#Colorado word cloud

[my-type-art]

Colorado Pride Typography Art

[covenofagatha]

All that's left to burn (Part 1)

Sequel to A dance with death (and her wife)

Your first few days on the run with Agatha and Rio aren't exactly what you thought they'd be like

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: murder, masturbation, oral sex

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

It’s been just over twenty-four hours since you burned down every last part of your former life and went on the run with two notorious serial killers.

Two days since you chose them over everything you ever knew, two women who were practically strangers – you’d only really known them for less than a few months, but something inside you knows that you’ve been waiting for them. 

Maybe ever since that day in the woods. 

The memory still shocks you a little, killing that woman in the woods for no real good reason, but it changed something in your brain, even if you didn’t recognize that until you got the lost memory back.

And here you are now. 

After burning your house down in Miami, you, Agatha, and Rio had driven almost the entire night and made it just across the Florida-Georgia border when the sun started to break through the clouds. 

Agatha was exhausted from driving and decided to find a cheap motel to spend the day in. You hadn’t been able to sleep the entire car ride; your leg bounced with adrenaline the whole way, but the moment the three of you laid down in the queen bed, you passed out for hours. 

It was after you had all woken up that you decided it would be safer to travel by night, less traffic and less police. You were still too close to Miami, as far as any of you were concerned, and you needed to get out west fast. 

To the public, you and The Witch and Lady Death were dead. You saw this on the news, and you felt immense relief that your plan had worked. However, this meant that you needed to be incredibly careful going out in public, so you stocked up on vending machine food and drinks and got in the car the second night of being on the run, and Agatha pulled out of the Valdosta motel parking lot. 

The goal is to make it to Mississippi tonight. 

“Can you pass me some M&Ms?” Rio asks from the front seat, and you shovel a handful into your mouth before passing the bag to her. 

While on the drive last night, you were awake and exhilarated, now you’re just bored. 

You stare out the window at the dark expanse of the road and try to count street lights just so you’ll have something to do. 

“Are we almost there yet?” You ask absentmindedly, tracing your finger over the handle of the car. Has it been five minutes or five hours since you left the motel? All you know is that it seems like you’ve been on this road forever. And you can’t use the toll roads without fear of being caught on camera, so it’ll take even longer. 

Agatha snorts. “It’s been an hour, superstar. Pass me a coke?” You reach into the plastic bag of soft drinks and press a can into her hand. She brings it to her mouth and uses her teeth to pop open the pull tab. 

There’s a flicker of heat in your stomach. 

You shift around in your seat so you’re able to prop your legs up across the back. “So where are we trying to get to?” 

“Colorado, maybe?” Rio suggests. “Anywhere sort of in the middle that doesn’t have a ton of people. We just need to sort of lay low.” 

There’s a fly in the car and it buzzes in front of your face. You swat at it before asking, “For how long? Just a few months or something?” 

Agatha peeks back at you over her shoulder. “For forever, honey. You killed the director of an FBI branch. We’ve killed over ten people in Westview. We’re supposed to be dead. We’re going to have mundane, simple jobs, and rent a small house. Nothing that could draw attention to ourselves.”

“So…” You trail off with a frown. It’s hard to figure out how to ask what you’re really wondering. “Like, I know that The Witch and Lady Death can’t ever kill again, but–” 

“You’ve got a taste for blood now, hm?” Rio jokes but it makes your cheeks heat up. It sounds bad when she says it like that, but there’s still something in your mind that reminds you how good it felt to kill Tony. 

Agatha’s hands tighten on the steering wheel and you can see her white knuckles even in the night. “No more death. We killed to get you, and you killed to get us. There’s no need for any of it anymore. Especially now.” 

The fly bites your hand and you jump. It immediately starts to sting and you furiously itch at it. 

Both of them crane their necks to look at you because you haven’t answered. “No more death?” Rio asks, but you know it’s not really a question. 

“Yeah,” you agree. This is good. You don’t need it, you have them. The two women who make you feel more than anything ever has. A quiet life in Colorado is exactly what you need. You were certainly overworked before, so having a much more relaxing job will be so good. 

Maybe you could work at a bookstore or a library. Spend the day reading, and then come home to your little cottage in the woods and cuddle with Agatha and Rio by the fireplace. You can go hiking and fishing and mountain-climbing – you can have a normal life. 

You also think about everything in the cabin that the three of you could get up to and you feel wetness collecting in your underwear. Rio eating you out. Your fingers in Agatha’s pussy. Rio sitting on your face. Agatha’s strap thrusting into you. 

The fantasies last you another hour or so before you’re back to being bored. You make a game out of throwing chips up into the air and trying to catch them in your mouth. It doesn’t go very well and soon there’s crumbs littering the floor. 

Finally, about four hours into the drive, Agatha stops for gas. You get out with the two of them to stretch your legs and go inside to use the bathroom. Rio passes you a twenty dollar bill to get some food and you pick out three slices of pizza. 

The television behind the cash register is on the news channel and you can hear hints of it as you browse the candy aisle. 

“The search has continued on the house of former FBI agent Y/N Y/L/N in Miami, Florida. It was burned down two nights ago and police seem to think that New Jersey serial killers ‘The Witch’ and ‘Lady Death’ were involved. Former agent Y/L/N was in Westview working on their case, but was brought back to her home state by the director of the Miami branch, Tony Stark.” 

You close your eyes briefly at his name, knowing what's coming next, and pull your jacket hood up over your head. The man behind the register seems none-the-wiser and you can see in the reflection of his computer screen in the mirror behind him that he’s on an online gambling site. 

“...was killed in his home last week by the same methods as were used in the murders in Westview. The theory remains that ‘The Witch’ and ‘Lady Death’ followed the agent and the director back to Miami and while trying to get rid of them, met their ends in a house fire. It is unclear how that fire started, and there has been no trace of any human remains thus far, but the search will continue and any further updates will be provided here.” 

Heart pounding in your chest, you pick up a pack of powdered donuts and walk up to the register with your eyes peeled to the ground. The man rings it up and tells you the total, but before he can get a good look at you, you drop the bill on the counter and hurry back out to the car. 

Agatha and Rio are talking in hushed voices, but quickly stop when you get to them, breathing fast. 

“We’re on the news,” you say rushedly. “They’re going through my house, they put the pieces together like we wanted, but they haven’t found any remains. What happens when they don’t find any? What if they figure out we’re still alive?” Your voice gets high and shrill as you keep talking and Rio takes the food from your hands while Agatha puts her hands on your shoulders. 

“Honey, you need to calm down,” she soothes, rubbing gently. She breathes in and out slowly, forcing you to follow. “It’s going to be okay. They’ll think our bodies burned in the fire. They won’t be able to find us.” 

“What happened to your hand?” Rio asks, pointing at the skin you’ve scratched raw. 

You instinctively pull your sleeve over it. “I got a bug bite. It was itching.” And as you say it, the bite starts to tingle. You scrape your nails around it some more.

They give you a weird look but don’t say anything. “Well, we’re about three hours from Jackson,” Agatha says. “Think we can make it?” 

Rio and you both nod and you’re back in the car. It’s a little past midnight, so you try and lay your head against the window to get some sleep, but it doesn’t come. You’re too antsy, too restless, but you don’t know why. 

The itch in your hand is only getting worse, too. It feels like it runs below the surface, connected to something deeper inside you. No matter how hard you scratch, it isn’t satisfied. 

“You really don’t think they’ll figure out we’re still alive?” You ask quietly. 

There isn’t an answer for a while and you wonder if either of them heard you. You think Rio might be asleep. Finally, Agatha says, “I think we’ll be okay, sweetheart. Is that what’s got you so worked up?” She turns back to look at you and there’s a twinkle in your eyes that takes your mind off the pain in your hand. 

“I think so,” you guess, but it doesn’t feel right to your brain. “I don’t know, it just feels like there’s something else. Like, in my head.” 

Agatha smirks. “You know what would help clear your mind?” 

It makes your jaw fall open a bit and heat courses through you at the suggestion. “Wait – really?” 

“Yeah, superstar,” she says and flexes her long, veiny fingers against the steering wheel. The sight of them makes your mouth run dry. “Why don’t you touch yourself?”

That’s all it takes to convince you. Rio’s heavy breathing and lolled head on her seatbelt confirms that she is asleep, but you have never been more wide awake. You position one leg up on the seat and the other on the ground and slide your hand into your pants. 

You’re wet and the brush of your fingertips against your clit makes your hips jump. It feels good and you spend a few minutes rubbing it and getting yourself more turned on. 

Agatha keeps looking back every now and then to smile at you, eyes flicking from your face down to your crotch and then back to the road. You press harder against your clit, but something is missing. 

“Agatha,” you gasp out, needing more. You can remember the ache that you felt when you’re around both of them, the way your body needs to be filled, but the pleasure you feel now isn’t even half of that. 

“What’s wrong, baby girl? Wish those were my fingers?” She taunts and your hips buck. There we go. A particularly good swipe against your clit pulls a small moan from your lips. 

You nod before realizing she can’t see you. “Yes,” you breathe. 

She sighs wistfully. “I do, too. I love the way your pussy feels around me, how tight and wet and warm you are. I love how responsive you get for me, how just the lightest touch is enough to make you clench around me.�� 

You slide a finger into yourself and start to move it, grunting with the effort. “Yeah, fuck,” you say, trying to force yourself to get into it. Why are you struggling right now? There’s almost a disconnect between your brain and the hand between your legs. 

Everything feels so muted. 

Doubling-down on the circles around your clit, you try to lose yourself in a fantasy. Agatha and Rio fucking you, you fucking them, blood– a spark jumps in your veins. 

“I love when you cum around my fingers,” Agatha continues, jolting you out of your thoughts. Thankfully, because what was that? “You look so pretty when you do, baby.” 

But if you had even anything resembling an orgasm building, it’s gone now. You frustratedly keep fucking yourself, trying to jump-start those feelings again, but you might as well be rubbing your leg with the amount of pleasure you’re getting. 

You give up and pull your hand out of your pants with a groan and Agatha looks back in surprise. “Already?” she asks, sounding kind of smug and you nod sheepishly with an awkward chuckle. 

You’re not sure you could explain what just happened so it's easier to just lie. You were feeling into it, you were turned on, but then it all just…fizzled out.  

After wiping your hand on a napkin, you attempt to find a comfortable position to settle in and lay your head on the window to try and get some sleep. 

But it doesn’t come and you spend the next two and a half hours staring at nothing, wondering what the hell is wrong with you. 

The motel in Jackson, Mississippi is nothing short of a dump. The buildings are graffitied and look dilapidated, beer bottles and Monster energy cans litter the walkways, and there’s confederate flags on the inside of windows in some of the rooms. The walkways are dimly lit, looking ominous and eerie in the dark morning, and half the motel sign is broken. 

The perfect place if you’re trying to blend in and not be found. As if anyone would ever come looking at this place. 

“Think we can just break into one of the rooms and avoid having to talk to whoever runs this place?” Rio asks, having woken up when Agatha parked. 

You scratch your hand before realizing the skin doesn’t even itch anymore. 

The three of you stare in silence at where you’ll be spending the next twelve hours or so, before there’s a ding that makes you jump and Agatha swears. 

The oil light is on. 

“You know, when those things turn on, you really have a while before you actually have to get it changed,” you volunteer helpfully. 

The look on Rio’s face when she turns around to face you tells you that you shouldn’t have said anything. “Yeah, let’s take that chance and break down on the side of the road halfway to Colorado.” 

You almost snap back, a flash of annoyance streaking through you, but decide to let it go. The logical part in your brain knows that you’re just irritated because you’ve spent half of the last forty-eight hours cooped up in a car. 

The itch is back. 

“How about I go to a store and get whatever we need for an oil change? I’ll come back and get it done,” Rio offers. “Easier than going someplace for it and spending that kind of money and risk being recognized.” You want to point out that both of those consequences are also true at the grocery store, but you bite your lip. 

Although, the thought of Rio with grease smudges definitely piques your interest. Maybe that’ll be enough to get you off. 

Agatha looks back at you. “Let’s get the stuff from the back and check in.” 

‘The stuff from the back’ includes three small suitcases of all the belongings the three of you have left, and whatever else you may have bought on the way. The three of you walk into the office. 

The floor in the lobby – if you could even call it that, with the two chairs, a table, and leaking coffee machine – is sticky with something that you don’t even want to know, and the harsh bioluminescent light hurts your eyes after being outside in the dark. There’s a woman loudly snapping her gum behind the front desk and she gives you a nasty look. 

“What?” She snarls bluntly in a thick Southern drawl, and you can’t help but imagine what it would be like to slit her throat. 

No, you don’t do that anymore. You can’t keep thinking like that. Since when did you turn into that kind of person?

Your hand itches again and you scratch it a few times. 

“Hi,” Agatha says politely. “We’d like to get a room, please.” 

The woman’s eyes narrow and look back and forth between the three of you. You almost groan. “Just one room?” She asks suspiciously. 

“Yes?” Agatha says a bit rougher this time, like she’s daring her to keep asking questions. You kind of hope she does, just so you can watch Agatha lose her temper. 

But she doesn’t, instead she just types something into her computer and hands over a key to Agatha. “Room thirteen. Two beds, of course. And there should be a pullout.” Like the thought of more than one woman in a bed is scandalous. 

This time you overtly snort and you can see the woman’s cheek twitch. Agatha thanks her and you and Rio follow her back outside and down the winding sidewalk. Rio heads to the car to get the stuff for the oil change. 

There’s a door open to one of the rooms with an older man sitting inside in a tank top and boxers watching television. He smirks – or at least that’s what you think he’s trying to do, it’s hard to tell – and wiggles his eyebrows before letting out a low whistle. You stiffen and walk faster. 

The room looks exactly like you thought it would. Something that looks suspiciously like mold is on the peeling wallpaper, it’s dank and dusty, and the light doesn’t turn on when you flip the switch. 

“Are those stains on the bed?” Agatha asks with disgust, moving cautiously closer to inspect them, and you feel red hot-blooded rage boil in your veins. 

This isn’t what you imagined when you ran away with them. Although, you’re not sure what you were expecting. Were you really such a fool to think that it would be paradise? 

No, but you didn’t think you’d have to spend a day in a place like this. You furiously scratch at your hand until Agatha notices and comes back over to you. 

“Hey,” she murmurs gently. You know how brutal she can be, you’ve seen it first hand, and yet she is also so kind. It tugs at your heart. Is it weird to remember how nice she was to you when you met her in that clearing at the age of ten? “I know this isn’t…ideal.” You bark out a laugh. “It’s just for the day. Maybe tomorrow we find a bit nicer of a place, maybe spend a bit longer there. I know it’s been a lot. But you’ve been so good for us, honey. And it’ll get better.Thank you.” 

She pulls you into a hug and you melt into her arms, feeling the anger subside a little. 

Agatha presses a kiss into your hair. “And, without killing people, we won’t have to be on the lookout constantly. Just hang in there a bit longer.” 

Your body tenses ever just the slightest unconsciously as you nod. There’s a sinking feeling in your gut – why does that make you feel so shitty? And why does it feel like your itch has spread all over your skin. 

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. 

Her hands start to stroke up and down your back, trying to ignite heat inside you. “In the meantime though, want to try out these beds? Two options to choose from.” Her tone is light and joking, and her attempt to flirt should be working, you really do try to be affected. 

There’s no reaction in your body. Fuck. 

You pull back and force a smile. “I think I’m going to go see if the vending machine has any Chex-mix. I’ve been craving some.” If she’s disappointed, she doesn’t show it. 

Agatha just laughs and pats your ass and you grab a few dollar bills and Rio’s knife from the table and slide them into your pocket. You’ve become a little paranoid and would rather not be caught unaware. 

The overhead lights flicker as you walk underneath them to the machines tucked around the corner that you passed on your way to the room. Saying a little prayer that they actually work, you press the button for a Sprite and, much to your dismay, they don’t have Chex-mix so you choose a bag of Doritos. 

The graffiti next to you on the walls draws you in. On one panel, there’s what looks like a sword and then a circle with a five-point star drawn inside it. All in red. 

You frown. Does it mean something? 

“Hey, pretty girl,” someone says behind you and you whirl around to find the man from the room with the open door standing there. Now that he’s a few feet away from you, you can practically smell the stench oozing off him in waves, his teeth yellow and cracked, and a few bushy chest hairs peeking out from under his  wrinkled white wife-beater. 

Heart beating fast in your chest, you back up until you hit the vending machine. “Um,” you stammer. Should you call for help? Agatha would probably be able to hear you if you screamed. 

So would everyone else. And the last thing you need is for the entire motel to hear you. 

“You know,” he says, tapping a dirty fingernail to his lips. “When I first saw you, I thought you looked familiar. Thought maybe I’d seen you in some video or something.” 

Your nose wrinkles at the implication. 

“But then, as I was watching the news, it hit me.” He jabs his finger in your direction. “You’re that agent whose house got burned down.” 

Your heart starts thumping so loud you can hear it. Can he hear it? “No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say quickly. All your senses have become heightened, it’s like you’re on high alert. The itch inside you has grown, completely taken over you, and you scratch at the bug bite like it’s going to do a single damn thing. 

His grin is putrid. “Yeah, you are. They’ve got a nice reward for anyone who can offer information about it. Although, think I might just keep you for myself.” He lunges forward and before you can think about it, you’ve drawn the knife from your pocket and stabbed it into his gut. His eyes go wide with shock and he makes  a small noise. 

And when you take it roughly and he falls to the floor, you gasp as heat floods through your body. 

This – this is what you’ve been missing. The exhilaration and the way it makes you feel alive, how could you ever live without it now? You’ve tasted it, you’re too far gone, this is who you are now. 

And the ache between your legs is back with a vengeance. Kicking the man for good measure as he bleeds out on the ground, you walk back to your room, where Agatha is perched carefully on the side of the bed. 

Your body is vibrating. The itch has become something more, a physical manifestation of your need. 

“Did you get anything?” Agatha asks, looking at your empty hands – you forgot to get your snacks, but you don’t care. 

You don’t say anything, just walk over to her and push her onto her back on the bed. She makes a sound and picks her head up, but you quickly kick off your pants and underwear over your shoes and move to straddle her body, the bloody knife in your pocket making a thud when it hits the floor. You reach down between your legs and swipe, gathering your wetness and keening at how good it feels. 

You’re already closer than you were in the car, by a mile. 

Holding your glistening fingertips to Agatha’s lips, she gives you a wicked grin before enveloping them into your mouth. Your hips jerk and a ragged breath leaves your mouth. 

“Look at you, thinking you’re in charge,” she says and you huff. You know you don’t have a lot of time, anyone could find the man now – he might not even be dead! – and you don’t know if there were cameras. 

Everything could be at risk, but you couldn’t care less, because you need this too bad. Your skin is burning with a heat you haven’t felt since they came back for you after you killed Tony for them. 

So you crawl the rest of the way and sink your fingers into Agatha’s long dark hair, looking down at her and finding her looking just as excited as you are, and lower your sopping pussy onto her face. 

She licks through your folds with her flat tongue, moaning at how wet you are, and you whimper, slowly rolling your hips. Agatha’s hands grab onto your ass and dig her nails in so she can help you start to grind as she devours you, and fuck, it feels too good. 

“Agatha, oh my god,” you moan when her tongue swirls around your clit and then sucks on it, your body spasming on top of her. She lets out a muffled sound against you and the vibrations travel through your body. 

Your head falls back in pleasure, fully riding her mouth now, and your hands push up under your shirt to tug on your nipples through your bra. Your hips stutter and your rhythm falters and she knows that you’re close, can feel your clit throbbing in her mouth, and she doubles her efforts, lapping and sucking and licking, her hot tongue on your wet pussy and fuck–

She roughly lashes her tongue and you pinch your nipples and the heat inside you is getting worse, it’s building up, you can’t take it, Agatha scrapes her teeth against your clit, and you cum all over her face with a loud moan. 

Agatha guides you through the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, cleaning up the mess that’s still between your legs, and you fall back so you’re sitting on her chest. 

The itch, both on your hand and inside you, is completely gone. 

Agatha rubs her hands up and down your thighs while chuckling. “What was that, honey?” 

You bite your lip guiltily, about to tell her everything, when the door gets thrown open. You jump and scramble to get off Agatha, worried that maybe it’s the homophobic receptionist, but it’s Rio. 

And she looks…weird. “There’s a man who’s been stabbed out by the vending machine,” she says calmly, looking between you and Agatha with an eyebrow raised. “You two know anything about that?” 

Agatha’s attention turns from her wife to you, and you squirm under both of their scrutinizing gazes. 

“We might need to leave a little earlier than expected,” you say apologetically. 

Agatha and Rio just sigh.  

[pickingupmymercedes]

Nothing without you - Lewis Hamilton

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Nothing without you - The Weeknd - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: fluff (there's mentions of the Ferrari move though)

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

The winter morning in the Colorado cabin was serene, the kind of calm that only existed far away from the buzz of cities. Outside, thick snow covered the ground, and Lewis’s friends had just left for the slopes, their laughter lingering in the frosty air.

Y/n stood by the window, watching their figures disappear into the trees, her breath fogging the glass slightly. She’d sensed something off with Lewis since that call in the early hours, the subtle shift in his demeanor that he tried to hide from her, but she knew better.

“Lewis,” she called softly, pulling his attention from the screen. He glanced up at her, his dark eyes clouded with something she couldn’t quite place yet. “Why don’t we stay behind today? Take the day for ourselves.”

The warmth from the fireplace crackled behind her as she turned, her eyes landing on Lewis, who sat at the large wooden table, idly running his hand over his phone.

He wasn’t fully present; that much was clear.

He blinked at her, and there was a moment of hesitation before he nodded, standing up slowly as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

He made his way to the plush couch near the fireplace, and Y/n followed, feeling the tension in the air.

She sat beside him, close enough to feel his warmth but far enough to give him space.

“You’re quiet” she said gently, her voice a soft melody in the quiet cabin. “Something’s up.”

Lewis let out a long breath, leaning back into the couch and running a hand over his face. His jaw clenched, a telltale sign that he was holding back, but with Y/n, he never could, not for long.

“Vasseur called me earlier. I’ve been offered a seat” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Y/n’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. It was no secret that Ferrari was every F1 driver’s dream—their history intertwined with the sport’s own history.

But she knew the possibility had left his mind years ago. The promise of a retirement with Mercedes a quiet and comforting fate to eventually end his career, whenever he decided it was time to do so.

She shifted closer, her hand resting lightly on his knee. “That’s a huge offer,” she said softly. “You don’t seem excited though”

Lewis tilted his head back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling as if it held the answers he sought. “It’s Ferrari. It’s the dream. But...it’s so much change. Leaving behind the people who’ve been with me for more than ten years. It feels like I’m betraying them.”

She could hear the pain in his voice, the doubt woven into every word. “It’s not betrayal to take an opportunity like this, Lewis” she said gently. “You’ve given Mercedes your everything these years.”

He turned to look at her then, his expression conflicted. “It’s not just that” he admitted taking a breather. “It’s more time in Monaco, Maranello... less in London or LA. Our whole life would shift. And I don’t want to take you away from everything you’ve built, just because I need a new challenge.”

Y/n’s heart softened at his words, the genuine concern in his voice. Lewis had always been considerate, never wanting to make her feel like she was sacrificing too much for his career.

But she had long since made peace with the fact that being with him meant a life of potential changes, and that was something she had embraced.

She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers as she spoke. “Lewis, if it was our first years together, if things were still fragile… but my work hasn’t been tied to one place for a while now. If we need to base ourselves more in Monaco or Italy, we’ll figure it out.”

He exhaled, a bit of relief and gratitude passing through him, but the weight still lingered. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re compromising your life away for me.”

“I guarantee you, I’m not. Not with this” she said firmly, her eyes locking onto his with determination. “You’ve always supported me in everything, so let me do the same for you.”

Lewis’s expression softened, his fingers tightening around hers. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”

Y/n smiled, leaning in closer. Lewis shifted, pulling her onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her waist as she settled against him. He buried his face in her neck, and she felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease.

“I just don’t want to mess this up” he murmured against her skin; his voice almost vulnerable.

Y/n gently ran her fingers through his loose curls, her touch light and reassuring. “You’re not going to mess anything up, you’re Lewis fucking Hamilton”

He pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching hers. “I don’t thing I’ve ever been this scared before” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “not even leaving Mclaren.”

Y/n cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “That’s because it’s not just about the racing anymore. There’s a lot at stake. Do you think it’s worth it?”  

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes tracing every feature of her face as if committing it to memory. “I know it is” he whispered; his voice thick but certain.

She smiled softly, her heart swelling with love for the man in front of her. “Then we’re going to have to learn italian, after all”

Lewis’s lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her nose, and finally her lips. The kiss was slow, filled with all the words he couldn’t quite express.

When they pulled back, Y/n rested her forehead against his, her voice barely above a whisper. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

He nodded, the weight of her words sinking in, grounding him. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his hands resting on her waist, holding her close. “For putting up with all of this.”

Y/n chuckled softly, her fingers tracing the lines of his collarbone. “You’re worth it, Lewis. Every part of what you bring is worth this.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the soft hum of the wind outside. It wasn’t until later, when the light from the morning sun started to filter through the large cabin windows, that Lewis finally spoke again.

“I think I’m going to do it” he said quietly, his voice steady now, the doubt no longer hanging over him. “Ferrari.”

Y/n smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Ferrari will have another multi champion then”

Lewis pulled her closer, resting his chin on top of her shoulder. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice full of conviction.

“I love you” Y/n whispered, her arms wrapped tightly around him as they sat in the warmth of the cabin, ready to face whatever came next.

______________________________________________________________

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[chimcess]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other Tags: Football Player!Hoseok, Teacher!Reader, Firefighter!Namjoon, Older Brother!Namjoon, Architect!Taehyung, Older Brother!Taehyung, Property Developer!Jungkook Genre: Christmas AU, Strangers to Lovers AU, Crack (low-key), Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Smut Word Count: 27.1k+ Summary: It's Christmas, but the HOA is being a real Grinch. Hoseok is determined to save the holiday for his niece and nephew, but he'll need some help to pull it off. With a little teamwork from the trio living across the street, he might just be able to outsmart the HOA and make this a Christmas to remember. Warnings: HOA being the devil (wow, what a surprise...), Jealous!Taehyung, Namjoon is so over his shit, Reader too, Tae and Joon are both overprotective, Hoseok is a really great uncle, Halmark Christmas movie ass storyline, strong language, sexual tension, slight public exposure (completely on accident), kissing, tongue kissing, making out, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, protected sex (wrap it up), lowkey soft dom Hoseok, handjob, multiple orgasms, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Happy holidays!

The cold had settled in early this year, and Hoseok felt it in every corner of Colorado. December wasn't even over, but winter had already made itself comfortable, like an uninvited guest who planned to overstay. This wasn't the sharp, biting cold he knew from Illinois—the kind that slapped you in the face and stole your breath. No, Colorado's chill was cunning. It lingered just out of sight, waiting to slip into your bones when you least expected it.

Heated seats in his Land Rover weren't just a fancy perk; they were a necessity. Survival gear, really. His friends teased him about his top three reasons for loving his car. Number one was always the sound system—naturally. But if Namjoon was asking, he'd wax poetic about the impeccable safety ratings.

He hadn't meant to drive four hours from Denver to Salida on a whim. But when his sister Ji-woo called yesterday, her voice frayed at the edges, everything else took a backseat. She'd offered him a home-cooked meal, which was suspicious in itself. Ji-woo didn't cook unless there was a crisis. An invitation for a "warm, homemade dinner" was basically code red.

Without a second thought, he'd tossed an overnight bag into the backseat and hit the road. As he navigated through her labyrinth of a neighborhood—every house a carbon copy of the last—he understood why she always complained about getting lost. It was like driving through a real-life game of Spot the Difference, except there were no differences.

But it wasn't the monotony that made him pause when he pulled up to her house. It was the darkness. No Christmas lights twinkling in the frost, no inflatable reindeer wobbling on the lawn. Nothing. Ji-woo, who usually turned her home into a festive explosion the day after Thanksgiving, had left it bare. Hoseok pulled his jacket tighter as he stepped out, boots crunching on the icy driveway. He knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the eerily quiet street. His breath formed little clouds as he waited, a gnawing worry settling in his stomach.

Across the street, Taehyung squinted through his living room window, eyes fixed on Hoseok. "Someone's at Ji-woo's place," he mumbled, not budging an inch.

In the kitchen, Y/N shook her head with a smile. "She's allowed to have visitors, you know," she called out, balancing a tray of hot cocoa and freshly baked cookies.

"He looks... suspicious," Taehyung grumbled, still glued to the glass.

"Or maybe he's just cold," Y/N teased, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "Come on, leave the poor guy alone. We've got Elf queued up and everything."

Taehyung finally tore himself away from the window, his gaze drifting to the marshmallows melting into the cocoa. "Did you make the cookies with peanut butter chips?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Like I'd forget," Y/N replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "No Kim family recipe skips the peanut butter chips."

He took a bite, his features softening as the familiar taste hit. "Dad would've approved," he said quietly.

"Yeah," she agreed, the moment hanging between them like a delicate ornament.

Back outside, Hoseok knocked again, shivering as a gust of wind snuck past his collar. He was about to fish out his phone when the door creaked open. Ji-woo stood there, her hair piled messily atop her head, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. But when she saw him, a flicker of relief crossed her face.

"You're here," she breathed, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Of course I'm here," he murmured into her hair. "You promised me a dubious home-cooked meal, remember?"

She laughed softly, the sound muffled against his coat. "Come in before you freeze."

Inside, the house felt... empty. Not physically—the furniture was all there—but the usual warmth was missing. No garlands draped over the fireplace, no stockings hung with care. Even the Christmas tree in the corner looked half-hearted, as if it knew it wasn't living up to expectations.

Ji-woo sank onto the couch with a weary sigh. "I think I made a mistake moving here."

Hoseok settled into the armchair across from her. "What's going on? Did the Grinch steal your decorations?"

"Worse," she groaned. "The HOA did."

He raised an eyebrow. "They're anti-Christmas now?"

"More like anti-fun. They have all these rules—no colored lights, no inflatable anything, no decorations that could be considered 'tacky' or 'disruptive.' Everything has to be white lights, tastefully arranged. It's like living in a Christmas museum."

"You're kidding," he said, but one look at her face told him she wasn't.

"The kids are miserable," she continued. "Arabella keeps asking why our house doesn't look 'happy' anymore. Maxwell made a protest sign that says 'We Miss Santa' and wants to picket in front of the HOA president's house."

Hoseok couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, he's got your flair for the dramatic."

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "I tried to explain, but how do you tell a seven-year-old that some people think joy is gaudy?"

He leaned forward. "Have you talked to the HOA? Maybe there's a loophole or something."

Ji-woo rolled her eyes. "Oh, I've talked to them. Rachel McDonald and her sidekick Tiffany Wallace run the place like it's their personal kingdom. They're like the Plastics from Mean Girls, but with power suits and a vendetta against colored LEDs."

"Oh, fantastic," Hoseok mumbled. "Mean girls with a homeowners' association to rule. Just what you needed."

Ji-woo laughed without much humor. "It gets better. Rachel's husband, Jeff? He spends his days flirting with the younger moms at the playground, always going on about how he could've gone pro if not for his 'career-ending car accident.' He was the high school football star, and he never lets anyone forget it."

"Let me guess," Hoseok said, already seeing the picture. "He's one of those guys who peaked in high school?"

"Exactly," Ji-woo confirmed. "And he's a total mess. He almost hit one of the Kim siblings—Y/N, the youngest—after a football game. Drives around drunk like he owns the place."

"Wow," Hoseok muttered, a knot forming in his stomach. "And nobody does anything about it?"

"Small towns," Ji-woo sighed, shrugging. "People overlook a lot, especially when it comes to the so-called golden boy. It's infuriating."

Before Hoseok could respond, a high-pitched voice sliced through the air.

"Uncle Hobi!"

A whirlwind of pink pajamas and tangled black hair hurtled across the room, colliding with his legs like a tiny freight train. Hoseok barely had time to steady himself before Maxwell wrapped his arms around him, nearly toppling them both.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Hoseok laughed, ruffling the boy's hair as he crouched down to hug him properly. Maxwell's face beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with pure joy. "How've you been?"

"Good!" Maxwell chirped, bouncing on his toes. "You're staying, right? You can stay forever now!"

Before he could answer, another figure appeared in the doorway—Arabella, her dark eyes casting a skeptical glance toward the window, as if the lackluster holiday lights were a personal affront. She was more reserved than her brother, but when she saw Hoseok, a small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Arabella," Hoseok said gently. "Think I can get a hug from you too?"

She walked over slowly, her steps measured, but when she hugged him, it was warm and sincere. The weight of their little arms around him filled the room with a lightness that hadn't been there moments before.

Just like that, the house felt a little less cold.

They say a watched pot never boils. Turns out, a watched coffee maker isn't in any rush either. Y/N hovered over the machine, silently pleading for it to hurry up—as if her very survival depended on that first cup. And honestly, it did. Without coffee, she was more like a friendly ghost drifting through her own kitchen.

The toaster snapped up with a clatter, launching her bagel into the air. She caught it instinctively, barely registering the motion, and spread a generous layer of garden veggie cream cheese on top. Her eyes kept drifting back to the coffee maker, as if it held all the answers. Finally, it gurgled to a finish, and she poured herself a mug with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred ceremonies.

The first sip was bliss—a warm embrace that chased away the lingering fog in her mind. For a moment, everything was peaceful. No second graders vying for attention, no stacks of ungraded papers looming over her. Just her and the coffee, wrapped in a quiet truce with the morning.

But peace was fleeting.

"That car's still there," Taehyung's voice broke the silence, rough and low like gravel underfoot. He shuffled into the kitchen, more bear than man, still tangled in the remnants of sleep. Before his own caffeine fix, Taehyung was best approached with caution.

Y/N took another sip, unfazed. "They pulled in late last night," she replied evenly, not rising to his grumpy bait.

He grunted, grabbed a mug, tore open a packet of Pop-Tarts, and retreated back to his room, a nocturnal creature avoiding the daylight. Y/N smiled to herself, already looking forward to her morning walk—the one slice of the day that was entirely hers. She laced up her sneakers, threw on a jacket, and stepped outside into the gentle hush of their new neighborhood.

Salida was still strange to her, each house a mirror image of the next, every lawn meticulously maintained. It was pleasant enough but felt more like a pit stop than a destination. Taehyung had found them a good deal here, courtesy of his job, and it served its purpose—a temporary escape while they figured out their next move.

She set off on her usual route, the cold air refreshing against her skin. The fog hung low, turning the streets into a watercolor painting of muted grays and soft edges. She let her mind wander, savoring the solitude.

Then she noticed it—a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. At first, she thought it was a trick of the fog, but there it was again—a figure moving with effortless grace, just enough to catch her eye. Tall and solid, with an athletic stride. One detail snagged her attention more than she'd like to admit: a very, very nice backside.

Y/N felt warmth rise in her cheeks and shook her head, half-amused at herself. Who was that? She didn't recognize him, but then again, she and Taehyung weren't exactly mingling at neighborhood block parties. Taehyung was more invested in keeping tabs on the comings and goings around them—especially since Ji-woo had moved in across the street.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she continued her walk, her heartbeat just a touch quicker than before. The cold nipped at her face, but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere, caught up in that brief, intriguing glimpse.

Would she see him again?

It was a silly thought, and she laughed softly to herself. Still, there was a flutter in her chest—a tiny spark that felt new and welcome. By the time she looped back to the house, her cheeks were flushed, and not just from the cold.

Inside, Taehyung was hunched over his coffee at the kitchen table, looking marginally more awake but no less grumpy.

"What took you so long?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. "And why are you grinning like that?"

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. "Just enjoying the morning."

He gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further, muttering something unintelligible as he turned back to his mug.

Y/N just smiled to herself, knowing full well that her morning walks had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Hoseok pushed open the front door, a gust of cold air following him inside. His lungs burned pleasantly from his morning run, and despite the sweat cooling on his skin, he felt invigorated. December had painted the world outside in shades of white and silver, but inside, the house was warm and smelled like coffee.

"Uncle Hobi, quiet," a small voice scolded.

He looked down to see Arabella standing there, hands on her tiny hips, clad in bright pink pajamas that were a size too big. Her serious expression was almost comical on such a small face.

"Sorry, Ari," he whispered, grinning. He crouched down to her level, arms open for a hug.

She hesitated. "You're sweaty."

He laughed. "Can't argue with that." But before he could retract his offer, she stepped forward and gave him a quick squeeze, then immediately wrinkled her nose.

"Yuck. You need a shower," she declared, pulling back.

"Noted," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

She toddled off toward the living room, probably to her favorite spot by the Christmas tree—the one that looked a bit forlorn without its usual explosion of lights.

Hoseok headed into the kitchen, where Ji-woo leaned against the counter, a mug cradled in her hands. She raised an eyebrow as he entered.

"You're up early," she remarked.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, grabbing a glass of water. "Too many thoughts buzzing around."

"Ah," she said, taking a sip. "The infamous Hoseok brainstorm."

He grinned. "I've got an idea."

She eyed him warily. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably," he admitted. "But hear me out."

She gestured for him to continue but then scrunched up her nose. "Actually, maybe tell me after you've showered."

He feigned offense. "You and Arabella both. Is my post-run glow that unbearable?"

"It's less 'glow' and more 'glisten,'" she teased. "And yes."

He chuckled, backing out of the kitchen. "Fine, I'll cleanse myself of this so-called glisten."

"Thank you," she called after him.

As he climbed the stairs, his mind returned to his plan. The HOA's ban on colorful Christmas lights was the last straw. Arabella's disappointment each time she looked outside was palpable, and it tugged at him more than he'd like to admit.

Maybe if he could convince Ji-woo to take the kids to their parents' house for the holidays, they'd get the festive experience they deserved. And while they were gone, perhaps he could find a way to negotiate with—or outsmart—the HOA.

After a hot shower, he felt more human. The steam had cleared his head, and he dressed quickly, eager to share his thoughts. Back in the kitchen, Ji-woo was scrolling through her phone, a frown creasing her forehead.

"More HOA drama?" he asked, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

She sighed, setting the phone aside. "They're sending reminders about the 'holiday decor guidelines.' It's like they have a vendetta against joy."

He poured himself a cup of coffee. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

She looked up, curious. "Oh?"

He took a sip before speaking. "What if you took the kids to Mom and Dad's for Christmas? Let them have the full festive experience without the Grinch HOA ruining it."

She considered this. "I don't know... They were excited to spend Christmas here."

He nodded. "I get that. But here feels... stifled. They can't decorate the way they want. At least at Mom and Dad's, they can go all out."

She traced the rim of her mug with a finger. "I suppose Arabella would love baking with Mom."

"And Maxwell can help Dad set up the train set," Hoseok added.

A small smile played on her lips. "They would enjoy that."

"Plus," he continued, "I can stay here and see if there's any way to reason with the HOA. Maybe find a loophole or two."

She raised an eyebrow. "You and your loopholes."

He shrugged, grinning. "It's a gift."

She laughed softly. "Alright. I'll talk to the kids."

Relief washed over him. "Great. I think it'll be good for all of you."

As she stood to rinse her mug, she glanced at him. "What about you? Spending Christmas alone?"

He waved off her concern. "I'll be fine. Someone's got to hold down the fort."

She gave him a knowing look. "If you say so."

He leaned against the counter, thoughts drifting to the woman he'd seen on his run that morning. There was something about the way she'd moved, the determination in her stride. He found himself hoping their paths might cross again.

Y/N stepped into the house, shaking off the chill from outside. Taehyung's car was parked at an awkward angle in the driveway—a telltale sign of his mood. Inside, she found Namjoon sitting on the edge of the couch, his posture tense but composed. Taehyung paced the length of the living room, agitation rolling off him in waves.

"Hey," she greeted cautiously.

Namjoon looked over, relief flickering in his eyes. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

She set her bag down. "What's going on?"

Taehyung stopped mid-pace. "There's a stranger at Ji-woo's house."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You mean her brother?"

He crossed his arms. "We don't know that."

Namjoon sighed. "Tae, we've been over this. Not every new person is a threat."

"But we have to be vigilant," Taehyung insisted. "Especially after everything."

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. "I get it," she said gently. "But maybe we should give people the benefit of the doubt."

He shook his head. "You didn't see the way he was sneaking around."

Namjoon stood up. "How about this—I’ll go over and introduce myself. Invite them to the community Christmas party. If there's anything off, I'll pick up on it."

Taehyung considered this. "Fine. But be careful."

"I always am," Namjoon assured him. He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. "Y/N, keep an eye on him."

She nodded. "Will do."

After Namjoon left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Taehyung resumed his pacing, though slower this time.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "Just don't want anything to happen. Not again."

She understood. The past had left its marks on all of them. "I know."

He glanced at her. "You think I'm overreacting."

"I think you're protective," she said. "But sometimes that can come across as... intense."

He managed a small smile. "Understatement of the year."

She returned the smile. "Just try to relax a bit. Maybe focus on something else."

He sat down beside her. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then decided to take a chance. "I've been thinking about volunteering at the youth center's holiday event. Could use an extra pair of hands."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "Is it working?"

He chuckled. "A little."

They sat in comfortable quiet for a moment. Y/N's thoughts drifted to the man she'd seen that morning—the one with the easy smile and kind eyes. She wondered what his story was.

"Earth to Y/N," Taehyung said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked. "Sorry. Zoned out."

"Thinking about your students?"

"Something like that," she replied, not ready to share her musings.

He studied her for a moment. "You seem... different lately."

"Different how?"

He shrugged. "Happier."

She considered this. "Maybe."

"That's good," he said sincerely.

"Thanks." She bumped his shoulder lightly. "See? Not everything is doom and gloom."

He smiled. "I'll try to remember that."

The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. Y/N felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite inside her chest. Maybe—just maybe—this Christmas would bring something new, something good.

She glanced over at Taehyung, who was slouched on the couch, half-watching a mindless reality show. He was still brooding, eyebrows knit together in that way that made him look both serious and a little ridiculous.

"So," she said, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head, "do you think Namjoon's going to make it back alive, or should we start assembling a search party?"

Taehyung grunted, eyes never leaving the screen. "Laugh all you want, but when Namjoon returns with the truth, you'll see. Mark my words, Y/N. I'm onto something big."

She hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh, I have no doubt you're onto something."

Life with her brothers was never dull—a constant whirlwind of conspiracies and overreactions. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Ji-woo stared at Hoseok like he'd suggested they celebrate Christmas on the moon.

"Absolutely not," she declared, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm not letting those Stepford wives think they've won."

Hoseok could practically see the steam rising from her. That familiar storm brewing in her eyes—a mix of stubbornness and simmering rage. The HOA drama had pushed her right to the edge, and suggesting they spend the holidays at their parents' place was apparently the final straw.

"Ji, it's just a suggestion," he said gently. "The kids might enjoy—"

"The kids don't want to leave their home for Christmas," she interrupted, her voice firm. "And I am not giving Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald the satisfaction."

He sighed, bracing himself as she launched into a tirade. She recounted every passive-aggressive comment, every forced smile, every time they'd conveniently "forgotten" to inform her about some new HOA rule.

"And can you believe Tiffany had the nerve to ask if I was a lesbian?" Ji-woo fumed, her cheeks flushing. "As if it's any of her business! Probably just so she'd have something juicy to share at her next book club meeting."

Hoseok nodded along, his mind starting to wander. It wasn't that he didn't care—he did—but he'd heard variations of this rant many times before.

"And Rachel," Ji-woo continued, her eyes narrowing. "She looks down her nose at everyone, like she's the queen of this suburban prison."

He was just about to suggest they take a deep breath when a knock sounded at the door. Saved by the bell.

Ji-woo paused, exchanging a curious glance with Hoseok before heading to the door. He followed her, curious.

When she opened it, Namjoon Kim stood on the porch, his usual calm smile in place. He looked every bit the part of the friendly neighborhood fire chief, his uniform crisp and his posture relaxed.

"Captain Kim," Ji-woo greeted, her tone shifting to something warmer. "What brings you by?"

"Evening, Ms. Lee," he replied politely. Hoseok noticed the slight wince his sister gave at the use of her married name, but she recovered quickly.

"I was just over at the Kims'—the other Kims," Namjoon added with a chuckle. "Wanted to make sure you knew about the town Christmas party tonight. It's a big deal around here. Santa, caroling, more cookies than anyone should probably eat."

He handed her a colorful flyer, and Ji-woo's face softened as she took it. "That sounds wonderful. The kids would love it."

Hoseok stepped forward, offering a friendly smile. "Mind if I tag along?"

Namjoon turned to him, eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute—you’re Hoseok Jung."

Hoseok gave a modest shrug. "Guilty as charged."

Namjoon broke into a grin. "My siblings are huge fans. Heck, I’m a huge fan."

Before Hoseok could respond, a small whirlwind barreled into his legs.

"Uncle Hobi!" Arabella squealed, her Elsa pajamas a blur of blue and sparkles as she hugged him tightly.

He scooped her up, her giggles filling the entryway. "Hey there, princess. Shouldn't you be napping?"

She shook her head vigorously. "Can't sleep. No lights."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "No lights?"

Ji-woo sighed. "HOA restrictions. We're not allowed to put up colored lights or inflatables."

"Seriously?" Namjoon's friendly demeanor shifted, a frown creasing his forehead. "That's... unusual."

"That's Tiffany and Rachel," Ji-woo muttered. "They've made it their mission to suck the joy out of the neighborhood."

Hoseok nodded. "Ari loves the colored lights. White ones just aren't the same."

Namjoon looked thoughtful. "Well, that doesn't seem fair. Maybe there's something we can do about that."

Hoseok watched him with interest. There was a quiet determination in Namjoon's eyes, the kind that suggested he wasn't one to let things slide.

"Anyway," Namjoon said, his smile returning as he looked back at Ji-woo. "Hope to see you all at the party tonight. And Hoseok, if you don't mind signing an autograph or two..."

Hoseok laughed. "Not at all. Happy to."

As Namjoon headed back across the street, Hoseok turned to his sister, still holding Arabella in his arms.

"Looks like this town has a few surprises," he remarked.

Ji-woo chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, Namjoon? He's just the beginning. Stick around—you'll see."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She patted his shoulder as she headed back toward the kitchen. "Trust me. You might even start liking it here."

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this detour wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Namjoon slammed the front door open, the sound echoing through the quiet house like a sudden clap of thunder. Y/N looked up from her book, startled. It wasn't like Namjoon to make a scene—he was the steady one, the calm one. But today, his face was clouded, eyes sharp and determined.

"Taehyung!" he called, his voice carrying up the stairs with an urgency that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

There was a muffled crash from upstairs, followed by a groan. Moments later, Taehyung appeared at the top of the staircase, hair tousled and eyes bleary. He rubbed at his face, clearly pulled from a deep sleep.

"What's going on, Joon?" he mumbled, starting down the steps. He didn't seem to notice the tension radiating from his older brother.

Namjoon didn't waste a second. "Do you have any idea what kind of company you work for?" he demanded, pointing out the front window toward Mrs. Lee's house across the street. His voice was tight, controlled—but Y/N could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Taehyung blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Mrs. Lee just told me that Tiffany and Rachel are preventing her from putting up the Christmas decorations her kids love," Namjoon said, each word clipped. "Apparently, the HOA has banned colorful lights and inflatable decorations. Little Ari is heartbroken."

Taehyung frowned, glancing between Namjoon and Y/N. "I don't handle HOA rules," he said slowly. "I'm an architect, not a policy maker."

"But you work for the development company that runs this neighborhood," Namjoon pressed. "Surely you know someone who can do something about this."

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I mean, I can call Jungkook. He's more involved with that side of things."

"Good," Namjoon said firmly. "Because it's ridiculous that kids can't have Christmas lights because of some overzealous HOA board."

Y/N stood up, hoping to ease the tension. "Maybe it's just a misunderstanding," she offered gently. "HOAs can be tricky with their rules."

Namjoon shook his head. "Whether it's a misunderstanding or not, it needs to be fixed."

Taehyung pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "I'll give Jungkook a call," he said, already heading toward the kitchen.

As he disappeared from view, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. Y/N stepped closer.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded, but his eyes were still stormy. "I just can't stand the thought of those kids missing out on Christmas because of some pointless rule."

She offered a small smile. "You're a good man, Namjoon."

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Don't spread that around."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"By the way," Namjoon said, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. "I don't think Taehyung realizes who Mrs. Lee's guest is."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The guy you saw over there this morning? That's Hoseok Jung."

Her mouth fell open. "Wait—the Hoseok Jung? As in the two-time Super Bowl champion?"

He nodded. "The very same."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, memories of her morning walk flooding back—the tall figure jogging past her, the way he'd moved with effortless grace. She'd noticed him, sure, but she hadn't realized...

"Language, Y/N," Namjoon teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. "I can't believe it. How did I not recognize him?"

"Probably because you were too busy daydreaming," he joked.

"Hardly," she shot back, nudging him playfully. "Besides, he was wearing a hat and sunglasses."

"Excuses, excuses."

Just then, Taehyung re-entered the room, looking exasperated. "Jungkook's in the shower, but his wife said he'll call me back soon."

"Great," Namjoon replied. "We need to get this sorted out."

Taehyung flopped onto the couch, rubbing his temples. "This HOA stuff is such a headache."

Y/N sat beside him. "We haven't really been paying attention to their rules, have we?"

He shrugged. "We put up a tree inside. That's about the extent of our holiday spirit."

Namjoon crossed his arms. "Well, maybe it's time we all got a bit more involved. Can't let a few grinches ruin Christmas for everyone."

Taehyung glanced at Y/N. "What's got him so fired up?"

She smiled softly. "Mrs. Lee's kids can't put up their decorations. Namjoon's on a mission to fix it."

"And Hoseok Jung is staying with her," Namjoon added, watching Taehyung's reaction.

Taehyung looked blank. "Who?"

Y/N laughed. "Only one of the most famous quarterbacks in football."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't follow sports."

Namjoon shook his head in mock disbelief. "Honestly, Tae. Sometimes I wonder how we're related."

Taehyung smirked. "Well, I got the looks."

Y/N groaned. "And the humility."

Their banter eased the remaining tension, a familiar rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy back into the room.

"I'll talk to Jungkook as soon as he calls," Taehyung promised. "We'll figure something out."

"Thanks," Namjoon said sincerely.

Y/N rested a hand on Namjoon's arm. "You're doing a good thing."

He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Just trying to make sure everyone has a good Christmas."

She nodded. "And we appreciate it."

The doorbell rang, surprising them all.

"Expecting someone?" Taehyung asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No."

Namjoon went to answer it, and moments later, he called back, "Hey, Y/N, it's Mrs. Lee!"

Y/N exchanged a curious glance with Taehyung before heading to the door.

Ji-woo stood on the porch, a tentative smile on her face. "Hi, sorry to drop by unannounced."

"Not at all," Y/N replied warmly. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "I just wanted to thank you all. Namjoon mentioned you were looking into the HOA situation."

"Of course," Y/N said. "We're happy to help."

Ji-woo hesitated. "Also, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow night. Just a small get-together. My brother's in town, and it'd be nice to get to know the neighbors."

Y/N felt that flutter in her chest again. "We'd love to."

"Great," Ji-woo said, her smile growing. "I'll see you then."

As she walked back across the street, Y/N closed the door, leaning against it for a moment.

"Well?" Taehyung prompted.

"We're invited to dinner tomorrow," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Awesome," he said, already heading back to the couch. "Free food."

Namjoon gave her a knowing look. "Sounds like an opportunity."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe."

"Just don't forget to breathe if you meet your football hero," he teased.

"I'll manage," she retorted.

And as she glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of lights starting to twinkle across the street, she allowed herself to hope.

Hoseok glanced in the rearview mirror of his SUV, catching sight of Maxwell practically vibrating in his car seat. The little guy was a live wire, eyes wide and sparkling like he'd just discovered superheroes were real—and they all wanted to be his best friend.

"Guessing those cookies were rocket fuel," Hoseok chuckled. "Pretty sure bedtime's canceled tonight."

"You're really coming with us to see Santa?" Maxwell asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and a dash of hero worship. It was as if Hoseok had just announced they were flying to the North Pole.

"Wouldn't miss it," Hoseok replied, winking. "Gotta make sure Santa knows what's on my list, too."

"Yes!" Maxwell cheered, pumping his tiny fist in the air. Next to him, Arabella hugged her stuffed penguin a little tighter, her eyes dreamy. "Santa..." she whispered, like the name itself was magic.

Beside him, Ji-woo seemed lighter than she'd been in weeks, a soft smile playing on her lips as she adjusted Arabella's hat. The tension from the HOA drama had eased, at least for tonight.

They drove through streets awash in Christmas lights, the colors reflecting off the windows like a kaleidoscope. When they reached the town square, it was as if they'd stepped into a snow globe. Strings of lights crisscrossed above, a giant tree stood proudly in the center, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and hope.

"Look at all the lights!" Maxwell exclaimed, pressing his nose against the glass. He was out of his seat the moment the car stopped, dragging Arabella toward the promise of candy canes and reindeer.

Hoseok spotted Namjoon across the way, deep in conversation with a guy who looked like he could bench-press a car. The man's gaze lingered a little too long on Ji-woo, and Hoseok felt a protective twinge.

"Glad you all made it," Namjoon called out, his smile warm enough to melt the snow. "Santa's about to arrive. You don't want to miss it."

Maxwell and Arabella needed no further encouragement—they darted off, laughter trailing behind them like footprints.

Namjoon turned to Ji-woo, his expression shifting to something more serious. "We're still waiting to hear from Jungkook about the HOA situation. Don't worry, we're on it."

The big guy next to him nodded. "We'll make sure your kids get their Christmas back," he said earnestly.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, catching the familiar glint of recognition—and maybe a hint of rivalry—in the man's eyes. He offered a polite smile, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Before any awkwardness could settle in, the jingle of bells filled the air. Santa had arrived, not in a sleigh but in a decked-out pickup truck that somehow felt perfectly fitting. The crowd buzzed with excitement, kids bouncing on their toes.

Leading the procession was an elf with a bounce in her step and... Hoseok did a double take. Was her skirt tucked into her tights? He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he recognized that particular shade of embarrassment.

That was jogger girl.

She was mortified, her face the color of holly berries as Namjoon discreetly fixed her skirt. She shot him a grateful, exasperated look. "Thanks, Joon," she mumbled.

"You're killing me, kid," he replied, shaking his head but smiling fondly.

Their eyes met for just a second—just long enough for Hoseok to catch that flicker of recognition, and maybe a bit of horror, in Y/N’s expression. He offered a small, sympathetic smile, the kind that says, It’s fine. We all have moments like this.

Pushing past whatever had unsettled her, Y/N fixed her elf hat and raised her voice, unwavering and bright, “Who’s ready to see Santa?”

A chorus of kids shouted back, “We are!” and just like that, everything felt easier. Arabella, looking serious and determined, walked straight up to Santa and climbed onto his lap without waiting for a nod or a smile. Santa seemed surprised but took it in stride.

“Well, hello there,” he said, steadying her. “What’s your name?”

“Arabella.” She paused, as if making sure he was paying attention. “I want our lights back.”

He blinked. “Your lights?”

“Our Christmas lights,” she explained. “The colorful ones that make our house happy.”

Hoseok felt a tightening in his chest. Arabella always got right to the point. No dancing around what mattered most.

Y/N stepped forward, her voice gentle, “Maybe Santa can help,” she suggested, meeting Hoseok’s eyes for a moment before turning back to Santa.

“Maybe I can,” Santa agreed, handing Arabella a small gift. She took it solemnly, thanked him, and slid off his lap. “Don’t forget,” she reminded him quietly as she walked back.

Ji-woo knelt down to Arabella’s level. “Do you want to open it now?” she asked.

Arabella shook her head firmly. “Max,” she said, making it clear she’d wait for her brother.

“Max, get over here!” Hoseok called, spotting Maxwell still chatting away with Santa, rattling off a mile-long wish list. Max finally darted over, breathless and grinning, and tore into his own present: a Lego police helicopter set. His eyes went huge, and he practically vibrated with excitement, already planning how he’d build it the second they got home.

Arabella, satisfied that her brother was taken care of, carefully unwrapped her gift. Inside was a plush Rudolph with a glowing red nose. Her serious expression softened. She held it up for them to see, then patted the ground beside her. “Read,” she insisted.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He sat right down on the cold pavement and took the little storybook that came with Rudolph. His voice was low and comforting as he read aloud. Everyone around them seemed to settle, leaning in, as if drawn by the warm circle of sound he created. Y/N found herself smiling. There he was, Hoseok—star athlete, local hero—sitting cross-legged in the town square, reading Christmas stories to a little girl who trusted him completely.

Arabella climbed into his lap without a second thought. He adjusted the book, making sure she stayed cozy. This wasn’t some perfect holiday postcard scene; it was just… real. Hoseok had a soft spot for his family. Watching him like this made Y/N’s heart ache in a sweet, unexpected way.

Namjoon, standing beside her, watched too. Pride and tenderness shone through his normally reserved gaze. He might look like the kind of guy who’d keep you at arm’s length, but around family, he melted. Y/N nudged him with her elbow, smiling. “If you keep staring, you’ll turn into a puddle.”

Namjoon chuckled quietly. “Can you blame me? That’s some top-tier uncle behavior.”

Y/N laughed. “You should be taking notes.”

“I am,” he said, straight-faced, which made her laugh again.

Meanwhile, Santa—Seth, actually—wandered off, muttering something about needing an ice pack, looking as if he’d just run a marathon instead of meeting kids all day. Y/N shook her head, amused, and headed back toward Namjoon and Ji-woo.

Namjoon kept half an eye out for Taehyung, who’d disappeared earlier. Taehyung had been trying to reach Jungkook about the HOA mess and the banned Christmas lights. Just then, Taehyung returned, looking both frustrated and determined.

“B’s livid,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s got a lawyer looking into the HOA’s charter.”

Ji-woo sighed, glancing over at Arabella curled up with Hoseok. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Taehyung leaned in, lowering his voice. “Apparently the ban on colored lights was voted in by the homeowners after the fact. But if it was voted in, it can be voted out too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Five bucks says Tiff and Rachel orchestrated the whole thing. They never let anyone just live their lives without making it about their rules.”

Namjoon’s mouth twitched, annoyed. “If those two are involved, there’s no shortage of shady behavior.”

Around them, the square glowed with holiday lights, kids played with new toys, and Hoseok’s voice continued steady and clear, reading to Arabella. It all felt unexpectedly warm and meaningful. If they had to go head-to-head with a cranky HOA to keep this feeling, so be it.

Hoseok’s voice carried over to them, calm and thoughtful. “If it was voted in, it can be voted out, right?” he asked, looking at Taehyung. Arabella’s head rested trustingly against him, her Rudolph still glowing.

Taehyung sighed. “Yeah, but it requires seventy-five percent approval. And we don’t have voting rights. We never got around to joining the HOA officially, and even if we did now, we wouldn’t be able to vote until next year.”

Y/N frowned. “Why didn’t I know about these votes? I never saw a single notice.”

Taehyung shrugged. “We bought early on. The HOA was still forming. And we don’t use their services—we handle our own lawn care—so we don’t get their updates. The other houses get lawn care and newsletters. We’re sort of on the outside.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Not everyone has the time to peek through blinds and track the neighbors’ every move, Tae.”

Namjoon cut in gently, “Play nice,” his voice carrying that quiet authority that ended squabbles before they started.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Anyway, we don’t have standing to vote right now.”

Hoseok leaned back, thinking it through, his brow furrowing. “If we’re not part of it, are we even bound by their rules?” he asked.

Taehyung hesitated. “Technically, no. But I’m in a tricky position. Jungkook’s my friend and my boss. I’m supposed to follow the spirit of the rules, set a good example.”

Y/N noticed the determined light in Hoseok’s eyes. He’d just had an idea—that look said as much. And once Hoseok had a plan, he didn’t give up easily.

He straightened up carefully, making sure not to jostle Arabella as she slept against him, and then locked eyes with Taehyung. “I get it—you want to set a good example. But just hear me out. I think I’ve got an idea.”

Taehyung stiffened, like he already knew where this was going. “Hoseok, if this is about—”

“Let him talk,” Y/N said, her voice gentle but steady. “There’s no harm in listening.”

Taehyung exchanged a quick, resigned glance with Y/N—then with Ji-woo—and finally let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll listen. No promises, though.”

Ji-woo gave Taehyung’s arm a light squeeze, an encouraging smile softening the tension. “Thanks. Sometimes his ideas are… a lot. But you never know, this one might actually be good.”

A small group of neighbors had drifted closer, curious eyes and quiet whispers surrounding them. Hoseok stood there, holding his niece like it was the most natural thing in the world, radiating a calm confidence that felt comforting, even to Y/N. He seemed so at home right here, right now, as if he’d been part of their crowd from the very start.

Hoseok glanced over at Maxwell, who was practically sleepwalking on his feet. “Maybe we should get these two home?” he suggested to Ji-woo, tilting his head toward the sleepy kids.

Ji-woo nodded right away, ushering them forward. “Yes. Let’s move this party back home.”

As they headed down the street, Hoseok shot Y/N a quick wink. It was casual, but it lit a tiny spark in the cold air. Taehyung noticed, of course, and let out a barely contained huff.

“That wink,” he grumbled, as if it might be the first domino in a chain of questionable decisions. Y/N could see that something about Hoseok got under Taehyung’s skin in a way he wouldn’t admit. She bumped his shoulder lightly.

“Relax, Tae,” she teased. “It’s just a wink.”

But Taehyung’s brow stayed knitted. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

Back in Ji-woo’s living room, the mood was tense despite the cozy lamps and the warm hum of the fireplace. Namjoon stood firmly in Hoseok’s corner, championing every idea Hoseok tossed out—like challenging the HOA or rallying the neighbors for a vote. Taehyung tried to get a word in, but every time he did, Namjoon countered with all the reasons they had to fight. He even suggested calling Jimin, their cousin who was the town sheriff, if things turned messy. It was a whole parade of big personalities with strong opinions, and Taehyung looked ready to pop.

Sitting curled up in her favorite armchair, Y/N decided it was time to mediate. “Joon, we hear you,” she said, leveling her gaze at him before looking at Taehyung. “But let’s give Taehyung some space to explain his side. And what if we ask Jungkook and Blair to weigh in too? If they back this plan, maybe Taehyung will feel better.”

Taehyung’s relief was almost tangible. “Yes—please. Call Jungkook and Blair. If we get them on board, I can at least know we’re not going rogue.”

He shot Hoseok an apologetic look. “I know you’ve got to get back to Denver soon,” he said, trying to sound casual but clearly feeling guilty. “I don’t want to mess with your playoff prep. I get that the kids should have a great Christmas. I just need you to understand my side.”

Y/N snorted, unable to resist teasing him a bit. “Tae, you’re sounding so diplomatic I’m waiting for Mr. Berty from fourth grade to show up and give you a gold star.” When Taehyung subtly flipped her the bird, she stifled a giggle.

Sighing dramatically, Taehyung relented. “Okay, fine. I’ll call Jungkook. Blair’s usually the easier sell, anyway.”

Namjoon nodded briskly, making a hurry-up motion. “Don’t just stand there. Make the call.”

Taehyung eyed the clock. “It’s after nine, bro. Isn’t this late?”

Namjoon smirked. “Jungkook doesn’t sleep before midnight, and Blair’s like a wind-up toy that never stops. They’ll pick up.”

With a low groan, Taehyung disappeared into the kitchen, phone already ringing. His muttering faded into the next room.

With him gone, Y/N decided it was time to shift gears. “The kids had such a blast tonight,” she said softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Arabella’s practically welded to that Rudolph, and Max… I mean, good luck getting him to think about anything besides that helicopter set now.”

Ji-woo’s expression warmed. “I’m just glad they had fun. Poor Santa Seth, though. He looked wiped out.”

Namjoon laughed. “Don’t worry about Seth. Beth’s probably got him on a steady regimen of ice packs and hot chocolate. That man’s taken bigger hits. Kids can be ruthless.”

Hoseok chimed in, his tone curious. “I saw there was a food drive. Is there a big need around here?”

Namjoon’s easygoing demeanor faded slightly as he explained. “It’s better now than a few years ago, but this place took a hit. The mill closed down some lines, people lost jobs. Recovery’s slow. Especially this time of year.”

Y/N nodded, voice quieter. “Lots of families are on the edge. You’d be surprised how many work full-time but still can’t get by. I’ve volunteered at the food bank. People slip through the cracks.”

Hoseok’s brow creased thoughtfully. “That’s awful. Every place I’ve played, I try to give back. My old coach used to say, ‘They show up for us, we show up for them.’ It stuck with me.”

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “Your coach sounds like a good person.”

Hoseok grinned. “One of the best. He’d ream me out after a bad game, but he never missed a chance to remind me what really mattered.”

Ji-woo laughed. “When he got drafted, I’m not sure who cried more—Coach or Dad.”

Just then, Taehyung reappeared. He looked relieved—less tense around the eyes. “Blair says they’ll be here tomorrow after five. Her dad’s visiting—first holiday without her mom—so they’re hosting him, but they’ll swing by.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Walter Reid’s a big name. When he weighs in, people listen.”

Y/N leaned over, giving Taehyung a quick side hug, feeling the unspoken weight he’d been carrying. “You’ve done everything you can.”

Namjoon nodded approvingly. “You did good, Tae.”

Ji-woo and Hoseok nodded too, their quiet solidarity reassuring him. And Taehyung, for the first time that night, allowed himself a long, steady breath and a small, hopeful smile. Maybe this Christmas would turn out all right after all.

The next evening, Jungkook and Blair Jeon showed up, each of them so strikingly different that Y/N’s head spun a little just looking at them. Jungkook was tall, solid as a cedar, with neatly combed black hair and eyes so warm and steady they felt like a campfire you could settle around for hours. He was the kind of person who didn’t waste words—he only spoke when it counted, and when he did, everyone leaned in.

Blair, meanwhile, was all sparks and fizz—blonde curls that bounced with every step, bright blue eyes that darted around the room, making sure she never missed a thing. She didn’t have to say a word to shift the energy; her presence alone brightened corners that had been dull five seconds ago. Even with their differences, it was clear they both cared fiercely, like they shared a quiet agreement: kindness first, always.

And then there was Walter Reid, Blair’s father, who seemed to take up more space than he actually occupied. He was tall and broad, his silver hair perfect, his face etched with lines that said he’d lived through more than anyone else in the room. He didn’t bother with unnecessary smiles. He didn’t need them—his eyes said he could see right through every half-truth and polite lie.

As Y/N explained the plan to bring back the Christmas lights that the HOA had so rudely snuffed out, Walter watched silently, his gaze like a judge’s final verdict waiting to be delivered. Ji-woo flipped through old photos, spreading them like evidence on a coffee table: once upon a time, this neighborhood had shimmered in December. Now, thanks to a few power-hungry board members, it looked like Christmas had decided to skip town.

Blair was practically hopping with frustration. “I’m telling you, Tiffany and Rachel are behind this,” she said, jabbing a photo as if it might give in and confess. Y/N nodded, unsurprised. Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald were the type who wanted things their way and never bothered to pretend otherwise.

Hoseok stood beside Y/N, noticing—despite his best efforts—how good she looked in that cozy sweater and jeans. He tried to refocus, to catch up on whatever Walter and Blair were discussing. But it was hard when Y/N looked so at ease here, like this room and these people and these problems were all part of some soft tapestry he’d just been invited into.

“Babygirl, let me see those charter amendments,” Walter said to Blair, voice low and gravelly. Blair handed over the papers, still scowling. Walter’s eyes skimmed the text. “Recent changes,” he murmured. “Voted in by a slim majority. That means it wouldn’t take much to push them back out.”

Jungkook leaned in, nodding. “We just need the neighbors on board. Half of them probably don’t even know the rules changed. If we show them what’s going on, we could turn this thing around.”

Blair’s mood shifted from fury to determination in a flash. “Then that’s what we do,” she said, clapping her hands. “We bring them all in. We light the match.”

Y/N smiled, relieved. “We’ll organize a meeting. Show them they have a choice. People want Christmas back—they just need to believe they can have it.”

Hoseok grinned too, leaning forward, his voice warm. “I can help. I mean, I’ve got a few fans who might show up if it means Christmas lights and a selfie or two.”

Y/N glanced his way, heart feeling unexpectedly full. He wanted to be part of this, part of her world. It was a small thing—just lights, really—but something about the way he jumped right in touched her.

Walter eyed them all, unmoved, as if still deciding if this fight was worth the trouble. “What’s this got to do with me?” he asked flatly.

“Daddy, it’s not right,” Blair repeated, for maybe the hundredth time that night, each time with the exact same fierce conviction.

Jungkook rested a calming hand on her shoulder. “Let your dad take a look, Blair. We need his advice.”

Blair huffed, but she let Walter read. He turned pages with the careful patience of a man who’d picked apart trickier contracts in his time. When he finally spoke, his words were measured: “If you go public, you might draw attention you don’t want. The media could twist this. Make the HOA look like victims. Could complicate other projects in the pipeline.”

Blair looked ready to explode. “Who would side with the HOA?” she demanded, incredulous.

Walter’s gaze shifted to Hoseok, and this time his tone was almost fatherly. “You’re not just any guy off the street, kid. You’re a Seahawk. Your team’s PR isn’t going to love seeing you in a local tug-of-war.”

Hoseok grimaced, realizing Walter had a point. “I’ll check with them,” he said, sounding reluctant.

A tense hush settled over the room until Namjoon stepped out quietly. When he returned, he had Arabella in his arms, half-asleep and clinging to Rudolph. Y/N shot him a questioning look, but Namjoon just smiled and walked over to Walter.

“This is Ari,” he said softly. “Ari, meet Mr. Reid.”

Arabella blinked, clutching her Rudolph and peering at Walter with big, curious eyes. She gave him a tiny wave, all quiet courage and bedtime drowsiness.

Namjoon set her down next to the photos. Arabella, so serious for someone so small, pointed at the pictures. “Lights,” she said firmly, “Santa. Fix. Please.”

You could almost see Walter’s armor crack. He let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh hell. Fine. Just keep it low-key, all right?”

Namjoon’s grin could have lit up a stadium. “Thank you,” he said, clapping Walter on the shoulder. Walter rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement there. “I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Namjoon teased lightly. “Marine training teaches you how to get results.”

Arabella squealed, hugging Namjoon’s leg. Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Maybe things were still complicated, and maybe they’d have to tread carefully. But at least they had a green light. At least they weren’t alone.

Hoseok’s eyes found Y/N again. He liked the way her smile looked in the soft lamplight. Liked that he was seeing her not just as some passing figure in his off-season life, but as someone he wanted to know more deeply. There was a story beginning here—one that he hoped they’d have time to tell.

Later that night, Y/N stood on her front lawn, arms folded over her coat, taking it all in. The new decorations weren’t over-the-top, but they were just enough. An eight-foot inflatable Santa beamed merrily at the snow, and multicolored lights wound around the porch and windows like cheerful ribbons. The whole place glowed. Across the street, Arabella pressed her hands and nose against the window, eyes gone huge with delight. Y/N smiled, feeling a tiny spark inside her chest—this was Christmas at its best, all bright colors and gentle wonder, nothing more complicated than a kid’s joy.

Walter had already taken off back to Denver, warning Y/N to brace for any fallout. But Y/N wasn’t worried. She knew how small towns worked: people loved their drama soft and manageable, like a soap opera they could switch off after dinner. Tiffany and Rachel would probably have plenty to say, but real consequences? She doubted it. If anything, it would all just turn into good old-fashioned grocery aisle gossip.

Inside, she could hear laughter drifting in from the living room. By the time she slipped back in, Blair had commandeered the couch—three glasses of wine deep—and was grinning at the ceiling like it had just told her the best joke in the world. Y/N had barely shut the door when Blair’s voice floated through the room, slurred and enthusiastic:

“He’s hot. You should totally tap that.”

Y/N stumbled, wide-eyed, nearly dropping her keys. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Blair rolled her head toward Y/N, eyes sparkling with a wine-soaked confidence. “Hoseok Jung!” she repeated, waving a hand dramatically. “Girl, hop on that train. Enjoy the ride.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flare with heat. Blair’s bluntness wasn’t new, but this was... a lot. “Blair,” she sputtered, trying for stern and failing. “He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s got a life in Denver, and I have classes. It’s not exactly a meet-cute that’s going to last, okay?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Blair said, swiping the air dismissively. “You can teach and have a life. And if he’s half as good in bed as he is on the field, you’re basically signing up for fireworks.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She glanced around as if the furniture might be judging her. “Blair!” she hissed, but a laugh slipped out despite her best efforts.

Blair smirked, taking another sip of her “truth juice.” “Oh, come on. After that jerk Garrett took off with Kate, don’t you think you deserve a little... holiday cheer? I’m not suggesting you run away and elope, just... sample the goods. I saw the way Hoseok looked at you.”

Y/N snatched at Blair’s wineglass, but Blair evaded with surprising agility for someone so tipsy. “I think you’ve had enough,” Y/N said, breathlessly, cheeks still warm.

Blair raised a brow, wiggling it like some kind of cartoon villain. “Don’t try to silence me. You know I’m right. You’ve been Miss Responsible for way too long. Let your hair down. Have fun. Specifically, have fun with a hot football player who’s clearly into you.”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching again for the glass. This time Blair conceded with a playful sigh, handing it over. “Fine, fine,” Blair said, leaning back like a starlet. “But remember my words when you’re old and gray: truth flows from the grapes.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, still smiling as she set the wine on the counter. But just as quickly as she dismissed Blair’s teasing, Hoseok’s face floated into her mind. She could picture him so clearly—his easy grin, the way he’d settled on the floor to read to Arabella, how natural he’d looked in this little world that wasn’t his. And, okay, yes... that spark in his eyes when he’d looked her way.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to talk herself down. He was leaving tomorrow. Their lives were galaxies apart. He was... famous, for crying out loud. And she was a teacher with a comfortable, ordinary life. It’s just a silly crush, she told herself. A harmless holiday daydream.

From the couch, Blair’s voice drifted lazily: “I saw that look! You’re into him.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, flicking off the kitchen light and grabbing a blanket. She returned to the living room and draped it over Blair’s shoulders. “Go to sleep, B,” she said softly.

Blair’s eyes fluttered half-closed, a grin still tugging at her lips. Y/N watched her friend settle into a dozy contentment. The room fell quiet, the only sounds a distant car on a snowy street and the soft hum of the heater. For a moment, it felt like the whole house was holding its breath.

Y/N sank onto the edge of the recliner, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. She tried to imagine what tomorrow would feel like. Hoseok would head back to Denver, back to his team, his life. She’d keep teaching, keep living in this small town full of neighborly squabbles and cozy holiday traditions. Was there a chance something could cross the space between them?

Probably not. But it sure was nice to think about—even if only for tonight. It made her feel warm, a little bit braver, and just maybe, a tiny bit closer to the kind of magic that made ordinary people do extraordinary things.

Hoseok couldn’t get Y/N out of his head. It was like his mind had just grabbed onto the memory of her laugh and refused to let go. The way her grin tilted when she teased her brother, that quick, light-in-her-eyes smile—it all played on a loop behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. Plus, the way she moved, so confident and at ease, made him feel like some eager understudy watching a lead he was dying to impress.

And now, there she was, standing in her front yard, facing down two furious blondes as if they were yapping dachshunds trying to nip at her ankles. He could practically see the invisible line she’d drawn—You shall not pass!—and it made him grin. She looked fierce and steady, even as Blair, three glasses of wine in, half-waltzed, half-wobbled behind her, sloshing red liquid in dangerous arcs.

Inside, Ji-woo hovered near the window, hand poised over the curtain like she wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure if she should. Hoseok got it. Ji-woo had seen enough drama in her life, and from what he understood, some scars still felt fresh. She wasn’t big on conflict, not anymore.

“I’ll go,” Hoseok said, shrugging into his jacket. He could feel Ji-woo’s relief before she even answered. He’d offered partly to help Y/N, partly because he was, let’s face it, pretty smitten, and partly because he just hated seeing Y/N out there alone, dealing with what looked suspiciously like Mean Girls: Christmas Edition.

“Are you sure?” Ji-woo asked, voice low. She bit her lip, glancing out at the scene.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said simply. “I kind of got them into this. The least I can do is back them up.”

He stepped into the chilly night and caught the tail end of the blondes’ complaints. One waved a piece of paper at Y/N, like it was a holy writ and not just a crumpled memo. Blair was still in the background, humming something off-key and offering her wine bottle to an inflatable Santa.

Y/N sighed, exasperated. “Blair, maybe it’s time to go inside.”

Before Blair could respond, she spotted Hoseok like he was the second coming of Christmas. “There he is!” she crowed, pointing. “Hoseok Jung, Y/N! You gotta tap that ass, girl!”

Hoseok nearly choked on a laugh, managing to keep a straight face with heroic effort. He plastered on his best “professional athlete” smile—confident, friendly, utterly unbothered by chaos—and stepped beside Y/N. “Evening, ladies,” he said, voice low and calm. “Is there a problem here?”

The shorter blonde’s eyes went cartoon-wide. “Oh my god, you’re Hoseok Jung!” she squealed, as if she’d just met a unicorn holding a stack of Super Bowl tickets. The other blonde—taller, more scowly—floundered for a moment, caught between annoyance and fangirl bewilderment.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets like it was no big deal. He nodded toward the decorations, the twinkling lights that had caused all this fuss. “My sister lives across the street. Y/N and her friends put these up for her kids. It’s Christmas—just trying to bring a little cheer.”

The taller blonde, Rae, tried to hold onto her scowl but ended up somewhere between a grimace and a pained smile. “They still break HOA rules,” she grumbled, but her tone had lost its teeth.

Hoseok tilted his head, the very picture of reasonable concern. “Y/N doesn’t belong to the HOA, though, right?” he said mildly. “Seems like a misunderstanding. Maybe you could schedule a meeting? I’m heading back to Denver, but Monday’s my day off. I’d be happy to join a neighborhood discussion. Clear the air.”

The blondes exchanged a look that said: We just got invited to a party with a celebrity. Rae cleared her throat. “Monday at seven might work,” she conceded.

“Perfect,” Hoseok said, with a smile so genuine it could’ve warmed a glacier. The shorter blonde sighed dreamily. Rae just nodded, all her bravado melted like butter on hot toast.

Behind them, Blair muttered something triumphant—something involving “bitches” and “booyah”—then promptly leaned against Santa, trying to give him a taste of her wine.

When the blondes drifted off, possibly to brag about their Monday meeting with Hoseok Jung, he turned to Y/N. “Need a hand with Blair?” he asked, already moving to steady her.

Y/N gave him a grateful, lopsided smile. “Please. She’s on a roll tonight.”

Hoseok scooped Blair up like a rowdy toddler and carried her toward the house, Blair giggling and whispering nonsense about quarterbacks and “naughty Santa” in his ear. The whole scene felt like a snapshot from a cozy indie movie—Christmas lights glowing soft around them, warm laughter inside, and Y/N at his side, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Once inside, he deposited Blair gently on the couch. Y/N straightened a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she said softly, arms folding across her chest. “She’s great, but... a handful when she’s had too much wine.”

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve seen worse tailgate parties,” he teased. “She’s entertaining.”

Y/N watched her friend burrow into the couch cushions, still clutching the wine bottle as if it were a cherished teddy bear, then turned back to him. Her expression had changed—softened, relaxed. “I guess I owe you one,” she said.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I think we’re even. But I’ll keep the ‘tap my ass’ suggestion on the table,” he added, voice low and playful.

Y/N flushed pink and let out a scandalized laugh. “I can’t believe she said that,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hand for a second.

He shrugged, eyes never leaving hers. “She’s not entirely wrong,” he said, pretending to examine the lights on the wall. “I am pretty tappable, from what I hear.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a gentle, playful shove. “You’re trouble, Jung.”

“Good trouble,” he countered, quiet and sure, something warm slipping into his tone.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to vanish. It was just the two of them in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, Blair’s faint snores in the background, and the distant hum of small-town life wrapping around them like a cozy scarf. Maybe he’d be back in Denver soon, and maybe they lived in different spheres. But right now, Y/N was right here in front of him, and he was more than happy to be a little trouble in her world.

With Blair sound asleep and softly snoring, Y/N suddenly realized something crucial: she was alone with Hoseok. The very Hoseok who’d heard Blair, in her infinite drunken wisdom, tell her to “tap that ass.” Fantastic. Just the scenario you dream of, right?

The air felt charged, like the hush after a good joke and right before everyone breaks into laughter. Y/N tried to find her footing in what always comforted her—simple hospitality. “Want something to drink?” she blurted, her voice coming out way too eager, like she was offering a lifeboat instead of a beverage.

Hoseok smiled, and there was just a hint of mischief in it. “Beer?” he suggested, eyebrows raised like he was testing her.

“Beer. Right. Coming up,” she said, grateful for something to do besides melt on the spot. She practically darted into the kitchen. “Is Corona okay?” she called, relieved to be behind the open fridge door, where he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

“Got a lime?” he asked, voice smooth enough to make her heart skip twice.

“Yeah, from taco night,” she said, rummaging around. “Taehyung’s obsessed with the whole lime-and-Corona thing. I think it makes him feel like he’s on some tropical beach, instead of here where the big excitement is a holiday HOA debate.” She rolled her eyes at herself, then handed him the bottle and wedge of lime.

“Nothing wrong with pretending,” Hoseok said, leaning against the counter. His gaze followed her movements so closely that she almost felt like a painting he was admiring. “So… you and Taehyung—twins?”

Y/N laughed as she twisted open her own soda. “Not quite. We’re a year apart. People at school called us the ‘Kim twins’ anyway. He’s tall and broad, and I’m built like my halmeoni. Still, I grew up hearing, ‘Oh, you must be Taehyung’s sister!’ which was my personal favorite.”

Hoseok smiled, something soft and understanding there. “My family’s scattered everywhere. Mom and Dad are in England right now, visiting my uncle. I’m grateful we all stay connected, even if it’s at weird distances.”

Y/N couldn’t help a grin. “Did you pack tights for the trip?” she teased, recalling something about England and stadium traditions—though maybe that was rugby.

He snorted, eyes crinkling. “The closest I have are my uniform pants. Not quite the same look.”

Uniform pants. Y/N’s thoughts took a brief, traitorous journey to how Hoseok probably looked in those uniform pants, and she nearly choked on her soda. Perfect timing, Blair mumbled something incomprehensible from the couch, followed by a muttered “Biotch,” and Hoseok burst into laughter so warm it filled the entire kitchen.

Y/N shook her head, fond but exasperated. “This is mild for her. Last time she hit the tequila, we found her on the roof trying to talk the moon down for a midnight chat. She was, um… not clothed.”

Hoseok’s laughter turned breathless, forcing him to set down his beer. “You’re kidding.”

Y/N held up her hands. “Swear. We got her down eventually, but not before she tried to sing a love ballad to a very startled raccoon.”

They both laughed, but then the mood shifted slightly as Y/N’s smile took on a sympathetic tilt. “This year’s been tough for her. First Christmas without her mom, plus they’re trying to start a family. I think it all just hit her tonight.”

Hoseok’s expression turned gentle, the understanding deepening. “Life sneaks up on you sometimes.”

A soft hush settled between them, a moment that felt more meaningful than anything they’d said. The twinkling Christmas lights in the other room cast a friendly glow, and Y/N wondered if this was how new memories formed—quietly, unexpectedly, in small-town kitchens while someone snored on the couch.

She cleared her throat, feeling the moment tiptoe toward something more intense. “Another beer?” she offered, holding the fridge door open like a shield.

Hoseok shook his head. “One’s enough. I try not to drink too much during the season. Gotta keep my focus.”

“Right, football and all,” Y/N said, stepping back and finding him suddenly closer—so close, in fact, that the scent of him was all warm fabric and subtle cologne. She almost squeaked in surprise but managed to keep it together.

Her breath caught as their eyes met, and suddenly he was there, right there, tilting his head so their faces nearly touched. If she’d wanted to move back, she couldn’t have—she was drawn in, completely, like gravity had decided this exact moment was too perfect to resist.

Then he kissed her. A soft, searching kiss that felt like a secret spoken aloud for the first time. She melted into it, her hands curving over his chest, feeling the heat of him through his sweater. His arms found her waist, and the gentle tension between them turned into something bright and urgent. She barely registered when he lifted her onto the counter, their breaths mingling, his kisses trailing softly down her neck, sending electric sparks skittering beneath her skin.

It was quiet and magical and everything she never knew she wanted at that exact second—until the clomping sound of boots in the hallway snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, Y/N, we got any food?” Taehyung’s voice drifted in, casual and clueless, like a bowling ball striking pins of romantic tension.

They pulled apart as if someone had flipped a switch. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, and Hoseok’s eyes were still dark and a little dazed. They stared at each other, caught in the aftermath of a perfect, impossible moment.

Taehyung’s footsteps got louder, heading their way. Y/N’s heart sank and soared at the same time. She shot Hoseok a look that said, We are so busted, and tried to smooth her hair, tried to pretend she wasn’t just thoroughly kissing a very famous, very attractive quarterback on her kitchen counter.

As Taehyung popped into view, Y/N forced a bright, shaky smile. But inside, a thousand thoughts danced and collided: He’s leaving soon, we barely know each other, what just happened, what does this mean, oh god oh god oh god.

She met Hoseok’s gaze one more time, and there was that spark again, a promise unspoken. Y/N swallowed hard, knowing her heart might never be the same.

After the kiss—that one kiss that had nearly knocked the air right out of Hoseok’s lungs—it was all he could think about. The memory of Y/N’s lips on his, the way she fit so perfectly against him, how the world had narrowed down to just the two of them… It was like stepping into a lightning storm and being thrilled instead of terrified. Now he was back in Denver, and it felt unreal. Had it been a dream? The more he replayed it, the more he wondered if she was slipping from tangible reality into wistful memory.

He hadn’t seen her since. Not once. He hadn’t even gotten her number—who did that in this day and age? It wasn’t until Monday, as he was sitting behind the wheel, driving back into the heart of Salida, that he realized how much was still unsaid. He’d told himself the HOA meeting was what drew him back, but deep down he knew better. He was here because of her, because he needed to know if that kiss had spun her world off its axis the way it had spun his.

Pulling into Ji-woo’s driveway, he couldn’t help but look straight across the street at the Kims’ house. Twinkling lights decorated the front yard in a way that seemed to laugh at the stuffy HOA rules. Arabella spotted him from the porch and let out a squeal that lit up her entire face—her delight so real and honest it warmed him from the inside out. Family was why he’d returned; he reminded himself of that. But even as he swept Arabella into a bear hug, laughing as she pointed excitedly at the lights, his mind drifted to another face entirely.

Ji-woo caught his eye, smirking just a little, like she knew exactly what was going on in that head of his. “She’s been waiting for you,” she said, voice light, but her tone held a deeper note—an understanding, maybe even approval.

Arabella waved at the lights, riled up with holiday glee. “Uncle Hobi, lights!” she insisted, as if he hadn’t noticed them glowing in the twilight.

“That’s right, kiddo,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m gonna do my best to make sure they stay right where they are.” Arabella’s grin was like a stamp of approval all on its own. Still, his mind kept wandering, drifting across the street, wondering if Y/N was inside right now, maybe looking out the window, remembering their last encounter the way he did.

He tried to ground himself with small talk. “Did you catch the game yesterday?” he asked Arabella, fully aware of her likely answer.

“No ball!” she announced primly, wrinkling her nose like football was the lamest invention ever. Hoseok chuckled and set her down, just in time to see a familiar Kia pulling into the Kims’ driveway.

Y/N stepped out, looking effortlessly put together in grey slacks and a soft pink sweater, a black coat draped over her arm. She moved with a kind of quiet grace that made Hoseok’s heart skip. From the way she carried herself, to the gentle curve of her smile—he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hey, neighbors!” she called, voice ringing softly through the crisp air. “Ready for tonight?” There was that easy warmth to her tone, the slightest lift at the end like an invitation.

Hoseok tried for nonchalance, even as his pulse fluttered. “Looking forward to it,” he said, hoping he sounded as smooth as he was trying to be.

Her gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer than necessary. “If you want to come by beforehand, Tae’s making pizza, and I’ve got brownies.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her eyes flicked to him again, and the corner of her mouth curved in a secret smile that set off sparks under his skin.

Arabella squealed, clearly sold at the mere mention of brownies. Ji-woo laughed, holding her back. “I think she likes your idea,” she said, and Y/N answered with a light laugh of her own.

“Come whenever,” Y/N said, still looking at Hoseok. “Unless you have other plans?” There was a playful note in her voice, a gentle challenge. He swallowed, trying to find words, but Ji-woo jumped in first.

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Ji-woo said decisively, shooting him a look that said Don’t even think about backing out, buddy.

Y/N gave a small nod, that small smile still in place, before heading inside. Hoseok watched her go, his mind whirring with a hundred questions, a thousand hopes. He’d barely stepped foot back in town, and already they had dinner plans. He didn’t know what tonight would bring, but he was buzzing with anticipation—like he was on the field, seconds before the play that could change everything.

“Dinner with the Kims, huh?” Ji-woo teased, eyebrows raised, her voice sing-song with suggestion. Maxwell appeared out of nowhere, eyes big. “Did someone say brownies?”

Hoseok ruffled Maxwell’s hair absently. “And pizza,” he said, though he was only half-present. His thoughts were already across the street, trying to parse every smile, every lifted eyebrow Y/N had offered.

Inside the house, he could feel the warmth of family wrapping around him—but tonight, he wanted more than that. He wanted a moment alone with her. He needed to know if that night in the kitchen, their kiss full of promise and possibility, was just a beautiful blip… or the start of something bigger. Tonight, he might just find out.

Inside, Y/N felt like every one of her nerves had decided to start a chorus line on her spine. Holy hell—Hoseok was back in town, and he looked better than any memory could do justice. Her thoughts skittered around that kiss they’d shared once, the kiss that still had the power to make her heart pound whenever it popped into her head. She’d replayed it in her mind more times than she’d care to admit, always wondering if it had knocked him off-balance as much as it had rattled her. And now he was here, standing at her door again. If there was any fairness in the world, they’d get a second take on that unforgettable moment.

But first, there was her brother. Taehyung had a flair for throwing a wrench into her plans. “Tae!” she hollered up the stairs, trying not to sound frantic. “Get down here! Ji-woo, Hoseok, and the kids are on their way, and Joon’s coming, too!”

“Already in the kitchen, sis!” came his voice, and relief swam through her. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a chaos-fest after all.

She found him amid a pizza-making operation so elaborate it could’ve been a culinary art exhibit. Pizza crusts spread out like blank canvases, toppings arranged in tidy rows, Taehyung wielding an olive oil brush as if he were painting a masterpiece. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a casual shrug.

“I figured the kids could make their own pizzas,” he said, as if it were no big deal. “We can handle a few personal pies at once.”

Y/N stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You know, you can be really sweet, Tae,” she teased, going in to pinch his cheek. He dodged with a mock-flex of his bicep.

“And don’t forget good-looking,” he tossed back, striking a ridiculous pose that made her roll her eyes.

“Stop that,” Y/N said, stifling a laugh. “You’ll scare the kids.”

They laughed together, comfortable and teasing, until the doorbell rang. Y/N ran a quick hand through her hair, adjusted her bra strap, tried to look casual. For the kids, sure, but mostly for their uncle. She flicked on the Christmas tree lights and opened the door just in time to see Maxwell rocket inside, followed by Ji-woo wielding a giant salad bowl. And then, Hoseok. He entered with Arabella perched in his arms, the sight of him so effortlessly handsome that Y/N’s breath hitched. Seriously, how did he manage to look even better than the last time?

“Brought salad,” Ji-woo announced, smiling warmly.

“Perfect,” Y/N said, ushering them all in. “We’ll need something green to balance all the carbs.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Tae’s got a pizza station set up. The kids can go wild.”

Maxwell and Arabella shot off like tiny comets, squealing at the prospect of decorating their own pizzas. Arabella paused only to nod solemnly at Y/N’s Christmas tree, as if granting it royal approval, before joining her brother.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else—but then she felt a gentle tug on her hand. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Hoseok, standing much closer than expected. His eyes held a warm gleam, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice pitched for her ears only.

“Hi,” she managed, just before he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers—a light, quick kiss that somehow still rattled her bones. It was shy and bold all at once, and it made that memory of their first kiss crackle back to life, reminding her just how good they’d been together.

“You never gave me your number,” he teased, dark eyes dancing.

She feigned nonchalance. “You never asked,” she said, a playful lift in her brow.

“I’m asking now,” he grinned, extending his phone.

She typed her number carefully, trying to keep her fingers steady and her face neutral, then handed it back with a smile. “There, now you have it.”

Before Hoseok could respond, two solid knocks rattled the door. Namjoon stepped inside like a man on a mission, still in his captain’s uniform, scanning the room as if expecting to find mischief afoot.

“Kid, you’ve gotta start locking that door,” he scolded, but Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“It’s Salida, Dad. We’re fine.” She motioned everyone toward the kitchen. “Tae’s making pizza, come on.”

Namjoon’s gaze landed on Hoseok. “Good game, son,” he said, giving a respectful nod. “Pizza ready?”

“Tae’s on it,” Y/N answered, slipping away from Hoseok with a quick, secret smile. She noticed Hoseok’s eyes following her—like he was reluctant to let her out of his sight—and her heart stumbled a little.

Namjoon grunted appreciatively. “If architecture doesn’t pan out, that boy could open a pizzeria.”

Y/N snorted. “Sure, because working for one of the biggest developers in the West isn’t enough for him. He needs a pizza empire.”

As if summoned by his new entrepreneurial calling, Taehyung appeared with the kids, all wearing holiday aprons. Maxwell’s had snowmen, Arabella’s had Santas, and Taehyung’s proudly proclaimed ‘Got Mistletoe?’ Hoseok joined them, kneeling down to admire the toppings. The kitchen swelled with laughter and chatter as everyone piled their pizzas high.

Soon, Ji-woo’s salad was making rounds, and they hovered together, waiting for the pizzas to bake. The air smelled like yeast and tomato sauce and spices. Light bounced off shiny ornaments on the Christmas tree just beyond the kitchen doorway. It felt like the set of a warm holiday special, the kind you watched curled up under a blanket.

Jungkook and Blair arrived, drawn by the promise of good food and the evening’s impending drama at the HOA meeting. Blair was especially giddy, eyeing the brownies and pizza like party favors at a carnival. But Hoseok barely noticed them. He was watching Y/N, watching the way she laughed with her family, the way she moved around the kitchen so naturally, as if this place had a gravity all its own, pulling them all closer.

Namjoon snagged a brownie, chewing thoughtfully before turning to Y/N with a mock-serious glare. “I’m gonna need these at the station’s potluck,” he said, lips quirking into a grudging smile. “Yoongi will have my head if I don’t show up with something good.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Magic word?”

Namjoon made a show of pouting. “Pleease, Sissy?” He drew it out until Y/N burst into laughter. The sound rang bright and clear, filling the room with an easy, loving warmth.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, completely enchanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at home in a place that wasn’t really his home at all. The memory of their brief kiss hummed in his veins, a promise that maybe this moment, this feeling, didn’t have to be temporary. Maybe it could lead somewhere real.

As he sat there, watching Y/N tease her dad, saw Taehyung and Jungkook ganging up on Namjoon with good-humored glee, and caught Arabella’s serious nod of approval for every single topping choice… Hoseok realized something. He wasn’t just attracted to Y/N. He was drawn to the life around her, the family she was part of, the easy, genuine way she cared for the people in her orbit.

She looked back at him then, as if sensing his thoughts, and in that glance was everything: the memory of their kiss, the humor in their banter, and a hint of something else—something hopeful and warm and bright, like a candle flickering to life in the dark.

Hoseok turned as Taehyung nudged him, offering a fresh plate of brownies with a conspiratorial wink. He took one, smiling as he popped it into his mouth. Sure, there was a meeting later and a hundred unresolved questions. But right now, in this laughing, glowing kitchen, Hoseok could believe that he’d found something worth holding on to—and her name was Y/N.

At the HOA meeting that night, Tiffany and Rachel swept in like it was some Saturday night hotspot—clicking heels, sequined dresses catching the fluorescent lights in a way that felt more tragic than glamorous. Blair had to step outside to control her laughter, and when she came back, her shoulders still shook quietly. The rest of them huddled in folding chairs that squeaked when you leaned back too far, trying not to stare too openly at the spectacle.

Tiffany and Rachel took their seats at the front beside old Scott Watts Sr., who looked about eighty and seemed to be only halfway tuned in. His son, Scott Jr., hovered near him, trying not to look mortified.

“Meeting called to order,” Rachel said in a voice that aimed for regal and landed closer to nasal. She shot Y/N a look that implied the Christmas lights issue was basically a personal vendetta. She even angled a sultry glance at Hoseok, but it landed somewhere between a sneer and the face you make when you realize the milk’s gone sour.

From across the room, Y/N caught Blair’s eye, and they exchanged smirks. If nothing else, this evening would make for some hilarious after-party commentary.

“This is about the clear violation of HOA bylaws,” Rachel droned, lifting her chin, “concerning the Kims’ front yard décor.” She delivered the line like it was a grave sin worthy of excommunication.

“I’ll have the tea,” Scott Sr. mumbled, cutting across Rachel’s speech. People turned and looked at each other in confusion, while Tiffany’s eyes rolled so dramatically Y/N half-expected them to pop out.

Tiffany jumped in next, puffing herself up. “As you know,” she said, “we voted two years ago for strict decoration bylaws to preserve the tasteful image of our neighborhood.”

“Tiff?” Deiondre Park raised her hand from the front row, looking perfectly composed.

“We haven’t opened the floor to comments,” Tiffany snapped, like a principal scolding a rowdy class.

“I believe it’s a clarification, not a comment,” cut in Deiondre’s husband, Jimin, in that measured tone only a traffic judge could master. Tiffany flinched—probably recalling the time she’d tried flirting her way out of a ticket and failed spectacularly.

From the back, someone shouted, “Let her speak!” and murmurings of agreement swelled through the room. Hoseok slid his hand over Y/N’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A quiet sign: We’ve got this.

“Deiondre,” Rachel said with a huge, fake sigh, “go ahead.”

“I just don’t recall a vote,” Deiondre said, voice steady and confident. “Are there notes from that meeting? Because I’ve never seen them. Nor have I heard these rules mentioned before.”

Heads bobbed, a subtle wave of dissent rippling through the crowd.

“Told you it was shady,” Namjoon whispered to Y/N, crossing his arms. He looked like he was ready to slap metaphorical handcuffs on Tiffany and Rachel.

“I remember something about preferring white lights,” Tanya Hartley called from the back. “Rachel said it was standard for Avalanche properties.”

“Yeah,” Ford Fraserns chimed in, leaning forward with a daring gleam in his eyes. “And who put you two in charge, anyway?”

Rachel stiffened, her shoulders pulling back like a cat about to hiss. “We were voted in, along with Mr. Watts,” she said icily, as if that single sentence held all the authority in the world.

“Where’s that tea?” Scott Sr. mumbled again. This time, more people chuckled quietly. One of the old-timers, Adam Wagener, hollered, “Scotty, turn on your hearing aid!” and got a round of suppressed snorts for his trouble.

“What?” Scott shouted, fumbling with his earpiece. “Are we talking about Christmas lights now?”

“Yep,” Adam said, grinning wide. “And why you’re complaining.”

Scott Sr. threw up his hands. “I’m not! Those two—” he jerked a thumb at Tiffany and Rachel—“kept rattling on about colored lights being trashy. So I turned off my hearing aid. Figured I’d come back when they were done.” The crowd laughed outright now, and Y/N bit her lip to keep it together.

Tiffany flushed, doubling down. “We did have a vote! June 19th, 2022—about community beautification. White lights, no blow-ups.”

“And no gnomes,” Rachel chimed in, glaring at the Lawrences. “No need for entire gnome villages.”

“I’m still with Lee,” James Lawrence retorted. “Who put you two on the throne?”

“We were voted in for four-year terms,” Tiffany said with a smug little smirk. “Two years left.”

Hoseok leaned toward Y/N. “Clueless, isn’t she?” he murmured, amused.

“She lives in her own bubble,” Y/N whispered back, stifling a grin.

Before anyone could continue, Blair nudged Jungkook, and the two of them rose, moving to the front with a steady confidence that quieted the room. Hoseok glanced at Y/N, brows raised. Y/N just shook her head, excitement dancing in her eyes. She had no idea what they were about to do, but she knew it would be good.

Jungkook cleared his throat, his voice easily filling the room. “I’m Jungkook Jeon, and this is my wife Blair Reid-Jeon. Some of you remember me from when I lived in Salida.” A few heads nodded. “I’m also President and CEO of Avalanche Development.”

The entire room stilled. Tiffany and Rachel looked like they’d just realized their glittery dresses were inside out. Blair took over, her tone crisp. “When we built these communities, we wanted them family-friendly and fair. The basic HOA rules are standard. But any amendments—” she held up a binder “—are required to be provided to homeowners in writing.”

Jungkook scanned the crowd. “How many of you received notice of these amendments?” Only two hands went up—Rachel and Tiffany’s husbands. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

Jungkook continued calmly. “Since Tiffany and Rachel were elected, twenty-five amendments have been submitted here. Our other developments average six in the same period. That raised some questions.”

Blair nodded. “According to Avalanche policy, if we suspect a board is violating the original agreements, we can suspend that board pending an investigation. During suspension, all changes they enacted are null and void.”

A cheer erupted, applause rattling the folding chairs. Tiffany and Rachel looked as if their sequined dresses had turned into scratchy potato sacks. Their jaws tightened as if physically holding back protest.

Jungkook delivered the final blow, his voice carrying the ring of authority: “Until a new vote is held, Taehyung Kim will serve as the local representative for Avalanche Development.”

The crowd whooped. Taehyung waved, trying and failing to hide his pride. Rachel and Tiffany, thoroughly deflated, gathered their purses and their husbands and slunk out, heads low.

Y/N caught Hoseok’s eye, and he grinned wide. She felt light and triumphant, like something stuck in her throat had finally cleared. Tonight, they’d won back their Christmas lights, their freedom, and their dignity. And maybe, she thought, as Hoseok gave her hand another gentle, reassuring squeeze, they’d won something even sweeter than that.

Y/N leaned into Hoseok, her heart swelling with satisfaction. “I love it when justice is served.”

“Especially with a side of brownies,” Hoseok murmured, draping an arm around her and pulling her close.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Y/N turned to him with a grin. “Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” she laughed, eyes sparkling with victory. “I was hoping for a full-blown protest.”

Hoseok chuckled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s always next time.”

Jungkook joined them, his grin mischievous as always. “Blair’s dad and our legal team did some serious digging. A few calls to the homeowners confirmed our suspicions—no one knew about these ‘amendments.’ And Deiondre? She’s ready to lead the charge. Tiffany once tried to charm Jimin out of some speeding tickets, but Deiondre? She’s got a long memory and a grudge.”

“So, can we light up Ji-woo’s yard?” Hoseok asked, glancing at Jungkook with a glint of hope.

“Hell yes,” Namjoon said, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder. “We’ll surprise Ms. Ari with the lights first thing in the morning.”

“And we should get some for our yard, too,” Y/N added, nudging Taehyung with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Nothing like a little reminder that sneaky business doesn’t pay off.”

Hoseok’s grin widened as he looked at her. “Need a shopping partner?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Why, Mr. Jung, I’d be honored. Think you can handle Target?”

Hoseok winked, making her stomach flutter. “Target’s my secret addiction.”

Laughing, Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the car. “Let’s go before the others catch on!” she whispered with a grin, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. “Blair is fascinated by the fact that you can buy toilet paper and cute shoes at the same place!”

They were still laughing as they slid into his SUV. Y/N settled into the cozy warmth, inhaling the scent of him—something spicy and clean with a hint of leather. She could barely focus on anything but him.

“Music?” Hoseok asked as he started the car, giving her a curious look.

She nodded, wondering what he’d choose. When Sam Hunt’s Take Your Time started playing, she raised an eyebrow. “Country?” she teased, grinning.

Hoseok chuckled. “I like a bit of everything. Try not to judge.”

“Same,” Y/N agreed. “Taehyung always jokes that my playlists are the most chaotic thing about me.”

The drive was easy, filled with conversation—his move to Denver, her memories of growing up in Salida, Taehyung’s infamous cooking disaster. By the time they pulled into Target’s empty parking lot, it felt like only minutes had passed.

Inside, Y/N led the way to the Christmas section, fingers trailing over garlands and lights. She picked up a Frosty the Snowman blow-up, then a Grinch one, holding them up with a mischievous grin. “I’m thinking the Grinch right between Tiffany and Rachel’s houses.”

Hoseok laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart race. They wandered the aisles, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. At one point, Y/N broke into an off-key rendition of “Say You’ll Be There” by the Spice Girls, and Hoseok watched her, utterly captivated. Every little thing about her pulled him in, until he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to pull away.

“What do you think of these?” Y/N held up a box of large, multicolored retro lights, her eyes bright. “Thinking they’d look great in the windows.”

“They’re perfect,” Hoseok replied, holding up his own find—a large Rudolph blow-up. “Think Arabella will like this?”

“She’ll love it,” Y/N giggled, imagining the little girl’s delight. “She can put it right next to Santa.”

Just then, a young employee approached, wide-eyed as he recognized Hoseok. “Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung,” he whispered, starstruck.

Hoseok gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, Fraser. Could you keep it low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop.”

The phrase my girl sent a thrill through Y/N’s chest, even if she knew it was just a way to keep things quiet. Still, it felt nice. Really nice.

Fraser looked ecstatic. “No problem. My dad’s a huge fan—he’d never believe I met you.”

“FaceTime him,” Y/N suggested, smiling. She loved making people’s day; it was one of the many things Hoseok admired about her. A few minutes later, Fraser was video chatting with his dad, and Hoseok was chatting and laughing with them both like old friends. At checkout, Fraser even gave them his employee discount as a thank-you, and Y/N, ever the charmer, kissed his cheek, wishing him a happy holiday.

As they stashed their bags in the car, Hoseok reached for her hand again. The touch was electric, and she looked up at him, heart racing as his thumb brushed over her skin.

“So,” Hoseok teased, his voice soft, “should I be jealous of Fraser?”

Y/N laughed, her voice a little breathless. “Oh, please,” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile. And then, without thinking, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt—the spark between them igniting into a full, consuming blaze. His lips moved against hers with a heat that left her breathless, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. Every inch of her was alive, responding to him with a rush of want and need she couldn’t control.

Hoseok’s hands gripped her waist, pulling her onto his lap as the kiss deepened. The soft leather seats of the SUV faded away, the world outside disappearing as his mouth claimed hers. His fingers traced the curve of her back, sending delicious shivers down her spine, and Y/N couldn’t think of anything beyond the way he was making her feel.

When he finally pulled back, his breath warm against her skin, he whispered, his voice husky, “You taste so good.”

Her head spun, her heart pounding as she whispered back, “Oh God, Hoseok…”

He groaned, hands tightening on her waist, but managed to pull back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his voice thick with restraint. “We really need to go,” he muttered, his tone both regretful and amused. “Pretty sure this parking lot isn’t the best place for this.”

“There’s a Motel 6 about ten minutes away,” Y/N teased, a wicked grin on her lips as she nibbled his lower lip.

Hoseok chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes, but there was a seriousness in his voice that sent a flutter through her heart. “Baby, our first time isn’t gonna be in some motel.”

“Damn,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him one last time, slower this time, savoring the taste of him before reluctantly slipping back into her seat. He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead, and even as they sat there in the warm silence, she knew this was far from over. Her body hummed with anticipation, her mind spinning with possibilities. And as Hoseok started the engine, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. One thing was certain—neither of them wanted this night to end.

That weekend, Hoseok had an away game, so he left early Tuesday morning to head back to Denver. But even a hundred miles couldn’t dull the connection between them. The distance didn’t stop them from staying in constant contact, texting, talking, and FaceTiming every chance they got, like their conversations were the only thing holding them together. The weekend flew by in a whirlwind of Broncos’ victory, securing their playoff spot and a first-round bye.

On Monday night, Hoseok’s voice filled her phone with a warmth that made her heart flutter. “Come to Denver for the weekend,” he suggested during their FaceTime call, his tone casual but carrying an unmistakable spark of anticipation. He turned his camera around to show off his sleek, modern condo with city lights twinkling behind the windows. “Stay with me. I’ll even cook my famous tacos.”

“Famous tacos?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her couch with a half-smile, trying to play it cool despite the excitement bubbling in her chest.

“Yep,” Hoseok grinned, amused by her skepticism. “You know the drill: open the yellow box, brown the meat, stir in the seasoning packet, chop some toppings—boom, gourmet masterpiece.” He delivered his ‘recipe’ with mock seriousness, his playful eyes crinkling at the corners.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t you think we should go on an actual date before I spend a weekend at your place, eating your so-called ‘famous tacos’?”

Hoseok’s grin widened. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he said, drawing out her name like it was a melody, teasing her as he leaned closer to the camera, “We’ve already been on plenty of dates. Let’s recap, shall we? First, there was the Christmas party where you dressed as an elf for me. By the way, if you still have that costume, feel free to bring it.” He gave a sly wink that made her cheeks flush.

Y/N covered her face, laughing. “That doesn’t count as a date!”

“Oh, it absolutely counts,” he insisted, barely holding back his own laughter. “Then there was that very classy ‘date’ in your kitchen, where your legs were wrapped around my waist, and your tongue was down my throat—top second date ever.”

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, though her heart raced at the memory, her face heating up.

“We had a double date with your brother and my sister. Sure, Namjoon and the kids were there, but it totally counts,” he said, grinning. “And we went to a show together—the HOA meeting, which was nothing short of a Broadway production.”

Y/N could barely hold it together, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “So, those were all ‘dates,’ huh?”

“Absolutely,” Hoseok replied, his expression still playful. “And, in some cultures, with how often your tongue’s been in my mouth, we’re practically engaged.”

“Wait, we jumped from dates to being engaged?” she teased, rolling her eyes, though her heart skipped at the word engaged.

“In some cultures,” he replied smoothly, his grin softening. “Which clearly means it’s not too soon for you to come spend the weekend with me—your potential future husband.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a flicker of nerves and excitement. Potential future husband. The words echoed in her mind, both ridiculous and somehow incredibly sweet. Her heart fluttered, and before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, “Oh hell, Hoseok, who am I to argue with that?”

They ended the call with playful promises, but as she set her phone down, she realized she was pacing her living room, mind whirling with the decision she’d just made. She was going to spend the weekend with Hoseok. At his place.

Was he serious about the ‘practically engaged’ part? She had no idea, but all she could think about was the “naked fun times” he’d hinted at. Her pulse quickened, her skin heating at the memory of their kiss—the way he had touched her, the way she had wanted him.

“Why are you pacing?” Taehyung’s voice broke through her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Just… exercising. Gotta get my steps in,” she lied quickly, definitely not ready to admit the truth—especially not about the “naked fun times.”

Taehyung squinted, clearly unconvinced, but let it go. “Any plans tonight? I thought we could watch Christmas Vacation or something.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She’d have to tell him eventually, and maybe sooner was better. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the news as casually as she could. “Actually… I’ll be in Denver this weekend. Hoseok invited me to stay at his place.”

Taehyung’s face lit up with a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling. “Well, well, looks like things are getting serious. Sure you don’t want to stay at my place instead? Save on hotel costs?”

"You mean Jungkook and Blair’s pool house?” Y/N shot back, smirking because she knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s the Tae Cave, don’t you forget it.” Taehyung laughed, and before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing, carrying her toward the front door.

“Put me down, you idiot!” she shrieked, smacking his back while he stumbled onto the lawn.

Taehyung only grinned, unbothered by her protests. “Ji-woo! Y/N agreed to watch the kids tonight!”

From across the lawn, Ji-woo glanced over, giving them both a knowing smile as she tossed a ball to her kids. “Do boys ever grow up?” she asked, her voice full of teasing.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “Nope. They’re all Peter Pans at heart.”

Fifteen minutes later, Y/N was back inside, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement as she texted Blair.

Y/N: I’m spending the weekend at Hoseok’s place.

Blair: Girl, you better tap that ass!

Y/N: Well… I think I will.

Blair’s response came back instantly, her enthusiasm practically leaping off the screen.

Blair: YES, finally! Go get it, girl! He’s so into you—I can feel it from here!

Y/N set her phone down, her lips curling into a grin that reached her eyes. The weekend stretched out before her like an open road, brimming with possibilities she hadn’t even dared to dream about. But even as she tried to play it cool, there was a nagging question in the back of her mind: What did this mean for them? Was this just a fun weekend fling, or was the connection between her and Hoseok something deeper?

Meanwhile, Hoseok felt like everything was clicking into place. His coach was over the moon about their playoff win, and on the field, he was playing with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. He could already picture that Super Bowl ring on his finger and the pride shining in Namjoon’s eyes. But there was one hurdle he hadn’t quite cleared—dating Namjoon’s little sister without landing on the wrong side of her brother’s protective instincts. If he could navigate that, the Super Bowl would feel like a stroll in the park.

As for the weekend ahead? Hoseok had a different kind of goal in mind—a personal mission that had nothing to do with football.

The doorman buzzed, signaling his guest’s arrival. Hoseok did a quick sweep of the apartment, making sure everything was in order. Steaks rested on the counter, sweet potatoes were warming in the oven, and a bottle of wine sat ready in case Y/N needed a break from her usual whiskey. A bouquet of red and white flowers added a touch of cozy, holiday cheer—perfect for the night they’d come together to reclaim their Christmas spirit.

Just as the elevator dinged, Hoseok rushed to the door and caught sight of Y/N stepping out. She looked a bit stunned but as beautiful as ever, cheeks flushed from the cold and bundled up in her winter coat.

“You made it,” he grinned, stepping forward to pull her into a hug. Her familiar warmth enveloped him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Blair dropped me off,” she murmured into his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck. “She had to pick up some paperwork. Apparently, they found proof that Rachel was skimming HOA funds—billing for stuff and pocketing the money. They’re pressing charges. Tiffany was just following her lead, but there’s no evidence she took any of it.” She sighed, pulling back to look him in the eye. “And we stopped by Joon’s place so I could grab my suitcase. But he used it last for that cruise, so I had to get it from him. The cruiser was there, but no one answered the door, and I got worried. He’s not exactly young anymore, and his cholesterol isn’t great…”

Hoseok felt a pang of concern tighten his chest. Gently, he guided her inside, leading her to the living room as he closed the door behind them.

“Is Namjoon okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice flat as she replied, “My brother was having sex with Teagan Carter.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. “Former Broncos cheerleader Teagan Carter. Blair and I walked in on him… in full doggy style… on the kitchen table where I ate breakfast every day growing up.” Her tone was so deadpan, so matter-of-fact, that Hoseok had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

He’d seen his parents through enough awkward moments to know the trauma, but the image of rule-following Namjoon caught in such an act almost broke his composure. Still, Y/N looked genuinely shaken, so he swallowed his amusement. He wasn’t about to let anything ruin their night.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, pulling her close and guiding her to the big, squishy sectional in his living room. “Sounds like you could use a strong whiskey.”

He sat her down, brushing a stray hair from her face before heading to the bar. Pouring her a couple of fingers, he handed her the glass, watching as she downed it in one gulp before holding it out for more. He poured a second, and this time, she sipped more slowly.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she said, her voice steadier as she glanced over at the festive bouquet. “And the whiskey.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, feeling a warmth spread through him as he watched her start to relax. “How about we eat in here tonight? I’ve got steaks, sweet potatoes, and creamed southwestern-style corn. We can just sit on the couch, watch something, take it easy. No table, no formality.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, looking around the room with a small smile, her shoulders finally losing some tension.

“Wait… no Christmas tree?” she teased, glancing back at him with a playful pout.

Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had one, but I forgot to water it, and it pretty much died. Total fire hazard, so I got rid of it.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “What would Arabella say?”

“Oh, she’d fire me on the spot,” he replied with mock horror. “But don’t worry—we’ll go to a Christmas store tomorrow and get a replacement. We’ll decorate it together before my niece disowns me for holiday negligence.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and he felt the last bit of tension melt away from her body. They ate quickly, the food delicious but secondary to the easy flow of conversation between them. White Christmas played softly in the background, and as Y/N fed him small bites of steak, the air grew charged. Their playful touches lingered, her hand resting on his thigh a little longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against her shoulder as they exchanged knowing glances.

By the time dinner was over, Hoseok felt the pull between them, the simmering desire they both seemed to be tiptoeing around. He’d been trying to take things slow, but it was getting harder to ignore how her body leaned into his, how her eyes traced his mouth like a path she wanted to follow.

“I’m just gonna use the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing up with a soft smile before disappearing down the hall.

Hoseok took the chance to brush his teeth, trying to steady himself, but it all felt oddly… domestic. Sharing a meal, cleaning up, brushing their teeth in the same space like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time, it hit him just how right it felt to have her here, in his home. He didn’t know where this was going, but he was sure of one thing: he didn’t want to lose whatever this was.

“Hoseok?” Her voice floated softly down the hall, pulling him from his thoughts. He stepped out of the bathroom to find her standing there, looking at him with a warmth in her eyes that made his chest tighten.

“Sorry, I needed to brush mine too,” he said with a small smile, gesturing behind him toward the bathroom. His heart skipped as she stepped further into his room, her eyes widening as they took in the sight of his massive California king bed.

“That bed is huge!” she exclaimed, her surprise turning into a smile, a playful curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“I’m a big guy. I like lots of room,” he teased, winking in that effortless way that always made her pulse race.

She giggled, but before she could respond, he moved toward her, scooping her up into his arms. She shrieked in laughter, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling herself close as her body curled against his.

“Hoseok!” she giggled, her laughter filling the room like music. “What are you doing?”

“Testing out how much room we have,” he quipped, grinning as he carried her toward the bed. He carefully set her down on the soft mattress, her head sinking into the pillow as she giggled, squirming under his playful attack. The sheets were crisp and cool beneath her, and she looked up at him with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“Oh, so this is your big plan? Throw me onto your bed and… what? Have a pillow fight?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Not quite,” Hoseok replied, his grin softening as he settled beside her, keeping a little space between them. Propping his head on his arm, he looked at her, his playful expression turning more tender, more serious. “I thought maybe we could just… talk for a bit.”

Her expression shifted, the laughter in her eyes melting into something warmer. “Talk, huh?” she murmured, her voice softening as she turned to face him, the space between them feeling both wide and intimate all at once.

He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. “Yeah… I want to get to know you more,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Like… what makes you happy. What you dream about. Stuff like that.”

Her heart melted at his words, and she shifted closer, turning onto her side so that they were face to face, sharing the same pillow. Her fingers traced small circles on the sheet between them, her mind racing with thoughts of how rare it was for someone to want to know her in this way.

“Well,” she began, her voice a little shy but honest, “I’m happiest when I’m with the people I care about—my family, my friends. I love little moments, like baking cookies with Tae or playing board games with my students.” She paused, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. “And… I’ve always dreamed of traveling. I want to see places I’ve only read about. Paris, Rome… maybe even Tokyo.”

“Tokyo, huh?” His eyes lit up as he listened, his hand moving to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ve been there a few times for games. You’d love it. The city is electric, so full of life. It’s one of those places where you feel like anything’s possible.”

She smiled at the thought, her heart swelling with how easy it was to imagine herself in a place like that—especially with Hoseok by her side.

“What about you?” she asked, curiosity sparking as she looked at him. “What makes you happy?”

His gaze softened, something tender flashing in his eyes. “Honestly?” he began, his voice quiet. “Moments like this. Where everything feels… simple. No pressure, no expectations. Just… being with someone who gets me.” His thumb brushed along her cheek, and he hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. “And you make me happy. Just being around you.”

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the way his words wrapped around her, filling the quiet space between them. His hand lingered on her cheek, his touch warm, and she leaned into it, savoring the moment, the connection.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them wrapped up in the quiet intimacy. She could feel her heart pounding, the tension between them building with each passing second.

Then, without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, pulling him closer until the space between them disappeared. Their bodies pressed together, the warmth of him surrounding her like a soft blanket.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her gaze lingered on his lips, her own just inches from his. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Hoseok’s eyes darkened, his breath escaping in a soft exhale as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between.

The kiss that followed was slow at first, deliberate. They savored every second, every gentle brush of their lips, as if the world had paused to let them catch their breath. The tenderness lingered—a kiss that drew them deeper, as though nothing else existed beyond that connection. But tenderness has a way of unraveling, and soon desire took over.

Hoseok’s hand slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as if he could meld them together. Y/N’s hands pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. It wasn’t just his heart racing—hers was too. Something raw and wild had ignited between them, like an engine roaring to life, and it was growing.

He shifted, flipping them effortlessly until she was straddling him, their bodies pressing together like they had always belonged this way, like there was never supposed to be any space between them. His hands roamed up her back, fingers sliding beneath her shirt, and Y/N arched into his touch, every nerve in her body coming alive.

She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this—no, needed this. All the tension, the constant teasing, the slow build—it all came rushing to the surface now, and she couldn’t get enough of him. His lips met hers again, but there was nothing soft about it this time. It was desperate, all-consuming. A firestorm. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and Y/N matched his intensity, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling every inch of him beneath his shirt.

Hoseok moved again, laying her back against the bed, positioning himself beside her, his arm holding him up as he gazed down at her. Their legs tangled, and she could feel the warmth of him, the electricity that sparked between them. His hand traced a slow line up her arm, and she instinctively moved closer, pressing her face against his chest, feeling the cool fabric of his shirt against her cheek.

Hoseok’s breath was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something intense beneath the surface. He looked down at her, his eyes soft, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing it tenderly before leaning in to kiss her again. But this time, there was no hesitation. His lips claimed hers with a kind of certainty that sent a jolt through her entire being. This was Hoseok—her Hoseok. The realization wrapped around her heart, pulling her in even deeper.

Her fingers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss growing more passionate with each passing second. Every time their lips parted, they found each other again, more intense, more insistent. Y/N’s breath quickened, her pulse racing, her entire world narrowing down to the feel of him—his scent, his warmth, the way his hands moved over her, like he was never going to let her go.

This is Hoseok, her mind whispered, Hoseok holding me, kissing me... Heat pooled low in her belly, her body responding with an urgency that took her breath away. She was hot and aching, and all she could think about was how much she wanted him—how much she needed him.

But then, something shifted inside her. She found herself pulling back, her mind slipping out of the moment. Her lips stilled, and she buried her face against his chest, her breath catching as she tried to steady herself. Hoseok didn’t let go. He kept his arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, his chin resting gently on the top of her head. For a while, they just lay there, breathing together as the soft patter of rain against the window filled the quiet room.

Hoseok pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a moment. Y/N tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes held a question, one he didn’t need to voice. Do you trust me?

“Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping her before she even realized it. She leaned up, kissing him again, slowly at first, before rolling with him until he was fully over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. The kiss deepened, turning passionate, their lips moving together in a heated rhythm that made her breath hitch.

Hoseok’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck, soft at first, then more demanding as he reached the curve of her throat. His mouth opened, teeth grazing her skin before biting down gently, and Y/N gasped, her body arching beneath him. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands tangling in his hair.

His hands moved with purpose, tracing the curves of her waist, sliding up to cup her breast through her shirt. Y/N’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her body responding to every kiss, every touch. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a delicious thrill through her, and she moaned, her fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Hoseok,” she breathed, her voice thick with longing.

He didn’t stop, his lips moving lower, kissing along her collarbone, down to her stomach as he pushed her shirt up, revealing more of her skin with each kiss. Y/N’s heart pounded, her mind spinning as his touch ignited every inch of her. The air between them buzzed, electric, and all she could think was how much she needed him—how much she wanted him.

And when his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, finding her warm and wet, Y/N’s mind went blank. Her world narrowed down to the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure as his fingers moved over her, teasing, exploring, drawing her higher and higher.

Her breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her hands fisting the sheets as she lost herself to the storm of desire he’d stirred in her. She couldn’t think—only feel, as Hoseok took her further, his mouth and hands working in perfect sync to unravel her completely.

Hoseok’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her, on the way she responded to his touch. His mouth found her neck, lips warm and insistent, kissing and nipping in a way that bordered on torturous. Each kiss was like a spark, igniting something deep inside her, making her legs tremble.

She felt herself teetering on the edge, her body trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. Hoseok’s mouth moved with purpose, and then, with a final flick of his tongue, Y/N’s world shattered. Her body convulsed, pleasure rippling through her in waves, and she cried out, her mind blank, her entire being consumed by the sensation.

“Hoseok!” she screamed, her voice raw, as she came apart beneath him.

The aftershocks left her body trembling, her breath uneven, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally opened her eyes, Hoseok was still there, his lips leaving gentle kisses as if savoring every last bit of her. She reached down, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

“Hoseok…” she whispered, her voice weak, and he looked up, his eyes meeting hers, dark and filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

He moved up, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss, his hand still on her, his fingers stroking her gently. She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath him, the warmth of him filling her.

“No rest?” she murmured against his lips, her voice thick with exhaustion and desire.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes softening. “We’re slowing down,” he promised, his voice a husky whisper. There was something in the way he said it—an intimacy, a reassurance—that made her heart swell. It was a promise, but it was also a temptation, one she wasn’t sure she could resist.

She kissed him again, her lips seeking his in a slow, sensual dance. Hoseok’s fingers continued their gentle exploration, his touch grounding her, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. She didn’t know where this was going, what would happen next, but right now—right here in his arms—it felt like everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

Her hands moved down, brushing against the undone buckle of his belt, her fingers slipping inside and finding him hard, throbbing with anticipation. Wrapping her hand around him, she began to stroke, her movements deliberate, matching the slow, sensual rhythm of his fingers as he moved against her. She could feel him growing even harder beneath her touch, the heat between them building with every second.

Hoseok stilled, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. Together, they moved in a slow, building rhythm, heat flooding through her all over again, setting every inch of her on fire.

And then his pace slowed, the movement growing almost imperceptibly gradual. Y/N opened her eyes, questioning, as Hoseok shifted beneath her. His arm slid under her back with a fluid grace, holding her close as he gave one last deliberate thrust. Then, without a word, he carefully rolled them both until she was on top, straddling him, her legs trembling as she adjusted to the new position.

Y/N hovered above him, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as she lay against his chest. She could feel the tip of him brushing against her, an aching reminder of how full he had made her feel just moments before. Lifting her gaze, her eyes met Hoseok's, and for a moment, they were simply lost in each other. There was an unspoken understanding, a silent agreement forged from shared intensity and want.

It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only this—the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, the rhythmic pulse of their bodies.

Y/N took a deep breath, pushing herself upright, her hands bracing against his chest. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, achingly slow, until she could feel every inch of him stretching her, filling her completely. A groan escaped her lips, her eyelids fluttering shut as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. She stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of him inside her, the way their bodies seemed to mold together perfectly, the way her skin burned from the intimate contact.

Hoseok's hands rested on her hips, his fingers tracing the soft skin there in slow, gentle strokes, guiding without forcing. "Y/N, move with me," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet kind of intensity.

She nodded, her lips parting as she exhaled shakily. She lifted herself just a little before sliding back down, the friction sending a wave of warmth through her, radiating from where they were joined and traveling through her entire body.

"A little more," Hoseok instructed, his voice a low hum, his hands on her hips gently guiding her. She complied, shifting her position until she felt the angle change, the pressure heightening. "Now tilt forward," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She did, and when she lifted herself again, the movement sent shockwaves through her, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. She gasped, her thighs shaking as she sank back down, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Again, Y/N," Hoseok urged, his voice rough with need now, his hands steady on her hips, encouraging but never controlling.

She lifted herself again, her pace picking up, her breath catching in her throat as the friction intensified. Each time she came down onto him, it hit just right, the pressure building inside her like a storm about to break.

"Hoseok," she moaned, her voice raw, her movements becoming more desperate. "I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hands tightening just enough to guide her, to keep her steady. "I'm here. You can."

His words were like fuel to the fire burning inside her, and Y/N couldn't stop now. She couldn't hold back, couldn't control the way her body moved, the rhythm growing faster, more frantic. Hoseok's hips met hers with every movement, the sensation driving her closer to the edge.

"Hoseok," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure grew overwhelming. "I don't know—"

"You can," he repeated, his voice filled with heat but also with a steadiness that anchored her. "I'm right here with you. Take me."

And she did. Y/N let herself go, the rhythm spiraling faster, the friction building to an unbearable peak. She focused on the way it felt—the way his body moved beneath hers, filling her again and again, the way their connection sparked like a live wire. Her cries grew louder, mingling with Hoseok's deep, guttural moans, his name falling from her lips like a desperate prayer as she gave herself over completely to the raw, consuming pleasure.

The pressure inside her finally burst, sending her over the edge, her body convulsing with each wave of release. She collapsed onto Hoseok, her face pressing into the crook of his neck, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.

Hoseok held her close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back, his lips pressing soft kisses to her hair as her body trembled against him. Slowly, gently, he shifted them, rolling onto their sides so she was cradled against him, her legs still tangled with his.

Y/N felt exhaustion wash over her, her eyes heavy, her mind hazy with the aftershocks of what had just happened. She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat—something tender, something achingly real.

Hoseok leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, "You're beautiful, Y/N."

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite put into words. And as sleep began to pull her under, the last thing she felt was Hoseok's heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and comforting, lulling her into the quiet darkness.

Hoseok and Y/N found themselves wandering the brightly lit aisles of a 24-hour Christmas shop at two in the morning, after indulging in a couple more rounds of "naked fun time" and catching a nap. Now, they were doing something a little more wholesome—shopping for a Christmas tree. The soft glow of twinkling lights and the faint hum of Christmas music set the mood, but the intimacy between them lingered, electric and unmistakable.

"What did I tell you about shoving that tongue of yours in my mouth, baby?" Hoseok teased, his hand wrapped warmly around hers as they strolled side by side. His voice was playful, but the undercurrent of attraction that simmered between them hadn’t dissipated from earlier.

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, feigning innocence as she inspected an eight-foot artificial tree in front of her. It was lush, full, and pre-lit—perfect for his apartment. But the price tag gave her pause. "Hoseok, we’re in public. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile," she replied, her lips quirking into a smirk. "I’m not going to shove my tongue down your throat, no matter how hot you look right now."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart skip a beat. "It’s two in the morning," he countered, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. "The only people here are two cashiers who aren’t paying attention, and that guy over there who looks like he’s about to have a mental breakdown over the stocking selection."

Y/N slapped his hand playfully as it ventured toward her butt, but couldn’t help laughing herself. Hoseok always had a way of making everything fun. "Behave," she teased, trying to regain some control. "Let’s just get the tree and grab something to eat. If you’re a good boy," she added, her voice dropping suggestively, "maybe I’ll reward you when we get back to your place. But right now, my kitty is a little sore."

Immediately, the playful grin on Hoseok’s face softened into concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes darting down to her lower half as if he could somehow diagnose her pain through her clothes.

Y/N giggled, touched by his genuine worry. "I’m fine," she assured him, brushing a hand over his chest. "I just need a little break before that big boy of yours comes back to play."

Relief washed over his features, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. "Then let’s get this tree," he said, his voice back to its playful cadence as he grabbed the massive $400 pre-lit tree without hesitation and dropped it into their cart. Y/N’s eyes widened at the ease with which he tossed the tree around like it weighed nothing. She reminded herself that Hoseok’s salary as a professional quarterback meant this was pocket change to him.

They continued through the store, picking out ornaments, stockings, and other holiday decorations to transform Hoseok’s apartment into a Christmas wonderland. As they turned down another aisle, Hoseok spotted a giant blow-up Rudolph tucked away in a corner, probably set aside by another shopper. But Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the blow-up with a triumphant grin.

"Think Arabella will like this?" he asked, holding it up for Y/N’s inspection.

"She’s going to love it!" Y/N squealed, doing a little happy dance in the aisle. "It’ll look perfect next to her Santa."

They made their way toward the checkout, their cart brimming with holiday cheer. Just as they approached the register, a young employee walked up to them, his eyes wide with disbelief as he recognized Hoseok.

"Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung," the kid—Fraser—breathed, looking like he was about to faint from excitement.

Hoseok smiled warmly, always gracious with fans. "Hey, Fraser," he greeted. "Can we keep this low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop without causing a scene."

Fraser nodded eagerly, his awe palpable. "No problem, man. But my dad is a huge fan—he’s never going to believe I met you."

Without missing a beat, Y/N stepped in with a solution. "Why don’t you FaceTime him? Hoseok can say hi. Consider it an early Christmas present."

Fraser’s face lit up, and a moment later, he was dialing his dad on video. Hoseok chatted with the man for a few minutes, making his night, while Y/N watched with a smile, admiring how effortlessly charming he was with everyone. By the time they left the store, Fraser had applied his employee discount, and they left with their cartful of holiday magic.

Back at Hoseok’s sleek, modern apartment, they set up the tree and decorated it with the ornaments they had bought. The space soon took on a warm, festive glow as they adorned every inch with twinkling lights and garland. Y/N was sore, her body reminding her of their earlier escapades, so she popped a couple of Advil and leaned into the cozy domesticity of the moment. They scrambled eggs and made toast in the kitchen afterward, sharing quiet, comfortable laughter while Hoseok, in nothing but sweatpants, danced around the room like a man without a care in the world.

After their impromptu breakfast, they decided to take a long soak in Hoseok’s luxurious jetted tub. The hot water soothed Y/N’s aching muscles, and she leaned back, watching the steam rise as she sipped a glass of wine. Hoseok was beside her, his arm resting casually along the edge of the tub, and they talked quietly, the sound of the water bubbling around them.

"This bathroom is a whole spa," Y/N sighed contentedly. "I could live here."

"Good," Hoseok teased, "because you’re not allowed to leave."

They shared a soft laugh before falling into a companionable silence, the kind that comes when two people are perfectly in sync. Y/N closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the water and the presence of the man beside her. She hadn’t realized how deeply she was falling for him, but it was moments like these—simple, quiet, intimate—that made her heart swell.

Later, feeling completely relaxed and refreshed, Y/N found herself back in Hoseok’s bedroom. She playfully pushed him onto the bed, his towel falling away as she crawled over him. The night had been a blur of laughter, shared glances, and stolen kisses, but now there was a different energy between them—one that simmered with anticipation. She kissed him deeply, her hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

Hoseok’s hands found their way to her hips, gripping her gently as she straddled him, her body moving in perfect sync with his. They had started the night in celebration, but as their lips met again and again, it became clear that they weren’t quite finished celebrating. Their connection deepened, and before long, Y/N had lost count of the number of times Hoseok had brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

As they lay tangled in the sheets afterward, Y/N rested her head on Hoseok’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this content, this safe, this utterly fulfilled. She glanced up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at her with a smile that was equal parts satisfaction and affection.

"Do you think Arabella will notice if we sleep all day tomorrow?" Y/N whispered with a playful grin.

Hoseok laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. "I think she’ll notice, but maybe I can bribe her with that giant Rudolph."

Y/N giggled, snuggling closer to him. "Best bribe ever."

They drifted off to sleep, the glow of the Christmas tree casting a soft light over the room, the warmth of their shared moments wrapping around them like a blanket.

Christmas morning dawned with a soft blanket of snow covering the streets, casting everything in a serene, white glow. Y/N pulled on her favorite holiday pajamas—flannel with tiny reindeer printed all over them—and headed downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Hoseok was already up, standing by the stove, looking impossibly handsome even in the early morning light. He wore a red sweater with a goofy snowman on it, his hair still a bit tousled from sleep.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he greeted her, his voice warm and affectionate as he turned away from the stove to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Merry Christmas," Y/N murmured, leaning into him for a moment before glancing at the counter, where several plates of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs were laid out. "You made all this?"

"I figured I’d spoil you a little this morning," Hoseok said with a grin, flipping a pancake effortlessly in the air. "But don’t get used to it—this is a special occasion."

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as he cooked. She loved moments like this, where everything felt simple and perfect. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

After breakfast, they exchanged their first Christmas presents together. Y/N, trying not to look too giddy, handed Hoseok a neatly wrapped box. He eyed it curiously before tearing off the paper to reveal a chunky knit sweater, soft and charcoal gray.

"I noticed you didn’t have any sweaters that weren’t Christmas-themed," Y/N teased, watching his expression as he held the sweater up for inspection. "Figured you needed one for, you know, normal winter days."

Hoseok grinned, running his fingers over the fabric. "I love it," he said, immediately pulling it over his head, the sweater fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculously good, as usual," Y/N said, laughing as he struck a pose, exaggerating his movements like a runway model. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied, leaning in to kiss her softly. Then, with a mischievous smile, he handed her a wrapped box of his own. "Your turn."

Y/N unwrapped it carefully, the paper revealing a set of beautifully arranged classroom supplies—new whiteboards, markers, and a sleek, high-quality planner. She looked up at Hoseok, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gift. "You… you remembered I needed these?"

"Of course I did," Hoseok said, his smile softening. "You mentioned it once, a few weeks ago, about how some of your supplies were old or worn out. I figured your students deserve the best, and so do you."

Y/N felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. It was such a small thing, but the fact that he’d remembered and gone out of his way to get her something so practical, something that would make her job easier, made her feel incredibly loved. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Hey, I just want to make sure you’re ready to shape young minds," Hoseok teased, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

By mid-morning, they were bundled up and heading over to Ji-woo’s house for the family Christmas party. Hoseok carried a bag full of presents for his niece and nephew while Y/N held a tray of cookies she’d baked the night before.

Ji-woo’s house was buzzing with life when they arrived. The sound of children laughing, holiday music playing, and the smell of roasting turkey greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. Arabella came running up to Hoseok, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Uncle Hobi!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his waist. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Arabella," Hoseok said, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled. "I’ve got a surprise for you!"

Arabella’s eyes widened with excitement as Hoseok set her down and pulled out the giant inflatable Rudolph from the bag. Her squeals of delight filled the room as she hugged the blow-up reindeer tightly.

"I knew it! I knew you’d bring Rudolph!" she beamed, her joy infectious.

In the living room, Ji-woo was busy setting up the table, her smile bright and welcoming. "Merry Christmas, you two!" she called out, walking over to hug them both. "You’re just in time. Maxwell’s been asking when Uncle Hobi’s going to get here so he can open his gifts."

"And I brought something extra this year," Y/N said with a grin, handing over the tray of cookies. "Hope the kids like them."

"I’m sure they will," Ji-woo laughed, taking the cookies and placing them on the table beside an array of other desserts.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of laughter, food, and family. Taehyung and Jungkook arrived soon after, arms full of more gifts and treats. Namjoon showed up in his full police uniform, fresh from his morning shift, with his usual calm smile and a bag of baked goods he claimed were homemade (but Y/N knew they were store-bought).

After opening presents, everyone settled around the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate while Maxwell and Arabella played with their new toys. Y/N sat beside Hoseok on the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder, feeling completely content. The warmth of the fire, the sound of everyone laughing and talking, the smell of pine from the Christmas tree—it was everything she could’ve asked for.

Hoseok wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "This is nice," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N murmured, closing her eyes and letting the moment wash over her.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the simplicity of the holiday, surrounded by the people they cared about most. And as the snow continued to fall softly outside, Y/N couldn’t help but think that this was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like—full of love, laughter, and the quiet moments that made everything else seem perfect.

As the day wound down, and the fire began to flicker low, Hoseok leaned over and kissed Y/N’s temple, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being here with me."

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest like a warm blanket. "I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

© chimcess, 2024. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Fic Titles: Song Edition

Part I

Softly we tremble tonight - Cat and Mouse, The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus

We're so happy (we could die) - Blood & Glitter, Lord of the Lost

There′s no remedy for memory - Dark Paradise, Lana del Rey

Love is the warmest colour - Nara, alt-J

We gotta stop pretending who we are - Don't speak, No Doubt

A force more powerful than gravity - Satellite, Lena Meyer-Landrut

They turned to dust (all that I adored) - Things we lost in the fire, Bastille

Lose all sense of time - Coastline, Hollow Caves

Sometimes quiet is violent - Car Radio, Twenty One Pilots

I′ll show you mine (if you show me yours first) - Swing Life Away, Rise Against

So beautiful and wild - Tonight, Reamonn

See your face lit by starlight - Colorado Sunrise, 3OH!3

Misunderstandings and words unspoken - Don't waste my time, Victor Lundberg

When we stole the night - Another heart calls, The All-American Rejects

The way that we love (like it's forever) - Happy Ending, Mika

But it's home to me - Boulevard of Broken Dreams, Green Day

Like memories of dying days - Savior, Rise Against

Electricity between both of us - Landfill, Daughter

I slept in last night's clothes and tomorrow′s dreams - Uma Thurman, Fall Out Boy

There'll be a riot (cause I know you) - Robbers, The 1975

All of your flaws and all of my flaws - Flaws, Bastille

Crossing all the lines - Girls Like Girls, Hayley Kiyoko

Misery's your master - She's the blade, Sugarcult

But we go where we want to - Lane Boy, Twenty One Pilots

Between the lines of fear and blame - How to save a life, The Fray

There's a heavy cloud inside my head - Lemon Tree, Fool's Garden

A very common crisis - Fluorescent Adolescent, Arctic Monkeys

Turn the light out, say goodnight - Fake Empire, The National

Let′s write a song that we can dance to - Jersey, Mayday Parade

There′s strangers everywhere - This isn't everything you are, Snow Patrol

More titles!

[sundrop-writes]

Your First Kiss With Jason Todd

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

Jason always thought he hated you. He did hate you.

Until he didn't.

Until his love for you ruined him in ways he couldn't even imagine.

Jason Todd x Gender Neutral Reader. Frenemies to Lovers. Pure Angst (Hurt, No Comfort). Set during Season 3.

Word Count: 8,200

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: This fic is almost entirely angst - hurt, no comfort. This fic does not have a happy ending!!! So be warned of that before you enter here. Jason and the reader are described as ‘hating’ each other, but they are more like frenemies/annoyances - they have a playful banter (at the time, even they don’t know that they like arguing because it’s sexual tension and passion for each other); the reader is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; this is mostly written from Jason’s POV (which is where most of the angst comes from); Jason describes himself as a ‘zombie’ or ‘half-alive’ - but he is fully alive and has all of his mental faculties, he is just freaked out about the fact that he was resurrected; the reader does not have any meta powers, but is described as being very good at combat (this does not denote the reader’s body type); mentions of sex and some sexual themes - but there is no outright smut and no detailed descriptions of sex; mentions of negative stereotypes surrounding frat boys/frat houses - including STDs and group sex (mentioned in a negative light); mentions of Jason masturbating (and thinking about the reader while doing it); mentions of Jason’s canon trauma (being kidnapped and tortured by Deathstroke, dropped off the building); mentions of Jason being killed by the Joker (and being ressurected by Crane); mentions of the reader mourning Jason’s death; mentions of drugs and drug addiction (based around the canon storyline of the anti-fear gas); mentions of Jason’s trauma surround his mother’s drug addiction; mentions of Jason killing Hank (as in the canon); the reader is kidnapped (by Crane or someone who works for Crane) and held hostage, and later rescued by Jason; somewhat graphic descriptions of violence (Jason beating up Crane, other background instances), gory descriptions of a death toward the end (mentions of acid burns and choking on non-breathable air); major character death - the reader character does die. Like I said - no happy ending. Sorry not sorry.

A/N: This is set during Season 3 - and this does feature spoilers for Season 3 if you haven't seen Titans before. So if you wanna watch the show spoiler free, definitely avoid this fic. I was imagining this to be set around episode 6 or episode 7, before Crane's plan to use the ice cream factory is taken down by the Titans, but obviously Jason breaking away from Crane's control so early goes against the canon - so there's that. Also, if you wanna pair some music with this for something truly heartbreaking, I would highly recommend the classic Running Up That Hill by Kate Bush, or the highly underrated Colorado Sunrise by 3OH!3 (the lyrics are way more depressing than people realize, and I love it as a whump song. oomf). I also feel like the song Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny would go so well with this fic, but in like - the most devastating way. I haven't written something this cruel since I wrote Ghosting and I had so much fun doing it. You can't leave me alone with whump for too long, I turn into a monster. I need to go back to smut again quickly lmao.

...

Jason Todd was in love with you. 

It was something that he hated himself for. Actually, it was one of the most infuriating, devastating facts in the world. But it was true. You were someone who was so entirely amazing. You were beautiful - literally the hottest person Jason had ever met who wasn’t photoshopped or catered to be some unrealistic daydream. You were clever and smart and strong. You could kick anybody’s ass on any day of the week and still have enough energy left to tell them how much of an idiot they were and list all of the reasons why. 

And you would definitely never love Jason back. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he could ever have someone like you. 

So he kept all of that stupid, idiotic love to himself. It was a secret that he had sworn to die with - and technically, he already had. 

Jason tried not to linger on the very fucked up, seemingly impossible fact that he had come back from the dead. And now he was existing as some weird, fucked up zombie thing - resurrected from having his skull caved in by the Joker to do Jonathan Crane’s bidding. This definitely wasn’t what Jason would have wanted out of a renewed life - but hey: when an Arkham prisoner gives you rotten lemons. 

When Jason wasn’t beating down drug dealers, stealing money, or strapping bombs to people - when he was trying his hardest not to focus on the fact that he had died and he was now living some strange half-life, reliant on Crane’s drugs, he was thinking about you. He thought about you a lot. 

He hadn’t come into contact with you since his strange foray back into the land of the living. That was probably for the best. He knew that you had freshly come back to Gotham, upon Dick’s request. Nightwing had called for backup from all the ex-Titans to help end Red Hood’s reign of terror. Jason wanted to stay as far away from you as possible. 

Genuinely, he didn’t want you getting caught in the crossfire of whatever Crane was planning. He wished you had stayed out of Gotham, but he knew that you were too loyal, too good not to come to the aid of the Titans when they needed you. He couldn’t reveal himself to you just for a taste of nostalgia - one last argument before you sold him down the river for good. But fuck - he thought about you a lot. 

When the two of you had first met, you were the last person he ever thought that he would surrender that stupid, soft label of love to. Even months into first knowing you - he would have said that he hated you. He would have told anybody that he found you to be the most annoying person on earth. 

Your relationship used to be the worst kind of dance. 

Every single time that Jason opened his mouth, you said something to contradict him. To a point, he believed that you didn’t even fully stand behind the things you said - you just enjoyed arguing against him. That you did it for sport. You used every single last bit of your time and energy to get under his skin. From mocking him to calling him a fuckboy to prodding at his grammar, poking holes in his points by smugly correcting him. He always found you to be the most infuriating person in any room. But it seemed that the more frustrated he got with you, the more cool headed you remained. 

He tried to mock you back, and you shrugged it off. Every time he became visibly annoyed in your presence - you giggled. He wanted to strangle you. 

And it was one fated day that he realized the line between heat fueled by frustration and heat fueled by lust truly weren’t that different. 

… 

“Jason! I thought I smelled you coming down the hall!” 

Jason groaned when he heard you make this comment. 

He thought that for once, he could have some peace to train alone - but it appeared that he would have no such luck. You were already in the training room, holding a long bo-staff as you ran some drills. Apparently, you were eager to exercise your mouth too - already whipping off clever insults the minute that Jason entered the room. 

When all he could muster was a glare in your direction, you let out a giggle. His blood boiled. 

“Between that god awful Axe body wash and that alcohol based aftershave that you like to drown yourself in, you smell like a walking frat house.” You continued, blabbering on even though Jason had made no efforts to engage you. At least not yet. “Just throw in some Busch Light and weed, and I might be able to catch gonorrhea just from the stench.” 

That was the nerve that hooked Jason into the conversation. First of all - he smelled fucking delightful. He always made hygiene one of his personal priorities. He was absolutely not one of those guys with crusty, sweaty balls. And second of all - he was not one of those STD spreading manwhores. He was clean in all senses. He always used a condom. 

“Sounds like you’ve got experience with that.” Jason quipped back. 

He looked to you for some kind of reaction, some inkling that he had gotten under your skin even a fraction of the way that you did his. His movements were rough with annoyance as he began wrapping his knuckles with tape so he could have a few rounds with the heavy bag - mostly out of a need to pound out his frustration on something. He was getting too angered with your presence in the room and not wanting to snap and take it out on you. (He already had enough on his record with Bruce, and despite popular opinion - he was trying to improve.) 

When you weren’t quick to respond, Jason continued. 

“You used to letting frat boys all over you? You seem like the type of person who would enjoy a good, sloppy frat house train. Twenty guys, one after the other, none of them knowing your name, just because you’re so needy for a good fuck.” 

Jason grinned, feeling like he had won this conversation with the essence of shock alone. 

But no. As always, you remained cool. You grinned right back at him, stepping toward him, crowding into his personal space as you said your next words in a low, smooth voice. 

“Sounds like you spend an awful lot of time picturing me running a train.” You smirked. “Is that why you’re always so late getting up in the morning? You wake up and the first thing you do is get a hand on your dick, imagining me getting fucked by a lineup of guys? Probably just wishing that one of them was you.” 

Jason’s face fell flat. 

You were so strikingly confident in your words that it made his stomach twist. Facing him down, speaking such filthy words without flinching - embarrassment and heat collided inside of him. Even more so with what you did next. 

You put a hand out in front of your crotch, mimicking the motions of jacking off while you mocked him in a broken voice. 

“Oh, oh fuck Y/N! Come on! Take my sloppy, frat house cock!” 

You then mocked a whiny series of moans that must have been Jason’s fake orgasm - and while Jason’s insides bubbled with a confusing heat, you quickly dissolved off into laughter. 

“Shut up.” Jason snapped, forcing his eyes down to focus on the process of taping himself up - praying that you wouldn’t see the heat that had spread across his cheeks. “You’re the fucking worst.” 

“Only when I’m with you.” You replied, blowing him a kiss - to which he stuck his middle finger up at you. 

He was eternally thankful when you went back to your own training in silence, only taking occasional glances up in his direction. 

… 

After that point, Jason had to admit to himself that he was attracted to you, at the very least. He could no longer deny that you were insanely attractive; you were a very, very hot person. And somehow, even past your annoying habits, he was being drawn into the orbit of your gorgeous looks and your wonderfully cocky, filthy mouth. 

But he still hated you. He definitely still hated you. 

He hated it even more when you became right - and you did become the object of some of his more heated fantasies. He became downright annoyed at the times he had his hand around his cock and imagined himself hate fucking you - imagined forcing every cocky retort out of your mouth, imagining you breathless and needy beneath him, begging for more with every hard push of his hips. 

He hated how everything changed after Doctor Light. 

Jason wasn’t thinking about your stupid beautiful cocky mouth after that. His mind was full of glass and he was being shredded from the inside out. He came home broken. After everything that happened with Deathstroke and Doctor Light - he was some fragile bird; some chewed up, used, pitiful thing. He didn’t have the energy to fight you anymore, not even for sport. 

So after he was rescued, still floating in numbness, he didn’t know what to do when you burst into his room unannounced. You practically shoved the door off its hinges, and stormed across the room toward him - tears hot in your eyes. You pounded curled fists against his chest, screaming at the top of your lungs. Half of your words were static in his ears, but the tone of your voice pierced through his heart like an arrow. You called him stupid, asking where in his empty head he had gotten the idea to go off by himself. 

Jason didn’t have it in him to fight you. So he broke down. 

He felt like the world’s biggest idiot for crying in front of you. But his throat was tight and he choked on the tears - he was too tired. He just couldn’t hold them back. He screamed back, and asked you to lay off. To get off his fucking back. 

You looked shocked. Like you had swallowed a piece of glass. 

You surprised him when you uncurled your fists and wrapped the most tender, gentle hands around his back, and for the first time since he had known you - you embraced him in a hug. He was weak and he needed it more than he was willing to admit, so he let you. He sobbed against your neck, his own cries too loud that he missed the timid sound of your apology. 

That wasn’t the only time you surprised him that week. 

He knew it was because he was some broken little bird, but you started taking care of him. You brought him plates of food without being asked, and when he attempted to shove them away - you refused. You told him to eat before you had to ‘shove it down his fucking throat’. 

You didn’t mock him. You didn’t correct him. And you surprised him even more when you turned the sharpness of your tongue on the others when they tried attacking Jason. They accused him of planting booze in Hank’s room or drawing crosses on Rachel’s mirror to fuck with her, among other things. And you popped veins in your neck going on a winding rant about how stupid and baseless their accusations were. 

Jason wasn’t sure if you knew it, but you jumping to his defense wrapped him in a blanket of protection that he had never before felt. It was so entirely strange, but welcomed coming from you. Especially because he knew that it was genuine. He knew that you didn’t have any ulterior motives for doing this - for some reason, you just wanted to help him. 

When you extended an invitation toward him to come with you as the group dispersed, torn apart by Dick’s nasty, festering secret - Jason felt welcomed by you. He knew that the dynamic between the two of you was changing at a breakneck speed, and he had to embrace it. He found himself eager to follow the weird, newly developing kinship that he had with you rather than wanting to stay in the empty coldness of the Tower with a brooding Dick. 

From there, it was really difficult for Jason to pin down the exact moment that his feelings transitioned toward you from casual lust to something more. He couldn’t tell exactly when it turned into that panic-inducing, ‘oh my god, I’m fucked’ feeling of being in love. After leaving San Francisco, during the entirety of the time that the two of you were in Gotham together, your relationship remained completely platonic. 

It was a few short weeks spent kicking ass as the best vigilante duo the city had ever seen, but there wasn’t a single moment Jason could point to where the two of you lit up with that romantic spark. It wasn’t some romcom bullshit come to life. It was just the two of you being friendly for once. The two of you helping each other survive. 

Back then - Jason wanted you, badly. Even if he didn’t know just how badly, he wasn’t going to fuck up the whole dynamic just to get laid. He felt safe with you. He kicked ass with you. He was good with you. And during that short time - he was happy. So he wasn’t going to do anything to risk that happiness. Happiness was too rare for him. So why the hell would he try putting the moves on you, scare you away, and fuck it all up? 

… 

A little slice of that happiness came in the form of Hal’s Diner. It was a place in downtown Gotham, open twenty four hours, and you and Jason had gotten into the habit of stopping there after your patrols. 

The two of you would kick some ass - break the legs of some drug dealers, make sure that women got home safe if they were walking late at night, keep the streets a little safer. And then you would change out of your patrol outfits and head to the diner, just as the sun was rising over the scummy streets of Gotham. You would get breakfast and Jason would get dinner. He would steal one of your eggs and you would take half his burger, and you would always comment about him putting way too much ketchup on his plate. 

It was harmony. 

“You know, every time I see you make a grown man cry, it brings me such intense joy.” Jason grinned as he said this, reminiscing about a beautiful moment from earlier in the night. 

He spoke about it in the same manner that someone might reminisce about seeing a relative or a cute puppy. But this was natural for the two of you - since you had taken up vigilantism as a duo, violence was a sweet art for the two of you. 

“Well, if he would have left that girl alone the first time I asked, I wouldn’t have broken his arm.” You shrugged, speaking very casually about it yourself. 

You then picked a piece of bacon up off your plate and took a bite, grinning at Jason fondly. You did appreciate it when he complimented your skills. 

Jason chuckled. 

“You know, it is nice to see you using your powers for good instead of evil.” He commented. 

“My powers?” You parroted back, your mouth half busy with chewing, your words slightly muffled. 

You didn’t have any metahuman powers, so this comment did leave you slightly confused. 

“Yeah.” He nodded, entirely confident in the statement he had to follow. “Your endless amount of energy to harass people and be endlessly annoying. The powers you used to spend all your time using on me.” 

“You used to deserve it.” You were quick with your tongue as usual, not missing a beat with this statement. 

Jason’s only rebuttal was to pick up a french fry - one not doused in ketchup - and throw it at your head. You flinched slightly when it bounced off your forehead - but when it landed in your lap, you easily picked it up and put it in your mouth, not thinking twice about doing so as you tossed Jason a wicked grin. 

That. That must have been the moment. 

That was the moment he realized that he was truly in love with you. You grinning at him from across the table, your smile lighting up your whole face, playing around with him like he actually made you happy. Like he could spend the rest of his life making you happy. 

That’s why it hurt so much more when your phone buzzed on the table a few minutes later. When you told him that it was the Titans - Gar in trouble. That’s why it hurt so fucking much when you left. 

Jason knew, in hindsight, that he should have gone with you. But he flailed like a rabbit caught in a snare, and rather than just agreeing with you, he felt the trap tightening around him, and he opted to chew off his own foot rather than simply letting you help him free. 

He stupidly argued that it was some test from Dick. That the Titans could deal with their own problems. Jason knew that deep down, he was still tender from everything that had happened - Dick dropping him, even by accident. The accusations, the secrets. The rejection. He felt like he was laying down a line - he was letting you make a choice. 

Him or the Titans. 

But it shouldn’t have been a choice. It was Gar. Jason should have stood by his friend. He should have gone with you. 

Deep down, Jason feared that if he did go with you - the Titans wouldn’t want him back. He feared another cutting rejection. They would simply bench him again, they wouldn’t even need him to help save Gar. They wouldn’t want him to help. He was useless, after all. He was careless and stupid. That was why he needed you to choose him. To stay. 

That was what his mind was screaming out as you looked at him, disappointment flooding your eyes as you questioned him about Gar, about going back to the Titans. 

Stay. He silently begged. Pick me. 

And watching you snatch up your jacket in a huff and get up from the table, your food barely touched - his eyes boring into your back as you retreated - it was like having his heart carved out of his chest. And because he was so fucked up, he just sat there. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it. He didn’t chase you. 

He let you go. 

Having you suddenly disappear from his life was like missing a limb. Jason was constantly aching around your non-presence, constantly missing you. He felt torn up from the inside out, wondering if his frayed nerve endings would ever heal themselves. When he went to Donna’s funeral, he stared at you from across the tarmac - telling himself that if you even so much as glanced in his direction, he would cross that sickly one hundred foot black sea and talk to you. He would make the leap and apologize. 

But you were fettered and stubborn and you kept your head straight. You knew it was the ultimate punishment not to acknowledge him. So the moment that the plane took off, Jason shoved on his helmet and sped off on his bike.

He easily became numb after that. 

He went back to Bruce - to lay low and lick his wounds, or because it was the only place he knew, he wasn’t sure. He tried to be a Robin that wasn’t with you. It didn’t work. He felt more broken than ever. It was cheesy, pathetic bullshit - but he talked about you in therapy. Leslie encouraged him to reach out to you, but every time Jason’s fingers hovered over your contact in his phone, his hands shook, and all he remembered was the look of pure scorn you had given him before you snatched up your things and left the diner that day. 

He thought of you as he suited up to go after the Joker. He considered how easy it would be for the two of you to take down the stupid clown together - how flawlessly the two of you worked as a team. 

Jason thought of you as he drew his last breath, soaked in blood and struggling past the world-ending pain. He wondered, in a haze, if you were warm in your bed in The Tower while he was pressed into the cold ground, taunted by the laughter that rung in his ears. 

… 

Jason didn’t know how hard you cried for him when you heard the news of his death. 

You wouldn’t have dared to say that the hole in the middle of your chest was caused by love - caused by the heartbreak of a lover being stolen. But you certainly felt robbed when you heard that the Joker had killed him. You seethed and you heavily considered marching toward Gotham to seek revenge. 

You knew that Dick was angry with Bruce for finally giving in to what the Joker wanted and killing him. For finally ending their sick, twisted game. But when you found out - you were glad that the clown was dead. You wrapped one of Jason’s stolen shirts around your pillow, and you slept a bit easier at night. 

…

Jason knew that he should have left town. 

Crane claimed that Red Hood was going to be the next Batman - that he was going to be something the Bat never could. That he was going to actually keep the streets safe. But so far, all Jason had done was steal, kill, terrorize, torture. Crane spoke of omelets and breaking eggs - pigs and bacon, and ‘marketing’ himself to the public. But truly, it never made any real sense to Jason. 

Jason knew that now, he was the type of man lurking in the night whose arm you would have broken if he was lingering too closely to the vulnerable. And you would have been right for doing so. 

Jason was tired. He felt lost - directionless. He was getting tired of Crane’s bullshit. He missed you. But he knew that he couldn’t just go running back to you. You likely wouldn’t have accepted him back into your life if he did. 

When Crane called him in that night, wanting to discuss ‘the game plan’ - Jason was worn. His patience for all of it was already wearing thin, and what happened next - it truly caused him to snap. 

Jason showed up in full gear, wearing the costume of an alias he no longer believed in; foolishly dressed up as someone he had truly begun to resent. He was holding his helmet in hand, his heavy boots clunking on the floor as he dodged around Crane’s egghead lackeys - a random group of people who were working to convert the anti-fear gas into a larger batch. He knew that they were aiming to get more and more people in the city hooked; if Jason hadn’t abandoned his morals in this new life, he might have cared more about the consequences. 

Instead, he made a B-line for Crane, who was typing away at something on the computer. 

“Jason, my boy!” Crane grinned at him, giving a false, performative grin over his shoulder. “Lovely evening, isn’t it?” 

“What do you want?” Jason asked, his tone flat. 

He was far too tired of Crane to engage in more word play or stupid riddles. 

“Never one for pleasantries, are you?” Crane chuckled. 

Jason didn’t offer him a reply - seemingly confirming his theory with this simple act. 

Truthfully, he wasn’t. He wasn’t feeling very pleasant today. He hadn’t felt very pleasant any day since he had been so rudely pulled from the morgue and zombified to do someone else’s bidding against his will. Being an undead puppet didn’t really make a person all that pleasant. 

Crane reached into the pocket of his oddly quaint grandpa sweater and pulled something out - a small glass vial, containing some clear liquid. It looked harmless - like water. But Jason knew Crane, and he knew that whatever it was must have been entirely dangerous if Crane was carrying around such a small dose of it. 

“Do you know what this is?” He asked, giving the vial a small shake, jostling the liquid inside to emphasize his point. 

Jason hesitated before he shook his head in the negative. He hated to appear clueless and stupid around such an intelligent man, but he didn’t want to guess and be wrong. He knew that being misinformed around Crane was dangerous. But being cocky and pretending to know more than Crane was even more dangerous. 

“This is a very highly concentrated form of liquid Methadone.” Crane explained. “It’s a highly addictive substance. And I think it’s going to give the mass market version of your formula that little extra kick that it needs, ya know? Keep the people coming back for more!” 

He let out a bright chuckle, as though he was talking about a cleaning product that was marketed on an infomercial or some kind of great recipe for soup. That was one of the things that scared Jason the most about Crane - his ability to talk about life changing, deadly things with such jarring enthusiasm. He truly thought of bringing people their worst nightmares and their most painful deaths as ‘beautiful work’. 

“What about it?” Jason prodded quietly. 

He knew that Crane hadn’t called him here just to brag about a new idea to add something to the formula. He needed Jason for something. 

Jason just hoped that he wasn’t looking to use him as a guinea pig again. He would likely rather die again than go down the path of heavy drugs. One thing he had vowed - he wouldn’t end up like his mother. 

“Well, you see, my boy, that’s where you come in.” Crane grinned at him. “Due to its highly addictive qualities, Methadone is also a highly regulated substance. But because I am the wonderfully well-connected man that I am, I happen to know that there is a very large stash of it just sitting there, ripe for the taking, in this quaint little building uptown.” 

Jason’s gut stirred with suspicion. 

“Where uptown?” He asked. 

“Well, it’s just-” Crane stuttered, and then sighed, deciding to get it out and over with. “The Wayne Memorial Cancer Research Facility.” 

Jason glared at him. 

“But see, it’s fine! Because I happen to know someone who knows their way around the Wayne Tech security systems very well. So Red Hood breaks in there, gets me my-” 

“No.” Jason said flatly, before he turned and started to walk away. “Find somebody else. We’re done.” 

Crane had threatened to replace him before. Crane had no-so-subtly threatened to kill him alongside being replaced. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Jason would be better off dead. Maybe Crane would find out that Jason was irreplaceable after all. Maybe Jason was a dirty, seedy criminal shaped by life for only one thing: ruining the lives of others. If Jason couldn’t do that, he wasn’t sure what he would do. 

But he wasn’t going to fucking do this. 

Killing was one thing. Stealing from drug dealers and mobsters was another. What he had done to Hank had crossed too many lines - but it didn’t even begin to approach the lines that this crossed. 

Stealing from a facility that Thomas and Martha had set up when Bruce was just a child, shitting all over their legacy, using skills that Bruce had taught him in order to do it? That was too far. Jason couldn’t say that he had morals anymore, but he still had that voice of common decency in the back of his head yelling at him to stop it. Maybe it was your voice, correcting him at every turn the way you used to. 

He should listen to that voice. 

He should leave town. 

“Hold on, hold on there, Jaybird!” Crane called after him. 

The pure annoyance that the nickname caused was the only thing that stopped Jason. He considered turning around and shooting Crane just to shut him up. 

“See, I think you forget how this works.” The man went off again - talking in that humming tone he always used that made Jason’s ears numb, made his brain switch off. “Every loyal dog gets a treat. A little motivation to get that Pavlovian mind barking in the right direction.” 

Jason turned back around then. 

“Nothing you say ever makes any fucking sense.” He barked out, ready to leave Crane with these as his last remarks before he left Gotham forever. 

But then Crane tapped at a few things on his keyboard and pulled something up on the monitor - a dark, grainy video feed that had Jason squinting his eyes and walking closer to get a better look. 

When Jason was able to truly take in the scene - his stomach dropped. 

It was you. 

You were sitting alone in some anonymous, concrete warehouse - probably in the industrial district of Gotham, if Jason had to guess. Crane didn’t like to keep his insurance policies too far away, he liked to play it close to the vest. You were tied to a chair, duct tape tight over your mouth, very much there against your will. You were looking straight ahead, with the camera angled down from the top corner of the room. Even through the grainy, black and white footage, Jason could see the wetness of tears streaking down your face. 

You were terrified. 

Jason’s helmet clattered to the floor, slipping from his grip as the shock overtook his system. 

For the first time in weeks, fighting through the numbness of the drugs and the hazy shock of his new half-life - he was terrified too. Then he was angry. Rage bubbled up inside of him like a sharp, acidic bile. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Jason growled out, the anger setting his jaw so tight that the words could barely escape between his teeth. 

“I told you - every loyal dog gets a treat.” Crane said, a barely contained glee filtering through his voice as he peered over Jason’s shoulder at your weeping face on the screen. 

He clapped a large hand on Jason’s shoulder, and Jason felt himself nearly choke on his own tongue - so swollen with anger that it barely fit in his mouth. 

“So, go fetch, doggie.” Crane continued. “Go get me what I need. Otherwise, that sweet little treat of yours is gonna play dead.” 

Crane leaned over and whispered those last words into Jason’s ear - and that was what truly caused him to snap. 

In a flash, Jason grabbed the hand that was on his shoulder, whipped Crane around - there was a loud crack as Jason broke Crane’s arm. The egghead types who were working on the formula all paused; some of them gasped or hid behind things, but none of them were brave enough to intervene. Jason shoved Crane’s face into the monitor, cracking it out like a spider’s web but never fully obscuring the image of that dark, cold warehouse - the place where you were alone and terrified. 

He twisted Crane’s broken arm, making a sound like glass grinding in on itself, and the man let out a howl. 

“I think you forget how this works.” Jason barked at him, his voice so dark with rage that it almost sounded like he was wearing Red Hood’s voice modulator even though his helmet was on the floor at Crane’s feet. “When dogs get pissed off - they bite.” 

He twisted the injury again, and Crane let out another bitter howl. 

Jason demanded to know where you were, and Crane squeaked out an address. It was in the industrial district, so it checked out in Jason’s mind. It didn’t seem like a trap or a false answer to waste his time. 

Jason shoved the pathetic, useless man to the ground, kicked him in the gut for good measure, and then leaned down to grab his helmet before shoving it on. He would need it in case Crane had anybody stationed there, guarding you. 

Crane shouted something at him as he walked away, but Jason was barely paying attention - now very singular minded on his mission toward you. 

“You have to learn to play by the rules, Red!” Crane choked out. “You won’t like how this ends! I made you! I fucking made you!” 

… 

Jason was surprised to find the building empty. No guards, seemingly no bombs, no gas canisters. At first, he thought it really was a trick, a misdirect to waste his time. But when he had just about given up hope of finding you, searching one of the back most rooms that used to serve as overflow storage for Ace Chemicals - he found you. Concrete and anonymous, some of the beams having eroded away in places from improper chemical storage. 

When you saw him stalking toward you - his gun drawn, heavy boots thudding against the floor, modulator puffing out heavy, mechanical breaths - you let out a terrified whimper past the duct tape and more tears flowed freely down your face. 

Jason felt a twinge of guilt. Of course. You had no clue it was him. 

Perhaps he could get away with the mercy of never revealing himself to you. He could keep his mask on, release you, drop you back off with the Titans and then leave town. But eventually, Dick would tell you who he was. 

At the very least, he could give you the comfort of seeing a familiar face after the hell you had been through. You were wearing a sweatshirt and simple cotton pants, and running shoes - it looked like you had been plucked off the street during a jogging session. He could only imagine how much Crane’s lackeys had scared you. 

Once he was confident that the area was secure, he holstered his gun and then reached up, removing the face mask from his helmet and tossing it aside. 

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” He told you - attempting to be gentle and soothing in his voice. 

He approached you slowly, not wanting you to be scared as he reached to his belt for a knife - only with the intention to cut the ropes around your torso, wrists, and ankles. 

He watched your expression as you flashed through a range of emotions - deep confusion, a bit of relief, sadness, and then strangely - burning anger. You glared at him with the most intense rage he had ever seen from you - more intense even than the day you had stormed into his room and called him stupid and suicidal for going after Doctor Light without backup. 

Jason was slightly afraid of the lecture that would come next, but nonetheless, he knelt beside you and began cutting you free. 

The minute that one of your hands was free, you reached up and ripped the duct tape off your mouth. You took only a fraction of a second to wince in pain from the tender skin of your lips being disturbed before you began verbally tearing into him. 

“Jason Todd!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, so loudly that Jason was sure some of the edges of the corroded concrete pebbled off and fell down just from this. “Jason fucking Todd! I should have known you had something to do with this!” 

“Wh-?” 

Before Jason could question your odd choice of words or even recognize it as an accusation, you raised your other freshly free hand and slapped him squarely across the cheek - it was a hard, skull-shaking clatter. It had Jason dizzy, falling back onto his ass and dropping the knife before he could finish cutting the ropes around your legs. 

“Fucking ow!” Jason griped, reaching up to grab his now very red cheek. 

“You are such an asshole! Of all the completely idiotic, stupid things you have ever done-” 

“I didn’t fucking kidnap you! Okay? I didn’t do shit!” Jason quickly argued back, finally now realizing that you thought he had put you here in the first place. “I’m here to rescue you!” He said each of these words slowly, looking you in the eyes, hoping that his point would get across more firmly this way. 

There was a tense moment as you stared back at him with your jaw locked. It was likely that if your feet hadn’t still been tied, you would have run away - or kicked him. Jason was thankful that you couldn’t do either at the moment.  

“Why?” You asked, finally breaking the tension. 

“What?” Jason gaped. 

This was the last thing he had been expecting. 

He was saving you - why were you questioning him? 

“Why are you ‘rescuing’ me?” You asked, taunting his phrasing of it with a mocking tone and large air quotes. He now regretted freeing your hands. “So you can bargain me off to Dick for ransom money? So you can put a bomb in my chest?” 

You said the last part with intense disdain, tears dancing in your eyes.

So you did know what a monster he was.  

He was surprised that you hadn’t hit him harder. 

Jason heaved a sigh. He reached over and picked up the knife, very slowly, very tentatively resuming cutting the ropes on your legs to free you. 

“I’m just freeing you so that you can be free. That’s it.” He said quietly, defeat lacing through every inch of his voice. “You don’t deserve this.” 

He cut the last rope and folded the knife, sticking it back in his belt. He stood up then and caught a glimpse of your face - you were wearing the most complex expression he had ever seen. Perhaps confusion, perhaps anger. Maybe somewhere deep in your eyes - hurt. 

He turned and moved to leave, hoping you would simply follow him out of the confusing maze of the building and he wouldn’t have to drag you out kicking and screaming. 

“That’s not an answer.” You told him, your tone sharp and certain - the same tone you always used to correct him. 

Jason whipped back around then, heaving a sigh as he looked at you - standing in the middle of the room now, arms folded over your chest, glaring at him on the spot. Cocky and so sure about yourself. Too damn certain and immobile in your points. Infuriating. 

“Why the fuck do you have to make everything so damn complicated?” Jason shot back, annoyance and dread tight in every inch of him. “Why do you have to interrogate me about every damn thing that I do?” 

“Because you make stupid ass decisions when I don’t.” You easily fired back. “Now tell me: why are you doing this?” 

“Because I wanted to.” Jason huffed. 

“Why?” You prodded again. 

He let out another hot huff, and you didn’t let it go. 

“Come on Jason!” You shouted, increasing in volume as you became more frustrated with his lack of an answer. “You didn’t just develop a conscience all of a sudden! Why did you feel the need to suddenly drop everything and come to my rescue? What makes me different than Hank? What makes me different than-?” 

It was the annoyance grinding on him. It was a combination of your nagging voice, the lack of drugs in his system for the first time in weeks. The rawness of the world ragging on his last good nerve. The sound of your voice putting him in line - exactly where he was supposed to be. The way you reminded him of the truth now more than ever. 

“Because I’m in love with you!” Jason shouted. 

It was almost… angry. It was a declaration that hit you like a whip - more like an insult than something warm and kind. It wasn’t made of sweetness, like some moment from a film with a gentle piano riff wrapped around it. It was real - made of the haunting kind of passion that kept Jason awake at night. 

Your eyes widened. Jason’s breathing stilled as he waited for you to react - to say something. 

“Oh.” Your voice cracked around this syllable, and your eyes danced with more tears. 

Jason felt his own heart crack apart inside of his chest, more terror flooding him. 

He had died with the secret because he had never wanted to live up to the embarrassing vulnerability of confessing it. In the deepest part of his mind, he had lived this horror a thousand times. Him finally creeping out onto the edge of oblivion - speaking those words. Confessing. And then you stabbing him in the heart, rejecting him. 

The reality of it ripped through him so much harder than it ever had in his nightmares. 

Any last tiny piece of his soul that had survived being murdered by the Joker had just been shattered by you. 

“Yeah. Fucking oh.” Jason echoed back, his own tears clutching at his throat. 

Seeing him with that naked vulnerability dancing behind his eyes - it reminded you of the same person who came back from being kidnapped by Doctor Light. It reminded you of the real Jason you had gotten to know. 

In that moment, it all came crashing toward you. You gasped harshly as you could barely breathe around it. 

That hole in your chest had been shaped like a lover - it had been shaped like him. Filled with the pain of letting him get hurt, leaving him alone in Gotham to be murdered by the Joker. Filled with the doubt and confusion of never knowing what could have been between the two of you if you had chased those flirtations a little bit farther. 

And now, he was standing right here in front of you, somehow perfectly alive and well - and there was only one possible thing you could do. 

“Jason.” You gasped out his name, unable to fathom more words. 

Before he could move, you reached out and grabbed both sides of his face, one of them still singed with a burning ache where you had slapped him so hard - and you pulled him into a kiss, hard. 

It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t dainty or smooth like some Hollywood love confession - it was hungry. Bordering on feral as you both fought to consume more of the other person, bleeding out little moans and fighting for breath past each other’s lips. Jason’s hands rushed to embrace you, wrapping around your back and grabbing a needy, possessive handful of your ass while you kept your grip tight on his face, keeping his face forcefully close to your own as you devoured his mouth. 

You felt some of his tears escape - such a rush of emotions making him raw and unable to hold them back, and you moaned pitifully into his mouth as he wetness slipped underneath your palms. Whatever it was - his pain, his pleasure; you would take it. He was all yours now. 

… 

Far off, on the other side of Gotham, Crane chuckled quietly to himself as he watched the scene unfold. He had pulled up the camera feed on a separate tablet, seeing as Jason had used his head to crack the monitor. With his broken arm bound in a temporary sling, he used his one good hand to pull something out of a drawer - a remote with a single button. 

“For these violent delights have violent ends,” He recited to himself, still grinning widely as he looked at the two lovers in the grainy, black and white footage. “And in their triumph, die like fire and powder. Which as they kiss, consume. Even the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, if the taste confounds the appetite.” Crane poised his finger on the button. “Therefore, love moderately.” 

He pressed down, and dissolved into more epic laughter as he watched what came next. 

… 

You were only human, and you could only kiss Jason for a few minutes before your brain demanded oxygen. As much as you hated to pull away from the sweet, bruising sting of his lips, you forced yourself back and immediately took in a sharp breath that turned into a rolling pant - Jason let out a needy whine in protest. 

With his arms holding you so securely and the dizzying heat now flowing through you - you almost didn’t catch it. But it was there, in the background, something steadily present that wasn’t there before. 

Beeping. A small, electronic beeping. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked Jason, squinting your eyes with confusion and looking around, trying to find the source of the noise. 

He did hear it. 

“Fuck.” Jason mumbled. 

Panic flooded him. The whole thing had been a trap. 

He pulled away from you hesitantly and grabbed his mask up off the ground, snapping it back on. 

“We have to go. Now.” He told you, his voice now sharp and robotic through the voice filter as he grabbed your wrist and began dragging you away - you became limp to his direction for once and simply followed, fear tight in your gut once again. 

Jason didn’t want to consider the possibilities, but he knew it could be anything from a large bomb, meant to tear you to shreds, to a large dose of fear gas waiting to be deployed. And he didn’t have an antidote at the moment. He needed to get you out of the building and transport you to safety. 

When the two of you came to a door - one of the many that Jason had passed through on his way in - it snapped shut in Jason’s face. It was on some kind of mechanical locking system, that much was apparent. Jason rushed forward, trying to pry it open - but it was welded steel, and it wouldn’t budge. 

Jason heard more slamming - more metal forcing itself shut on the same locking system. 

“Jason?” You croaked, that unsure terror back in your voice again. Something so rare for you. You were looking to him for answers. You were looking to him to rescue you. 

Overhead, the last bits of light were shut out - glimpses of the street lights outside - as thick metal shudders collapsed down over the windows. The room was sealing itself shut, becoming air tight. 

“Stand back.” Jason told you, not waiting to see if you followed the instruction before he pulled out one of his guns and began shooting at the door’s heavy metal hinges. He knew it was futile and he feared that one of the bullets might ricochet off and hit you, but he didn’t have many options left. 

Then he heard it. The gentle hissing of gas being released into the air. 

Jason was naive to have hoped that it was Crane’s classic Fear Gas - that would have been a merciful walk in the park compared to what he had planned for you. Betraying Jonathan Crane meant that Jason had to be truly punished. 

Jason turned to you, wrapping his arms around you, as if trying to shield you from the air itself - but it was too late. You began coughing and struggling to breathe, and Jason looked on with confusion as his chest twisted with guilt. 

With his helmet on, he felt nothing. For the first few moments, he didn’t even understand what was going on as you gasped for air, struggling to form a word as you choked on each breath. Jason had no clue what the substance was or how he could fix it, looking on in horror as thick fog clouded around your ankles - your eyes bulging out of your head as you struggled for oxygen. 

“Y/N?” Jason gasped, holding you by both shoulders as you became weaker and leaned on him. “Y/N?” 

You couldn’t answer him. 

You continued to wheeze, your breath hitching against your throat harshly. As the fog reached up to touch your face, it left angry, blistering marks in your skin. Unlike Jason, you had no armor to protect yourself - and somehow, Crane had turned the air itself acidic. Your eyes became wrecked with bloody red streaks and your face swelled as you continued to choke. 

Jason’s insides screamed, but he felt too still. 

As more of the fog touched you, some of the marks on your neck and your cheek blistered more and opened up, bleeding out pinkish bubbling puss as Jason continued to hold you - he didn’t know what else to do. 

All he could do was hold you. 

A harsh foam seeped out of your mouth as you choked on your last half-breath, and Jason felt a stinging pain consuming him - he wasn’t sure if it was the acidic fog finally breaching through his clothing, or the biting pain of having you limp in his arms - dead, as he huddled there on the floor. 

“Come on.” Jason wept, steaming up the inside of his helmet as he recycled back his own breath now. He reached up to your cheek, accidentally skimming off a layer of your marred skin with his gloved thumb as he tried to wipe away some of the teary blood that had leaked from your eyes. “Come on, Y/N. Wake up.” 

Jason simply wept. And he held you. 

As he looked at the camera feed, Crane smiled. 

“This is what happens when you don’t play by the rules, Red.”

...

A/N: SOOOO obviously this ending leaves us with a lot of questions - did Jason survive? I think this can be interpreted one of two ways: one, Jason did live. He managed to escape somehow, and he had scars all over his body from the acidic fog, and he enacted a very vicious, bloody, torturous revenge on Crane before going into hiding forever (or before using Red Hood to give actual justice to innocent people who needed it, his scars always a reminder of who he lost). Or - he sat there in shock and eventually choked to death as well. Or he pulled the whole 'my life is not worth living anymore' thing and just took off his helmet on purpose. So you can imagine that either of those things happened next.

Also, if you didn't catch it (or, if you're not a Saw person) - this situation was heavily inspired by the final plot twist trap in Saw X. I love the acidic fog, and I feel like Crane could be a trap guy. The Titans version of Crane could be good friends with John, imo.

Also, if you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

[quinnysnursery]

[👻] bad dog | colby brock one-shot

paring : little!colby brock x toxic/abusive!cg!oc (+ some cg!sam, if you squint)

summary : pure angst just pure pure angst honestly

warning/extra tid-bits : emotional and physical abuse, crying, injury, abandoning a little, swearing, all hurt NO comfort

word count : 892

divider credit : umm i found all the photos on pinterest :3 (x's on the bottom are by @saradika-graphics)

a/n : I BLAME @nicksbestie THEY CALLED ME THE ANGST QUEEN AND I COULDN'T DISSAPOINT /j /lh ALSO in no way am i trying to romantize or glorify these types of relationships, i'm simply writing angst. (sorry for any typos, i'm just a girl!)

“I get mean when I’m nervous, like a bad dog”

Colby gasped as he pushed away his caregiver’s hand- if you could even call her that. Caregivers didn’t yell at their littles, caregivers didn’t throw things two inches from their littles heads…and caregivers definitely didn’t make their littles shake in fear.

“Don’t push me away, I’m helping you.” She spoke, her tone only making the fear worse. “Go ‘way!” Colby sobbed, scooting himself further into the corner. His caregiver scoffed, standing up. “Fine, deal with your tantrum yourself.”

“I get mean when I’m nervous, like a bad dog”

“No!” Colby screamed, pulling his wrist away from his “caregiver”. “Don’t you yell at me!” She yelled, grabbing a random object off the countertop and chucking it at the man in front of her. “Ungrateful piece of shit!” 

Maybe that was true. Colby did yell at her, which he knew wasn’t okay. It wasn’t respectful or kind…but he only yelled after she snatched his wrist so hard it brought immediate tears to his eyes. Colby looked down at his arm, now red and sore.

Why should he be grateful for that?

“I want to jump into blue water”

Colby sniffled as he wrung out the washcloth before bringing the damp cloth to his face. He looked down as the cold water trickled into the sink, he tapped his phone screen- frowning at the time.

1:30 am.

Sam would surely be asleep, he should be too. His mind was still clouded with a slight haze, leaving him halfway regressed. Jennifer had stormed out after throwing the glass cup at his face, threatening to never come back.

Was it wrong that Colby prayed it wasn’t an empty threat this time?

“And I miss riding horses,”

He missed filming videos with Sam- actually, he just missed Sam in general. Their channel was dependent on pre-shot videos…their friendship depending on iMessages and the occasional phone call.

Despite their phone calls only happening once a blue moon, Sam asked the same question every time. 

“You good? You sound tired, man.”

Colby promised him he was fine every time, not wanting to worry the blonde man. He’d done this to himself. He was the one who decided to follow Jennifier to Colorado, leaving his best friend behind.

 As Colby looked in the mirror at his injured cheek, he knew he wasn’t “fine”. 

“I miss running fast,”

Sometimes- just before Colby closed his eyes for the night- he’d think about his favorite memories with Sam. He knew it was wrong, he was the one who chose to move two states away. He’d chosen this life away from Sam. Colby knew if Jennifer ever found out, he’d be in for a whirl of hurt. 

Emotionally and physically. 

He always fell deeper into his regression before bed. If he had it his way, he’d be in his caregiver’s arms. It wasn’t always like this- Jennifer used to be nice. She used to hold Colby, reading him story after story until he fell asleep.

It was only after she got him far away from Sam that the throwing, yelling and periods of abandonment started. 

Colby sniffled, rubbing his baggy sleeve over his eyes to wipe away his tears. 

“Just think of Sammy, Sammy’ll make it better.” His brain told him.

He was right. He thought about running through the empty fields of Kansas with his best friend. When the two moved to LA together, they ran up and down their neighborhood street. Sam liked the exercise- Colby liked spending time with his best friend.

Sam had known about his coping mechanism, because of course he did. Sam wasn’t just his best friend, he was his business partner. Of course Sam knew about Colby’s regression.

Once he fell while running- which sent him straight into his headspace. Sam didn’t miss a beat in comforting the little, assuring him he was the “bravest boy in the word”. 

Laying in bed all on his own, tears streaming down his face, Colby didn’t feel like the bravest boy in the world. He just felt like an idiot.

“I pretended you were mine,”

“I’ve got you, it’s okay.” Sam’s voice told him, arms like pillows as he cradled Colby close. “Sammy?” The dark-haired man sniffled, looking up at his best friend. 

“It’s okay bud, Sammy’s got you.” The blonde promised him, holding Colby tightly. As if Colby would ever dream of leaving his best friend’s side again. “S-Sammy,” The little choked out, holding onto the blonde’s plush hoodie. 

Sam shushed him, fingers dancing in Colby’s hair. It was nice. It was soothing.

“I’ve got you bud, nobody’s gonna hurt you. Never again.” Sam promised, taking a deep set pressure off of Colby’s shoulders. 

 “It made me calm.”

Colby gasped, shooting up out of his sleep. “Sammy?” He called, looking around him and Jennifier’s room. 

Oh.

Him and Jennifer’s room.

Colby frowned, tears budding in the corner of his eyes as he attempted settling back into the empty bed. Sam wasn’t in Colorado, Sam wasn’t saving Colby from Jennifer.

Sam was nearly a thousand miles away, but tonight..tonight Colby would pretend he was right next to him, because it made the pain in his cheek- and wrist- and heart- hurt a little less.

Colby would pretend Sam was his caregiver tonight, because it made him calm.

taglist !! :

@beesonhoneytoast @mattssturnz @mattsturniologf444 @graceslittlecorner @zivall @hrtz4alex2211 @bimbob1tch @cherry-red-heart @https--roman @frlinbruh @jazminepetit-homme @raynaaxx

[raribella]

To Say “I Love You” Right Out Loud | JJ Maybank

summary: JJ revisits his childhood and how he grew up with you through every side of life until he finally understands why this makes you so special

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

genre: fluff, a spark of angst

contains: a combo of “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell and Love Actually (2003), mentions of death and child abuse. John B and JJ are childhood friends in this. I don’t know how to write dialogue. Drug usage (beer, weed).

word count: 6k

author’s note: I was immediately triggered by Joni’s astonishing performance at the Grammy’s and by remembering that the song is in one of my favorite movies. This is my favorite fanfiction I’ve probably ever written and I put so much time and love into this I really hope you like it.

This is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters of Outer Banks nor any characteristic of the show. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.

Rows and flows of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air; and feather canyons everywhere. I looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, they rain and they snow on everyone; so many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way.

College had finally ended. They had finally done it. Against all odds and contrary to the expectations of others, the pogues were finally free to embark on their own paths. And so, they gathered for one last celebration, a bonfire near the Cat's Ass, surrounded by shotguns, snacks, and reminiscing in the familiar feeling of just being together.

Spreading themselves along the space at the Chateau's yard, most of them ended up divided the comfortable water at the tub and the warmth of the fire, their laughter mingling with the sound of running water as they shared stories of what each of them could remember of their time roaming the Outer Banks as this fearless gang; the sentiment of each flashback was being intensified from the time they spent apart. As they were the pogues, it was not like their time together was abruptly interrupted, but the responsibilities and the minor distance happened during college, and they couldn't run away from it's effects; but the memories of those days seemed tattooed into their hearts and minds as they could recall every moment in lighthearted detail.

In a corner of the Cat's Ass, JJ found himself lost in a sea of memories, surrounded by the comforting embrace of his friends. You sat beside him in the water, the coolness soothing against your skin, while Cleo and Pope nestled comfortably at his other side. Outside, John B, Sarah, and Kie laughed and joked, their voices carrying on the night breeze. As he watched them, a faint, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of JJ's lips, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared history, thinking back on how far they had come. They had started as a trio—himself and the Routledge twins, bound together by fate and circumstance.

The tree of you lay sprawled out on the sand for what seemed like hours, your eyes tracing the ever-changing shapes that danced across the sky. Castles, pirates, turtles—your imaginations ran wild, weaving tales of adventure and intrigue as you watched the clouds drift lazily overhead. At nine years old, you had joined your brother and JJ just a few moments ago, after spending the afternoon at a friend's house watching a Christmas movie, "Love Actually," with her mother.

As you settled into the sand, JJ couldn't resist a playful jab at the movie, dismissing it as a "dumb chick flick." his mind still floated between that child-like distaste of girls and the appreciation of you tagging along with him and John B back then. You swatted at him, your tiny arms barely reaching his chest, but it only elicited a smirk from the blond pogue. It was nice for you to actually share a moment with a nurturing figure at the absence of your own mom, who had just recently left for Colorado. Besides, you had eaten a whole bag of M&M's that she bought for you to share and you really liked the movie, even if it was funny how sometimes Mia's mom would tell you to close your eyes, your ears, or how sometimes you didnt really catch why she was laughing at some weird scene. You just rolled your eyes and brushed JJ's comment off, suggesting the sky gazing then relishing in the opportunity to spend time with him and your brother.

Your days were often filled with moments like this, carefree and full of laughter, the sound echoing against the backdrop of crashing waves. JJ's mother would eventually come to fetch the three of you, ushering you inside for sweet treats and cozy nights spent squeezed together in JJ's tiny room. Or you'd spend hours playing in the grass, watching as the river met the sea, until Big John's bell rang out, signaling the end of another day. You would get home covered in dirt, JJs hair color nearing yours and your brothers, so you would have a nice shower and come out to your dad telling treasure tales and making you hot chocolate.

One day, as Big John finished building a set of three swings for you, JJ's parents arrived. Standing side by side, the couple had brought beer and peanuts to complement what your dad already had inside for the night. That day, you were playing for hours, your small frame struggling to mount the swing until the duo stepped in to help. John B had made a mess while trying to help you hop on, and  JJ stepped forward to push you, but in excited haste, he pushed too hard, and you tumbled to the ground, scraping your knee. As your first cry pierced the air, the adults rushed to your side, JJ's mother soothing your pain with stinging medicine and comforting words.

In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of JJ, guilt etched on his face as he watched you wince in pain. But your brother nudged him, urging him to shake off his guilt and claiming that this was just a mere blip in the larger scale of the adventure you lived today.

And as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the beach, Luke took charge, setting a bonfire ablaze near the ancient tree in the backyard. The flames flickered casting shadows that stretched out against the sand. You gathered around the fire, marshmallows in hand to be skewered and toasted, laughter filled the air and echoed into the night. The hours slipped away unnoticed, so as the night wore on and the fire burned low, reluctantly, you bid farewell to your blonde friend as he left with his parents.

The life you lived was simple; living in the less fortunate side of the island, you couldnt really enjoy much more than moments like these; the food wasn't fancy, the drinks weren't expensive, your houses weren't pretty and big, so you relied mostly in home made playthings and your own imagination, but you were happy that way; the youthful innocence made all the diferences between you and the kooks be seen with rose coloured glasses, and while in the company of your brother, your best friend, and the team of parents that you saw as guardian angels, it all just seemed warm. It seemed like it would be fine.

One day, though, just as the sky turns cloudy at the end of summer, signaling the onset of storm season, JJ's demeanor shifted, casting a shadow over his usual brightness. At fourteen now, he had been seeming distant and preoccupied at school for weeks, until one day after class, he reached out to you with a heavy heart. Fidgeting nervously, his hands clammy and cold, he confided in you about his mother's illness, the weight of the words hanging heavy in the air. Knowing how much his mother meant to you both, he sought solace in sharing his burden with you, trusting you with his vulnerability. "Mumma's sick, I think... been in the hospital for a while now," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't visit because I'm not sixteen yet... I- I wanted you to know, but you can't tell John B." And as you hugged him, you promised to keep his secret, the first one you kept just between the two of you.

And as JJ clung to you and John B in the solemn silence of the cemetery, the stark reality of their loss weighed heavily upon you, casting a shadow over your once bright and colorful world.. JJ's mother's absence lingered like a specter in their home, his father grappled with the weight of his grief, seeking solace in alcohol and spiraling into a downward spiral of despair. The once vibrant hues of their family life began to fade, replaced by the darkness of addiction and aggression. JJ watched helplessly as his father's temper flared more frequently, his outbursts leaving scars both physical and emotional. The sanctuary of their home became a battleground, each day a struggle to navigate the minefield of his father's unpredictable moods.

In the aftermath of his mother's passing and the turmoil within his home, JJ withdrew into himself, building walls around his heart that even his closest friends struggled to breach. He became increasingly unreachable, his once vibrant presence dimmed by the weight of his grief and the scars of his father's aggression. Some days, he would disappear altogether, only to reappear with a purple eye hidden beneath dark glasses, a silent testament to the struggles he faced behind closed doors. And when he did show up, his demeanor was somber, his face etched with a perpetual frown as he rejected activities he once enjoyed. Even cloudgazing at the beach became a source of frustration for JJ, as he lamented the impending rain or the end of summer, his words tinged with bitterness and resignation. As you and your brother looked on, helpless in the face of his pain, you could only watch as JJ retreated further into himself, the vibrant colors of his spirit muted by the shadows that engulfed him.

The tension crackled in the air as you confronted JJ, frustration bubbling to the surface like a storm about to break. "Why won't you just watch 'Love Actually' with me, like, once? It'd help distracting you, y'know!?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation. "You can't keep avoiding fun, JJ. You can't lose hope and light just because things are tough."

But JJ's response was sharp, his tone laced with bitterness. "Those things are for kooks, y/n" he retorted, his words heavy with the weight of his pain. "Pogues can't afford to indulge in luxuries like love and hope. We have to focus on surviving you know."

Your heart sank at his words, feeling the distance between you grow with each passing moment. "If you really look for it, JJ," you countered softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I've got a sneaky feeling that love is all around. Even for us Pogues." But JJ's expression remained hardened, his walls firmly in place as he turned away, the gap between you widening with each step he took.

John B stepped in a while later, his voice calm but firm as he defended his friend. "He's been through a lot," John B interjected, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of empathy and understanding. "Give him time, he'll come around. I know he will."

But despite John B's reassurances, the weight of your worry and frustration bore down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you sought solace in the arms of your father, tears streaming down your cheeks as you poured out your heart. "I didn't mean to be petty," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "But I'm just so worried about how Luke has been treating JJ. I miss him, Dad. I miss the way things used to be." And as your father held you close, comforting whispers soothing your troubled mind, you cried yourself to sleep, longing for the comfort of simpler times and the warmth of JJ's presence by your side.

A few days after the heated exchange, JJ found himself drawn to the familiar solace of the beach. As he laid alone on the sand, the rhythmic sound of the waves echoing in the background, he cast his gaze upward, chuckling at the shifting shapes and colors of the clouds above. Yet, amidst the tranquility of the moment, a pang of longing stirred within him.

Reflecting on recent events, JJ realized that he had begun to see clouds from two distinct perspectives—from the highs and lows of life's tumultuous journey. But amidst the solitude, his mind drifted to an understanding; to how he seemed to have looked at clouds like this from two different perspectives now, from up and down, and still he would recall better colorful and elusive memory of your company. He remembered the joy of pointing out funny shapes at the sky with you and your brother, laughter echoing into the vast expanse. It was a memory painted in hues of warmth that contrasted with the darker shades of recent events. In that fleeting moment of recollection, JJ yearned to return to that moment exactly, to say sorry, at least. And alone at that same beach, he felt like he had a perspective of a future for the first time in a long time. He wanted to see if he truly knew clouds at all, or if there was a new side to it.

JJ was abruptly brought back to reality by Pope's punchline of a memory of his own; he was retelling the story of how he met Cleo at college, and how she wouldn't have passed half her subjects f it wasn't for him. As the group erupted into laughter, he did the same to mask the fact that he had zoned out for a minute, but JJ's gaze instinctively sought yours, his heart yearning for the comfort of your smile. And as his eyes met yours, a warmth spread through him, his thoughts drifting to another memory

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels; the dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way. But now it's just another show, and you leave 'em laughing when you go. And if you care, don't let them know, don't give yourself away.

At sixteen years old, you had a full understanding of the dizzying, electric sensation that washed over you whenever JJ emerged from the sea, his board in hand. It was a feeling that stirred deep within you, igniting a spark that refused to be extinguished. Yet, despite the intensity of your emotions, uncertainty plagued your heart. You couldn't decipher JJ's true feelings for you; for every significant gesture or word he offered, there was an equal measure of aloofness or distance.

There were moments when JJ's actions spoke volumes, leaving you breathless with hope and anticipation. But just as quickly, he would retreat into himself, leaving you to question whether his affections were genuine or merely fleeting. And then there were the times when he would disappear into the crowd at a kegger, his attention captured by another girl, leaving you to grapple with the ache of unrequited longing.

Fearing the consequences, you kept your emotions hidden from your brother, John B, despite his keen intuition and suspicions about your lingering glances. Instead, you found solace in the companionship of Pope and Kiara, the only other pogue girl. Your friendship with Kiara blossomed rapidly, providing a safe haven where you could confide in her about everything, including the complexities of your feelings for JJ, seeking her guidance and understanding.

In December of that same year, a vivid memory remains etched in your mind—the day JJ was meant to pick you up from work and take you to the Chateau to meet up with the rest of the crew. Kiara had proposed the idea of a secret Santa, with the stipulation that the gifts could only be candy or chocolate—She herself aiming to guarantee that she'd get a bag or two of Sour Patch Kids. As you exited the souvenir shop, clutching your own "Paradise On Earth" cap, you spotted JJ waiting for you by the Twinkie—the van John B claimed would be safer than the bike. With both hands hidden behind his back, you shot him a questioning look. "Hello?" you greeted tilting your head slightly to the side, to which he responded with a playful smile, feigning surprise at seeing you. "Oh, hello ma'am, your carriage is right here!" he exclaimed, extending his arms towards the open door of the van, one hand tightly clutching something that piqued your curiosity. Hopping onto the Twinkie, you couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious object as JJ closed the door and took his place behind the wheel.

During the ride, JJ attempted to coax the name of your secret Santa out of you, but you remained tight-lipped. Upon parking the van at the Chateau, he sat in silence for a few moments, and you studied him intently. "Oh, before I forget," he said non-chalantly, reaching into his pocket and offering you the object he had been concealing—a ceramic lobster adorned with a tiny Christmas hat, clearly crafted by him. "This is for the nativity scene you keep in your room, I just didn't have time to make the other one..." he explained, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he confessed that he hadn't received your name for the candy exchange but couldn't bear to leave you without a gift.

You stood in awe for a moment, marveling at the thoughtful gesture and the evident reference it held. JJ's apprehension melted away as your eyes met his, a radiant smile spreading across his face. "Wait, wait, wait... Are you trying to tell me that there was more than one lobster at the birth of Jesus?" you quoted, teasingly. JJ rolled his eyes playfully, completing the reference with a loud "duh!" his laughter mingling with yours as you stepped out of the car into the moonlit night, making a lighthearted entrance at the Chateau and eliciting a knowing look from Kiara towards John B.

As time passed, you welcomed Sarah into the fold, introduced by John B with starry-eyed affection that spoke volumes of their budding romance. With the dynamic between her and Kiara settled, John B wasted no time in proudly declaring their relationship to the group—a declaration met with hugs, smiles, and lighthearted jokes about not hurting each other.

One day, Sarah suggested a surf trip to a lesser-known beach nestled between Figure 8 and the Cut, its pristine beauty a sight to behold with crystalline waters and powdery white sand. As you surfed the afternoon away, basking in the warmth of the sun, you found yourself sprawled on the sand along with the rest of the group, supporting yourself on your elbows and catching your breath as you watched JJ roll a joint with practiced ease. "I like this shit," JJ declared, his voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "We can be neglected misfits or whatever, but I love leading this life with you guys. I don't even care about what people think of me! "long as I have a board and you guys, 'm gonna be saying I'm rich... Especially if I have this!" He gestured towards the joint, his words met with cheers from the group.

Your smile started weak but grew as the group cheered. In that moment, you felt a sense of family, and your appreciation for JJ weighed heavily on your chest. Despite the challenges, he had found a way to see life in a positive light, even after Big John went missing. As the wind blew sea salt into your eyes, you turned your face toward JJ. "Yeah, yeah… you know, I keep saying it… but if you really look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that—"

"Y/n, if I hear that quote just one more time!" Sarah interrupted, and the others joined in with her lighthearted protest.

With time, JJ's behavior became increasingly perplexing since after sharing moments like this, he would leave you alone, retreating into the company of the other Pogues with a suddenness that felt jarring and awkward. His focus would shift, his attention consumed by their own banter, leaving you to wonder where you fit into the equation.

It was during these moments of isolation that doubts crept in, whispering of insecurities and unspoken fears that lingered just beneath the surface. Wondering if you did something wrong, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing as you watched JJ immerse himself in the dynamics of the group, his laughter mingling with theirs as you stood on the sidelines, a silent observer to a world that felt increasingly distant and unfamiliar.

One morning, as you shuffled through the Chateau's corridors, the aroma of breakfast lingering in the air as John B shuffled through the kitchen, you noticed JJ's door ajar. You peeked inside with the intention of wishing him a good morning, only to be met with a sight that shattered your makeshift reality of him. JJ hovered over another girl in his bed, their closeness echoing a betrayal that left you speechless.

"Hey, whoa! Sorry!" His voice softened as he realized it was you, not your brother, at the door. The shock on your face was palpable as you hastily pushed the door closed, shaking your head to dispel the image burned into your mind. Stumbling down the corridor, you muttered a distant "morning" to Kie and Pope, who were still groggy on the couch, woken by the commotion.

Throughout the day, both JJ and yourself moved in a state of flustered avoidance, exchanging glances laden with sheepish guilt. JJ's eyes mirrored the remorse of a caught wrongdoer, but you couldn't summon anger; instead, you carried the weight of hurt and confusion, grappling with the realization that he wasn't yours to claim.

As the day waned and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Chateau, you found solace on the hammock. With the remnants of the day lingering, you confided in Sarah about the events, the words tumbling out as the weight on your chest grew heavier. The hammock cradled you in its gentle sway as another day ended, leaving you to confront the tangled emotions that now clouded the once-clear skies of your friendship with JJ.

JJ vividly remembered June of the following year, with your birthday fast approaching. Usually, you wouldn't stop talking about how much you loved having your birthday during the summer, and everyone would plan something special to mark the occasion. Kie and Sarah would always get you fancier gifts, like a new top or necklace, while the boys made sure there was a cake to share, probably under the tree lights at another night spent at the Cat's Ass, chuckling at the stupid name JJ had given to the tub.

But this year was different. You and the girls wouldn't stop talking about this idiotic touron, Jeremy, who had apparently flirted with you when you helped him at the store. Now, your attention seemed solely focused on him, much to JJ's annoyance. He rolled his eyes and huffed aloud whenever Jeremy's name was mentioned, with Pope nudging him to keep his cool.

"He's gonna take me to a summer fair," you grimaced, looking into the mirror as Kiara clasped a necklace around your neck. Sarah and JJ hovered on the kitchen counter, Pope sat on the couch, and your brother leaned against the doorframe of your room with a protective frown on his face. John B always believed you and JJ would end up together, and he felt safe with that perspective because he knew and trusted JJ. But that didn't happen with Jeremy.

Across from him, you, Sarah, and Kie giggled with scenarios and provocations, "What if he brings you a giant teddy bear and tries to win you a goldfish?" Kiara teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Sarah snickered. "I can already picture it!"

Meanwhile, JJ fought to keep a frown from appearing on his own face. He was unwilling to let you know how he really felt about the situation, and he avoided giving his jealousy away to his friends. As you exited laughing with the guy in his car—a godforsaken Jeep, for crying out loud—JJ was still unknowingly clenching his jaw, his mouth twisted in a disgusted frown.

Sarah, the only one still outside by now, smiled to herself and snuck up on him before reaching a hand to pat his back. The gesture was meant to silently convey far more than his poisoned mind could grasp at the moment.

He chuckled at that memory; you had to endure a girlfriend of his own during college, and he watched as two or three other guys broke your heart as well—he wanted to go out there and punch them every time, but preferred that only John B externalized that thought. From those memories, he realized he had looked at love from both sides of it with you, from give and take, but years later he wasn't so sure if you'd be keen on the idea of him ever again. JJ turned to you in the tub, whispering, "Where's that lobster I gave you that Christmas?" You were a bit taken aback by his sudden recall but smiled back, mimicking the tone of his voice, "Been keeping it on my bookshelf all year long now."

John B and Sarah were now playfully arguing about the two perspectives from when she joined the group, with Kie tagging along to remind them of how they had to make amends beforehand. It made JJ come back fully into the scene. As he looked around, he realized they were sitting in couples, at least Pope and John B, and he held back a nostalgic smirk at the thought of how his younger self would react to both his old friends now "pussy whipped," stuck in relationships and breaking the "no pogue on pogue macking" rule—he didn't know love at all.

He was different too, at least Kiara said so, coming at him a few days ago before graduation with a whole "you've changed, became more yourself and know how to separate what you went through from what you are, I'm so proud you're opening the surf shop—but please make it eco-friendly" speech. It was nice to look back and realize how his years and moments with the Pogue family kept balancing out all the rest. Now he would open a sick surf shop, Poguelandia flag above it and all, right in the corner from the souvenir one you worked since you were fifteen—he didn't know if you had bigger plans than that after graduating though, but that was an uneasy thought he preferred to ignore.

Tears and fears and feeling proud to say, "I love you" right out loud! Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way. Oh, but now old friends they're acting strange, and they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed. Well something's lost, but something's gained, in living every day.

Kiara was the first one to leave, claiming that this was really good and that she knew that with the pogues there were never really goodbyes, but that she had an early morning tomorrow with a sea-turtle project. Then, as the fire died out and the minutes turned into hours, the two couples left as well. Pope and Cleo claimed that they still had to shower before going to bed, and John B only snuggled with Sarah, pushing her towards the house. As the couple giggled, JJ noticed from his peripheral vision when you jiggled your eyebrows at Sarah, but the blonde only winked at you, pointing at the both of you at the tub before turning back. You sighed, distancing yourself from him now that you had more space in the water, and JJ held back a smile as the tree lights illuminated your pink cheeks. At twenty-two, he felt just like a teenager in that moment.

There were a few quiet minutes then, you were looking intently at him, drawing each of his features with your eyes as if trying to tattoo the image of his wet torso on your brain, but JJ didn't notice; he was lost in thought, provoked by being alone with you again. JJ realized that ever since he could remember, even though your brother was his de facto best friend and even as the group grew larger, you were there. For every phase and every belief that each one etched into him, you were there. As he looked at both sides of life, at win and lose, you were right beside him, either winning and losing as well or just supporting him emphatically through it.

Somehow he could always just recall how his pogue life acquired a rose-colored filter with you in it; he'd recall life's illusions with you at his side. You were there. You were it. And he didn't know his next step at all, but he wanted you in it; ached for it even.

He feigned cold as an excuse to get you both out of the tub, grabbing the one towel thrown onto a chair and wrapping it around you as you exited as well. He threw a familiar, amicable smile in your direction to disguise how he was, again, lost in his own train of thought. A hand rested on the small of your back as he led the two of you to the Chateau. As you got to the front porch, the other reached for your pulse gently, trying to stop you from entering. JJ became conscious of how he was dripping onto the wooden porch, but he didn't care, calling you by your nickname in a low voice. He was acting fast, planning something but also acting instinctively, intending to speak just from memory.

"Hey, uhm..." he stopped himself again as your eyes locked onto his, growing a little bit nervous now. Your eyebrows shot up expectantly, and some of your hair was sticking to your wet face. You'd be the death of him.

"With any luck, by next year, I'll be going out with one of these girls..." Your brows pinched, and eyes flashed with recognition as JJ shuffled his phone, some drops falling from his hair onto the screen before he turned it in your direction with a picture of Kendall Jenner and sliding his finger so it would also show one of Giselle Bündchen. You laughed, gulping expectantly.

"But for now, let me say, without hope or agenda, just because we finished college— even though it's at Christmas that you tell the truth." You chuckled again, but felt like you were hyperventilating, unable to believe that this was really happening to you. Much less that JJ Maybank had memorized a scene from the "dumb chick flick" you obsessed with since you were a mere child. You battled with your own feelings as you tried to let him finish.

"To me, you are perfect, and my wasted heart will love you until you look like this..." He shuffled again with the tiny screen, a smirk on his face as he turned it to you. A photo of a very old and wrinkly woman made you chuckle. Under it, it read "former surfer lady turns viral as she advises to the risks of not wearing sunscreen." You couldn't hold the cackle that left you at that, not even worried about the rest of the group sleeping inside the house, which made JJ smile widely as well.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, I love you..." A loud sigh met a sob halfway as you looked up, feeling pounds lighter after saying so naturally something you had been burying for years, feeling absurdly proud of just that. "I love you so much, what the fuck! I've loved you forever." You beamed at him again, relief written all over his face as he said it back proudly. "I'm sorry for the wait; it wasn't on purpose—Swear it." He grabbed both your cheeks as you laughed, smiling from ear to ear as his face etched closer to yours by the second. Your noses were touching already when he whispered in a low tone, "fuck, y/n..." as your mouths glued together longingly.

The world seemed to fade away as your lips met, a rush of warmth spreading through you as if the sun had risen inside your chest. JJ's touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as his hands cradled your face gently, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. Every moment felt like an eternity as you lost yourselves in the kiss, the taste of saltwater, beer and weed mingling with the sweetness of the moment.

For JJ, it was as if everything he had been holding back, every unspoken word and hidden feeling, was finally pouring out into this one embrace. His heart raced in his chest as he kissed you, his mind buzzing with the realization that he had found something truly precious in you. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a culmination of years of friendship and longing finally coming to fruition.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, JJ's eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that took your breath away. In that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. You had crossed a threshold together, stepping into a new chapter of your lives filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a future together. And as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was just what you wanted; like you were made for just that.

"I don't even want to come inside, I don't wanna-" you said, sighing mid chuckle, "don't wanna do anything right now, God, JJ, I'm like in a haze!" He clung to you, chuckling, his hands going to your arms, your neck, your hair—he wanted to touch all of you. "Always have the hammock..." he suggested, and you rushed your way there as if just walking would make you lose any time with him.

After you spent a while staring at the stars in the sky, listening to the chirping of crickets in between small, sloppy kisses, JJ sleepily muttered "I feel like I'm fucking high right now," you both laughed "like I'm floating—life accomplishment kind of thing." you swatted at his chest, lightheartedly telling him to stop being silly before readjusting in the wet towel that served as a blanket for the two of you.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you drifted off to sleep, the sound of the river running to meet the ocean lulling you into a state of contentment. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the warmth of JJ's embrace and the soft rhythm of his breathing. It was a moment of pure bliss, a fleeting glimpse of perfection in an imperfect world.

The warm rays of the morning sun gently kissed the faces of the sleeping pogues as they stirred awake, the sounds of birdsong filling the air. Stretching and yawning, they emerged from their makeshift beds scattered across the Chateau, the pull-out couch and matresses on the floor.

As they gathered outside to clean the space free of empty cans and wrapping paper, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, John B's gaze was the first one to fall upon the sight of JJ and you nestled together in the hammock, still fast asleep. He nudged Sarah first, but soon a collective smile spread across their faces as they exchanged knowing glances, a silent understanding passing between them.

"About time," Pope muttered under his breath, eliciting chuckles from the others.

John B grinned, looking at Sarah. "Looks like our boy finally made his move."

Sarah rolled her eyes playfully. "Took them long enough," she teased, but there was genuine warmth in her voice.

Kiara smirked, crossing her arms, she showed a satisfied facade even though she was jumping inside, bubbling with happiness for the both of you; the sparkle of her eyes being hard to hide. "Well, better late than never, I guess."

With a chorus of laughter and gentle ribbing, the pogues left JJ and you to enjoy your moment together, the feeling was that their little family had just grown a little bit stronger. You had woken up the moment the front door banged back against it's frame as it closed the first time, but feeling JJ's chest under your head, you decided to just keep your eyes closed, fighting a grin to show on your face at your friends' commentaries. You were home. And you only wanted to know life now if it was by JJ's side; especially if he'd be scratching your hair like he was doing just now, half a smile on his lips—"Did I take that long?" he questioned, jokingly.

"A lifetime."

If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love, actually, is all around.

[baronessvonglitter]

Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 8 🍒

"Fooled Around and Fell in Love"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 1,807

Summary: a mini getaway brings you closer to Joel, and you reach a new level of your budding relationship.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), adult language, brief mention of someone unaliving herself (told in a local legendary tale), breast/nipple play, thigh riding, hand job, mutual confessions of love, reader's race not mentioned, takes place in summer 2003, no use of y/n

Author’s Note: I admit I don't know much about the terrain of Austin that well, but Mount Bonnell is real as is the Colorado River, so any mistakes are my own and purely for fictional purposes anyway. The legend that Joel tells the reader is very loosely based on a story my grandfather told me when I was a kid. I once went on a date with a guy who took me to a cemetery because he thought it was a romantic place, and that gave me the idea for Joel telling that downer story lol. If I missed any tags please let me know!

Series Masterlist

You're on cloud fucking nine.

No one has ever made you feel this way, as if you're brand-new, abundant with promise, with new chances. The little moments you spend with Joel are marked upon your young heart. And you do spend little moments together: he comes by the cafe for coffee before work or after, and the times you hang out with Sarah at the Miller house, you find that Joel hangs out as well, adding himself as an awkward part of the group, until Sarah asks him to leave. You have to hide your smile when he leaves, or risk your secret being blown.

One late Saturday afternoon he picks you up from work in his truck. It's a June night in the Texas hill country, and the sun sets its last golden rays of the day down upon the deep green hills on the horizon. The windows are down, radio blasting Neil Diamond tunes, especially since Joel has turned you on to his music. One of his hands is on the steering wheel and the other is in your lap. You trace the lines in the roughness of his palms, trace each broad finger, wonderingly, and when you look up you see the effect you have on him. Joel is turned on by any little way you touch him.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though honestly you could be driving to Hell itself and it would be just fine with you.

"Just wanna be alone with you for a little bit, sweetheart. Is that okay?" He looks over at you and you know you can't resist those deep brown eyes, the way the lines around them crinkle when he smiles.

"Fuck yeah," you grin, eliciting a wide smile from him.

He drives you up to Mount Bonnell, where you've never been, and your heart gallops to think that you're finally going to be alone with him. He drives you about halfway then insists on hiking the rest of the way.

"Joel, I've been on my feet all day," you pretend to pout at his suggestion.

"I'll carry you if I have to," he says with a wicked gleam in his eye. "But I do want you to see the view from up there." He offers his hand and you take it without delay.

Even though there's almost a twenty year age difference between you, you notice that Joel is quite agile, but you keep up with him, laughing at the freedom of the moment. His hand rests on your lower back when you slow down, and brings you close to his side, stopping for you to have a drink of water. "The view will be worth it, I promise," he says in that deep drawl you love so much.

And when you do reach the top, wiping the sweat from your forehead with your arm, the view takes your breath away. The evening sky is azure, with pink and violet cotton candy clouds stretching to infinity, and the earth touched with tinges of tangerine. Below, the Colorado River flows serenely. You and Joel stare in wonder: you watch the view and he watches you. His hand is in yours, and he pulls you close for an embrace. "It's gorgeous," you say at last.

"Not as gorgeous as you," he says with a twinkle in his eye. He leads you to sit upon a rock in the shade of an oak tree. "There's a legend about this place, that in the 1830s there was a young woman who leapt to her death to avoid being captured by men who'd killed her fiance."

You raise your head from where you'd been leaning on his shoulder. "That's actually pretty sad."

He nods solemnly. "Yeah.. I maybe should've saved that story for later."

You giggle and elbow him. "You really know how to ruin a romantic mood, old-timer."

"So you admit you're having a romantic time?" He brings his lips to your ear.

"I was," you retort.

"How can I remedy that?"

"Ten grand would do it, for my mental anguish," you continue the banter.

"Your check's in the mail," he says, his lips now on the soft part of your neck below your ear.

You let his kisses travel down your neck, giggling lightly at ticklish feel of his mustache on your sensitive skin. His hands wander across your chest, gently lifting your shirt to find the satin-smooth cups of your bra. Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter shut despite the stunning view before you. His fingers dip beneath your bra, his thumb grazing your nipples, softly teasing them to hardness. When you sigh he catches your lips in a kiss, his tongue tasting your mouth as your arms wrap around his neck. Your hand encourages his own under your shirt, and he squeezes your breast, eliciting a moan from your sweet lips.

A sudden rainstorm sweeps through, starting to soak both of you.

"Truck," you say breathlessly, both of you scrambling to your feet to get back to the vehicle. You shriek when he lifts you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brings you to the truck. Once inside, you're both wet, but you don't care, reaching for each other again in the dry safety of the truck that's become your only getaway for your secret romance.

In a blur of lust you take off your damp shirt, reveling in the carnivorous look on Joel's face. Next come off your shorts, and Joel's breathing becomes all but labored. Just in your panties and bra you kiss him, slowly, savoring his taste as his hands grip your waist. "I need you," you moan, and the excitement between you becomes electric. You climb onto his lap, writhing against him.

The rain beats down on the truck as the two of you discover each other, tasting the raindrops on each others' skin. Joel's shirt is off, his jeans pulled down. "There's something I want ya to do for me," he says.

A thousand thoughts come to mind. It could be anything. "And that would be..?"

"Take off your panties. I want to feel you, hot and wet on my thigh while I suck your nipples."

He has a way of saying things that make your insides light up, your cunt clenching as if he's already in there.

He holds you close, his large hands roaming your waist and your hips. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you whisper. Keeping your eyes on him you remove your panties, sliding the fabric down your legs, tossing them to the floor of the truck. His hungry gaze goes to the V where your thighs meet, and he guides you to his thigh, groaning when your hot wet cunt settles on his skin. You feel why he would like this, and begin to move a little to ease the ache he's built up in you. He lets you do as you wish, whatever makes you feel good.

"That's good," he whispers his seductive encouragement. "Just rub yourself on me, sweetheart. Fuck yourself on me."

Your eyes close and with your arms around his neck you move, seeking that friction on your clit that will make you see stars. And just as you get into a nice rhythm Joel reaches behind you and deftly removes your bra, gently moving the straps down your arms as you drop them to your sides. When he uncovers your breasts his breath hitches. He cups them in both his wide palms, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples as he did earlier, and bringing his lips to each puckered pebble, then lapping his tongue over one while softly tweaking the other, testing your limits, grazing your delicate flesh with his teeth. The faster you move the harder he pulls at you, his hands splayed on your back, keeping you pressed to him.

You palm him through his underwear, familiarizing his shape with your hands. His girth and length are intimidating, but in this moment you don't have to worry about taking him inside of you. Not yet. You stroke him as he removes himself from his briefs, loving the groans he makes, the way his cock seems to grow harder by the second, jerking under your touch. You use the beads of precum on his tip to lubricate him, caressing him with longer, stronger strokes.

The car windows fog up with the steam of your gasps and sighs. You grab at the back of his head, cradling it to you as he continues worshipping your breasts.

"Joel! Joel!" you whisper his name in a frenzy of euphoria, and then his thumb is on your clit, pressing gently, flicking, moving with you until you come, hips twitching as you convulse. At the same time you feel him come, his semen spilling over onto your hand, thick and warm. He smiles when he feels you've also left your own traces on his skin.

In those hazy moments after, you rest your head on his chest and he kisses your hair. The small space of the truck is scented with your musk and sweat. It's peaceful, and you feel closer to him than ever. Though you haven't technically had sex yet, you feel your innocence being chipped away at, and it's exciting. For the first time you're in control of what you do.

"You can't be real," he says, his voice breaking the silence that blankets you both. "You gotta be some fantasy that I dreamed up, or some kinda angel."

"I am. You died and this is heaven," you joke, kissing his neck.

You don't even hurry to get dressed. The rain has slowed to a drizzle but there's no rush for you to leave.

"You comin' over tonight? Thought maybe we could watch a movie.. you, me, and Sarah."

"Really? I'd like that." You love the sweetness he has after the intense passion you've just shared.

"I gotta drop you off at your car. Once I'm able to catch my breath, and once I've got feelin' back in my legs I'll drive you back."

You chuckle, kissing along his collarbone. "But what if I'm not done with you yet?" Oh, the scent of his skin drives you wild.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he chuckles low. "I think I love you.."

You look up quickly, your body buzzing with excitation, disbelief daring to poison the beautiful night you've just had. "You.. what?"

His eyes are soft as he cups your face, gently brushes your hair from your face. He studies every feature, committing everything to memory. "I. Love. You." He emphasizes each word with a kiss: on your forehead, nose, lips.

It's the first time you've ever heard it said to you, and the first time you've ever felt it right to say it back. "Joel Miller, I love you too.."

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divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[hunnysnoops]

˗ˋ𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕙 𝕋𝕖𝕖𝕟𝕤ˊ˗

Chapter Two: Favour

Kyle Broflovski x fem reader

I used to think about myself like I was a talented liar.

Also available on Ao3 and Wattpad!

Premise: You’ve been avoiding Kyle like the plague but when tragedy strikes the track team, you find yourself needing to ask him for a favour. You know what you have to do but you don’t want to do it.

Warnings: Vulgar language+humour / underage smoking / injury

MASTERLIST

The weather had gone straight back to shit just like you predicted. You prayed that track practice would be cancelled due to the roaring sky overhead but god ignored you, turning a blind eye and offering nothing more than your coach nagging at you.

Rain wasn't any nicer to run in than overbearing and dry heat, it made you feel like a wet dog every time you had to wring your hair out or shake the droplets off your skin. It was no light sprinkle, the rain pounded down on the ground like bullets. It was so heavy that it felt like pebbles, it wasn't often that it rained in Colorado due to high altitudes but when it did, it came down hard and unwavering.

You had thought it to be a little dangerous running on turf in this weather but coach Dawsey blatantly denied any objections, sending you for another loop around the track the second you had a complaint. You were just glad that you didn't have soccer that day and wouldn't be going home covered head-to-toe in mud.

"What?" Tolkien asks you, it had been a little difficult to hear with his own breathing and the sound of rain on turf while the two of you were running cool-down laps around the outside of the track, it’s not like you needed them with the way you were freezing in the run. It was like coach Dawsey wanted the entire team to get sick, what was supposed to be a cool-down lap was working better to keep you warm.

"I said what time is it?" You repeat your question, using the heel of your palm to wipe your eyes. Each breath, huffing in droplets of rain where they rested on your lips.

"I dunno," He shrugs, "I left my watch in my bag," Everyone had either left their bags in their lockers or cars or like you, had been too lazy to do either and took the menacing odds of putting it under the bleachers and praying that whatever was inside wouldn't face water damage.

You let out a groan, at this point, you couldn't even feel your legs, they had gone numb beneath you. The sky above you was grey, it was only 4:30 in June but it looked like angry clouds had swallowed up the sun. "If the purge ever becomes legal, I'm headed straight for Dawsey." At your words, both you and Tolkien glance to where the pot-bellied coach is, timing the unfortunate guys doing hurdles, over and over again. He really had a way of actively pinning teammates against one another.

"Poor Adam," Tolkien says between heavy breaths. His tee shirt and basketball shorts are plastered against his ebony skin, you aren't much better off; your hair had been weighed down so heavily with water that it kept slipping from what you had tied it up in, so you gave up all hope and let it down to stick on your neck, flyaway hairs glued around your face to frame it. You were far from the point of caring about what you looked like, the only thing on your mind was going home and getting dried off. 

"I would feel bad for him if he wasn't so whiney," On the other side of the track, Adam, a brunette guy in your grade, was extremely muscular for such a lean guy, the perfect build for track. You could've sworn that his parents had put him on steroids as a kid with how defined his muscles were, you had been on the track team with him and Tolkien for six years now. 

Adam wasn't the friendliest but he was fast, so you didn't mind his shortness of conversation as long as he brought another medal to the trophy case. He is clearing the hurdles in comparison to the rest of the guys in the same heat, he made them look like paralyzed turtles. 

Tolkien shrugs "Yeah but we need him to win the relay," The two of you ran past the long jump team, each and every one of them is covered in sand without fail. All of them look uncomfortable, sending you knowing glances. It was an understanding that all of you wanted to drown Coach Dawsey in the steeple chase pit.

You had been wearing Tolkien's hoodie since the rain started, it was definitely slowing you down with the extra weight it had while wet but you preferred to be slower than usual as opposed to having your white tee shirt turn translucent under the rainfall. You tended to stick together during track practice since you were on the mixed relay team together, you also liked to think that you were considered friends; not just because you ran at similar paces but because he enjoyed your company.

Disregarding Tolkien's last statement, you push some hair away from your face "I should've skipped with Red." Red was the fourth person on the mixed relay team, making up for a pretty solid roster though you tended to skip practice when she felt like it.

"I was going to but you begged me to not leave you alone."

"Because I'm not a bum who signs up for extracurriculars and skips them, don't tell her I said that," You retort "I'm trying to be a good influence." You were nearing where the hurdles were set up and Dawsey blew his whistle repeatedly, before flailing his arms rapidly and singling out one boy for having a quarter centimetre of his toe over the starting line.

"If you're trying to be a good influence maybe stop smoking your body weight in cigarettes and weed."

You narrow your eyes, giving him a firm chop in the side of his midriff. His eyes go wide and he stops in his tracks to fold over, one hand clutching where you hit him, the other supporting him on his knee to keep him standing up. "Oh my god," You slap a hand over your mouth, trying to smother a laugh “I did not mean to hit you that hard."

"Nah, you're fine, I just need a second to catch my breath," He takes a deep exhale, waving you off. You stop next to him, standing awkwardly, unsure of what to do so you just wait for him to keep moving. 

"Hey!" A gruff voice calls out, travelling over the tumping rain "Is he dying?"

"No," You answer for Tolkien "He's good."

"Then get back to running!" The balding man screeched, you were surprised that the adhesive of his toupe hadn't fallen loose under the drizzle.

"Fuck you, porky," You say hooking one arm under Tolkiens to try and get the lanky boy to stand back up straight.  

"What was that?" Coach narrows his eyes at you.

"I said 'I'm on it'!" You yell back, lies seeping through the gaps of your teeth. Tolkien shrugs your arm away from him, giving you a quick thumbs up before he carries on with his quick-paced steps, albeit breathing a little heavier. You were sure that Dawsey had to be putting you through some form of child abuse. "What a dickhead," You mutter to Tolkien, eyes still trained on where Dawsey focuses all of his attention on Adam.

"I'm surprised you're not used to him by now," He says "Then again you're not the most tolerant person."

"I'm totally tolerant, I love gay people."

Whatever remark Tolkien was about to say was quickly forgotten when all eyes fell on Adam. The brunette boy's heel had skidded and slipped as he jumped a hurdle, he threw his other leg out to try to catch himself. Instead of landing on the flat of his foot, his heel rolled and he was quickly sent backwards onto another boy, Emmet, Adam's calf bending in unnatural ways against the turf.

Then came the inevitable snap like a plastic ruler, the bone in his calf had broken completely in half. The impact of the stumble caused the ivory to poke through the muscle and fat of his leg. He lay on the wet surface of the track with a sickening cry, Emmet pinned beneath him screaming out in pain. Two up-and-coming track stars down in the span of thirty seconds.

"Adam!" Coach Dawsey sprinted faster than he did to the fridge toward Adam, crumbling to his knees. While the coach was focused on Adam, you were terrified for Emmet. Adam's elbow went straight into his ribs when he tumbled back into him. Emmet was frantically trying to push Adam off of him, which was no easy feat since his entire body was muscle. 

"Fuck!" Emmet finally scrambles out from behind him, keeling over and clutching his torso. Everyone gathers around to watch the mortifying scene, both you and Tolkien stand at a loss for words.

"It'll be okay Adam," Dawsey sounds like he's being brought to tears, if there are any, they're washed away by the rain. He peals off his 'South Park Athletics' baseball cap like he's paying respects to a dead person, the front of his toupe comes up when he raises the hat, unknowingly exposing the peak of his shiny bald head. "We're going to get through this."

Coach tries to brush away some of the hair that had fallen onto Adam's face but the boy quickly slaps his hand away "Don't fucking touch me!" He spits "Someone call an ambulance!" Next to you, Tolkien gags at the sight of the mangled leg and split skin.

"You heard him," Coach Dawsey rises to his feet, trying to ignore the fact that his star runner's bone was sticking out of his leg in a mangled mess "Call an ambulance!" He yells, accusatorily at the group of teenagers in a circle surrounding him. 

"You're the only one with a phone on you, dumb cunt!" You call out from the back of a crowd to be sure he wouldn't scope out it was you who said it. 

He feels around in his pockets and surely, you're right. He made everyone leave their phones in their bags during the duration of practice. He quickly dials 911, while the line rings he looks at the crowd with furrowed eyebrows "Whoever said that, reveal yourself."

Everyone stays silent until an operator picks up on the other end.

After Chrissy drove Emmet to the hospital and Adam was rolled away into the safety of an overpriced ambulance, something else was worrying your mind now that their health was guaranteed- who was going to replace them?

"Tolkien, I have a proposition," You had taken an unnerving b-line away from Heidi and found yourself at Tolkien's table where he sat with the rest of his friends, you were already drowning in axe body spray and aftershave but you needed an impromptu meeting, dragging Red to come with you so you didn't have to face all of that testosterone alone. "Come over here," You swiftly gesture for him to come sit at a vacant table with you and Rebecca.

You spent the entire night wide awake on caffeine pills, trying to figure out who to sub in for Adam. The mixed relay team before he got injured was perfect down to every minute detail, now you were short of your fastest runner, leaving you, Tolkien, and Rebecca to fumble around for a replacement since the coach was mourning the loss of his shooting star, who was indefinitely out for at least six months. It didn't help that Adam had taken Emmet down in the process, now you were missing two great assets.

Tolkien looks back at his friends who watch him with confused and unwavering stares before pushing himself away from the table with a sigh. Leaving his lunch tray behind, he slips into the empty table next to Red and across from you. "Yeah?"

"I need you to ask Kyle to join the track team," You say, though it was difficult enough to humble yourself down into admitting you needed Kyle. He ran faster and more consistently than almost every sprinter on the team, you had plenty of girls to sub in for you and Red though with Adam dragging his sub out with him, you were left with no replacement aside from Spencer Hollis who was the other alternate and opted to go on a road trip with his friends and come back only for exams so he was out of the question with the track meet in two weeks.l

"Kyle?" Red furrows her eyebrows, tone suddenly switching "That's your solution? He's not even on the team."

"He's really fast though," You begin to plead "I've known him forever and trust me, he is one speedy little fucker, I swear on my life."

"Not swearing on much," Red shrugs. 

"Why am I asking him?" Tolkien asks.

"Because you're friends with him," You were on the verge of pulling out the list of pros and cons of having Kyle on the team you had spent Thursday night making. "Guys, I begged the coach to let this slide and it was really embarrassing so can you please ask him? He said that he'll let Kyle join if he comes to the next practice and does well."

"You're at his house all the time, just ask him tonight," Red was nowhere near as invested as you were, hence why she skipped track all of the time. She wasn't worried about getting slow or lazy, she counted Coach Jackson's soccer practices towards track and ultimately figured she didn't need both to stay fit. Red always sent you to track practice with excuses for why she couldn't make it. 

"Why are you at his house all of the time if you hate him so much?" Tolkien sits still, trying to piece together any sense. When you were frantically texting him the night of Adams's stumble, he suggested putting Scott in his place. In your not-so-humble opinion, Scott was way too slow for the 4x100 relay. You scribbled around in your notebook, trying to work out his run times which you meticulously memorised and came to the conclusion that it wouldn't work no matter where you placed him in the relay.

"Because their parents are swingers," She says this with such ease, made sense with how much she teased you about it. You would've complained if you didn't poke fun at her for worse.

"They are not swingers," You address "They are just good friends that hang out a lot and in turn, I have to hang out with Kyle a lot."

Red and Tolkien cast one another a side glance before Red turns her attention back to you. "Do they 'hang out' a lot without you guys around?" She softens her tone in a somewhat condescending way, the same way you would talk down to a child. 

"They're not swingers," You emphasize, choosing to ignore the insinuations of you and Kyle which almost made you gag. "Please, Tolkien, we need this but don't tell him I said that."

"It's not really a proposition if you're just asking me to do something for you," He points out.

"It totally is, it's a plan of action," You say "Action which we need to take so we don't lose or get disqualified," There had been rumours of college scouts attending the track meet and you were in desperate need of getting a scholarship if you didn't want to be in student debt until the day they buried your cold body. 

"Just put Scott in," Red suggests and you give her nothing more than a cold glare.

"Next person who says that is getting anonymously cyberbullied for the next year," You say, pointedly at the two of them before running your hands down your face, nearing defeat "Why did it have to rain?"

"Maybe it was divine intervention," Red says, nonchalantly "I think Dawsey wanted to sleep with Adam or something and that was god saving him from getting molested by a divorced PE teacher." 

"He's weird but I don't think he's a pedophile or anything."

"You two are as fast as him and he doesn't give a shit about you," Red points out, one eyebrow raising slightly "Really think about it." Your mind began to wander to the way Dawsey always had a hand on Adam's back, how he always put him in the most ideal lane, and how he almost cartoonishly sprinted to his rescue when hit leg split.

"Maybe you're right." From the look on his face, you can tell Tolkien is calling back moments of Dawsey being a little too touchy with Adam. 

"Or maybe coach just likes him more because he's a straight white guy and I can safely say the three of us are not," You draw the pair's attention back to you "Point is, he's out, Emmets out, Spencer's out, Scott is not even in question and we need Kyle."

"You need him?" A small smile begins to play on Red's face. In the past couple of years, Red had taken to a more grunge type of style, causing her to look like Kurt Cobain's lost daughter who fell into a vat of bright red hair dye, which was currently growing out, exposing her dark roots.

"Nuh-uh," You say almost instinctively, absentmindedly folding your arms. "I didn't say I need him I said we need him, like collectively because we're totally pwned if we don't coerse Kyle onto the team."

"And we're one hundred percent sure Emmet can't run?" Tolkien asks "I thought he just got hit in the stomach."

"I asked him about it and he told me cracked his ribs and it hurts to breathe or something, I dunno but it's super fucking gay." Your eyes shift to Red "Not in a derogatory way but in a lame-

"Yeah, we know," Tolkien stops you in your tracks. 

"What a pussy," Red says, she isn't really tuned in, she's moved on to watching street fights online while partially listening to the conversation "It always hurts you to breathe and you're still running."

"That's what I said," You exasperate.

"It really shouldn't hurt to breathe," Tolkien says "Might be a little on the nose but you really need to stop smoking."

Red disregards this completely, "Ask Kyle next period or Tolkien could just text him." looking up from her phone to you "Or 1 could just text him." You and Kyle had texted each other a total of six times, this was no exaggeration, it was exactly six times.

Oct 11th, 2020

Kyle Broflovski: Is Ike at your house?

You: Ya

July 21st, 2023

You: Do you know where Kenny is?

Kyle Broflovski: No

Kyle Broflovski: I thought he was with you

You: K he's not

 "I can't ask him, I can't even breathe around him without gagging," You complain "Because authentic gingers have this really specific and pungent smell, like every single one, without fail."

Tolkien eyebrows are raised, wrinkles forming on his forehead "That might be the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"What does a ginger smell like?" Red put her phone face down on the table, suddenly intrigued.

"It's stagnant and a little musty, not like body odour musty but more like an old second-hand bookstore that has mildew and black mold-

"I can't help but feel like we got off topic here," Tolkien abruptly cuts you off again for the second time that day "So can we just agree on Kyle so I can eat my lunch?" At this, you and Red nod, with no sense of disagreement "Okay, cool," The very second Tolkien stands up from the table, the bell begins to shriek, signalling the end of lunch hour. He throws his hands up in exasperation, looking woefully at his unfinished tray of food. 

You had been entirely too stiff when Biology class rolled around, more aware of Kyle's presence than usual. Fate, or perhaps the whims of the teacher, had decreed that you would be seatmates for the remainder of the semester. However, there was no friendship to be found between you, only a simmering animosity that hung in the air like static before a storm.

As the teacher droned on about cell structures and molecular biology, you and Kyle remained steadfast in their resolve to ignore each other's presence. You exchanged no words, no glances, only the occasional rustle of papers or the tap of a pencil against a desk.

Despite your mutual disdain, there was an unspoken understanding between you – a silent agreement to coexist in the same space without acknowledging each other's existence. And so, you buried yourself in their work, diving into the intricacies of biology as if it were a shield against the discomfort of your shared proximity.

You knew what you were supposed to do, but that didn't make it any easier for you to swallow your pride and ask Kyle for a favour. It was hard enough to admit to yourself that you needed him if you wanted to win the mixed relay which you had spent the entire year anticipating. With a deep breath, you replay how you'll ask him over and over again, being sure that you don't sound desperate.

"Kyle, have you ever thought about joining the track-

"Nope," He answers before you can even finish your sentence. Kyle doesn't even look up from his work as he says this, leaving you to stare at the side of his hooked nose before quickly looking down at your paper.

"Okay," you mutter under your breath, you were so quiet that you weren't sure he even heard you. The minutes ticked by, marked only by the rhythmic scratching of pens and the occasional sigh of frustration, you fell back to silence and didn't press him any further. 

"I did everything I could," You greatly over-exaggerate the eleven words you had shared with Kyle in biology like you had gone to war asking him to join the team, in your mind, you had. Now you were picking at a basket of curly fries in a diner where you complained about your excruciating dilemma to your Bebe. 

"Everything?" Bebe quirks an eyebrow, taking a sip of her cherry coke, glossed lips pressing around the red and white straw. When she lifts them, there's a sticky residue of glitter on the straw  "What does this entail?"

"It entails Kyle being a dickhead."

"Yeah, I'm sure," She says, not an ounce of belief in her voice. She leaned back in the red leather booth. Bebe looks beyond beat (for her standards), she haphazardly tied her curly hair into two twin braids, mismatched elastics. She had been wearing nothing more than sweatpants and a tank top when you left her house, forcing you to surrender your hoodie to keep goosebumps away from her bare arms. "Should we go to Clyde's later?"

"Why would we go to Clyde's? It's almost ten," You furrow your eyebrows "I don't really wanna spend my Friday night third wheeling."

"You won't be third wheeling, it's not like we're dating or anything-

"Yeah, but it's worse to third-wheel two horny people who aren't even dating," You had a gut feeling that any day now Clyde and Bebe would become official, Stan was now taking Wendy's time back up, Nichole and Tolkien seeing each other on the low, and you were suspicious of Red and Heidi, now Bebe was going for her elementary spark. All of your friends were abruptly falling in love and no one gave you the memo, leaving you in the dust.

"So what better things did you have planned?" She steals a fry away from you, dragging it through the ketchup.

You shrug "Get high and look at pictures of Snoopy."

"That's more of a thing you do with Red," Bebe said. Despite the statement itself being true, you could tell she was trying to deviate from you to go see her new fling.

"So you're tyna ditch me now to go hang out with Clyde?" You fall short of the amusement that Bebe's trying to portray.

"What? no," She says this like your statement was incredulous "I'm just saying that you would have more fun smoking with Rebecca."

"And you'd have more fun banging Clyde?" You weren't sure if it had been the nagging feeling that all of your friends were leaving you in the dust and making time for better things or the fact that this wouldn't be the first time Bebe cancelled your plans to hang out with someone else but something about this conversation was irking you.

Her face drops "Why are you being a dick?"

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" 

She wouldn't admit to it but it was true. Not that Bebe necessarily had strife with you, more so she tended to fall on the fickle side of things and being around you so much had put her into a rut. "I'm not," Bebe wrangles her mind to sedate this before it blows up "Sorry, can we please just drop this?”

Silence stretches between the two of you, if it weren't for the chatter of other customers and light buzzing of decrepit ceiling lights, it would've been utter stillness. Her icy blue eyes were peering into your soul, your hoodie hanging limp off her narrow shoulders.

You didn't necessarily want to leave it alone, you weren't one to lie down rather than win an argument but today your internal chemistry had been tweaked; for a moment you thought about letting it go, being rational and not provoking, which was so hard since it was what you were so good at. "No," You answer "I don't think we should drop it."

You can see the look of annoyance creep up on Bebe's face "Why?"

"It's better to talk about it-

"This always happens though," Bebe begins "I say something, you say something, and then we don't talk for a month so I don't think it's better to talk about it."

"Maybe there's a reason we fight all the time," you point out. There were at least one hundred reasons why you and Bebe fought all the time, mainly because the two of you fed into each other's agitation, putting the two of you together was like leaving a lit candle in the woods.

"I'm not here to psychoanalyze this, let's just go and get stoned." She pulls the final trick from her sleeve, pot to put this to sleep.

Bebe was the match to your kindling, the fuel to your fire and that's why you had been so off and on with her since middle school, you were like that annoying couple who kept breaking up and then exhausting everyone by getting back together. 

As much as you want to argue until your throat turns dry as sandpaper from yelling, you also want to get high and laugh until your lungs burn. "Sure, okay."

It goes quiet for another minute. Followed by another and another until you both accept that there's nothing more to say, you pay the bill and begin the trek back to your car. While the rain had subsided it was as cold as ever, always an unwelcomed familiarity that came with living in South Park. Even with summer inevitably approaching, the nights were still frigid after rainfall almost to the point where you could see your breath. 

Bebe had stolen your hoodie and left you shivering on the walk to your car. The diner parking was something outrageously complicated where you had to download an app and pay online, to which you were lazy and in being lazy, parked far away in a faraway spot. This had taken far more time to find the spot, park, and walk to the diner than it would've been to get an app and pay the three dollars.

You had clutched the pink bottle of pepper spray that was hooked onto your carabiner tightly in your hand, never too sure of who would try to get one on you while you found your way through the dark streets. 

Finally, after what seemed like a century of stumbling blindly through darkness, you made it to your car, parked in front of a locksmith. The street lamps were dim, you supposed it was nice that you didn't have light pollution in town but you hadn't even noticed the oddity on your car until Bebe pointed it out.

"What's that?" She squints her eyes before turning on her phone flash to inspect. 

There it was, unmistakable in the faint glow of a nearby streetlamp: a bright yellow clamp securing your car's front wheel. "Oh no, no, no!" Your exclamation cut through the eery quiet of the night "Fuck!"

"Oh, shit," Bebe mutters, immediately beginning to rapidly type on her phone, the blue light illuminating her tanned face, you heat the loud ding of a notfication.

Your hands find their way to grip your hair "What the fuck!?" You shout, louder than intended, your voice echoing off the surrounding buildings, the emptiness of the night amplifying your distress. "I don't have any unpaid parking tickets, what the fuck?" You repeat, mind running wild with how your parents would react. Your phone had died a little over a half hour ago so you were choosing to use that as an excuse to delay telling your parents.

"Look, you parked in a bike lane," She gestures out. Surely enough Bebe was right, you had and you were also inexplicably screwed over.

"Why didn't you tell me?" You knew Bebe wasn't to blame for your car being immobilized but a million thoughts were tangling into a jumbled mess inside of your head.

"I didn't see either," She looks up from her phone to where you frantically pace the sidewalk "Not my fault you parked in a fucking bike lane and didn't notice."

Your eye catches a slip of paper wedged into your window shield and immediately you reach for it. 

This notice is to inform you that your vehicle has been clamped due to a violation of parking regulations or outstanding fines. The clamp has been securely attached to your vehicle's wheel, rendering it immobile. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MOVE THE VEHICLE OR REMOVE THE CLAMP.

Reason for Clamping: [illegal parking]

Location of Clamping: [Maplewood Street, v2ah60]

For instructions on release please dial +15392848788

Thank you for your cooperation.

You wave the notice around "Bebe take a picture of this, my phone died and I need the number," To this, she just stares at you blankly "Please!?" You insinuate. Panic is etched clearly across your features.

"Jesus, just relax," The irritation is obvious in her voice as takes a picture with a blinding flash not just of the slip of paper but of you holding the notice, eyes squinting from the sudden bright light and hair messy from nearly ripping it out due to stress. She looks at the picture she took and giggles. 

"Fuck off, can you be serious right now?" You're too busy thinking of all the ways your dad will execute you rather than the harsh tone you were using with your friend. He didn't speak to you for a week when he found out you were on birth control, you couldn't imagine what he would do when he found out that you had a fine. 

"Sorry?" She sounds like she's actually taken offence to your words. "I'm trying not to be stressed since you're two minutes away from tearing your hair out."

"Because you don't have to worry about your dad turning you into taxidermy," To others, this may have sounded ridiculous but you had no doubt in your mind that your father would take such extremities. "Can you please be mature about this?"

Bebe's eyes widen slightly, eyebrows raising "You want me to be mature when all you do is bitch and moan about Kyle like we're in the fourth grade?"

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind it." You snap. You weren't the most rational person, now desperately grasping for someone or something to shift the blame. 

"You can't get all pissed off when this is your fault," Bebe crosses her arms, physically getting defensive, the phone still clutched in one hand "You're the one who parked illegally."

"Because you told me to park in front of the locksmith!" You gesture towards the building you were now arguing in front of. The building itself looked haunted, the run-down locksmith shop stands like a forgotten relic amidst a row of bustling businesses that were kept with the care that this shop was definitely missing. The windows, clouded with grime and dust, offer only glimpses of the dim interior beyond. Some are cracked, their fractured panes held together by strips of weathered tape. The exterior itself was hideous, a bright yellow paint dulled by the passage of time that had orange patterns of keys and locks all over it, a sign above hung that read 'chipper locks' You didn't imagine that they got much business.

"You listened!" She deflects the blame like a game of tennis

 "No, I said I didn't want to park here because it's sketchy and I was scared a crackhead would hide under my car and slash my Achilles tendon when I got back in but you told me to stop bitching about it!"

"You're the only person on earth that would worry about something so fucking irrational, shouldn't you be stressed about finals instead of having nightmares about serial killers you made up in your head?"

"I didn't make it up in my head," You defend "It's all over like everything." It did quickly become a fear of yours since Nichole sent you a video about traffickers hiding under cars and slashing women's tendons, all she said was 'that's crazy lol' but it instilled terror in you and made you glance under your car before getting in no matter where you had left it parked.

"You're insane," She mutters, so quietly that she hadn't expected you to hear. 

Unfortunately for both of you, it didn't fall deaf upon your ears "I'm sorry?"

"It's okay," Bebe waves you off.

"No, I'm not apologizing," You furrow your eyebrows "You just called me insane, what the fuck, Bebe."

"Not in a bad way," Bebe hugs herself to try and fight off the cold. She doesn't seem to grasp the gravity of every word she spat out at you.

"How is there possibly a good way to call someone insane?" 

"I meant you're insane in a wild kind of way, like a party animal," She tries to climb out of the grave she was digging for herself. "Like, wow, this girl's insane," Bebe mimics in a deeper voice, trying to portray some frat guy referring to you like you are the life of the party.

You stare at her, mouth slightly agape as you process the situation. "You know what?"

"What?" Bebe tucks a flyaway strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, her messy twin braids swaying slightly in the wind. 

"You're a fucking cunt," You spit, pointing a finger at her in an accusatory manner, eyes narrowing. The words fell from your mouth like venom puncturing skin. 

Whatever Bebe was expecting you to say it wasn't that. She's genuinely taken aback and it's clear across her face, her eyes widened in disbelief, pupils dilating as if trying to take in the enormity of what she had just heard. The muscles in her jaw slackened, her lips parting slightly in a silent gasp. "Yeah?" She raises her voice "You're a little bitch."

"I don't really care," The two of you had an almost impressive way of taking things from zero to one hundred with little build-up between. 

"Do you care about anything?" Bebe's expression shifted subtly, betraying the undercurrent of annoyance coursing through her. Her lips pressed into a thin line, a silent indication of her displeasure, while her eyebrows drew together in a slight furrow, hinting at the frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

"You'd probably know if you weren't too busy trying to get dicked down by Clyde," You retort, the muscles in your jaw tensing up.

"At least I can get laid, you just wallow around in your own loneliness and get all bitter about happy couples for whatever fucking reason."

You completely breeze past the fact that she's right and scramble for something to say "You wanna be an author and you can't even read the ingredients list on a can of Coke," Though you tried to maintain composure, there was a flicker of impatience in your movements, a subtle stiffness in your posture that spoke volumes.

Her brows arched upwards, forming a perfect curve of incredulity. A flush of colour rose to her cheeks, a telltale sign that you had hurt her. "You're such a dick," Bebe says and a hush settles over you "You know your now a good person, right?"

“And you think you are?" 

For another time, the conversation fell into a lull. For a long while, you stood there in the cold, breath mingling with the frosty air, until a familiar car rolled to a stop right next to yours. It was Clyde's black Chevrolet.

"You texted Clyde?" This might've been what hurt you the most, more than any other sentence uttered that night.

"Yup, sure did,” Bebe turns away from you to open the passenger door "You have a huge pimple on your face by the way, it's literally the only thing I can focus on when I look at you, it's fucking disgusting." 

Your hand reaches for the small bump on your cheekbone on instinct "It's a spider bite, actually," You're correct this fact makes you seem high and mighty "Because I sleep with my window open."

“Oh my god," Bebe mutters, wrinkling her nose. 

"Does she need a ride?" Clyde asks eyebrows furrowed as his eyes shoot between where you stand on the pavement and Bebe climbing into the passenger seat.

"No, she's fine," Bebe answers for you, shutting the door. Inside the car, Clyde says something to her that you can't make out, just muffled mutters. In just seconds you hear the ignition start and watch as he glides down the road.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides as a surge of newfound anger washes over you. As Clyde's car pulled away, disappearing into the darkness with Bebe at the wheel, the cold seeped into your bones, matching the icy chill in your chair as you stood alone on the deserted street.

"You're a fucking asshole, Bebe!" You shout after them though it's futile, you know she can't hear you, but it doesn't stop you from holding up your middle finger and cussing her out. To passersby, it probably looked like you had something in your system "And you're wearing my hoodie!"

You run your hands down your face, nearly scraping the soft skin with your fingernails as you pace around in a small circle. You were left with a car rendered immobile, a dead cellphone, nine dollars on you, and a home forty minutes away in walking distance, better start moving. 

Glancing at your car and the long dark road ahead, you quickly unlocked your car, hopping into the driver's seat and rummaging around in your compartment for a little bit of relief. You dig deep into the console box for a box of stale cigarettes you had forgotten in there, still it was better than nothing. You yank one out and let it rest between two fingers while you bring a lime green lighter to the end to ignite it.

The tip glowed bright orange as you brought it to your lips, inhaling deeply and exhaling a plume of smoke into the cool night air. You lock your car, tucking the lighter and pack of Marlboros into your pocket, snatching the notice from your windshield for the phone number and begin the trek home. 

While it was only an eight-minute drive, the walk was more strenuous. You wished that you had some heavily padded parka to wrap around yourself though you had nothing more than the heat radiating off the end of your cigarette, in your other hand you grasped to the pink bottle of pepper spray for dear life, the car clamp notice tucked under your arm. 

As childish as it was, you found yourself almost fighting back tears, that familiar feeling building in your throat like every awful thing you had ever felt was going to fall through the gaps of your teeth. You were sure that you deserved to be deserted on the damp streets, truthfully you didn't expect Bebe to show you any form of mercy after what you had said to her and you had proved to be correct on the matter. 

It was moments like this where you were sure there was nothing worse than making friends.

Maybe you would be a hermit for a bit, head straight home after track and soccer, then lock yourself away for the summer until you've reinvented yourself into someone a little more agreeable. 

The rhythmic sound of your breath mingled with the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze, the chill of the night air nipped at your cheeks, but you pressed on, fueled by the knowledge that there would be a hot shower waiting for you at home. That almost cancelled out the idea of telling your parents you were getting charged for illegal parking and then explaining a fabricated lie to them that you smelled like tobacco because the man beside you at the diner was smoking. What a delinquent you were. 

As you walked, your thoughts drifted like smoke on the wind, swirling and shifting with each exhale. Memories and worries danced through your mind, fleeting and ephemeral, like wisps of smoke disappearing into the night sky. You were so close to subbing in Scott for the relay even though you had been so opposed to it since it would guarantee a loss but if Tolkien wouldn't ask Kyle then you would have to accept the fact you were bound to lose since you were cursed with a team that only signed up for track to skip school on the day of the meet and hang around the concession stand.

The quiet peace that you had lost in your own thoughts was quickly broken when you picked up on the navy blue car slowing down as it approached you. Your cigarette burns to the filter and you drop it to the ground, smothering the fizzing embers out with your heel as you watch the car for a brief moment before quickly turning and quickening your pace. Praying to every god you didn't believe in that this wouldn't evolve into something more.

When you speed up, so does the car. You're even more aware of your surroundings now, the mace firm in your grip, you kept one thumb on the top preparing yourself for the worst. "Hey!" A gruff voice from the car yells, he rolls his window down, you can't make out his face and you aren't sure that you want to.

This is all it takes for you to move from your fast walk to a run, ignoring the cold air eating away at the tip of your nose and the sharp burning in your lungs. The man from the car yells something else but your heart is pounding too loud for you to hear anything off in the distance.

Your senses suddenly heightened, a prickling sensation crawling up the back of your neck. You felt a surge of unease wash over you as the sound of an engine revving filled the air, growing louder and closer with each passing moment.

Instinctively, you hastened your pace even further, your heart pounding in your chest as you cast a nervous glance over your shoulder. Its headlights pierced the darkness like beacons of warning.

You knew you had to act fast, figuring that whoever was chasing you was the type to slash tendons and the streets were absurdly empty aside from you and the man in the car. With a desperate glance around you, you spotted an alleyway up ahead, a narrow passage shrouded in darkness. Without hesitation, you veered off the main road and plunged into the shadows, heart pounding in your chest as you raced for safety.

With another glance around, you finally stopped to catch a breather, trying to swallow up all of the air you could and think of what to do next, it felt like wild horses were racing through veins in the form of adrenaline. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your shaky breathing seemed to devour every last rational thought you have.

You renavigate your way home, trying to avoid the sketchy road where the man in the car was likely waiting to pull you in. You emerge from the ally on another street, clear of any cars, with a deep sigh, you light another cigarette, leaving you with an empty box that you toss into the nearest garbage. The nicotine had soothed you, the notice was now crumpled up into your pocket wedged next to your dead cell phone and your carabiner hung off one of your fingers, keys and mace clattering against one another.

Still, you were anxious despite the cigarette smoke loosening your tightly wound nerves just a little. You stayed hyper-aware of everything around you, walking as fast as you could before it classified as a run and being sure to remain silent so you could hear everything around you.

"Wait, man!" You hear a voice off in the distance and turn to see that navy blue car once again. You were ready to take off until you noticed something in the dim light of the street lamps. The face of a guy around your age, a straight nose and dark hair, Stan Marsh.

You pause as the car pulls beside you and you see the other faces in the car, in the back sit Cartman and Kenny, in the passenger seat is Stan's right-hand man and your least favourite person, Kyle. "Oh my god, I thought you were a pedophile!" Your voice picks up with agitation.

"Why?"

"Because you fucking trailed me with your car at night and yelled at me on an empty street!” You look past Kyle and directly at Stan where he sits by the wheel. You take one more long drag of your cigarette before snubbing it out on the pavement. Kyle wrinkles his nose at the smell "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He gives Kyle a little nervous glance before looking at you "Wendy said something happened with Bebe and we saw you and figured-

"That you would make me think I was going to get kidnapped?" You almost want to drag him out of his seat and sucker punch you for scaring you so badly.

"Hey," Kenny chimes in from the back, he's smiling at you, a fresh scrape across his left cheekbone. "I texted you and you didn't answer."

"So-uh, do you want a ride?" Stan asks "Because you'll get kidnapped for real if you keep walking."

"We don't have room," Cartman adds where he sits behind Kyle, stretching his legs out with what little space Kyle had given him. 

"Because you're taking all of it up fatass," Kenny points out "Sit in the front."

"I don't want to be in the same car as a junkie, she'll probably stick us with needles and get us all addicted to heroin." Cartman was well bundled up on this chilly night, a grey hoodie and flannel hanging overtop.

Stan ignores this comment "So?"

You think through Stan's offer, even though it was a nightmare situation to be stuck in a vehicle with Cartman and Kyle he was likely right when he said you would get kidnapped for real. South Park wasn't the safest town despite how it was portrayed on travel pamphlets and blogs. While the residential area was good for kids to play in, the main streets were a little crude. "Yeah, sure," You mutter "Please."

Cartman lets out a loud groan as the boys reorganize themselves to accommodate you. Kyle ducks out of the passenger seat and out into the chilly night, to your surprise, he isn't wearing his hat, his red curls hanging loose. Cartman hauls himself into the passenger seat, uttering complaints the entire time.

You wait for Kyle to clamour into the backseat but he doesn't, he just stands by the open door, waiting expectedly for you to get in. When you realize that you're meant to be sitting in the middle you almost want to protest but decide against it, Stan was being nice enough offering you a ride when you barely knew him aside from being Wendy's boyfriend. 

The very second you buckle into the backseat, Cartman begins to cough dramatically. He's heaving on nothing, exaggerating the slight smokey smell that lingered on you. He claws at his throat "It's so hard to breathe," He mumbles like he's choking.

This must be what hell feels like. 

“Why were you walking?" Kenny breaks up the sound of Eric wheezing. Wordlessly, you reach for the crumpled slip of paper in your pocket and smooth it out as much as possible over one of your thighs before handing it to him. His eyes visibly brighten as he reads it a small smile splitting across his face "Illegal parking," he lets out a low whistle "I love myself a lawbreaker," He hands the notice back to you.

Kyle subtly looks down at the paper, he didn't finish reading it before you fold it up and tuck it back into your pocket. He's interested but he won't admit it, so instead of pressing the matter, he trains his eyes to watch the concrete sidewalk roll by out of the window. 

You're crammed between the two, your thighs touching theirs, Kyle tries to make himself as small as possible while Kenny carelessly man-spreads, his leg almost overlapping yours. "How long are you going to be grounded for that one?" Kenny asks.

"I'm trying to get it settled without them finding out," With aptitude you peek at Kyle whose eyes meet yours before deviating. You didn't think he would go snitching on you but it still worried you. He had far more blackmail over you than you had on him, you were still clinging to things he did in freshman year while it seemed that every month you had a new secret to keep from your parents. 

"Good luck with that," He says, also staring out the window though he didn't do it to avoid you "You got the money to pay for the fine?"

You find yourself glimpsing back at Kyle, using this question as a scapegoat to clear yourself before he even gets the idea of telling either of your parents "Yes and I will pay the fine as soon as possible, from this point moving forward I am going to be a law-abiding citizen, I vow to never park in a bike lane again and not to steal prozac from my dad," You indirectly address Kyle, he can tell what you're trying to do based on the way you keep shifting your eyes to look at him. Kyle looks at you, he doesn't say anything but you understand him clearly 'What the fuck are you doing?'

"Okay?" Kenny says, sounding confused "That's cool, I guess, good for you."

"Hide your Advil, Stan," Cartman peeps up, watching you from the rearview mirror "Crash is on a crime spree, she might steal your mom's jewelry for drug money too.”

Growing too tired to say something snarky in return, you just lean back in your seat, eyes half-lidded as you listen to Cartman besmirch you. Everyone in the car had accepted this to be a regular occurrence. At first, when everyone in your grade greeted you by calling you Junkie, Crackhead or something along that line you wanted to hug your mom and cry but you quickly grew desensitized to it after two weeks, it just felt like another nickname.

Stan cranks his stereo up to drown out Cartman's incoherent complaints. It's some metal band that you had never heard before playing faintly while Kenny shows you pictures of his roster on his cheap phone that he had spent two paycheques purchasing. "So where were you guys headed before you picked me up?" You ask, purely to try and make polite conversation, feeling immensely out of place with the four of them all together.

"We were going to Stans for game night," Kenny says, still scrolling through his stickers on Snapchat "You wanna come?" Truthfully you hadn't been hanging out with Kenny as much as you used to, you still smoked pot every now and then but it was rare for the two of you to sit down and actually do something together or go out somewhere. You were too preoccupied with track and soccer and all of your friend's drama, their secrets piling on you like fines.

Cartman whips his head around to look at Kenny with fury in his eyes. "Nah," You draw out, scrambling for an excuse "I should probably just go home and repent for my crimes against the state."

"Kinda hot," Kenny nods absentmindedly.

Conversation faltered as you struggled to find common ground, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between you. Every attempt at small talk fell flat, each joke met with forced laughter that only served to highlight the awkwardness of the situation. You could've sworn you were more socialized than you were acting. “Man, I love track and field, what an incredible sport to have on a college application,” This time you aren’t as discreet with your subliminal messaging to Kyle, turning your head to look at him completely. He doesn’t say anything.

With each passing mile, the silence grew more suffocating, pressing in on them like a heavy blanket. You fidgeted nervously, your eyes darting from one face to another as you searched for an escape from the uncomfortable tension.

Stan sped over a speed bump, you reached your hands out to grab something on instinct, hand gracing Kyle's leg for the briefest moment, still you retract it and look at him in horror. 

Clasping your hands together in your lap you anticipate each passing second as Stan neared your street you felt relief wash over you like a baptism. "Right here," You say and Stan slows the car by your front yard, the lights are on in your home casting a warm glow into the velvety black night. 

Before the car even comes to a full stop, Kyle opens the door, wanting this to be over as bad as you do. With haste, he unbuckled his seatbelt and took a step out with his lanky legs. His green eyes watch your every move while you shimmy out of the middle seat, taking in a deep breath of clean air that didn't smell like car freshener and body spray. "Thanks for the ride," You give Stan a tight-lipped smile, ready to walk away until Kyle opens his mouth.

"When's the next track practice?"

"What?" You furrow your eyebrows "You're joining?"

"Yeah, Tolkien asked me to," He says and the space between you fills with silence.

The soft expression on your face quickly morphs into something a little more vicious "So Tolkien asks you to join and you jump at the chance?" You say, snarky.

Kyle seems unphased "I actually like Tolkien."

"Yeah, I know, You probably explore each other's bodies." You brush past him fighting the urge to just walk into your house, maybe it was because someone had replaced your calcium with mercury or you were just tired but today someone had messed with your internal chemistry "Uh, thanks though, it's on Tuesday." Finally, you had gotten that win you were chasing all day.

A/N: oml sorry this took so long, I had no idea where the plot was going but we’re good now so the other chapters won’t take so long.

[pedrito-friskito]

// track 1 - fortnight //

-> welcome officially to TTWD! (kay’s version). first on our track list is some sweet, smutty lovin’ from my favourite lover boy, marcus pike🤍

word count: 2.5k

warnings: drinking, meet-cute, unprotected p-in-v (wrap it before u tap it), marcus is a pleasure dom we all know this, kay knows nothing about the FBI LOL

Marcus has always hated paperwork. Finds it tedious, though he knows it’s necessary, but he loathes it, much preferring to celebrate a job well done than to rehash his assignment alone in his office.

It’s that exact hatred that had him sneaking out of the building, heading in the direction of the bar not far from his temporary workplace, one he’d visited earlier in the week with a few friends.

He’s only here for a few weeks, two to be exact. And with the way things are going, he has a feeling he’ll be heading back to Washington earlier than anticipated. He doesn’t mind the travel, it’s always been a perk of the job, though he knows it’s probably part of the reason he has yet to settle down.

After the fiasco in Austin with Robin, he’d sworn off dating for a while. Washington was a fresh start in every sense, but no sooner had he unpacked his bag, they were sending him to Maine on a job, then to Seattle, then Colorado, then Tulsa, the list went on and on. For a stretch of at least four months, he hadn’t even set foot in his apartment, living out of a bag and becoming far too accustomed to sleeping on those godawful chairs in the airport.

Seattle had been a highlight, however.

You were the commanding officer of your division, as much of an art geek as Marcus, and damn good at your job. Marcus had fallen easily into step beside you, and his week-long visit was shorted to a weekend after your success, but he found himself lingering, hesitant to tell his own CO that the job was done. He knew the news would make its way up the flagpole regardless, but he wanted to stay.

Wanted to know you better.

You let him, the pair of you starting with a dinner that was so full of conversation that you didn’t realize the place was closing until your polite-as-hell waiter gently suggested you head across the street to a 24-hour diner with the best cup of coffee in the city. You’d headed over, Marcus holding an umbrella over you both against the sudden downpour.

He lost count of the cups of coffee, enraptured by the way your hand kept inching closer to his on the tabletop, how your gaze flickered between his mouth and his eyes. On a whim, he reached out, curling his fingers around yours and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

The rain outside had thinned to a drizzle, and he leaned across the table. “You wanna get out of here?”

It was you who ended up taking him home, to the small house near the coast you called home. “Much nicer than whatever hotel they have you in, I can guarantee,” you commented as you fumbled with the lock.

The moment you were over the threshold, he had your face in his hands and was brushing his mouth over yours, the taste of coffee lingering on both your tongues, Marcus stepping forward so you would step back, until your shoulders hit the wall and he could press himself against you.

You took him to bed, and called in the next day, more content to spend the day with him. You didn’t leave the bedroom much, and the week progressed like that, wrapped up in sex and conversation and coffee, until Marcus’s phone rang and the bubble popped.

“We need you in Colorado. Your flight leaves in four hours.”

He saw it move through your face, then you shrugged and said, “It’s the job. I get it.”

He didn’t want to leave. But he had to. You said over and over that you understood, and when he asked if you could stay in touch, that maybe this could work, your eyes clouded.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Marcus.”

Crushed, he got himself drunk in the airport bar, and by morning, he had a new assignment, and knew he had to put you behind him.

Fate, however, seems to have another plan in mind.

Stepping into the bar, he sighs, heading toward the same stool he’d occupied a few nights ago, when a familiar face catches his eye. His heart stutters in his chest as he reaches his seat, letting his suit jacket slide off his shoulders.

Your hair is shorter than he remembers — maybe a trim, maybe his mind is playing tricks on him — but the rest is the same. Better, somehow, like a restored painting in his mind as he drinks you in again like it’s the first time. Perched at the bar, your fingers curled around a glass, one heeled foot floating in the air. 

He recognizes those heels. He took you out for dinner another night in Seattle, and when you got home that night, he told you to keep them on. And you did. He felt the marks in his back for weeks, but it was worth it.

He orders a scotch, knowing he’s going to need more than a little courage. But how is he going to play this? What’s the best way to—

“Marcus?”

You’ve made the decision for him, your excited gaze meeting his across the few stools separating you. There’s a light in your eyes he remembers, knows you’ve probably had more than one drink, and that your next will be water. You had a system, he remembers you telling him.

The bartender slides him his drink, and Marcus takes it over to where you’re sitting, sinking into the stool beside you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

You grin wider. “Of all the gin joints in all the world…”

His heart does that stuttering thing again. “You finally watched Casablanca?”

“I did,” you reply, nodding, looking up at him through your lashes. “Cried like a baby.”

“Told you.” Tossing back some of his scotch, he signals the bartender to bring you a water. “I can’t believe it.”

You’re still smiling, your head cocked slightly to the side. “You know, I had the strangest feeling I was going to run into you? It sounds insane, I’m sure.”

“Not insane,” he shakes his head, setting his glass down inches from yours. If he straightened his fingers, he could brush the tips along yours. “I’m calling it fate.”

“Fate?”

He nods, taking a healthy sip of his drink. Liquid courage. “I’ve been wanting to call you since I left Seattle.”

You scoff. “It’s been three months, Marcus.”

He leans forward, contemplating putting his hand on your knee but thinking better of it. “I know, and I feel awful. I just…didn’t know what to say. When I left, it didn’t exactly sound like you wanted to hear from me again.”

“I didn’t,” you say bluntly, sipping your drink and mumbling thank you as the bartender brings you your water. “It wasn’t going to work; we both knew that.”

“And yet, here we are.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Fate, huh?”

The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Or something like it. I’ve missed you. A week wasn’t nearly long enough.”

Your gaze meets his and lingers, flickering between his mouth and his eyes. “How long are you in town for?”

“Two weeks,” he answers. “Maybe less. I’m on assignment, but I plan to stay right through. Been slacking on my paperwork. Then once I get back to Washington, I’m hoping to stay in one spot for a while. What about you?”

“Two weeks,” you echo, and he grins.

“Fate, I tell you.”

“We shouldn’t do this again,” you say, leaning back slightly, your brow pinching. “Rekindle what we had just to have it pulled away again? It isn’t fair, Marcus.”

Defeat sinks onto him like a weighted blanket around his shoulders, and he tosses back the rest of his drink, the glass feeling like lead in his hand. “You’re right, it’s not—”

“We shouldn’t,” you cut him off, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Before he can get another word out, you’ve got your fingers curled around his tie, tugging him down your level. Your lips are soft, tasting faintly of lime and mint, and Marcus can’t help himself. His free hand dives into your hair, fingers locking around the strands, tugging until your lips part against his and he can kiss you more thoroughly, tongue stroking yours.

You pull back with a soft moan, still gripping his tie. “You wanna get out of here?”

Twenty minutes later, he’s pushing the door of his hotel room open, your fingers linked together. 

“Don’t mind the mess,” he starts, but barely gets the words out as the door shuts behind you. It’s his back that hits the wall, a low grunt falling past his lips as you tug on his tie again, using it as leverage to drag yourself closer, closing the distance between your bodies.

Marcus groans as you fit your face into his neck, teeth scraping his pulse as his hands find homes on your hips. Clothes start to fall away, landing in puddles of fabric on the floor until you’re both bare and falling into his unmade bed together. He lays you out on your back, trails kisses right down the front of you, over each hip and along the inside of your thigh. He doesn’t stop until you’re keening, back arching and one hand locked in his hair.

You’re soaked when he strokes his fingers along you, his name sung like a prayer when he presses them inside you. “Fuck,” he grits, curling up and dragging slow, watching the way your body reacts, the way it shapes to him. “Just as tight as I remember.”

You whimper, head falling back as he pushes deeper, seeking out that rough patch inside you, remembering how it made you fall apart before. The hand not in his hair shoots down, fingers wrapped around his wrist, forcing him deeper.

He lowers himself, kneeling at the edge of the bed, surveying how you’re spread out before him, your knee hooked over his arm. “Look at you,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your thigh again. He can feel your muscles twitch, see the way your breath chokes out. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

Body writhing, your head lifts just enough for your eyes to meet.

“More.”

He’s more than happy to oblige, lowering his mouth to your cunt, laving his tongue around the place you’re split around his fingers. You moan loudly, one hand clapping over your mouth a moment later, and he snakes his free hand up your chest, squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple between his knuckles.

“I want to hear you,” he mumbles against you, moving up ever so slightly to suck your clit between his lips. It makes your whole body go tighter than sin, bearing down on his fingers as your breath hitches. He doesn’t stop, swirling his tongue against your clit, releasing it only to lap at you over and over, his fingers never stopping until you go tighter still, every muscle going taut as you cum, his name moaned over and over until your body starts to go lax.

He pulls his fingers from you slowly, still tonguing at your cunt as he does, pulling away only when you push lightly at his head. He stands slowly, cock hard as a rock against his stomach, and watches your eyes roam up his body as he licks his fingers clean.

“Come here,” you beckon as he leans over the bed, planting a hand on either side of you. Your hand curls around the back of his neck, pulling him close. “I still need more, Marcus.”

He doesn’t make you wait long, using his knees to spread your thighs further. His cock taps against your cunt as he lowers his body to yours, and you gasp, finding his mouth with yours. He drinks down your noises as he presses himself inside of you, the pleasure snaking down his spine like a memory.

He’ll be the first to admit that this is what he’s thought of these last three months. You, underneath him, your body soft and pliant and his. It hasn’t been far from his mind, playing like a movie in his mind whenever he’s taken care of himself.

But just like seeing you again in the bar, this is another thing entirely.

Your body accepts everything he has to offer, your heels hooking around his calves, hips rocking up into his. You’re still so fucking tight, and he knows he’s not going to last long, knows that’s why he made sure you came first.

The room fills with the sound of skin-on-skin, with your breathy moans and his quiet grunts. You hook one hand under his ribs, the other finding the back of his head and tugging at his hair, putting your gaze to his. “I want to hear you, too,” you tell him, a sly smile on your face, and he nearly cums on the spot.

He didn’t need the permission, but it unlocks him all the same, the quiet grunts growing louder until he’s all but growling your name in your ear, fitting his face into your neck and biting down as he feels the pleasure coil tighter and tighter until he knows he’s about to cum.

It starts to rip its way through him, and he pulls himself from you, painting the crease of your thigh with his cum, chest heaving. You watch him, eyes darting between his face and his twitching cock. The look on your face tells him you have other plans for him.

Good, because he’s got other plans for you, too.

And fuck the two weeks, he’s not letting you go again.

As you both come down, Marcus having retrieved a cloth from the bathroom to clean you up, both of you sharing. a glass of water, your face turns sheepish as you hand him back the water. “What is it?”

Your mouth opens, closes, and then opens again. “You know how I said I thought I was going to run into you earlier? I think the reason I was feeling that…was because I’ve been meaning to call you, too. Since you left, I wanted to call you, and then something happened and I just…”

“What happened?” he asks, sinking onto the bed beside where you’re laid out, pillow bunched under your arm, head tilted into your hand.

“I got a job offer,” you say, and before he can congratulate you, you lift a hand. “I got a job offer, and you were the first person I wanted to call, but I wasn’t sure if I should. Because it’s been three months and you’re amazing and I kept telling myself you found someone else and that was why you never called. But then I got this job offer, and I…”

You trail off, shaking your head, staring him down. “What’s the job, sweet thing?” he asks, reaching out and putting his hand on your leg, covered by the blanket.

The sheepishness disappears and you grin. “It’s in Washington.”

// TTWD track list //

[bigtreefest]

Chapter 1: Breakin’ Up With a Broken Heart

From: Bigger Houses Series

Pairing: (Future) Mountain Ranger! Ari Levinson x Reader, mentions of past ex x reader

Summary: A year after a breakup that left you shattered, you’re ready to start life anew in your secluded Colorado mountain cabin. Just when you swear off love is when a new beast crosses your path.

Word Count: 1,896

Content/Warnings: Mentions of heartbreak, in-depth description of a breakup and feelings regarding that, safe driving in juxtaposition to a reckless person, deep introspection, enjoyment of mountain cabin vibes, lmk if I missed any

Author’s Note: This serves as a lot of exposition for what I hope will be a very lovey story; everyone knows you’ll probably face some heartbreak first. Also, yes, this is heavily based on my first heartbreak. What about it? Anyway, please enjoy the start of this long-anticipated fic. Likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are appreciated more than you know. And in case you didn’t hear it yet today, I love you.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

I STRONGLY suggest listening to this song, not just because it’ll help get across the vibes I’d like, but also because it’s a really good song.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Next >

Your break-up

It’s been months since you walked out on him and left town in a cloud of dust. It didn’t end well, but you’d be lying if you said you thought he was right for you.

One year ago

It ended in a text. Nine months gone in a text.

I’m done.

To which you responded: You mean our relationship? Ok.

It was honestly a relief. You had been looking for a way out, but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Maybe a part of you wondered if someone would ever want you that much again, even though he only ever showed it in words and not action. Your head was okay with the situation, but it seemed your heart didn’t get the memo. Even though it ended by what you considered a mutual agreement (if that’s what you call him dumping you over you not visiting on a weekend you were spending with your family since he didn’t prioritize anyone’s time but his own), it still hurt. Three days later, he posted a pic with a new girl and a new car the same price as the ring you two had looked at.

He was a textbook narcissist with mommy issues, how’d they always find you? It was the kind of relationship where three months in, you should’ve ended it, but stuck around for another six. It was full of late-night calls, but not even the good ones. These were the ones that happened because he never seemed to have time for you during the day. The attention seemed good at first, but the calls would leave you tired the next morning, unable to get up as early as you wanted to so you could be productive. And you couldn’t talk to your mom and sister about it. They hated him. They saw through his selfish behavior before you and you wish you would’ve listened before giving him everything you could, which still wasn’t enough.

He said he wanted to get married hardly a month in because he loved everything about you. At first, you thought it was a joke, but the more he said it, the more you somehow convinced yourself that was what you wanted, too, but it could not have been more far from the truth. You wanted a happy life with a partner, but not like that and not that fast. Well, was it too fast? Or did it just feel that way because it was with the wrong person? Plus, it was less of a partnership, and more of a continuous compromise put on your part. Either way, as time went on, you realized that every small conversation was leading to a fight and your work and other relationships were suffering from the time he expected of you, but never returned. All he did was expect you to give, not holding himself to that same standard, but for some reason, you kept holding on. You had even looked at rings, not committing, though, because he knew you’d want him to speak to your mother first and she would never go for it. So, the relationship continued to drag on until he got upset since you said no to him one too many times.

But that was so long ago now. You did your time crying, listening to all the sad songs, wondering where you could have possibly gone wrong until you had enough. The only thing you really did wrong was not trust your instincts. You went too far following his heart and not far enough with your own mind. Love can be cerebral, right? It should be. There was no reason to feel sorry for yourself, you were better off and doing all the things you wanted that he’d held you back from before. He had very evidently moved on, and so could you. Sick of feeling down in a town that only reminded you of heartbreak, you found what you needed right now: a new job and an open Zillow posting you’d been watching for forever: your ticket out.

You were taking a vacation to your brand new start, tears long gone and dried with the wind that blew through your hair as you drove through the wooded mountainside. The sun was warm on your face, all loneliness was left in the darkness you left behind. Boxes and bags graciously organized by your mom filled the back of your SUV, and her’s sat just as full, driving behind you up the mountain passes. Before you’d gotten up here, the two of you had stopped at the last gas station, filling up your cars, getting a couple snacks, and stretching your legs before the final couple miles upward. Standing outside your cars gassing up, she looked over to you.

“Hey, just a reminder to be careful in the mountains. You don’t know what’s up there. Mountain lions, bears, snakes.”

“Oh my” you said giggling at your own Wizard of Oz reference.

She smiled and rolled her eyes at you “haha, very funny, but I’m serious. Not just about living there, but driving, too. You never know when a deer could jump out.”

You’d heard this a thousand times, being from wooded, albeit less dense, areas before. Plus, your mom was always concerned about you. Perks of growing up with a dad who was never really present. All of her focus could go to you. Never seeing a proper model relationship was probably half of the reason you had gotten into this mess, too, but you’d never blame that. She’d given you all she could and done a darn good job raising a driven, successful daughter (in every aspect except romance). You were eternally grateful for her support of moving where you had always wanted. It was honestly the perfect opportunity. Once the pumps clicked and the gas was finished, you both prepared to hop back into your cars.

“And remember, don’t talk to strangers.”

“Mom, we’re driving. I doubt we’ll run into anyone else up there.”

She shrugged and you responded with a small smirk, shaking your head as you put the keys in the ignition.

Back to driving higher and higher in elevation, you were drumming your fingers on the dashboard to the songs on the radio that you had blasting. Benefit of driving alone: no interrupted music. As you kept going, the road was becoming narrower and windier, pairing with the dimming afternoon sun. As you were rounding a big bend, you saw something step out into the road and you immediately swerved around it to avoid crashing, pulling over onto the side right after. What was that? A bear? A deer? No, not a deer, too tall. Your mom pulled over right behind you and rolled down her window as you got out of the car and walked back to hers to fill her in.

“What happened?”

“Something stepped out into the road. I’m not sure what it was.” A tall man with cascading brown hair and a full, fitting beard stepped into your vision through your mom’s passenger window. “Or should I say someone. I’m gonna go talk to him, make sure he’s okay.”

“Alright, kiddo. Be careful, though. I’ll be right here.”

You stood up from leaning against your mom’s driver side door and made your way around the front of the car, your eyes drifting upwards from the ground to a narrow waist and broad shoulders, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, eventually meeting with the most gorgeous pair of ocean blues. All these features belonged to the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, but that didn’t excuse the fact that he ran out into the middle of the road and could’ve killed either of you.

Caught off guard by the whole situation, your brain defaulted to panic and defensive mode.

“Oh my gosh! I thought you were a bear! I almost hit you!”

The man looked at you with wide eyes and simply blinked, unable to form a response until he stuttered out

“I-it’s really my fault. I’m not sure what I was thinking.”

Even when evidently distracted and out of it, he was still insanely attractive, making you grow more anxious by the second under his intense stare and scrutinization as he continued to stand there, taking you in and then catching himself and looking anywhere else. You were self-conscious of your hair that was tucked under a beanie to combat the cold mountain air and likely disheveled from your long day. He was obviously in a state where arguing wouldn’t benefit either of you, and honestly, you were in the same boat, ready to get to your new home and start unpacking. The sun was starting to set already and you definitely didn’t want to be out after dark, plus you knew the exhaustion from the drive would be catching up soon.

“Um, it’s ok, I just think you need to be more careful next time. Listen, I don’t wanna be pulled over on this stretch of road for too long, God forbid a real bear, or someone without good reflexes comes around, but, I’m glad you’re not hurt. Take care.”

Wanting to avoid any more awkward interactions and the opportunity of embarrassing yourself in front of an adonis, you rushed back to your car and started back up the mountain. You could see the image of the man in your side mirror getting smaller, his gaze still fixed on your car, until you turned and lost sight of him.

Once you pulled into your new home, your mom met you with a suitcase, ready to take the stairs to the entrance.

“Well he was cute, albeit a little reckless. Wonder what was going on”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever see him again, though. Maybe that’s for the best. I don’t need to make a habit of almost hitting things when driving around up here.”

You unlocked the door and held it open for your mom as she walked in and turned back to look at you. “Well, by the looks of how small this town is, you might. And once you figure out whatever’s going on in his head, maybe he’ll be a nice new friend to have up here.”

“Um, yeah, I guess. Maybe. After all this time, I think I’ll need a friend. Someone to restore my hope for humanity.”

You tried to lighten the mood regarding your distaste for others that had grown from feeling so deeply betrayed and your mom gave a knowing glance in response. But it seemed there was something more to it. It was knowing in more ways than one, hardly noticeable, as you turned to go get another load to bring in from the trunk.

Your mind raced with thoughts of having to get all of this junk into the house. You stepped out into the crisp mountain air, admiring the deepening blue sky and unobstructed stars, the darkness in contrast to the way your mood had brightened slowly from something similarly dark over the past year, becoming more like the stars that glowed in the beautiful night ski. As you trotted down the stairs, your tried to convince yourself that being here was going to be everything you hoped for yourself and your future ticket to happiness. That the last thing on your mind was love.

Next >

[theetherealbloom]

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 7

Chapter Seven: Let's Stay the Course and Let the Tension Make Us New

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, LOTS OF ANGST IM SORRY, TW: Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 6.5k

A/N: HI THANK YOU, GUYS, FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT ILY SO MUCH AHHHHHH ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ This chapter is gonna merge with Episodes 7 & 8 hORRAY— Lowkey had to turn to the game for a bit to figure out how I wanted to write this chapter hehe. Please note this chapter is a little bit more serious and heavy than usual. The names used here are fictional and I have no intent to post this chapter to glorify any form of harm. Rape and sexual assault will always be serious topics and should never be taken lightly. This is your final warning to read at your own risk and I am not responsible for any media you consume, dear reader, you have a responsibility and choice as to what content you read, and I urge you to never blame authors for that. As always, the end notes will have the outline of my thoughts if you wanted to read what my thought process was. ANYWAYS ENJOY! GOGOGOGOGOGOGO!

Song: Would've, Could've, Should've by Taylor Swift

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TLOU WORLD 2023

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO – EARLY MORNING

Snowflakes fell from the pale clouds, chilly sky as a crisp wind weaved through the buildings. The bitterness of winter, whalebone-white snow presented itself as an infinite blanket. The gravel-grey skies were bare, and the only sound you could occasionally hear was Joel’s uneven breathing. You had told her to leave you. Ellie didn’t accept that, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing either of you. She dragged both of your bodies next to each other on top of his sleeping bag, strapping and securing you together with rope as she rides her horse into the suburbs, dragging the reigns of your horse.

You managed to close your eyes for a bit, your vision getting a little blurry, and everything seems hazy, you hear the shattering of glass and when you open them again, you are now inside someone’s long-forgotten home. The garage is soaked with blood, and your horse shakes off snow from his head. You and Joel are placed on an old mattress in the basement of the house, as the pain had started to sink in. Breathing becomes a chore in itself. Each breath just gets shorter and shorter, when you try to take a deep breath your body refuses to let it in, a stabbing pain each time you try. Ellie is ripping out a piece of fabric, doing her best to stop Joel’s bleeding, she curses the whole time, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on, you gotta help me. Come on!” While doing so, Joel grabs her hand and painfully wheezes, “Leave. Leave.” Her tone is sharp as she hisses, “Shut up, Joel.” You try and say her name, only for a painful noise to come out of your mouth, “Ellie. Please.” She shakes her head at both of you and Joel breathlessly says, “Take the gun.” Panicked, while trying to multitask as she presses another cloth to your abdomen, “Joel, shut the fuck up!”

Joel grabs her by the collar of her shirt with the remaining strength that he had to bring Ellie to look at him, he weakly says, “You go. You go. You go north. You go to Tommy. You go.” She roughly pulls away from his grasp, falling to the ground with a loud thump. You turn your head to look at Joel who was bleeding out next to you. You can see the tears rimming his eyes, and he's almost comatose. Frail, you grab his hand, squeezing it as you tenderly gaze at him.

In response, she gets up and puts his jacket over him and your own as a blanket, and both of you are almost comatose. The warmth of blankets makes him nervous, suddenly things that are known to comfort him become destructive reminders of loss. Ellie's frustrated and walks upstairs, a kid on a mission, her belief that she could fix this over time, as if every imperfection is a lie, and you watch as a tear falls from Joel’s eye. Each breath you take is agonizing, the sharp stab each time you try to let in causes you to whimper in pain. You feel Joel’s rough hands squeeze your own, still trying to shield and protect you, despite him also hurting.

You see the longing in his eyes as he faces you, and you can’t quite put your finger on it. There’s just something about his face that makes you sad, as much afraid as it’s haunted. He shakily wraps his arm around you and tries his damn hardest to put pressure on your wound even though his energy is fading. You place your head on his chest, your ear right above his faint beating heart, he winces but doesn’t push you away. Instead, he gripped you as tightly as he could, pressing a featherlight kiss on your forehead, mumbling, “Tell me somethin’ good.” You shake your head, “You growin’ soft on me Cowboy?” His eyelids feel heavy as he spoke, “Only for… you. Always you.” You feel your tears slip faintly down your cheeks, “Out of all the things I’ve researched and discovered over the years… nothing will ever compare to what I found here.” The ache in his chest expands as he inhales and says, “Birdie… I…” You shush him delicately, “I’ve never related more to anything or anyone before… I can’t explain it. You are the best thing I never planned.”

Joel shudders in the basement, his breathing becoming shallow with each breath. Wave after wave, he’s more afraid. It’s been a hard year and it’s been a high tide, but his body decides one part at a time. But what about the meantime? How do you ignore the signs that the things you love will fade or get taken away? There's something so strange about human nature, you get so used to the gifts you receive. He is watching the tears slowly continue to slip out of your eyes as he breathes lightly next to you, he still has so much he wants to tell you and still has so much to figure out. When the words came to him for the first time, he knew he was hooked on you. Your quiet charm, the way your eyes crinkled as you smiled, the calmness and chaos you carried. He wanted it all with you. Could it be, you both didn’t stand a chance? How cruel could fate be? To have found you only to lose you in a matter of days.

What was flawless canvas white, and what was kindness in your eyes, is now a blemished masterpiece. You are X-rays of something broken, made up of cold blood and bruises. You noticed your hearing started to fade. In an underwater afterimage, the hearing effect is just a bit less heavy. As time went on the underwater hearing effect started becoming more strong and you barely start hearing people. Into the darkness, you will send your symphonies. A shorthand of existence, a slowly turning key, the voyager will leave you with this modest memory of home.

You believe you’ve seen a ghost, and you don’t know who it is. It just follows you around pretending to exist. Radical acceptance sure feels like surrender, but after just a little longer, everything will make sense. Broken things will be remade, there’s some kind of heaven just around the corner and all this sorrow and agony will be replaced with unimaginable grace. With the remaining strength you had, you took in his darkly golden eyes, a smoldering visage, and warmth like home. The muffled sounds of rapid and loud footsteps from upstairs, the clattering of drawers and cabinets. You take one more breath in, the small part of you has the glimmering light of hope but the shadows keep inviting you to their clutches, and to be honest, it seems so tempting to just give in.

You hear the suppressed sound of Ellie running down to the basement, rushing to your and Joel’s side, you subconsciously wonder what took so long or if she hesitated during the process of looking through the house for supplies. You can blurrily make out the vision of Ellie holding a needle and thread, you let out a small gasp and Ellie only looks at you with worry. Your eyes flutter close, unable to help yourself to watch as she shakily stitches up Joel, he groans in pain every now and then, while you listen to your own blood dripping onto the mattress and sliding down to the concrete floor. You slowly begin to seek comfort in the ensnares of the darkness.

YOUR ORIGINAL OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE — JANUARY 13, 2023

WASHINGTON STATE UNIVERSITY, FUNDAMENTAL QUANTUM PHYSICS LAB — NIGHT

Ever since The Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences has decided to award the Nobel Prize in Physics 2022 to three scientists for experiments with entangled photons, establishing the violation of Bell inequalities and pioneering quantum information science. You were immediately intrigued by their findings and continued your own research with the given information. You sit in the dim lighting of the lab, and the glow of the screen hypnotizes you as you continue to scroll through the PDF file, text containing the explanation of quantum entanglement and the possibilities of quantum teleportation.

The mountains of paper, pencils, pens, and highlighters clutter around your large desk. You bring your arms up and stretch your lower back. Waiting for the possible outcome of the  computer-generated model, a theory could change how information is sent and transmitted, including transportation. You suddenly hear your other coworker, Alisha shakily call your name, and you spin your chair around to find her disheveled state. A bruised lip, her hair in a mangled mess, and her eyes red-rimmed, you look down at her once-white lab coat to find blood at the edges. Your eyes widen in concern, “Ali, what happened to–” You didn’t even get the chance to finish, she had made her way across the room to hug you and began to cry in your arms, falling apart piece by piece. You hear her beg and whimper broken words, “Please… Please don’t let him find me… He can’t…”

You then hear the yelling voice of her partner Richard, screaming her name through the halls, and soon enough, outside your door, you try to stand and lock it but since Ali was clinging onto you, you barely got up before the man came barreling through the door. You and Ali flinch at his arrival, wearing around his father’s hand-me-down anger. Your skin crawled and your bones rattled, your muscles screamed of a horror unseen. Ali’s breathing is shortened and you feel her skin become cold, your leg and arm muscles tightened. There is a sound coming from his mouth, but nothing registers as the ringing in your ears has appeared. He marches towards you and Ali, the taste of bile rose to your mouth and you swallowed, the acid rising and burning your throat.

TLOU WORLD 2023

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER…

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — DAY

You wake up choking, the feeling of being smothered overwhelms your body as you try to gasp for air. Ellie is quick to your side, as you cry out in fear and pain, the awful memory of your past that you had buried, had been used against you in your sleep. You take some time to realize where you are, and Ellie is clutching your hand as you try and jerk forward, “Hey… Birdie… shhh… you’re okay,” she said as she gently pushes you down next to Joel. You shiver and whimper, “Ellie…” She shushes you again and lets you drink from a glass of water, you painfully gulp it down, and she gets you to try and eat a bit of food from the rations, you brought with you. Dizzily, you chew and swallow whatever you could, urging yourself not to puke on the teen. 

You turn your head back to Joel, who was shivering, and barely conscious, you weakly speak to Ellie, “Can you… please lift his shirt for me?” The young girl shifts to Joel’s side, doing what she was asked of, the sickly sound of blood that clings onto his flannel has your eyes looking down at the yellow puss seeping from the now closed and stitched-up wound. To put it plainly, everything fucking hurt. You wince as you bring your shirt up to check your abdomen, finding that it had also been patched up and luckily not as infected as Joel’s. You bring your shirt down and watch Ellie take care of Joel, tucking him back in his blanket, and giving him water and a bit of food left placed on top of his blanket. You hoarsely say, “We need an antibiotic for his wound. Are there any in the drawers upstairs? In the medicine cabinet… maybe?” Then teen shakes her head, “No, I checked everything.” You cough a little, before giving her a small nod. 

Ellie looks at the rifle leaning against the wall, and you hear her whisper to you both, “I’m gonna be right back… okay?” You try and call for her, but she doesn’t stop preparing her things, too focused on trying to get you and Joel better and moving. Her footsteps sound heavy as she makes her way upstairs while carrying the heavy rifle on one shoulder, you shudder as if you were seconds from breaking down from the orbit, gravity throws you down. She will discover that life will knock you down and wait for you to stand back up before kicking you in the stomach. But, the only way to make your lungs remember how much they relish the flavor of air is to knock you out completely. Underneath, there is hurt that cannot be soothed by poetry or bandages. Because no matter how wide you stretch your fingers, your hands will always be too small to catch all the pain you want to heal. You weakly grab Joel’s hand from underneath the green and white plaid blanket, squeezing it as you shakily say, “I don’t know if you can hear me… but if you can… Joel, you were good to me. If you're wondering why I've stayed—and for all I know, I'll stay—the truth is because the stars told me to.”

A COUPLE OF HOURS LATER…

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — SUNSET

You weren’t sure how long you slept, or how long Ellie had been gone. But you stir to the sound of Ellie’s footsteps running down the wooden creaking stairs. You blink your eyes open, She unzips her jacket and lays the rifle next to Joel, and pulls out a wrapped pouch. You hear the bottles clink as she unwraps them, and she tells you it’s penicillin, she then looks at you shaking your head, “Give it to Joel first.” Ellie sniffs and nods, peeling back the blanket that covers his pale body, you murmur out instructions, “Hold the syringe in your hand like a pencil, with the needle pointed up.” She does as she is told and you continue to guide her through it, “With the cap still on, pull back the plunger to the line on your syringe for your dose. Keep the syringe tip in the medicine. Tap the syringe with your finger to move air bubbles to the top. Then push gently on the plunger to push the air bubbles back into the vial.” As if she was an expert, she does everything perfectly, but she begins to panic about where she would administer the penicillin,  “Okay, the fuck do I put this, Birdie?” You exhale in pain but keep going, “Do not inject it into a vein. You need to administer it on a large muscle, either his back or his thigh.” Ellie exclaims, “I am not pulling down his pants!” You wince at her sudden yelling, and she’s quick to apologize, you groggily get up, everything was spinning but you needed to help her. You tell her, “Okay, turn around.” She does so, still holding the needle for you as you unbuckle his belt and carefully undress him, he groans and you try your best to ignore it. You focus on the task at hand, bringing his jeans down enough to see a portion of his thigh, “Do we have any… alcohol?” You ask and Ellie hands you Joel’s metal flask, your mouth forms a frown but you unscrew the cap and pouring a tiny amount of the vodka as an antiseptic, cleaning it off with the only clean rag left in your bag.

You ask for the needle from Ellie and she hands it to you. Your heart is racing, but you manage to inject him with the required amount of penicillin, you hear Joel sigh with a mix of pain and relief. You redress him quickly and mention to Ellie it’s safe to look again, she turns to see you sitting on the mattress again, watching Joel fall back asleep. You yawn in exhaustion, drearily blinking as you try and center yourself. Ellie says your name and you tiredly bring your eyes to her as she says, “There’s another needle if you wanted to…”

You nodded gratefully and followed the same procedure as before, Ellie turns around as you undressed a part of your jeans, quick to the point of just stabbing the needle into your thigh to get it over with, gritting your teeth as you pushed the plunger down, feeling the antibiotic entering in your system. You zip back up and lean back into the mattress, Ellie hearing you shift causes her to turn around again, and you gently pat the middle of the bed, indicating for her to lay down and rest. She is snug in the middle of you and Joel, her tiny arms wrapped around him, with you kissing the top of her head. Joel leans into her touch, resting his head above hers, and quietly breathes. Your tired eyes slowly close shut and allow yourself the comfort of the people around you.

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — MORNING

As thin as air and as light as snow. The sunlight streaming through the basement window causes you to stir awake once more, Ellie is sitting up in between you and Joel, and she asks, “Do you have to inject him again?” Tiredly, you nod and carefully push yourself up, raising a hand to his forehead to check his temperature. You lift a portion of the shirt while Ellie watches you move skillfully, you sigh in relief as you inspect the injury and the wound already looks slightly better and then you lift your own shirt to see your own abdomen healing as well, you look up to Ellie who tearily laughs, “Thank fucking God.” As you prepare to administer another dose of penicillin, Ellie puts on her jacket and beanie, “I’m gonna go outside and feed the horses, I’ll be back.” You smile, “Please be careful.” She nods and is quick to run up the steps, and you undress Joel once more to inject the antibiotic into his thigh. You place him back into his jeans and place the blanket over him again, wiping away the sweat from his brows as you try and catch your breath. You then let your hand slide down, cupping his cheek tenderly, “Come back to us, Joel. Please, we still need you.” Kissing his head and then laying down to rest next to him, allowing your body to melt with his, the past two days have drained most of your reserved energy, you drift off into a deep slumber.

The crows caw violently as they fly away from the approaching danger, the leaves shake and swirl all around and Ellie is quick to investigate. She hugs the fence and crouches down to see David and his men quickly approaching, searching for Ellie and her two guardians. She curses and dashes back to the house, her boots heavily thudding against the wooden steps down to the basement, she first tries to wake you, but you don’t even stir, you have no more energy to give, each part of you spent trying to care for both of them and barely trying to keep yourself alive. Ellie panics and turns to Joel, shaking and yelling at him, “Joel! Joel, wake up. Joel, wake the fuck up, Joel.”

Ellie moves away to unsheath the knife from his bag and Joel forces his eyes open, she moves back to place the large blade on his chest, grabbing his hand so he could hold it, saying, “Okay, okay, look at me. There are men coming, okay? Birdie isn’t waking up and she’s probably exhausted from all of this. I’m gonna lead them away from you two but if anybody makes it down here, you fucking kill them. You got it?” He does reply, still barely conscious and Ellie snaps her fingers at him, “Joel. Joel, do not fall asleep. She needs you to keep her safe. I need you to keep her safe. Do not fall asleep.”

There isn’t enough time to form a reply to Ellie, she instantly bolts up the steps, placing a large cabinet to block and conceal the basement entrance. His eyes close once more, like a final puzzle piece, It all makes perfect sense to him. The heaviness that he holds in his heart's been crushing him.

ABANDONED SUBURBAN HOUSE, COLORADO — DAY

Joel hears the sound of footsteps from above, each thud causing him to jolt awake from his slumber, he tilts his head to find your beautiful figure stirring, as if your body senses the danger. He pushes himself up from the mattress, having one mission in mind, keeping you safe and alive. He shushes you, kissing away the lines on your forehead, and slowly they disappear. He hears the cabinet being moved, and quickly hides his figure, not enough time or strength yet to hide you as he limps to hide in the shadows.

The sound of floorboards creaks with each step the intruder takes, slowly approaching the landing of the staircase. He sees your resting figure deep asleep and quickly glances around the basement to see if the man who killed his friend was here. This was the moment Joel wished he was younger, quicker, and not in the worst fucking physical pain he has ever felt. The man approaches you, eyes glinting with starvation as he licks his lips, he dives onto you, nailed your wrists to the mattress, and covers your mouth as you screamed awake, shrieking and kicking, screaming for Joel. Your voice threw itself over the edge of your throat and landed at the bottom of your belly. The same way Richard did that night, you cry loudly as you continue to kick and struggle through the flashbacks of the past you had buried.

The sound of screaming from Ali haunts your mind as you hit Richard with all of your strength, he covers your mouth and you bite it fiercely, he curses and spits at you, “You fucking bitch. Come here.” You kneed him, hard, in the genitals, he folds over and you crawl over to the toolboxes on the table above you, he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him.  

You were fighting harder than before. The guy is removing his belt and pulling down his pants. You can barely contain your cries, a bird with a broken wing. You didn’t know when your being and body became something that took up too much space.

You kick him with your other foot again, using your fingernails and clawing his face and skin. This catches him off guard, releasing your ankle, you take the opportunity to grab a metal wrench, swing at him, and walloped him on the head, repeatedly, the crunch of his skull as you hack into him with every pent-up rage you had harbored over the years. Your anger often melts into sadness, it will just disintegrate into shame or fear, and your clenched teeth release into chatter. But he has found the right mix of arrogance and abuse. Telling you again how you are just not understanding the point, reminding you how he is an expert, touching your knee, thigh, and lower back, ignoring you twice, three times, continuing to talk over your screams and plea to stop. Some of us are born chasing disaster. From the moment you entered this world, screaming, you are looking for lightning, the raw of your body, always searching for clever hands.

Joel appears from the shadows, every fiber, every vein, pumping him full of adrenaline, and pure raw rage you have never seen before from him. His eyes were a deep rich black, and his eyebrows were pulled so close together, the lines on his forehead were so prominent as if they were canals and channels of rivers. He pulls the man off of your shaking body, and stabs the man from behind, hitting a part of his neck of the predator, he begins to struggle and you push yourself away from the fight, your back hitting the wall and trying to calm down to no avail. By the time the man has passed out, Joel rolls over to his side, pushing himself up and crawling to you.

When Joel makes it to your scared and confused figure, at first you try punching and kicking at him too, still in survival mode. But he manages to grab you and is desperately hauling you to his chest, one hand cradling your head, the other wrapped around your waist as you loudly wail and dry heave, he rocks your bodies back and forth and strokes your head, trying to soothe your hysteria, “I’m so sorry darlin’, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, my sweet hummin’ bird. Shh, I’m here. I’m so, so, sorry. I’m right here.” 

You were sitting at the back of an ambulance vehicle, a blanket placed over you, the flashing lights and sirens blending together with the occasional radio chatter from an officer. The blood on your hands had dried and stuck to your skin, across from you Ali was giving her statement on what had happened as an EMT continued to check over you, finding bruises on every part of your body. Strangely enough, you felt numb, there was no ounce of guilt or remorse for what had occurred and transpired. You look up at the officer, his pity radiates off of him, and you barely hear him ask for your statement only for the EMT to shoo him off, telling him to come back later, you were still in shock.

You slowly raise your chin, eyes dancing at the sight of the commotion. Like blueprints constantly being rearranged, over microscopes you plan and strain. But every sighting is proof and every heartbeat proves it too.

When it hurts too much, you might fall in love with someone with only one touch. The light shines brightest in the darkest places. Even if truth weighs more than fiction, gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls the tape and you become brave once more. You persevered despite the dangers and never-ending tight escapes, and you are still alive. Nobody will ever be able to comprehend the struggles you had to go through inside just to recover, just to develop, to get to where you are now. Be proud of yourself for battling to save yourself. Be proud of how you managed to survive.

THE ABANDONED SUBURBS, COLORADO — DAY

Joel eventually manages to calm you down, centering you, he tells you, “Darlin’, we need to find Ellie. Okay? You have to continue being brave for me, okay? Can you do that?” He wipes away your tears as you nod, he kisses your forehead and holds your face gently, “There’s my girl. C’mon.” He gets the both of you to stand, and you both drag the man up the steps, not caring if he would sometimes groan in pain. You didn’t have a very violent side, it takes a lot to push you to your limits, but when it does burst out of you, it happens in one go, and it is a blur each time you lash out.

The rattling of the branches causes your ears to perk up in alertness, and Joel lets the predator thump loudly upon the cold snow on purpose. Joel asks you to hide behind the shed, wanting to take care of the other man himself. You hear a voice call out, “Timothy?” And you spot the second raider walking through the broken fence, taking the bait as he spots who you now know as Timothy struggling face down on the crisp white snow, “Oh, shit.” He kneels on the ground to try and help his friend, but Joel comes at him with a force so strong as he hits the man on the head with the butt of the rifle, he falls to the ground instantly and becomes unconscious.

Both of you work together to prop the both of them up into the house, taping both of them with duct tape, and Joel needs to do the rest of the work out of guilt and shame, forcing you to wait down on the steps of the basement. You hear him beating the shit out of Timothy, and he wails in pain with every strike, “Stop, stop. Please.” Your lips form a line and hug your body as you decide to quietly walk up the steps, peeking at the sight.

Your mouth parts open, watching Joel’s violence happen in front of you in real-time. A satisfying crunch could be heard with each punch Joel throws at your assailant, you take a good long look at your man, and can’t help the way your breathing quickened at the thought of him protecting you and trying to save Ellie from these bastards. There is no evil in Joel’s eye, just pure focus and exhaustion. You hear the other voice beg, “Leave him alone.” To which Joel roughly replies, “You’re next.” He pulls out the knife from his back pocket and Timothy begs, “Please, I don’t know any girl.” Joel stabs him in the knee and he yells in pain, “Oh, fuck!” And the other attacker exclaims, “Jesus!” You feel goosebumps rise from every portion of your skin and try to steady your breathing once more. Timothy calls for his friend, “Marco!” And Joel grabs Timothy by his hair, roughly pulling it to get him to look at the man you cared for, his voice drops lower, “No, no, no. He can’t help you. You focus right here. Or I’ll pop your fuckin’ kneecap off.”

If Joel asked you anything in that tone, you would do anything in a heartbeat. You smile knowingly but quickly shake your head at those thoughts, needing to find Ellie. “She’s alive,” Timothy says as he is dripping in blood and the taste of copper buzzes in the air. Joel shakes his head as he asks, “Where?” Timothy doesn’t immediately respond to which Joel twists the knife impaled in his knee, and he begins to cry in pain, “Fuck! Fuck! The town!” Joel's voice booms so loudly, you watch as his spit flies in the air, the room felt like it was shaking and every part of your body felt the vibrations as he yelled, “What town?!” Timothy pants in fear and pain, “Silver Lake.” Joel pushes his head backward and cries out in ache. 

Joel pulls out the map from his back pocket and unfolds it, Timothy begins to stumble over his words as he spoke, “It’s not a real town name. It’s a resort.” Joel’s eyes narrow, “A resort?” Then he quickly pulls the knife from his kneecap, the blood squirting out as he does, Timothy is crying out again but your eyes only watch how efficiently Joel moves. He stands and shoves the handle of the knife into Timothy’s mouth, and your posture shifts, you are now blinking wildly at his actions, and the unexpected rush of heat flows in every direction of your body, you swallow in anticipation.

Joel’s voice is gruff and grave as he instructs him, “You’re gonna point to where we are and where you’re ‘resort’ is. And it better be the exact same spot your buddy points to.” Timothy cries as he nods and the muffled sound of his reply, ”Okay.” He does as he is told, his blood becoming the markers of where you are and where you were now heading. Timothy drops the knife from his mouth, letting it fall to his lap, “That’s where we are. I swear.” Joel falls to his knees as he takes in the information, looking down directly at the map and then his hard gaze looks up as Timothy continues to beg, “Go ask him. He’ll tell you. I’m not lying.” There is no moment to react as Joel takes the knife, stands up, and stabs him right through the chest, he wails and screams, and you inadvertently flinch in shock, Joel twists the knife, letting his anger take over. Marco cries out to Joel, “No, No! Shit! Jesus! No! Why the fuck would you do that?! He told you what you wanted!”

Joel walks over to the chair on the side and grabs the rusty metal pipe atop it. The man you have journeyed with, kissed, and cared for is now pushed to his limits. He is tall and domineering over Marco as he squirms and curses at him, “You motherfucker. Fuck you. I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” Joel nods, his voice as bold as whiskey, deep and rich, “You see that woman over there by the corner, watchin’? That’s my girl. Your buddy over there was gon’ touch what is mine. And no one fuckin’ touches anythin’ that’s mine.”

Your eyebrows raise and your breathing lazily declines, as your system creates sparks and tingles all over your skin. The very sensitive part of you aches for Joel, and you allow yourself to lust over him. He claimed you right here, you are his girl, and anyone who hurts you would pay the price. A brutal and torturous death.

“And you know what, it’s okay. I believe him.” Joel said, and raises the pipe and Marco begs, “No, no. No!” The crunching sound of his skull being pried open, Joel using every bit of muscle and strength as he beats him to his death, blood splatters on the wall and the floor, he lets out his rage, and you enjoy every bit of violence that he exhibits right now, knowing he would never hurt you, just the people who threatened you and Ellie’s safety.

By the time Joel drops the pipe to the ground, you are no longer peeking around the corner, you are visibly standing a few feet away behind him, as his broad shoulders rise and fall from his heavy breathing. You are well aware of the shadows in your heart, but you want to feel tectonic shifts and as he turns to face you, he sees the wide-eyed beautiful woman he has given his heart to, not a single bit afraid, yet he can’t help but ask, “So you know all about me?” You nod, “Yes.” He questions, “And you still want me?” You close the distance between the both of you, gently cupping the side of his face. There is no hesitation in your response, “I want you all the more.”

You pack what you can and trek through the snow, the blizzard, and the wind is harsh and colder, you and Joel stumble about but keep pushing on, trying to get to Ellie on time. Joel holds your hand in his, guiding you to the resort on the map, he clutches a stone pillar of an establishment, and you tug his sleeve as you spot the trail of blood staining the icy snow. You and he follow the bloody path and break into the locked door that the trail leads to with the butt of his rifle, ushering you inside and then slamming the large wooden door shut. You and Joel catch your breath, and turn on your flashlights, letting them shine through the dark. You both have your guns drawn at the ready, inspecting the building, Joel crouches down to the bottom shelf, finding Ellie’s pack. You walk deeper into the dark house, following the trail of blood, and pushing past the doors. He finds both of your horses inside, the room and you blink away the tears as you continue to try and be brave. You tiredly bring your flashlight up to hear the weird creaky noise from behind the canoes, you feel Joel behind you as he also points his flashlight to a gruesome sight.

Every step you took was a confirmation, needing to reassure yourself that this was actually in front of you, you had known there was a character named David who was a cannibal but were not fully aware when that would happen or if it would even occur. You  cannot utter the careful words that you needed, you could barely speak out loud. Your heart pounded, your head spun and your eyes saw the three human bodies tied up by their ankles without any heads. It took everything in you not to throw up right there, feeling the reflex crawl up your throat, holding back from gagging at the sight in disgust. Joel stands there speechless as he stares at the dangling corpses, you reach for his hand for comfort, and he squeezes your own as you shakily breathe in and out.

You both exit the building, and point your nose up in the air, smelling for smoke so you can follow the trail back to a burning house. You and Joel rush to the source of the grey clouds of smoke and hear the loud door opening, Ellie’s shaken figure dazedly walking away from the scene. Joel swiftly catches up to the teen and grabs her from behind, which causes Ellie to go back into fight mode, she kicks and screams, “No! Get off of me!” She squirms in his arms, screaming and begging, “Get off!” Joel turns her around, and it takes her a bit to calm down and realize it’s you and Joel, “It’s me.” Joel says and Ellie falls to her knees crying, and punching him. He holds Ellie’s head in her hand, saying, “It’s me. Hey, look. It’s me. It’s me. It’s okay.” And Ellie almost can’t speak, as she hugs him, finally feeling safe. At this moment, Joel says, “It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”

Though not the promised land, nor any perfect plan along your neutral path, there was a single lowered branch. Your ears are ringing at the slightest sound. Like a huge piano descending a million stairs slowly. The noises it produces, however, are only the growing pains of mending. You bring your arms around Ellie, and as the three of you hug, ​​every wrong will be made right, what was adamant, even permanent will have a change of heart and mind. In your disbelief, you'll clear your eyes as if you're seeing light for the very first time. Joel pulls away quickly to remove his jacket to place it over Ellie, holding his backpack in his other hand. The three of you walk away from the smell of smoke, miles away, clutching each other afraid and vulnerable, three panicked souls in the cold, for now, the dissonance disappears.

END NOTES

HORRAY VIOLENCE! (this is a joke- do I need to explain that-) I know, I KNOW THE CHAPTER IS SOOO SHORT PLS THERE WERENT ENOUGH SCENES CALMMMM IM JUST AS SAD but there is only so much I can dOOooo Many songs, quotes, and poems inspired me for this chapter HNGGG THESE WERE VERY VERY exPLICIT AND vIOLENT scenes to write and convey. Some parts of the story were taken from experiences I personally had by literally existing as a woman. The feeling of being unsafe and being taken advantage of is a sad and harsh reality of this world.  YAY FOR TAKING CARE OF JOEL AND GUIDING ELLIE… EVEN THOUGH MF UR STILL INJURED TOO GIRL CHILLLLL RIP HORSEY NOOOOOOOO At first, when I was writing this chapter for both Episodes 7 and 8, I was like, “Fuck, maybe I made a wrong call, Birdie shouldn’t have gotten hurt and should’ve got captured with Ellie.” And then I sat and thought about that for a good 3 hours, and realized that it would be a huge mistake, because Ellie and Joel still needed their resolve, meaning Ellie had to survive on her own for a while. Because there will be times when adults can’t always protect or shield their child from inevitable pain or problems. And essentially, you and Joel already had your own moment last chapter tehe David had it comin’ and only had hiMSELF TO BLAMEEEEE FUCK YOU CREEP, PREDATOR, ABUSER, STINKY MF MAN, YOU GOT WHAT YOU DESERVED yEaHHHH GET HIM ELLIE!  Bella Ramsy shrieking as she drives the knife into his chest multiple times, and then her last note faltering at the end, absolutely shattered every bit of my being, I love her, she’s so fucking talented, 5/5 stars cast mwah &lt;;3 The way I would give literally anYTHING TO BE HUGGED BY PEDRO LIKE THAT IN COMFORT T^T damn aGHHHH hORRAY MORE PARARALALALLELS WITH YOU AND ELLIE! Fighting for your life and your friend's life in that lab, at this point the school should pay for your therapy bill lol fUCK U RICHARD Also, it’s important to note, the night in that lab was a highly traumatic experience for Birdie, so she essentially froze a tiny bit when she felt like it was happening again. feel free to send me an ask if you have any kweschons, quonserns or klarifiqaystions :> - Grace

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale  @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa

[e-dubbc11]

🎃 Happy Birthday Month 500 Follower Celebration! 👻

For The Carrying On Series…

“recording and fondly laughing at the other as they trigger all the Halloween displays in the stores”

(I imagine the video being for reader & Sam 😂)

Thank you so much my darling friend! Thank you for all of your asks, thank you for your friendship and kind words. It all means so much to me ♥️

I loved this ask and I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it! 😘

That Was Scary!

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F! Reader, supporting character Sam Winchester

Warnings: couple of swear words, PG-13 smexy time, smooches, alludes to sex, fluff and fun

Word Count: 2.1K-ish (I really am trying to keep these shorter but I can’t)

Summary: Part of the Carrying On Series. I’ll leave it linked HERE. It’s that spooky time of year again and Charlie is excited to go look for his costume and check out everything at the Halloween store. Uncle Sam is in town again and you’re devising a plan to try and scare Dean.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The vibrant reds and yellows of the fall foliage contrast against the deep green pine forests and the snow capped mountain landscapes.

The autumn scenery around your new Colorado home was a beautiful sight to behold. The early evening sunsets painted the entire sky with shades of purple, pink, and orange. They were absolutely breathtaking.

Dean and Charlie were used to it. It was all Charlie had ever known and Dean had lived there for a long time now but you weren’t sure you would ever get used to this view. Being able to walk out onto your back deck, look straight out and see the tops of the Rocky Mountains covered in snow, the sun warming the sky, and the fluffy clouds above them was a luxury you never wanted to take for granted. Not everyone had the privilege of seeing something like this.

You could feel him sneaking up behind you. His eyes raked over you as you observed the clouds move over the mountains and he gazed at you fondly as you let the last bit of sun warm your face before it disappeared behind the mountains until tomorrow.

Your lips curled into a wide smile as you stated, “It’s beautiful isn’t it, Dean.”

“Yes it is, sweetheart.” He replied.

You looked over your shoulder at him and biting down on your lower lip, you shyly said, “Baby, you’re not even looking at the view.”

“Oh my view is very beautiful.” Said Dean.

Keeping his eyes locked on you, he slowly climbed the deck stairs, walked over to you and pulled you in close by the waist so your back was flush with his chest. As you closed your eyes, you felt his full lips kiss your temple and his strong arms squeeze your body like he never wanted to let you go.

The crisp mountain air cooled your cheeks as the two of you enjoyed the silence and his body heat kept you from getting too cold.

“I hate to ruin such a perfect moment, buuuuut…” Dean started to say.

As you turned around to face him, you snaked your arms around his neck so you were looking up into his green eyes that matched the patches of grass that were still clinging to life.

“Charlie wants to go now, doesn’t he.” You said.

Dean closed the gap between your bodies and right before he kissed you, he replied, “Well, he can wait one more minute because I haven’t kissed you properly yet today. He’s been buggin’ me about goin’ all day.”

“Spooky season,” as Charlie called it, had arrived and he had been bothering Dean for the past week about going to check out everything at the Halloween store and picking out his costume.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks, sweetheart.” Said Dean with a slight growl in his voice.

Between work, Sam visiting, and Charlie back in school, getting alone time with each other has been tough the past few weeks. By the time you both were finished with work, dinner, and helping Charlie with his homework, most nights you were too tired to do anything. You would end up falling asleep watching a movie or falling asleep in bed before Dean could come over.

“What are you talkin’ about, baby? I see you every day. Stop exaggerating.” You said, gently brushing his beard with your thumb.

“You know what I mean, y/n.” He said in a frustrated tone.

You did know what he meant but you were just trying to make him feel better. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, life had become just a little bit busier, and both of you were trying to adjust to your new schedules.

“I know, handsome. I know what you meant, I was just trying to lighten the mood a little. We’re still trying to get used to everything, that’s all. We’ll figure it out, ok? Ok?” You said.

His eyes were focused on the ground and he was pouting slightly. He looked so adorable doing it though, nodding his head.

Dean cupped your cheeks as his lips collided with yours. Caging you in against the deck railing, he firmly pressed his body against yours, parted your lips with his tongue and wanted desperately for it to twist and knot with yours.

A smirk played across his lips as a strangled moan escaped your mouth, his hardening length pressed against your core, and he was leaving little love bites down the side of your neck.

Just as he reached for the top button of your jeans, you heard Charlie call out to him from his front yard.

“DAD!!! Can we go now?!!!” Shouted Charlie.

Dean grumbled under his breath, “Son of a bitch…” Then yelled back, “IN A MINUTE, CHARLIE!!”

And then you heard Sam’s voice.

“YEAH! COME ON DAD! LET’S GO!” Sam shouted, sarcastically.

You bit down on your thumb to try and keep from laughing but it was hard not to. Pulling him by the shirt, you said with a chuckle, “Come on, Dad. The kids wanna go play.”

“I’ll kill them both, I swear.” Growled Dean.

You kissed him on the cheek and said with a sly smile, “Maybe we can play with each other later, stud. Let’s go!”

**********

Charlie practically jumped out of the Impala while it was still moving so he could go inside and look around before anyone else could. When Dean and Sam were young, they never really experienced any holidays and when Dean became a father, he wanted to give Charlie as normal a childhood as he possibly could so he and his wife started doing all of it…Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas…it gave him a reason to do all of the things he missed out on when he was a child.

“Look at this one, Dad!!!” Exclaimed Charlie.

He pointed to a trio of skeletons playing instruments. The description said that you could set up music through Bluetooth and it will look like the skeletons are singing and playing along to the music playing.

“That’s a lot of money, Charlie but it is pretty awesome.” Said Dean.

Dean didn’t know but you and Sam had a text conversation on the way, discussing how the two of you were going to try and scare Dean with some of the motion sensor Halloween displays.

You had a feeling Sam and Dean had plans of their own to try and scare you and Charlie too. Basically, there were a lot of clandestine plans being made around you and it kept you on guard while walking around the store.

Row after row of scary masks were mounted on the walls and they had what looked like every costume you could possibly want. Accessories like fake swords and guns were in baskets at the end of the aisles while makeup, fake teeth and wigs were in another aisle.

You never really experienced many holidays as a kid either being on the road with your father so you were really enjoying looking at everything in the Halloween shop.

The animatronics section was pretty incredible and Dean knew exactly which ones to turn on to try and scare you…the spiders. The first one was black with black and red striped legs and glowing red eyes. You nearly climbed up the wall when it jumped out in front of you and as you lurched forward, it tripped the motion sensor for the large fuzzy gray spider next to it.

While trying to control his laughter, Dean said, “You should have seen your face! Actually, you can see your face, I got it all on video!”

“Very funny, baby.” You replied with narrowed eyes, pressing your lips into a straight line, and folding your arms protectively across your chest.

“Oh it was very funny.” Said Dean.

You hadn’t decided how but you were going to get him back.

Charlie managed to find probably the scariest clown mask on earth to scare Sam. He patiently waited behind one of the other clown animatronics and just as Sam was about to walk past him, he jumped out and gave his uncle a good jump scare. All of the color drained out of Sam’s face leaving him white as a ghost.

“I got you good Uncle Sam!” Charlie said with a wide smile across his face.

Stuttering slightly over his words, Sam replied, “Y-yes y-you did, buddy. Why don’t we go put that mask away ok? Far, far away. Ya know what, let’s just buy it so I can burn it…that thing is…terrifying.”

Of course Dean recorded that one too. It was tough to scare him because he wasn’t scared of much but you had an idea that you texted to Sam and you needed a distraction so you could buy what you needed without Dean noticing.

You told Dean you would buy Charlie’s costume for him which was a perfect cover for what you needed to buy to get Dean back for scaring you with those spiders.

“Alright…we ready to go?” Dean asked.

The three of you nodded and then headed for home.

**********

“We tried to scare you, Dad! Nothing worked.” Said Charlie during dinner.

Dean replied, “It’s ok, buddy. I’m just not easily scared. You three on the other hand…I think Sammy is gonna have nightmares about that clown mask. And don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll check under the bed for giant spiders.”

Dean’s lips curled up into a devilish smile.

While Charlie was getting ready for bed, you gave Sam a quick nod, silently communicating to him that it was time to get Dean back for scaring you. Charlie was in his bedroom getting ready to do his part to try and scare his father.

With a confused look on his face, Dean looked over at you and Sam and asked, “Did Charlie go to bed?”

You glanced down the hallway toward Charlie’s room and the door was closed.

“He must have; the door is closed.” You replied with raised eyebrows.

Dean walked down the hallway and opened the door to Charlie’s room. It was completely dark inside and when he flicked on the light he saw a figure sitting on Charlie’s bed in a doll mask; Dean yelled “AHHHH!” and stumbled backwards into you and Sam also wearing creepy doll masks, making him jump even higher off of the ground.

You recorded his reaction to Charlie on your phone while Charlie recorded Dean’s reaction to you and Sam on Sam’s phone. The perfect revenge.

You managed to pull it off when he least expected it and as you tried to control your laughter, Dean stormed out of the room with a sour look on his face.

“Ok, ok ya got me!” Scoffed Dean, throwing his hands in the air.

After hi-fives all around, you chased after him.

“Where ya goin’, baby?” You asked with a wide smile.

“You got me with the one thing that freaks me out…I hate dolls.” He said, pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. “Is that why you offered to buy Charlie’s costume?”

“Well I needed a way to be able to buy those doll masks without you noticing.” You said. “But I also really want to buy Charlie’s costume for him. I never got to participate in Halloween when I was young so it was nice to see the excitement in his face. Tonight was really fun for me, Dean.”

He pulled you in close, your chest flush with his, and he kissed you on the forehead as you melted into his embrace.

“Even though I scared you with spiders?” Asked Dean.

A wide smile stretched across your lips as you hummed into his chest, “Hmmmm, even though you scared me with spiders.”

“I love you.” He said softly. “Charlie loves his costume. You heard him earlier. He won’t stop talking about it.”

As you snaked your arms around his neck, you pulled his face toward yours until his lips met yours. Dean growled against your mouth as he parted your lips with his tongue and held you in a firm embrace.

Your fingers were spread wide as to let his soft brown hair glide in between them while his large hands roamed all over your body before resting them firmly on your hips.

Whispering against his mouth, you replied, “I’m so happy he does and I love you too, Dean.” You paused briefly, enjoying the feeling of his hands dancing up and down your back before saying, “Ya know…I got something else from the Halloween store that I thought you’d might like.”

A sly smile stretched across your lips as Dean walked over to the table where the bag was. He looked inside and saw the sexy nurse costume, then yelled out to Sam, “Sammy! Will you watch Charlie for a little while, I gotta go…take care of somethin’.”

Sam stuck his head out of Charlie’s room, “Dean, I have some research to do for a case. I need some time to—“

But Dean interrupted him, “Ok thanks, dude. I’ll be back later. Byeeeeee!” Said Dean, quickly ushering you out of the front door. “Go, go, go sweetheart.”

Sam shouted down the hallway as the front door slammed shut.

“DEAN!!!”

Too late, the two of you were already halfway across the yard, headed toward your house and tonight he was going to show you what an adult Halloween was all about.

Tag List: @munsonownsmyass @gijos @vaguekayla @stoneyggirl2

Others that might enjoy: @k-marzolf @jvanilly @fluffyprettykitty @deans-spinster-witch @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

[sc0tters]

Fights and Feelings | Mikko Rantanen

summary: when Mikko sees you with one of his teammates he realises that he wants to be more than just your friend.

request: yes/no

trope: friends to lovers

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.36k

authors note: here is the first avs player I’ve written for and I’m happy to say that this was really cute. If you want to read more of the celly then you can check it out here!

Mikko didn’t know how much longer he could keep quiet.

Tonight was the third night in a row that you were coming home because you were spending the night with Nathan. The Canadian had gotten the chance to take you on a date and he made sure to make the most of it before Mikko changed his mind.

The two of you had been living together for the last year and a half after your lease on your previous apartment ended. In 2017 your coffee order got mixed up with his and from the moment he offered you a conversation whilst you both waited for the second one, you haven’t looked back.

Your giggle could be heard from down the road as Nathan shut the passenger door to his car when you got out “you don’t have to walk me back again!” You smiled as the Canadian wrapped his arm around your shoulders “but I liked doing this.” Nathan shot back as he helped you back up the steps.

It was icy in Colorado not just because Mikko had seemed to be avoiding you but also because it was reaching the end of October so with that the cold front was rolling over Denver “I should go so I don’t wake Mikks up.” You sighed knowing that your best friend was still awake as he couldn’t sleep without knowing you were in the house.

Nathan nodded ignoring the disappointment that coursed through his veins “I’ll see you sometime soon?” His voice was hopeful as you smiled “of course, have a nice night MacKinnon.” You mumbled leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

That broke Mikko’s heart as he watched you through the ring camera as he sat on the couch “have a nice night?” Mikko repeated your words as he watched you walk into the living room.

You nodded as you slid your sneakers off of your feet “you finally done being an ass?” You shot back raising your eyebrow as you hinted back to the entirety of the morning.

Mikko hadn’t spoken to you at all, and if he did it wasn’t more than basic conversation. To you it seemed that he merely didn’t like that you were going out with his teammate. Once Nathan was a good friend of his but now Mikko couldn’t say two nice things about the Canadian as he seemed to worry that he would break your heart “I am just looking out for you y/n!” Mikko groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

He watched as you crossed your arms “I’m not twelve Mikko.” Very rarely did you ever call him by his actual name as you usually settled for a nickname “besides he’s a good guy.” The addition was softer as you looked at the ground.

It made Mikko get up from his seat “he’s my teammate, I know him better than you do.” If his mother knew what he was doing she would have been on the next flight over from Finland “there it is again!” You complained shaking your head.

You felt hurt that your best friend couldn’t be happy for you as you finally found a guy who could treat you well “I am sorry but why can’t you just act like you are happy that I’m happy!” You felt like you were going in circles with him as you weirdly craved his approval.

The hockey player groaned “because I don’t want to stand here and watch you get hurt!” Mikko yelled causing you to shift back a few paces “then you don’t have to.” Venom laced your voice as you turned around and marched yourself to the front door.

Mikko sighed as he watched you open the door “where are you going?” The hockey player asked as he placed his hand on his hip “far away from you.” The response came from your lips as quick as you shut the door behind you making sure that you grabbed your car keys beforehand.

Tears clouded your eyes as you drove off not really knowing or caring where it was that you landed up at. Rain began to fall around you all as you continued until your eyes couldn’t take it anymore “I know it’s late but can I come in?” You begged knocking on the door as tears streamed down your face.

It might not have brought you as much comfort as he might have thought but Mikko had the worst night of his life. He slept on the chair in your room as he hoped to see you if you came back. Right after you left was the first time that he truly realized the potential for consequences due to his actions. The hockey player called Emily, a girl you worked with in the hopes that she could tell him where you were. Of course she didn’t but rather left him with the message that if he truly had no clue where you were then maybe he wasn’t as good of a friend as he once thought.

Practice had gone horribly as Nathan made sure to go tough on the boy until Gabriel was there to put an end to the fight that the boys almost had “enough you two!” He groaned standing in between his teammates in order to stop them from hitting each other.

All they did was glare at each other as their drama went beyond the team dynamic “what the hell are you playing at today!” Mikko grumbled as he spat at his teammate “maybe you should be asking y/n that.” As those words left Nathan’s lips Mikko’s clenched fist swung at his teammate.

You made your way into the arena as your sandals hit the floor “what are you doing here?” Mikko looked up from his icepack to see you stood there “Gabriel didn’t want you going home alone.” You grumbled crossing your arms .

It took him seconds to get up and follow as you spun on your heel “wait up!” He complained grabbing his duffel bag as he made sure to follow you “look let’s just get you home so I can leave again.” You should have said no to the captain, you would have told Gabriel that you had better things to do but instead you didn’t want to say no because you didn’t want to leave Mikko.

Even as you were irritated at him you watched his bruised hand brush over your thigh “I’m sorry.” He mumbled locking his pinky with yours.

The gesture made your heart swell “for punching him or for being a dick?” You sent him a glare as you pursed your lips together.

Mikko felt his heart pound as you walked back to your car. He weirdly didn’t have an answer for you which caused you to both sit in pure silence.

Orange and yellow leaves painted the windows of your car all the way until you drove him back to the house.

You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you turned to Mikko “I think we should take some time apart.” You gripped your hands around the steering wheel as you sighed.

The hockey player clicked his tongue “wait.” He stopped himself as he looked at you “I love you.” Mikko blurted out causing you to go silent.

Scanning his face for any part of a lie yet it was clearly all true “I’m should go.” Mikko sighed as he went to unlock his door but you were all too quick and beat him to it as you kept it locked.

Mikko furrowed his eyebrows as he frowned “look you clearly aren’t interested in what I said so just let me-” his complaint was short lived as your lips locked into his.

It took him a few moments before Mikko kissed you back letting his hand hold your head as it kept you there “Mikks-” you moaned as his tongue slid over your lower lip.

You felt his other hand go to your waist “wait,” you pulled away “I love you too.” Your words made him laugh “you think I didn’t get that from the kiss?” Mikko ran his fingers over your cheek.

[theodork]

Ticci Toby X Reader

A/N: there is no use of Y/N or any gender so yee..

Summary: You return after going away without saying goodbye to your best friend. You run into Toby and he is pissed.

Warnings: Girl Idk nothing to bad tho lmao, a little cursing and poor baby toby is mad asf. a little angst.

It was early January in Colorado; the biting cold nipped at my exposed skin, sending shivers down my spine. The frigid air felt like sharp needles pricking at my fingertips even with gloves, leaving them numb and tingling. Even through layers of clothing, I could feel the intense cold seeping into my bones, causing my body to tense up. Every breath felt like it was freezing my lungs as I exhaled, creating a visible cloud of vapor in the air. The sky was clear and the sun shone brightly. The snow sparkled and shimmered, outlining the landscape. It was a peaceful and beautiful sight. The snow and leaves crunched under my boots as I walked back to the Slender Mansion. It had been a full year since I left. I had gone to the city under Slender's orders and now I was back, even if it wasn't for very long.

A low whistling sound, like something metal and heavy was thrown at full force flashes past my head, barely grazing my loose hair. The heavy thud of a hatchet hitting a tree causes me to turn. Behind me stood a lifeless tree, its decaying branches reaching out like skeletal fingers. And there, lodged firmly in the rough bark, was a weathered hatchet. I looked back in front of me, a scowl plastered on my face. It was Toby, he stood about 50-ish feet in front of me. He looked different. He no longer had his raggedy brown and blue hoodie. It had instead been replaced by a grayish blue jacket accompanied with a trucker hat. One thing that did stay the same, or rather two was his muzzle and his orange goggles. I looked back at the hatchet, I hadn't even recognized who they belonged to. My scowl was quickly replaced by a smile.

"I missed?" his voice sounded, it seemed shocked.

I take off my mask, I had changed it since I last saw Toby. My new mask has little doodles and other graffiti all over it, making it fit my style more. "Is that any way to treat an old friend?" I chuckle, walking forward a bit. He walked forward, his eyes a bit wide.

"What? no welcome back?" I say, a small smile plastered on my lips. His initial shock of seeing me wears off. He glares at me, his eyes are like sharp daggers. "Why t...he hell are you back?"

"I missed you, Besides, Denver was boring." I say. I'm back at the behest of Slenderman, but I did miss Toby, and Denver did get boring when I missed him. Toby narrows his eyes, skepticism etched into every crease of his face. He takes a step closer, his breath visible in the freezing air, the vapor seeped through the open crevices in his muzzle. The chilly mist emanating from his mouth hangs in the air for a moment before dissipating, creating a ghostly effect. As he moves nearer, His gaze then sharpens, transforming into penetrating daggers that reflect his discontent. He huffed.

"Why? It’s not like we’re friends or anything.” He said in a harsh voice. I frown.

"We are" I said, titling my head a bit. I cant blame him. Afterall I didn't tell him I was leaving. Not even a goodbye. I deeply regret it, but I couldn't change that.

"I'm sorry for not telling you I was leaving or even telling you goodbye, I really should have" I said my voice was soft.

"yes...y..es you should have," He huffs again. He was angry and I did not blame him "actually it's whatever It not like I cared." I paused for a moment, my heart sinking at his dismissive words. It hurt more than I thought it would, hearing him say that. But I couldn't dwell on my own hurt feelings. I reach my hand out to touch his.

"It doesn't sound like you don't care." Toby recoils slightly at my outstretched hand. His eyes flicker with a mix of emotions.

"Don't touch me." He barked, slapping my hand away.

"Sorry-Right... sorry" I said. Toby is quiet for a moment.

"It was boring here without you." His voice and eyes soften.

"It was" I smile. As angry as he was he missed me. Toby let out a frustrated growl, his gloved hands gripping his hatchet tightly. His slender frame tensed, and it seemed like he was struggling to keep his emotions in check.

"Yeah" He grunts, his tough guy persona comes back.

"I am really really sorry I didn't at least say goodbye" I apologize again. 

“You’ve already said that” Toby rolled his eyes 

“I tried to write to you when I was away.” I said, “I never sent them but I wrote a lot…I guess the gesture is useless because I never sent them” I spoke. My voice was a little sad

 Toby's gaze softens, a flicker of warmth passing through his eyes. He hesitates for a moment before speaking, his tone losing some of its harshness, though it there laced into each word, "So?"

As I reach into the inside pocket of my jacket, my fingers curl around a bundle of letters. Pulling them out, I reveal a collection of folded papers, varying in size and color. The letters are neatly stacked, each one bearing the marks of time, with edges slightly frayed and corners softened. Some envelopes are worn and discolored, while others appear crisp and new. The sight of the numerous letters emanates a sense of both curiosity and nostalgia, hinting at the stories and emotions contained within each one.

His eyes dart to the letters, he looks like he wants them, but he's fighting himself.

"You can have them, read them if you want..." I offer them to him,  His gaze lingers on the letters for a moment. He scoffs.

"I don't want them."  I feel my heart sink once again, but this time it's a pang of disappointment mixed with resignation. I had hoped that he would take the opportunity to glimpse into my thoughts, to understand the depth.

"Alright" I put them back in my jacket "that's a problem , good, I wrote some pretty embarrassing and sappy stuff in those"  Toby's eyes widened for a moment, his curiosity piqued by my sudden revelation.

He snorts. “You think I’d actually read them?" It's obvious he's trying to convince himself he doesn't want to read them.

"Yeah I forgot you can't read" I joke, playfully teasing him. Toby scoffs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. He lightly slaps my arm "Who says I can't read? I just choose not to."

"I only jest, I know you can read" The tension starts to ease between us.

"Why did you come back anyway? Why did you really come back" Toby asked again, taking off his muzzle. revealing his mouth. The scar on his cheek looks a bit rougher and his chin has a bit more hair on it. I look down at his fingers to get a better look at them. They look a bit rough too. He must be chewing on them. Afterall I wasn't around to remind him to stop.

"Well it's like I said. I missed you" I answered.  Toby's face contorts into a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. He shakes his head, clearly not satisfied with my response.

"That's it? You just missed me? Bullshit"

"I did."

He glares. “Like hell you did.”

"What the hell Toby, I did"

“And I don’t believe you.” He crosses his arms. “And why didn’t you say bye, anyways? Why’d you just disappear?”

“Goodbye are hard, I thought maybe I'd I just left it be less hard"

 I sighed, feeling the weight of my past mistakes and the strain of the current conversation resting heavily on my shoulders. I had hoped that my return would bring some semblance of peace and understanding between us. Toby went silent for a minute. The silence was a bit deafening. Even the trees seemed to stop rustling as the air went heavy. 

“Well, you were wrong.” Toby finally says with a huff.

“I know, I'm really really sorry.”

“Do you expect me to forgive you?” He scoffs, pulling his goggles off his face. 

“No, I don’t, But I hoped maybe you could?”

“Well I am not.”

“That’s okay. Like I said, I don't expect you to,” Toby held grudges, and he was good at it, “But I promise when I leave again, I’ll tell you and I’ll say goodbye.”

"When you leave again?!” His eyes go a bit wide. His voice is more shocked than angry. “When you leave again?” He repeats. 

“Is that a joke?” he asked.

"Why would it be a joke?" I ask and tilt my head to the side.

“You’re leaving again? I thought you were staying.” He’s disappointed, as much as he tries to hide it he wants me to go.

"I'm staying for a week," I admit.

“Why? Why bother coming back at all then?” He starts to pace. “No you know what, You’re not important to me. I don’t care. You’re just a waste of time, a burden you should have stayed in denver.” He spat, venom laced his words. I knew he was just talking out of anger and hurt, but it didn’t make the impact of the words any less harsh.

“You don’t mean that,” I said.

“Oh, but I do!” he barks.

“Well, don’t worry then. I’ll leave after I check in with Slenderman.” I shake my head. I start to walk in the direction of the Slender Mansion.

“Good” Toby mutters, another sharp thud hits the dead tree from earlier. Toby threw his other hatchet at the tree in frustration.