#..even though he looks a little different now i hope you still like him!

[lostfracturess]

HOW TO FAKE DATE A DOCTOR — SATORU GOJO

pairing — doctor!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — for six months, you've watched dr. satoru gojo order the sweetest coffee on your menu every morning at exactly 7:15 AM. for six months, you've convinced yourself his intense stares must mean he's spotted something medically concerning about you—maybe a suspicious mole or concerning symptom. but when a desperate white lie about a fake boyfriend results in him volunteering to play the part at your family's christmas dinner, what begins as a simple pretend relationship might just turn into something real.

word count — 9 k

genre/tags — coffee shop AU, holiday romance, fake dating, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, fluff, idiots in love, reader is a med student and barista, gojo is a cardiologist, age difference (reader is 25/gojo early 30s)

warnings — 16+ ONLY. contains suggestive sexual content, non-graphic medical talk

author's note — hey lovelies, welcome to my first attempt at a holiday romance. this was meant to be a short drabble but somehow turned into this 9 k words of pure fluff and pining. it's my little christmas gift to you all hehe. whether you're celebrating with family, working holiday shifts, or just enjoying a quiet day, hope this makes you smile. thank you for reading, and merry christmas !! <3 (fanart in the header)

masterlist

You first noticed him six months ago.

It wasn't just because he was strikingly handsome, with hair the color of fresh snow and the bluest eyes you'd ever seen, though that certainly didn't hurt. It wasn't even because of his white coat and the stethoscope casually draped around his neck, marking him as one of the doctors from the nearby hospital.

No, what caught your attention was the way he looked at you.

Every morning, like clockwork, the bell above the door would chime at precisely 7:15 AM, and Dr. Satoru Gojo would walk into your café. He'd order the sweetest drink on your menu (always with extra whipped cream), and while you prepared it, his eyes would follow your every movement.

It wasn't creepy or uncomfortable. And it definitely wasn't flirting — at least, you didn't think it was. Perhaps he saw something, a suspicious mole you'd never noticed, and now he was trying to figure out how to tell the coffee girl she’s dying without ruining her morning rush. 

That had to be it.

You’d catch his gaze lingering when he thought you weren't looking. Sometimes, he'd tilt his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. It made you wonder what he was thinking. Was he judging your latte art? Probably. You were still working on that.

But when you turned around to give him his iced vanilla latte with extra whipped cream and three shots of caramel (it never varied, not once in six months), he'd break his smile to you, his gaze softening for a second, and then his fingers would brush against yours as you handed him the paper cup.

He always thanked you with “Much appreciated”. It made your heart skip a beat, if you'd be honest. Not that you read all too much into it of course. And so for six months, this had been your routine. 

5:30 AM: Arrive at the café.

6:00 AM: Open up, prep for the day. 

7:13 AM: Start making his drink because you knew he'd walk in exactly two minutes later. 

7:15 AM: Heart fluttering slightly as your hand brushed his as you gave him his order.

10:00 AM: Shift end. 

10:30 AM: Rush to classes.

Some mornings, he’d arrive in wrinkled scrubs, the faint scent of antiseptic clinging to him. Other days, it was a tailored dress shirt, sometimes with a matching tie. But the routine never changed.

Same order, same time, the same easy smile that would soften slightly when you remembered his order without him having to say it. Not that it was hard to begin with. 

“Someone’s got a secret admirer,” Maki would say, nudging you with her elbow as Dr. Gojo left. You’d roll your eyes, but a faint blush crept up your neck anyway.

Between customers, you'd try to squeeze in some studying. The early morning shift wasn't exactly ideal, but it paid better, and you needed every cent you could get for your pre-med textbooks. Those things cost more than your rent, it felt like.

Your anatomy textbook usually lay open behind the counter, hidden from customers' view but accessible during slower moments. Sometimes, when the morning rush died down, you'd catch Dr. Gojo's eyes flickering to the pages as you made his latte. His expression would shift slightly, but he never commented on it.

You wondered sometimes if he was judging your highlighting technique (chaotic at best) or your margin notes (mostly question marks). He must have gone through all this years ago, probably with much more grace than your current fumbling through medical terminology.

The café job barely covered your expenses — between tuition, rent, and those damn textbooks — but at least it was flexible with your class schedule. Your manager understood when you needed to switch shifts for exams, and the free coffee helped during all-nighters.

Your coworkers thought you were crazy for taking such early shifts. "No one should be awake at 5:30 AM," they'd say. But they didn't understand the quiet peace of morning prep, the satisfaction of perfect latte art, or the way certain blue eyes would crinkle at the corners when you got his order just right.

It was a small thing, a fleeting smile, a brush of fingertips, but it was enough to make the early mornings, the aching feet, the constant struggle, almost worth it.

Not that you stuck to this schedule just for him. Obviously not. The extra dollar per hour for opening shift was the real motivator. The fact that it coincided with Dr. Gojo's apparent coffee schedule was just... coincidence.

Sometimes, during chaotic study sessions between customers, you'd catch him watching you mouth medical terms to yourself as you steamed milk. His eyes would linger on your textbook, then flick back to your face with that same intense look that made you wonder if he was counting your remaining days or something—or still trying to figure out if that one mole on your cheek was turning malignant.

The morning you had your anatomy midterm, your textbook sat next to the register, full of sticky notes and frantic annotations. You saw him notice it, saw something shift in his expression as he took in the obvious signs of exam stress. That day, he left an extra large tip with a small note that just said "Good luck."

It was probably just pity. He'd been through med school. He knew the hell you were going through. That had to be it. Absolutely. No other explanation.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway, as you added the note into your wallet, shoving it down next to a crumpled grocery list and a faded movie ticket stub, as if burying it under a pile of mundane objects could somehow bury the flutter in your chest.

For six months, this had been your life. Balancing early mornings, late classes, endless studying, and the mystery of a doctor who looked at you like you were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

So when he finally broke pattern that random rainy monday morning, it wasn't with some dramatic revelation about your health you’d imagined. Instead, he tilted his head slightly while waiting for his usual and said, "You changed your hair."

You nearly dropped the caramel syrup. After six months of intense stares and loaded silences, after convincing yourself he was cataloging your symptoms or contemplating your mortality, he was commenting on your hair?

"Oh." Your hand instinctively went to the ends you'd trimmed over the weekend. "Yeah, just a few inches."

"It suits you." He said it so casually, like he hadn't just shattered half a year of mysterious doctor mystique with three words. Then, with that same matter-of-fact tone, "The pathophysiology textbook you were reading last week—Robbins, right? It’s really good. Especially the part about metaplasia. Interesting stuff."

And just like that, the spell was broken. No terminal diagnosis. No earth-shattering revelations. Just a doctor who apparently noticed haircuts and had opinions about medical textbooks. 

The sudden normalcy of it all was almost jarring. For months, you’d been half-convinced he was silently cataloging your every freckle, every mole, every perceived imperfection, convinced he was about to deliver some devastating news. Now? He was talking about metaplasia. It was almot—anticlimactic. 

And, if you were being honest, a little embarrassing. All those covert checks in the reflection of the espresso machine, all those frantic Google searches for “atypical nevi”—for this?

You almost wanted to laugh.

After that day, your morning routine shifted slightly. He still came in at exactly 7:15, still ordered the same diabetis-inducing latte, still watched you work with those intense blue eyes the color of glacial ice. But now he'd occasionally comment on your study materials, or mention an interesting case that related to whatever chapter you were currently highlighting.

"Cardiac arrhythmias today?" he'd ask, spotting your textbook. "Had a case of atrial fibrillation yesterday. The patient presented with…" He’d then launch into a quick explanation, sketching a diagram on a napkin that somehow made more sense than three hours of lecture on the same topic.

Your coworkers were almost disappointed by this development. "That's it?" Maki had said when you told her. "Six months of smoldering looks and he just... helps you study?"

But somehow, it felt right. The mysterious doctor with pretty eyes turned out to be just a man who noticed details and perhaps had a soft spot for struggling med students. 

He still made your heart do that stupid flutter thing when his fingers brushed yours during the handoff, but now you had a perfectly logical explanation for that of course—the vagus nerve or some other equally fascinating cardiovascular phenomenon he'd just explained.

That had to be it.

Some mornings, when the café was quiet and you were stumped by a concept, he'd even linger a few minutes after getting his order. He’d lean against the counter, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, gesturing with his cup while breaking down complex medical theories into digestible pieces, somehow making autoimmune disorders sound as simple as iced latte recipes. 

"You'll make a good doctor," he said one morning, completely out of nowhere and your cheeks flushed a deep crimson.

Your relationship—if you could even call it that—settled into something comfortably in-between. More than customer and barista, less than friends, but with a rhythm all its own. He'd quiz you while you made his usual, turning morning coffee runs into study sessions.

"Name three complications of chronic hypertension," he'd say while you pumped caramel into his cup.

"Increased risk of heart attack, stroke, and kidney disease," you'd reply, adding the extra shot of espresso he never actually ordered but always appreciated.

"Good. Now tell me about secondary causes."

One random Tuesday morning, however, the bell didn't chime at 7:15. You glanced at the clock, then back at the door. 

7:16. 

7:17. 

A knot of unease tightened in your stomach. It was ridiculous, really. Why did you even care? He was just a customer. A regular customer, yes, but still just a customer. It wasn't like you were waiting for him or anything. You were just—used to the routine. That was all. 

But despite your attempts at rationalization, a small, nagging worry began to gnaw at you. Had something happened? Was he okay? You found yourself staring at the door, your hand hovering over the espresso machine, your usual movements faltering slightly. You even messed up a latte, the foam swirling into a sad, lopsided blob instead of the usual pretty rosetta. 

At 7:20, just as you were about to convince yourself he’d just overslept and that you were being completely ridiculous, the bell finally rang. He rushed in, slightly out of breath, his cheeks flushed. "Sorry I'm late," he said, his voice a little rushed. "Crazy morning at the hospital."

He looked like he’d run all the way, which was odd. Why would he run? It’s not like his coffee was that important. Right? And yet, your stupid heart did a little flip at the sight of him, a traitorous swell of warmth blooming in your chest. He made it. He was here.

He stayed extra long that morning. After the rush died down, he listened to you recite your flashcards, correcting your pronunciation of medical terms with a patience that made you wonder if he moonlighted as a professor. It was a strange sort of intimacy, this shared moment of slow study amidst the busy morning rush and the soft hum of the refrigerators. 

And you never wanted that morning to end.

Your coworkers had stopped teasing you about him—mostly—and started asking if he could explain their own health questions instead. Then came the random stormy Wednesday that changed everything.

The morning had started normally enough—he arriving at 7:15 sharp, you already having his sugar latte ready. But the sky had opened up while he was waiting, rain drumming against the café windows. It wasn’t a gentle shower. It was a deluge, the kind that turned streets into rivers in minutes.

"Did you bring an umbrella?" he asked, watching you glance at the downpour.

"No," you sighed, already dreading the soggy walk to campus. "I checked the forecast last night—it said sunny all day." You internally cursed the weather app.

"When does your shift end?"

"Huh? Oh, uhm 10 AM. I have microbiology at 10:30."

His lips twitched into a faint smile and he left without another word. You tried not to feel disappointed—what had you expected? It's not like he could control the weather.

But at 10 AM sharp, as you were pulling your jacket tighter and preparing to make a run for it, you spotted him through the rain-streaked windows. He was standing outside the café in his white coat, holding a large dark blue umbrella. 

Your heart definitely did more than flutter this time.

"Ready?" he asked when you emerged, as if waiting in the pouring rain for some barista was perfectly normal doctor behavior.

"You didn't have to—"

"Can't have my favorite barista catching pneumonia," he said. "Besides, I'm heading that direction anyway." You knew for a fact the hospital was in the opposite direction.

The walk to campus was suddenly—intimate. It was strange being this close to him. You’d seen him every morning for months, but always across the counter, a safe distance separating you. Now, you were walking side-by-side, the scent of his cologne so close it made it hard to focus on anything but his proximity, to say the least.

"So, what are you studying in Microbiology?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"We're covering bacterial pathogenesis this week," you replied, and the conversation drifted naturally to a discussion of how different pathogens could affect various organ systems like it was normal small talk.

As other pedestrians passed, their own umbrellas bobbing and weaving, he’d subtly pull you closer. Each time he did, your breath would catch in your throat, and a fresh wave of warmth would wash over you. You were grateful for his height, because you were certain your cheeks were flushed a deep shade of red.

It was absurd, how flustered you were by such a simple act, but the feeling of his arm occasionally brushing against yours, the shared intimacy of the small space beneath the umbrella, was enough to send your heart racing.

Desperate to focus on something else, you blurted out, "What kind of doctor are you, anyway? I never actually asked."

"Cardiology," he replied simply.

“Cardiology,” you repeated, the word lingering on your tongue. A doctor of the heart. When you reached the medical sciences building, he paused, lowering the umbrella slightly. The rain had begun to ease, but the air still smelled wet and clean.

"Thanks," you said, meeting his gaze. "For the umbrella escort."

"Anytime." That soft smile again, the one that made your heart do a stupid little skip again.

As you watched him walk away, umbrella tilted against the rain, you realized something had shifted. Maybe you weren't quite friends, maybe you weren't quite anything definable, but whatever this was—it felt like the beginning of something. Something more than just sharing an umbrella on rainy days.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Winter arrived on a random thursday morning, transforming rain into snow and turning your early morning walks to work into arctic expeditions.

It was during one of these frigid mornings, while you were preparing Dr. Gojo's usual order and the steam from the espresso machines fogging up the frost-covered windows, that your phone rang. Your mother's contact photo flashed on the screen.

You answered with your phone pressed between ear and shoulder, still working the machines. "Hi, Mom."

"Sweetheart! I was just planning Christmas dinner. You're bringing someone this year, right? That nice boy from your anatomy class you mentioned?"

You winced, catching Dr. Gojo's raised eyebrow from where he stood at the counter. "Mom—"

"Because Aunt Marie's daughter just got engaged, and you know how she gets—"

"My boyfriend's actually busy with hospital rotations," you blurted out, immediately wanting to punch yourself. "He's, uh, very dedicated to his work."

"Boyfriend? Why didn't you tell me? What's his name? What does he—"

"Sorry, Mom, huge line forming, gotta go!" You hung up, letting your forehead thump against the coffee machine with a groan.

"That sounded stressful," Dr. Gojo commented, amusement clear in his voice.

You looked up to find him watching you with that slight smile that always made you shiver. "Just my mom being... my mom." You resumed making his latte. "She's convinced that at twenty-five, I'm practically a spinster."

"Ah." He tilted his head. "And this fictional boyfriend with hospital rotations?"

Your cheeks heated. "Seemed easier than explaining why I'm still single. Between work, classes, and studying, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date." You handed him his usual. "Plus, now she'll stop trying to set me up with every eligible male she meets through her book club."

"A creative solution," he said, taking a sip. "Though hospital rotations over Christmas? Sounds like a terrible boyfriend." A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Yeah, well, imaginary men are often disappointing." You started wiping down the counter, needing something to do with your hands. "At least this way I'll have a few weeks of peace before I have to tell her we broke up."

"Sounds like you've done this before," he observed, watching you attack an imaginary coffee stain with perhaps too much force.

"Is it that obvious?" You sighed, abandoning your fake cleaning. "Last year he was studying abroad. The year before that, he was sick. I'm running out of excuses, honestly. Pretty sure my mom's stopped believing me, but she plays along because it's less awkward than admitting we both know I'm lying."

He made a thoughtful sound, then pulled out his prescription pad (why did doctors always carry those around anyway?). You watched, confused, as he scribbled something down and slid it across the counter.

"Here," he said. "My number. Call me during Christmas dinner."

You stared at him. "What?"

"Well, your imaginary boyfriend should at least make an effort, don't you think?" His eyes held that familiar amusement. "I'll tell your mom all about my very important hospital rounds, maybe throw in some medical words. Make it convincing."

You stared at him, mouth slightly agape. Was he… offering to pretend to be your boyfriend? You couldn't quite process what was happening. 

"You know," he said, after you'd probably been quiet for too long, "some of us actually do work hospital rotations over Christmas."

"I know, I just—" You stopped, realizing how her words might have sounded. "Oh god, I didn't mean to imply… I know you probably have to work during the holidays too, I wasn't trying to—"

"Someone has to make sure all those Christmas dinner caused heart attacks are properly treated," he interrupted, that familiar, almost-smirk back on his face, easing the tension in your shoulders. "Though I do get Christmas morning off this year."

You couldn't tell if he was trying to make you feel better about your lie, your accidental insult, or just sharing information. With Dr. Gojo, it was often hard to tell. After a moment of stunned silence, you managed, "Are you… sure?"

"Perfectly.”

"Thank you," you said, finally finding your voice as you picked up the slip of paper. "Really, thank you."

"Anytime," he said, that familiar, soft smile gracing his lips. "Consider it a Christmas gift. From your very dedicated, albeit fictional, boyfriend."

As you watched him leave, coffee in hand and snowflakes catching in his white hair. Even if he was probably going to tease you endlessly about your fictional, workaholic boyfriend for weeks to come, a small, stupid part of you was already looking forward to it.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The Christmas dinner was a random Friday night.

The table, laden with enough food to feed a small army, was surrounded by the usual suspects and the dinner turned out to be exactly as excruciating as you'd expected. You'd barely made it through the appetizers before the interrogation began.

"So, this boyfriend of yours," Aunt Marie started. "What did you say he does again?"

"He's a doctor," you said into your mashed potatoes.

"A doctor!" your mother brightened. "You never mentioned that part."

Your cousin Sarah leaned forward. "What kind of doctor? Where did he study? How did you meet?"

You were considering faking a sudden illness when your phone buzzed. Dr. Gojo's name lit up your screen with a video call request. You hadn't even suggested a video call—he was truly committing to this.

"Oh, that's him now!" Your mother said, clapping her hands together. "Put him on speaker!"

Before you could protest, you were surrounded by a sea of curious relatives as you answered the call. The screen filled with Dr. Gojo's face, and—oh god—he was actually in scrubs, in what looked like a real operating room.

"Hey, my love," he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world, and the casual nickname hit you like a train, making you forget your own name. You felt your cheeks flush and it didn’t help that he somehow managed to look unfairly handsome even under the surgical lights. "Sorry I couldn't make it. We had an emergency valve replacement come in."

"Are you... actually in surgery right now?" you asked.

"Just finished!" He tilted the phone slightly to show a glimpse of a team of medical staff behind him, all of whom waved. One even gave a thumbs up. "Thought I'd catch you before dessert. Is that your family I see?"

Your entire extended family crammed themselves into frame, cooing and waving at your "doctor boyfriend" who was dedicated enough to call from work.

"Oh my god, he's gorgeous," your cousin said.

"Dr. Gojo," your mother pushed forward, "we're so disappointed you couldn't join us. Though of course, saving lives comes first!"

"Please, call me Satoru," he said, flashing that unfairly attractive smile of his. "And I'm more disappointed than anyone. I was really looking forward to trying your famous apple pie that your daughter keeps telling me about."

Your mother clutched her chest, delighted. You had never once mentioned her apple pie to him. 

"Are those Christmas decorations I see in the OR?" your aunt squinted at the screen.

And indeed, there were actual Christmas lights strung up in the background. Either this hospital was very festive, or he'd gone to ridiculous lengths for this act.

"We try to keep the holiday spirit alive, even here," he said, then suddenly looked off-screen. "Oh, looks like we have another emergency coming in." Dramatic beeping noises increased in the background. "I'm so sorry, but duty calls. It was lovely meeting you all!"

"Such a dedicated young man," your mother sighed after you ended the call.

"So handsome too," Aunt Marie added. "Those eyes!"

You slumped in your chair, caught between mortification and amusement. He really didn't have to go that far—the Christmas lights in the OR? The perfectly timed “emergency”? The entire surgical team playing along? It was almost impressive.

Your phone buzzed with a text: 'How'd I do? The lights were my colleague's idea. They says Merry Christmas, by the way. Your family seems nice.'

Another buzz, a separate message: 'Also, I expect a slice of that famous apple pie at the café tomorrow. After that performance, I think I've earned it.'

You typed back: 'You are absolutely insufferable. That was completely over the top.'

His response came almost instantly: 'Is that any way to talk to your dedicated doctor boyfriend who just saved a life AND charmed your entire family? I'm hurt.'

Despite yourself, you smiled.

Your phone buzzed one more time: 'By the way, your cousin already found my hospital's public contact info and sent a friend request. Should I accept? I feel like a committed boyfriend would.'

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was absolutely loving this. 

Way too much.

The next morning, you weren't surprised when he showed up at his usual 7:15, despite it being his day off. What did surprise you was that he was still wearing scrubs. They were rumpled, like he'd been wearing them for a while.

"Please tell me you didn't actually work all night just to make that video call more convincing," you said as he approached the counter.

"You know, I am a doctor in real life, right? This isn't just a cover for your mom." He smirked. "But anyway, just finished an actual emergency shift." He glanced at the paper bag you had waiting next to his usual sugary coffee. "Is that… what I think it is?"

"Your well-earned reward for yesterday's Oscar-worthy performance." You handed him both coffee and pie. "Though I still can't believe you got your entire surgical team to play along."

"Bold of you to assume I had to ask." He took a bite of the pie and his eyes widened slightly. "Okay, your mom's reputation is deserved. This is actually amazing."

"Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts, because—" You hesitated, took a deep breath, and decided to just rip the bandage off. "She invited you to dinner. Tomorrow."

He paused mid-bite. "Oh?"

"I told her you're probably busy—"

"What time?"

You stared at him. "What?"

"What time is dinner?" He took another bite of pie, looking perfectly casual about the whole thing. "I actually have Sunday evening off, and this pie has convinced me your mom's cooking is worth experiencing in person."

"You can't be serious."

"Why not?" He shrugged. "I've already met them virtually. Might as well complete the experience. Unless you're worried I'll embarrass you?"

"I'm worried you'll be too convincing again," you said. "My mom's already planning our wedding, by the way. She told me this morning that your 'dedication to work' proves you'd be a good husband."

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint a future mother-in-law."

"This isn't funny!"

"It's a little funny." He leaned against the counter, grinning. "Come on, one dinner. I promise to be slightly less charming this time."

"Somehow I doubt that's possible," you said before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened. "Was that a compliment?"

"That was a complaint about your inability to do anything halfway." You busied yourself with wiping down the already clean counter. "But fine. Sunday at seven. Try not to bring Christmas lights this time."

"No promises." He pushed off from the counter, taking his coffee and pie. "Oh, and by the way?"

"Hmm?"

"I accepted your cousin's friend request. She's already invited me to your family's New Year's party."

He was halfway to the door when he paused, turning back with an expression that was softer than his usual teasing smile. "You look pretty today, by the way. The new sweater suits you." 

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. You hadn't even realized he'd noticed you'd changed from your usual work shirt into a cozy sweater for your afternoon classes.

He was out the door before you could stammer out a response, leaving you to wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into. And why one simple, genuine compliment made your heart race more than all his dramatic boyfriend performances combined.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

Sunday evening found you pacing a worn path in the carpet by your parents' front door, checking your phone every two minutes. 7:15 came and went—apparently his almost unnervingly precise timing only applied to coffee runs. 

You tried to convince yourself it was fine, that doctors had unpredictable schedules, but a nervous flutter had taken up residence in your stomach.

At 7:20, your mom’s worried, "Maybe he got called into surgery?" was interrupted by the doorbell. You took a deep breath, smoothing down your dress, and opened the door.

Standing there was Dr. Gojo—Satoru, you supposed you should call him now—looking slightly disheveled in a way that somehow only emphasized his unfairly attractive features. His white dress shirt, though slightly untucked at the waist, bore the clear signs of a hurried ironing, and he was carrying what looked like an expensive bottle of wine—definitely not the kind you’d find at the corner store.

"I'm so sorry," he said, running a hand through his already slightly tousled white hair. "Emergency consultation ran late, and then traffic was—"

"It's fine," you interrupted, a wave of relief washing over you. He’d actually come. "Really. You didn't have to—"

But the rest of your sentence disappeared into a surprised squeak as he stepped forward, closing the small gap between you. He leaned in and gently pressed a kiss to your cheek, his free hand settling naturally on your waist, just above your hip, as if he’d done it a hundred times before.

"Hi," he whispered against your ear, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "Missed you today at the café."

You stood frozen, brain short-circuiting from the casual intimacy of it all. This wasn't part of the plan. You hadn't discussed... this. The way his hand felt warm through your dress, how his cologne made you slightly dizzy, how natural it felt to have him this close. It was as if your body already knew this was right, even if your mind was still scrambling to catch up.

"I... you..." Words. You needed words. "You're late."

He pulled back just enough to give you that familiar amused look. "And you're blushing."

Before you could even process that observation—or the fact that your heart was currently attempting to beat its way out of your chest—your mother appeared behind you. "Satoru! We're so glad you could make it!"

He smoothly stepped past you to greet your parents, all charm and apologies for his lateness, seamlessly weaving a plausible story about a last-minute emergency consult and unexpected traffic. He shook your father’s hand with just the right amount of respectful firmness and charmed your mother with a compliment about her festive decorations. All while he left you standing in the doorway, slightly dazed, trying to remember how to perform basic human functions like breathing and blinking.

The slight smirk he threw over his shoulder as he joined the others in the living room told you he knew exactly what he'd done.

Insufferable man.

The dinner was simultaneously the longest and shortest evening of your life. Satoru slipped into the role of doting boyfriend with an unsettling ease, weaving medical anecdotes (carefully tailored for a non-medical audience) and charming compliments into the conversation like he'd been rehearsing for weeks. He even managed to compliment Aunt Marie’s notoriously sweet cheesecake without visibly wincing.

He sat close enough that your legs brushed under the table, his hand finding its way to your knee during your mother's third attempt to bring up wedding venues (she was already browsing bridal magazines online, you’d noticed). The casual touch, which should have made you incredibly nervous, instead felt strangely good, like a shared secret between the two of you in the midst of the family chaos.

"And how did you two actually meet?" your aunt asked over dessert.

"She makes the best coffee in the city," Satoru answered smoothly, his thumb drawing absent circles on your thigh beneath the tablecloth. "Though it took me months to work up the courage to say more than my order."

You nearly choked on your wine. He was mixing truth and fiction so seamlessly you almost believed it yourself. 

Every story he told had just enough reality to make you question your own memory. He mentioned how you study between customers, but added details about imaginary conversations. He even talked about your first "date" with such specificity that you found yourself half-believing it had happened.

His hand never left your leg for long, occasionally squeezing gently when your relatives’ questions became too invasive. Somehow, he’d effortlessly positioned himself as both the charming guest and the attentive boyfriend, deflecting awkward questions with a disarming smile. And you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life as you were for him breaking the pattern on that random, rainy Monday morning.

"He even helped me with pathophysiology," you found yourself saying, leaning into him slightly, enjoying it. Two could play at this game.

"She didn't need much help," he replied, his voice laced with a warmth that sounded genuinely proud. It made your heart flutter. "Just someone to hold her flashcards while she made my ridiculously sweet coffee."

Your father, who hadn't said much all evening, finally smiled. "She works too hard sometimes."

"She does," Satoru agreed, his hand sliding just a fraction higher on your thigh under the table. "Though that's one of the things I admire most about her." A wave of heat rushed to your face, and you quickly looked away, focusing on a particularly uninteresting spot on the tablecloth. This is getting out of hand.

As the conversation shifted to some other topic—something about your uncle's questionable golf swing—you leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, "You're awfully charming."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping lower so that only you could hear. "Funny, you don't seem to hate it." You felt your cheeks burn even hotter now.

By the time dinner ended, your mother was completely smitten, your aunts were bickering over who would host the next family gathering (with Satoru as the guest of honor, of course), and your cousin had somehow convinced him to follow her Instagram—and had already tagged him in three separate stories.

It was all too smooth, too perfect, too real. 

The way he helped you clear the table, his hand brushing the small of your back in a casual, yet intimate touch as he passed. How he effortlessly recalled every detail you’d ever mentioned about your family, from your grandmother’s obsession with crossword puzzles to your father’s love of bad puns. The soft, lingering looks he gave you when he thought no one was watching, filled with an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

"You're very good at this," you said as you stood side by side at the sink, washing dishes after dinner.

"At what?"

"Playing pretend."

His hands paused for just a moment. "Who says I'm pretending?"

The wine glass you were drying slipped from your suddenly nerveless fingers. You managed to catch it before it shattered on the tile floor, but not before making enough noise to draw his attention.

"Hey." His hand was immediately at your waist, steadying you. "You okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine, just—" You set the glass down carefully, very aware of how close he was standing.  When you turned to face him, you found yourself effectively trapped between his broad frame and the hard edge of the kitchen counter. "Slippery hands. From the... soap."

"Hmm." His eyes searched your face, and for a fleeting moment, you thought—you could have sworn—his gaze flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. "You know, for someone who spends all day handling hot liquids, you've seemed very clumsy tonight."

"Maybe I'm just… distracted.”

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your face as he leaned infinitesimally closer, his eyes fixed on yours. One hand came up to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, his fingertips grazing your skin, the contact sending a shiver down your spine. "By what?" 

"You're doing it again," you whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Being too convincing."

A slow, almost hesitant smile spread across his face. It was a smile that reached his eyes, a smile that felt utterly real, utterly intimate, making your heart stutter in your chest. "Perhaps," he whispered, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin, "maybe I'm not trying to convince anyone anymore."

You could feel his breath ghosting over your lips, the slight tremor in his hand where it rested on your waist, the way the kitchen suddenly felt too warm, too small, too—

"Who wants coffee?" your mother's voice carried from the dining room, making you both jump apart. Satoru cleared his throat, taking a hasty step back, his hand dropping from your waist. 

The rest of dinner passed in a surreal haze, neither of you quite able to forget the charged moment in the kitchen. What was that? You kept replaying the scene in your mind. His hand on your waist, his breath on your lips, the sudden shift in his eyes. It had felt… different. More real than any of the playacting. 

It wasn't until your aunt, after a drawn out round of goodbyes and air kisses, finally got up to leave that anyone noticed the shift in the weather. "Oh my goodness," your mother gasped, pulling back the curtains. "When did it start snowing?"

Outside, the world had transformed into a winter wonderland that would've been charming under different circumstances. At least a foot of snow covered everything, still falling heavily in thick, white sheets.

"The weather alert says it's going to continue all night," your father reported, checking his phone. "They're advising against any travel. Roads are already getting bad."

Your mother immediately switched into hostess mode. "You absolutely can't drive in this, Satoru. These roads won't be plowed until morning, at the earliest."

"I'm sure I can—" he started.

"Absolutely not," she interrupted. "You'll stay here tonight. Both of you."

You nearly choked on air. "Mom—"

"Don't be silly, dear," she said, already bustling towards the hallway. "You can take your old room, of course. It's all made up. Satoru," she called over her shoulder, "I'll go find some spare cloths for you." Then, turning back to you, she added, "And honey, you still have some things in your old room, so it'll be just like old times!"

Old times? What old times? Your childhood bedroom with those old embarrassing school photos and faded posters of your first boyband crush that you’d somehow never gotten around to taking down? This was not part of the plan. This was definitely not part of the plan.

He wasn't supposed to see that side of you.

As you counted down the seconds until you completely died from embarrassment your parents bustled off to prepare the rooms, leaving you and Satoru alone again. He leaned against the window, watching the snow fall, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Convenient weather we're having," you said suspiciously.

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you implying I somehow arranged a snowstorm?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put it past you."

His laugh was soft and warm. "As flattered as I am by your faith in my abilities, even I can't control the weather." He glanced at you. "Though I have to admit, this is working out better than my original plan of pretending my car wouldn't start."

"You're impossible," you groaned.

"So I've been told." He pushed off from the window, moving closer. He stopped just inches away, until you could feel the heat from his body. His gaze dropped—or you thought it did, your pulse quickening at the mere possibility—to your lips for the briefest of moments before returning to meet your eyes. You blinked, trying to clear your head. No, it couldn't be. "Though I notice you're not exactly complaining about the situation."

Before you could formulate a witty retort (or even a coherent thought, for that matter), your mother’s voice rang out from upstairs, effectively putting an end to whatever was about to happen. "I found some spare clothes, Satoru! And honey," she called down, "your old band t-shirts are still in your dresser!"

You covered your face with your hands. "Please forget everything she's about to show you."

"Now how could I possibly pass up the chance to see teenage you's fashion choices?" 

You peaked through your fingers to find him smirking, looking far too delighted by this turn of events. This was going to be a very long night.

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

"I really can sleep on the floor," Satoru offered for the third time, shifting his weight awkwardly in the doorway of your childhood bedroom. He looked around, taking in your teenage decorating choices, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"Don't be ridiculous." You tried to sound casual as you smoothed down the NASA bedsheets you'd had since high school on your small bed, that suddenly looked barely big enough for one, let alone two adults. "We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."

He was quiet for a moment, and when you glanced up, you found him studying your teenage self's wall decorations with poorly hidden amusement. It was a chaotic mixture of faded movie posters (mostly featuring heartthrobs from your early teens), band posters (an ambarrasing One Direction poster taking center stage), and a poorly crafted periodic table, complete with hand-drawn elements and color-coded categories.

"Nice periodic table," he finally said.

"Shut up," you muttered, throwing a pillow at him. He caught it easily, because of course he did. "Some of us were nerds before med school."

You turned to your old closet, pulling out one of those oversized band t-shirts you'd lived in during high school. You gripped the hem of your sweater, suddenly very aware of his presence in the small room.

You could feel his eyes on you, a weight on your back, and you could feel the heat creeping up your neck. You paused, your fingers frozen on the soft knit. "Um… could you…?" you trailed off, not wanting to meet his gaze.

He didn't say anything, didn't move. You could practically feel his gaze burning into your back. Finally, you turned, holding your band t-shirt protectively in front of you. "Seriously. Turn around."

He blinked. "You know, I am a doctor. I've seen it all."

"Still," you insisted, your cheeks flushing. "Turn. Around."

He sighed, but finally turned his back, though the lingering amusement in his eyes told you he was still enjoying the situation immensely.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” you muttered, pulling the t-shirt over your head. You smoothed it down, then took a deep breath. 

"I would never," he said.

"You can turn around now."

He turned, his face carefully composed, though a telltale twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. His eyes traveled from the hem of the shirt to your face, making your heart stutter. "You look… cute."

"You're a terrible liar.”

You both settled into bed with careful movements, lying rigid as boards, backs facing each other in a vain attempt at maintaining some sort of personal space. The mattress, however, had other plans. It dipped under his weight, creating a subtle slope that kept trying to draw you toward the center—toward him. 

Your childhood bed, which had seemed perfectly adequate when you were sixteen, now felt absurdly small. You pressed against the edge, but it was no use, there couldn't have been more than a few inches between your back and his. You could feel the heat of his body, warming the small space between you, his every breath, the subtle shift of the sheets when he moved.

The silence stretched, filled only with the sound of falling snow outside your window and your own heartbeat. It felt so loud, you were certain he could hear it.

"Thank you," you finally whispered into the darkness. "For tonight. For all of it. You didn't have to do any of this."

The bed shifted as he turned over. After a moment's hesitation, you did too, finding yourself face to face with him in the dim light of the streetlamp filtering through your old curtains. His hair was disheveled from the pillow, his expression softer than you'd ever seen it.

"It was fun," he said simply, his breath warm against your cheek.

A small laugh escaped your lips. "Fun? My mom interrogated you about your entire medical history, my dad made you look at his coin collection for an hour, and my cousin tried to show you every embarrassing photo of me from middle school."

"The braces years were particularly charming."

You kicked his shin lightly under the covers. "Shut up."

He grinned, the warmth in his eyes visible even in the dim light. "I mean it, though. Your family is… lively."

"That's a polite way of saying chaotic."

"They care about you. It's nice."

You studied his face, searching for the truth in his words. "Why did you really come tonight? You could have easily found an excuse to avoid this disaster of a family dinner."

"Would you believe me if I said I wanted to?"

"No," you said. "Nobody wants to spend their evening being questioned by my parents and subjected to my aunt's weird baking."

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more serious. "Maybe I wanted to understand you better. See where you came from. Meet the people who made you... you."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Why would you care about any of that?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

You stared at him, suddenly very aware of how close you were, how little space there was between you in this too-small bed. "No," you whispered. "It's not obvious at all."

"Then I must be doing a terrible job of showing you."

Your heart was racing now, your voice barely audible. "Showing me what?"

Before you could respond, he shifted, until he was hovering above you. Your breath caught at the change, at how his white hair fell forward framing his face, at how his eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies in them.

And then he kissed you.

The kiss was nothing like the casual touch of lips from before. It was soft, sweet, and achingly tender at first. He moved against you slowly, his lips parting slightly, inviting you to deepen the kiss. You met his silent invitation, your own lips parting in response. One hand cupped your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, while the other braced against the mattress, supporting his weight. 

Then, with a soft sigh, he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency that made your heart ache with a longing you hadn’t known you carried. He pulled you closer, just a fraction, the kiss becoming more urgent, more demanding, yet still laced with a surprising tenderness. 

You could feel the rapid thump of his heart against your own chest but then, just as suddenly as it began, he pulled back, breaking the kiss. He didn't move far, though, remaining close enough that you could still feel his breath on your face, see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Still think I'm just playing pretend?"

This time, you didn't hesitate. You were the one who moved forward, your hand sliding into his hair, the soft strands tangling around your fingers, pulling him back down to you. His surprised intake of breath was quickly lost as your lips met again.

This kiss was different—deeper, more urgent, six months of watching and waiting poured into a single moment. He made a low sound in his throat as your fingers tightened in his hair, urging him closer. 

His own hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing gently into the sensitive skin there. The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your band t-shirt.

"I've wanted to do that since the first time you rolled your eyes at my coffee order," he said against your lips, his voice rough in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

"That long?" You tried to sound teasing, but it came out breathless instead.

He smiled against your lips. "Longer, probably." He pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to your jawline. "Though watching you try to diagnose yourself with every terrible disease I mentioned was pretty entertaining, too."

You groaned, burying your face in the crook of his neck. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Never," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple. Then, quieter, more intimate, "But I've got plenty of time to make it up to you."

His lips trailed down your neck, each gentle press sending shivers through your body. When he reached the collar of your t-shirt, he paused, his fingers toying with the hem. "Can I?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and he slowly, teasingly, pushed the fabric up, revealing your stomach inch by inch. The first brush of his lips against your bare skin made you gasp, your fingers tightening reflexively in his silky hair.

He took his time, pressing kisses to your belly, your ribs, the valley between your breasts. His tongue darted out, tasting your skin, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Your back arched, subtly at first, but with increasing urgency as his lips and hands explored your skin.

His fingers, still toying with the hem of your shirt, finally slipped beneath the fabric. He traced the curve of your waist, the swell of your breasts, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When his thumbs brushed over your nipples, you couldn't suppress the moan that escaped your lips. "More," you whispered, the word barely audible, but he heard it, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You sure?"

"Yes," you breathed. "Please."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your sleeping shorts. Your heart raced, your skin flushed, every nerve ending racing with the promise of what was to come.

He dragged the fabric down your legs, the cool air hitting your heated skin making you shiver. He settled between your thighs, his broad shoulders forcing your legs wider, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, his kisses trailing down your inner thigh. And then his mouth was on you, and the world fell away. 

⋆꙳•❅•̩❅*̩‧͙ *̩❆₊˚｡❆

The next morning felt like stepping into a dream—a world where Dr. Satoru Gojo, the man you’d spent six months convinced was silently diagnosing you with rare diseases, was actually just a man utterly smitten with you.

It was as if a blurry lens had finally snapped into focus, revealing a picture so obvious you almost laughed. All those intense stares, the carefully timed coffee shop visits, the way he’d linger at your counter, even helping you study—it had never been about mysterious illnesses or professional concern. 

He’d simply been trying to be near you, and you’d been too busy inventing medical mysteries to notice.

And the most embarrassing part? How obvious it had been to everyone else. Your coworkers’ knowing looks finally made sense, as did your mother’s immediate acceptance of him as your “boyfriend.” Even his colleagues had been in on it, helping stage that ridiculous Christmas video call just to make you smile. 

When you later confessed your obliviousness to your coworkers, their reactions ranged from “Finally!” to a bewildered “Wait, you mean he wasn’t actually your boyfriend this whole time?”

Over breakfast, as he effortlessly charmed your mother into accepting a third helping of pancakes he casually dropped the bomb to your mom, “I actually rearranged my entire consultation schedule to match her shifts. I don't even like coffee."

Your mind went blank for a moment. He… what? Then, the implications crashed down on you. He’d rearranged his entire work schedule just to see you. And he hated coffee. He’d only ever ordered those sugary lattes because… because of you.

A blush crept up your neck, and you couldn't believe how adorably dense you’d been.

He met your gaze then, his blue eyes softening in that way that always made your heart flutter. Only now you understood what that look truly meant. He hadn’t been studying you. He’d been cherishing you with his gaze. He’d wanted to see you, to be near you, to simply be with you. And the realization made you ridiculously, undeniably happy.

Satoru walked over to you from where he stood next to your mom and leaned down, his breath warm against your temple, and pressed a soft kiss there. You closed your eyes, savoring the simple touch. God, you wanted more. You wanted him closer, his arms around you, his lips on yours again, just like last night.

You'll probably never get enough of that.

He pulled back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. His gaze held yours, a soft smile playing on his lips. Then he whispered three words that made your world stand still, "I love you."

Three little words.

But those three words little changed everything.

It felt as though time itself had stopped. He loves me, the thought echoed in your mind, a fragile, beautiful sound you couldn't quite believe was real. You’d imagined this moment countless times in secret, tucked away in the quiet corners of your heart, but you'd never truly believed it could happen.

And in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his hand, the sweet scent of pancakes, and the soft morning light filtering through the kitchen window, you knew you’d never been happier in your entire life. 

And most importantly, you didn't have to pretend anymore. He wasn't just someone you were pretending to date for your family's sake. He was actually your boyfriend. Really, truly your boyfriend. And what had once felt like a performance suddenly felt very much like coming home.

But the best part? At exactly 7:15 the next morning, he still walked in, ordered his usual diabetes in a cup, and watched you work with those intense blue eyes. Only now, when you handed him his drink, he'd pull you close for a kiss that tasted of caramel and cinnamon.

"You know," he said one morning, watching you make his order, "for someone smart enough to get into med school, you were remarkably dense about this whole thing."

"Says the man who spent six months staring instead of just asking me out."

"I was building suspense."

"You were being creepy."

"Maybe," he said, then smilled. "But it worked, didn't it?"

And really, you couldn't argue with that. Though you did make his next latte extra sweet, just to watch him pretend to enjoy it.

After all, some things were worth suffering through overly sugary coffee for.

masterlist

author's note — if you're familiar with a certain story on my blog, then no you didn't see this story, and this is definitely not a healthier version of another couple, and i absolutely do not have a thing for medical AUs, okay thank you.

anway, this was supposed to get spicier, but time got away from me because i really wanted to share it with you all for christmas so this is only suggestive, but i hope you enjoyed it either way. & thank you so much for reading this far !! your support means everything to me.

wishing you all a very merry christmas !! hope your holidays are filled with sweet coffee, warm embraces, and maybe even a handsome doctor of your own <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here!

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @snowsilver2000 @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna

@cocomanga @nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @shervinss @chiyokoemilia

@janbannan @bloopsstuff

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Stuck in a Cave (m) | pjm

Trapped in a snowbound cave over the Christmas holidays with your long-time rival, Park Jimin, you're forced to face the simmering feelings you've both been burying beneath layers of denial. As the cold closes in, unspoken desires begin to thaw, setting your hearts ablaze in a season meant for warmth and wonder.

→ Pairing: jimin x reader (female) → AUs: christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: enemies to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / comedy / forced proximity → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 9k → Warnings + triggers: unprotected sex in the form of oral (female and male receiving), fingering, breast play, nipple play, dry humping, kissing, creampie, squirting, biting, slapping, multiple orgasms, a little bit exhibitionism, avalanche and being buried in the snow. → Author’s note: I KNOW, I KNOW—I totally said the last one was the last one, but surprise! Here we are again! 😂 Look, I’m not even gonna jinx it by saying this is the actual last one, because let’s be real, who knows? Maybe this hilariously chaotic couple will spark something in me again when I least expect it. But, uh… don’t place any bets on it, okay? I actually wrote this back in November (along with all my December posts—productive queen energy, am I right?). As for when I’ll write again? TBD! But in the meantime, I really, really hope you enjoy this little gem 🫶✨ → Read the spoiler? [group chat texts]  → Read on AO3? [link] 

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a mini series ‘The Winter Collection’, but it can be read as a stand alone (as can all the installments in the series).

“Tell me again why we’re trudging up these stupid mountains?” you groan, each step heavy with snow and the weight of too many unspoken things. Your boots feel like lead, sinking deeper into the cold ground, and the cabin—warm, distant, almost mythical now—is but a tiny speck on the white horizon.

“Because we can’t just hibernate in that cabin all day,” Jungkook sing-songs, absurdly gleeful, his cheeks flushed pink by the crisp air, his laugh echoing against the snow-covered pines. You try not to roll your eyes, picturing instead the warm glow of the fireplace, the flickering shadows, and your room… the one you share with Jimin. You chase away that thought, try to ignore how close he walks ahead of you, his snowsuit doing nothing to hide that damned perky ass. The world is a cruel place, you sigh. 

If only your heart hadn’t shifted. He’s still your mortal enemy—or so you keep telling yourself. But ever since that night in the cabin, when he stumbled on you tangled in sheets, with your sparkly dildo deep inside your cunt… something different stirred. The hatred’s still there, raw and defiant, but now it’s wrapped in something softer, warmer, and maddeningly confusing.

“Keep up, Y/N, or are those legs of yours already giving out?” Jimin turns, his eyes glinting, tongue poking out in that infuriating way, and a flush creeps up your cheeks. It’s his fucking fault your legs feel like jelly. Him and his insufferable grin, his teasing remarks, and… his stupid, perfect, cock. No, you’re not in love, you tell yourself.

You scoff, forcing a smirk. “Oh, is that a volunteer to carry me the rest of the way?” you toss back. “But then again, I doubt you’re strong enough,” you add, savoring the flare of irritation in his eyes. Your friends, accustomed to this fiery dance between you and Jimin, fall into a knowing silence. They know the drill—the barbs, the heat, the grudging laughter—all too well. They’ve long stopped trying to intervene, though sometimes, in rare moments, you suspect they see right through you both.

Jimin’s gaze sharpens, his smirk dropping. “Oh, we both know I could carry you,” he says, his voice low, “but since you’re such a brat about it, I won’t.”

You cross your arms, fuming like a child denied their favorite toy. “Fine!” you spit, your voice sharper than the biting wind. “I don’t want you touching me anyway!”

Jimin leans in with a wicked grin. “Not what you said last night…” he murmurs, the sing-song lilt in his voice hitting you right in the chest. You hate that he knows how to rile you up, that he says it so casually, right in front of everyone. The knowledge that they all know—their sly looks, the teasing remarks, even Seokjin’s smirk as he tossed you a pre-packed box of condoms when you arrived at the stupid cabin. Namjoon’s knowing grin, Taehyung’s shoulder-pat for Jimin, Yoongi’s dry threat to make your lives hell if you wake him up again…

Yes, they’re a chaotic bunch, your friends. And Jimin? He’s chaos itself.

Snowflakes begin to fall, delicate and silent, each one like a whispered secret from the heavens. They drift lazily at first, dancing on the wind before settling on your outstretched palm. You pull off your glove and catch one, marveling at its intricate beauty before it melts against your warm skin, leaving only a glistening trace.

“Let’s keep moving—we’re getting to the top,” Jungkook calls out, his eyes bright with the thrill of the climb. Yoongi only grunts, casting a longing glance back toward where the cabin lies hidden, nestled far below. You can almost read his mind; he’d probably be back there with you now if it weren’t for Jungkook’s threat to cut the cabin heat unless every last one of you joined him on this “bonding adventure.” What a tyrant, you think with a wry smile.

“The top?” you nearly yell, unable to believe his determination. Your legs ache, every muscle weighed down by the stiff bulk of your snowsuit. Sure, it keeps the cold at bay, but you feel like you’re dragging half the mountain with you. And to think—once you reach the summit, you’ll have to make the long descent all over again. You didn’t pack for this kind of endurance test; a few snacks, a water bottle, and a first aid kit are all that line the bottom of your backpack.

“We’ve been going since dawn! We started before the sun was even up,” you pant, each breath puffing out in frosty clouds.

Jungkook just grins, a giddy light in his eyes. “But wasn’t the sunrise worth it?” he asks, and you reluctantly admit that he’s right. The first rays of morning had painted the snow in hues of rose and gold, spilling across the horizon and seeping into the untouched drifts like watercolor on silk. It had been beautiful—almost painfully so. But not as beautiful as the warmth of the bed you’d left behind, or the person you’d woken up next to, making you question things you’d rather not dwell on.

As you trudge forward, the landscape transforms around you—trees bowed under the weight of snow, deer darting into the thicket, startled by your approach. Occasionally, you catch sight of dark caverns nestled into the mountainside, and one finally catches your eye. “Can we rest in there?” you ask, pointing.

Jungkook sighs, reluctantly nodding. “Fine, but only long enough for a snack and some water.”

You and Yoongi both exhale in relief, each of you slinging off backpacks as you duck into the small, cold shelter of the cave. Jimin strolls past, tossing a wink your way, and you can’t help but curse inwardly at how infuriatingly good he looks in that white and blue snowsuit, his blonde hair practically glowing against the muted backdrop of snow and rock. No, you tell yourself, forcing your gaze elsewhere. You will not let him get under your skin. Not today.

Inside, you settle on the rocky ground, pulling out a protein bar with trembling fingers, too cold to bother savoring the taste. Outside, the snow has thickened, the wind howling as it funnels through the cave’s mouth, whipping icy tendrils against your skin. You shiver involuntarily, glancing at the darkening sky. The storm clouds gather, swirling overhead, and the wind feels more menacing now, as if urging you back to the cabin’s warmth.

“The weather’s getting worse—don’t you think we should head back?” you ask, casting an uneasy glance at the others, but Jungkook shakes his head resolutely. You can’t fathom his determination, his relentless drive to conquer the mountain as if it’s some mythical prize that only he can claim.

Reluctantly, you pull on your goggles, shielding your eyes against the stinging snow, and follow the group out into the blizzard’s embrace. The world around you is pure white chaos, the snowflakes swirling in a furious dance, but somehow, you keep moving, each step drawing you higher into the snowstorm.

You don’t know how long you’ve been trudging forward, but when you glance back, the cabin is nowhere in sight, swallowed by snow and distance, leaving a hollow ache in your stomach. The snowfall thickens, shrouding the world in a relentless white, pulling you back to memories of the snowstorm you braved with Jimin on the way to Seokjin’s Christmas party. You shake off the thought and face the group, voice firm and brooking no argument. “I can’t see a thing. I’m done—let’s turn back.”

Yoongi sighs with relief, already turning around. “I’m with you,” he mutters, not hiding his frustration.

Jungkook, still a stubborn figure cutting through the snow, scoffs. “What, are we scared now?”

You let your words fly over the whistling wind, fury sparking in your eyes. “Call it scared if you want, but I’m not planning to be buried out here. It’s not safe.”

Namjoon checks his phone, frowning as he reads, “The weather app says a storm’s coming—and it’s not letting up for days.”

A heavy silence falls, filled only by the wailing wind and the cold sting of snow against your face. Another storm. Your heart sinks.

“Told you this was a mistake,” Yoongi grumbles.

Jungkook finally concedes, his tone subdued. “Alright. We’ll head back.” Despite his daredevil spirit, he knows there’s no pushing through this. Relief flows through you at the thought of the warm cabin, the crackling fire, and eggnog shared between friends.

As you start the descent, birds flit across the white-gray sky, a fleeting touch of beauty against the coming storm. But a strange creak rises over the howl of the wind. An uneasy chill runs through you. “Did anyone else hear that?”

“What sound?” Taehyung shouts, eyes squinting as he tries to make out shapes in the swirling snow.

The wind muffles it again, but then—another deep, ominous creak, louder this time. Everyone freezes, and in the silence, you hear it: a faint roar that steadily grows, like a beast roused from its slumber. The snow shifts, and dread settles like lead in your gut.

“Let’s hurry,” you say, voice tense, and everyone quickens their pace. You and Jimin are at the back, struggling against the thickening storm. Then it comes again, an unmistakable, thunderous rumble echoing down the mountainside. You whip around in time to see it: a churning cloud of snow cascading toward you.

“Avalanche!” you scream, panic seizing you as the world erupts into chaos. The group scatters in every direction, shouts lost in the storm, but Jimin’s hand is on yours, firm and unyielding as he drags you down the slope, weaving through trees with urgent speed. The ground trembles underfoot, and you feel the roaring snow closing in, seconds from swallowing you whole. Breath ragged, heart pounding, you realize with icy dread that this might be the end.

But just as the avalanche draws near, a dark shape looms before you—a rocky cave. Jimin pulls you inside, the world plunging into blackness just as the avalanche thunders past, shaking the walls around you. You collapse, gasping, Jimin’s hand steady against your trembling glove covered fingers. Snow clogs the cave entrance, sealing you in darkness, yet somehow his presence keeps you grounded, the steady rhythm of his breath slowing your racing pulse as silence falls once more.

“Jimin?” you whisper into the dark, your voice a soft tremor against the silence.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he replies, though his tone is taut, barely concealing the edge of panic. The tension in his voice mirrors the tightness building in your chest.

“I think… we’re stuck.” The words fall out softly, as if speaking them too loudly might somehow make them more real.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, glancing at the snow-packed entrance, his expression tense and shadowed. “Our way out’s completely blocked.” Slowly, as your eyes adjust, his face emerges from the shadows—concern etched into every line, vulnerability softening the usual spark in his eyes.

“It’s alright. The others will find us soon.” You try to sound confident, to reassure him, even as a chill of doubt creeps through you.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice carrying the barest hint of uncertainty.

A moment of heavy silence passes before you offer, “We could try digging us out. Fresh snow should be lighter, easy enough to move.”

But Jimin just sighs, moving deeper into the cave before sinking down onto the rough, cold ground. “Too tired,” he murmurs, reclining against his backpack and looking up at the darkness above.

You join him with a huff, feeling the exhaustion seep into your bones as you sit beside him. “Yeah, me too.”

He shifts slightly, making room as you slide closer, the cold penetrating even through your thick snowsuit. “Maybe we just… wait,” he suggests, his voice low and resigned, and you nod, grateful just to have him beside you.

In the quiet of the cave, you take out your phone, pull your gloves off, fingers stiff from the cold as you type a quick message to the group chat. Is everyone okay? Can anyone help us get out of this cave? You hit send, hoping the signal reaches, hoping that somehow, somewhere, they’re safe and will see your message.

Time passes, an endless stretch of waiting in the darkness. The cold presses closer, burrowing deep, and you pull your knees up, trying to conserve warmth. “It’s so cold,” you whisper, teeth chattering.

“Yeah,” Jimin murmurs, slipping an arm around your shoulders, drawing you against him. His warmth radiates through the layers of clothing, his breathing soft and steady against your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice small as you settle against him, aware of his closeness—the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his steady warmth grounding you. 

A silence stretches between you, and for the first time, you notice the delicate details of his face in the dim light. His lips, full and red, look as if he’s been worrying them with his teeth, the faint hint of color a stark contrast to his now pale skin. Your gaze lingers, and your heart skips a beat as he catches you staring.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence. His eyes flicker toward you, a breath catching as he seems to consider his answer.

Finally, he exhales softly, the sound barely a sigh. “Why do you hate me?” His voice is unguarded, almost vulnerable, like he’s been carrying the question far too long.

You blink, taken aback by the rawness in his question, and the easy reply slips away. It’s not hate, not really, but how can you tell him that? How do you explain the sharp, confusing tangle of emotions you feel every time you’re near him, the way he gets under your skin in a way no one else does?

You take a slow breath, willing yourself to find the right words in the quiet space between you.

“Jimin, I—” You trail off, the words twisting on your tongue, tangled somewhere between honesty and hesitation. Searching his gaze, you feel an odd, disarming softness in your own. “I don’t hate you,” you say, the admission spilling out quietly, as if confessing to yourself as much as to him.

“But you call me your enemy,” he replies, a sudden edge of hurt threading through his voice, as though you’ve wounded him in some way you hadn’t intended.

“I…” You hesitate. “I do.”

A crease forms between his brows as he looks at you, like he’s trying to decipher a riddle hidden behind your eyes. “I just don’t get it. You say you hate me so much, but you still… you still choose to sleep with me.” He pauses, cheeks tinged with something that might be vulnerability, though his voice stays steady. “And don’t get me wrong—the sex is… incredible. But this,” he gestures between you, “it’s confusing.”

Your pulse quickens, and you nod, feeling the truth slipping closer, almost within reach. “Do you want the truth?” The words are barely a whisper, a question woven through the cool silence between you.

His gaze softens, and he nods, leaning forward. “I’d love for you to tell me the truth. Don’t hide anymore.”

The walls between you feel thin, as if the icy cave itself might crack open under the weight of your confession. With a long, trembling breath, you gather the words from the depths of your chest, feeling each one like a stone in your throat. “I hate you because… because you’re perfect. Everything seems to fall effortlessly into your hands—grades, women, money, opportunities, whatever you want, like it’s just waiting to be handed to you. You’re good-looking, too,” you add, unable to meet his eyes, “and you… act like you know it all, like you’re better than everyone. Like it’s easy to just be good, without ever showing a flaw, a struggle, anything real.”

Jimin’s face is shadowed, yet you see the surprise flicker across it as he absorbs your words.

“It’s irritating,” you continue, emboldened now, “to watch you from a distance, to see you seem so above it all. Would it hurt to be a little human?” You exhale, feeling the tension spill out with each word. “And if I’m being honest, it started long before any of this… since kindergarten, actually.”

A confused frown deepens on his face, and he tilts his head, caramel eyes searching yours in the dim light. “Kindergarten?” he repeats softly. “What did I ever do to you in kindergarten?”

A dry, self-deprecating laugh slips out as you remember the humiliation so clearly etched into your memory. “You stuffed worms in my locker, my shoes, the pockets of my jackets. Then one day, in front of everyone, you pulled my pants down and told everyone I was a boy. I was humiliated… crying… and you laughed like it was nothing.”

Jimin’s mouth parts in shock, his eyes widening as he absorbs your words. He falls silent, as though his mind is spinning back, searching for the fragments of his memory that still hold that image. 

“That was you?” His voice cracks slightly, touched by disbelief. He looks at you with something between remorse and horror.

You nod your head, a mixture of anger and sorrow swelling in your chest. “You don’t even remember?”

He winces, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he searches for words. “I… I’m so… I’m so sorry.” His voice is raw, laced with an almost childlike shame. He turns to you, eyes earnest and heavy with regret. “I was a kid—a stupid kid. I… never realized the weight of what I did.”

You shake your head, meeting his gaze evenly. “You’ve always been a dick, Jimin. A bully,” you add, hoping it stings just enough.

He nods slowly, his lips pulling into a remorseful line. “I know. I know I’ve been… careless. And I wish I could take all that back. I wish I could change what I was, what I… did.” He pauses, glancing down, biting his lip like he’s gathering courage. 

But then his hand reaches out, gently brushing yours in the cold. His eyes meet yours, brimming with apology. “If you’ll let me, I want to try and be… better. Real. Not perfect, just… me.”

“It was humiliating, Jimin. I was the laughing stock for years—well into school,” you say, voice softening with a hurt you’d almost forgotten. Your gaze flickers to his, hesitant, but steady. “And even now, as adults, you never stopped singling me out, teasing me. At first, I thought you were just bullying me all over again.” You hold his eyes, bracing yourself. “But that’s not what it was, was it?”

He swallows hard, his throat working as he searches for words. “No,” he replies, voice almost a whisper. “I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. Not then, not now.”

“I know that… now,” you breathe, barely above a whisper. You can feel something shifting, unspoken.

He looks down, mittens pressed against his temples, and you see him struggling, caught between words. “It’s your turn to be honest, Park,” you prompt gently, needing him to lay his truth bare, even though you think you already know. You’ve been holding onto a realization, but you want him to say it, to free you both from these years of misunderstandings.

He lets out a shaky sigh, his gaze tracing your face with a softness that catches you off guard. “I… I liked you. Even back then, I thought you were amazing—strong, fierce, and different from anyone else. I wanted so badly to get your attention, to make you notice me. But the only thing that seemed to work was… making fun of you.” He pauses, rubbing his head with a small, almost defeated smile. “I know how it sounds. I was a stupid kid. I just didn’t know any other way.”

You stare at him, breath catching, your chest tight. He liked you. Past tense. Your heart beats louder as you whisper, “And now?”

He meets your gaze, a spark of humor and something deeper lighting his expression. “To be clear, I still like you,” he says, words filled with a raw honesty. “I still think you’re fierce and strong and… stubborn as hell.” He laughs softly, glancing down as his cheeks flush. “But I’m sorry, truly. I’ve been a jerk, trying to get close to you in all the wrong ways.”

A laugh slips from your lips, warm and soft. “That you are,” you tease, hoping it stings just a little, though your voice is laced with a fondness you can’t hide.

He chuckles, a little nervously, but he inches closer. “Maybe, but…” His voice lowers. “I’m your jerk.”

And that’s all it takes. You move toward him, closing the space, and press your lips to his with a need that has simmered, unacknowledged, for so long. His mouth is soft, tender and cold at first, but as the kiss deepens, warmth spreads, igniting between you like a long-awaited spark finally catching flame. His hand rises to your cheek, his touch hesitant, reverent, as though he’s savoring each moment, each breath.

A low sound escapes him, his lips parting just enough for his tongue to trace your lips, soft but insistent. You open to him, feeling his breath, tasting him in a slow, heated dance that feels both new and achingly familiar. It’s as though every word left unsaid, every look and touch left unshared, has led to this moment—an unspoken promise unfolding between you.

For years, you’d run from this, denying the pull between you, clinging to your hate to hide the want. But in his kiss, there is a confession, a surrender to the fire you’d both fed. You feel him breathe out, his lips curving into a soft smile against yours, and you can’t help but return it. For the first time, that tension between you isn’t a battle—it’s something beautiful.

Whatever it is that’s sparked between you and Jimin these past few weeks—this whole holiday season, really—has been wild, confusing, and so, so good. He knows how to rile you up, pulling at every loose thread in you, but somehow it always leaves you wanting more. You breathe out a laugh and press a kiss to his cold cheek, feeling the scrape of winter on your lips.

“I don’t… I don’t really hate you anymore,” you whisper, breath mingling with his as it hangs in the frozen air.

He tilts his head, eyes dark and half-lidded as he gazes into yours. “Hmm?” he murmurs, his voice low, dangerous in a way that thrills you.

You feel a warmth rise through you and giggle, words spilling free. “Actually, I think I kind of like your stupid ass.” Your confession hangs between you, breaking the ice you’d held onto for too long.

He lets out a deep, satisfied chuckle, brushing his lips over yours before catching your bottom lip gently between his teeth. “So you do, do you?” he murmurs, his smirk curving just right.

He laughs, soft but filled with a rough, quiet possession. “You’re such a brat,” he teases, voice a warm rumble against your skin. “But you’re mine. Right?”

“Yes, yours,” you gasp, feeling heat spread through you, even through layers of wool and fleece. And when his gloved hand traces your cheek, the cold feels electric, meeting the fire he stirs in you.

You press closer to him, fighting against the fabric that holds you back, and your fingers drift to the zipper of your snowsuit. “I think you’re the only one who can warm me up,” you murmur, voice laced with a tempting edge as you bat your eyes up at him. You ease the zipper down slowly, watching his eyes track the movement, the hunger flickering there, even in the shadows.

He watches your movements, tongue flicking across his lips. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” he asks, voice low, but his own fingers stray to his zipper, betraying his anticipation.

“Don’t you want me?” you ask, coy, breathless. “I’m freezing,” you whisper, letting his name fall from your lips like honey. “Warm me up, Jimin.”

A shiver runs down your spine as you slip out of your snowsuit, baring your skin to the chill. You let each layer fall away, watching his gaze darken with every inch. The way he looks at you makes you feel like a fire ready to ignite, even in this icy cave.

“Do you want to touch me?” you murmur, letting your hands slide up over your skin, cupping your breasts and circling your perk nipples with your fingers. “Keep me warm?”

His breath catches, and you hear the small intake of air as his eyes roam over you. “You’ll be the death of me,” he says, words rough, barely restrained. His mittens fall away, and his hands shake slightly as he unzips his own suit, each motion slow, deliberate, eyes locked onto you as he bares himself, piece by piece.

His last layer falls away, and he stands before you, bare, his skin glowing in the dim light. He’s beautiful—always has been—but now, here, he’s something else entirely, a vision you want to savor, every single inch.

Your body feels like it’s burning, a heat that cuts through the cold and wraps around you both, a living, pulsing warmth that’s only intensified by the nearness of his skin against yours. You press closer, savoring the spark that flares between you.

Here, in the shelter of the cave, the storm howling outside, you can finally give in to him—no barriers, no misunderstandings, just you and him, bodies and hearts both raw, reaching for the warmth of each other, finally unguarded.

“Maybe you should look in a mirror sometime,” you pant, voice soft but daring as you lean closer, fingers sliding to rest on his strong, tense thighs. “Then you’d understand why everyone either hates you or wants you—you’re too damn good-looking.”

He shivers, the surprise flickering across his face, quickly replaced by a laugh. “Cold! God, your hands are freezing,” he says, teeth flashing in a grin that’s both playful and predatory.

“But my mouth is warm,” you whisper, your words laden with heat, slipping between you like a spark catching flame. “Would you like me to warm you up?”

A low groan tumbles from his lips, raw and resonant in the stillness of the cave. His eyes flash with need. “Fuck, yes… show me how much of a filthy brat you are, how good you take my cock,” he murmurs, biting his lip as he watches you, the hunger in his gaze unmistakable.

You move closer, lips parting as you take him into the warmth of your mouth, and he gasps, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. You know your hands are icy, so you hold them steady on his thighs, giving all the warmth you can to him through the softness of your lips, each deliberate, tender movement of your tongue.

“Here, hold on,” he breathes, voice catching as he leans forward, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t care if your hands are cold—hold me. We’ll warm up together.”

You let your fingers dig gently into his thighs, and the intensity of his gaze on you sends a rush of warmth down your spine. With every movement, every soft sound he makes, you can feel your own heart quicken, feel his fingers thread into your hair, guiding you just the way he likes. He groans low, head falling back, eyes squeezed shut.

“Can I fuck your mouth now?” he whispers, his voice barely a breath, desire heavy in each syllable.

You squeeze his thigh in answer, and he tightens his hold, moving with a newfound rhythm, a need that’s both patient and wild. He moves against you, each movement controlled but trembling at the edges, and you let yourself melt into the moment, matching his pace, losing yourself in the heat of his touch and the unspoken need between you.

“So dirty,” he rasps, one hand sliding to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin in a soft, reverent gesture. “Your mouth is perfect.”

His praise sends a thrill through you, and you can’t help but respond, letting him feel the depth of your want in the press of your lips, the urgency in the way you take him. He gently brushes a thumb across your cheek, his hand soothing even as his breathing grows more erratic.

But then he pulls back, gaze tender yet intense as he catches his breath, looking down at you with an expression that makes you feel like the world’s slipping away outside the cave, leaving just the two of you.

“I want to cum inside your pussy, but first I want to taste it,” he murmurs, voice rough with need, his thumb lingering just below your lip. 

With the back of your hand, you wipe the dampness from your lips, whispering a single word, “Please.”

A grin curls across his lips, admiration flickering in his eyes. “My little cockslut,” he murmurs, voice low with praise.

“Lie down,” he instructs, gesturing to the soft fold of your snowsuit. You spread it on the ground, sinking onto it and parting your legs, heat radiating as you yield to him, vulnerability and desire intertwining.

He lets out a soft, appreciative sound, dropping to his knees and gazing down at you, his face close enough that you feel his breath trace delicate patterns along your skin. “So pretty and wet,” he groans, eyes dark with promise. “And I’m going to devour you. I think you deserve it, don’t you?”

A shiver skims through you as his breath fans over your skin, stirring the ache in you, anticipation pooling like molten warmth. He lowers his head, pressing soft, reverent kisses along your thighs, moving ever closer to where you need him most, his eyes locked on yours as if he’s drinking you in.

Without another word, he dives in, his mouth covering you with deliberate intensity, the warmth of his tongue drawing desperate sounds from your throat. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in the softness there, and you close your eyes, letting yourself surrender to each unhurried touch, each flicker of sensation he sends rippling through you.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you pant in pleasure.

The world outside the cave melts away as he moves with breathtaking skill, every graze and stroke pulling you deeper under his spell. He hums against you, his hands gripping your hips, and the vibrations send fresh waves of longing through you, toes curling as pleasure builds, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge, “That sinful tongue, Park,” you moan.

“I’m gonna come soon.”

You feel the touch of his cool fingers trace along your thighs, sending shivers through you, every nerve alight with anticipation. His fingertips graze your skin, drawing a soft quiver from deep within as his hand slides into you with reverence, coaxing you to open wider, instinctively welcoming him.

His lips and tongue explore with both gentleness and urgency, and each flicker, each lingering movement ignites a fire in your core, every cell in your body pulled taut, straining toward release. His hand moves with deliberate care, matching the rhythm of his mouth, deepening your pleasure as he senses the way your breath catches, your body arching and moving under his touch.

As his fingers press further, a delicious warmth blooms and pulses within you, and everything—your breath, your heartbeat, the world beyond—fades, leaving only the intensity of the connection between you. It builds slowly, steadily, like a wave gathering strength before it crests, your body and his locked in the timeless dance of anticipation and fulfillment.

“Jimin!” When your release finally overtakes you, it’s like being swept under by a warm current, filling you, leaving you breathless as he continues to hold you, his movements gentle, guiding you back down. He leans up, his face radiant, his gaze tender as he meets your eyes, and then he’s kissing you, his lips soft and warm, grounding you in the closeness you share.

“Jimin, please—fuck me like you did yesterday,” you whisper, your voice a sultry caress in the dim light, a soft yet desperate plea. Yet, deep down, you know there’s no need for such entreaties; he would give you the universe if you asked, for he is undeniably weak for you—a truth that has lingered in the air between you from the very beginning. 

As he crawls over you, you can feel his cock stirring, his body pressing closer, the warmth of his skin igniting a delicious ache within you. His face glistens with the evidence of your orgasm. He leans down, capturing your lips with his, the kiss deep and hungry, wrapping you in his embrace, soft and inviting. 

You savor the taste of yourself on his mouth, an intoxicating blend of sweetness and urgency that sends shivers racing down your spine. You can feel him, hard and throbbing, poised over your sensitive core, and every nerve ending ignites in anticipation. A heady mix of longing and need courses through you, the world outside fading away as you focus solely on him, yearning for the moment he finally fills you completely.

You gaze into his eyes, a storm of emotions swirling within you, wondering why it took so long to confront the truth that has simmered beneath the surface. With a rush of boldness, you bite your lip and pull him into a deep, fervent kiss, surrendering to the heat that has long been building between you.

When he finally pulls away, a teasing smile dances on his lips. “My needy little brat,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. “I’ll give you what you crave, don’t worry.” His hand strokes his cock, teasingly placing it against your slick folds, nudging them apart, igniting a fire of desire deep within you. You feel elated, ready for him to claim you as his own—like he can’t enter you fast enough.

Slowly, he pushes into you, a low groan escaping his lips as he fills you completely. “You’re always so fucking tight, no matter how many times I fill this perfect pussy,” he pants, anchoring himself on either side of your arms, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with lust and admiration.

You don’t respond, lost in the bliss of the stretch, the way he fills you up just as you crave. He grunts as he reaches the hilt, pausing to catch his breath before pulling back, only to thrust back into you with delicious force. 

“Fuck!” you gasp as he finds a rhythm, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure coursing through you. You revel in the sensation, your body alive with longing. 

“You really like my cock, huh, brat?” he teases, the usual playful tension replaced with a tenderness that sends warmth flooding through your chest. 

“Yes. I’m obsessed with your cock, Jimin,” you breathe, your hands roaming, gripping your thighs to change your angle, urging him deeper.

“Right there—fuck, it’s so good,” you mumble, each thrust striking your g-spot perfectly, sending sparks of ecstasy dancing behind your eyelids. 

“My brat, all mine,” he pants, driving into you deeper, harder, an intoxicating blend of pleasure and possession. 

“Hugging me so perfectly,” he breathes, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

He leans down, his warmth enveloping you as his mouth finds a nipple, sucking hungrily. You moan, your fingers tangling in his hair, craving more of his touch. 

A new orgasm builds within you, heightened by the way he fills you, surrounds you with his warmth and the intoxicating scent of him—musky and primal. His tongue dances over your nipple, teasing it before moving to the other, and you feel yourself spiraling, stars flickering in your vision.

“Jimin, I’m coming again,” you gasp, your voice barely a whisper as he sneaks a hand between your bodies, circling your clit with deft precision. The tension inside you tightens, coiling like a spring ready to snap. Your body arches, pressing your breast into his warm mouth as he continues to thrust into you. 

Just as the wave crashes over you, he pulls his finger away from your clit, leaving you panting, blissfully dazed. He pops off your nipple, gazing at you with a mix of admiration and desire. “My sweet brat,” he whispers, his voice thick with longing. “So beautiful when you come.” 

You bite your lip, feeling the throb of his cock deep inside you, aware that he’s close too, and the thought ignites another wave of need within you.

“Jimin-ah,” you pant, your voice thick with desire, “fill me up with your seed,” you moan, lost in a haze of pleasure.

“I’m gonna fill you up real good,” he promises, urgency lacing his tone as he quickens his thrusts, snapping his hips against you with raw fervor. 

“Fuck. I’m gonna come too,” he grunts, each word a desperate plea as your pussy throbs around him. With a strained moan of your name, he releases, his warm essence flooding you, filling you completely. A wave of ecstasy washes over you, and you can’t help but moan in response, a sound of both satisfaction and yearning.

He stills inside you, breathless, both of you bursting into laughter at the sheer intensity of your desperation. He lays his head against your chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of your heart, the warmth radiating from your skin.

“Why did we waste so much time?” he asks, his voice soft and breathless.

“Because you’re a jerk and I’m a stubborn brat,” you reply with a teasing laugh, your fingers threading through his hair, ruffling it playfully. “But we’re here now,” you add, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, a promise of what’s to come.

For a while, he remains within you, and you don’t mind that his semen seeps out, mingling with the cold air of the cave. The chill surrounds you, but in this moment, you’re cocooned in each other’s presence, and you drift off to sleep, naked and intertwined.

When you wake, a chill has settled over you, and Jimin lies beside you, his arm wrapped protectively around your frame. But the cold bites at your skin, and you shiver, unsure of the hour or how long you’ve been ensconced in this cave.

A discomfort lingers between your legs, a reminder of the night before, and you groan at the sticky feeling. Jimin stirs beside you, his voice thick with sleep. “What time is it?” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

You reach for your backpack, fingers fumbling until you pull out your phone. A rush of surprise hits you as you see that an entire day has slipped away. “It’s morning apparently,” you say, the words echoing in the quiet cave.

“Ugh, it’s so cold,” he groans, drawing you closer, seeking warmth as you let him spoon you, his body a comforting heat against the biting chill.

“We should eat something though,” you suggest, your stomach rumbling in agreement.

“Do you have more protein bars?” he asks, voice still heavy with sleep.

“Yeah, a few. But do you have water? I’m almost out,” you reply, feeling his warm hands wander across your skin, igniting a soft sigh of pleasure from your lips.

“I do,” he answers, and with a reluctant sigh, you both rise, reaching for sustenance. You munch on protein bars and sip water, but a quick glance at your phone reveals a troubling truth—there’s no signal, and both your phones are perilously low on battery in the relentless cold.

“My stomach hurts,” you admit, a twinge of discomfort settling in.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern knitting his brows as he studies your face, his warm gaze searching for answers.

“I have to…,” you hesitate, a flush of embarrassment creeping over you. “I have to poop.” 

He bursts out laughing, the sound echoing in the cave like a burst of sunlight breaking through clouds. You stare at him, disbelief mingling with mortification. “If you have to go, don’t hold it in; that’s not healthy, you know. Just go over in that corner,” he points to the very spot where you’d relieved yourself yesterday. God. This is so not sexy at all.

“I’m not pooping in the corner. I’ll just hold it in,” you groan, mortified.

“Suit yourself, but you never know when the others will find us,” he says matter-of-factly. “Maybe we should try digging ourselves out?” A playful grin lights up his face, and you hate that you confided in him.

“I just don’t think I can do that in front of you,” you mutter, getting up to put your clothes back on, your cheeks burning.

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “but at this point, we’re practically married. I’ve seen you cry, be a brat, pee, and everything else in between.” 

You sulk, the fiery banter reigniting as you jut out your bottom lip and cross your arms while he gets dressed, the familiar warmth of your friendship sparking once more.

“But be my guest and keep it in,” he says, moving toward the entrance. He begins to dig with his gloved hands, but the effort seems futile. You walk over to him, helping him remove the stubborn snow, only to find it’s solid ice. 

“I think it’s frozen over from the night. Damn it,” he pants, frustration seeping into his tone. “How are we going to get out?” you ask, desperation creeping back into your voice.

“I think we just have to wait for the others to find us. We still have some food and water, so we’re fine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, retreating to your previous spot. You follow him, sitting down beside him, feeling utterly deflated.

“Hey, try to look happy while being stuck with me,” he huffs, curling his legs up for warmth.

“Sorry,” you reply, momentarily forgetting about your stomach’s protest. “I just don’t know what we can do,” you admit, feeling the weight of uncertainty.

“Well, we could always keep each other warm again,” he suggests, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, and that’s all it takes for the fire to reignite within you. You shed your clothing, drawn into his embrace, kissing him with an urgency that banishes all thoughts of discomfort. Time stretches and bends, and you lose count of how many times you and Jimin have surrendered to each other in this cave. Both of you feel drained and cold, so you curl up together, using your snowsuit as a mattress and his as a duvet, your bodies intertwined.

“What if we’re going to die in here?” you muse, unable to find the solace of sleep.

“Relax, we won’t,” he murmurs, nudging your naked back as he wraps an arm and leg around you, the softness of his skin warming you. You feel his gentle presence against your backside, a comforting weight.

“How can you be so sure?” you ask softly, your voice barely a whisper.

“I can’t, but one of us has to be positive,” he grunts, his breath deep and steady, a lullaby that eases your fears.

You drift into sleep like that, cocooned in his warmth, surrounded by the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against your back.

When you awaken, the warmth of Jimin’s rock-hard cock presses against your back, and you catch your breath, a jolt of electricity coursing through you. Seeking his warmth, you instinctively arch your hips back, pressing your ass further into him. He groans softly, his arm slipping over your bare breasts, fingers grazing a sensitive nipple, sending a wave of pleasure radiating through you. 

“Jimin—,” you moan, rolling your hips against him once more, and his delight-filled groan vibrates through your body, igniting a primal urge within you.

He begins to move against you, rutting against your ass, grunting in time with his thrusts. His fingers play with your nipple, teasing and pinching, and your pussy throbs in response, each pull of your breath turning quicker and deeper as arousal ignites your body like wildfire. 

Suddenly, he withdraws his hand from your nipple, positioning it at his cock, pressing it between your cheeks. “Move forward a bit,” he instructs, his voice low and sultry, and you obey, angling your body just right for him.

In an instant, he starts to thrust against you, not yet entering, but the heat of it makes you shiver with desire. His hand trails down your stomach, gliding toward your slick folds. With deft fingers, he begins to rub circles around your clitoris, and you can’t help but moan, the sensation overwhelming you.

He leans closer, his breath warm against your ear as you lie side by side. “My dirty brat wants dick again?”

“Didn’t get enough yesterday?” he teases, pressing down harder on your clit, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“I’m always hungry for you Jimin,” you pant, the naked truth spilling from your lips. You crave him, a desperate yearning that cannot be quenched, and in this moment, you can’t stay away.

“So dirty, my girl, right?” he breathes, the question lingering between you like a sweet promise.

“I’m yours, only yours,” you confess, needing him to know—because you are infuriatingly in love with him.

“And I’m yours,” he replies, kissing your shoulder tenderly, fingers working your clit with growing urgency. “Are you gonna come on my fingers?” he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes—,” you choke out, the coil of pleasure inside you tightening with rapid intensity.

His fingers dance left to right, up and down, then he pinches your sensitive nub, and you bite your bottom lip to stifle a moan. “I want to hear you,” he urges, his voice dripping with desire.

Your toes tingle, your entire body igniting in heat. “Jimin—, I’m gonna,” you pant, and then the waves crash over you as you reach your orgasm, the world around you fading into bliss thanks to his skilled fingers and that filthy mouth of his. He nibbles at your ear while rubbing you through your orgasm, his cock thrusting insistently between your cheeks.

“Fuck, you almost had me coming too. It’s so tight between your ass,” he murmurs, his voice warm and sultry as you descend from your high. Jimin’s hand wraps around your leg, hoisting it up, and he positions his cock at your entrance, your pussy fluttering in anticipation, still tingling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Then he slides in, grunting, “So fucking good, always.”

You moan his name in sheer delight, “Please move.”

He grunts, and with a rhythm that feels like poetry, he begins to move his hips, his cock gliding in and out of you, drawing you deeper into the exquisite sensation.

“You can go faster,” you murmur, breath catching as he holds your leg up, his fingers strong against your thigh.

A low hum escapes him as he obliges, thrusting harder, each movement reverberating through you. “So wet for me,” he pants, his hand squeezing your thigh as he picks up speed, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward.

When he starts hitting that perfect spot, stars blur your vision, your body arching instinctively into him. You’re spent from all of yesterday, your muscles deliciously sore, yet here you are again, craving more. 

His breath is hot against your ear, voice a low rasp. “My filthy girl. Always wet for me, always begging for my cock,” he murmurs, and you feel yourself clench around him in response, his words driving you wild, pushing you further toward the edge.

You pant as he thrusts deeper, each motion a sweet agony, his hips snapping against yours, the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin filling the cave, a symphony just for you. “Little tease,” he breathes, “playing hard to get just to end up like this,” he says, almost growling the words against your neck, his tone both scolding and adoring, and it sends delicious shivers down your spine.

“Holy… Shit,” you moan, his relentless rhythm pushing you higher, his hands and cock guiding you past the breaking point. Your body tenses, waves of pleasure crashing over you as you come, and he doesn’t miss a beat. His hand finds your clit, rubbing it gently as you shake beneath him, his fingers slipping over your slickness before he brings them to his lips. “You squirted,” he grins, pride gleaming in his eyes as he tastes you, his gaze dark and devouring. “And you fucking taste incredible.”

His praise makes you clench around him, and he groans, driving into you, refusing to let up even as you try to catch your breath. “Fuck, Jimin,” you gasp, legs trembling with exertion.

“I’ve got you,” he assures, gently lowering your leg. Before you know it, he’s helping you to all fours, your head nestled against the softness of your snowsuit, and he lifts your hips, fingers firm at your waist. “Just a little more. I know you’re tired,” he whispers, his voice gentle but laced with desire. Settling onto his knees, he guides himself back into you, a deep moan slipping from your lips as he fills you to the hilt.

Gripping your hips, he pulls you back with each thrust, his rhythm quick, and every plunge feels deeper, more consuming. “So fucking tight,” he grunts, leaning down to nip at your shoulder as his hand smacks your ass, leaving a warm sting that only heightens the intensity.

He grips you tighter, fingers digging into your skin as he picks up the pace, and you feel yourself spiraling again, a third orgasm cresting before you’ve even come down from the second. Your body clenches around him, and it undoes him completely, a shudder ripping through him as he thrusts one last time, filling you as he groans in surrender, his release warm and full.

Breathless, he leans over you, his hand tracing gentle circles over your back. “Incredible,” he murmurs, caressing you in the afterglow, his praise softening the edges of exhaustion as you rest in his arms, completely spent but undeniably fulfilled.

Breathless and laughing, the two of you cling to each other as a noise echoes from the cave entrance. Suddenly, a chunk of snow tumbles inward, letting a burst of light cut through the dimness. Shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness, you spot Jungkook peering in through a widening gap. “Found them!” he calls out, then cringes, squinting. “Oh God—naked,” he grunts, feigning disgust as you scramble to pull your snowsuits over your bare skin, huddling together in hurried, flustered movements.

More snow is chipped away, allowing the full daylight to flood in, and soon the entrance is free. There, framed against the blinding white snow, stand all your friends, gawking with expressions ranging from surprise to outright amusement. You feel your cheeks ignite as they take in the scene—clearly, there’s no hiding what went on in the cave.

“We thought you were going to kill each other,” Taehyung quips, his eyes wide with mock horror as he takes in the scene.

Yoongi shakes his head, unfazed. “Told you they’d end up like this,” he mutters, already turning away to put his shovel back over his shoulder.

Seokjin groans theatrically, pressing a hand to his forehead. “For the love of all things holy, put some clothes on!”

Flushed and flustered, you stammer, “Could you maybe look away? A little privacy?” Jimin only chuckles at your side, entirely unbothered.

“Fine, fine,” Jungkook says, still grinning as they turn around, murmuring to each other, muffling laughter that echoes in the frosty air. You and Jimin hastily pull on your clothes, cocooning yourselves back into thick layers, but you feel oddly reluctant to step out of this little haven that the two of you created.

Just before heading out, you turn to him, and with a hand still bare, you reach up, cupping his cheek. “I meant everything I said, Jimin,” you murmur softly, your thumb brushing over his skin. 

He leans into your touch, eyes meeting yours with a warmth that seems to banish the cold. “Me too,” he whispers, and a beat passes, his gaze dropping to your lips before he finally asks, “Would you… do you want to make it official? Date me?” He’s almost shy, his heart racing, caught somewhere between hope and vulnerability, as if this simple question holds so much more.

The light in the cave catches the shimmer in your eyes as you tiptoe up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. “Yes, I want to date you, Park,” you whisper against his mouth, warmth radiating between you.

A smile breaks over his face, and soon it twists into that familiar, mischievous smirk. “Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teases, already slipping back into the confident Jimin you know so well.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile as you grab his hand, fingers lacing together naturally. And as you step out into the bright snow, your friends’ teasing laughter ringing through the air, you realize you’re ready to endure anything, as long as you’ve got Jimin by your side.

“Have you checked your phone lately?” Jungkook asks, a mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he’s holding back a secret, a playful glimmer dancing in his eyes.

“No, why?” you reply, the curiosity rising in your voice. “It ran out of battery—Jimin’s too.”

The others nod in silent understanding, but when you finally make your way back to the cabin, plug your phone into the charger, and open the group chat, your heart sinks. The screen floods with a storm of messages, a chaotic wave of words and emojis that makes your stomach twist and your cheeks burn. With wide eyes, you instinctively flip the phone over, as if doing so might somehow erase the flood of embarrassing texts, as if they might vanish with a simple turn of the screen.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv

→ Series taglist: @yopjm @chimmy-licious @aubrey0moore @jeonsbabygirlsworld @haru-jiminn @13-manggaetteok @mima795 @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @goldietigers294 @pjmxxjm @jimineepaboya 

→ Author’s endnote: HAHAHAHA 😂 How is it even possible for this couple to get more chaotic? Truly, their energy is unmatched. Did you have fun finally uncovering why they’ve been throwing daggers at each other this whole time? What do you think—was it worth the wait? Honestly, writing this unapologetically jerk version of Jimin has been an absolute blast for me 🤭 Like, it’s almost too fun to lean into his sass and pettiness! (Should I be concerned?) Can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[burymagdalene]

Crazy Little Thing Cold Love - S. Reid x Reader

Where the fierce cold brought by their holiday with the team to a ski lodge leads reader and Spencer to seek warmth in more ways than one in their room. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: Fluff and Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: softdom!Spence, fingersucking, dry humping, lots of messy kissing, fingering, oral (fem receiving), handjob, piv sex, overstimulation (I can’t help it), praise, fluff, of course, they love each other big time! wc: 6.1k. a/n: I genuinely did not think more than 20 people would read my last (first) fic, I was smiling ear to ear and stalked everyone who liked it basically. I hope this isn’t too long. I don’t know what the fic length sweet spot is. Anyway, I was imagining our pretty boy in the Alaska episode 5x21 while writing this. MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FILTHY ANIMAL

Despite not knowing how to ski, when Spencer invited you to join him and his team for a quick holiday to a ski lodge in Colorado, you nearly melted in excitement. 

You’re over at Spencer’s apartment, bag readily in hand, watching him try to find outfits for this occasion. “Well.. I’m not going to be skiing, so I think regular clothes will be fine, hm?”

“Just bring a couple sweaters or something, that’s what I did. And a swimsuit.” You comment as you lay on your stomach on his bed, scrolling through your phone. Spencer takes his head out of his closet to spin and look at you.

“I didn’t even think about that. Of course. Thank you.” He mumbles and walks to his dresser, unsure if he even has swim trunks here. In his bottom drawer he digs through ridiculous ties and socks he’s forgotten about and begrudgingly finds the only swim trunks he had since highschool.

You scoot your body towards the end of his bed, leaning your head over to look at the way-too-short purple swim trunks he’s holding up with an unmistakably gloom look on his face. “Oh… you have to try those on. Right now.” You request through giggles. 

Spencer stands up slowly placing the trunks in front of the trousers on his legs to see how the size difference from a pre-pubescent Spencer contrasts to now. How badly he’s about to be humiliated in front of his coworkers. 

It’s nothing too horrifying, just blatantly un-Spencer in a way that has you both laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Seeing your boyfriend in short shorts has yet to occur! Regardless, Spencer slips off his slacks and pulls the shorts over his legs, jumping to put pants on for the first time in his life.

Spencer does not look bad. The shorts are too high up, he has probably grown about 6 inches since he picked these out. The tag is still on, he’s never even worn them. They sit nicely fitted on his upper thighs and he has his hands covering his face laughing as he shows you. In an over exaggerated manly voice you laugh out a “do a little spin for me hot stuff” at a groaning Spencer.  

“Babe,” Spencer laughs “I cannot be seen in these. In front of my highly respected team as well. In front of… Morgan.” He begins to take them off and throws them into his duffle bag anyway. 

“Noooo you gotta. Plus it’ll probably be just the two of us in the hot tub or whatever at a time. We’re not all going to be sitting in it together. At least I hope not…” You giggle a bit at the image. You have to give Spencer props though, him a few years ago would’ve cancelled his RSVP or purposefully left the swimsuit at home leaving him to a trip of staying in a random log cabin reading. 

It’s not for a case, so the team does not have access to their own plane, making it so that you and Spencer are doomed to wake up at 5am to meet everybody at the airport. You give out multiple sleepy sidehugs, unable to believe how equipped everyone is at waking up at unbearable hours. With this though you are able to sleep through the flight from D.C. to Colorado just fine using Spencer as your pillow. 

The ski lodge made you gasp when you arrived. Snow that was not present in D.C. covered every inch of the area; two levels of wooden panels lead to a huge snow slope behind the lodge. Through many “ooh’s” and “aah’s” it was finally revealed that only Rossi, Hotch, and JJ knew how to ski. Though, Emily and Morgan were equally as interested in learning from the best. This left you, Garcia, and Spencer to inside activities; watching your friends ski, groaning at lack of cell service (Garcia), reading, and the wonderfully heated pool and hottub that rested on the porch overlooking the slope. This, of course, made everyone squeal. 

Rooms were doubled up and you and Spencer unpacked your bags chatting with Morgan who was leaning against the doorway regarding ski tricks.

“If you’re so uncoordinated and haven't touched a slope in your life, why would you care about how skiing can aid astronauts mobility?” Morgan questioned Spencer's rambling about astronauts who have experience with skiing and had an easier time walking on the moon. 

“Well I’m not walking on the moon anytime soon either I just think it’s fascinating that cross country skiing-”

“What is that?” Morgan interrupts Spencer when a sweater covering his trunks in his bag gets put away, revealing the tiny purple fabric. You start giggling as Spencer sighs. Morgan walks into the room and picks them up from his bag. “What does this sweet girl have you wearing for her, Reid?” He teases.

Spencer definitely grabs them from his hands “Nothing! I got them when I was in highschool, I don’t go swimming a lot.” He sighs and looks down at you shaking his head as if to say “what did I say?” without speaking. 

Morgan relents seeing Spencer's face redden a bit. “Ah, pretty boy, well, this look might be good for you, I can’t wait.” He exits laughing after ruffling Spencer's hair. 

Spencer plops down on the bed next to you, scooping you in his arms. “This better be the most heavenly hot tub I’ll ever experience…” he sighs into your neck. You wrap your arms around him too, running your nails softly over his back and whisper back “Oh stop. You deserve a break, it will be.”

Later that day after playing a few rounds of Spades, everyone decides it's time to face the cold, put on gear and ski. Or watch them from the patio. It’s amusing even though you have no concept of how they’re going down with such elegance. It almost looks too easy for them. You have two sweaters on and a ski coat. Apparently, coming out with one sweater and a coat was so offensive to Spencer that he made you tack on another layer. “You’re the coldest person I know, please add another, baby”. Spencer, who was bundled up himself, pleaded as you spun around on your heels to redress yourself without protest because you know he’s right. 

With your chin tucked into your hands, pressed between Penelope and Spencer, you all take on the roles of pseudo-Olympic commentators to pass the time. The horrible butchered transatlantic accent coming from you all worsened by the warmed eggnog held between cold palms. Spencer eagerly grins as he sees Morgan stumble a bit in his boots, “Yikes, not a good start for Morgan, whose first Olympics is this year. Now wait, wait, it is down to the wire but…YES, it looks like Morgan has gone for the gold and succeeded. Such a momentous moment in the young athletes career-”

Penelope slaps Spencer's arm, doubled over laughing at the fake news anchor voice he has adapted for this role he has put on. “Stop, stop, he’s going to get mad at you!” You all wipe the smiles off your faces and put on fake serious ones as Morgan trudges back up the slope, looking more suspicious than if you had just kept laughing. He shakes his head in disappointment towards the three of you.

All sort of tipsy and numb from the cold decide to go back inside. The rigorous ski activities today coupled with the early morning, causes the rest of the team to head to bed early. You and Spencer run towards your room at the same time, pushing past each other in the door frame as you try to stumble into warmth. 

You slide your coat off and plummet to the ground to turn on the space heater with a speed as though it was a bomb you had 3 seconds left to disarm. You put your hands near it to warm them, looking up from the floor to Spencer who is smiling down at you from the bed. He silently motions with his head for you to sit over by him.

Whining and pulling yourself away from the heater, you get up and stand between Spencer's slightly open legs. He places his arms behind him and slouches back on his palms to get a better look at your face from where you’re standing. He tilts his head innocently to the side and squints at you. “Is somebody too cold? I would’ve never guessed that…” 

Scoffing and pulling your arms around yourself to conserve heat you mumble back “Noooo… I mean. Just my hands. Hah, they feel like they’re made out of molasses.” Spencer gives a mocking sort of pitied smile up at you, which you ignore by the good graces in your heart. He shifts his weight back onto one hand and slips one of his chilled palms up the front of your sweater to your waist. You wince at the juxtaposition between your flushed skin under your layers and his icy hand. 

You grab his wrist from under your sweater with an icier hand. “Don’t… torture me.” You beg at him. He furrows his eyes together and pouts, as if the idea of removing his hand from the curve of your waist would drain all the blood from his veins. Spencer hums and takes it off anyway, sitting up straight and taking both of your wrists into his hands, placing them together so he can cover your hands with his, moving back and forth to spark some friction into them.

The heat starts quickly from your fingertips to your wrists and you hum in content. Spencer whispers a “Yeah, you’re okay,” in response. “Your hands are freezing, I’m sorry angel.” Very malleable from the sweet heat you’re finally getting, Spencer continues to move your hands so that your palms are facing his face now. He kisses your fingertips softly, the warmth from his mouth makes you let out an almost silent moan. 

“S’that nice?” He looks up into your eyes, you still standing there like if you moved all the heat you’ve accumulated on this spot of the floor would vanish. You nod breathlessly. Spencer smiles at your response, not wanting to tease you further, preferring the flush in your cheeks his warmth is supplying you over his taunting. He begins to press more soft, slow kisses over your fingertips, moving your hands at his will by your wrists. 

Then there is a progression to open mouth kisses on your palms, he bends your hands down to kiss over each of your knuckles, eyelids open and trained on your face. Spencer rubs his cheek on the back of your hands and moves them again so the sensitive skin of your inner forearms are facing him. Rolling up each sleeve of your sweater, he coos at the goosebumps that raise from the air on your newly exposed skin. The kisses start from your wrists up to the crux of your inner elbow. You get a second round of goosebumps from a different source now.

You let out a rush of air at the sensitivity picking up on your arms from his mouth, from the cold. Spencer places one last kiss on your arm and nips the inside of the sensitive skin there. At this you can only make a pinched face and mutter out a simple, “Spence.”

He can’t help but grin at your placidity, he’s used to your sharp tongue, but this evening you’re nothing but soft sounds and looks. Your goosebumps soon fade as he rubs your arms up and down a few times and slides each of your sleeves back to their rightful places. “Warm?” He questions finally.

Truthfully, the space heater has kicked up enough that you don’t feel like your life's on the line anymore and you on the outside are just as warm and fuzzy as you are feeling on the inside. Still, being doted on is never something you would allow to run short if you have any say in it. “Mmm… my fingers just can’t. Get warm?” You don’t even believe yourself.

Spencer decides to take pity on you anyway through the “woe is me” act you’re executing poorly. “Ahh. Pesky things. Let me try something.” Spencer picks up your right hand again with the delicacy of picking up a butterfly and places your fingers against his lips again. This time though as he’s looking up at you and cupping your hand with both of his, he positions your middle and ring finger down so that they’re the only two pressed against his lips.

Starting off, he kisses them like before, sickly sweet, only with your warmth in mind, then ups his ante a bit. With a small parting of lips, Spencer's tongue tentatively pokes out around the fingers. He’s testing the waters. Easily, you give an eager nod of approval. 

Another hum falls from Spencer's lips as he takes your two fingers, to the second knuckle, deeper into his mouth. Sucking your fingers now and staring up at you, you shuffle yourself closer to him, straddling his legs and resting your other hand against his shoulder for purchase.

Spencer’s hands slip from yours and find a place under your sweater again, and this time you let him with no complaints. You take your hand from his shoulder and cup his jaw gently with it, guiding his head back slowly, allowing him to take in more of your fingers. Spencer sucks them gently and moans around them when your fingers grip his jaw a bit too hard. You drop the hand that’s grabbing him. One has to be careful not to bruise the jaw that’s sucking their fingers. Something like that.

Letting go with a gentle pop, Spencer takes a breath of air and pushes his face up to meet yours in a wet kiss. Your wet fingers cup his face as he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. 

“Mmpf-” You groan, pain spreading lightly in your mouth now. You briefly think of your first kiss, how feather-light it was that you hardly even felt him there with how tentative he was. After all this time you’ve enabled this boyfriend of yours to use his teeth to nip you like a territorial kitten who is privy to love biting. 

With an open mouth you kiss him hard in a rebuttal that has him smiling against your lips. “Hmm, don’t groan, you’re not going to break,” he wraps his arms around you fully, moving his mouth to your ear now, “helpless little lamb-” his voice gentle despite his mocking candace. 

You don’t feel like baring your teeth, fully satisfied with allowing Spencer to push your buttons until he inevitably notices your novel docility and rewards you for it. You know him like the back of your hand. 

Wrapped in his embrace and legs open over top of him there’s an instinctual need in your brain needing you to grind down on him and a more voluntary decision bred from embarrassment that is saying too soon too soon. In the crossfire of these conflicted thoughts your thighs concoct an awkward shaky squeeze motion and immediately lift up from him. 

“Going somewhere?” Spencer says in a pretend-serious tone before snickering at you once you silently sit back down on him. He understands you just as well as you do him and slips the arms that are under your sweater to brace your hips against his. “Is this what you wanted? You can take whatever you want from me.”

Sitting back down to where you were previously on his lap you card your fingers through his hair. “How chivalrous…” you murmur against his lips before you open your mouth to kiss him again. You have learned how to utilize time being spent while kissing Spencer over the course of your relationship. Rather, you have learned how to kiss each other in a way that signals immediately to the other that you’re needing this to progress past dry humping. The way your lips are slotting together and the way he’s pulling on your lips with his is a blaring sign. 

After you let out a shuddering sigh while pulling away for a breath, Spencer uses this opportunity to usher you so that your back is flat against the bed and he’s resting his arms around your head on top of you. With one of his hands against your cheek and the other caging your head in you easily slip back into the version of yourselves that tremble with need, this desperation not well suited for either of you. Intolerable.

Spencer’s thigh is regrettably too far away for you to grind yourself against and in order to shake the throbbing at your center you wordlessly take his hand by your face and bring it down over your jeans. He takes the hint immediately cupping you so you can grind against his hand through the thick fabric. 

He likes to pull away for this part. Spencer stops kissing you so that while he’s rubbing your clit through your pants he can hear your unoccupied mouth moaning while he kisses along your jaw and neck. He thinks of it as a cheat code really, he gets to keep kissing your skin while simultaneously hearing your progression from moans caught in your throat to small whines and begs.

Surprisingly, Spencer is the first to break and ask for the fabric barriers to be discarded, which makes you proud because you’re the one who’s the most impacted by your (basically) industrial grade jeans prohibiting you from feeling your boyfriend's fingers against you. 

“Baby, these are killing me,” He’s already moving above you to unbutton your jeans and shimmy them down to around and off your ankles. “I promise I’ll keep you warm.” In all honesty you’ve forgotten about the biting wind outside and the slopes of snow toppling over, but you appreciate the sentiment regardless. The idea that being cold will genuinely stop you from having him inside you right now is laughable.

You sit up and take off your sweater and undershirt as Spencer is working on your lower half. Working as in mouthing over your cunt through your panties as you struggle to unhook your bra at the visual.

Your legs are parted, thick white socks still up to your shins, and once Spencer threw your jeans to the ground he laid between your legs to kiss and lick over your panties. You keep fumbling with the clasp whenever he sucks or kisses over your clit. Not the most efficient moment of your life. “J-Jesus, I can’t get this off.” You huff and break him out of his pussy-induced stupor. 

Spencer comes up from between your legs and shuffles over and unclasps your bra with such elegance that you can’t even comment on it because you know he’s boasting over it in his head. Instead you pull over his sweater and shakily unbutton the top half of his button up shirt while he works on the bottom half. Your hands briefly meet over his middle button and he kisses your forehead with a smile as he pops the last one open for you both. 

His own slacks are thrown off alongside yours on the floor and you both grab at each other to take off one anothers underwear in such an eager manner that you have to laugh at each other for a moment before finally sliding them off. 

Spencer guides your head with his hand behind it as you slowly lay down besides him. Knees propped up and together, he places one of his hands on the outside of your thigh, gently running his fingers tips up and down the skin. “Why don’t you go ahead and open up your legs for me?” He asks between petting your leg.

Now, he must notice that it would be too easy for him to open them for you, like he so naturally comes to do. He’s coaxed your thighs open, held them down from the backside of your knees while you squirm from his lips sucking your clit, pushed them together and to the side when you’re squeezing his sides too tight while he’s fucking you. There is something delightfully humiliating about spreading them open yourself. So eager to display for him the shiny wetness that has been coating you for a demeaning amount of time, like gifting him a bashful merit badge for his effortless work.  

You look up at him through your lashes, his eyes are fixed on the softness of your lower belly, waiting for the moment you start to move so he can see your sex being revealed the instant you do it. Pervert. Taking one of your hands away from the bed you trail it slowly from the bottom of your ribcage to the very part of your stomach that has Spencer transfixed. Teasing yourself and Spencer simultaneously, you push your hand between your closed thighs, still hiding yourself slightly, and dragging up some of the wetness you collected with your first two fingers.

This time your fingers go into your own mouth, sucking off the taste of yourself while you watch Spencer mouth breathe and the tip of his dick start to dribble. Poor thing. “I love you.” He whispers into the air, incentivizing you to just do what you’re told. 

Embarrassment flushes your chest as you part your legs for him, putting both of your arms lazily above your head, finally rewarding him with saying “I love you” back once your thighs are on opposite sides from each other and your pussy is on full display. 

He shuffles closer to you on his knees, arm reaching out to softly run his hand on the inside of your thigh. “Look at you… can I touch?” Spencer’s asking like he doesn’t know if he doesn’t you’ll die.

“I’ll die if you don’t.” He should get where you’re coming from. He smiles meekly to himself, proud, or maybe just plain excited, and spreads apart your lips with his fingers. Your toes curl in on themselves as he slides his middle finger through you, spreading your wetness and mulling your ache. It’s almost too much to watch this near-inspection and you turn your flushed cheeks to the side and look at how his dick is a matching shade of red to your face. You love this part. Tangible evidence to how he feels about you, not that you need any more, but seeing right in your face how being with you makes his thighs tense and cock heavy puts a smile on your face.

With two fingers now he’s collecting the sticky soft wetness that never stops collecting in times like these, and rubbing your clit with them in such a gentle way you scoff out a “Please-”

Immediately he gives in, he’s not a professional at avoiding your begs even when it's looking like he’s going to be in charge. Pressing his fingers harder against you he rubs faster circles onto where you’re pleading for it. “Being so bossy. We haven’t even started.” He quips, trying to gain back some of the fervor he has for being in control, not just sit back, be a good listener, and give give give. 

Your clit throbs helplessly against his fingers. Wanting them harder and faster, wanting them inside you, in your mouth, against your throat, you can’t help but whine at the possibilities montaging in your head. Spencer watches a small dribble of white essence leak from you, mutters a “Jesus” to himself and slides his two fingers off your clit to inside of you. You choke on your moan, not expecting to be so full so quickly, it’s perfect. Spencer isn’t teasingly fucking you with his fingers. He knows how to curl them, he does so. He knows to put his forearm into it in the way that makes you stamp your legs shut. He’s fucking you quickly and easily with them as you bring your hands over your face.

“There, Spence.” You mumble against your hands, biting the skin of your palm to be courteous to everyone else in the house right now.

“I know.” He pushes against that spot in you that’s made you cry and rubs with a pressure made with love. You buck your hips and let him get away with whatever he wants to do with you, but the noise coming from his fingers in you makes you want to float out of your body. 

Brows furrowed and head pressing back against the bed your hips start to twist, with a mind of their own, turning over onto Spencer's hand. This part you can’t control. “Mmm, Spencer. Okay, okay, fuck.” You’re bargaining in your own way, for something neither of you know, but Spencer figures out every time. He slips his fingers out and places them on your clit again. Wet and pruned from being inside of you, he can move fastly against it as you gasp.

“I wish you could see what I see right now. So wet. You’re about to ruin these sheets the first night, baby.” He laughs gently at you. 

“Th-then stop touching me.” You bite back. Immediately scared of the idea of him following through. 

Spencer would literally never do that. He rolls his eyes a bit and furrows his brows at you when you make eye contact. He hums and adds a third finger to rub circles against your clit, two not being enough anymore for a precise massage with how wet you are.

Moving slowly back flat against the bed, your pelvis gives up on trying to crush Spencer’s hand underneath them. When his other hand trails down to fuck you while he rubs your clit you look for a way to thank him without bringing humiliation to yourself for years to come. You feebly grip the base of his dick, palm fairly loose around him as he’s currently milking all of the strength from your limbs. 

Spencer plainly laughs at this, it’s so you. He’s making your brain leak from your ears and you can only pump him lightly a few times. The one instance where you two have tried to 69 this story ended a similar way, with his tongue doing unspeakable things while you can just moan around his dick and wetly kiss it. It’s hard to do things while he’s fucking you. 

You huff, wanting his pretty leaking dick to be getting the same amount of attention as you are. Keeping your one hand on his base to keep it from bobbing, you reach over with your other hand to rub his tip, smear himself all over the sensitive top. He’s stopped laughing now.

“Please don’t make me cum right now.” Spencer pleads softly as he starts to quickly rub your clit from side to side now instead of the circles he was doing before. Fuck, talk about a competition. Your back arches up from the bed as your hand falls limply from where it was on his tip.

Wanting to inform Spencer on how you can’t jerk him off while he’s touching you so he should just start fucking you properly is not a sentence in your capabilities right now so you try your best with a “fuck me fuck me fuck me.” Doesn’t leave much for interpretation.

He slows his fingers and pulls them away with a sad “sorry, angel…” after glancing at your sour face from the lack of stimulation you’re getting now. He slips off the bed entirely to grab a condom from his bag, and throws it on your stomach for you to open after his fingers slip trying to tear the wrapper himself from your wetness still on his fingers. 

Fully situated between your legs again now Spencer looks up at the ceiling briefly while you roll the condom on him as if saying a prayer for composure before he’s inside of you. You can’t help but smile at this as you start to rub him between your legs, grabbing his attention back onto the task at hand.

Whenever Spencer first slides into you, you have to make sure to keep your eyes open to watch his face since he nearly always wears the same angelic face that you never get to see elsewhere. His mouth becomes a small “o”, his eyebrows are furrowed together, but not like he’s squeezing them down, they’re pulled up in a blissed out expression as his eyelids flutter closed. Heavenly.

He’s got one of your thighs in his grasp and he’s pushing it up against your ribs as he begins a steady pace with his hips against yours. There’s strings of your slick attached to his upper thighs from your inner legs rubbing against him. Maybe you are making too much of a mess out of these poor clean sheets.

After his initial haze of trying not to come instantly, Spencer brings back down his right hand to continue flicking your clit back and forth with his wet fingers. You bite down on his shoulder to keep from terrorizing your housemates. Your propped up foot, still covered in your warm socks, thuds softly against his back as the other one grips onto the sheets. 

“Feel nice baby?” Spencer asks into your hair as you bite down onto him.

How he could ask you this is beyond you, though you suppose he’s indirectly asking you to feed into his praise kink. “You feel so perfect Spence,” you whine against him. “unhhh…might be a bit too obsessed with your cock” you slur and laugh a bit at the end, not sure what will do it for him. Nevertheless he lets out a choked whimper and loses his rhythm. Bingo. 

His weight is pushing you down so you can’t wiggle away from any of the stimulation he’s giving you. It accumulates quickly and, just laying there and taking it, you don’t get enough time to warn him you’re close. You weren’t close really, it felt good and then you came. Sucking in air through your teeth your thighs squeeze around Spencer, who is murmuring “oh baby…” into your ear. 

You want to kick him for how good he’s making you feel. It feels unfair and you want to throw a tantrum based on how his fingers are still rubbing your twitching clit and how much you love the feeling of drowning in his pleasure. You’d never throw a tantrum though. Right now, Spencer has caught you in a completely willing mood where you’re closer to proposing to him than anything.

It’s dizzying. Your mouth is wide open in shock as you let him touch you into overstimulation and you don’t even realize it till he lets go of the vice he had on your leg and brings his free hand to put his thumb into your mouth. Latching onto it immediately, you use it as a buffer, a gag, to prevent yourself from making too much noise or mouthing off. You bite down a little on the digit and drool rolls down your lips to your chin. Spencer takes his thumb out, collects it, and pushes it back into your mouth.

Spencer reverts back to rubbing your clit back and forth with his middle and ring finger, losing purchase a few times with how wet you are, but finding his way back to your sweet spot just as quickly. You feel the second orgasm building this time around. Your eyes shoot open, you suck softly on his thumb and he looks back down at you, recognizing the pleading look in your eyes.

“Yeah. Y-yeah, angel. S’a good girl-” he gives his sort of permission and you cum so hard you don’t realize he’s finishing right behind you. 

He’s petting your hair with his hand, both wet from either your cum or your spit and you try to shove that complaint out of your head because of how sweetly he’s moaning above you as he finishes. He’s done cumming but he tends to keep sliding into you after, not ready to give up the whole experience yet. This is when you hear his prettiest sounds.

You cup his cheeks and kiss all over his face and he softly smiles and finally pulls out of you, laying on his back and scooping you on top of him. Tracing a finger over his lips softly you whisper how impossibly good he always makes you feel, how he gets you so wet that you didn’t even know you had that much in you till the tips of his ears go red and he pinches your side. 

“Open for me.” He asks one more time after shaking off the blush that has accumulated from your praises. You smile and open, finally sucking off what’s left of yourself from his fingers. He pops them into his mouth after yours without a second thought and you cannot believe this is the man who gets the heebie jeebies when he has to shake hands with someone new he meets. They should be the ones hesitant to shake his hand with where they have been.

Both feeling ridiculously sticky, you shower together, not even bothering to unpack your toiletries, just using the too-lemony-smelling products the lodge has provided you with for free. Spencer washes your hair for you so you don’t even need to complain to him about how he’s dirtied it and you both trot back over to the bed with fuzzy robes on. 

You cover your face with your hands at the unmistakable wet patches all over the sheets and Spencer collects them quickly and pops them into the washer. 

Exhausted, you both lay side by side on the barren bed as you wait for the sheets to be done. Mumbled against your lips a proposition, “I want to see you in that hot tub.” He clearly feels bad for the goosebumps littering your torso that he’s subconsciously been trying to rub away for the last twenty minutes after you left the heat of the shower. 

Blinking blankly at him for a moment in silence you purse your lips, “I was thinking about the hot tub too.” The thought of removing yourself from the room that has cold leaking back into it from the lack of physical activity now is thrilling.

Spencer laughs and sits up next to you on the bed. “Everyone is so exhausted from waking up early and skiing all day that we will be all alone so I thought now would be a good-”

“Yeah,” you nod your head enthusiastically at him. You can’t remember the last time you were in a hot tub and it sounds like a dream right now. “Let me get my suit.” You both wobbly stand up and you retrieve your swimsuit from the drawer, laughing while you toss Spencer's trunks back at him. He’s so blissed out from the sex that he doesn’t even mention the trunks, he just slips them on and heads out. 

You make Spencer step onto the freezing porch first after you demand him to take the cover off the hot tub for you both, this was his idea after all. Watching from the glass door you blow your breath onto the glass to draw a little heart with an “S” inside of it in the fog. Spencer blows you a kiss in return as he skimpers out in his purple trunks and enormous ski coat.

The alternation between walking out in a swimsuit in that ungodly temperature, into the hot jets of the hot tub feels like whiplash, but once you’re fully submerged you giggle happily and sway your hands under the water.

You and Spencer play footsie under the water like two lovesick teenagers at a pool party as you look off the balcony at the snow. You nudge him under the water a bit before talking,

“Thank you so much for bringing me to this, seriously. I feel like we’re on our honeymoon.” you joke.

Spencer hums and takes your hands into his, rubbing the outside of your hand with his thumb. “Mmm, well on our actual honeymoon I’ll probably have to take you somewhere warm to avoid all this teeth chattering.” He teases back at you, but his words have an underlying sincerity that makes you sink yourself down into the water to your chin with a smile.

“You’re gonna marry meeee,” you respond in a sing-song voice, Spencer grins back for a moment then looks at you and nods earnestly. 

“How could I not?”

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ f1 masterlist

-----------------••✩🎅🏻❄️🎄✩••----------------

"𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤" "𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞?"

✩ : a real life christmas miracle at the hamiltons

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lewis hamilton

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : comfort, fluff

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1k

✍︎ : give these babies a little love please, we need to spread the christmas cheer

-----------------••✩🎅🏻❄️🎄✩••----------------

Snow fell gently outside, the world muffled under its icy embrace. Inside, the twinkling Christmas lights brought a soft glow to your living room, though their warmth still wasn’t enough to melt the cold sensation that had sunken into your chest. You sat on the couch, staring blankly at the three stockings carefully hung on the wall in front of you. Yours, your daughter’s… and Lewis’, dangling limp like a silent reminder of the promise he couldn’t keep.

“Mummy, look!” Your little one spun in her red-and-white pajamas, Roscoe right behind her as he wagged his short tail, matching her excitement in his own special way. Her dark curls bounced as she twirled to the melody of All I Want for Christmas Is You, her joyful giggles a painful contrast to the bitter aching of your heart.

You’d tried your best to be cheerful for her, keeping the holiday spirit alive and pretending like nothing was wrong. Except everything was. This Christmas was supposed to be different: Lewis had given you his word, he’d make it back in time, but when he’d called earlier in the week, his voice apologetic, you’d known the truth before he even said it. A delayed flight, last-minute obligations—it was something you understood, having to constantly balance your everyday life with his tight schedule, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Do you think Daddy remembers it’s Christmas tomorrow?” she asked, her wide eyes so much like his as she snapped you out of your thoughts once again, her hopeful tone tugging at your heart.

She’d been counting down the days with the anticipation only a five-year-old could muster, while you couldn’t even find the courage to tell her Lewis wouldn’t be at home with you in the morning. You didn’t want her to see your disappointment, so you quickly masked it with a strained smile as you picked her up from the floor and put her on your knees.

“Of course, baby,” you reassured her, softly caressing her cheek. “Daddy always remembers the important things.”

The girl beamed, satisfied with your answer, before running off to her room and basically leaping into the bed, her eyes already clenched shut when you reached her to tuck her in—“If I fall asleep now, Christmas comes early and Daddy will be here,” she’d mumbled as she started to drift off.

The lump in your throat was hard to swallow as you leaned down to give her a trembling kiss on the forehead. “Daddy’s always with you,” you whispered, the weight in your chest heavier than before when you settled yourself beside her.

The first thing you heard in the morning was the sound of hurried footsteps rushing over to your daughter’s bed—where you’d ended up sleeping the entire night—followed by a series of excited squeals.

“Mummy, he’s here!” The girl’s high-pitched voice definitively woke you up from your slumber, her words making no sense to you.

You blinked a few times, eyelids fighting to stay open as your more than confused gaze questioned the little one, who was now trying to roll you out of her bed, having already yanked the cover off your slowly freezing body.

“Who’s here, sweetheart?” you managed to ask, slurring your speech.

“Daddy! He’s in the living room!” She was getting more and more impatient, her disheveled hair bouncing around her tiny shoulders as she kept hopping on her toes.

Her words finally clicked in your mind, and you flashed her a bittersweet smile. “Oh, is he now? Did Santa bring him on the sleigh?”

“Yes, come and see!” she insisted, giving you a firm tug on the hand to pull you up.

It was only when Roscoe joined her too, his paws planted on your chest as he started licking you all over your face, that you finally decided to play along.

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, wiping off the dog’s drool from your cheeks as you let your daughter drag you toward the living room. “Let’s see what that little head of yours has come up with this time.”

The words died on your lips as you rounded the corner, your voice trailing off.

There he was.

Lewis stood by the Christmas tree, snow dusting his heavy coat and scarf, the delicate flakes tangled in his locks like a hundred pretty bows. His arms were loaded with presents, which he let fall to the ground as soon as you stepped into the room, his sweet brown eyes immediately finding yours as a heart melting smile spread across his face—and the world around you suddenly felt warm again.

“Surprise,” he said softly, though his tone had a hesitant edge to it.

“I told you he was here!” your little girl kept shrieking, running straight into her dad’s open arms when he kneeled down.

He scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around as her delighted giggles ringed through the air, the sound better than any Christmas song you’d ever heard.

“Hey, princess. Did you miss me?” Lewis asked her, tenderness lacing his voice as she clung closer to his chest.

“Yes, but I knew you were coming back because I asked Santa to bring you home in my Christmas letter.”

You exchanged a glance over her curly head, his sheepish one meeting yours in an unspoken apology. “You said you couldn’t make it,” you then broke the silence, your almost accusing tone filled with emotion.

“I know,” he stepped closer, before reaching out and pulling you into his embrace as well, his forehead rested lightly against yours. “But I wouldn’t have missed Christmas with my girls for anything in the world.”

You couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down your cheek as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, while your daughter, totally clueless, climbed down Lewis’ side and dashed to where he’d left the presents, carefully inspecting the brightly wrapped boxes.

“So,” he whispered in your ear, his breath grazing your skin as he spoke, “am I forgiven now?”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him and gently brushed your fingertips over his dark braids, taking out a little snowflake that still hadn’t melted. “More than forgiven,” you murmured back, yanking him by the hem of his scarf until your lips crashed together.

And, for the first time in a while, everything felt complete again.

-----------------••✩🎅🏻❄️🎄✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 8

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5669 (again, I'm sorry! 🫣)

Warnings: everything a finale might entail.

A/N: It's done! This beast of an ending is finished! I hope you all will like it the way I do! 😃 All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The whole day went well. In fact, the whole of last week had gone pretty well. Dean hadn't known exactly what would happen if Y/N's family came to visit. Her father wasn't much different than before the wedding. But Helena...

He didn't know how he imagined they would meet, but he definitely didn't expect her to immediately seek his company. At first Dean had been unsure how to act. But then he fell back into old behavior patterns quite easily. And the more time he spent with the younger of the two sisters, the more it felt like back then. It took him back to the time when he had courted her.

But this time Helena seemed to be more open towards him, as if she was now more able to get involved with him and that did something to him. There were these moments over and over again, the smallest moments. They came soft and quietly, like a gentle touch, and whispered to him that it could always be like this. Then every time he looked over at Helena as she laughed and looked for him, he remembered what he had originally wanted. She had been the woman he had wanted to marry from the start. And the way it was right now, it could be like this forever.

Even though November was slowly coming to an end and it was noticeably cold, today the sun shone down from a bright blue sky and lit the way for them during their little ride. By now they were on the way back and Dean was telling a story from his childhood. The blonde woman at his side seemed to be listening attentively, eventhough she barely participated in the conversation.

And so a few minutes later he came to the end of his story and they rode on in silence. Even now she still didn't say much about herself. That made Dean a little suspicious, but he already knew that from her.

After they rode over the last hill, his castle came into view again and suddenly his heart felt a little heavy. Y/N’s face appeared in his mind’s eye and he frowned. How different sisters could be. His wife had told him a lot about herself. From the beginning he felt like she shared almost everything with him and secretly he had liked it. And once he had let her in, once he had overcome his anger after she fell sick, he started to like her.

The days they spent together were light and happy. They shared stories and made small memories. Her experience as a leader of the house was surprisingly giving him a big support. After her mother had sadly died, she had to step up and Dean realized at one point that they had a lot in common.

And they started to share the nights together. After they had sex the second time in the morning he got reminded on what he had liked about her the first night. Her scent was still so intoxicating. He had ordered her soap so that she would not run out of it for a while. Her body soft and warm and she still fitted right into his arms, over time he couldn't get enough of her. How confusing this all was. In his mind he had a clear vision, but his heart seemed to want something else.

When they arrived back in front of the castle, Helena's father was already coming towards them. Dean got off his horse, handed it over to Benny, who was already waiting, and then helped Helena dismount. They smiled at each other briefly before the young woman turned to her father.

"Pack your things, daughter. We will leave first thing in the morning."

"Really?" she asked, sounding a bit surprised.

Her father just nodded. Huh. The disappointment at this news didn't spread through Dean as much as he thought it would. Of course he thought it was a shame that she was leaving again, but somehow he had internally expected a stronger reaction on his part.

The second person who came out of the castle towards them was Ellen. With a quick step she stopped in front of Dean and told him what had happened just an hour before and that Y/N had almost been seriously injured. This news, on the other hand, triggered a lot of things in him. Ellen immediately showed him the place where the large stone figure was still lying on the ground. With a searching look, Dean looked up and immediately recognized the spot where the figure had been placed. Weird. Normally the anchor wouldn't just break like that. It was solid craftsmanship.

"Nothing happened to her, luckily." Ellen Dean answered a question he was about to ask. "But she's upstairs now. That... shook her up quite a bit."

Dean could well imagine that. Still, an inner feeling urged him to check on his wife and make sure she was okay. With a curt nod, he turned around and made his way into the inside of the castle when his eyes fell on Helena again, who smiled at him. This caused his steps to slow slightly for a moment before he hurried again.

Mixed feelings accompanied him up the stairs. Dean hadn't expected that seeing Helena again would upset him so much. It was as if he had been reminded of the shame of the false wedding and the woman he actually wanted. A woman who also seemed to be looking for his company. He ignored the small doubt that arose in his mind as to why she hadn't come to the wedding herself.

When he reached the bedroom door, he took a quick breath before opening the door and stepping inside. But as soon as he closed it behind him again, Y/N suddenly ended up in his arms. The slight impact meant that he had to briefly correct his stance. His arms automatically closed around Y/N and the calm that suddenly spread through him grounded him. But he only allowed this feeling for a moment.

He slowly peeled her out of his embrace and put a few steps distance between the two of them. He leaned down a little to look her in the eyes and examined her for a moment.

"Are you okay?" he asked and Y/N nodded her head.

Relief flooded through Dean and he closed his eyes briefly. But then he let go of Y/N and put more steps between the two of them as he ran his hand over his mouth in thought. Y/N was now his wife. The one he didn't actually want and yet she brought out more emotions in him than he would have liked.

"I think that was planned. I mean... something like that doesn't just fall off the wall, does it?" Y/N continued, bringing Dean's attention back to her.

"No, not really. At least it shouldn't." he replied.

"I think that...someone is still targeting me."

"Y/N..."

"Please Dean, just think about it. This... this can't be a coincidence!"

He was about to contradict her, but this time he couldn't. This action seemed strange even to him. But he still couldn't imagine who it could really be and why. So he just said nothing. He couldn't have guessed that he was only fueling Y/N's insecurity.

"Don't you think so?" So Y/N asked again.

"I... I'm not sure." was all he could say.

But he didn't need to say more, because Y/N could already feel the distance that was now spreading between them again. The brief moment in which she had finally felt close to him again, in which he might have believed her without a doubt, was gone and that scared her.

"Why are we drifting apart again, Dean?" So she asked with her heart pounding and received a surprised look from her husband. "What happened to us in the last week?"

Now Dean turned away from her. "It's not that easy, Y/N." and it wasn't.

But another thing became clear to him. He needed to sort out his feelings and he couldn't do that here. Not if he continued to share a room with Y/N. So he grabbed some clothes and his soap. Y/N raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to sleep in a different room tonight. Just for... tonight." Dean then told her.

"What?" Y/N was now starting to panic a little.

"I... need time to think. This is all... kind of confusing."

"You mean your feelings for Helena." she threw back at him and he heard her hurt.

"That too, yes," he admitted. "Look, I'm just trying to be honest here."

"But Dean... we're married now. Shouldn't we... talk about it?"

He couldn't leave her alone now. Again. Not after what had happened today. Shouldn't he be over Helena by now? Otherwise he wouldn't have finally gotten involved with Y/N. Or would he?

"I just need the distance now. Besides, Helena and your father are going home tomorrow morning. So..."

With this news, his behavior made sense, of course. But it still hurt Y/N again.

"Oh, I see. Because you can't bear the thought of her leaving... and then you'll be here alone with me again."

The words had a sharp undertone, but Dean immediately heard between the lines what she meant. "I didn't say that. Y/N..."

"I'm really sorry that it's such a pain to be married to me." she whispered now, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.

"No, it's not like that. But..." he broke off his sentence. He didn't want to see her so hurt, but he also knew that his words wouldn't make it any better.

"But what?" Y/N asked anyway.

"I... I always just wanted to marry Helena. Not you." he still said it now.

And the same old story again. She was the woman nobody wanted. Everyone always just wants Helena. And even though she was the big sister and had to take care of her, she had had enough now. Too much was too much.

"But she never wanted to marry you!" she angrily shouted at him. "The whole time you were courting her, she only put up with it because our father wanted it that way!"

"What?" Dean frowned and looked questioningly at Y/N.

"She never loved you. She didn't even like you. And on the night of the wedding, she ran off with the man she had really loved for years to get married to him instead of you."

"Wait a minute..." so that was the reason why Y/N stepped in for Helena? No, that couldn't be.

"His name is Peter and he worked for my father. She fell for him immediately. And when our father forced the wedding on her, she came to me and begged me to help her. That's why I stepped in for her and married you."

Telling him the whole truth was, surprisingly, a very liberating feeling. It was finally out. Finally he knew the real reason for all this. But she also knew that it would feel different for Dean to know that now.

"That... that can't be." he said to himself, although it sounded pretty logical all in all.

"She never wanted you, Dean." now Y/N's anger had faded and she felt slightly exhausted from the whole day. But she still wasn't quite done. "But... I do."

"That... I..." But Dean didn't seem to have heard her, as lost in thought as he seemed. "I can't do this right now. We... we'll see each other tomorrow."

And with these last words he turned to the door and opened it. He had just stepped into the hallway when Y/N gathered all her courage.

"I love you, Dean!" she called after him, but the door had already slammed shut again, leaving her alone in the room.

"Why can't you see that?"

The next morning, Dean said goodbye to Helena and her father. Sam and Benny stood by his side and all three watched as the carriage slowly drove away. A strange feeling had settled in Dean's stomach. He had been thinking about what Y/N had told him all night and yet he still couldn't quite believe it.

Could he really have been so wrong about Helena? All the conversations they had had, all the time they had spent together, was it really all just a lie? And yet... even if he didn't normally put much faith in his intuition, it told him that this could all be possible.

After he had enough time last night to think about everything, he remembered that he knew this Peter. He had seen him several times when he was visiting them and he had not missed the look he had given Helena. But he didn't get a chance to think about it any further, because suddenly Sam's hand landed on his shoulder.

"So, where is Y/N?" his brother asked. "Didn't she want to say goodby to her family?"

"I don't know." Dean answered. "I haven't seen her this morning."

Sam and Benny exchanged a meaningful look, but Dean didn't notice. He was still too lost in thought.

"Okay." Sam said and turned his brother around who looked at him questioningly now. "I think we need to talk."

Y/N heard the carriage drive away, but didn't want to get up. She had barely slept all night and didn't want to say goodbye to her father and sister. And from the looks of things, they didn't mind either.

After a few more quiet moments, she finally stood up. She put on her dress and made her hair, but she again felt sick to her stomache. Something that has occurred every morning all week. She thought that once her family was gone, she would feel better. But after what happened with Dean, the feeling would probably last a little longer.

Even if she didn't want to, she had to show her face at some point. So she went out into the hallway and immediately ran into Millie, who was about to knock on her door. Her friend was slightly startled, but then seemed relieved when she saw that Y/N was okay.

"They're gone." Millie said.

"I know." Y/N answered.

An understanding silence spread between the two women, because they didn't need to say anything more.

"How about breakfast? You didn't eat anything last night, Y/N."

"I know, but I just can't eat anything at the moment."

"Are you still feeling sick? It's been like this for almost a week now." Millie asked worried.

"Yes, but it's probably just an upset stomach because of the whole situation here. It will definitely pass." she tried to calm her friend down and it seemed to work.

"Okay, but let me get you at least a cup of tea, okay?"

"Yes, please." Y/N smiled. "Go ahead. I'll be right there."

Millie nodded, smiling as well, and made her way back downstairs. As soon as her friend disappeared from her field of vision, Y/N took a quick breath and gathered her nerves before she too wanted to set off.

"Y/N?" she heard a familiar voice behind her. When she turned around, she realized that it was Alex.

"Alex, hey." She said friendly.

"Is Dean with you?" he asked and looked around.

"No, he is not." she actually did not want to think about him before she stood infront of him, but something in Alex's voice seemed off. "Why? Did something happen?"

"Sam and I were just up on the tower and we found something. We wanted to show him."

Now her interest was aroused and she took a few steps towards Alex. "What exactly did you find?"

"From the looks of things, the figure did not fall down on its own, but someone helped it." explained Alex.

This surprised Y/N, but in the end this statement only confirmed her own suspicions. So someone was after her after all. She had to see it with her own eyes.

"I knew it! I would also like to see it and talk to Sam about it."

"Oh, yeah. Sure!" Alex nodded obviously slightly taken aback. "I'll take you up to Sam and then I'll find Dean. That's no problem."

"Then let's go!" said Y/N and Alex cleared the way for her to go ahead.

He pointed her in the direction and waited until she had passed him so that he could walk behind her and Y/N couldn't see the large kitchen knife that was in the back of his belt.

With a whiskey in hand, Dean, Sam and Benny sat in front of the fireplace in the dining hall. Dean was still kinda confused on what Sam was on about, but he welcomed the amber liquid anyways. Sam turned around to see if they were alone in the room, before he started to talk.

"Okay, Dean. What is wrong with you?" he asked quite bluntly.

"What?"

"You seemed so happy in the last month with Y/N. And then her family comes to visit and you change that suddenly."

"It's not that easy, Sam." Dean grumbled and put his glass down in the ground infront of him.

"Yeah, no. I get it. You wanted to marry Helena. I know. But you ended up with Y/N and the two of you seemed to match really well."

"She's one of a kind, brother." Benny agreed with Sam.

"Yeah, yeah, but I catched feelings for Helena!" Dean exclaimed. "That nobody wants to understand this!"

"So that's the reason why you treat Y/N so badly?" Sam asked straight forward.

"I... I treat her badly? Are you serious?" Now Dean got angry.

"You ignored her and just did not care about her. You focused solely on Helena." Benny explained.

"We... we were reconnecting." Now Dean stood up again. "I don't even know why I have to explain myself to you."

"I'm only asking you because I want to understand what's wrong with you, Dean." Sam also stood up now. "Because the Dean I know would never treat a woman like that."

Dean huffed. "I brought Y/N here with me, didn't I? She's here now and I didn't break the deal with her father. So don't tell me I'm treating her badly."

"She has feelings for you, Dean," Sam replied.

"Oh, what nonsense." Dean waved it off and half turned his back on the two men. But the memory of how he had imagined last night that Y/N had called after him that she loved him came right back to him.

"Anyone can see that." Now Benny stood up too.

"But I have much more in common with Helena than with Y/N."

"Really? Like what?" Sam challenged.

"Sam, c'mon."

"No, Dean. I would really love to hear that."

"Well..." Dean gave in. "First of all, the thing about children. I definitely want to have children, in the near future, and Helena wants that too."

"No, brother." Benny now intervened. "That was Y/N. Y/N said that, not Helena. We were all standing at the stables and watching the horses. That was... on the first or second day after they arrived."

Now Dean frowned slightly and thought about it. But it didn't take long for Dean to remember. "Oh. Yes. Okay, you're right, Benny. But... that's not the only thing."

"And what else do you have in common?"

And then Dean started to list. He remembered all the conversations he had had with Helena and the points in which they were so similar. Whether it was about the future of his business, protecting his clan against the redcoats. A possible future in America or their favorite pie.

"And for our honeymoon we wanted to travel across the sea to France. So that Helena could see the stars on the high seas at night," he almost enthused.

"But Dean..." now Sam looked confused. "Everything you just said, every single point, was not said by Helena, but by Y/N."

"No, no, no." Dean shook his head in disbelief. "It was Helena."

"No, it was not! Helena only wants to travel in the near future. She wants to enjoy life and spent a lot of money... basically." Summarized Sam Helena's words in his own way. "She never said anything else."

"You're wrong, Sam."

"No, I am not! I was there too when you talked about these things!"

But Dean didn't want to believe it. He folded his arms in front of his chest and shook his head. None of this was true. He couldn't be so wrong, he hadn't imagined it. Helena had said that, not Y/N.

But Sam didn't want to give up so quickly. "Did you hear that she ran away on the night of the wedding to marry another man?"

"How...?" Dean's eyes widened in surprise.

"Millie heard Helena tell Y/N. Unfortunately, the guy was already married. He even has a son!"

Y/N hadn't told him that last night. Dean let his arms fall again. Something wasn't right here.

"And something else..." now Sam came up to Dean and looked him straight in the eyes. "The thing about seeing stars on the open sea... that was Y/N's wish. Because her mum..."

"...had told her about it so often when she was little." Dean finished the sentence in a whisper and looked at Sam in surprise.

And suddenly everything was there again. The memories, of the conversations. The real memories. Dean saw them one after the other in his mind's eye and he had to sit down. He had heard every word Y/N had ever said. No matter when it was, no matter how often he had visited, she was always there. And something else was there again too.

His memories of the first meeting with Y/N. Her warm gaze and friendly smile. Her shimmering eyes that made his heart beat a little faster. How could he have forgotten that? How could Helena have blinded him that much? It was Y/N. From the beginning, it had always been just Y/N.

When Y/N got to the top of the tower, it didn't take her long to realize that Sam wasn't there. Alex had already closed the door behind her and she turned to him questioningly. She was about to ask him where Sam was, but the look on Alex's face made her stop.

"You're really making it too easy." Alex said and then carefully pulled out the knife.

Y/N's eyes widened in shock and she took a few steps back. She raised her hands defensively.

"What... what are you doing, Alex?" but the young man wasn't listening to her.

"I was actually hoping that my little gift would make you run away, but somehow it didn't work. On the contrary, it brought you and Dean even closer together."

What? Y/N couldn't believe her ears. Alex. It was Alex who was behind all this. That couldn't be true.

"Although..." he pointed at her with the knife and took a few steps back and forth. "At first, things didn't look so bad for me when you were lying in the stable in the cold. I didn't tell anyone that I saw you there because I thought you would freeze to death that night anyway. Then I wouldn't have had to get my hands dirty."

Y/N still remembered that. She had seen Alex walking through the stable when she was hiding there from Dean and had been relieved that Alex hadn't seen her. How foolish of her.

"But then Benny had to find you the next morning. He was in the stable before me, even though I was awake so early. That annoyed me even more because I couldn't be sure that you had actually died already."

The coldness with which Alex spoke made Y/N freeze. She had gotten to know the young man as so friendly and nice that she couldn't imagine that he actually had such an evil side to him. That he was actually capable of something like murder, but apparently she hadn't known him well enough. Because he had cleverly hidden this side from her. And he had kept this side secret not only from her, but also from everyone else.

"So I had to think of something else. But you know what? It wasn't easy because suddenly Dean wouldn't let you out of his sight. You were terribly stuck together."

Y/N carefully looked over her shoulder, but she couldn't see anyone in front of the castle. What should she do now? She had to stay calm and hope that Alex made a mistake. Calling for help was not an option. That might cause Alex to react frantically and she would put herself in danger.

"So I had to wait for a suitable opportunity again. Unfortunately, it seemed to take longer than I thought. After a month, I already felt like I had to come up with something more drastic. Separate you somehow or something. But then your family came to visit and luck was on my side again."

"The statue..." Y/N realized.

"Exactly!" Alex smiled, but not for long. "It took forever to cut the damn thing off without anyone noticing. And when you were finally in the right place, I dropped it. But of course Ellen, our head mom, had to notice and save you."

The contempt with which he uttered the last sentence was written all over his face. He came another step closer and Y/N's heart began to race in her chest. She kept her eyes on the knife.

"So I had to get creative again and look where we are now, just one day later."

"You... you don't have to do this." she stuttered, still keeping her eyes on Alex.

"Aahh, see? You're wrong there." Alex shifted his stance slightly to the side. "That's all I have to do."

And then he leapt forward and swung the knife.

"Dean! Sam!" Millie shouted as she came running into the dining hall.

Sam was up on his feet first. "Millie? What's wrong?"

"It's Alex! The one who is after Y/N! It's Alex!" She came to a halt right infront of Sam.

"What?" All three men said, but not just them.

Ellen stood in the doorway with two other maids and Cassie behind them. All women looked shocked and for a second nobody said a word. But then Sam came back to his sense.

"Wait, how do you know?" He asked.

"I was just upstairs looking for Y/N. She's not feeling well in the last days and I met her in the hallway. We talked and then I went ahead to go down first. But just when I rounded the corner, I heared Alex's voice and I stopped in my tracks." Now she was looking at Sam. "He had said to her that he just had been up on the tower with you."

Dean didn't need to hear anything more. With a determined look on his face, he jumped up and immediately made his way upstairs. Sam and Benny also started running when Millie called for Sam again.

"He had a big kitchen knife with him!"

Now Sam's expression darkened. He turned around once more to take a loaded shotgun from the cupboard next to the stairs and then continued upstairs.

At the last second, Y/N managed to dodge it with a jump, but that brought her to the edge of the tower wall. Alex, on the other hand, almost fell to the ground, but was just able to catch himself. But now pure anger was visible on his face.

"Why are you doing this?" Y/N asked and got back on her feet.

Now Alex looked at her a little astonished. "You really still don't know that?"

Y/N kept her back to the wall and Alex came to a stop just a few steps away from her. The door was now behind him again. The woman infront of him only shook her head no.

Alex huffed. "Well, for Cassie, of course!" he said, looking like it was the most logical answer in the world.

What he didn't notice was the door behind him opening quietly and carefully. Y/N, however, saw it all too well and hoped he wouldn't notice.

"So... did she put you up to it?"

"What? No! Oh god, no. She has no idea about it."

Now the barrel of a gun was visible and then Y/N saw two green eyes directed at her. She would recognize these eyes anywhere and her heart leapt with hope. Still, she had to tear her gaze away from the door and force herself not to look there anymore.

"But I... thought you would love her?"

"I do! That's why I'm doing this!" Alex exclaimed.

"That... does not make sense... don't you think?" tried Y/N to distract him.

"Of course it does!" But when Alex looked at her face he realized that she really didn't understand what he meant and so he started to explain it to her.

"I love Cassie and I want her to be happy. Unfortunately, she doesn't love me, which I can't change. But she loves Dean and she said herself that she can only be happy with him."

Okay, that wasn't anything new for Y/N, but somehow she had a bad feeling about what he was getting at.

"But as long as you're here, she won't be able to be happy with Dean and that's why I have to kill you. So that Cassie can finally take this chance and be happy."

Meanwhile, Dean had stepped through the door and had the shotgun aimed at Alex's head. Behind him, Y/N noticed that Sam and Benny were also there and seemed to be getting ready.

"But if you kill me, Dean will marry Helena. Because that's who he originally wanted to marry, not me."

Now Alex thought for a moment, but quickly recovered. "If it really comes to that, I'll think of something. But now shut up and let me finally kill you!"

The young man was just about to jump forward again when he heard Dean's voice behind him.

"I'd think about that again, son of a bitch!"

Alex looked back in shock, but didn't even have time to take another step. The shot from the gun could be heard across the entire castle. It hit Alex right between the eyes, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps and then fall over the tower wall.

Dean didn't waste another second, dropped the gun to the ground and ran straight to Y/N. He took her face in his hands and saw tears forming in her eyes.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, he did not hurt me. I'm fine, Dean."

But then Y/N broke down. She began to sob wildly, letting her tears flow freely and clinging to Dean. He immediately took her in his arms and held her tightly while giving her a kiss on her hairline.

"It's over." Dean reassured her. "It's finally all over."

It took a little longer until everyone was back down from the tower. Especially since Y/N didn't want to let go of Dean. He took her down to the kitchen, where Ellen had already prepared a hot cup of tea for her. He slowly released her from his arms so she could sit on a chair. Y/N had calmed down a bit, but her tears hadn't all dried up yet. Ellen touched her lightly on the shoulder and pushed the cup a little closer to her.

"Drink this. It calms the nerves." which in turn meant that Ellen had put a sip of whiskey in the tea. "I'll leave you alone then." and with a gentle smile she disappeared.

"Dean..." Y/N begann, but she did not come very far.

"I'm sorry!" He blurted out. "I'm sorry about everything!"

Y/N had expected everything, but not that. And so she stayed quiet for a moment because she didn't know what to answer or how to react. But she didn't have to wait long for an explanation, because Dean looked at her determinedly and continued.

"I should have believed you. All of this... is so damned my fault. It's only because of me that you got into this situation." He ran his hand through his hair. "Just because I was such an idiot..."

"Dean..." she tried again, but even on the second attempt she didn't get very far.

"I love you." now Y/N was stunned and her eyes widened in utter surprise. "I love you since the first time I Iaid eyes on you."

Again, Y/N felt emotions rising within her and she looked closely at Dean. But she could see nothing but honesty and sincerity in his eyes and so she just let him continue talking.

"But I was just too blind to see it. It took me so long to really see it and so much had to happen for me to finally see it clearly. Sam and Benny also had to talk to me so that I could see my mistakes. But now I know, I know for sure."

Y/N was holding her breath, the tea long forgotten.

"When I look at you, I see the future and I guess I always have. I think I was just too cowardly to admit it to myself. But now I never want to give it up again. I want to spend my life with you, until the end of our days."

And Dean was completely serious. Deep down he knew that was exactly what he was feeling. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve, but the longer Y/N remained silent, the more he became afraid that it might already be too late. But then his wife started sobbing again before she spoke.

"I would be careful with what you say because if you really mean it... then I swear you will never get rid of me." and then she smiled at Dean, while relief and happiness flooded through him at these words.

"I couldn't imagine anything better."

A/N: Aaaand we're done! I'm happy and sad at the same time. 🥹🥹🥹 But I was thinking... since we had so many up's and down's, who would want an epiloge? 🫣 Feedback is very much appreciated! 💜

@chriszgirl92 @elenasalvatore1 @laurensfangirlingsideblog @moonxlightsworld @muhahaha303

@stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78  @allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover @ninii-winchester @itsdesiree86

@foxyjwls007 @jtink27 @tommysaxes @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @aylacavebear

@suckitands33 @pillowjj @hobby27 @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @winchesterwild78

@nikimisery @acid-spiderr @deangirl96 @lyarr24 @k-slla

@iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @stanzie  @mochminnie @ettadear @globetrotter28

@leila22rogers @whimsyfinny @a-girl-who-loves-disney @goest-and-fuckest-thyself

@zepskies @star-girl-05 @tmb510 @louisianalady @deansimpalababy

@livsh20 @livya99 @whichwitchwanda @sydneyabcd @emotionsmgcbabe @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me

@deans-spinster-witch @strepsils123 @7leb-kakaw  @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff

@thebiggerbear

[yourlocaljonghoe]

Familiar Stranger. || Kim Hongjoong.

Summary: you and hongjoong have known each other for over 20 years now. growing up side by side, graduating, marrying and having your own family was tough, but kim hongjoong had always been a constant in your life. now, in your late 30s, you suddenly find yourself divorced, and hongjoong’s wife just left him as well. your children are devastated, and for the sake of keeping them occupied, you try to urge them to spend much time with each other on a holiday trip. but what happens if things change? what happens if suddenly, you develop feelings for a man you considered nothing but a friend your whole life?

Pairing: kim hongjoong x reader

Genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst if you squint, smut (mdni)

Wordcount: 24.2k

Warnings: both reader and hj are in their late 30s, minseo & yena are around 14 and hanbin around 9, chubby!reader (though it isnt really mentioned until the smut part) mentions of emotional partner abuse and cheating, child neglect (kinda?) body insecurities, body worship, fingering, sex toys, use of pet names, oral (m. & f. receiving) if I missed smth pls lmk!

A/N: i am not happy with this fic (i even cried a little tbh i spent so much time on it and unfortunately just really really dislike it now) and towards the end, it gets pretty rushed and i want to apologize for that, i just got really frustrated. its also not proof read which will probably be very visible rip. now onto the important part tho: hello @owlbeforesunset, i was your secret santa for @cromernet! i really hope you like this even if its super messy sksksksk and im wishing you the best christmas ever!! may you and your loved ones be happy and healthy forever <33 as always divider credits to @firefly-graphics! Edit: since im dumb i forgot to add the playlist i made specifically for this fic. its the first time i made smth like this so i hope you all enjoy <33

Taglist: @ghstzzn, @kyukyustar, @hwapetals, @foxinnie8, @preciouswoozi, @aussiekpopginger, @kitten4sannie, @hanjisungs-bigtittyg0thgf

Available here on AO3.

April, 2003.

Heavy rain pelted against the windows. It was loud and distracting, but you tried your best to focus on the task at hand: getting dressed in your sexiest outfit ever.

God, how excited you were. Your first ever party!

You grabbed the black tank top from the pile on your bed, biting your lip as you held it up. It was cropped, barely grazing your waist, and you'd never actually worn it out. But tonight was different. You wanted to stand out, feel a little bolder today. You slipped it over your head, adjusting the straps until it sat just right, revealing just enough to feel sexy but still comfortable.

Next, you reached for your favorite skirt - a dark denim piece that you usually reserved for special occasions. It hit mid-thigh, shorter than anything you usually wore. You turned left and right in front of the mirror, checking the whole look with a grin, feeling that sweet buzz of excitement stir within you.

Today, you were feeling rebellious, and you thanked the heavens that your parents weren't home to see that side of you.

After a quick swipe of lip gloss and a final tousle of your hair, you stepped back to take in the full outfit. This was new, a little edgy, but it was exactly how you wanted to show up tonight.

And then, you heard a car honk outside.

Three times, to be exact. 

It told you that Hongjoong had arrived to pick you up.

You grabbed your coat and dashed outside, leaping from the front porch to avoid the small puddles pooling on the driveway. The cold rain splattered down, but it did nothing to cool down the rush of excitement as you ran towards Hongjoong's car.

As soon as you reached it, he leaned over to unlock the door, his eyes widening as he noticed you through the rain. You quickly pulled the door open and slid into the passenger seat, the warm interior pulling a happy sigh from your lips. Without thinking, you then stood up halfway in the seat, turning to give him a full view of your outfit. You did a quick spin, showing off the crop top and skirt, a big, proud smile practically glued to your face.

“Well?” You laughed, tilting your head at him.

He blinked, visibly taken aback, and then grinned in that lopsided, mischievous way of his. “Damn, look at you!” he said, dragging his gaze over you with obvious approval in his eyes. “That’s exactly the look. You look perfect! He will definitely notice you now!”

“And she will definitely notice you too!”

She was the girl who had captured his attention since the first day of school. And as much as you wanted to tease him about that hopeless crush of his, you found yourself rooting for him. He really liked her, and it was kind of cute to see your best friend so head over heels in love. “You’re going to knock her off her feet, Hongjoong. Look at you!”

Kim Hongjoong looked as stunning and unique as always. Tonight, he'd gone for an avant-garde vibe, somehow mixing and layering pieces that should've clashed but just… worked. He wore a dark, oversized blazer with bold white stitching tracing down its seams, a design you knew he’d likely stitched himself. Underneath, he wore a fitted, high-neck black shirt that hugged his frame, and chains draped across his chest in varying lengths. The pants he wore were his own design as well - fitted and flared at the bottom, with artful rips along the thighs revealing hints of his skinny, toned legs beneath. He’d accessorized with rings on nearly every finger, a thick cuff around his wrist, and one of his trademark berets, tilted slightly to the side.

And then, his favorite touch: eyeliner, just enough to make his eyes dark and intense, while still looking like the nice and approachable boy you knew him as.

All in all: your best friend looked as stunning as always.

You couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in your stomach as you caught his gaze lingering on you as well. Outside, the rain was steady, streaking the windows as the car drove through the streets.

“So, what’s your plan tonight?” he asked. “Besides making him notice you, of course.”

“Maybe dance. Maybe get him in my bed,” you said with a smirk, earning an exaggerated grimace from Hongjoong.

“Ugh. Spare me the details.”

You both laughed, and you elbowed him playfully as he drove through the streets.

The drive stretched on, the rain creating a soothing pitter-patter against the windows. The streetlights you passed were illuminating Hongjoong’s sharp features perfectly as you looked at him. You couldn’t help but watch him for a moment, appreciating the pretty man your best friend had become over the years.

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “what about you? Big plans tonight?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his lips twitching into a soft smile. “You know, if she shows up.”

“Oh, she’ll be there,” you teased, poking his arm. “She's at every party. Plus you’ve been talking about her all week. She’d be insane not to notice you tonight.”

He glanced at you briefly, his smile turning a bit shy. “I hope so. But hey, even if she doesn’t… tonight’s about having fun. About us, okay? Let's just try and have a good time anyways.”

“Agreed,” you said, leaning back in your seat. “Let’s make this the best night ever.”

He nodded, his grin widening. “Deal.”

He pulled up to the venue after another few minutes. As you both stepped out into the rain, the cold droplets hit your heated skin as you raced to the entrance, and you laughed as you arrived first. 

Once you opened the heavy door together, the atmosphere inside immediately enveloped fully. The sound of music echoed through the air, and the whole crowd pulsed with energy. You spotted familiar faces, friends and acquaintances already dancing and chatting, and your heart raced with excitement. This was it.

“Okay,” Hongjoong said, leaning in closer so you could hear him over the music. “Let’s try not to get separated. Want a drink?”

“Sure,” you replied. You could barely hear your own voice over the thumping bass of the music. You tugged at his sleeve to pull him toward the makeshift bar set up in the corner of the room. A string of colorful lights hung over your heads, casting shifting hues of red and blue across the room and its people. The whole place smelled of sweat, too much perfume, and a faint trace of spilled beer and vomit.

Hongjoong weaved through the crowd effortlessly, his small frame slipping between clusters of people like a ghost. You followed closely, clutching your purse harder to avoid hitting any strangers.

When you finally reached the bar, Hongjoong leaned in close to your ear again. “What’s your poison of choice tonight? Beer? Something stronger?”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your chin theatrically. “Surprise me,” you said, flashing him a grin.

His brows arched playfully, and he turned to flag down the guy working the bar - a classmate you vaguely recognized but didn’t know well. After a brief exchange, Hongjoong handed you a plastic cup filled with something neon pink and fizzy.

“Taste test,” he prompted, watching your reaction closely as you took a cautious sip.

The drink was sweet, with just enough of a bite to remind you it was still alcoholic. You licked your lips, nodding in approval. “Not bad. What is it?”

He smirked. “No idea. Just told him to make it fun.”

You laughed, raising the cup in a mock toast. “To fun, then.”

“To fun,” he echoed, clinking his own drink against yours before taking a big sip.

The two of you leaned back against the bar, scanning the room and taking it all in. It was packed, the dance floor a mass of sweaty bodies against bodies illuminated by the cheap neon light. You spotted a few more familiar faces but didn’t immediately see the person you were hoping to impress tonight.

“See him yet?” Hongjoong asked, his gaze flicking toward you.

You shook your head, feeling slightly disappointed. “Not yet. You?”

He scanned the room again, his eyes lingering near a group of girls huddled together by the DJ booth. When he looked back at you, his grin was wide and genuine. “She’s here.”

Your brows shot up. “Where?”

He gestured subtly with his chin, and you followed his gaze. Sure enough, there she was - wearing a sleek black dress that clung to her in all the right ways, her head thrown back in laughter as she chatted with her friends.

“She looks amazing,” you said honestly, nudging him. “Go talk to her.”

Hongjoong hesitated, biting his lip. “Not yet. Need a little more liquid courage first.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another sip of your drink. “Fine, but don’t chicken out, okay? Tonight’s your night.”

“And yours,” he reminded you, bumping your shoulder lightly.

“Damn right,” you said, your confidence starting to show by the alcohol starting to settle warmly in your veins.

The music shifted then. Instead of the slow song that played when you two got here, it now switched to a faster pop-song that made the room errupt in cheers. Hongjoong turned to you, his eyes sparkling.

“Dance floor?” he asked.

“Hell yes,” you replied without hesitation, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the mass of people.

The moment you stepped onto the dance floor, the music seemed to consume you entirely. You let yourself sway to the beat, your earlier nerves melting away completely. Hongjoong danced beside you, his movements fluid as always. At least one of you could dance. Unfortunately, it definitely wasn't you.

At some point, you caught sight of him watching you. He stood near the edge of the crowd, a solo cup in one hand, his eyes fixed squarely on you.

Your heart skipped a beat. “Joong,” you hissed, tugging on his sleeve. “He’s looking at me!”

Hongjoong followed your gaze, a grin splitting across his face. “Told you he wouldn’t be able to resist. Go say hi!”

“I can’t just walk up to him,” you said, your voice a little panicked.

“Yes, you can. Trust me, you look amazing. He’s already hooked.”

You hesitated, your feet rooted in place despite the music urging you to move.

Hongjoong gave you a gentle shove in his direction. “Go! I’ll be here if you need a rescue mission.”

Shooting your best friend one last look, you smoothed down your skirt, drew in a steadying breath, and walked toward him, heart pounding with each step. His dark eyes locked onto yours almost immediately, a lazy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he tipped his cup slightly in acknowledgment.

“Hey,” you greeted, trying to sound casual despite the adrenaline rushing through you.

“Hey yourself,” he replied smoothly. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His name was Jang Hyunwoo, a senior just a year above you and Hongjoong. Known for his devastating good looks, he was every girl's dream and you were not immune to him. At all. In fact, the first time you saw him, it felt like the world narrowed to just… him. 

You still remembered it. 

He was leaning against the chain-link fence outside school, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers, dark eyes unreadable beneath heavy lashes. He’d glanced up, meeting your gaze with a look so piercing it made your heart skip a beat or two.

“Got a light?” he’d asked, voice low and lazy.

You didn’t even smoke, but you found yourself fumbling for a lighter borrowed from a friend. His fingers brushed yours as he took it, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken.

From that moment, you were hooked. He was magnetic in a way that felt dangerous - intense and so, so unreachable. But when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing that mattered… it was impossible not to fall. 

From that day on, Jung Hyunwoo became your addiction. 

And right now, his tall frame leaned against the wall with an effortless confidence, a single silver chain glinting against the black of his fitted shirt. He radiated that dangerous allure you just couldn’t seem to resist.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Thought I’d check it out.”

His eyes traced over you slowly, appreciatively. “You definitely made the right call.”

Your cheeks heated, but before you could respond, you noticed someone approaching Hongjoong out of the corner of your eye. She practically slithered up to him, wrapping an arm possessively around his waist.

Kang Minji.

She was stunning, really, with long, glossy hair and an effortless sense of style that made her look straight out of a magazine. But there was something else you noticed about here. Something in the sharpness of her gaze, the way her perfectly manicured nails dug into Hongjoong’s side just a little too firmly, sent a chill down your spine. And you did not even understand why.

“Joongie,” she cooed, tilting her head in mock surprise. “Didn’t think you’d make it tonight.”

Hongjoong’s smile faltered for the briefest moment before he recovered, offering her a charming, yet shy grin. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

You watched as Minji’s eyes flicked to you, quickly looking you up and down, before returning to Hongjoong as though you weren’t even there. Something about the possessiveness in her expression made you immediately feel uneasy.

You thought about saying something to Hongjoong, about warning him - there was something weird about her, about the way her smile never quite reached her eyes when she looked at him. But just as quickly as the thought surfaced, you shoved it down. After all, your own situation wasn’t exactly better, was it?

Hyunwoo’s fingers pressed firmly into your waist, his touch feeling equal parts thrilling and dangerous. His gaze held yours with that familiar intensity, sharp and consuming, leaving no room for second-guessing.

Who were you to judge Hongjoong when you were just as caught up in someone toxic you couldn’t seem to quit?

So, you said nothing. You let the thought dissolve, swallowed by the pounding bass and the heat of Hyunwoo’s hand still holding you close.

“So, you two know each other?” Hyunwoo’s voice drew your attention back to him.

“Yeah, Joong’s my best friend,” you explained, smiling despite the tension forming between you four. “We came together.”

Hyunwoo’s smirk widened, and his grip around you tightened. “Interesting.”

Before you could decipher his meaning, Minji’s laugh rang out, sharp and so… wrong. “Best friend, huh? That’s cute.”

Her words felt like a subtle warning, though you couldn’t quite place why. Hongjoong’s expression shifted, discomfort flashing in his dark eyes, but he said nothing.

“Dance with me,” Hyunwoo suggested, pulling your focus back. His gaze was intense, daring you to say no.

You hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Okay.”

The music was so loud as Hyunwoo pulled you onto the dance floor. His grip on your waist was firm, guiding you effortlessly through all the sweaty bodies. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his intense gaze never leaving yours as the world blurred into a haze of flashing lights and unrecognizable sounds.

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You okay?” he asked, voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, breath hitching as his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your waist. His touch burned through the thin fabric of your shirt, making your skin tingle with anticipation. He smelled like spice and something else equally addictive - the perfect blend of danger and temptation.

Before you could process what was happening, his lips crashed against yours, hard and demanding. His hand tangled in your hair while the other stayed on your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You gasped into the kiss, overwhelmed but unable to stop yourself from further melting into him.

The intensity of it all left you breathless. He dominated you so effortlessly, pressing hard into every movement, every touch. You barely registered the crowd around you anymore, the dance floor fading into the background as you clung to him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. His lips were warm and insistent, tasting faintly of the drink he’d been having earlier.

For a quick second, a flicker of anxiety flooded your chest, but before you could pull away, your gaze drifted past Hyunwoo’s shoulder - and froze.

There, against the far wall, you saw Hongjoong. His back was pressed against the worn brick, his hands tangled possessively in Minji’s hair as she kissed him hard and without any mercy. Her body was pressed against his, leaving no room for air between them. His eyes were closed, completely lost in the heat of the moment.

Something inside you twisted sharply, equal parts jealousy and defiance. If Hongjoong could do it, lose himself like that… why couldn’t you?

Your fingers tightened around Hyunwoo’s shirt as you surged forward in a sudden boost of confidence, matching his intensity with a newfound determination that even surprised yourself. If this was how the night was going to go, then you wouldn’t hold back. Not anymore.

Hyunwoo groaned against your lips, clearly pleased by your sudden boldness. His hands roamed freely now, sliding down your back to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard press of his body against yours, his need unmistakable and intoxicating.

Your nails raked down his chest, earning a hiss of approval from him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your knees tremble. His control was absolute, his touch possessive, as though staking a claim that he had no intention of releasing.

And for now, you let him. You surrendered to it all, the reckless, thrilling haze, pushing down every lingering thought of Hongjoong and Minji. Tonight, you’d let yourself go - consequences be damned.

“Wanna go upstairs?”

“H-huh?”

You didn’t even notice you had moved, too consumed by his mouth and hands everywhere, but as you opened your eyes again, he was standing at the bottom of a dimly lit staircase, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something you couldn’t quite name. “Come on,” he coaxed, voice low and hoarse. “It’s too loud out here.”

The way he said it sounded reasonable, almost thoughtful - because he was right, it was way, way too loud in here - but the way his hand lingered on your waist told a different story. His touch was too sure, too expectant as if a no from you wasn't even a question. 

Your gaze darted around the room, searching for any sign of Hongjoong. He’d always been your anchor in situations like this - your safe space. But he was nowhere in sight. Your stomach twisted as you recalled the way Minji had pulled him into the shadows, her grip just as firm as Hyunwoo’s was now.

He’s fine, you told yourself. He wanted this. He chose this.

So why did you suddenly feel so… alone?

“I- maybe we should stay down here,” you suggested hesitantly, voice trembling despite your attempt to sound casual. “We could… get another drink?”

Hyunwoo’s expression darkened ever so slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing through his gaze before he smoothed it over with a practiced smile. “You nervous?” he asked, stepping closer until your back pressed against the wall. His voice was soft now, almost tender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, baby.”

The pet name sent an involuntary shiver down your spine - not from endearment, but from the way it felt like a trap snapping shut around you. And you, like the prey you were, stepped right into it.

His fingers brushed along your jaw, tilting your face up so you couldn’t look away. “You trust me, don’t you?”

Did you? You weren’t sure anymore.

His thumb traced slow circles against your cheek, deceptively gentle. “We’ve been dancing around this for months… You know you want this too.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming wildly beneath his touch. He was too close, his presence overwhelming, suffocating - but intoxicating in the worst way. Every instinct told you to push him away, to leave - but then you thought about Hongjoong, likely wrapped up in Minji somewhere upstairs, completely consumed by her.

Hyunwoo’s lips brushed against your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Just you and me,” he whispered, his voice a dangerous promise. “No one else matters tonight.”

And then, you finally gave in. He quickly grabbed you and searched for an empty room upstairs, and as the door clicked shut behind you, sealing you inside the dim, quiet room, you couldn’t shake the haunting certainty that neither you nor Hongjoong would leave this night the same - both now bound to people who would ruin you in ways you were only beginning to understand years later.

August, 2024.

It was late when your shift finally ended.

You walked into the house, the door giving squeaking like always as you stepped inside. Silence was all you were greeted with when you closed the front door behind you. You kicked off your shoes by the door and set your bag down on the counter, your gaze lingering on the empty kitchen. It had been a while since you truly noticed the quiet - or since you were involuntarily forced to.

It was late, and you were tired; it was the kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones after a long day of work, and the weight of your thoughts felt even heavier now that you were home.

You hadn’t expected to feel this way even after the divorce, but the ache was still there, lingering. For the longest time, you'd convinced yourself it was all manageable - that it would get better, that you could make it work.

But now, standing in the middle of the house that once held the warmth and laughter of a family, you couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

Your marriage to Hyunwoo had been tiring and oh so toxic, and it all actually started the day you two had met. It was easy to look back now and see the signs - the subtle ways he began to change over the years, the evergrowing distance between you two. He’d started out so passionate about you and your whole relationship. But after the children came, or maybe even before, things shifted. His kindness faded into passive aggression, and then to blatant cruelty in the smallest, quietest ways.

At first, you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. After all, there were still moments that felt like the old him - the laughter over dinner, the rare but sweet gestures. But those moments became fewer and fewer, and the weight of his silence began to feel heavier than anything else.

You had learned to shut down, to bite your tongue, to keep the peace - all for the sake of your children. You didn’t want them to see the cracks. You didn’t want them to know that the man you married, the man they adored, was also the one who’d made you feel small, insignificant, and alone in your own home.

You’d stayed for them - for Minseo and Hanbin - hoping, wishing, that somehow you could protect them from it all.

It had been easier to stay. Easier to pretend that things were fine. But somewhere along the way, you stopped lying to yourself. The emotional abuse had become too much to ignore.

You had loved him once. So deeply that the idea of leaving him seemed impossible, even when your soul and entire being felt suffocated by his cruelty. But one day, you woke up to the reality that you couldn’t keep living like that - not for yourself, not for your children.

The divorce had been your only choice, even if it felt like it would destroy everything you had built.

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning against the counter, remembering those last weeks of you and Hyunwoo together - how every conversation felt like a battle, how every attempt at talking about it was met with denial, with anger.

And now, here you were. No more pretending. No more covering up. You had taken that step, for yourself and for your children, even if they couldn’t understand it yet.

A sigh escaped you as you shook your head, trying to push the thoughts away. You had a family to focus on, children who needed you.

But sometimes, even now, the silence of this house felt like a heavy reminder of everything you had lost - and everything you still had to rebuild very slowly and carefully.

“Where have you been?” 

You stood in the doorway, the exhaustion from the long shift still weighing you down as you noticed Minseo’s presence in the living room. Her face was half-lit by the soft glow of her phone screen. She didn’t even look up when you entered.

“Hey, sorry sweetie,” you said, trying to sound as normal as possible, trying to hide how tired you were. “A coworker got sick, and I had to take over her shift.”

Minseo didn’t respond immediately, her eyes glued to the phone, her thumb scrolling lazily across the screen. The silence between you stretched out uncomfortably.

You waited, half-expecting some kind of acknowledgment, but she remained absorbed in her own world. The way she looked at you - or rather, didn’t look at you - felt like a sharp reminder of how far apart the two of you were drifting.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do. Normally, she would’ve greeted you with at least a half-hearted "Hi" or some sort of remark, but today, there was nothing. Just the quiet thrum of the phone as she typed.

You forced a smile, trying to bridge the gap. “How was your day?”

Nothing. Minseo didn’t even acknowledge you. Her eyes stayed on her phone, lips pressed into a thin line. The absence of the usual warmth in her voice made the silence so much louder, and it hit you harder than anything else. She wasn’t just quiet tonight. She was actively shutting you out.

You cleared your throat softly, trying again. “Did you have dinner yet?”

“Mm-hmm,” Minseo murmured, not bothering to look up. Her response was clipped, as though she was only offering the bare minimum of interaction required. You could feel the coldness seeping into the space between you.

You stood there, your hands hanging awkwardly by your sides, unsure how to proceed. The room felt heavy, and the quiet seemed so much louder with her refusal to meet your gaze. You didn’t know what you’d done wrong, only that something was different now. Something had changed, and it hurt more than you were ready to admit.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” you said, the words barely escaping your throat.

You turned toward the kitchen, sighing and not expecting anything else out of your daughter tonight. But then: “Hanbin’s crying, by the way.”

Your heart clenched at the mention of your son’s name, and you quickly turned to face Minseo, who was still engrossed in her phone.

“Why? What happened?!” you asked, your voice a little more urgent now.

Minseo didn't look up, her fingers still scrolling across the screen. “He tried calling Dad again. And... I guess he’s not picking up.” Her words came out flat, emotionless, as if she was just telling you about the weather today. 

You felt a pang in your chest at the thought of Hanbin, still too small to fully grasp the situation. All he wanted was to reach out to his father, to talk to him just like he always did. It was something you had feared - the growing distance between Hyunwoo and the kids. It wasn’t just that he had stopped being the man you married, but now his absence had begun to seep into their lives too.

You didn’t say anything immediately. Instead, you let out a long sigh and walked toward the stairs, your legs feeling heavier and heavier with each step. 

You hadn’t even realized how scared you were of this happening. But now, standing in the hallway at the foot of Hanbin’s door, you couldn’t run from it any longer.

You knocked gently. “Hanbin?”

A faint, muffled sob reached your ears from inside. Your stomach twisted at the sound.

The door creaked open, and you found him curled up on his bed, his small body trembling with each sob. His phone was clenched tightly in his hands, the screen still lit up, but there were no new messages, no notifications. Just an unanswered call to his father.

Your heart broke all over again as you knelt beside him. “Hey, buddy,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his back gently. “What happened?”

Hanbin wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, his little eyes red and puffy from all the crying. “Dad... he didn’t answer,” he sniffled, his voice cracking. “He promised. He said he would talk to me every day... but he didn’t. I don’t know what I did wrong…”

You almost started crying too. How could you explain this to him? How could you make him understand that this was something that wasn’t his fault, but that there was also nothing you could do to change it?

You sat down next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace, feeling his small body shake with every sob. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Hanbin. It’s not your fault.”

“I want to talk to him. Why doesn’t he want to talk to me, mommy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. The words hit you harder than anything else he could have said.

You gently rocked him back and forth, trying to find the right words, but you knew that nothing would take away your son's pain.

You wanted so badly to make everything better for him, to explain it in a way that would help him understand. But it was all too complicated, and you didn't know if a 9 year old like him could already understand.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back a little to look into his tear-streaked face. “Maybe you can tell me about your day, okay? I’d love to hear about it.”

He sniffled, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. His wide eyes met yours for a moment before dropping to the bed. “You’re not daddy,” he muttered. “I can't talk to you about everything I talk to him...”

Your heart broke a little more. He was right. You weren’t his father. You couldn’t fix this for him. But you weren’t going to let him think that you didn’t care, either.

“You're right,” you said softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I’m not daddy. But I do care about you. I care about everything you’re feeling right now.”

Hanbin sniffled again, his face scrunching up as though he was trying to hold it all together. "But it’s not the same," he whispered, his voice trembling. "I just want to talk to him."

You didn’t know what to say. The silence that followed felt heavy, and you just continued to quietly hold him against you. The words hovered in the air between you, but you had no answers. You knew that Hanbin needed his father - he needed a male figure who understood him, someone who was supposed to be there for him.

But there was another thought that nagged at the back of your mind. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he could talk to someone else. Someone who could listen. Someone who understood, even if it wasn’t his father.

“Hanbin,” you said, your voice quiet but firm, “what if you talked to Uncle Hongjoong instead? You know he’s always there for you.”

The idea hung in the air for a moment, and Hanbin’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, a flicker of hope in his gaze. But then he shook his head slowly.

“I don’t want to,” he mumbled, turning his face away, staring at the wall as though it could somehow block out everything else. "He’s not... not dad."

It hit you harder than you expected - the realization that even Hongjoong, someone who had been a part of your family for so long, couldn’t replace the hole that Hyunwoo had left. Hanbin had known him since birth, had shared so many memories with him, yet in that moment, he wanted no one else but Hyunwoo. Not even Hongjoong whom he usually adored so much.

“I know, buddy,” you whispered, pulling him into your arms again, wishing you could somehow make it all go away. “I get it. But you don’t have to be alone with this. We’re all here for you, okay? You can always talk to me, even if I’m not daddy.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything more. His small body trembled a little less, but the sadness still lingered of course. You wished there was a way to make it magically disappear, but unfortunately, you were just a human with no such power.

You held him there for a while, neither of you saying anything. You didn’t need to.

Finally, Hanbin pulled back slightly, wiping his eyes and looking up at you. “Can we try calling dad again tomorrow?”

You nodded, even though you knew that it was unlikely anything would change. “Of course, we can. We’ll try again.”

You gently wiped away the last of Hanbin’s tears and let out a soft sigh. 

“How about you go to bed now, hm?” you asked softly, brushing the damp hair from his forehead. “Don't you have your math test tomorrow?”

Hanbin sniffled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess. But... what if I don't do good?”

You smiled faintly, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “You're going to do great. You always do, Hanbin. You're so smart. I believe in you.”

His eyes glimmered with a small trace of hope at your words, and he gave you a weak nod, though the uncertainty still lingered in his gaze.

“Okay,” he muttered, still sounding unsure, but he allowed you to tuck him in nonetheless. 

“And hey,” you added, your voice soft but warm, “I'll make you your favorite breakfast tomorrow, okay? Pancakes, right?”

Hanbin’s eyes lightened up at the mention of pancakes, and despite the lingering sadness on his face, he offered you a small, tired smile. “Thanks, mommy.”

Your heart clenched a little, but you smiled back, brushing a hand through his messy hair one last time before standing up from the side of his bed.

“Goodnight, sweetie. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Hanbin whispered, closing his eyes as he settled further into his blankets.

By the time you made your way back downstairs, Minseo had already retreated back to her room. Her door was closed, and the only thing indicating she was still awake was the soft music coming from her phone. 

You wanted so badly to knock and wish her a goodnight, but you knew not to push your luck. For now, all you could do was respect her space.

And so, you stepped outside onto the front porch, the cool night air brushing against your face. The whole neighbourhood was silent, and only a few streetlights lit up the street. As your gaze swept over the yard, your eyes landed on the porch next door and onto the man sitting there. 

Kim Hongjoong. 

He looked different, though. His shoulders were slightly slumped, as if the weight of something heavy rested on them. His hair, always so carefully styled, had grown a little longer, falling messily across his forehead. He wore a black hoodie and a pair of dark jeans, his hands tucked into the pockets, his expression unreadable. Even in the dim light, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lines of stress that hadn’t been there before.

The sight of him like this hurt. You'd always admired Hongjoong for his energy, his fire, his passion about even the smallest things, but tonight, he looked... broken.

You hesitated for a moment before walking over to his porch. “Hey,” you called softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up at you, and the corner of his lips curled into a faint, almost sad smile. “Hey. Didn’t expect you to be out this late.”

You gave a small shrug. “Had a long shift. The kids are okay for now, so I thought I’d get some air.”

He nodded, glancing at the empty space beside him. “Wanna join me?”

You stepped up, taking a seat next to him, the familiar creak of the old wood beneath you a reminder of how many times you'd sat here before, talking, laughing, even crying. It used to be different. You used to talk about everything, and you could always count on him to make things feel a little lighter, a little more bearable.

But tonight, there was an awkward tension between you two, the kind that comes from years of shared history and sudden distance. The silence stretched for a while, neither of you willing to break it, both lost in your own thoughts.

Finally, Hongjoong spoke, his voice soft, almost hesitant. “How are things... at home?”

You glanced at him, unsure whether to give him a real answer. But then you realized that maybe, just for tonight, you should. For your own sake. “It’s been hard. Minseo’s shutting me out more than usual, and Hanbin... he’s not doing too good either. He tried calling Hyunwoo again. No answer, of course.”

Hongjoong sighed, his gaze turning to the distant streetlights. “I’m sorry, I know that’s got to be tough. For you and the kids.”

You nodded, looking down at your hands. “It’s so… silent. I thought it was just my own imagination... but I feel it in the house. Even with Minseo, there’s this distance. And Hanbin - he’s still holding onto the idea that things are okay between him and Hyunwoo. It’s breaking my heart because I have no idea how to tell him that his dad seemingly decided to cut all contact.”

“It feels like someone's trying to rip my heart out,” you continued, your voice a little shaky now. “He still believes that things will go back to normal. Every time he calls his dad and gets no answer, I see the hurt in his eyes. I don’t know how to fix that for him, Hongjoong. He’s just a little boy.”

Hongjoong shifted slightly, his fingers tapping restlessly against his knees. “It’s hard, isn’t it? Trying to shield them from the things they shouldn’t have to know.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I don’t want them to feel like this. Minseo, she’s... she’s different now, too. Now that Hyunwoo left… I don’t know how to reach her anymore.”

“Minseo’s at that age, too, you know. The teens are hard. But I can tell you, she’s just needs a little time. It’s hard for them to see the people they love… change into something they don’t recognize.”

You let out a soft sigh and nodded, but the ache for your kids didn’t let up. “She’s always been so strong, but it’s like she’s holding everything in. I wish I could break through... But she's shutting me out.”

Hongjoong shifted his weight, his body a little tense as though he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to begin. You glanced over at him, and for a moment, his eyes met yours, a soft understanding in them.

"I know what you're going through," he said quietly. "I know it all too well." He paused, and you could hear him take a deep breath. "Minji... she left me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You turned to him, eyes wide with shock. “W-what? Hongjoong, I-”

“She cheated,” he said, his voice shaking slightly, his hand gripping his knee even tighter. “She left me for another man... a rich one, apparently. Someone she’d been seeing behind my back.” His eyes were distant, haunted, as if the words themselves were still too raw, too surreal for him to fully grasp. “I didn’t see it coming. It... it hurt more than I thought it would.”

You couldn’t find the right words to say. You knew Minji had been distant in the months leading up to their split, but this? You never imagined it would be something like this. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him, though you knew words couldn’t heal the wound he was feeling.

“I’m so sorry, Hongjoong. I had no idea…”

He nodded, letting out a deep breath. “I didn’t either. She had been so cold, so... unreachable. But I never thought it would end like this. And... that's not even the worst part. Yena, she… she was the one who caught them.”

“She what? Oh, God, Yena… how did she...”

Hongjoong let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “She walked in on them. Just like that. She saw her mom with him, saw them together in our own home. I don't know how much she really understands, but I... I can't even imagine what that must’ve done to her. She was so angry, but also so sad, and I couldn't even find the words to comfort her. I don't know how to fix this for her, either. I don't know how to make any of this better.”

You felt a sickening tightness in your stomachas the horror of Yena’s situation began to sink in. A child should never have to witness something like that, let alone process the reality that their own mother had been unfaithful.

“Yena must be so hurt... she must feel so betrayed. What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what to say. All I could do was hold her, and... and try to assure her that it wasn’t her fault. But the thing is, it felt like she was losing more than just her mother. It felt like she was losing both of us. She’s so confused, and I don’t know what to do for her. I can't just tell her it’s all going to be okay. It's not okay. It’s not even close.”

You could hear the anguish in Hongjoong's voice, and the weight of his pain was so tangible, it felt like it had pressed down onto your chest as well. He had always been the person others turned to for support - strong, dependable, someone who had always been a rock for those around him. But now, it seemed like the rock was breaking.

“I'm so sorry, Hongjoong,” you murmured again, unsure what else you could offer. You couldn't even imagine how hard this was for him. The hurt in his voice mirrored the same kind of sorrow you felt for your own family, and you both sat there for a while, not needing to say anything more. You both understood loss. You both understood the feeling of your whole world crashing down.

“What do we do now, Joongie? For the kids?”

Hongjoong looked down at his hands, fingers fidgeting in his lap as he took a deep breath, processing your question. For a long moment, there was only the quiet rustle of leaves in the wind and the distant honking of cars.

“What do we do now?” he muttered to himself, clearly frustrated. “I honestly don’t know, but… the kids... they need us, and we can’t keep letting them feel like they’re alone in this.”

“Well, summer break is coming up,” you said slowly, trying to organize your thoughts. “Maybe... maybe we could do something together? Like, take their minds off everything for a while. There’s still a lot we can do, right? Something to help them feel... normal.”

Hongjoong’s gaze lifted to meet yours, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. We could take them on some trips. Give them a change of scenery, get away from all this... stuff. I mean, Yena’s been asking about going to the lake house again. Maybe we could take the kids somewhere like that.”

You smiled at the idea. Hanbin, too, had always loved that same lake house. It could be the escape they needed. Maybe even Minseo, despite her recent moodiness, would open up if she had the right distractions.

“Yeah, that could be good,” you agreed. “Maybe a trip to the lake. And we could do some other things too - like go to an amusement park or the zoo. Somewhere fun, where they can just be kids. It won’t fix everything, but it might give them a chance to breathe.”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes glowing with a bit more energy than before. “Exactly! A little fun, a little time away from home. Get them excited for the summer, make some good memories.”

“We’ll plan a whole summer week of distractions, then,” you said, giving him a small smile. “We’ll give them something to look forward to.”

Hongjoong’s smile widened slightly, and he gave a short laugh. “Sounds like a plan then!”

“But... there might be a small problem, Joongie. Minseo and Yena... aren't exactly friends.”

And just like that, his smile faltered for a second, his brows furrowing as he processed your words. He let out a soft sigh, rubbing the back of his neck in thought.

“I… didn’t think about that,” he admitted quietly. “They're still not on speaking terms?”

You shook your head, a tired sigh escaping you. “No, they aren't. I don’t know if it’s their personalities or something else, but they don’t exactly mesh well. And with everything that’s been going on lately… I’m worried it might be worse.”

Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, staring at the ground for a moment as he thought. “That’s... going to be tricky. I don’t want them to feel like they have to spend time together if they’re not comfortable, but at the same time, it’s hard to separate them if we’re all supposed to be spending time together.”

“Exactly,” you agreed. “I don’t want to force them into anything, but it’s going to be hard to plan activities that make everyone happy if we don’t at least try to get them to work things out.” You paused, tapping your fingers lightly on the armrest of the chair. “Maybe we could start small? Give them a chance to build something on their own terms.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Yeah... We could try easing them into it. Maybe not throw them into some big group thing right away. Let them have some time to get used to the idea of spending time together again, but without forcing it.” He looked at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. “It’s going to be awkward, though. I know Minseo’s been distant with Yena for a while now.”

“Yeah, Minseo’s been pulling away, and Yena - well, no offense - she's not exactly the type to try and fix things on her own. I don’t know if she even knows how to handle Minseo's recent temper,” you admitted, your voice softening. “But maybe... maybe this summer could be a chance to get them to at least try. They don’t have to be best friends overnight, but if we give them the space to reconnect, they might surprise us.”

Hongjoong exhaled deeply, his fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just a matter of giving them time. We don’t have to rush anything, and if they’re not ready, we can adjust. But if they’re going to be in the same place a lot this summer, we might have to come up with some ground rules to keep things... civil.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Ground rules, huh? Like no biting each other’s heads off every time they disagree?”

Hongjoong’s lips formed a small grin. “Something like that. We’ll avoid any forced bonding, but also make sure they understand our time together might help them, too. No matter how awkward it gets, they have to remember they’re in this together for now.”

You tilted your head, a teasing glint sparking in your eyes. “Think we should draw up a contract? ‘No screaming matches, no storming off, and definitely no threatening to run away after every argument.’”

Hongjoong chuckled, shaking his head. “Knowing Minseo and Yena, they’d probably negotiate harsher terms for us.”

You laughed, feeling a bit of the tension ease. “God, we're doomed.”

“Completely,” he agreed, grinning. “But at least we go down fighting.”

“Mom, when are we there?” Hanbin whined from the back seat, his small legs swinging restlessly as he kicked the seat in front of him.

“Soon, sweetheart,” you replied patiently, twisting in your seat to glance back at him. “We’ve only got about an hour left.”

Before you could settle back in, a sharp voice cut through the air.

“Minseo, stop hogging the armrest!” Yena snapped, shoving Minseo’s elbow aside.

“Oh, please! You’ve been leaning on me this whole time,” Minseo shot back, eyes flashing.

You sighed, already feeling a headache forming. “Girls, enough. We’re going to be stuck in this car for at least another hour, please try to keep it together until then!” 

Neither of them seemed particularly thrilled at the idea but begrudgingly muttered, “Fine.”

Settling back into your seat, you exhaled once again. Your gaze drifted toward Hongjoong, who had his hands steady on the wheel, his expression focused but relaxed, chuckling slightly. The sunlight filtering through the windshield caught the sharp line of his jaw, highlighting features you hadn’t allowed yourself to notice in a long time.

Huh... you thought absently, he really hasn’t changed much... except somehow he looks even better now.

Time had been remarkably kind to Hongjoong - if anything, age had sharpened his features in a way that made him look even more striking. The soft crinkles at the corners of his eyes only added depth to his good looks, and the streaks of silver in his dark hair gave him an air of effortless charm.

You caught yourself staring and quickly looked away, clearing your throat. Focus, you reminded yourself. We’re just co-parenting this trip… it's just Hongjoong, for fuck’s sake! You've known him for over 20 years now!

Shaking off the thought as quickly as it came, you turned back toward the kids. “Alright, how about we play a game? Something to keep us all from losing our minds before we get there.”

Hanbin perked up immediately, his eyes lighting up. “I wanna play I Spy!” he announced eagerly.

Minseo groaned dramatically. “That game’s so boring...”

Yena crossed her arms. “It’s better than sitting here in awkward silence.”

Before your daughter could snap back, Hongjoong’s voice chimed in, and he looked back at the children for a quick second. “How about this - whoever wins gets to pick the first activity when we get there. Sounds good?”

The girls exchanged wary glances but, to your relief, nodded reluctantly.

“Alright, Hanbin, you can go first,” you encouraged, hoping the game might ease the tension.

Hanbin beamed. “Okay! I spy with my little eye... something blue!”

Everyone glanced around the car, scanning the scenery flashing past. Minseo guessed, “The sky?”

“Nope!” Hanbin grinned mischievously.

“The sign we just passed?” Yena continued hesitantly.

“Nope!” Hanbin’s giggles grew louder.

You frowned playfully. “Is it... your shirt?”

Hanbin’s laughter erupted. “Yes! Took you long enough!”

The game continued, and after a while, the kids grew quieter. Hanbin eventually nodded off, his small head resting against Minseo’s shoulder, who tolerated it with only a mild eye-roll before gently adjusting so he’d be more comfortable. Yena was absorbed in her phone, earbuds in, lost in her own world.

Hongjoong’s fingers tapped the steering wheel rhythmically. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, a fond smile tugging at your lips. Time really had shifted so much between you, yet sitting here felt oddly... right. Familiar, in a way you hadn’t realized you missed.

“We’re almost there,” he murmured after a long stretch of silence, his voice low but warm. “You okay?”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Yeah... it’s nice. Feels like old times, kinda.”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah... it does.”

The car eventually pulled onto a winding gravel road bordered by towering trees on its side. The air outside was warm, and you could hear cicadas humming faintly in the distance. At the end of the path stood the cozy, weathered cabin - its wooden frame sturdy and welcoming, framed by flower-filled window boxes and a wide wraparound porch.

“We’re here!” Hongjoong announced as he stalled the engine.

Hanbin stirred awake instantly, blinking sleepily before gasping in delight. “We’re here? We’re here!”

Yena and Minseo both perked up, stretching as they climbed out of the car. You followed, inhaling deeply, savoring the fresh, earthy scent of pine and warm grass.

Hongjoong stepped around the car to join you, his expression light and content. “Still looks the same, huh?”

“Yeah...” You nodded, memories of summers spent here flashing through your mind. “Feels like home.”

Before either of you could say more, Hanbin sprinted toward the cabin, shouting excitedly, “I get to pick the first activity!” Yena and Minseo exchanged knowing looks before chasing after him, laughter spilling through the air.

You and Hongjoong shared a quiet, understanding smile.

“Ready for this?” he asked playfully, his eyes crinkling in that familiar, heart-stirring way.

You laughed softly, bumping his shoulder. “Let’s see if we can survive the kids.” 

After a whirlwind of unpacking - bags hauled inside, beds claimed, and a brief argument between the girls over god knows what - the cabin finally settled into a somewhat peaceful rhythm. The kids’ things were scattered in every direction, but at least no one was actively yelling anymore.

Well, almost no one.

“I’m not sharing a room with her!” Yena declared, arms crossed as she stood in the small hallway, glaring daggers at Minseo.

“Good, I don’t want to share with you either,” Minseo shot back, equally stubborn.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, already feeling a familiar headache creeping in again. Before you could step in, Hongjoong spoke up, taking care of the situation for you.

“Fine. Minseo, you take the small room upstairs. Yena, you get the pullout couch in the living room. Problem solved.”

Both girls opened their mouths to argue, but something in Hongjoong’s gaze made them reconsider. Grumbling, they grabbed their bags and stomped off in opposite directions.

You sighed, shooting Hongjoong a grateful look. “Crisis averted… for now.”

He smirked. “Not bad for our first hour here.”

Then reality hit you. “Wait... if Minseo’s in the small room and Yena’s in the living room... where are we sleeping?”

His brow furrowed for a moment before realization dawned. He let out a resigned chuckle. “There’s only one bed left... the master.”

Your stomach flipped. You hadn’t even considered that possibility when booking the cabin, assuming the girls would share like they used to when they were younger.

“Well...” You cleared your throat. “It’s a big bed. We’ll... manage.”

Hongjoong nodded, still smiling faintly. “We’ve survived worse.”

You tried not to read much into the warmth in his voice, quickly busying yourself by unpacking. Sharing a bed with your best friend felt... somewhat weird. But at least you were both adults. It would be fine.

Probably.

Once everything was sorted and the girls' tempers cooled down, Hanbin burst into the living room, practically vibrating with excitement and jumping up and down like a bouncy ball. “I know what I want to do first!” he announced, with sparkling eyes and a huge smile on his face.

Minseo leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “This better not be something ridiculous.”

Hanbin ignored her, bouncing on his toes. “I want to go to the lake! We can swim and skip rocks!”

Yena groaned a little but didn’t protest, clearly itching to stretch her legs after the long drive. Minseo sighed but grabbed her swimsuit from her bag without further complaint.

You exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, who smirked knowingly. “Guess the lake it is,” he said, grabbing a couple of towels from the stack you’d unpacked.

Within minutes, everyone was ready, swimsuits on and sunscreen applied. The well-worn path to the lake stretched through a small wooded area surrounded by trees. The distant sound of water lapping against the shore grew louder as you approached.

When the trees parted, the lake spread out before you, sparkling like glass under the sinking sun. The familiar wooden dock jutted into the water, weathered but still sturdy, just as you remembered.

Hanbin wasted no time, sprinting toward the dock in a hurry. “Watch me, mom!” he yelled before cannonballing into the water with an impressive splash.

You laughed, shielding your face from the spray. “Careful!”

Minseo and Yena exchanged a glance before racing toward the water, both diving in gracefully. Their laughter echoed across the water as they surfaced, already bickering over whose dive was better.

You sat down on the dock’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. It was refreshing against your skin, easing the lingering tension from the long drive.

Hongjoong settled next to you, close enough that your shoulders brushed. He rested his arms on his knees, eyes on the kids as they played and splashed. His expression softened.

“It’s nice seeing them like this,” he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Yeah...” You nodded, watching Hanbin laugh as Minseo playfully dunked Yena under the water. “It feels... right. Like they’re making the same memories we did.”

Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, something unreadable in his eyes. Before he could say anything, Hanbin’s voice rang out.

“Uncle Hongjoong! Mom! Come swim with us!” He waved both arms excitedly, his face lit up with pure joy.

You hesitated, but Hongjoong was already standing, pulling off his shirt in one smooth motion. He glanced back at you, smirking. “You coming, or what?”

Your breath hitched for a split second, heat rushing to your face as you watched Hongjoong pull his shirt over his head. His toned torso gleamed under the afternoon sun, soft muscles flexing effortlessly as he stretched. Hongjoong wasn't that muscular, not even in his youth, but he was lean and strong and pretty.

You swallowed hard, feeling like a teenager all over again - heart pounding, pulse quickening - as if seeing a man's body for the first time. 

Get it together. It’s just Hongjoong.

You quickly tore your gaze away. But then, as your children waited for you to join them in the lake, insecurity crept in like an unwelcome guest. Your eyes flickered downward, taking in your own reflection in the water’s rippling surface. Time hadn’t been as kind to you as it had been to Hongjoong. Years of motherhood, stress, and life had left soft curves where there once were muscles, stretch marks tracing the story of your children’s lives on your skin.

You tugged at the hem of your swimsuit self-consciously, smoothing it over your hips.The doubts remained though - you weren’t the same you once were, and standing next to someone like Hongjoong only highlighted every insecurity you tried so hard to ignore.

“Hey,” his voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, warm and gentle. You looked up, startled, only to find him standing at the edge of the dock, hand outstretched toward you, a familiar spark in his eyes. “You coming or what?”

His smile was so easy, so genuine - like he saw you, not the flaws you couldn’t stop focusing on. Like you hadn’t changed at all in his eyes.

Like you two were still 16, and Minji and Hyunwoo never broke you.

Before you could overthink it, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers closed around yours firmly, pulling you to your feet with effortless strength.

“Let’s go,” he urged, eyes crinkling in that familiar, heart-melting way.

Without giving yourself time to hesitate, you stepped forward - and together, hand in hand, you jumped into the cool, welcoming embrace of the lake.

“Oh my god, it's so cold!” you shrieked once you surfaced again.

Hongjoong surfaced right beside you, laughing as he wiped water from his face. “What did you expect? This lake has always been freezing.”

You splashed water at him playfully. “You could’ve warned me!”

He dodged the spray, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Before you could retaliate, Hanbin swam over, eyes wide with excitement. “Did you see my cannonball, Uncle Hongjoong? Wasn’t it awesome?”

“It was epic!” Hongjoong praised, ruffling the boy’s damp hair. “You’re practically a pro now.”

Hanbin beamed proudly, already plotting his next jump off the dock. Yena and Minseo swam closer, still competing against each other.

“Bet I can swim to the dock faster than you,” Minseo challenged Yena.

“Oh, you’re on,” Yena shot back, already propelling herself through the water.

You laughed, watching them go. “Some things never change.”

Hongjoong chuckled beside you, treading water effortlessly. “Good to see them like this... even if they argue half the time.”

“Yeah.” You nodded, feeling the ache of nostalgia tug at your chest. 

Before you could linger too long in your thoughts, a mischievous gleam lit up Hongjoong’s eyes. “Race you back to the dock?”

You raised a brow. “Really? You think you can still beat me?”

His smirk widened. “Still? I always beat you.”

“Dream on,” you challenged, already pushing off the water.

The two of you surged forward, the cold water slicing around you as you swam with everything you had. For a moment, you were young again - no responsibilities, no past heartaches - just two old friends racing through the water like nothing had ever changed.

Hongjoong reached the dock a split second before you, laughing breathlessly as he gripped the edge. “Still got it.”

You gasped, trying to catch your breath, splashing water at him. “Barely.”

He leaned against the dock, still laughing, his face inches from yours. His gaze softened, lingering on you in a way that felt... different - familiar but weighted with something deeper, something unsaid.

You remembered that gaze. It was the same way he looked at you many, many years ago.

“Hey...” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

Your breath caught, but before either of you could speak, Hanbin’s voice rang out.

“Mom! Uncle Hongjoong! Watch this!”

You snapped back to reality just in time to see Hanbin launching himself off the dock in another dramatic cannonball. Water sprayed everywhere, making you both laugh as the moment slipped away like the ripples spreading across the lake.

Hours passed, and as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the chill of the evening air slowly began to set in. Yena and Minseo were still splashing and laughing, but even their boundless energy was bound to fade.

“Alright, girls!” you called. “Time to head back and get some dinner.”

Yena groaned dramatically. “Already?”

“It’s getting late,” Hongjoong reasoned, wading out of the water. “And I’m pretty sure Hanbin’s about to pass out.”

You turned to see your son curled up on the dock, wrapped in a damp towel, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. A fond smile tugged at your lips. “Poor thing played himself out.”

Hongjoong was already stepping onto the dock, water still dripping from his hair as he crouched beside Hanbin. “Guess I’m on carrying duty.”

“Joong, I can-”

He waved you off with a playful smirk. “I’ve got him.” With surprising ease, he scooped Hanbin into his arms, cradling the boy’s head against his shoulder. Hanbin stirred faintly but didn’t fully wake up, sighing contentedly in his sleep.

Your heart clenched at the sight - at how effortlessly Hongjoong fit into moments like this, how natural he looked carrying your son…

Minseo and Yena trailed behind as you led the way back toward the house, still chatting about god knows what.

By the time you reached the back porch, the sky was a deep shade of blur, stars beginning to pierce through the fading twilight. You unlocked the door and gestured toward the cozy living room.

“Lay him on the couch,” you suggested quietly.

Hongjoong nodded, carefully settling Hanbin onto the plush cushions, adjusting a blanket over him. He lingered a moment, brushing damp hair from Hanbin’s forehead with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“Thanks,” you whispered, unable to keep the emotion from your voice.

He met your gaze, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes. “Anytime.”

Before the silence could stretch too long, Minseo poked her head into the room. “Mom, what’s for dinner?”

You smiled faintly, clearing your throat. “How about spaghetti?”

Minseo’s face lit up. “Can we help?”

“Of course.” You motioned toward the kitchen. “Yena, you too. You’re on garlic bread duty.”

The girls rushed ahead, their giggles echoing through the house. Hongjoong lingered in the doorway, watching his daughter with that soft, distant expression he always got when he thought no one was looking.

“How about you take a shower first? No need to help, me and the girls got this,” you suggested. 

Hongjoong groaned, stretching his body. “You sure?”

“Positive. You drove us here, I'll make dinner. It's the least I can do.”

Hongjoong hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you before nodding slowly. “Alright, but call me if you need anything.”

You smiled warmly. “Go. We’ve got it.”

He disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone in the kitchen with the girls. Minseo was already setting a pot of water to boil while Yena hunted for the garlic bread ingredients.

“Mom, where’s the bread knife?” Minseo asked, rummaging through a drawer.

“Top left, under the cutting board.”

Yena held up a baguette triumphantly. “Found it!”

You chuckled, grabbing an apron from the hook. “Alright, let’s make this quick before you two pass out too.”

You couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of peace as you watched the girls. It made you think… When was the last time Minseo and Hanbin were this relaxed, this happy when Hyunwoo was still around? Of course they loved their father, but when the two of you were still married, the atmosphere was always tense. Never this light nor carefree. 

It's all thanks to Hongjoong and even Yena that your children could forget their worries and be happy. And even you could feel yourself smile and laugh without a single worry in the world right now.

Just as you were finishing the sauce, you heard soft footsteps behind you. Turning, you found Hongjoong leaning against the doorway, freshly showered, his hair damp and tousled, wearing a simple hoodie and sweatpants. He looked so relaxed, so… right.

“Smells amazing,” he said, his voice warm.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you replied, pretending your heart hadn’t just skipped a beat.

“Need me to set the table?” he offered.

“Already done,” Minseo piped up proudly.

He chuckled. “You girls are fast.”

“Sit,” you insisted, waving him toward the dining table. “Relax for once.”

Hongjoong held up his hands in surrender, moving to take a seat as the girls carried plates and bowls to the table.

Once everything was set, you all gathered around, Yena claiming the seat next to her father and eagerly telling him something, while Minseo took the seat right next to you. For a moment, it felt like you were part of something whole again - just a family sitting and eating together.

As the meal wound down, Hanbin stirred from the couch, his sleepy trying to blink the sleep away. “Mom...?”

You were by his side in an instant. “Hey, baby. You hungry?”

He nodded slowly, still half-asleep. Before you could lift him, Hongjoong was already there, scooping Hanbin up with practiced ease and settling him gently into a chair.

“Thanks, Uncle Joong,” Hanbin mumbled, leaning against him as you placed a small plate of spaghetti in front of him.

Hongjoong ruffled his hair with a fond smile. “Anytime, buddy.”

Hanbin had finished only a few bites of his spaghetti before sleep claimed him again. You and Hongjoong exchanged a knowing look. Without a word, he gently lifted Hanbin into his arms once more, cradling him like it was second nature. You followed him down the hall to Hanbin’s room, pushing the door open softly.

Hongjoong laid Hanbin down on the small bed, tucking the blanket up to his chin. His expression was so tender, so full of quiet affection that it made your heart ache in ways you couldn’t quite explain. You stood at the foot of the bed, watching in silence as he smoothed Hanbin’s hair one last time before stepping back.

“Goodnight, buddy,” he whispered.

You mouthed a silent thank you as you both slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind you.

You and Hongjoong walked down the hall, your shoulders brushing ever so slightly as you walked side by side. Neither of you spoke, but the comfortable silence between you felt like its own kind of conversation.

As you reached your shared living space for the holidays, Hongjoong stretched with a quiet groan, running a hand through his still damp hair. “I think I’m officially done for the day,” he admitted, a tired but content smile tugging at his lips.

You chuckled softly. “Go lay down already, I’ll check on the girls.”

He hesitated for a moment, searching your face as though he wanted to say something more, but ultimately he just nodded. “Goodnight... and thanks for today. For everything.”

“Anytime,” you replied warmly, echoing his earlier words.

He disappeared into your shared room, leaving you standing alone in the dimly lit hallway. With a soft sigh, you headed toward the girls’ rooms, pausing outside Minseo’s door. Peeking inside, you found her already curled up under her blankets, fast asleep. You adjusted her comforter gently before stepping back.

Just as you turned to leave, a faint, choked sound reached your ears - muffled sobs coming from Yena’s room. Your chest tightened, knowing instantly what it meant. You hesitated, fingers hovering over her door. You weren’t her mother... you didn’t want to overstep.

But you couldn’t just walk away either.

You knocked lightly, your voice soft but steady. “Yena? It’s... it’s me. Can I come in?”

There was a long, agonizing silence. Just when you thought she wouldn’t answer, her voice, small and slightly hoarse, finally whispered, “...Okay.”

You pushed the door open slowly and found her curled up in a tight ball on her bed, her face buried in her arms, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. The soft glow of the moon bathed her room in silver light, casting long shadows across the walls.

Carefully, you sat on the edge of her bed, not wanting to crowd her. “Hey... what’s going on?”

“I just… I just wish mom was here, you know? But… but at the same time, I wish I'd never have to see her again… but I-i,” she choked out.

Your heart shattered at the weight of her words.

“I don’t... I don’t get how she could just do that to dad,” Yena continued, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and grief. “She was supposed to love him... to love me… but she ruined everything.”

Tears burned at the back of your eyes, but you kept your voice steady. “It’s okay to feel both, Yena. Missing her doesn’t mean you’re forgiving what she did... and being angry doesn’t mean you’ve stopped loving her.”

She sniffled, wiping at her tear-streaked face. “I hate that I still care… that part of me wants her back, even after everything she did.”

Carefully, you rested a gentle hand on her back. “That just means you have a big heart… and you love deeply. It’s not wrong to feel that way.”

Her lip trembled as she whispered, “It hurts so much.”

Without thinking, you opened your arms. She hesitated for only a second before collapsing into your embrace, her sobs breaking free as she clung to you.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, holding her tightly. “You’re allowed to feel everything... you don’t have to carry it alone.”

You held Yena close, letting her cry until the worst of her sobs subsided. You gently stroked her hair, whispering soothing words as her trembling lessened.

“I know it’s hard,” you murmured. “But you’re not alone, Yena. You’ll never be alone.”

A quiet shuffling sound drew your attention to the doorway. Minseo stood there, her dark hair tousled from sleep, eyes groggy but alert.

Yena tensed the moment she noticed her, eyes narrowing.

“What are you doing here?” Yena’s voice cracked.

“Minseo, sweetheart... maybe you should go back to bed,” you suggested softly, not wanting to escalate things.

But Minseo didn’t budge. Without a word, she walked over, climbed onto the bed, and sat on the opposite side, her small hand reaching out to rest atop Yena’s.

Yena flinched but didn’t pull away, confusion flashing across her tear-streaked face.

“I... I get it,” Minseo said quietly, her voice steady but strained. “I miss my dad too... but I also hate him... and I don’t know how to stop feeling both.”

Your breath hitched.

Then, turning to you, she continued: “I don’t understand why you hate him… why you left him, mom...” Minseo continued, her fingers curling against Yena’s. “He was always nice... to me, at least. He never yelled or hit you... so why did you leave? Why did he stop talking to me? Why... why did everything have to change?”

Her voice cracked, tears filling her wide, questioning eyes. “I feel like I’m the reason he’s gone... like if I’d been better, maybe he would’ve stayed.”

Yena stared at Minseo. Then, quickly, she shook her head.

“It’s not your fault,” Yena whispered. “Parents... they just... mess up sometimes.”

Minseo’s lips trembled. “But he left... he doesn’t even call anymore. And... and mom, you never tell me what happened... you just expect me to be okay with it.”

Your heart broke all over again. “Minseo... I’m so sorry.”

For the first time, Yena squeezed Minseo’s hand. “I thought it was my fault too... what my mom did. But... maybe... it’s not about us.”

Minseo nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “It still hurts.”

“I know,” Yena whispered. “It hurts for me too.”

Without another word, the two girls leaned into each other, and giggled as they hit their heads.

They didn't even notice that you were long gone and soon fell asleep in each other's arms.

The car doors slammed shut one after another as you, Hongjoong, Yena, Minseo, and Hanbin stepped out into the parking lot of the amusement park. It has been Hanbin’s dream for the longest time to go here, and so it wasn't a surprise to see him practically vibrating with excitement, unable to stand still. “Can we go on the rides now?” he begged, bouncing on his toes.

“Shoes first,” you reminded gently, watching as he hastily retied a crooked lace.

Meanwhile, Minseo and Yena stood off to the side, chatting and giggling quietly about something only they understood. They shared a glance and broke into another round of laughter.

Hongjoong, locking the car, paused mid-motion, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the two girls. “...Are they laughing together?”

You bit back a smile, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Minseo and Yena rarely went five minutes without bickering - this newfound harmony was bound to set off alarm bells in his overprotective brain.

“They’re allowed to get along, you know,” you teased, nudging him playfully.

He scoffed. “Since when?”

Before you could answer, Hanbin tugged at Hongjoong’s arm. “Please, can we go now?” His eyes sparkled with pure excitement.

“Alright, alright, let’s go before you explode,” Hongjoong relented, ruffling the boy’s hair.

As you all headed toward the amusement park entrance, Hanbin sprinted ahead, pointing at every ride he saw, his excitement even infecting you.

Yena and Minseo walked side by side, still wrapped up in their own quiet little world. 

Hongjoong couldn’t stop glancing at them, looking utterly confused. “This is... still so weird to see,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “They don’t fight anymore? What happened?”

You hid a smile. “Guess we'll never know.”

It has been two days since that night, yet every time he saw them together actually getting along, Hongjoong still acted like he'd just seen a ghost. It was hilarious honestly. 

He shot you a suspicious look but let it go, too distracted by Hanbin waving frantically near the ticket booth. “Come on! We’re wasting time!”

With tickets finally secured, you stepped into the park. Hanbin immediately took off like a rocket, forcing you and Hongjoong to jog after him.

“Let’s do that one!” Hanbin shouted, pointing to a massive roller coaster twisting through the sky.

“That’s a bit intense for a first ride,” you laughed. “Maybe we can try something a little... less likely to send me into cardiac arrest?”

Hanbin groaned dramatically but agreed. Yena and Minseo quietly whispered, eyeing the spinning teacup ride nearby.

“How about the teacups first?” you suggested.

To your surprise, both girls nodded eagerly. Even Hanbin agreed after a moment’s thought - probably because it meant getting on a ride as soon as possible.

As the ride operator let you in, Hanbin raced to grab a seat, demanding that Hongjoong spin their cup as fast as possible. You couldn’t help but laugh at the way Hongjoong rolled his eyes but complied, already bracing himself for Hanbin’s shouts of “Faster Uncle Hongjoong, faster!”

You settled into another teacup with Minseo and Yena, the three of you spinning gently while the girls giggled every time it went a little fast.

After the teacups, you stretched your arms with a contented sigh. Your body wasn't getting any younger and even this little activity settled deep into your bones. “How about the Ferris wheel next? We can get a better view of the park from up there and plan what to do after.”

Hanbin’s face scrunched in disappointment. “The Ferris wheel? That’s boring!”

Before you could respond, Hongjoong gently ruffled his hair. “It’s not boring. It’s a good way to see where all the best rides are.”

Hanbin crossed his arms but reluctantly followed as you headed toward the towering Ferris wheel.

As you approached the line, Hanbin perked up. “I wanna ride with Minseo and Yena!”

The girls exchanged glances, raising their eyebrows. “Sorry, Hanbin,” Minseo said with mock seriousness. “Only girls allowed.”

“Yeah,” Yena added playfully. “You’re too little anyway.”

“Am not!” Hanbin stomped his foot, his cheeks turning red.

You opened your mouth to intervene, but Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your arm, shaking his head subtly. “Hey, bud,” he called to Hanbin. “You can ride with us.”

But Hanbin, now thoroughly offended, huffed and stomped toward an empty cart on his own.

“Hanbin, wait-” you started, but the ride operator had already secured the gate behind him. He plopped down in the cart with crossed arms, glaring at nothing in particular.

Hongjoong sighed. “He’s fine. He just needs a minute.”

You nodded, though worry still tugged at your chest. As the Ferris wheel slowly lifted you into the sky, you watched Hanbin’s cart ahead of yours. His pouty face softened a little as he gazed out over the park, clearly enchanted by the view despite his earlier protest.

Hongjoong also watched the children for a little before collapsing back into his seat, a groan escaping him.

“You look tired,” you said gently, breaking the comfortable silence.

He blinked, surprised. “Tired? Nah... I’m fine.”

“Liar.” You smirked knowingly. “You’ve been running around after Hanbin all day.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Without thinking, you shifted closer, reaching toward his shoulder. “Here, let me-”

Before your fingers could make contact, Hongjoong straightened abruptly, his eyes widening. “Ah! No need- seriously!”

You raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You sure? You were literally wincing earlier.”

He waved a hand dismissively, though a faint flush crept up his neck. “I-I probably just... slept weird last night or something.”

“...Right.” You couldn’t help but laugh softly at how flustered he’d become. “I don't bite, Hongjoong.”

He scratched his head, avoiding your gaze. “I know. I just... you don’t have to.”

His shyness was almost endearing, and you found yourself smiling widely. 

Then, even though you were already moving on in your mind, Hongjoong let out a small, guilty sigh, and you perked up at that sound. “Okay... I might’ve brought my laptop.”

You blinked at him. “...Seriously? Joong, we’re on vacation. You promised no work.”

“I’m not working,” he defended himself quickly. “It’s just... in case something urgent comes up.”

You shook your head, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re hopeless.”

Before he could reply, the Ferris wheel gave a sudden, sharp jolt, making the entire cabin shake. You gasped as you lost your balance, tumbling forward and right into Hongjoong’s chest.

His arms wrapped around you instinctively, holding you securely against him. Your palms rested against the soft fabric of his hoodie, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath.

“You okay?” he asked, voice softer now, concerned.

“Y-Yeah.” You nodded, still pressed against him. “That... wasn’t supposed to happen, right?”

His eyes flicked upward toward the still Ferris wheel mechanism. “I don’t think so...”

Neither of you moved, still tangled together as the realization slowly set in: you were stuck.

You became acutely aware of how close your faces were, his dark eyes searching yours, warmth radiating from his body. His arm was still firm around your waist, steadying you in the swaying cart, and you couldn’t help but notice the small details about him now that the two of you were so close. The glasses perched on his nose framed his sharp, elegant features- his jawline was slightly more defined than you remembered, as if time had chiseled away the last hints of softness from his youth. His lips, faintly pursed as he looked at you with concern, were fuller than they had any right to be.

His hair, dark and slightly tousled, framed his face effortlessly, giving him an almost disheveled yet neat charm that felt... magnetic. The open collar of his shirt exposed the curve of his collarbones and the faint shadows of muscle below. You tried not to look, but your gaze betrayed you, lowering there for just a moment too long.

It hit you like a punch to the gut- why the hell were you suddenly noticing these things? You’d known him for over two decades, had seen him in every possible light, from the awkward teen years to the confident adult he’d become. He was your best friend, and yet, as he stared at you now, his brow furrowed in mild confusion, you felt... different.

Your heart stuttered unexpectedly, a warmth creeping up your neck. This was Hongjoong - the same Hongjoong who stayed up late with you for endless movie marathons, who held your hand through your hardest days, who once got his head stuck in a fence when you were kids because he thought it’d make you laugh.

And yet, the man sitting in front of you now felt like someone else entirely. Not unfamiliar, but... new. There was a subtle intensity in his gaze, a quiet confidence in the way he held himself, as though life had refined him into someone you couldn’t quite place. It made you feel unsteady, like the Ferris wheel wasn’t the only thing off balance.

“Y/N? You still with me?” his voice broke through your clouded mind, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

“I-I’m fine,” you stammered, quickly sitting back in your seat.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he released a soft chuckle, his lips curving into a smile that seemed to tug a little too insistently at your chest.

This was bad. Very bad. Because the thoughts you were having weren’t the kind of thoughts you should be having about your best friend.

You forced yourself to breathe, pushing away these strange, unfamiliar thoughts. Shaking your head slightly, you turned your head. Your eyes scanned the Ferris wheel, quickly landing on the girls. Minseo and Yena were chatting away in their shared cart, seemingly unbothered by the sudden stop. Minseo had her phone out, and Yena was pointing to something on the screen, both of them laughing softly. You smiled a little. At least they were okay.

But then your gaze drifted to Hanbin’s cart.

And your stomach clenched.

Your son, who had looked so happy just moments ago, now looked anything but. His small hands were gripping the safety bar tightly, his knuckles white as his eyes darted around in pure panic. He was sitting stiffly, his legs drawn up slightly as though he were trying to make himself smaller than he actually was. Even from a distance, you could see how much he was shaking.

“Hanbin,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

Hongjoong followed your gaze, immediately becoming alarmed. “Crap,” he muttered under his breath.

“Hanbin!” you called, leaning as far as you could toward his cart without tipping over. “It’s okay, sweetheart! We’re right here!”

But Hanbin didn’t seem to hear you. His head was bowed now, his face buried in his hands. His little frame shook visibly, and your chest tightened at the sight.

Hongjoong leaned forward, trying to get his attention . “Hanbin, buddy, look at me! It’s okay! You’re safe!”

The boy’s head lifted slightly, and his tear-filled eyes locked onto Hongjoong. “I-I’m scared!” he cried, his voice breaking.

“It’s alright,” Hongjoong said. “I know it’s scary right now, but I need you to take a deep breath for me, okay? Can you do that?”

Hanbin hesitated. Then, he slowly nodded and closed his eyes. His small chest rose and fell unevenly, but it was a start.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying your best to stay composed. 

“Hanbin,” you shouted. “Uncle Hongjoong and I are right here. You’re not alone. We’re going to get down soon, I promise.”

“You promise, mommy?” Hanbin sniffled, his big, teary eyes looking back and forth between the two of you.

Hongjoong nodded firmly. “Absolutely. But until then, we need you to be brave, okay? I mean, you’re the bravest kid I know, right?”

Hanbin’s lip quivered, but he nodded slightly, wiping at his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Good job,” Hongjoong praised. “Just keep breathing like that, bud. We’re gonna be fine.”

You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing against Hongjoong’s arm. He didn’t pull away this time, his focus entirely on Hanbin. For a brief moment, you felt a wave of gratitude for him. Hongjoong had always been amazing with your son, but now, you realized just how close they really were. It would be impossible to imagine your children’s life without him in it.

As the Ferris wheel swayed slightly again, you tightened your grip on your seat. “We need to get him down,” you murmured, glancing at Hongjoong.

“We will,” he said. His jaw tightened as he scanned the park below, likely looking for the operator or a maintenance crew. “Look,” he pointed towards a few people gathering on the ground, “it seems like they're trying to solve it already.” 

You followed Hongjoong's gaze, spotting a group of workers in bright uniforms gathered near the base. They appeared to be discussing something, a few of them pointing up at the ride and gesturing animatedly. Relief washed over you, but it was fleeting. Hanbin was still up here, still scared and alone, and every passing second felt like an eternity.

“Hanbin,” you called again, “the workers are going to fix this soon, okay? Just hold tight, sweetheart.”

He nodded, yet still looked uneasy. His hands hadn’t left the safety bar, his small fingers clutching it like it was his lifeline.

“I’ve got an idea,” Hongjoong said suddenly. “Hanbin, do you remember that song we were singing in the car on the way here?”

Hanbin blinked, his tear-streaked face turning toward Hongjoong. “The silly one?”

“Exactly!” Hongjoong grinned. “How about we sing it now? You lead, and I’ll follow.”

Hanbin hesitated, clearly unsure.

“Come on, bud,” Hongjoong urged gently. “It’ll help take your mind off things. And I need you to help me remember the words, okay?”

You watched as your son’s little shoulders relaxed just a little. Then, although still hesitant, he began to sing.

“There’s a bear in the woods, and he’s wearing a hat...”

Hongjoong joined in immediately. “He’s got big, big shoes and a cat on his back...”

With each line, Hanbin’s voice grew steadier, and a small smile even managed to steal itself on his lips By the second verse, he was giggling at Hongjoong’s deliberately off-key singing, and you felt some of the tension in your chest ease.

You joined in, too, harmonizing as best as you could. Minseo and Yena, hearing the commotion, peeked out of their cart and started laughing.

“Dad, this is a terrible song!” Yena called as she and Minseo exchanged glances.

“It's amazing, thank you very much!” Hongjoong retorted, feigning offense as he continued singing with Hanbin.

For a few precious moments, everything around you seemed to disappear. Hanbin’s laugh was infectious, and even you couldn’t help but smile despite the circumstances.

“See?” Hongjoong said as the song ended, giving Hanbin a thumbs-up. “Told you you’re the bravest kid ever.”

Hanbin beamed, his earlier panic almost entirely gone. “I am, huh?”

“The bravest,” you agreed, your voice warm with pride.

Just then, the Ferris wheel gave another lurch. This time, instead of jolting to a stop, it began to move again - slowly, but steadily.

“It’s moving!” Minseo exclaimed, her voice filled with relief.

Hanbin’s eyes widened. “Are we getting down now?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” you said, your own relief evident in your voice. “We’re getting down.”

The descent felt excruciatingly slow, but eventually, the children's carts snd then yours reached the bottom. The ride operator opened the gate, and you practically leaped out, eager to feel the ground under your feet again.

“Hanbin!” you called, rushing to your son immediately. He jumped into your arms without hesitation, his small body clinging to you tightly.

“You did so good, baby,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so proud of you.”

Hongjoong crouched beside you, ruffling Hanbin’s hair. “Told you you were brave.”

Hanbin looked up at him, his eyes still a little red. “Thanks, Uncle Joong.”

“Anytime, bud,” Hongjoong said with a soft smile.

Minseo and Yena joined you shortly after, both girls looking relieved to see Hanbin was fine again. Luckily, they were almost completely unbothered by the whole ordeal.

After a while, Hongjoong stood up again and let out a sigh. “Alright, no more Ferris wheels today. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you said, still holding Hanbin close.

“Can we do the bumper cars instead?” Hanbin asked, his big eyes looking up at you.

You exchanged a glance with Hongjoong, both of you smiling.

“Bumper cars it is,” he said. The girls also agreed without hesitation. It seemed like none of you could say no to Hanbin right now.

“Pretty eventful day, huh?” Hongjoong said quietly, careful not to disturb the sleeping kids in the backseat. He shifted slightly, leaning his head against the window as you drove through the quiet streets.

“That’s one way to put it,” you replied, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “I’m still trying to figure out how Hanbin managed to hit me in the back of the head during that water gun game.”

Hongjoong chuckled. “That kid’s got good aim when it counts. Though I’m pretty sure Minseo was going for me the whole time.”

“Probably,” you said with a grin. “She told me earlier you were her ‘biggest threat.’ You should be honored.”

“Honored? I’m terrified,” he teased, leaning his head back. “She’s ruthless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a kid so determined to win.”

“She gets it from me,” you admitted, glancing over at him briefly. “I may have had a bit of a competitive streak when I was her age, remember?”

“‘May have’?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Remember when we sneaked out to the arcane the day we had that exam? You were so determined to beat me in every fucking game we stayed so much longer than we intended to!”

You laughed, shaking your head at that memory. “Guilty as charged, Mr. Kim.”

He just rolled his eyes, so you focused on the road again. Your thoughts drifted back to the rest of the day, and you smiled fondly.

After the Ferris wheel and the bumper cars, the kids had insisted on trying out the water guns game. Hanbin had been determined to win a prize, his small hands gripping the water gun tightly as he aimed at the moving targets. Despite his best efforts, it was Minseo who ended up winning, much to his dismay. She’d teased him mercilessly until Yena stepped in, offering to share the plush dolphin she’d won earlier, which made Hanbin so happy he didn't leave the poor girl alone the whole time.

Then there was the roller coaster, which had been Minseo and Yena’s idea. Hanbin had been hesitant at first, clutching your hand tightly as you all waited in line, but his nervousness quickly turned into excitement once the ride began. You could still hear the sound of his laughter as the cart climbed to the top of the track, followed by his delighted screams as it rushed down the steep drop. Minseo and Yena had their hands in the air the whole time, having the time of their lives, while you and Hongjoong tried your best not to get nauseous. By the time the ride was over, Hanbin was begging to go again.

And, of course, there was the faithful cotton candy fiasco. Hanbin had managed to get more of the sticky treat on his face than in his mouth, and Yena had accidentally dropped hers, resulting in a brief meltdown that was only solved when Hongjoong offered to share his. The sight of him holding a piece of pink fluff out to his daughter, being all dramatic he'd had to share, was one you’d never forget.

“Hey,” Hongjoong said suddenly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You’re smiling. What’s on your mind?”

“Hm? Just… the whole day, I guess,” you admitted. “The kids were so happy today.”

“They were,” he agreed, a huge smile on his face. “And you? Were you happy?”

You glanced over at him, surprised by the question. “I… yeah, I think I was. It’s been a while since I’ve felt that way. Hyunwoo didn't cross my mind once today, which is… good. Surprising, but good.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond right away, his gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. “You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I don’t think I thought about Minji once today, either.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the steering wheel tighter for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. “That’s a first, huh?” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “A good one.”

Neither of you said anything else after that. You focused on the road ahead, the familiar curve of the driveway to your holiday house coming into view. As you pulled in, the headlights swept across the front porch, casting soft light onto the porch. You parked and turned off the engine, plunging the car into silence.

You sat there for a moment, staring straight ahead, your hands still resting on the steering wheel. The only sound was the faint snoring of the kids in the backseat.

And then, before you could think twice about it, the words tumbled out of your mouth. “Sometimes, I wish I married you instead of Hyunwoo.”

The moment the words left your mouth, your breath caught in your throat, and your hands immediately tightened their grip on the steering wheel. It felt as though the world around you had frozen, the silence inside the car growing impossibly heavy. You didn’t dare look at Hongjoong, but you could feel his gaze on you - intense, and just as shocked as you felt.

You hadn’t meant to say it. You hadn’t even consciously thought about it until the words were out in the open, hanging between you like a live wire. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse so loud in your ears that it drowned out everything else. 

What the hell had you just done?

Hongjoong finally broke the silence, staring at you with wide eyes. “You… you wish you married me?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t indifferent, either. It was soft, uncertain, like he was trying to wrap his head around what you’d just admitted. And that made it even worse, because now you had to confront the weight of what you’d said - what you’d always been too afraid to acknowledge.

“I…” You swallowed hard, shaking your head slightly as you stared down at your lap. “I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean to- it just-” You stopped yourself, closing your eyes as you tried to organize the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions raging inside you.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel about it. For twenty years, you’d been with Hyunwoo. And yes, those years had been difficult -especially toward the end - but they hadn’t all been bad. There was a time when you’d loved him deeply, when you’d believed he was the person you were supposed to spend your life with. The early years of your marriage had been filled with so much laughter, passion, and the kind of love that made you feel like you could take on anything together.

But as the years passed, things had gradually changed. The love you’d once shared had been replaced by resentment and silence, by arguments that left you feeling more alone than ever. And yet, even then, you’d held onto the memories of what you used to have, convincing yourself that if you just tried hard enough, you could get it all back.

And through it all, through 20 years of life and hardships, there was Hongjoong. Your best friend, your confidant, the one person who seemed to understand you even when you didn’t understand yourself. He was always there. But you never let yourself think of him as anything more than a friend - not really. Maybe in your early teenage years you were crushing on him, but after that, you buried these thoughts deep within you. Because to admit that would have meant facing the fact that something was missing in your marriage. And you weren’t ready to face that. Not then.

But now… now you were free. And so was he. And suddenly, the barriers you’d spent so long building between you were starting to crumble.

“I loved Hyunwoo,” you said finally, your voice trembling slightly. “I did. At least… at the start, I did. I loved him enough to marry him, to build a life with him. But somewhere along the way, it just… it stopped working. And I tried so hard to fix it, to make it better, but-” You paused, letting out a shaky breath. “But I think, deep down, I always knew there was something missing.”

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, but you could feel him listening intently, just like he always did.

“And you…” You hesitated, finally forcing yourself to meet his gaze. His eyes were wide, vulnerable in a way you’d rarely seen. “You’ve always been there, Joong. Even when I didn’t deserve it. Even when I was too blind or too stubborn to see it. And I don’t know… I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if it means anything at all. But today, for the first time in years, I felt happy. Really, genuinely happy. And when I think about why…” You trailed off, your throat tightening as tears threatened to spill. “It’s you.”

You felt like you’d just stripped yourself bare in front of him. You didn’t know what you were expecting - anger, confusion, maybe even rejection - but what you saw in his eyes was none of those things.

Instead, there was a genuine smile on his face.

And maybe… just maybe… hope in his eyes.

“You’re not the only one who felt that today,” he said softly, his voice steady despite the heavy emotions in his eyes. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about you, since… since forever, if I’m being honest. But I never wanted to say anything because I didn’t want to ruin what we have. I didn’t want to make things harder for you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you could feel the tears slipping down your cheeks now, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back. “Joong…”

“Don’t cry,” he said gently, reaching out to brush a tear away with his thumb. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to absorb his words. His warmth, his love, it all made you feel like you could breathe again. 

But then, reality set in.

“I don’t… I don't think I’m ready,” you admitted, your voice trembling as the emotions began to spill out. “As much as I would like to… I just... Joong, I’ve never told you everything about how bad it really was… with Hyunwoo.”

His expression shifted, anger taking over his features, but he didn’t say anything, letting you speak at your own pace.

“I thought I could handle it, you know? At first, it wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t so bad. But over the years, it just… it wore me down. The way he spoke to me, the way he made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, like everything I did was wrong. And when he wasn’t yelling, it was worse. The silence, the distance, the way he looked at me like I was a burden he had to put up with. It broke me, Joong. He broke me...”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, trying to hold back the sob that was threatening to escape. But it was useless. The tears were flowing freely now, and you couldn’t stop them.

Hongjoong’s hand moved to cover yours, gently pulling it away from your face so he could see you fully. “You don’t have to explain everything now,” he said softly, his eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own. “But I’m here. I’m here to listen, whenever you’re ready.”

You nodded, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m still trying to figure it out, to pick up the pieces of who I used to be before him. And the kids… they need me to be strong for them, to focus on them. Especially now that Hyunwoo decided to completely ghost them. I don’t know if I can do this- if I can handle anything more. I’m scared, Joong. Scared of messing it all up again.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. “You didn’t mess anything up. He did. And you don’t have to figure it all out right now. There’s no rush, no pressure. I’ll wait, okay? As long as it takes. I’ll wait.”

The sincerity in his voice was almost too much to bear, and the guilt that had been clawing at your chest finally broke free. “I don’t deserve this,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” he said firmly, his hands cupping your face now, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You deserve so much more than what you’ve been given. And I’ll remind you of that every single day until you believe it.”

The dam inside you broke completely then, and you collapsed into his arms, sobbing against his chest. You cried for all the pain you’d endured, for the years you’d lost, for your children, for yourself.

Hongjoong held you through it all, his arms wrapped tightly around you without letting go of you. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to let go, to be vulnerable, knowing that he would catch you if you fell.

The sound of a small, groggy voice broke through the fragile bubble you and Hongjoong had created.

"Mommy?"

You pulled back from Hongjoong’s embrace quickly, wiping your cheeks with trembling hands. Turning toward the voice, you saw Hanbin rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Why are you crying?” he mumbled, and even though he was extremely tired he still looked worried.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him. Forcing a smile onto your face, you reached back to gently brush his hair out of his eyes.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” you whispered softly, your voice steady despite the lump still lodged in your throat. “Mommy just got a little emotional, that’s all. But everything’s fine.”

Hanbin blinked up at you, his small brow furrowing as if he wasn’t entirely convinced. His gaze flickered to Hongjoong for a moment, who offered him a reassuring smile and a gentle, “Your mom’s right, bud. Everything’s okay.”

That seemed to settle him, and he nodded sleepily, already leaning his head back against the car seat. “Okay…” he murmured, his eyes fluttering shut once more.

You let out a shaky breath, relief washing over you as his breathing evened out again. He had worn himself out so much it only took him a few seconds to fall asleep again.

Hongjoong reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get them inside.”

You nodded, unbuckling your seatbelt and stepping out of the car. The cool night air helped clear your mind a bit as you moved to open the back door. Hongjoong had already scooped Hanbin up into his arms, the boy barely stirring as he settled against him.

“I’ll grab Minseo,” you whispered, glancing over at your daughter, who was curled up in her seat with her head resting on Yena’s shoulder.

Hongjoong nodded and waited for you to unbuckle Minseo before he began carrying Hanbin toward the house. You gently shook Minseo awake, and her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy protest escaping her lips.

“Come on, sweetheart,” you said softly, helping her out of the car. “We’re home now. Let’s get you to bed.”

Minseo mumbled something incoherent but allowed you to guide her toward the house, her steps slow and heavy with exhaustion.

Once you got her inside and tucked into bed, you found Hongjoong already settling Yena under the covers on the pull out bed in the living room. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening as your eyes met.

“All good?” he asked quietly, his voice low to avoid waking the kids.

You nodded, leaning against the doorframe for a moment as you watched him adjust the blanket over his daughter. “Yeah. They’re out like lights.”

“Same here,” he said, stepping back from Yena’s bed and joining you in the hallway.

Quietly, you left, and then after changing and washing up, the two of you settled into your shared bed. It wasn’t the first time you’d shared this space, but tonight, it felt impossibly intimate.

Hongjoong turned slightly to face you, his head resting against the pillow as he studied you quietly. You mirrored his position, your bodies close enough that your knees brushed beneath the covers. His gaze was soft, tender in a way that made your heart ache.

Neither of you spoke at first, your eyes saying so much more than words ever could. Tentatively, your fingers reached out, brushing against his cheek before moving to trace the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw. His skin was warm beneath your touch, and he didn’t pull away. Instead, he lifted his hand to do the same, his fingers trailing along the delicate lines of your face as though he were memorizing every detail.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and the sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head slightly. “I think you might need your eyes checked.”

“I don’t,” he replied firmly, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I mean it.”

His words, his touch, they were overwhelming in the best way. For the first time in years, you didn’t feel the need to deflect, to argue against the kindness being offered to you. Instead, you let yourself lean into it, into him.

You talked about nothing in particular that night, and through it all, the two of you stayed close, your fingers occasionally grazing as you spoke.

It felt like peeling back layers, like rediscovering each other in a way you hadn’t allowed yourselves to before. The sound of his voice, the warmth in his gaze - it all felt like home.

But even as sleep began to claim you both, neither of you moved away. Your hands remained loosely clasped between you, a silent promise that whatever tomorrow might bring, tonight, you were exactly where you needed to be.

The rest of the week went by quickly.

One of the other highlights was a trip to a nature trail nestled on the outskirts of town. The path wound through towering trees seemed to engulf you fully. The kids ran ahead, giggling as they pointed out interesting flowers, squirrels darting up trees, and the occasional butterfly flitting across the path. Yena and Minseo took turns being the “trail guides,” holding a small map they’d gotten from the trail’s entrance and excitedly directing the group to scenic spots. 

And more often than not, the girls managed to get you all lost.

Hongjoong walked beside you, Hanbin perched on his shoulders after growing tired. “You’re taller than everyone now,” Hongjoong teased, and Hanbin let out a delighted squeal, spreading his arms like wings.

The hike led to a clearing where a stream ran through the woods, its water crystal clear. Yena and Minseo quickly shed their shoes to splash around, their laughter carrying through the forest. Hanbin joined them with a little help from Hongjoong, who rolled up his pants and stepped into the cool water with him. You sat on the bank, watching them and taking a few pictures of the scenery.

On your last day, the five of you visited a local berry farm for some hands-on fun. Buckets in hand, you and the kids wandered through rows of lush bushes heavy with ripe berries. Minseo and Yena turned it into a friendly competition, seeing who could pick the most, while Hanbin focused on eating the fruits as much as collecting them. Hongjoong stayed by his side, laughing at his enthusiasm and sneaking berries for himself when he thought no one was looking.

When everyone had their fill, you gathered under a shaded pavilion to rest. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, and all of you made yourselves comfortable on the picnic blankets you brought along, the kids started pointing out cloud shapes and sharing silly stories. Hongjoong stretched out beside you, his hand resting near yours, his thumb occasionally brushing your knuckles. It was a small, quiet moment, but it felt like the perfect end to a perfect day.

By the end of the week, everyone was pleasantly worn out, and when you packed up and left your holiday home, the children were already begging to come back next summer.

Now that you were back home, everyday life slowly returned. School had started again, and while Minseo was doing fine, Hanbin still needed your help here and there and so, everyday after work, you spent your time helping him with his homework and studies. 

That, of course, also meant that you didn’t see Hongjoong much right now. Because that's the only reason, and not that you were internally freaking out about your confession and what it would mean for your future. You couldn’t explain it - not fully - but the vulnerability you’d allowed yourself that night now felt like too much, too raw. So, little by little, you began to withdraw, telling yourself it was for the best.

It started with excuses. When he knocked on your door, asking if you and the kids wanted to join him and Yena for a simple dinner or a walk to the park, you’d smile apologetically, citing exhaustion from work or chores that couldn’t wait. You kept conversations at the threshold brief, always steering them toward neutral topics and away from anything personal.

You avoided lingering in shared spaces. The mornings when you’d normally sip coffee together on the porch turned into rushed cups at the kitchen counter, your eyes trained on the clock. Even in the evenings, when the kids played together in the backyard, you made excuses to stay inside, watching them from the window instead.

But Hongjoong noticed. Of course he noticed. His subtle attempts to meet your eyes lingered longer, and the warmth in his smile dimmed slightly when you looked away too quickly. He didn’t push, didn’t confront you, and that made the distance feel even heavier.

Minseo, after making up with Yena on the trip and also blissfully unaware of the undercurrent between you and Hongjoong, continued spending time with Yena as much as possible. 

It wasn’t that you wanted to pull away. If anything, every fiber of your being longed for the comfort of his presence, the steady assurance and love he offered without asking for anything in return. But that was what terrified you the most - that if you allowed yourself to lean on him too much, you might not find the strength to stand on your own again. And deep down, you feared that he might realize you weren’t as deserving as he insisted you were.

And so, for the first time since you had known Hongjoong, you let the walls between you grow taller. What you didn’t expect was just how much it would hurt.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the school bus arrived before your house. You adjusted Hanbin’s backpack, bending down to plant a kiss on his forehead before ushering him toward the bus. Minseo followed, waving to you briefly before stepping up onto the bus.

“Have a good day!” you called after them. Hanbin turned to wave one last time before disappearing inside.

Of course your gaze drifted - inevitably - toward the house next door. Yena was climbing onto the bus herself, her dark hair swishing as she waved to Hongjoong, who stood on his porch, hands in his pockets.

Your breath hitched slightly when your eyes met his. He didn’t smile, didn’t offer the soft warmth you were used to. Instead, there was something hard in his gaze, a frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw was tight, and though his stance was relaxed, there was no mistaking the tension in his shoulders.

You froze, uncertain whether to look away or acknowledge him. But he made the decision for you, stepping off his porch and striding toward your house with a deliberate calm that made your stomach twist.

“Good morning,” he said, his tone clipped. 

“Morning,” you replied, your voice barely audible. You took a half-step back, feeling cornered even though he stood a few feet away.

“Do you want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, cutting straight to the point. His gaze didn’t waver, and there was no softness in his expression now, just concern tinged with a mix of anger.

You swallowed hard, trying to muster an excuse, but the words caught in your throat. “I don’t know what you mean,” you said finally. You quickly glanced towards your front door. “I-I should really get to the dishes,” you stammered, taking a step back into your house. Your hand gripped the door, your knuckles white as you forced a tight smile. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Before he could respond, you shut the door firmly, the sound of it slamming echoing in the quiet of the morning. You didn’t wait, immediately turning toward the kitchen, heart racing as you tried to escape the weight of his gaze.

But before you could take more than a few steps, the door burst open behind you, and you froze in your steps.

“Seriously?” Hongjoong’s voice was sharp as the door clicked shut behind him again. His footsteps were heavy and fast as he strode into the house.

You spun around, your stomach twisting. “Hongjoong, I-”

“No.” He didn’t stop, didn’t falter as he crossed the space between you in a matter of moments. “You don’t get to slam the door in my face like that.”

“Hongjoong, please, I just-”

“No.” Hongjoong’s voice cut through the room like steel, his gaze unwavering as he stopped just a step away from you. “You don’t get to shut me out like that.”

“Hongjoong, please,” you said, voice trembling. “I just need space.”

He tilted his head, studying you. “Space?” His voice softened, and his eyes pleaded with you. “I promised I would wait, but you're completely avoiding me, Y/N!”

You didn’t answer, eyes darting to the floor as heat rose to your cheeks. The weight of his frustration was overwhelming, but what unnerved you the most was the love that was still so evident in his eyes despite his anger.

“Y/N,” he said, voice quieter now but no less firm. “I’m not going to let you do this. Not to yourself. Not to me.”

You tried to step around him, muttering something incoherent about really needing to finish the dishes. But before you could take another step, his hand shot out, fingers curling gently but firmly around your wrist.

“You want to do the dishes?” His voice dropped low, and your whole body shuddered. “Fine. Let’s do the dishes.”

Before you could protest, he guided you to the sink, standing close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. He released your wrist, his hands instead resting lightly on your waist, his fingers pressing into the softness there. You stiffened, but he didn’t move away.

"Go on," he said, his voice low. "Start washing."

Your hands trembled as you reached for a plate, the silence between you heavy. You couldn’t focus - the way he was standing behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his hands on your hips made you spiral.

His breath was warm against your ear as he leaned closer. His hands stayed firm on your waist, grounding you, but it was the brush of his lips against the side of your neck that made you freeze entirely.

“Hongjoong…” you whispered, your voice trembling. You weren’t even sure if it was a plea for him to stop or to continue.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he murmured softly, his voice low and steady. “I’ve always been here. But please, just talk to me…”

The tenderness in his tone broke something inside you. His lips grazed your neck again, this time lingering longer, and an involuntary shudder ran through you. You clenched the dish you were holding.

When he kissed just below your ear, a soft, choked sound escaped your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you let the plate fall back into the sink with a clatter, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

“Hey…” His voice was alarmed now, and his hands quickly moved to your shoulders, turning you around to face him. The tears spilling down your cheeks made his expression soften, his anger dissolving into concern. “Y/N, talk to me.”

You wiped at your face quickly, embarrassed, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry,” you managed, shaking your head. “I just- I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to let you in without ruining everything.”

He frowned, his hands cupping your face gently. “You’re not going to ruin anything. Why do you think that?”

A shaky laugh escaped you, more bitter than you intended. “Because we’ve been friends for over twenty years, Hongjoong. What if we mess this up? What if we can’t go back to being… us? I can’t lose you, too.”

His thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks, his gaze unwavering. “Y/N, we’ve survived every other challenge life has thrown at us. We’ll survive this, too. I want to be with you, and that feeling will never stop.”

You wanted to believe him, you really did. 

He studied your face for a long moment, his gaze softening. “There’s something else bothering you, right?” His voice was gentle, coaxing. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You felt the lump in your throat tighten, threatening to choke you. 

“It's… it's actually so dumb,” you laughed bitterly, but Hongjoong immediately shook his head. 

“Is this about Hyunwoo? What did he tell you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “Whatever it is he put on you. Whatever he made you believe about yourself.” His hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly. “I’m telling you, Y/N, he was wrong.”

“Hongjoong,” you whispered, gripping the edge of the counter, “you don’t understand-”

“No, I think I do.” His voice was rough, but his touch gentle as he leaned closer. “Don’t think about him. Don’t let him take up another second of your thoughts. He doesn’t know how to appreciate a real woman.”

You froze at his words, tears prickling at your eyes. Of course he immediately knew what you were thinking about. “I’m not... I’m not who I was 20 years ago, Hongjoong. I’m not-”

“Of course you’re not,” he interrupted, his hands squeezing your full hips. “You’re not supposed to be. You’re a woman. A damn beautiful one, for fuck’s sake.”

His words broke something inside you, a sob escaping before you could hold it back. He didn’t hesitate, pulling you against him as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if he could shield you from every doubt, every insecurity that had ever plagued you.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” he murmured against your temple. “You’re enough, just as you are. And I swear to you, I’ll spend as long as it takes proving that to you.”

“I'm sorry for being so childish,” you mumbled into his chest, which made him chuckle a little.

“It's fine. Just don't do it again, okay? Also,” he took a step back, and you immediately missed his arms around you, “we don't have to make anything official yet. It's just you and me. No labels matter, because they won't even come close to describe the love I have for you anyways.”

“I want to take care of you,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you. We have a few hours until the children are back. Do you… I mean… if you want, of course-”

God, the way he was struggling for words made you break out into laughter, which in turn made his entire face turn a deep shade of red. You took his hand, squeezing it carefully. 

“I… I feel better now that I told you. So, if you want…”

-Of course I want!”

You giggled. “Then… bedroom?”

He didn't even nod, just pulled you out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into your bedroom. As soon as the door closed behind him, he wrapped his arms around you again, this time more possessively, as if he wanted to make sure no one else would be able to see you or touch you.

His hands cupped your face, and then his lips were on yours. It was a kiss that held more promises than a thousand words.

It was the kind of kiss that made you feel safe and loved, and it was the kind of kiss that made the doubts you had previously had about him dissipate instantly.

Hongjoong kissed you as if his life depended on it, and the way his tongue moved against yours made a shiver run down your spine.

“Do you have any toys?” He suddenly asked. 

“H-huh?” You blushed, remembering the hidden box of unused toys you indeed had but never used, because Hyunwoo never wanted to. And after your divorce, you kind of forgot about it anyway.

“I- well, I do. But-”

He didn't let you finish. Instead, he grabbed your hand and led you to the bed, where he made you sit.

“You can just tell me, and I'll bring them here. I'll show you how much fun it can be.”

Your stomach twisted nervously, and you looked down, your cheeks burning.

“Y/N,” he carefully said, kneeling down before you. “I want to worship you. I want to use the toys on you if you'd like that. So, tell me, do you want me to use them on you?”

You swallowed hard, still unable to look up.

“Y/N, hey,” he said softly, taking your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We can wait, we don't have to-”

“N-no,” you quickly said, looking up and into his eyes. “It's not that I don't want to. I'm just a bit scared, and also-”

“Scared?” His brow furrowed. “Why would you be scared, darling?”

“Because I've never used them. I-I don't know how they work. Or-”

He gave a little smile. “I'll show you. I'm sure it'll be a lot of fun."”

“I-okay…”

“You're sure?”

"Y-yeah."

Hongjoong placed a soft kiss on your forehead, then got up and left the room. You watched him, biting your lower lip nervously.

When he came back, he had your big, white box in his hands, and his grin widened as he opened it.

“I see, my girl likes plugs, hm?”

You blushed, looking away again. “I've never tried them.”

“But you would like to try it, right?”

You nodded slowly, and the next thing you knew, Hongjoong was straddling your lap.

“Do you want to try them right now, babygirl?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and the pet name made heat pool in your stomach.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Good,” he breathed, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your neck. “Now, I'd love to see you try these. Which ones do you think you'll like the most, sweetheart?”

You didn't know what to say, so you pointed to a pink plug, and Hongjoong smiled.

“That looks like a good one. We'll use this, and this,” he reached for a vibrator. “I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun.”

With a quick movement, he took your shirt off, and you were suddenly very aware of the fact that you hadn't worn a bra today.

“Fuck, you're so hot,” Hongjoong murmured, his gaze hungrily roaming your body. 

“'M not,” you murmured, “I gained too much weight…”

He silenced you with a kiss. “You're beautiful,” he said, his hand resting on your thigh. “And I can't wait to make you feel good.”

With that, he stood up again, and walked towards the bedside table. “Is your lube in here?”

You nodded shyly. “It is.” Hongjoong opened the drawer quickly and pulled out said bottle of lube.

“You can relax now,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you, darling.”

 He helped you lie down, and then started working your pants open. Soon, you were only wearing your panties, and Hongjoong couldn't keep his eyes off your curves.

“Fuck, I love your body,” he breathed. “You're so fucking sexy, Y/N.”

You flushed, biting your lip. “Really?”

“Of course. I thought you were pretty when we were 16, but now... you're so much more than that.”

His hand brushed along your side, making you shudder. Hongjoong started to trail soft kisses down your body. Your belly, your hips, and finally, the waistband of your panties.

“Can I take these off?”

You nodded again, and he pulled your underwear down slowly.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “You're dripping already, aren't you, princess?”

“I-i’m so wet for you,” you whined, and his eyes lit up.

“So needy already, babygirl.”

He pushed your legs apart, his thumb brushing along your slit, and the sensation made you gasp.

“You're so sensitive,” he said, “I love it.”

He started rubbing slow circles on your clit, and you could feel the heat building up in your stomach already.

“Are you already close, babygirl?”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Well, don't hold back,” he murmured, leaning down.

And then, his tongue was on your clit, making you moan. You could feel his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, and his hand moved down to tease at your entrance.

“Fuck, Hongjoong, please,” you whined.

“So needy,” Hongjoong purred. “Do you want my fingers, sweetheart?”

“Please!”

“What's the magic word?” You blushed at his dirty words. Hearing him talk like that for the first time did some unspeakable things to you.

“P-please, Hongjoong, I want your fingers!”

You were rewarded with two of his fingers entering you, and you moaned at the stretch.

“O-oh, fuck,” you gasped.

“You're doing so well,” he murmured, starting to thrust his fingers into you.

His mouth went back to sucking on your clit, his tongue lapping at the sensitive nub. He kept fingerfucking you, his fingers hitting just the right spot, and soon, you felt the familiar feeling building up in your core. You haven't had an orgasm in so long, so it was overwhelming you in the best way possible. 

“You can cum for me, princess,” Hongjoong encouraged, his tongue swirling around your clit. “Cum for me, Y/N.”

You moaned loudly, your back arching as your orgasm washed over you.

He didn't stop his movements, and you whined at the overstimulation. 

“Come on, babygirl,” Hongjoong said. “Cum for me once more. You can do that for me, can't you?”

“I-i can't, please!” You cried out, and he started fingering you even harder, his tongue still teasing your clit.

“That's it, Y/N,” he breathed. “Cum for me, baby.”

The sensation was overwhelming, and soon, you felt another orgasm building up, and you moaned, throwing your head back as pleasure washed over you once more.

Hongjoong pulled his fingers out, making you whimper.

“Are you alright, princess?” He asked softly.

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath.

“How about we use the toys now, hm?”

He grabbed the pink plug, and poured some lube onto it.

“Can you stay on all fours for me, darling?”

You nodded, turning around and getting on all fours.

“Look at you, being such a good girl for me,” Hongjoong murmured, and the praise made a shiver run down your spine.

On one hand, it was weird hearing your best friend of 20 years say such filthy things to you, but on the other hand... it was kind of hot.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?”

“Please.”

You felt the cool plug teasing your entrance, and the tip slowly slid into you.

“How does that feel?”

“G-good,” you gasped.

“Tell me if it's too much, okay?”

“I will.”

“You're doing so well,” he breathed. “Do you want me to fuck you with it?”

“Y-yes,” you gasped.

“Good.”

Hongjoong started pushing the plug deeper into you, and the sensation made you moan. The toy was bigger than his fingers, and it stretched you open deliciously.

“Do you like that, princess?”

“So fucking good,” you moaned. “B-but... I wanna do something for you too, Joongie. Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice low and rough. "”What do you have in mind?”

You bit your lip. You were embarrassed, but you needed him. You wanted to pleasure him.

“I wanna suck you off.”

He all but whined at that, and a deep blush crept up his neck.

You crawled off the bed, and Hongjoong sat down on the edge, his hands immediately running through your hair.

“You don't have to, Y/N. This is supposed to be about you.”

“I know. But I want to.”

Hongjoong's breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded.

“O-okay.”

You got down on your knees before him, and you started working his jeans open. His bulge was straining against his underwear, and you couldn't help but feel flattered that you did that to him.

“You're so hard,” you mumbled, and Hongjoong let out a groan.

“I won't last long,” he warned.

“It's fine,” you giggled.

You pulled his boxers down, and his erection sprung free, and god, it was definitely bigger than you'd imagined. Because yes, you did think about your best friend's dick before.

“Are you really sure?”

“Oh, I definitely am.”

With that, you leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he panted. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

You swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, and Hongjoong's grip on your hair tightened.

“Goddamn it,” he breathed. “D-don't stop.”

You started bobbing your head, sucking harder as you did. You felt Hongjoong's grip on your hair tighten, and the sounds he was making only spurred you on.

“So good, Y/N, just like that,” he moaned, and his praises only encouraged you more. You sucked harder, taking him deeper into your mouth, and you heard him moaning louder.

“I-I'm gonna cum, baby,” he gasped. “Where do you want me to cum?”

You couldn't reply, so instead, you just kept bobbing your head. You sucked him harder and harder, and then, you felt him twitch inside your mouth.

“Y/N!”

He came with a moan, and you swallowed all of it, the salty taste lingering on your tongue.

Hongjoong's grip on your hair relaxed.

“Fuck, Y/N, that was amazing,” he gasped.

You gave him a smile, and stood up.

“Did I make you feel good?” You asked, and Hongjoong grinned.

“Fuck yes you did.” Hongjoong leaned toward the bed, grabbing the vibrator. “Let's have some more fun with this, yeah? After all,” he looked at the clock and smirked, “the kids won't be home for a few more hours.”

24th of december, 2024.

The smell of cookies and gingerbread filled the air, the Christmas lights twinkled, and the golden ornaments were shimmering in the warm glow.

Hanbin and Yena were sitting on the floor, playing with the new dolls Hanbin had gotten for Christmas. Minseo was lounging on the couch, listening to music, and Hongjoong was helping you in the kitchen.

You couldn't help but smile to yourself, watching how Yena was listening intensely to Hanbin explaining to her how she should play with the new toys. You didn't even mind that they were a little too loud, and the sound of their voices blended with the music coming from Minseo's phone, creating a comfortable and cozy atmosphere.

“They're so cute,” Hongjoong said, handing you a mug of cocoa, “almost like real siblings.”

“I know,” you smiled, taking a sip.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, and kissed the top of your head.

It had been an intense few months. A lot of things had changed; of course, there was your relationship with Hongjoong, going from lifelong friends to partners. 

You had told the kids pretty early on, and they had taken it surprisingly well. You had expected more confusion and maybe some questions, but in the end, all three of them had been delighted. Minseo's response had been a simple shrug, stating she already knew, which made you laugh. And Hanbin was already telling everyone who would listen that he now had two sisters.

But unfortunately, these had been the only good news for the kids. By now, their father had completely cut contact with the children after ghosting them the whole summer. You still remembered how Minseo and Hanbin broke down as you had to tell them, crying in your arms for hours and hours on end. His complete disappearance over the summer had left a hole in the kids' hearts that was hard to fill, and the court battle that followed only seemed to make everything worse. You could still hear their voices in your head - the way Hanbin had asked, tearfully, if he'd done something wrong to make his father leave, or how Minseo, after months of letting her anger out on you and refusing to open herself, had quietly broken down, asking what it was that made her father stop loving her. Those were the moments that hurt the most, when you couldn’t find the right words to reassure them.

It was clear Hyunwoo wanted nothing to do with his responsibilities, as if he was trying to sever all ties, not just with you, but with his children as well. His refusal to pay any child support only added salt to the wound, a constant reminder of how little he cared. The court proceedings felt like they stretched on endlessly, but it was the emotional toll on Minseo and Hanbin that made everything feel worse. You tried to keep it together for them, but there were days when you just didn’t know how to shield them from the hurt any longer.

And then there was Hongjoong’s side of things, which wasn’t any easier. Though Minji had remained in contact with Yena, it wasn’t without its complications. Yena had always looked up to her mother, but since the truth came out about her affair Yena’s world had been turned upside down. Every time Yena visited her mother, she couldn't stay long, because seeing her mother with that man she had hurt her father with hurt her a lot. And though Minji tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy, the tension between them never completely faded away.

Hongjoong's lips found their way to yours, and you sighed into the kiss. 

“You're thinking about something negative again,” he murmured. “Its Christmas, Y/N. You and the kids should be happy today.” 

You smiled, stealing another quick kiss from him. Just a few years earlier, you had never thought about kissing your best friend, but it had turned out to be one of the best things you'd ever experienced. He was so gentle, and his touch always sent shivers down your spine.

“I know,” you whispered against his lips, still savoring the warmth of his kiss. “It’s just hard not to think about everything, you know? Especially when I see the kids still hurting so much.”

Hongjoong nodded, his hands resting gently on your waist. “I get it,” he murmured, “but today is about us. The kids are happy, we’re happy. Let's just celebrate today.”

Then, Hanbin’s voice caught both your attention. “Mom! Uncle Hongjoong!” He called out, looking up from the dolls as his little face lit up. 

You exchanged a smile with Hongjoong before both of you headed toward the kids. They were gathered around the tree, eagerly waiting for you both to join them. Hanbin was bouncing on his heels, his small hands clutching something behind his back, while both Yena and Minseo exchanged glances with each other.

“What’s going on, little man?” Hongjoong asked, kneeling down beside Hanbin. The little boy grinned wide, clearly too excited to wait any longer.

“Close your eyes!” Hanbin instructed, and Hongjoong and you exchanged amused looks before doing as told. Both of you waited in silence as Hanbin scurried to the side, the rustling of paper and soft giggles filling the air.

"Okay, open them!" Hanbin’s voice rang out, and you opened your eyes to see him holding a small, carefully wrapped box. Minseo stood beside him, and she had a shy, almost nervous smile on her face as well.

Hongjoong blinked in surprise as he took the box, lifting it gently and peeling back the wrapping. It was a small, hand-painted mug with a simple design - stars and a moon. The kind of mug that felt like it belonged to a cozy winter morning, a mug that would hold the warmth of tea or cocoa on chilly days.

“This is for you, Uncle Hongjoong,” Hanbin said proudly, looking up at him with bright eyes. Yena added, almost quietly, “Thank you for always taking care of Mom and us.”

It was clear that Hongjoong was caught a little off guard. He hadn’t expected anything, and the unexpected kindness from your kids left him momentarily speechless. It was clear that, while they hadn’t yet made a full leap into calling him “Dad,” they had built a bond so much deeper - something that felt like a real family, even if it wasn't your stereotypical one.

Hongjoong took the mug from Hanbin, and embraced both Minseo and Hanbin in a long hug. “Thank you, both of you,” he said. “This means a lot to me.” He looked at you for a moment, his expression tender, before continuing. “You guys are so special to me.”

Yena stood off to the side, quietly watching the exchange between Hongjoong and her new siblings. Her hands were clasped together, fingers wringing nervously as she looked down at the floor for a moment. But as Hongjoong and your kids still continued to talk quietly, she stepped forward, holding something small and neatly wrapped in her hands.

You noticed her then, the soft hesitation in her movements, the way she was trying to come put of her shell. With a gentle smile, you beckoned her closer. "What do you have there, Yena?" you asked.

Yena hesitated, her gaze flicking between you and the others before she stepped forward, placing the small gift in your hands. "I... I wanted to give this to you," she murmured, her voice soft, almost as if she was unsure of your reaction.

You smiled, genuinely touched by her effort, and carefully peeled away the wrapping. Inside was a small, handmade bracelet - delicate and simple, with a charm that resembled a heart and stars hanging from it. It was something you could tell Yena had put a lot of time into making, something personal that she was choosing to give to you.

"It's beautiful, Yena," you said, your heart swelling with affection as you gently took her hand in yours, running your fingers over the bracelet. "Thank you."

Yena's cheeks flushed a little at your words, but there was a small, shy smile tugging at her lips. She looked down at her feet for a moment before her voice broke through the silence once again, this time quieter than before. "I know I don't call you Mom," she started, her words carefully chosen. "And I don't know if I ever will. But I... I want you to know that I'm really happy you're here with us. And that you make Dad happy." She paused, then added, her voice just barely above a whisper, "I love you."

You reached out, pulling her into a hug. Tears prickled in the corner of your eyes, but you blinked them away, a huge smile stealing itself on your lips. Your heart was so full of love it hurt, because you had no idea what to do with so much happiness. 

"I love you too, Yena," you whispered. "And I'm so grateful that we're all together. We may not have started out the way others would have, but this... this is our family now."

You felt her arms tentatively wrap around you, her body slightly stiff at first, but she didn’t pull away. 

Yena stayed in your embrace for a moment longer, her body relaxing into yours as you stood into your living room. You pulled back, smiling at the way she held onto you.

You caught Hongjoong standing nearby, watching the two of you with a fond smile.

“I’m so happy right now,” you whispered, your heart full of emotion as you looked around at the children. “This feels perfect.”

Hongjoong took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It is," he agreed quietly.

"Come on, let's get a family photo!" Minseo called from the couch, her phone already in hand. Hongjoong, still holding the mug from Hanbin, stood beside you, his arms sliding around your waist. Hanbin jumped up, his little hands tugging at Yena’s sleeve as he excitedly pulled her to the center, his energy contagious. The kids huddled close, everyone laughing and joking as they found their places for the picture.

Minseo stepped forward, positioning herself just behind Hanbin, her phone held high to capture the moment. Hongjoong's arms were firmly around your waist as he stood beside you, his eyes never leaving you, and your heart fluttered at his eyes so full of love

Minseo grinned from behind her phone, adjusting the camera. “Okay, okay, everyone! Say cheese!”

Before anyone could respond, Hongjoong leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The photo snapped just at that moment, and the last thing you heard was Hanbin’s “Ugh, not again!” as you smiled at the man you thought you’d never end up with, feeling a sense of peace settle over you – like you’d finally found what you didn’t even know you were looking for in the arms of someone who had always been a part of your life, yet somehow, never felt right until now.

[revelboo]

Oh damn!! Mind if I just explode into particles about the latest Circuits and Wires??

BOOM!! 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💕💕💕💕💕

I love it so much

Wheeljack’s always been a favorite, just that optimism that’s undiminished no matter how many times his projects literally blow up in his face.

Also: Let’s see how many of these I can update in a day

Circuits and Wires Pt 10

Wheeljack x Reader

• Shifting to sit curled up in his lap, you’re aware of him shifting his arm as if wanting to touch and not sure where is okay. Biting into the inside of your cheek as he struggles, you reach back and pull his arm around you, pressing his big hand against your hip and feeling him shiver under you. Because one of you is going to have to be assertive and you’re almost positive it’s not going to be him. Reaching for his other hand, you pull it to you and play with his servos, fingertips tracing over the softer metal mesh at the inside of his wrist as you lay your head against him.

• You’re so soft and warm against him, he wants to tip your head up. Explore your soft mouth and let his hands wander. Would you let him? Optics dim, he doesn’t dare try to find out. Too afraid of being rejected or ruining this. Glossa sliding against his bottom lip remembering the feel of your mouth on his, he flexes his servos when you run your fingertips against the inside of them. And you look up at him, head against his shoulder. Slowly, he presses his palm to yours, intertwining his servos with your fingers, the difference in how much smaller your little hands is, shocking. Even mass displaced, you’re so delicate compared to him. And a part of him thrills at that difference.

• Breath catching as you stare at your hand trapped in his much bigger one and feel the servos of the hand on your hip flex against you. Making you wonder what those big hands would feel like on you. “I keep thinking I’m going to break you,” he says, vocal indicators flickering mauve. Embarrassed? About breaking you? Why would he even-oh. Heat spilling through you, his awkwardness twists, takes on a new meaning. Not even sure how that would work between you two. Though, those big fingers could be put to use. And now the thought is there as your face heats.

• Head ducking against him as he catches a glimpse of how red your face just got, he frowns. “I promise you won’t break me,” you mutter, avoiding looking at him as your fingers squeeze his. Venting, he absently rubs against your hip and rests his chin on top of your head. Loving the feel of you against him and not quite believing that he’s allowed this much.

• “I hope not. I like having you around,” he says as you cringe. Because nope. It’s going right over his handsome, dense head unless you spell it out for him. Maybe he’d hadn’t meant it that way after all. And asking about it? Bluntly telling him that you’re interested in him that way? You’d rather curl up and die of embarrassment right now. So you’re right back to square one, you too shy and him too damn oblivious.

Previous

I am all motors and gadgets

Organically designed to last a finite length of time

Locked in this rotary motion, the wheel spins round and round

I comprehend it all but still can't make a sound

I know there's something wrong within my faulty brain

I lack the proper behavior

My temper-addled tongue can't seem to force it out

The words that linger inside me

Can't speak, can't speak, can't speak at all

Don't even think you know the reason

Can't speak, can't speak, can't speak at all

Don't even try to understand

I am all circuits and wires

Conducting symphonies of heat exchange energies

My temper-addled tongue can't seem to force it out

The words that linger inside me

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Hello, how are you? Can I ask, in which Jason finds a fissure and enters it without thinking and comes out straight into a sculpture shop, where Reader is the one who creates them (Reader creates a crush and sees Jason as a muse), but in Reader's universe it is an ancient time, even though it is in the same year as Jason's universe, (reader flirts awkwardly)? Anguished ending? And sorry for being long, I got very happy.

You Are My Muse

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 2.3 K summary: Jason finds his way to you (through accident) warnings: sassy jason, no y/n used, lore, fluff, reader's universe is the same as ours but without brainrot, angst a/n: (divider: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more) kind of fucked up the flirting part, but I still hope you enjoy....... (i'm so sorry this took so long)

»Why‘s my nose so big?«

»It‘s not!«

»Okay, so why do I feel insecure now?« It‘s the first thing Jason notices once he sees a head sculpture of himself, staring right back at it. His nose doesn‘t look that big, he just doesn‘t want to admit that this looks exactly like him.

And now that he got here, he can‘t escape. Maybe, walking through a mysterious fissure, in the middle of his walk, wasn‘t his best decision, but he believes he had worse. Now, he is stuck in some sort of art studio with countless of sculptures, sketches and your so-called 'drafts‘ sitting around.

You were surprised at first, scared even. Of course you would be, if your own creation — suddenly a breathing human-being — comes out of the shadow. Everyone else would be scared too. But now, after double checking that you aren‘t dreaming, you are talking to him and start to grow frustrated. You didn‘t think you created such confident, even cocky, person. Even if it doesn‘t come off as insulting, it starts to make you annoyed.

»Okay, how about you try to make one yourself? It takes a lot of time to master such art, let alone get the material for it.« He cocks his head, taking in the other creations around the big room; ignoring your challenge.

»Is that my brother— is that Dick?«

Jason gestures at one head sculpture not too far away from the both of you, making you turn your attention to it as well.

»Oh, yes. I also have your whole family here, but… as you see, I like creating you the most.« You become lightly flustered at the end. He doesn‘t notice, instead, he keeps staring at the creations.

»How‘d you manage to do that? How do you even know us?« This question makes you pause, but you quickly compose yourself.

»I… created you? I‘m your creator?« You answer back, being unsure yourself. But it makes sense that he is confused. So are you.

»What do you mean ‚created‘? What the hell is this?«

»My sculpture shop.«

»Yeah, but… okay, let me calm down for a minute.« Jason sits down at one of the stools and takes a deep breath, staring around your creations a little longer. It‘s definitely well-made and detailled, and his brain is finally starting to catch up.

»I can make you… a hot chocolate, if you‘re stressed.«

He glances back at you, snapping out of his thoughts and processes your offer. Jason shrugs, eventually leaving the decision up to you. You take his silent shrug as a yes and exit the room to make him something warm to drink.

Turns out, Jason loves hot chocolate. Although you‘re not sure if he was just thirsty or genuinely likes it, or was simply stress drinking. Either way, he complimented it before being seemingly more calm about the situation.

You settled him inside your apartment, living with him together from now on. It wasn‘t long until Jason finally notices the subtle differences in your universe. In here, there are no phones, no social media and most importantly, no electricity. Somehow, you still speak his language and even use those stupid slangs his younger brother Tim uses to annoy him.

»What do you mean you ‘don‘t know what gossip girls are‘? It‘s like...« my favourite show, he wants to say, but holds back, »The best piece of media!« Jason manages out, still bewildered that someone like you has no clue about such a show.

You simply shrug with your shoulders, keeping your confused gaze on him. He eventually gives up, waving it off with a huff.

»We have some catch up to do once we get back to my universe.«

Since you made him settle in the next room to yours, and have thin walls, you can hear about almost everything. The sheets rustles to the soft cries that are heard from his room after a nightmare. It doesn‘t seem like he wants to talk about it as well, after attempting to approach him about it one day. You respect his boundaries, that he doesn‘t want to share his vulnerable side, especially since you don‘t each other that well yet. Ironic, considering he is pratically your own creation among many others.

Sighing out, you exit your bedroom and make a sweet tea for the both of you.

Soft knocks are heard from the other side of his door, making him still in his bed. Jason wipes the silent tears off his cheeks, already irritated about the interruption. Nevertheless, he opens his door and blinks a few times at you.

There you stand, two mugs of tea that are steaming hot. The sweet scent reaches his nose, making him less annoyed.

»I told you not to bother.« He mumbles out, running a hand though his sweaty locks, but feels reluctant to close the door again.

»Still… at least let me make you less stressed,« you shrug, carefully saying your next words, »I can hear everything in my room anyway...«

Jason pauses before he nods and takes one of the hot mugs from you. You can make out the faintest smile on his face, deciding to ignore it and take a sip of your tea.

Nights like these evolved into laying next to each other in comfortable silence or sharing the story of his previous nightmare. It was one the things Jason cherished, while being stuck in this universe. He didn‘t go out as much in this universe, not daring to see any more of the differences between your universe and his.

He often enjoys his time at your art studio or even cooks something up in your kitchen out of boredom. Without any entertainment, he has to do something without his beloved phone and books. That‘s why he usually hangs out with your sculptures and sometimes even makes some small ones himself. You thought him an easy technique to sculpt small stuff and he has been trying to master it since then. There‘s already a wobbly symbol of his second persona – Red Hood. He even painted it the according colour and makes sure it stays next to his head sculpture.

You notice the big effort he puts into his small creations, smiling lightly to yourself whenever you spot another one of his silly works. While he mostly gets to bore himself all day, you work in your studio and go about your day, collecting more material and ideas. Often times than not, Jason simply watches you work, admiring the way you casually sculpt one of his brothers as if it‘s the most normal thing on earth. He still needs to get a grasp on the technique of it all, so far it‘s all magic to him.

»How do you do all that without any reference?« Jason wonders from his stool on the other side of the studio, head tilted to one side.

»I do have some… look.«

You shrug and step up to your work desk, fishing out a larger sketchbook and hand it to him. »It‘s all there.«

He grabs the sketchbook and sits back down on his spot, starting to flip through the pages. His eyes study the flawlessly drawn faces and poses of each person, recognising them right away.

There‘s Damian taking care of animals and training with his Katana, or Dick doing crazy acrobatics.

Each page reveals new poses and facial expressions, but what he notices is the sheer amount of his sketched faces. He doesn‘t speak up about it yet, continuing to look through them. The next page shows him, in a full body pose, revealing his scarred skin and muscles on full display. Jason clears his throat and shifts in his seat, taking in further details of it. The autopsy scar, clear as day, making him suddenly very self-conscious about it. After flipping to the next page, he is greeted with yet another naked portait of himself, this time striking a pose that emphasizes his muscles. Finally, he decides to get up and spook you.

»What‘s this? Just references?« He comes up behind you, his deep voice ringing just behind your ear. You glance behind your shoulder, spotting the sketches in his hands. Your face drops briefly before composing yourself, letting out a light chuckle.

»Oh, this? Yeah, just references. Nothing else, just… admiring your pretty body.« Now it‘s Jason‘s turn to be caught off guard for a second. His cheeks flush, but he stays composed.

»Yeah? Well, then… if it‘s just references of me and my pretty body...« He teases back, smirk playing on his lips as he steps off.

You try to think of how to flirt more with him, even if it means getting to say stupid stuff and teasing each other like idiots. So, you step off your current creation and disappear behind a curtain, where the bigger scluptures sit around. You carefully put one out into the studio, making sure not to accidentally trip and shatter it into pieces as you do.

The sculpture is Jason, body naked and striking the same pose as the last sketch. His muscles look tense and well defined, his scars looking more prominent in the light. Jason pauses and takes in the copy of himself, naked on full display and looking gorgeous. Even better than the real thing, he thinks.

You cross your arms proudly and take in his reaction, a smirk on your face as you present it to him.

Finally, he reacts and clears his throat, nodding in acknowledgement.

»No need to show off, nerd...« He mumbles out, clearly flustered over the statue.

A week went by and Jason grows frustrated over the fact that he can‘t seem to find a way back to his own home. He desperately tried to search for some fissure in your studio which he came through in the first place, but he couldn‘t find it. You can feel the frustrated energy in your whole apartment, being able to grasp onto it. Jason stands off the couch, walking into the kitchen to cook his mood away. You follow him shortly after, settling against the counter as you watch him prepare the ingredients.

You don‘t speak up yet, waiting for him to start cooking and figure out what he is making. Jason starts to cut up various vegetables, deciding to help him. You grab another cutting board for yourself and get the other paprike from him, starting to slice it up like he does. Jason stays silent as he works, focused on not being too rough on the vegetables and accidentally stab himself in the process.

Eventually, he lays his knife down and gets a pan from one of the shelves, knowing your kitchen like the back of his hand by now. He starts to throw the diced stuff into the pan, putting on the heat on the stove. You add the rest into it, silently following what he‘s doing.

Jason leans his hands on the edge of the counter, waiting for the pan to start heating up. A heavy sigh leaves him, watching how his lids close slowly.

»You know, I don‘t need your help.«

»But I want to.« You answer back with a light smile, hoping to ease the mood. Jason, however, doesn‘t seem to be affeceted much by it. Instead, he finally looks at you, eyes locking with yours. Your expression softens and you give him space, understanding that he is under stress.

Jason bites his inner cheek before he takes a step closer, wrapping you up in a hug; sighing out shakily against your shoulder. You didn‘t expect it but reciprocate the hug, gently caressing his back with your palm. He stays close, lightly swaying you both from side to side and tightens his hold around you.

Jason doesn‘t want to leave. At least not without you. But he won‘t say those words out loud, preffering to keep it to himself.

The vegetables in the pan start sizzling, making him let go of you and return back to cooking. You sigh out softly and stick by his side, continuing to watch him cook a meal for the both of you.

The evening stays cozy between the two of you, eating the warm meal before you settle into your respected rooms.

You shriek up at night, cold sweat running over your back. You jerk up again as you hear something shatter in the next room. Quickly, you scatter to your feet and exit your room, trying to find the cause for the loud sound. Outside, there‘s two white slits staring back at you, making you pause and stay still. Your first instinct is to call for Jason, find safety in his presence, but no words are coming out of your throat.

Luckily, you don‘t have to call him, as he walks out of his bedroom already. Jason also stops once he notices the dark figure in front of you and tenses briefly. Seems like he knows them, considering the way he takes a few steps forward and shields you from the darker figure.

»We have to go home, the portal only lasts for two more minutes.« The unfamiliar figure finally starts, urging Jason back to his ownuniverse. Jason relents, but knows he should follow him back.

»Give me a minute—«

»There‘s no time,« The other person presses, not understanding the reluctance of Jason. But Jason doesn‘t listen and turn to face you, trying to find his words. However, you understand and only stare back at him, already accepting the fate. Finally, Jason takes a deep breath and speaks up, quietly.

»I‘ll see you again, yeah?« With an uneven sigh, he takes a step back and follows his brother, watching how they both disappear into a bright slight out of air.

Panicking, you rush to Jason‘s previous room and hope what you just saw was a werid hallucination. Inside, you are greeted with nothing but his lit lamp light at the nightstand, and the silence of your empty apartment. Scoffing, you sit down at the bed, trying to get along the situation. On his nighstand stands a smaller, ceramic figure. A moon-shaped plate, coloured in a deep red.

a/n: this was so fun to write!! i really liked the idea, i hope i was able to execute it well, thanks for the request

←MASTERLIST

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Christmas Family Swap 2

Last Christmas I gave you my heart….or my body more like. A year ago on Christmas day, my family woke up to find we had all swapped bodies with each other. My sister Em with my mom, my brother Calvin and sibling Sam, and worst of all - me with my grandpa Boris.

It all happened because of a magical Christmas knickknack that broke when my grandpa dropped it. We were all stuck in the wrong bodies permanently. Calvin and Sam adapted the easiest, being similar ages and looks, though with completely different styles. Calvin went back to college in Sam's body, and somehow managed to convince everyone that all he did was shave his beard and lose weight. He did gain a good amount back, much to Sam's horror. Sam immediately shaved the beard off once they found out this was permanent, and got their ears repierced. Surprisingly, they didn't seem too preoccupied with losing weight, and seemed to embrace being chubby. They did start to shave all the chest hair off though.

Em reapplied to the same college she went to, under my mom's name, and actually got in. I guess she didn't mind how much older she was, and what people would think of her. Me on the other hand…well let's just say it'd be so embarrassing being a fat old guy in college. Not to mention how hard it would be walking to each class lugging around a huge belly. My joints were so tight as well.

I started living in his house, and surprisingly he actually let me, probably because he knew that if he tried to fight back, the neighbors would take my side because they wouldn't recognize him. I knew he got an apartment somewhere, but other than that, I didn't know anything about where he lived or what he'd been doing. God I hope he was at least taking care of my body…but I guess that didn't matter now that I was permanently stuck like this.

This year I was the one hosting, since my grandpa's house was much nicer than my mom's. Of course he never wanted anybody there before but now that it was mine, I was happy to have everyone over. My mom came over early to help cook the food since I would probably ruin the dinner otherwise.

“Ferris, this place is a mess! Do you ever clean up around here?”

“Sorry.” It was still weird seeing someone that looked like Em, but knowing it was my mom behind her eyes. Being so close to the real Em made it hard to take her seriously sometimes when mom scolded me. It probably felt weird for her too. I was in the body of her dad!

“And are these ramen wrappers on the floor? I guess you do live like a college student afterall.”

“Yeah. At least the place doesn’t smell like cigarette smoke anymore.” My grandpa was an avid smoker, and when I swapped, I quickly began craving cigarettes. I gave in eventually, but managed to quit a few months ago. I guess since the body was the smoker but the mind wasn't, it was a little bit easier to quit.

A while later I got a text. I unlocked my phone to see it was from Em. My heart sank when I read the message.

“Hey Ferris, I'm gonna be bringing my new boyfriend if that's ok?”

I showed my mom the text and she copied my worried look.

“New boyfriend? Did she mention him before? I think it might be too soon to invite him to Christmas.”

“I think she kinda already decided before she even asked. I think it'll be fine. I mean we've been like this for a year so it can't be that hard.”

“If you say so. We could just pretend to be each other.” I'd mostly started a new life and identity in the past year, but there still were some times I had to pretend to be my grandpa, like with his neighbors. It wasn't that hard, and I guess I could always pretend I was going senile or something if it comes to it.

Sam and Calvin soon showed up and we were waiting on Em and her boyfriend. When we got the text that they were on their way, my mom began cleaning up a bit around the kitchen area.

“Ferris, go tuck in your shirt.”

“But mom, I hate doing that. It…makes my gut hang out.”

“I know, I know. But just do it because it'll look nicer. It's not every Christmas we spend with someone we don't know. You want to make a good impression.”

“Ugh fine.” She was right though, we did want to make a good impression, even if our family was definitely weirder than you'd think. I headed to the bathroom to straighten up. When I looked into the mirror, it reflected a face that I now recognized as my own. It felt weird to think I used to hate seeing it, both on me, and on my grandpa, back when it was his. I wanted to grow a beard to cover the double chin and wrinkles, only to find out I really couldn't - it just awkwardly grew in patches. So I settled on clean shaven. I was an old man; it's not like I needed to impress anybody with my looks anyway.

I grazed my hands through my hair, or what was left of my hair anyway, and combed it back a bit. I then pushed in my gut with one hand in order to unbuckle my pants. With the way my gut just hung down, I'd gotten used to wearing long shirts that covered it up entirely. Tucking in my shirt highlighted it, but I really had to now so I took it, tucked it into my pants, and buckled them back up. I hated the way it looked, my belly seemed even more round and obvious. At least my belly was tucked into my pants instead of it hanging out.

I walked into the living room to find that Em and her boyfriend had already arrived. He was a regular college aged guy; must've had a thing for older women, or at least physically older women. He walked up to me to shake my hand. Definitely not something I was used to, having someone around my real age act so formal.

“Ah you must be Grandpa Boris right? Nice to meet you. I'm Aaron.”

“Er yeah nice to meet you too.”

“Em told me all about you guys. You seem like a fun bunch! Someone's missing though.” We all went a bit silent for a moment, but I needed to ease the awkwardness so I kinda spat out my thoughts.

“Oh uh yeah Ferris. My…grandson. Hes uh not coming.”

“Aw why not? Em said he was her favorite brother.”

“Uhh rude!” teased Calvin. Em spoke up to finish the answer.

“He's got his own things going on.”

“Ah shame. I'd love to meet hi-” Just then the door suddenly swung open, and standing in the doorway was none other than my grandpa - and boy, had he changed. I barely even recognized my old body! The signature slim muscle and abs I had were replaced with a chubby stomach contained by a blue shirt. How did he even get that big in just a year? What had he been eating?

“What's everyone looking at me for? It's Christmas! Show a little cheer for god’s sake!” he shouted. I can't believe he did this to me! At least he kinda got what he deserved. He was super proud of his hot body but it looks like he just couldn't keep up with the work needed to maintain it.

“Hey, I'm Aaron, Em's boyfriend. It's nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you.” He replied hastily. My mom suddenly interrupted.

“Well uh. The food is ready now everyone so feel free to grab a plate!” My grandpa rushed to the kitchen to get his before anyone else. He stacked a huge amount of food on his plate. I never realized how much of an appetite I had in my old body. Maybe that's why he gained weight so fast.

When he sat down, I noticed he reeked of cigarette smoke. I was so angry I wanted to tell him off right there and then, but I held it in because I didn't want to upset Em. So I kept quiet throughout dinner until Aaron tried to make conversation.

“So Grandpa Boris, how are you doing? I'm sure having a nice family like this must be wonderful.”

“Uh yeah, it's-”

“He doesn't know shit about having a nice family,” interrupted grandpa. I had enough.

“You know, if you want a nice family, you kinda have to BE nice first!” I shouted. Everyone went silent until he fought back.

“I AM being nice! I came here for dinner after all!”

“Yeah, only to stuff your fat face and get presents!” He looked as though he was defeated for a moment, but then started up again.

“Hey, it's not my fault you got a SHIT METABOLISM!"

“I worked out everyday to get that fit. What's your excuse?” Aaron whispered to Em, in between yelling.

“What are they talking about?”

“It's uh complicated.”

“Well uh I do have a present for you Em,” said Aaron, trying to ease the mood back into cheerfulness. At the word “present,” my grandpa suddenly turned his attention toward Aaron. Em opened the gift to find a little knickknack of an elf wearing a purple outfit. Definitely a weird color for a Christmas thing. It reminded me of the knickknack from last year.

“Well where's my present now?”

“Oh uh sorry Ferris! I only got one for Em.”

“Dad, you're not getting a single present this year!” my mom shouted.“

‘Dad?’ What is she talking about?” Aaron was confused now.

“Go to hell all of you!” Suddenly he grabbed Em's present and unlike last year, smashed it- on purpose.

“Grandpa, what the hell!” Em shouted. Aaron looked shocked.“Why are you calling him grandpa? I'm really confused now.”

“It's um…” started Em. “We uh swapped bodies last Christmas.”

“WHAT?” The next couple minutes we spent reintroducing ourselves.

“Oh shit. So you're your own mom? That's freaky. Very freaky.”

“So wait, the real Ferris is Grandpa Boris? Oh man that's gotta suck.”

“And I was super skinny before he trashed my body,” I replied.

“Well anyway. We should clean this mess up,” started Em. “I don't know why we-” Suddenly it felt like pressure was building up inside my head and I noticed everyone else except Aaron got wide eyed.

“Uhh are you all ok?” The pressure feeling built up until it suddenly exploded and felt like I was flying across the room. My sight went dark for a few seconds until it all stopped. When I opened my eyes I was sitting at the other side of the table, looking at myself.

“What happened?” asked Calvin. “Oh shit a beard!” He grazed his hands over his beard. “Not again!”

It was then that we all realized what had happened. We were all back in our own bodies! Except…I was fat. I looked down at my hands to see a familiar freckle to confirm that I was back in my own body.

“Well this is awkward,” said Sam. “We spend the last year building new identities only for everything to go back to normal. That knickknack really returned to us again!”

“Hey at least we look like ourselves again! Well…poor Ferris.” I felt like I was about to cry. I began heading towards the bathroom to see the damage my grandpa had really done. I looked in the mirror and the sense of security I felt when I saw my own face was quickly shattered when I saw how chubby my cheeks were, as well as the double chin I didn't have before. I took my shirt off to find that my abs were completely gone, replaced with a flabby belly that hung over my belt. I had a pair of jiggly man tits as well.

I was used to being fat, but at least when I was in my grandpa's body, I didn't feel as insecure because most old guys are fat anyway. But now? I was just a young guy who really let himself go.

Suddenly I heard a door slam, so I put my clothes back on to see what happened. My grandpa was gone.“Yeah, he's never coming over here again,” said my mom.

“He's just…”

“Too much?” I replied.

“Yep.”

“Well, no need to be so down in the dumps everyone!” started Aaron. “It's still Christmas! Even better, the whole new year new you thing will be pretty literal with all of you.”

“Again,” replied Sam with a laugh.

“Merry Christmas!”

[enbyfvcker]

["Merry Christmas, Honey Badger!"]

𝙒𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙒𝙞𝙡𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣 (𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙩!𝙬𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 0.6k

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮/𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙩: Wade sets a Christmas Party.

𝙏𝙖𝙜𝙨: Fluff, comfort, just them being all cute and domestic and Logan not being used to affection.

Wade always made a point to decorate the apartment on holidays and celebrate them properly. He didn't had that on his fucked up childhood, so it's important to him. Althea told Logan that, so he was playing along even though he didn't really care about those things. He cares about Wade.

Wade gave him really cheesy matching Christmas sweaters with their faces on them, and he hated them. But he wore it anyway. Logan wearing the one with a little Deadpool and Wade wearing one with a little Wolverine.

It was stupid, but it made Wade happy. Logan liked him smiling, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"We look so cute, peanut! Don't you think, Al? Oh, right, you can't see."

"Fuck off, jerk." The old lady spat.

"Well, I wish you could smell how adorable we look right now."

Logan grinned and shook his head. He was doing this more often, he realized. Smiling.

Mary Puppins walks in with her tongue out and Wade quickly scoops her up, the dog licking his face excitedly.

"Come to daddy, baby!"

"Oh, god. You got one for the dog, too?" Logan scowl when he sees dogpool wearing a little Christmas sweater just like them.

"Of course I did! She's our daughter!" The merc replies, holding Mary Puppins up as she wiggles. "Aren't you the cuttest little thing? Yes, you are!"

...

Wade invited the whole gang over: Laura, Yukio, Ellie, Peter... other side characters who didn't have any lines... And he may have cooked a feast - wearing his little "Kiss the cook" apron - and got gifts for everyone. He's cheesy like that. He's got a family now, and he doesn't take them for granted.

It was opening gifts time, and everyone was exchanging presents and there were a lot of "thank you's" and hugs.

It was still all foreign to Logan. He lived the past years all alone, and holidays like this used to be all the same to regular days where he would just drown himself in bottles of whiskey and be miserable.

But this family was nice. He felt like if Wade did, then he could belong, too.

Maybe he wasn't the Wolverine he should be, but Laura still seemed to like him and wanted to bond with him despite how fucked up he is. Wade adored him, and his friends were all kind to him.

Maybe he didn't have to be miserable forever. Maybe he could put his past behind and make a future in this new universe.

"For you." Wade announced, holding out a small wrapped box in front of Logan who was sitting on the couch. "Open."

Logan took the box and Wade sits beside him, tapping his fingers excitedly on his knees.

He unwraps it and when he opens it he sees dog tags that looked very alike the ones he had. He lost them in his universe while he was black out drunk.

But as he grabbed to examine them, he noticed this one's different.

On one side, it read: 𝙇𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙣, and when he turned it around, it read:

"𝘽𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙒𝙤𝙡𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙚"

He could feel his heart aching as he grabbed the tags tight.

"Did you make this?"

"Yeah! I didn't really know what to get you, so I- Oh my god- Are you crying?!"

"No." Logan lied, fighting back an insistent tear.

"Oh god, I can't believe I made Wolverine cry!"

"Shut up."

"Come here, honey badger." Wade coos, hugging Logan in a soft embrace.

Logan doesn't hug back, but he also doesn't pull away. He wouldn't admit, but he needed it a bit. So he just sniffed as he let Wade hold him.

And he may hide it under his shirts, but after that, he never took the tags off. Rubbing them affectionately like he used to do with his old ones. Except these were so more meaningful.

[End.]

Hope you liked it! I wanted to make a cute poolverine holiday fic, so he ya go! Them being all cute and domestic it's so important to me.

[happilyhertale]

Captured Moments – Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Daemon has to go on a business trip again. You hate it every time he leaves you alone for a long time. But to make his alone time special, you plan to make him a little film.

Pairing: Modern Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Fingering; Dirty Talk; Sex (p in v)

Author’s note:

This is my last story for this year's Smuffmas Challenge. It was great fun creating all these little stories and reading your comments on my stories. Thanks for reading!

I hope you'll also like my last Daemon story.

Word count: 2.2 k

Other stories of mine

12 Days of Smuffmas

12 Days of Smuff

Daemon is a man of many complexities. With the sleek, tailored suits he wore to business meetings, you almost forget that there is a certain fire beneath his cool exterior. He isn’t the kind of man to show his emotions easily, nor was he the type to stand still when there is a task to be done. But when he is with you, all of that seems to melt away.

But now, you are facing the reality of his business trip. The one he has to leave for so soon. You don‘t know how long he’d be gone, and that is the hardest part. He would normally give you exact dates and let you in on his plans. Usually to rant about his business partners. But this time, he didn't know how long he would be gone. And you hated it. You hate the uncertainty, you hate the distance that it created. And yet you know he has no choice. Duty, work, all of it… it doesn't make it any easer though.

You are in your bedroom now, your mind racing. The soft lighting in the room creats a sensual atmosphere, and as you gaze at the old camera on the dresser, the thought of giving Daemon a farewell gift consumes you. You aren’t the type to be overtly emotional, but this is different. You want to leave a piece of you with him, something tangible. Something to make him smile when he is far away.

You move to the bed, your fingers grazing the smooth silk sheets. Carefully, you strip out of your clothes, leaving only your lingerie—a white lace that clings to your skin, accentuating your curves. You aren’t trying to seduce him in the usual way; no, this is different. This is something deeper. You are offering him a part of yourself, a memory of you when the distance felt too much to bear.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the camera just so, making sure it has the right angle. This is the first time you are doing something like this, and a slight nervousness creeps in. But you push it down, telling yourself that Daemon would love it. After all, he appreciates the unconventional, the unexpected. You are certain this would be something that would make him smile when he was alone in some hotel room, far away.

The camera rolls as you lie back, eyes fluttering close for a moment as you imagine his reaction. You shift slightly, adjusting your position, arching your back slightly so the lace clung to you even more. You want him to feel your presence when he watches this. You want to be in his thoughts, every moment, every second.

What you didn’t realize was that Daemon was already closer than you thought.

Daemon is walking down the hallway when he hears a faint sound. He knows you are in the bedroom, but he hadn't expected this. Curiosity draws him closer, each step silent as he approaches the door. He peers through the crack, his heart beating slightly faster as he sees you lying there on the bed, dressed in nothing but lace and silk, the camera trained on you.

He grins. The look on your face—soft, sensual, and unaware—make something deep inside him stir. You have no idea he is watching.

His breathing slows as he leans against the doorframe, unable to avert his gaze. The way you move, the way the fabric of your underwear caresses your body, it's like a slow, seductive dance just for him. His eyes take in every detail, the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the softness of your skin, without you noticing his presence. He feels his desire stirring, his length twitching.

Daemon is just standing in the doorway watching you. Your eyes are closed as your fingers glide over your body and you sigh softly. Do you imagine that they are his fingers? He feels his member twitch slightly again, but he just watches you. Your fingers glide over the fabric of your panties and you sigh again. You press against the fabric and he knows you are pressing against your bundle of nerves. Your hips move slightly as your fingers glide over the fabric in circles. The camera captures everything, every sigh and soft whimper as your fingers pick up speed.

He knows it is wrong to just stand there, to not make his presence known, but a thrill ran through him. He lets himself enjoy the moment—before stepping forward, slowly, deliberately.

With a deep breath, Daemon walks into the room, his footsteps silent as he approachs the bed. They haven't noticed him yet, but the air has changed as soon as he walks further into the room.

The cool confidence in his stride, the intensity of his presence—it is impossible to ignore. Slowly, he enters the room and watches you closely, but you don't notice. “Are you already preparing for my absence?“ His deep voice suddenly sounds. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp, "Daemon!" You sit up slightly and breathe a little heavily. “No, no... don't let me disturb you, go on,” he encourages you with a small smile around his lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise for you!“ you pout a little. “Oh believe me, this is a surprise,“ he says and starts to unbutton his pants. “Daemon...” you start, but you can already feel the throbbing intensify between your thighs.

“And where did you dig that thing up?” he mumbles, while his pants slide down and he tilts his head in the direction of the camera. But you don't answer immediately, your attention is focused on his boxer shorts, which are already sliding towards the floor. His hardness springs free and the throbbing between your thighs becomes unbearable. You squeeze your thighs together. “I wanted you to have something to take with you on your business trip...“ you say, earning a chuckle from Daemon as you let yourself fall back onto the mattress. ”Well, I could watch a video of me keeping you company instead,“ he mumbles and crawls onto the bed. ”What...?” you start, but then you understand, “Oooh…“ you say.

But then he grabs you by the back of your knees and pulls you towards him. You let out a small squeak, but you can't stop smiling. Your legs wrap around his waist as if by themselves and you pull him closer. His scent envelops you as you press your face into his neck – his growl fills the room as he grinds his length against your core.

Your teeth dig lightly into his skin as his hip grinds against you in rhythm. His eyes flashing with primal desire,“Get them off, ” he mutters. Slowly, torturously, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begins to drag them down your thighs, exposing your most intimate area to his hungry gaze.

He tosses your discarded underwear aside carelessly. His large hands skim up your sides, pushing your lingerie up to reveal the soft swell of your breasts.

Leaning down, he captures one pebbled nipple between his teeth, suckling and nibbling as his fingers find your slick folds, stroking teasingly. "So wet already, just for me... I bet this tight little cunt is aching to be filled, isn't it baby?".

You just whimper, ending in a desperate moan, your back arching slightly as Daemon teases your nipple with his teeth and tongue.

He smirks wickedly at your breathy moan, reveling in the power he holds over your pleasure. Slowly, deliberately, he sinks two long fingers knuckle-deep into your sopping wet heat, pumping them in and out at a maddeningly slow pace

"Fuck, you're dripping, babe," he groans, curling his fingers to stroke that sensitive spot inside you. "This greedy cunt is sucking me in, like it never wants to let go."

His thumb finds your clit, circling the swollen nub in tight, fast circles as he increases the speed of his thrusting fingers. Leaning down, he laves his tongue over your neglected nipple again before drawing it into his mouth to suck hard, which makes you moan.

"That's it, let me hear those pretty noises," he demands huskily against your breast.

Releasing your nipple with a wet pop, he starts trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, occasionally grazing his teeth over your racing pulse point.

"I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he moans and you whimper in reply, your hips moving against his fingers as you want to feel him deeper inside you.

He just smirks wickedly at your wanton response, enjoying the sight of you writhing beneath him, flushed and panting with need. Sliding his two long fingers deeper inside your dripping channel, he curls them just right, rubbing against that sensitive spot within. Your pussy is dripping and you feel your walls flutter around his fingers. Daemon's teeth dig into the soft skin of your neck and you moan out again.

"Mmmm, such a responsive little thing you are," he groans approvingly, pumping his digits slowly. "Clenching so greedily around my fingers, like this greedy cunt is starving for my cock."

And in that moment, Daemon pulls his fingers out of your dripping heat. You whimper in protest and look up at him as he sits up slightly. He grins cheekily as he sees you lying there, breathing heavily and spread for him.

He fists his length in his hand, pumping it a few times, your slick on his fingers aiding the motion. You watch his long and thick manhood as he strokes it, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Even in the dim light of the room, you can see a pearly bead of liquid forming at the tip, and you bite your lip in anticipation. He grunts as he fucks his fist, biting his lip as well as his eyes roam over your naked form.

He leans down again, letting the tip slide through your pussy and you whimper again as he thrusts shallowly against your opening. You try to push your hips towards him because you finally want to feel him inside you.

A stifled groan escapes his lips as you grind your folds against his cock.

“So impatient,” he murmurs, but then he gives in and you feel the stretch. You gasp as he penetrates deeper inch by inch. He growls as he feels your pussy clench and pushes deeper. The way your walls wrap around his shaft, drawing him deeper and deeper inside until his swollen tip presses against your cervix. You're so tight and wet, you're leaking all over his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size before he slides out almost completely and then pushes into you again. His thrusts get faster and harder, making you moan and gasp. His balls slap against your ass with every powerful thrust. The tip of his cock hits your cervix with more force and you cry out slightly. The bed creaks with every movement and your back arches slightly, wanting to feel him deeper. When Daemon suddenly grabs your legs and puts them over his shoulders. You gasp and look at him, but before you can react, he slides back into your pussy. You moan and your eyes roll back into your head. Daemon growls, he feels your pussy fluttering around his cock. He thrusts deeper into your heat, leaning forward a little to make you scream. “Daemon!” you scream, and he grunts. He stretches you out, deepening the angle even more. “YES! Let me hear how deep you need it!” he grunts.

He pulls out for merely a second before slamming back in with full force, electrifying every nerve in your body and coaxing more sounds out of you. Your legs are still over his shoulder, he has a firm grip on you while he fucks hard into you. Tears form in your eyes as Daemon holds your thighs. His grunts get louder and louder as he feels your pussy start to milk his cock.

He can feel how close you are and his fingers glide to your clit. He rubs your clit wildly, playing with your clit, his fingers drenched from your slick, making you see stars while you clench hard around him. “Come on, come on my cock!” he growls and you whimper as he thrusts deeper and you can't hold back anymore. You come and feel your orgasm rush through your body as you moan. Your pussy clenching hard around his cock and he grunts. He slides in and out until he spills his hot seed within your clenching cunt. He cums hard, his cock throbbing inside you with abandon as he grunts and groans. Part of him delights in the thought of marking you, of filling you with a hot, sticky reminder of him.

His motion becomes sloppy and he growls until every drop is milked from his cock.

You are breathing heavily, your eyes are closed. Daemon lets your legs slide off his shoulders before he leans down and kisses you. Almost gently, in contrast to the previous moment. After he breaks the kiss, your eyes fall back on the camera that has captured all this. But before you can say anything, you hear Daemon's hoarse voice. “Now I have a great video for those lonely moments,” he murmurs against your skin and you giggle slightly.

[the-sand-guardian]

Early Sunsets Prologue

7 months ago, the world was normal, save for one small lab in the middle of nowhere. The lab was ordinarily quiet and privately owned by the head scientist (and most likely his janitor too), but this was about to change. Pac was only beginning to pull on his coat and start his day when his janitor, the only other staff he ever had regularly around) alerted him to a van pulling into the driveway. The vehicle was almost entirely unmarked, save for a large insignia on the side that Pac knew at once: The Federation. He stepped back from the window, his eyes wide and his jaw clenched. He hadn’t been working on anything illegal- well, not recently- but there was no reason for the government to be on his ass this time. A car door slammed shut outside as both Pac and the janitor quickly pulled every blind down. 

“Calma, calma- It’s going to be alright Pac. You didn’t do anything wrong, what could they possibly want from you?” The janitor cooed softly to the other as he had begun to pace. 

Pac dug a hand into his hair. There were voices outside, but they weren’t distinct enough for him to actually make out words. “Fitchi- They don’t come here for no reason! They might kill me! Or us! Or you!” 

A hand gently clasped ahold of Pac’s, and another soon took his other. “I will protect you if it is the last thing I do, Pac,” Fit gently squeezed his hands. Pac hoped it never ever came to that. A knock at the door finally pulled them from each other’s eyes. 

Pac begrudgingly let go of his janitor’s (lover’s) hands and crossed the room to get the door. A masked employee greeted Pac blankly before stepping past him into the lab. Another employee followed, and Pac quickly noted that both had large guns within his view. Finally, a third fed followed behind them. This one was not visibly armed, but the chill dancing down Pac’s spine told him he didn’t need to be. This worker was still clad in the signature ghostly white of the Federation, but they wore their long white hair in a crafted bun atop their head. Their uniform was different, too. Instead of the smooth white masks of the grunts, this worker had an unsettling smile printed onto their mask and a pair of bear (he assumed) ears attached to the top. If Pac weren’t so on edge, he might have been able to admire the clear effort that had gone into their appearance. No more employees came in, but he doubted the Federation would waste a full van on three people.

“Can I help you?” Pac asked, straightening up his posture a little before slumping just slightly again. Fit’s firm hand found its way back into Pac’s. 

“Actually… you can.” The third employee spoke slowly and carefully, crossing to the centre of the room now. The other two flanked either side of them like the bodyguards they may well have been. “You see, the Federation has been keeping a close eye on this here…laboratory… for quite some time now and we think that, perhaps, you might be of some use to us.” 

Pac cocked his head to the side a little before looking over at Fit, who was equally as confused. It wasn’t like Chume was one of those major labs right now. They weren’t pumping out medicine, or drugs, or even anything really. Shouldn’t the Federation have their own labs? Fit squeezed his hand slightly. Pac returned it. 

“Perhaps you’re not understanding me-” The Bear, as Pac was now mentally calling them, effortlessly switched into Portuguese despite never having an accent in English. “Pac, você tem habilidades que a Federação pode usar. Nós precisamos de você.” (‘You have skills the Federation can use. We need you.’)

Pac blinked a second before just staring. “O que- O que vocês precisam?” His gaze flicked over to Fit quickly, which did actually help him calm a little. He could practically hear his voice even though he wasn’t speaking, his eyes said it all. Calma, Pac, calma. Pac steadied the slight shake in his hands– the only real tell that he was nervous at all– and let out a quiet but heavy breath. 

“Seu laboratório é muito útil, e você é muito inteligente, mas… você sabe disso.” Pac could practically hear the smirk lurking in their voice. (“Your laboratory is very useful, and you’re very intelligent, but… you know that.”)

“E? E o que você precisa?” He took a small step towards them and started to study their mask now that he was no longer trembling too much to see straight. Now he could see that this mask was even further different from those of the usual feds. This mask had actual eye holes behind a thin mesh that made up the dull eyes of the smile printed onto it. Something about this caused the hair on his neck to stand on end. He hadn’t even noticed previously that the plain white masks didn’t have eye holes, but now that he had, that shiny plastic (assumedly) would be burned into his brain. 

“Eu quero que você crie um vírus.” (I want you to create a virus.)

<><><><><><><><><><>

Authors notes: Hello!! If you enjoyed this please please reblog and be ready to catch the rest of the fic on Ao3 tomorrow! The rest of this fic is going to be Spiderbit with some cutaways to Fit and Pac bc I had so much fun writing them here! Also, feel free to send me asks about the AU as it comes out!!

[cassiebones]

'15. I'm your gift this year' for the Agathario writing prompt, please!

Four Days to Christmas

"When are you coming home?"

Agatha sighed. Her son's eyes were visibly wet on the other side of the Zoom call, his bottom lip protruding as he gave her his sad puppy dog look. The only difference now was that she could tell he wasn't using the look to get something he wanted from her and was genuinely sad that she wasn't there with him this time.

She was in California this week, working on a last-minute work 'emergency' they'd called it, but honestly she could have probably done this via Zoom and remote access to somebody's computer. Men were just highly incompetent, it seemed. She vowed that her son would never be this incompetent, though.

"Soon," Agatha promised. "I'll be home before Christmas, I swear. I just have to finish up a few things here and then I'll be on the next plane home. Maybe I'll even hitch a ride with Santa Claus."

That didn't get the giggle she had hoped it would. Nicky's face was still somber, a tear leaking out from the corner of his eye. Agatha's heart ached.

This was the first holiday season in his short six years of life that she wasn't home to help him and her wife put up the tree or decorate the house or bake Christmas cookies. She'd had to watch them do all that while on Zoom as she put out fires at the California office that her inept colleagues had set nearly every day this month.

At this point, she swore they were doing it on purpose just to keep her away from her family - or to avoid their own families.

She was putting out feelers at other companies, one based closer to home, with the understanding that she was not available to travel this far away, especially during the holidays. As soon as she found another job, she was putting in her resignation, cashing in her PTO, and leaving these imbeciles in the dust.

"I will make it home to you," Agatha promised again. "You have my word."

She didn't know if she could make that promise. It was four days until Christmas and she didn't even have a flight booked, but she would spend any amount of money just to see that little face in person.

Nicky's chin quivered, and Agatha's heart cracked just a little bit more.

Three Days to Christmas

"How are things going over there?" Rio asked. Agatha groaned, flopping down onto her hotel bed. "So good then?"

Agatha let out a snort. "I don't know how I ended up at a company so full of idiots," she said. "I swear to Goddess, babe, I don't know how these men have survived this far in life without walking straight into traffic. They are so dumb. And now they're going to make me late for Christmas." She felt tears spring into her eyes.

"It'll be all be okay," Rio said, soothingly. "Everything will work out like it should. You just focus on showing these idiots up and making them realize what they're going to be missing when you're gone. Speaking of, have you heard back from anywhere?"

"Several places, actually," Agatha said. "I'm going with whoever offers me the first contract. Which seems to be...Kale Kare. I'm not really into their products, but I can be if Jen Kale can get me back to New Jersey before Christmas Eve." Christmas Eve was in two days.

"Good luck with that," Rio said with a chuckle. "I believe in you, babe."

"I love you," Agatha replied, her voice soft as she turned over on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "Tell Nicky I'm going to be there."

"I will," Rio promised. "I love you, too."

Two Days to Christmas

Agatha was going to end up in prison on Christmas. She was going to be using her one phone call to speak to her son, to apologize and tell him that she wouldn't be making it home after all because she couldn't keep herself from strangling three grown men with her bare fucking hands.

If she had been allowed to handle everything on her own, without their ineptitude slowing her down, Agatha would have been home weeks ago, but these morons were fucking everything up with their cocky attitudes and unwillingness to ask her for assistance until it was nearly too late.

Agatha's resignation letter was sitting in a draft in her email, waiting for Jennifer Kale to send the contract for Agatha's signature. It was taking her a minute, but Agatha knew that she had to make sure that everything was ironclad as her lawyers looked over it.

Jen Kale's operations were based in New York, just an hour outside Westview, and while she had operations in other states, it was in Agatha's contract that she would not make Agatha travel anywhere more than a three-hour flight away too close to any major holiday or birthday in her family.

Also, her company was 95% female-led, which would be a refreshing change, and she could match Agatha's current salary.

All she needed to do was sign on the dotted line.

Jennifer's email found her after midnight. Agatha spent most of the early hours of Christmas Eve reading through the contract, checking everything off her list, then signed and sent it back. She fired off her resignation letter to the CEO after that, placing her phone on Do Not Disturb before buying herself a ticket home for Christmas.

One Day to Christmas

All flights were delayed.

Agatha wanted to cry. It was six hours until midnight. She was at the airport, running on three hours of sleep, grumpy as all hell. Her wife wasn't answering her phone or texts, and her flight was delayed indefinitely due to a snowstorm in Newark the fucking night before Christmas.

Tears stung her eyes as she paced the terminal, waiting for the inevitable announcement that her flight would just be straight-up cancelled.

Nicky was going to be so upset.

"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcement said above her head. Agatha's heart sunk. "We regret to inform you that flight 1674, from San Francisco to Newark, has been delayed until 11 am on December 25th. We are so sorry to have disrupted your holiday plans. You will all receive a voucher for a complimentary meal, as well as discounted rates at the nearest hotels. Once again, our apologies. Happy Holidays."

"Fuck," Agatha whined, plopping down into a seat. "Fuck."

"That's a bad word."

Agatha nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to see her wife and child standing just feet away. Tears sprung to her eyes as she ran to them, dropping to her knees in front of her son and pulling him into her embrace, squeezing him tightly as though he would vanish into thin air if she let him go even for a single second.

"What are you doing here?" she huffed, looking up at Rio, who was just as misty-eyed as she stared down at them. "How did you get here? Isn't there a snowstorm?"

"Just missed us," Rio said. "We left before it started."

"How did you know I wouldn't make it home in time? Did you have so little faith in me?" Agatha stood, hefting Nicky onto her hip, holding him close to her body.

"Oh, sweetheart," Rio said, stepping closer to cup her cheek in her hand, "it had nothing to do with that. My lack of faith was in your incompetent business partners." She rolled her eyes. "I bought Nicky and myself a couple of open-ended plane tickets. The fact that we were able to get a flight so last-second is a minor miracle in itself. But I knew when I saw the weather report this morning that you'd never be able to make it home, by no fault of your own. So...here we are, bringing Christmas to you."

"Babe," Agatha breathed, pulling Rio in by her scarf, pressing her lips to the other woman's. Rio wrapped her arms around Agatha and Nicky, sinking into Agatha's kiss. "I love you so damn much," Agatha whispered against her wife's lips.

"That's also a curse," Nicky piped up, eliciting a snort from Agatha and a laugh from Rio as she pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and poked him in the side. Nicky giggled, pressing his face into Agatha's neck.

"Come on," Agatha said, already reaching for her suitcase. "Next flight isn't until eleven AM. Let's go find a hotel and get something to eat."

"Sounds good to me," Rio said, slinging her arm around Agatha's waist as they headed in the direction of the exit.

Zero Days to Christmas

"Mami! Mama! Wake up! It's Christmas!"

Agatha groaned, pulling her wife more closely to her body. It had been three weeks since she'd last seen the other woman in person, and they'd barely gotten four hours of sleep after finally getting Nicky to sleep the night before, his excitement for Christmas practically having him bouncing off the walls into the early hours of the morning.

They had set the expectation that Santa probably wouldn't find them in the hotel, on the opposite side of the country, in time for Christmas, but all his gifts would almost certainly be under the tree when they returned home to Westview, which would no doubt be covered in several feet of snow. Nicky was ostensibly fine with that.

But now he was acting the way he'd acted every Christmas since he realized what the holiday meant for their family: like he was about to find a pile of gifts under the tree with his name on them.

But there was no tree this year, not in this hotel, anyway. There was nothing to unwrap. They'd do all that when they got back to Jersey.

"Come on!" Nicky huffed, tugging the comforter off of their huddled bodies, exposing them to the cold. "Get up!"

Agatha groaned, shoving her face into Rio's neck.

"I brought a few things," Rio whispered in her ear, so low that Agatha almost missed it. "Just so he'd have something to open."

"Whyyyyyy?" Agatha moaned, wrapping her body more tightly around Rio's. Rio chuckled in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Stay in bed," she said, extracting herself. "I'll make you some coffee and be right back. We'll bring the gifts here."

"I love you so fucking much," Agatha all but whined, pressing a kiss to Rio's lips before letting her go.

"Alright, buddy," she heard Rio say. "Show me where the gifts Santa left you are."

"Why isn't Mama coming?" Nicky asked.

"Because somebody kept her up until nearly two in the morning," Rio snorted. "You're lucky Santa brought you anything at all after that. She needs coffee."

Rio shut the door behind them, leaving Agatha in peace for a few moments. She found herself drifting back off to sleep almost immediately, so exhausted from the previous night and the entirety of the last month away from her family. She didn't sleep very well without her human pillow, Rio, or the little bundle of energy they'd made together (sperm donor or not, there was no way to convince Agatha that Nicky wasn't biologically Rio's son, not when they shared so many similar features.)

Her ex-colleagues had been trying to get back in touch with her since she'd emailed her resignation, insisting that they could increase her pay if she would just stay with the company. Agatha refused to even entertain the idea. There was no amount they could pay her that would justify her doing 85% of the work in a team of four people. And they were all local while she had to fly across the country for it? No way.

She hoped Kale Kare would be a better fit. She was almost certain it would be. And Agatha would happily watch her old company sink like the Titanic in the meantime.

She was awoken next by a soft kiss on her cheek. Agatha's eyes fluttered open to see Rio standing above her, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

"Morning, my love," Rio said, "again. Coffee?"

"Marry me," Agatha sighed, sitting up as she took the offered cup.

"We're already married," Rio laughed.

"I was talking to the coffee," Agatha huffed, making Rio bark out a laugh. She bumped the other woman's shoulder as she sat down on the bed next to her, her own cup of steaming tea in her hands. Nicky was at the end of the bed, holding his red and green striped stocking, stuffed with as many gifts as Rio could fit into her backpack without arising suspicion from the boy.

"Santa Clause brought me my stocking!" he told them. "He said that he realized we weren't home, so he decided to just bring this, but all my other gifts are under our tree."

"Well, that was nice of him," Agatha said. "We should send him a thank you letter for being so thoughtful."

"Yeah!" Nicky said. "He didn't bring your stockings, though." He shrugged, sympathetically.

"That's okay," Agatha said. "I'm sure we'll manage until tonight."

"Open your presents," Rio encouraged. "Show us what you got!"

Nicky got some toy figurines from his favorite show, a mini bunny squishmallow, two toy cars, and goodie bag of his favorite candies. He let out a squeal for every gift he unwrapped, hugging them all against his chest as he bounced on the bed with excitement.

"Wow, if that's just what Santa brought you in your stocking, I can't imagine what he has under the tree for you," Agatha said.

"We may need to take out a second mortgage," Rio whispered in her ear. Agatha snorted, pressing her face to her wife's shoulder.

"Can I go play with my new toys?" Nicky asked, already jumping off the bed with all his goodies in his arms.

"Go ahead," Agatha said, "but leave the candy here. No sweets before breakfast."

"Okay," Nicky groaned, dropping the bag onto the bed, before running around to Agatha's side, throwing himself into her arms. "I'm glad we could be together for Christmas," he murmured into her shoulder. Agatha felt tears spring to her eyes as she hugged him back, pressing a kiss to his hair.

"Me too, baby," she said. "Now, go play. We gotta start getting ready to head back to the airport in a couple of hours."

"Okay!" Nicky exclaimed, already running back to the door, pulling it closed behind him as he entered the main room of their hotel suite.

Agatha took another sip of her coffee and sighed as she leaned into Rio's side. "I didn't get a gift for you this year," she said, regretfully. "I didn't have the time. I'm sorry."

"You did get a gift for me, actually," Rio said, taking her mug from her hands and placing it on the bedside table next to her own. "You are my gift this year, my love. And I'm yours." Agatha smiled as Rio pressed her lips to hers, Rio's arms encircling her waist as she pulled her closer.

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 24 -  Pudding

The next morning, John was in a good mood, working in the kitchen. The evening with Sherlock had been quite lovely in the end, just the two of them, alone together. He realised he hadn’t finished speaking to Sherlock about the case, though. Sherlock had been to see his brother, hence he'd needed the ice cream too, but didn’t say why. So when Sherlock strolled in to find the mess surrounding John, his face a little horrified, John already jumped in to distract him.

“Was he mad?” John asked.

“Who?” Sherlock looked confused. 

He was already dressed. Looking nice for this time of morning. Perhaps he was about to go out for the day. Should John have checked if they had a case first? Had John forgotten something they were doing entirely?

“Mycroft. Was he mad that the case wasn't as exciting as he had hoped? You didn’t say.” 

“Oh. He'll get over it,” Sherlock said with a flippant hand gesture.

“Did you still get paid, though?” John turned to ask.

“Yes, we got paid,” Sherlock corrected.

“Good,” John said, nodding as he worked. 

“What are you doing in here, then? It smells amazing,” Sherlock sighed, walking in and looking around. Every surface was a mess, all covered in bowls and flour, and spices.

“I thought I'd cook a Christmas pudding. I found my Nan’s recipe.”

“Really? You've never done that before,” Sherlock said, surprised.

“I was feeling inspired by all the sweet goodness on our trip,” he said with a laugh. “Well, actually, I also promised Molly I would bring… something to the party.” He grimaced. Sherlock was not thrilled about having to go in the first place.

Sherlock flashed him an annoyed look.

“I know. I know. And you wanted to get out of going. I know.”

Sherlock went straight to the kettle to make tea. 

“Anyway, I agreed to bake some cookies - simple enough. And then, when I was looking through my recipes I found the pudding recipe and I thought I’d make that just for us... to have, before you go away for Christmas.” John looked around him at the mess and suddenly felt overwhelmed. 

“Can I help?” Sherlock asked, noticing John's distress.

“You ah… you want to help?” John asked, looking surprised and nervous at the offer.

“Yes, John. I want to help. Put me to good use. Just let me have a tea first.”

“You’re not doing anything today?” he checked.

“Nope. Free as a bird,” he said with a smile. He grabbed his tea and moved over to a chair placing his cup on the one corner of the table that was clear of cooking paraphernalia.

“Ok. Sure. Here, put an apron on or that posh shirt of yours will get ruined.” John handed him an apron from the cupboard and then set about trying to organise the chaos a bit, now that he had someone else involved in it. Once Sherlock had finished his tea, John passed him a bowl with dough in it and a rolling pin.

Sherlock still managed to make wearing an apron look sexy. It irritated John - making it hard for him to focus. He set Sherlock to rolling out dough and pressing the biscuit cutter into it, making different Christmas shapes and placing them on the tray for baking. For a while they worked in silence, just concentrating on what they were doing. John mixed his soaked fruit into the bowl of dry ingredients and got the pudding mixture sorted.

“This is nice. I feel like we usually don't share in the cooking together,” he said finally.

“I’ve made you cook too often,” Sherlock rushed to reply.

“It's alright. I don't mind doing it so long as you don't mind my terrible cooking,” John laughed. 

“Your cooking isn’t terrible.”

“Well, I’m not a terrible cook. I don't know, I just assume you are more accustomed to nicer food.” John blushed at the admission. His basic cooking kept them alive, he supposed. It was sustenance, but it wasn’t fine dining.

“John, we get takeaway when I’m in charge, or when you’re tired. When you make time to cook, it means something. To me, at least.”

“Well, I appreciate that. And that you don’t, you know, make fun of my cooking. I'm sure you can cook too.”

“Yes, I can, and I have done so on occasion, but when my brain's busy and my body's tired, I struggle to sum up the energy. My brain often doesn't have room left to think about what I want to cook, or what I could cook, or what I should cook… or if we have the ingredients… or when I'll have time to go to the shops to get the ingredients. You just have this ability to look at what's in the fridge and make something up. I can't do that.”

“You're a chemist!” John exclaimed. “I would have thought potions would be your specialty.”

“No, funnily enough. At least, I don't do that with food, so much as actual chemicals. Not advisable for the kitchen.” 

“Yeah, all right, genius,” John teased. "Hasn't stopped you running experiments in here, has it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His experiments on the kitchen table were always a source of heated conversation. “But honestly, John, that's a skill. I can follow a recipe and I've cooked some very fancy, very impressive things when I was younger, but I'm following someone else's recipe with ingredients they've told me to buy. You can just improvise and I am constantly in awe of that.”

“Okay, that makes me feel a little bit better. Keep going with the compliments.” He flashed Sherlock a grin and his eyes sparkled with joy.

“I really like that one you do with the… with the minced meat?”

John laughed. “Mystery mince?” 

“Is that what you call it?” Sherlock chuckled.

“Yes, but it's just a bunch of stuff from the cupboard. It's just a mix of herbs and leftover veg and mince on toast it's not rocket science.”

“Well, I like it.” Sherlock lifted his chin defiantly.

“Good to know.” John chuckled to himself. “It feels good to know that I can still impress a genius.”

“You are a physician, John, you're not an idiot.”

“No, I know. You're just… very intimidating.”

“Me?” Sherlock looked shocked.

“Yes. You’re very—“

Sherlock’s brow creased as he watched John. Was that really what he thought? Was that why he was so nervous all the time? 

“You're very scathing sometimes... very unforgiving of people who you think are stupid. And I am prone to a lot of stupid things. So…” He looked down at his bowl, suddenly embarrassed he’d said anything.

“Oh, John, you're not even close to the idiots we see the rest of the time. You are an army surgeon. Are you seriously suggesting that I would think that you are stupid?” Sherlock asked.

John thought about it, and while they occasionally called each other idiot, he knew it was more in an affectionate way, somehow. A term of endearment. He’d used it on Sherlock too, and Sherlock Holmes was no idiot. He never meant it like that. “Well, I suppose when you say it like that, it sounds silly.”

“Perfectly ridiculous,” Sherlock said. He went back to working the dough. “John, maybe I’ve never said it to you directly. But you are one of the smartest people I know. I happen to have one of the fastest, most complex minds in the world. The skills I have are not are not particularly usual for the average human. So sometimes it seems like I expect everyone to be like me, but I know that I'm peculiar. You might have a more normal brain in comparison, but you are highly intelligent, highly accomplished. You have skills I've never even dreamed of having… to open up a human? To cut them open and understand what you're looking at? And fix them? At that level? Fascinating,” he sighed. “I find you fascinating.” 

John was lost for words. Sherlock had certainly never said that before. “I just always thought you lumped me in with the rest of the idiots.” He blushed.

“John, I wouldn't let you live here with me if I thought you were stupid. Quite honestly. You should know better than that.” He tilted his head and gave John a look of disbelief.

“Well, thank you, that's all the Christmas present I need.” He smiled at Sherlock and his friend looked back at him.

John was always fascinated with how Sherlock’s eyes changed colour, like a mood ring. Depending on his mood, or what he wore, his eyes shifted. And right now they were the most beautiful blue, while they were looking at John. Stunning. He didn’t mean to but he licked his lips nervously, lost for words. “Looks like you’re… ah… out of dough. Why don’t you pop those trays in the oven. Set the timer for eight minutes,” he said, returning his focus to the task.

He set about getting the pudding on to boil and then began making the icing for the biscuits, as Sherlock churned out more biscuits like a professional. Those violin-skilled fingers manipulated the dough and the biscuit cutters in a beautiful choreography that John kept finding himself watching. He was always rough and clumsy when he made them.

When the timer went off, Sherlock jumped up excitedly, and grabbed the tea towels to pull out the first tray of biscuits, eager to see how his handy work had gone. When he turned there was no bench space.

“John… if you could just…”

John’s thoughts were a million miles away. Sherlock, meanwhile, had grabbed both trays - one in each hand. So his hands were full, and the heat from the trays was burning through to his fingers now. 

“John!” Sherlock said more forcefully.

John spun around in a hurry, lifting the spoon out of the bowl, which managed to flick green icing across onto Sherlock’s cheek. He snorted and then realised the situation. “Sorry,” he laughed. “Sorry. Here, let me help.” John moved to the bench and frantically shifted his recipe pages and a used bowl and put down some cork board to take the heat of the trays. “Sorry,” he said again.

Sherlock dropped both trays down, and let the tea towels drop to the floor as he shook his hands out. The heat had worked through to his fingers but not enough to burn them.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

“Yes, sorry, I should have thought about the bench space…”

“No. My fault,” John said then smiled. “Come here.”

Sherlock’s brow furrowed.

“I got… icing…” John moved to Sherlock and reached up his thumb, to wipe the icing away.

Sherlock froze at the action and watched John intently. John’s only focus seemed to be on the icing splatter, but he moved his thumb slowly, deliberately across Sherlock’s cheek, pressing ever so slightly to wipe it off. John’s eyes were suddenly captivated by the little freckles on the rise of Sherlock’s cheek, just above the icing, and the trail of colour it still left on his skin. Without meaning anything by it, without thinking, he moved his thumb to his own lips and sucked the icing away. Sherlock’s pupils dilated at the suggestive gesture, which John had apparently done unconsciously.

“Green,” John said quietly, with a smile, as he moved away, back to his stirring.

“Hmmm?” Sherlock hummed in question, words escaping him in the moment.

“You have green on your face. Finally I have my revenge,” John said with a cheeky smile.

“Oh.” Sherlock’s lips formed a circle as his brain caught up. “Oh right, yes. Ha!” He tried to settle his brain and bring himself back to his task. John hadn’t meant anything by it all. Just friendly teasing. He bent down and grabbed the towels from the floor and set about moving the biscuits silently to some cooling racks so he could place more biscuits on the trays, then get the next batch in the oven.

He turned and without thinking, he used the tea towel to flick at John’s leg. Revenge indeed.

John spun around, icing covered spoon in hand, in shock. “Oh it's like that is it?” he teased, his brow shooting up, recognising the threat of a food war.

“It could be like that,” Sherlock said, raising his brow as well, pausing to see what John would do.

They both started giggling at themselves, and Sherlock adjusted his grip on the tea towel, as if he was ready for battle. John walked closer to stand right in front of Sherlock, spoon poised, spine tall ready for the challenge. But something in Sherlock’s eyes changed when he got that close and all of a sudden the tension between them shifted. John’s smile dropped and he couldn’t take his eyes off Sherlock’s. They were trying to say something without words and John so wanted to hear what it was. He wanted to believe that the things racing around his own head might be reciprocated in his flatmate. In his friend. His best friend. His eyes searched Sherlock’s face for answers, but he wasn’t giving anything away. Sherlock’s eyes had shifted to that shade of blue again, and he was watching John just as closely, but the message wasn’t transmitting loud enough. John couldn’t read it.

Sherlock bent ever so slightly forward and John sucked in a quiet breath, suddenly feeling like Sherlock might actually kiss him. Maybe he was feeling the same, maybe this was the moment that would change everything. He didn’t move, he didn’t dare. What if he bridged the distance and Sherlock had not intended to do that. He would never survive the humiliation. He froze to the spot.

"John, there's something I..."

And then the timer startled them both. Sherlock pulled back and the tension shifted. Sherlock pushed past John and opened the oven to remove the next batch of biscuits and the whole moment was gone.

John stood staring into the void in front of him where Sherlock had been, trying to reconcile what he thought might have been happening, what had Sherlock wanted to say, and what did it all mean?

Posting early as today will be busy for me. Merry Christmas Eve to you all! Thanks for the support and comments and for following along. Hang in there! The next few will lead you to your resolution!!

@lisbeth-kk @helloliriels @totallysilvergirl @221beloved @safedistancefrombeingsmart 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear 

@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@kittenmadnessandtea @whatnext2020 @egregiously-chuffed @chriscalledmesweetie @catlock-holmes

@battledress @kholkate @randomquadballpun @little-owls-things @daltongraham 

@sillygirlsmindpalace @oetkb12 @odditiesandeverything @johnlockficclub @rainstarboii @bheadhe

@hospitableasacactus @wssh13 @br-nz @solarmama-plantsareneat @givemesherbet-blog-blog

@dw91165 @pileofstardust2106 @moonkeller @surprisinglyokay @r4venlyn  

@therealalexisamess-blog @e-b1838 @rhasima @salmonsown @tropelovingpainter 

@westandforships @fuck-off-watson-rp @notjustamumj @melodious-me @sherlocke3d

@otter-von-bismarck @silvergoldsea @calaisreno

[cloudyskydreams]

Yooo I really like that pregnancy ask and I wanted to suggest a what if! Pure angst and drama if you're up to it.

What if the pregnancy didn't go well near the end because S/O's magic is not very high (to begin with! monsters need both parents iirc to have a health about of magic to make a monster.) A couple of days after the baby bone is born, child protective services (the Canadian version of it.) have to take them to their father stating that the mother is in a coma and is unlikely to recover.

((What a way to start the day. Getting a knock on the door only to find a stranger hold a baby that they were so sure it wasn't theirs. AND their s/o is probably going to die because their SOUL magic was sucked up dry to make the baby. Said baby bones looks a bit unhealthy too because they developed without their pappa's magic and is weakly crying.))

((You can decide of s/o recovers or not.))

hhhhhh you guys need to be movie directors or something because the pure plot and drama being thrown at me recently.

S/O recovers because I like that route better having a free reign relationship with your child only to have the possibility of that taken away when your comatosed ex wakes up.

Holy fuck these turned out longer than I expected so I'm just doing 3 if you wanted a different character feel free to request again! Also the holidays are NOT being kind to me so my updates are probably gonna be wack as I deal with the shitshow I call a family hope you guys enjoy and happy holidays!

Undertale:

Sans: Sees the baby bones and kind of zones out as shock runs through his body. Then he hears the word coma and zones back in. "what?" he has them repeat their entire spiel and his soul stops for a second when he hears what happened. He hesitantly accepts the babybones and cradles him to his chest gently.He's not ready for any of this and his world is collapsing around him as he finishes the conversation with CPS. Once they're gone he takes the babybones inside and simply stares at him for a bit as he rocks him back in forth Infront of the door he hasn't moved two steps from. The baby is whining and looking at him is like looking at an exact replica of himself as a babybones. He takes a few deep breaths and chuckles which turn into a full body laugh which turn into sobs as he cradles the baby to his chest. Why didnt he trust you? He still loved you even though he was convinced you had cheated a part of him desperately hoping he was wrong but now that he knows he was it's devastating. He looks for monster food that would be suitable for a babybones hoping to soothe his cry's and get his bones looking healthier. The entire time he's shaking as he rummages through the cabinets. Finds something akin to applesauce and spoonfeeds the little guy. Goes out and picks up a bunch of stuff (good, toys,clothes ect.)when Papyrus gets home. The first night he can't sleep and simply stays awake watching the babybones all night. He vows he's going to be the best dad ever while staring at his baby boys sleeping face a rush of paternal protectiveness rushing over him. He does a good job at taking care of the baby as he has experience since he had to basically raise Papyrus. He visits you once and the guilt destroys him so badly he can't visit you again. It had been a few months when he received a call. Surprise surprise it's you on the other end having just woken up and wanting to see your child immediately. Sans is more than happy to comply and gets to the hospital as soon as he can with the baby who's looking much healthier. Hesitates outside the doorway as he cradles your guys son to his chest. Possibilities and what ifs running through his head as anxiety starts to simmer. When he enters the room you look so relieved and happy to see him which happily surprises him till he realizes you're probably excited to see your baby. He hands the child over and suddenly your crying, the baby's crying, he's crying, all of y'all crying. He apologizes profusely before you can say anything and says he should have believed you how wrong he was and how sorry he is you had to go through everything alone and his grateful he is to see you again. He understands if you don't forgive him but don't expect to be rid of him because he's absolutely sticking around in his son's life.

Edge:Honestly when he sees the child and hears what CPS has to say he thinks he's having a nightmare. He's dreamt of similar situations where your baby actually turned out to be his nothing quiet like this but it's similar enough he's really thinking he's still asleep. Takes the child and thanks the CPS people for their time before going back inside. Trys to soothe the baby's cry's and rocks him gently in his arms. Checks the clock to make sure he has enough time to get to his next appointment in the day and yeah he's got a good bit, wait.... you can't read time in your dreams. He looks back at the clock and gently sets the baby down on the couch as he does the equivalent of pinching himself. Fuck fuck wait he's not dreaming. A flood of cold numbers rushes over him as he remembers what CPS said... He gently scoops the baby back up and shelves his oncoming mental breakdown as he stares down at his son. When Red gets home Edge recruits him as a babysitter (his thought process being he raised me he can watch a baby for an hour or so (red was absolutely stressed tf out))as he runs out to grab supplies and sort himself out. By sort himself out I mean destroying a chunk of a forest with his magic to workout all his anger and devastation. He trys his best to take care of the babybones his brother surprisingly giving good advice every now and then while he figures out how to be a dad. He's extremely gentle with the child and speaks on the most soothing fatherly tone to the little baby. He visits you in the hospitals bi weekly leaving little messages of memorable moments with the baby and some pictures. A few months goes by and one day he receives a call. It's a very frantic you on the other end and he can't help the immense amount of relief he feels as he hears your voice begging him to see your child. He brings the babybones to the hospital and stays quiet as he watches you two cuddling. He doesn't speak up until you thank him for watching the babybones. Tells you there's nothing to thank him for he was doing his job as a father and then it's quiet for a bit more before he hesitantly approaches and bows his head. He apologizes for his actions, for not trusting you, for everything you had to deal with alone. He's not expecting you to forgive him he wouldn't forgive himself but he does want to be apart of the child's life and immediately says so making sure you're aware of his intentions. Most likely to take you to court for custody of you refuse to let him father his child.

Stretch:Was woken up by the knock and answered the door still half asleep. Hears the story, takes the kid, thanks them and closes the door. It takes him like five whole minutes until he's like wait what the fuck. Holds the baby Infront of him by the armpits and looks at his mini lookalike with horror. Holy fucking shit he was wrong? He's a dad?? YOU'RE IN A COMA?? He gets lightheaded for a second and sits down on the couch with the crying baby in his arms. He hesitantly rocks the babybones not really sure what he's doing and immediately calls Blue. He's shaking as he's on the phone with his brother who says he's on the way. When Blue gets there he shows Stretch which foods the baby can eat and how to care for it. Stretch appreciates the help and kind of throws himself into caring for the child instead of thinking about the fact you're in a coma. He's sleeping on a beanbag chair in the nursery and wakes up as soon as the baby starts crying. Every waking moment is spent caring and playing with the babybones. Sometimes late at night he thinks about you and everything he's lost and missed out on but you've given him the best gift he could have ever asked for, a son. He visits you in the hospital occasionally leaving your favorite flower and pictures of the baby he's taken. Surprise surprise a month later when he gets a call and you're alive desperate to see you're baby. He brings the child and is grateful to see you awake when he hands him over. He immediately apologizes he tells you how wonderful his son is and how much he loves him and begs you to let him be apart of the child's life. He understands if you don't want him back as much as he misses you he fucked up he wasn't there and you almost died because he wasn't. He just loves his kid man he will be there for him and you if you let him.

[cinnaleaf]

「 Fall For You | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: your crush takes you to santa’s hometown where he falls for you on a skating rink – literally.

warnings: really, really cheesy fluff, dominican slang, language 🎅🏾: even the best gifts come with a little falling | pt 5 of my ficmas series wc: ~2.7k

You weren’t sure why you agreed to coming to a Christmas themed village to ice skate with Alejandro. It could’ve been the way his eyes lit up when he suggested it, or the fact that he was really good at convincing you to do things you wouldn’t normally do because of his dazzling smile. Either way, you were here now – lacing up your skates and standing on the edge of an ice rink that looked like it was a set piece to a Christmas movie.

The two of you were visiting Rovaniemi for the weekend as a last minute trip he planned to escape Barcelona during the holiday break. The snow fell lazily and settled on wooden poles that were glowing with Christmas lights crisscrossing above the rink. There were families and couples circling the rink with all different levels of skill. Some were gliding around like ice fairies while the others were wiping out everytime the skate touched the ice. The stalls on the sides of the market sold mugs of mulled wine, spiced gingerbread, and waffles slathered in chocolate. It smelled like the epitome of Christmas – cinnamon, sugar, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, and frosty air biting at your nose.

Alejandro stood beside you, fumbling to pull his knit beanie lower over his ears. He stared at the ice curiously. “You know I’ve never done this before, right?” he asked, side eyeing you with a small smile that didn’t really mask the nerves he was trying to hide.

“That makes two of us then” you replied, nudging him with your elbow. “You wanted to come here though. Don’t back down now.”

Alejandro rolled his eyes and muttered something in spanish that you didn’t catch because you were too distracted by a little girl skating on the ice. She wore a pink beanie with a fuzzy pom pom on top paired with a pink glittery scarf as she zipped through the ice. She did a little spin and grinned at both of you, then skated off before you could process the type of skill she had for such a tiny body.

“Oh, she’s showing off” Alejandro said while shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

“Maybe..but it can’t be that hard to skate on solid ice.”

“If you say so....”

The rink wasn’t super big, it was cozy enough to feel magical, even if you lacked the skating ability threatening to ruin the picture perfect postcard illusion. You heard chatters of a group of older women handing out skates while sipping mugs of hot chocolate as you entered the rink.

“Do you think they have insurance...like if someone breaks a leg or something?” you asked.

Alejandro snorted and grabbed your hand while both of you shuffled to the edge of the rink. “Only one way to find out.”

Alejandro stepped on the ice first, still gripping your hand like it could save him from falling. You followed shortly after, gripping onto the rail with your free hand as your skates wobbled underneath you.  The moment his skate touched the icy surface his body jolted forward and he froze, flailing his arms out to balance himself. He looked over his shoulder at you with wide eyes like he was betrayed.

“So...they don’t do balance conditioning in training I guess…” you joked, stepping onto the ice with what you hoped was a lot more confidence than what you felt. The ice was...solid. But it was also slick and unforgiving to anyone who didn’t know to coordinate properly with the slipperiness of it. Your ankles wobbled instantly, and Alejandro tightened his fingers around yours.

“Don’t make any sudden movements” you said, mostly to yourself because you were too scared to move.

Alejandro laughed. “Are you the police? It’s just a skating rink.”

“No. This is a disaster waiting to happen. Look at us.”

The two of you inched forward and Alejandro’s free hand gripped the rail so hard his hands were cramping. A younger boy skated past, showing off as he hopped to one leg, making Alejandro’s hand twitch in response.

“You better not” you warned, knowing exactly how competitive he was.

“I wasn’t going to do anything” he lied while side eying the showoff who couldn’t have been older than 10 years old.

The snow picked up and flurries brushed up against your cheek while also settling onto his beanie. He looked over at you, grinning despite the chaos of neither of you knowing how to ice skate. “This is fun though...right?”

“Yeah. If you have a humiliation kink.”

Alejandro’s laugh echoed across the rink. “You’re so dramatic.”

Before you could reply, his skate slid out from under him and he instinctively reached out for you in the process – meaning both of you went down like a pair of dominos. The ice was cold and wet against your knees when you landed on the ground. You were mortified, yet Alejandro thought it was hilarious.

“Are you good down there?” an older man called out in a thick Finnish accent from off to the side. “That one looks like it hurt!”

“We’re fine!” Alejandro yelled while waving the man off, his other hand was still gripping yours as you both tried to regain a semblance of dignity. “Ay coño (oh damn), are we really that bad at this?”

He started laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe, tipping his head back as he sprawled on the ice in a snow angel position. You weren’t doing much better. Your hands were pressed against the freezing surface and your knees were tucked as you tried to push yourself up. But every time you moved, your skates fell under you and sent you sliding sideways.

“I swear you’re useless” you huffed, but you were slightly smiling.

“Me?” he shot back, propping up on his elbows. “What did I do?”

“You dragged us here knowing damn well neither of us know how to skate.”

“I thought it was a good idea.” he said between chuckles while still trying to get off the icy floor. “We’re bonding. It’s romantic.”

“This is not romantic” you argued, flopping back onto the ice as your legs wobbled again when you tried to get back up. “We look dumb. No one else here is struggling this much! I can’t even get up!”

Just then, the pink scarf girl gracefully spun past you, twirling on her skates like she was a ballerina on ice. Alejandro scoffed, not believing his eyes. “Yeah, she’s doing that on purpose. That little girl is a paid actor.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the blooming warmth in your chest from how handsome he looked, even if he couldn’t skate and looked like Bambi right now. His beanie was crooked and there were snowflakes dusting over part of his curls that weren’t covered. 

Alejandro shifted to sit up just as the girl executed another flawless spin. “She’s pissing me off” he jerked his chin toward the little girl. “Is she practising for the winter olympics or what?”

“She’s like 8 years old” you contested, wiping your damp hands on your coat while glaring at the skates as if it wasn’t your terrible coordination keeping you on the ground. “You’re beefing with a literal child.”

“I’m not beefing” he answered way too defensively for someone not beefing. “She’s just making us look bad.”

“Um, no. We’re making ourselves look bad” you deadpanned, bracing your hand on the ice to try and stand up again. That was a mistake. A big one. The moment you shifted to move, the skate slid out and you went down again with a dramatic thud. Alejandro started laughing so hard he started wheezing and rolling on his side like it was the funniest thing he ever saw. “You’re not as graceful with your falls like I am.”

“Shut up and help me!” you snapped, but you really wanted to laugh too.

“Alright! Chill out on me, don’t yell.” He got up and scooted toward you in a penguin shuffle type movement. “I’m coming to the rescue.” He reached out again, tightening his fingers around yours like he was about to get it right this time around. For a second you thought it may actually work....until his other skate slid and gravity pulled both of you down again. You both hit the ice with a thud, tangled together in an awkward mess.

“You are sooo bad at this” you wheezed, clutching your stomach because you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Me?” Alejandro’s head shot up with a grin full of teeth and mischief. “You keep bringing me down every time!”

“You literally dragged me down first” you shot back, swatting at his arm playfully.

“You could’ve stayed up!” he argued, gesturing wildly. “There’s railing all over. You’re supposed to hang on to that and be my support system!”

You squinted at him, trying to hold back your laughter and failing miserably. “How am I supposed to support you when you can’t even stay upright for 5 seconds?”

Alejandro’s jaw dropped and he shook his head. “That’s not true. I’m athletic.”

“Maybe on the pitch but definitely not on ice.”

Alejandro side eyed at you, offended. “Tu si hablas mierda (you’re chatting shit)” he muttered under his breath while shaking his head.

“Say it again louder so I can hear it” you challenged, sitting back on the ice like you had all the time in the world.

“Nah” he said while grinning. “You don’t need to hear it but it’s the truth. You’re talking nonsense.”

You rolled your eyes and let out a groan. “Ale..you’ve been on the ice for less than 20 minutes and you’ve been on the ground for most of them.”

“Damn” He placed a hand on his chest like he was so hurt. “Tu ves? (kinda like ‘oh yeah?’) This is why I can’t take you anywhere. Always coming for me.”

“You dragged me here! I wanted to do the reindeer safari instead!”

“Yeah but I thought this would be cuter” He gestured toward the snow falling gently around you. “The lights and the snow...it’s romantic, no?”

“No. We literally look like two penguins who’ve never been on ice before.” you scoffed, trying to shuffle back onto your knees but it was no use, you were failing miserably.

Alejandro threw his head back and started laughing at you. “Nah, chill. Penguins are elegant. We’re a lot worse. We look like those inflatable things at car dealerships.”

“Well...you’re not wrong about that” you bit back your grin as he reached out for your hand to try and help you up, but you didn’t trust him at all.

“If you make me fall again I swear…” you warned while eyeing him suspiciously.

“Relaxxx. I got you. De verdad. (forreal)”

You reluctantly let him pull you up to your knees and it seemed like you may actually be able to get up for once, but then he lost his footing again and he yelped, toppling forward to take you down with him again. Alejandro groaned dramatically, sprawled on top of you like he was so done with life. “Maldita sea, pero esta vaina me quiere matar! (damn this shit is trying to kill me)” he muttered while shaking his head.

“Aww” you giggled while trying to pull him off, but he was too busy pouting about his latest fall. “Are you okay?” You were trying to sound serious and be helpful but the fact that he literally couldn’t get up without falling over again had you in stitches. 

“No.” he grumbled, lifting his head just enough to glare at you while also pouting like a child. “This shit hurts.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed some snow that had accumulated on his curls due to his beanie falling off in the process of the fall. “Awww pobrecito (poor baby). Sana sana colita de rana (heal heal little frog)” you started a nursery rhyme meant for children when they got hurt in a teasing tone, rubbing your hand over his shoulder like you were fixing his imaginary injury.

“Yo stop. That’s for little kids. You’re making it worse!”

You ignored him, finishing the nursery rhyme just to piss him off. “Si no sanas hoy, sanaras mañana (if you dont heal today you’ll heal tomorrow).” you sang softly while still rubbing his imaginary wounds, though it was mostly his pride that was injured.

He smirked at you as his pout twisted into a smile. “Tu ere mala loco (you’re crazy). You know that, right?”

“I’m helping!” you gasped in shock.

“Nah tu ta pasa (you’re doing too much). You’re embarrassing me.”

You kissed your teeth at his dramatics, poking his shoulder dramatically. “No. You’re embarrassing yourself and I’m trying to soften the blow. You’ve been on the ground more than you’ve been on your feet. Just get up without thinking about it too much.”

Alejandro huffed and braced his hands on the ice as if he was preparing to get up, but he was still very clearly thinking about it too much. “Aight. I’m about to get up this time. No overthinking.”

“And probably no balance either.” you teased, reaching out to brush your hands over the earring in his ear. “How can you dribble in rain during a match but not manage a single step on ice?”

“Different terrains. And grass isn’t this slippery.” he contested, tilting his head a little so your fingers would brush against his skin.

“Mmm..sounds like an excuse to me but okay,” you muttered while still playing with his earring.

“Keep playing with my ear like that and I’m staying down here on purpose.”

“Don’t tempt me” you replied, smirking while giving his earring a flick.

The corners of his eyes turned into a smize as he widely grinned at you. “Nah you’re a distraction.” He shifted around to push himself up again. “Watch this. I’m about to–”

He fell again. No grace, no coordination or balance at all. He came crashing down right back onto you and you bursted out laughing again.

“You’re so bad at this. The reindeer safari was a safer option.”

“This ice is just plotting against me” he complained, but he wasn’t all that mad judging by the grin on his face.

“No..that’s all you.” You wiped away the water from the melted ice on his face, but this time he leaned into your touch a little more. Neither of you said anything else as the skates whizzed past and the laughter from the rink carried through. The only thing you were focused on in that moment was how close your faces were and the sight of your breaths in the cold, frosty air. Alejandro’s eyes flicked to yours, meeting your gaze.

“You have snow on your lashes” he murmured, reaching up to gently brush the flakes away with his thumb.

“So do you” you whispered back.

A single snowflake drifted down from the sky and landed directly on your bottom lip. Alejandro’s gaze followed it, his breath visible in the cold as he leaned in.

“I got it,” he said softly. His lips brushed against yours, melting the snowflake while also stealing the breath from your lungs. The kiss wasn’t anything awkward or rushed, it was perfect and warmed you in the best way despite the cutting chill of the finnish air. Alejandro pulled back just slightly, licking over his lips but still close enough to steal another kiss if he really wanted to. He was widely grinning now. “Dime princesa (tell me)” he murmured in a teasing voice. “Is this romantic enough for you now?”

You giggled softly, shaking your head as your fingers brushed over his cheeks, still damp from the melting ice. “I think you made your point.” Your cheeks were hurting from all the laughter and smiles but you couldn’t deny this was sort of romantic...in a really bad, cheesy rom com sort of way. “But do a little research next time so we can have romance without all the bruises.”

Alejandro chuckled as he shifted to lay back on the ice, neither of you getting up as you both stared at the snow fall from the sky. There were a lot more skaters circling around you now as they zipped past in their own little world.

“Alright. Reindeer safari next time. But you have to admit this was worth it for the kiss..”

You smiled, flicking a bit of snow off his nose. “Maybe…. but you really should work on staying upright though.”

Alejandro smirked, leaning in to melt away another snowflake that landed on your lips. “Nah. I’m okay with falling. Especially if it’s for you.”