#HI HELLO happy belated holidays!

[kithtaehyung]

the window (3tan) (m) | myg

title: the window (m)   pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)   series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au   summary: you get to spend the holidays in a lavish private lodge with your brother and all his friends. but you’re just really fucking sad tonight… and maybe a bit mad, too. note: so in order to not fall more behind than i already am, i went ahead and combined both holiday specials into one🥃this one came about due to window anon’s reminder about yoongi’s window threat, and everyone that proceeded to cause outright chaos all day after that. so if you want someone to yell at for this, yell at them!!! note 2: this is a holiday special! therefore where it fits/if it fits in future canon is not disclosed. so this can be enjoyed as a one-shot, but i still highly recommend reading all the three tangerines series if you haven’t yet<3 it’ll make things make a lot more sense.  warnings: strong language, alcohol, this yoongi requires his own warning tbh, chains making a comeback who is shocked!!!, or*l (m rec), manhandling, hitting it from the back a ha ha, angst :(((, masturb*tion, exhibiti*nism, omg we’re kinda pissed y’all😳, ….c*ckwarming, rough s*x, slow motion l o l, missi*nary, protected s*x, cmnf (clothed male), pain kink :)), kissing haha, !!!angry!!!s*x!!!!, c*wgirl, light d*m/sub dynamics, tense scenes, bro appearance, body worship, yoongi is deliciously aggravating, but so is brat!reader<333, ch*king (m/f rec), head/hair pulling (m/f), multiple org*sms, yoongi’s fit is basically 2022 grammys have funn🥴, cute af aftercare<3 drop date: january 10th, 2023, 7:17pm est word count: 15.3k bc i can’t stfu !! 

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“You sure you don’t wanna join us?”

“I’ll be okay, Tae.” 

“Okay. Well, call me if you change your mind.” 

“I will.” 

“Wait. Are you really sure?”

“Yes, Chim.” 

“...Okay.” 

Before you shut your door, you offer both boys a smile they don’t buy. 

But they leave regardless, and you watch as they make it down the staircase of your elaborate rented house, their chatter coating both the polished floors and the decorated walls. 

A sigh escapes. 

You know they’re meeting up with everyone else, but you can’t bring yourself to join in on the festivities. Not after whatever the hell you witnessed at dinner last night. 

Why did Yoongi… 

Fuck, forget about it. It’s probably nothing. 

Drifting to your bed, you check your phone previously dumped on the nightstand, sighing at an empty screen before making your way into the cozy nook of your bedroom. 

Seriously, does every bedroom in this mansion-like place have a mini kitchen and living area, too? How did Jungkook happen to score this house for a whole week? You even have a decent balcony, which you would be sitting on if not for the subzero temperatures outside.

However this happened, you’re still in shock that you’re the only one who got a bedroom to themselves. 

Well, maybe it’s not that surprising. Your brother definitely muscled everyone else into rooming with each other, claiming Yoongi for himself. The only one that really complained was Jungkook, but Seokjin only said to suck it up before rolling his suitcase right past the younger one’s pout.

Contemplative, you walk over to fill the electric kettle you found in the kitchen, flipping it on before watching the sunset outside hickory windows.

If only your friends were able to come. At least you could’ve enjoyed their company around your fireplace while you downed hot chocolate and stewed in your thoughts. Maybe then you would brush off these icky feelings faster, or at least had Dom there to get another read on the situation you’re replaying in your head. 

Then again.

She would probably be biased and say Yoongi isn’t shit.

Groaning, you grab a mug from one of the cabinets before taking a hot chocolate packet from the counter, tearing it open and hoping it helps.

Upon inspection, there doesn’t seem to be much of anything—just a wad of the powder stuffed in one of the corners.

Of course.

A tsk scratches your teeth before you lean the cocoa against your cup, and the kettle boils just as your blood pressure falls close behind.

Yoongi knew you could see him.

Why did he do that?

And why hasn’t he said anything about it since?

The trip had been pretty magical and fantastic before that dinner. You got to go sightseeing in the snow-capped mountains with everyone, snuck a peek of Tae’s little moment with Jimin in the hot springs, visited a quaint village with pretty shops, and even sat around a fire pit after grilling food.

Only the studio guys and your brother have been less active during this trip, since they’ve all committed to various projects that they’ve been working on in their rooms. 

Profoundly different from, as that woman so wonderfully put it last night, going sightseeing at her place instead. 

You still remember the look Yoongi had after she slipped him what you imagine was her number. Smack dab in the middle of all of you having dinner in the same little town as the first time. 

When she popped up unannounced, Hoseok and Namjoon were too nice to wave her off. But it wasn’t until it was apparent that she was only there for Yoongi did they swallow their niceties—only for your brother to swoop in with the wingman charm. 

“Are you all enjoying the town?”

“Hell yeah,” he blurted before Yoongi could even say anything. “Food’s good and the views are great. We just went on one of those mountain tours, too.” 

“Ugh, aren’t those so fun?”

“You get it. Right, Yoong?”

Frankly, you don’t wanna recall how the rest of that went down again. Not when all you could picture is the hand kept on Yoongi’s back the whole time, or the look he actually gave her when she turned suggestive. 

And how deep you dug your nails into Tae’s dress pants.

Fuck, you should apologize for those marks he definitely has.

What makes everything even worse? You recognized exactly where you saw her before that night. 

You… She…

“Fuck.”  

Saddened even more than before, you dump hot water into your cup, yelping when some sloshes out onto your hand ouch.

Of course. Yes. How perfect. 

The next curse is less subtle than your shout as you bang the kettle back onto the countertop. And you’re one second from tossing your fresh cup in the sink before you hear rapid knocking. 

Shit. 

Your brother most definitely heard you from right next door. 

Eyes shut, you fling your hand around while making your way over to tell him to screw off. He knows better than anyone why you could possibly be in one of these moods, dinner woes or not. 

“Don’t worry, dude, I’m—”

Oh.

He’s not who you expect to see at all.

“Kook,” you whoosh out, closing the gap so that only your soured face can be seen. “Hi.” 

“Hey. You okay?”

Observing concern under blond bangs, you give a sniff nod. “Yeah. Why?”

“I just…” When Jungkook pauses, you finally notice how nice he looks. “Thought I heard you shouting.”

“Oh.”

He looks really nice, in fact. His suit is a whole step above the sweats and baggy shirt you’re sporting behind thick wood and room care instructions.

This holiday event the neighborhood is throwing must be fancy as hell. You figured Taehyung and Jimin dressed up just because, but apparently you’re missing a whole—

God. Damn it.

Your heart must’ve seen Yoongi coming from your brother’s room before you did, because its beats already stop before he fully comes into view.

Wow.

What in the fuck?

Why the hell does he have to look like that when you’re this frustrated? Of course he’d rock a black button-up and slacks. Of course he’d style his hair in a way that makes you wanna snatch him from the hallway. Of course he’d look the most expensive you’ve ever seen him.

This is a whole other layer of upset that you didn’t need tonight. 

Did he dress up because…

Shut up. Just shut up shut up and talk again because Jungkook looks gravely concerned.

“Well,” you start, tearing your gaze away from your current problem and fighting back pent-up rage. “I’m fine. Have fun.”

“You aren’t going?”

Like some tether that would go taut if pulled apart for too long, your eyes snap back to Yoongi’s. But your response remains tight as he adjusts one of his cuffs, “I said I wasn’t gonna.”

Damn it, don’t lose it when they’re both here. Jungkook’s already got a look in his eye and Yoongi is definitely sussing you out with his furrowed gaze.

Don’t be like this right now. Let them go first. 

It’s the younger one that tries to convince you,

“Hey, it could be fun. And it’s an open bar! We can wait if you wanna cha—”

“I’m good,” you clip him off, heart sinking because you’re being brash but you can’t rein yourself in. With what already happened combined with… other things, you are way too wound to be social. “I already said I wasn’t going at dinner last night. But y’all seemed distracted enough, so.” 

Yoongi straightens while Jungkook simply utters a confused sound. 

Fucking hell, just let them go. 

Don’t make it worse. Don’t do it. 

But the dinner, the dinner, the dinner. You didn’t ask about it, but Yoongi still could’ve said something about it right he could’ve texted well okay this really shouldn’t be that big of a deal anyway maybe it’s nothing but fuck you’re still mad wait you’re saying something,

“Have fun sightseeing.”

Shit.

“Wait—”

Doors slam a lot louder when they’re huge.

And leave a more prominent silence, too.

Slowly pressing your back against the grain, you instantly feel rife with regret. 

That didn’t need to happen like that. 

Especially with Jungkook there looking both lost and confused as hell, when all he wanted to do was check on you.

Goddamn it. All you had to do was wait until they were gone. Why did you take it out on them? 

Yoongi didn’t say anything about what happened. But you didn’t talk to him, either. A whole day passed and his texts about the snow outside and going to the party tonight are the last ones in your thread. 

Which you were mad about because you already mentioned you weren’t going.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

“What the hell just happened?”

Wait, they’re still at the door? 

Eyes downcast and grey, you perk your ears to see what they could possibly be saying.

If any insults are thrown, you can’t be mad. Not when you just acted so damn shitty.

“Don’t, Kook.”

“But I—”

“Drop it.” 

“Did I do something wrong?” 

“The fuck? No. Let’s go.” 

“Okay… Wait, is he coming?”

“Nah.” 

“They both aren’t? Who’s going?”

“…Everyone else.” 

“Oh… Right, okay.” 

You’re fully slumped on the ground once their deep voices vanish down the stairs, and a single tear slips from your chin as your arms top shaky knees. 

You hope Jungkook doesn’t take it personal. 

Dinner woes or not, you weren’t going anyway. 

“Hey, babe. How’s the trip without me? Boring as hell probably.” 

“Something like that,” you huff, voice rueful through your matching, broken smile. As you take another bite of your tiny snack bowl, you keep your eyes on the movie that some people deem a Christmas one, despite there being more shooting and a guy in a destroyed white tank than anything. 

Whatever. You’ll take it above any of the fluffier choices. 

“Babe?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked what’s wrong. Now you’re just scaring me. Do I need to fly my ass over there?”

“No, Dom,” you sigh. “Just need a metaphorical gut punch.” 

Immediately, your friend’s voice turns low and condensed. 

“What did he do.” 

“Uhm.” For some reason, her protectiveness makes you want to cry again. But you have to get through this in one piece, especially if it turns out to be nothing. “Technically, I don’t know if he did anything.” 

There’s a pause before Dom responds again, 

“Why not?” 

Your lips press together with guilt. “I didn’t ask.” 

“Okay, so…” 

“Ugh, I wish you saw what went down,” you respond with frustration. “I know I sound dumb, but—”

“What happened, baby. I haven’t heard you like this in a long ass time.” 

“Sad?”

“Pathetic.” 

“Well, goddamn!” You give your phone a glare before a surprise laugh bubbles forth, and you can hear your friend cackle on the other line. “Whose side are you on?”

“Tell me everything first and I’ll decide.” 

“Fuck you and your sag brain.” 

“Don’t have this tat for nothing.” 

After you take a deep breath, you turn down the gunfire and explosions before reliving the dinner. How Yoongi had been giving you looks as you and your brother traded embarrassing stories, your whole table laughing with every single one. 

You tell Dom about how you saw the woman come up to you all, hand going right to the back of Yoongi’s chair before it slipped onto his shoulder—which he did nothing about. 

She stays silent throughout the whole thing, even when you tell her how Yoongi glanced down at the napkin he got before turning to your amused as hell brother, both of them engaged in what seemed to be interesting conversation. 

When you’re done, you stuff a bunch more food in your mouth, so much so that you have to chew a lot before answering her follow-up question, 

“And he hasn’t texted you at all after that?”

You cough a bit before forcing the pity snacks down, swallowing more than salt before admitting, 

“He has.” 

“Oh. Okay, and?”

“I…” Damn it. “I haven’t responded.”

There’s a long sigh before Dom recaps, 

“So the man texts you once after that and you don’t even—”

“Twice.” 

“...What?”

Your eyes shut in embarrassment. “He, uhm. He texted twice.” 

Silence.

“And I may have just slammed the door in his face.”

Triple, layered, compounded silence.

In fact, after a whole thirty seconds, Dominique is so quiet you think she literally walked away from you and her phone.

You’re so curious that you bring it up to your face before getting blasted by her yell,

“Really?”

“Look—”

“You called me to tell me this? You made me walk away from family game time, you know that? I’m taking all the heat—”

“Dom, I’m sorry, but—”

“For the love of— Finish whatever the fuck you’re stuffing your face with, and text him back.” 

“But he—”

“He what? Flirted with some chick in front of everyone like he’s supposed to?” 

You snap your mouth shut. 

“What did you expect him to do? Lock eyes with you the whole time and wave the girl off as if he’s already got someone at home?” 

“I—”

“What happened to keeping things on the down low.”

“Alright!” Your head ducks straight between your arms. “I get it, okay? I’m just in a shit mood like I am every year and the one person I…” 

You inhale slow through your nose, eyes closed to the world. Two people already got burned by your misplaced wrath. You don’t need to add a third. 

Swallowing, you try again. “The one person that could possibly make it better this time just took this chick’s number in front of me.” 

“Babe.” 

You sigh. 

“I just wanna see him, Dom,” you finally admit to the universe. “But we can’t.”

“Mm.”

“And that dinner just made it even worse.” Another saddened whoosh of air slips from your nose. “I know I’m overreacting. I am. But it’s upsetting to have to sit through that.��� 

“Then tell him that.”

“Not right now. Not after shutting him out.”

“Then suck it up and apologize first.”

She’s right. 

Either way this goes, an apology to Yoongi is definitely in order. 

But also, this is the first conversation in awhile in which your best friend absolutely grilled you. Even when she cornered you in your car to warn you about Yoongi before, it wasn’t this caustic. 

The way she’s come around is mind-blowing. It’s enough to make you question, “When did you start defending him this hard?”

Dom immediately corrects with a scoff before comforting you in the most Dominique way possible. 

“This isn’t even about him. I’m looking out for you. And right now, you’re the one that’s hurting you.” 

Your face scrunches with emotion.

“So make up with my future brother in law and I’ll see you when—”

“What?”

“—get back. And y’all use protection, right? Cus I don’t wanna be an auntie just ye—”

“Dom!” You are so whooping her know-it-all ass when you get back. She doesn’t get to give you butterflies after making you cry! 

“What? I need to be stupid rich first.”

“I’m hanging up on you now goodbye.”

There’s a fizzy cackle on the other line, and you can’t help but break into a grin when she bids farewell.

“Love you!”

You wipe a trail from your cheek before moving your phone up to your mouth. Because you wanna cradle it close while saying bye for real, 

“Love you, too.”

You [10:11pm]: hey

You [10:13pm]: i’m sorry 

There. 

You did it. 

…And now you wait.

Ten long minutes of fidgeting and worrying later, you finally get a response. 

Yoongi [10:23pm]: You coming?

Part of you wishes to, especially knowing he looks like the devil incarnate. 

But you just can’t bring yourself to go. It’s just not in you tonight. 

You [10:27pm]: still no

Yoongi [10:27pm]: Ok hold on

You wait for a few moments before you get a call, and your eyes bug out of their sockets because you certainly didn’t expect this.

When you pick up, it’s loud as hell on his end. “Hi.”

“Talk to me.”

“I’m…” This feels silly to do right now. There’s a ton of sound and music, and your subject feels supremely out of place. “You sure?”

“Yes, babe.” 

What did he just say? Can’t people hear him?

“I’m just…” Well, if he’s fine with it then you’ll take the opportunity. “Sad? Upset? Something like that.”

“I know. I’ve been trying to get outta here but—”

“One more drink, Yoongi!”

“Yoongi, hurry up.”

“Is that his girlfriend—”

Ah. Cool.

And your mood sours even more than before. 

“Right,” you respond, voice hardened and emotions knotted. “Sounds like it’s been super hard.”

“Okay, hold up. Is this about the dinner?”

Teeth grit when you confirm, “Yes, it is.”

“What about it?”

“You know exactly what.”

“No. I don’t. So if you wanna say something, say it.”

You’re boiling inside. If he knows it’s about the dinner he should know what the fuck you’re referring to. Why is he being difficult?

Truthfully, you’re so fed up that you damn near drop it. “Never mind.”

“…What?”

“Nothing.”

Yoongi’s voice competes with a flurry of other sounds, but its heat still comes across,

“It’s not nothing. Don’t lie.” 

“Did you end up calling her? That girl.” You exhale sharp as you finally ask, body tightly wound and ready to burst. “If I can’t lie then you can’t, either.”

And there’s a moment of silence. 

Stupid, dreadful silence.

“I did.”

And your heart slams into the ground. “I see.” 

“You wanna know why?”

Absolutely not. “No.”

“No?”

“I’m done now.”

“Wait a sec—”

“Yoongi!”

There’s a commotion on the line before you hear a much higher voice, way too close to the receiver,

“He’s with us now, ma’am. Bye!”

The line cuts.

Your vision burns.

And you fold.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi [10:47pm]: Pick up. Please.

You [10:49pm]: i can’t do this. not tonight.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Yoongi: Voicemail

“Look. I don’t even know if you’ll hear me out, but. I only called her cus she works at that jewelry store in the village. The one we all looked at the first day? Maybe you remember, if you don’t it’s cool, too. But I was getting something for your brother and I didn’t want him to know. So, yeah.”

That’s where you saw her before.

But Yoongi could’ve at least told you that beforehand. Or at all. 

Why didn’t he even mention that? 

Why did he have to leave you guessing and what about the people at the party… 

It helps to know. 

But it doesn’t mend you entirely.

Yoongi [11:02pm]: I left. 

Yoongi [11:03pm]: It’s still fucking cold btw

You [11:05pm]: you left ?? why?

Yoongi [11:05pm]: You know why

You [11:07pm]: it’s still early

Yoongi [11:08pm]: Got somewhere to be 

You [11:10pm]: i’m sure you do

Shutting your eyes, you already regret sending that. 

…But when he replies? 

Yoongi [11:12pm]: K

Yoongi [11:12pm]: Night

You know you crossed the line.

And just like that, your haze of anger whooshes from your eyes, vision snapping as clear as your head should’ve been ages ago. 

Fuck.

You know for a fact that Yoongi wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. So why the hell have you been treating him like shit? Being in a sour mood doesn’t give you an excuse to be this way.

All anger now melting into pure regret, you slap the mattress before rushing up, snatching your snack bowl up and berating yourself like hell. 

But are you yelling at yourself entirely? Or is part of your wrath still staring Yoongi down? 

Fuck. You don’t know. Maybe it’s both; maybe it’s misplaced entirely. 

Dumping your dish in the mini-sink, you hear it clink into others, your pathetic, unceremonious pile growing even larger.

Absolutely no reason to check your phone anymore.

There’s no way you’ll hear from him now.

Buried in bed, you sniffle for the umpteenth time, turning the television up louder so that your pitiful state can’t be heard through the wall. 

Your brother is on the other side. And if he heard you crying, you wouldn’t get rid of him until you told him a lie or claimed Mother Nature’s monthly wrath. Which would also be a lie tonight, too. 

You messed up.

And you deserve this silence because why can’t you just trust him like you’ve been working up to? Do the holiday lows really affect your mindset this much? 

Well. Now that you think about it. 

This does remind you of a similar situation from some years back… Is that why—

Wait.

Your phone’s vibrating. 

You shoot up from under the covers.

Where is it?

You tossed it where is it—floor. 

Snatching it from the cold carpet, you check the screen and crack into a sob at the caller ID. 

Goddamn it… Why is he giving you so many chances.

You’re the one that screwed up.

Yoongi: Incoming Call

“…Hi.”

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, still feeling the burns near your eyes. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Just let me in, doll.”

“Huh?”

There’s a pause before he breathes, and you cannot believe what you’re hearing. 

“Open the window.” 

What…?

No fucking way. 

You pause while staring at your curtains, wondering if Yoongi is really on the other side of the thick, neutral material. 

He can’t be. 

But if he is, you gotta get him the fuck inside because it’s cold as hell out there. 

So you fling the covers off while ending the call, chucking it behind you while tugging the drapes to the side. 

And you can’t believe what you see. 

One thing about Yoongi: he’s always going to look better than you. Even when standing on a dark balcony, bangs so stiff they aren’t even jittering with his shakes. 

“Oh, shit,” you curse aloud as you unlock the latch, not realizing that as soon as you slide the door open just enough—

“Come here.”

In seconds, you’re swooped into a freezing hug, and he smells like whiskey and cologne but also like him and home and you’re too caught up in his fingers on the back of your neck to notice him sliding the door shut with his other hand. “Why did you—” 

“Quiet.” 

“But—” 

“Uh uh.” 

“You’re mad—” 

“I am,” he mutters, and your heart constricts before he clarifies. “But only cus I didn’t do this right.” 

“What?” 

What didn’t he do right? What are you missing? How is he even here? There are too many questions and not enough answers at all. 

But Yoongi still doesn’t let go of your head, instead palming it just a bit more into his dress shirt before he whispers, “Just...” 

And he stops. 

Without any indication of—

“Can I just kiss you.” 

Your heart drops, which is painfully ironic because it feels lighter than ever. 

Lifting your head from his person, you can only stare into his awaiting gaze, shifting your eyes side to side because this man needs to be studied by all of humanity. 

How can someone manage to break down your defenses in five words? How can someone make a day full of missteps and wasted time feel like it wasn’t a waste at all? 

You only get to nod once before he consumes you in a frenzy, nerves and senses going haywire at the way he’s tugging you in holy fuck you see stars. 

Desperation. Frustration. You taste both of these, but there is also something else—an apology. 

Good. 

Because even though you messed up, he kinda did, too. And you think you now have the courage to tell him what he did to upset you.

“You know what?” 

“Hmm.”

You snag the front of his shirt. “I’m pissed, too.” 

As he slings you around to kiss you against the chilled glass door, your body buzzes with a flurry of thoughts. Under all the pain, the anger, the relief that he’s here… 

It’s just intriguing as fuck to see him in this state.

Because Yoongi has shown you time and time again how dangerous he can be. How he can lose control in the best ways just as you do for him. 

But right now? Devouring you like you both had been apart for months while your brother’s on the other side of the wall? 

“Yoongi—” 

“Don’t.” 

This is the most daring he’s ever been. And you’re completely surrendering to the flames he’s engulfing you with. 

Your hands grip his top incredibly hard, clawing at him with unspoken words of your own. With each tug, you’re oscillating between telling him to leave, and begging him to stay. 

And with both of his palms on your neck, his firm presses tell you he’s not leaving regardless of what you have to say. 

Suddenly, your heart isn’t aching because of what you witnessed before. It’s aching because of how wonderful and stupid and perfect this man is. It hurts because…

“This is all I wanted,” you finish your thoughts through wobbly, puffy lips. 

When Yoongi hovers just enough to ghost over you, you can’t keep from shaking when you continue, 

“I just… I wanted you here, even if you upset me.” 

Instead of claiming your lips again, Yoongi goes for a light touch to your nose. Which is just as fine because that’s his to claim, too. “But all I did was shut you out, and just now those girls sounded all over you and—” 

“You should’ve seen what happened.” 

Blinking, you feel the distance he’s creating by leaning away. “Hmm?” 

“After that chick took my phone,” he explains, deep set in a frown. “Shit pissed me the fuck off.” 

“Oh.” 

“I don’t even know where they came from. Hobi, maybe?” He shakes his head again, and the agitation you witness between his shoulders makes you crumble. “But doesn’t matter. At all. Okay?” 

“No, I know. I’m not—I’m not normally like this. But this time of year is just…” You sigh, tilting your head down until Yoongi forces you to keep looking him in the eye. When you go on, his insistent finger on your chin makes tears form. “It messes with me. But that’s no excuse to be an ass.” 

In the wake of your admittance, he simply stares. And stares some more. 

A single drop of remorse slips from your eye, but you swipe it as soon as you feel the trail. Because you’re not gonna dwell in this any longer. He’s here, knowing damn well he shouldn’t be, and you realize that’s enough to tell you that he’s sorry, too.  

But what is that look in his eye? 

What is he saying that you can’t quite decipher? 

“Did you get my message?”

You nod.

“Mm. Well, it’s not all true.” 

Oh. 

Hell no.

When you’re about to move away, he stills you with a hand on your arm while reaching into his back pocket. 

What does he mean he lied what did he lie about he better explain quick or else… a pouch?

Your eyes stay unblinking as you register that Yoongi’s holding a soft bag in his hand. 

And you know exactly what those are used for. 

“Yoongi,” you whisper, voice almost lost. “What the hell is that?” 

“I didn’t go back just for him.” He keeps staring at the tiny container while you regard him, still gobsmacked. “But yeah, that girl? She thought I was there for her, so. Wasn’t exactly happy when I mentioned you.” 

Your heart has got to keep it together. “Me?” 

“Yeah. I knew what I wanted to get you, but. Couldn’t exactly go there myself without a reason.” As he places the soft pouch in your hand, he explains, “He was on my ass about seeing her after the dinner, too.” 

Your hand closes around the bag. 

He knew what he wanted to get you? 

You?

This whole night just seems to drift more and more into dreamland. Are you sleeping after all? Those kisses did feel very, very real, though…

Suspended in disbelief that Yoongi is both present and handing you a gift, you breathe out, 

“Thank you… But why didn’t you tell me?” 

Yoongi scrunches his face in what you assume is embarrassment. Adorable. “I wanted it to be a surprise,” he says through a regretful smirk. “Guess I should’ve just fessed up.” 

“This time? Yeah.” You look down at the bag, feeling like you don’t deserve it. “I know I shouldn’t have, but my brain went straight for the worst possible scenario. It’s, umm…”

Looking away, you fight the tears that you specifically didn’t want falling. The ones that you were done crying years ago, 

“It’s happened before. Around this same time, actually.” 

Eyes burning, Yoongi seethes. “Who the fuck?” 

You shake your head and face him again, whispering out reassurance, 

“Someone that doesn’t matter now.”

His silence seems to be different than before. When he runs a hand along the side of your head, you press into it like second nature. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something I like talking about,” you quietly confess. “Which is stupid if it’ll also make me upset. So I’m sorry, too.” 

“You wanna know something?” 

“Sure.” 

He drops his hand into a pocket. “You being mad never crossed my mind. No one else can even...” Yoongi lets out a huff so delicate you would never guess it was his. “If anything, I’m pissed that I haven’t shown you well enough.” 

Now that’s interesting. 

Blinking, you reach for context, “Haven’t shown me? Shown me what?”

He rakes a hand through his hair while glancing away. But when you lock eyes, he clarifies with zero waver in his tone,

“How I feel about you.”

…Oh.

Your stare is full of wonder and, while you didn’t notice it before, he seems to have a certain aura around him tonight. Something strong. Something resolute. 

“No,” you whisper, a tear pinging onto your shirt. “You have. Damn it, I—It’s my fault.” 

He is quick to assuage your guilt, just like always. And like all the times before, he moves on before you can protest, 

“Open it.”

Oh. Right. You still have the impossible gift in your hand that you know you’re gonna keep forever without even knowing what it could be. 

In front of you, Yoongi remains silent as you widen the opening. And you feel him awaiting your reaction as you pull out a necklace so simple, yet so elegant, that you can only assume that yes, you are dreaming. None of this is actually happening.

It’s a thin chain, with small links and no embellishments. 

And it’s perfect. 

“Oh my god.” 

“She insisted I get you some sort of charm or whatever for it,” he finally speaks in murmurs. “But I didn’t wanna pick something you wouldn’t like.” 

You stare. 

“So I’ll just bring you next time, and you choose.” 

And you damn near drop the gift. “What?” 

When you slap a palm over your mouth, Yoongi’s lips curve. “No bullshit.” 

“I…” What is happening? What is going on? “I dunno how you’d swing that since everyone’s here.” 

“I’ll just take you here myself.” 

His look of confidence has you averting your gaze in an instant. 

“Just us.” 

Tonight has taken too many turns into madness. He’s joking, right? It’s not enough to sneak into your room with your door completely unlocked, huh?

No. He’s not serious. You both know that’s the longest shot in history, especially considering your situationship isn’t even fully fleshed out. 

But it’s nice to pretend. 

Especially when he sounds so sure it’ll be real someday.

“This is way too much,” you say through a rueful smile, head shaking as you continue to dub tonight unreal. “Thank you, Yoongi.” 

“Huh? You deserve a lot more than this.” He scoffs while taking the necklace from your hand, carefully slipping it back into the bag. “And I was planning to give it to you later, but uhm. Figured now was a better time.” 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. “Just wanted to say you got nothing to worry about.” He softly tosses the bag on your rumpled comforter before grabbing at your hips. “And that you looked hot as fuck at that dinner.” 

Shivers coat your body as you parry, “I wore the biggest coat I brought, are you kidding?”

“Nope.” 

Suspicion makes you hum, but you enjoy his compliments regardless. Even if he’s full of shit, his kindness never fails to heal wounds. “So…”

“Hmm.”

It seems like Yoongi’s done all he wanted to do. Running back the minutes in your mind, he’s managed to kiss the living crap out of you, show that you have nothing to be anxious about, given you a gift, and offered to take you back here on your own getaway trip.

What the hell is he still standing around for? He’s done more than enough, so he needs to get the hell out of here.

“You really came here to tell me all that?” 

“Yeah.” He snags your chin. “And to teach you a fucking lesson.” 

What.

What.

Slack-jawed, you rush out, “You aren’t serious—” 

“Dead serious.” 

You know exactly what Yoongi’s implying. But as much as you want nothing more, you can’t. There’s no way! 

“But—” 

Your brother is still very much awake, judging by the loud hip-hop beats bumping through the wall. 

You know it’s a slim chance he would even swing by your room. But still… 

“We can’t.” 

Yoongi grins at the panic you feel buzzing in your eyes. Grins! “Why not?”

“You know exactly why!” you whisper, grabbing him to kiss some sense into that reckless brain you love so much. 

He responds in kind, pushing into you and almost bending you backward. Releasing you with a pop, he asks, smug, “You want me to leave?” 

“Fuck no.” You bring him back in with more force, and your belly flips at his conceited chuckles. “But he’s next door.” 

“I know,” he rumbles. “So keep it the fuck down.” 

Goddamn it. The thrill of having him here while everyone is on this trip bursts your senses wide open, and you’re embarrassed that you’re the most turned on you’ve been in a minute. 

How the hell is that even possible? 

Is it the secrecy? The danger? The possibility of Yoongi getting his entire ass beat if you were caught? 

Fucking hell, it’s everything. And what makes it even worse is how stupidly attractive this man gets when he’s cocky. 

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you lead him straight back against the edge of your bed, and he grunts as his legs bump right into it. 

Shit, that was loud. Was it loud? Crap, you’re paranoid already.

With a sigh, you finally let go, hanging your head. “We can’t,” you repeat, breathless and more to yourself than to him. 

Because this little secret cannot be revealed. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever since your brother would probably riot.

Yoongi lets you sit with your thoughts for a few seconds before relenting, “I can go, doll.” When you jet your head up, he offers a tiny squeeze of your arm. “If that’s what you want.” 

“Oh… No, I”—you gulp, not believing what’s coming out of your own mouth—“I want this.” 

His brow cocks up. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you affirm, face serious but stomach acting outright silly. “I wanna forget my own name.”  

“I can make that happen.” 

You don’t doubt that. He’s done it more than once before.

“But also…” Summoning courage from all angles, you place a firm hand on his chest. “Can I still be mad at you?” 

Yoongi falls completely silent for a moment, his stare incredulous and his chest stiff under your palm. 

Did his heart… beat harder there?

But he regains his voice before you question it further. His deep, sinfully low voice,

“Whatever you want, baby girl.” 

“Good.” You push him immediately, heart stammering when he falls onto your bed. “Because I wanna make you forget yours, too.” 

“Fuck.”

As soon as you pounce, Yoongi wastes no time in groping both cheeks of your ass, and you can’t help but squeak when he hauls you off to pin you down into the mattress. 

Air leaves you in a rush as he keeps up the offensive, bearing down on you as he lodges a tone thigh right against your cunt. Another mewl escapes before he clasps a hand around your mouth. 

When he speaks, it’s compressed thunder. And his words strike through you like lightning,

“As much as I wanna hear you, you better shut the fuck up, doll.” 

You hum into his palm, twisting your body to try and gain control again. But you find it’s no use as you thrust your chest into his, the slow rumbles of his conceited laughs all you receive. 

“So cute,” he coos into your ear, chuckling even lower when you whoosh out a grunt. “But you’re gonna wait your turn like a good girl.” 

“No!” you grit into his hand, moaning low when you feel fingers graze right over your cunt. 

When did he even move his leg! 

Yoongi shifts his head, bangs tickling the side of your neck when he questions, “No?” Shifting your shorts, he slips his fingers right underneath them and your panties, causing you to flinch right away. “Wanna try that again?” 

“N…” You breathe out of your nose, and quickly realize that he isn’t gonna move his fingers any longer unless you give in. 

…But why do it so easily?

You’ve spent the past twenty-four hours being pissed at the world—and this man to some degree—so why waste all the compressed energy making a warzone of your body?

Use it. Use it to make the most of the time you get this version of Yoongi to yourself.

Lifting one of your arms, you grab his palm to yank it away from your mouth before defying him a second time. 

“Make me,” you hiss, lifting your head to meet his lips. “Bitch.”

Everything happens at once.

Before you can blink, your arms are pinned above your head while large fingers lodge their way into your mouth. While you’re busy taking them in, there’s a dark, almost sinister vow trickling into your ear, and shivers coat every inch of your skin,

“You’re gonna wish you kept this pretty mouth shut.” 

Your reply is a gurgle, but he keeps going in, 

“Because you seem to think I’m not yours.” 

Wait. What? 

That’s the… That’s the lesson he’s gonna teach you?

“And I’m gonna fuck you until you get the point.”

Oh, fuck. He’s still pissed.

He may not tell you exactly how mad he really is, but you can tell he’s frustrated. And quite frankly, you would be too if your devotion was questioned.

Fuck. If you saw things from his side, you really would be upset. 

The twinge between your thighs rattles your entire lower body. Because he’s gonna tear you apart in the most beautiful way.

“Get up.” 

“What—” 

Yoongi hauls you upward, getting you out of the bed before bringing you to the other side of the bedroom. 

Huh? 

What’s he doing? Why is your mind a whirlwind right now? 

Silent but firm, he leads you to one of the armchairs in your room’s nook, sitting you down before giving a chaste kiss. After, he goes to your door to lock it, and you watch unblinking as he takes long strides back to you. 

You don’t know what the hell is going on.

But you literally cannot be more ready for it.

Unbuttoning one of his cuffs, Yoongi simply stands over you while explaining, 

“You’re gonna show me first.” 

“Huh?” 

He folds his sleeve inward before pushing it up his forearm. “How you get off.” 

Oh, god. 

God.

“Yoongi—” 

He uses a knee to spread one of your legs to the side, staring at your center that you know is already wetting straight through your bottoms.

When you stay silent, he proceeds to slip his other sleeve upward, cocking an impatient brow from above,

“Don’t make me wait.” 

Before you can respond, he walks away, moving towards a tall lamp standing in a corner of the dark room. As you wonder how he’s able to switch demeanors as quickly as a lightbulb, he flicks it on, shortly before taking comfortable residence in the armchair opposite you. 

You can only sit there, full of wonder and not knowing what the hell to do. 

Does he really have to spread his legs as wide as yours, though? 

Handsome asshole.

“You tappin’ out already?”

“Shove it,” you rush out, pouting with a beating heart when he leans his smug face on defined knuckles. 

Because whatever Yoongi’s plan is, this scenario? Is a dream. 

You’ve been wanting to do this for so long—longer than you’ll ever, ever divulge. All the nights you spent touching yourself imagining him watching from your desk, or even right beside you on the bed, whispering things that you will never admit that you thought of yourself. 

It doesn’t help that Yoongi looks like Sin.

So you bite your lip, the essence of time and possibility of someone knocking on your door spurning you into action. 

You reach down to stick your hand down your pants—

“Fuck that.” 

What?

Freezing, you watch his face, hardened and dark. 

“Who said you could go inside?”

“You said—”

“Uh uh.” He pins you with a fiendish curve. “Lemme see those pretty nails first.” 

Your senses don’t know what to do with themselves. 

How long has Yoongi been hiding this side of him? This demanding, uncompromising side that you wish you knew sooner? Why did he decide to bring it out during the most inappropriate time? 

Because it’s fucking hot, that’s why.

Not only that. It’s also reaching into you and unearthing parts that you wouldn’t dare show anyone else. If you were honest, you’re a bit frightened at the thoughts dripping into your mind, coalescing into a dark, wonderful pool. 

But those little scenarios can wait. Right now, you just want this so-called lesson to go as long as it possibly can.

Slowly, you rub yourself above your sweats, immediately understanding why he made you do this. 

You loathe this. Complete pleasure is miles away, and yet right there. 

Fucking hell, you’re already embarrassed at how sensitive you are. Will he force you to try and come this way? Is that even possible?

Well. You can’t truly rule anything out when it comes to him. 

Silently, you beg him to not let that be the case, already angry as if it was. 

Yoongi chuckles, and you can’t help but shudder at his low scratchy tone. 

“You mad?”

“Yes.” 

“Good. Stay that way.” 

You growl, throwing your head back and rubbing in aggravating circles, trying anything to get the friction your lust desires. Your mouth forms shapes until words fit through, and Yoongi responds to a plea you didn’t know you uttered,

“Please what?”

“Please…” You breathe harsh. “Lemme take them off.”

“Why should I?”

“Let me do it and I’ll show you.”

“Pass.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out, groaning in annoyance when he chuckles with little pity. 

If you had to guess what would happen on this trip before going, you would never have chosen anything close to this. Laid out on an armchair, shamefully rubbing yourself through your pants while your brother’s friend watches? What kind of fucking universe did you stumble into?

“I don’t like repeating myself.”

In your haze, you open bleary eyes and ask, “Huh?”

“Shirt off.” 

Shit. You didn’t even hear him. “But my pants—”

“Don’t care.” 

Oh, you hate this Yoongi. And you love how outright feral he’s making you feel. 

Fingers shaking, you raise your shirt up, and he hums when you reveal a braless chest.  

“All the way off,” he commands with gravel in his words, and groans in approval when you follow instructions.

When you fling the shirt towards him, he doesn’t move an inch as it reaches his shoes. 

And as he stares down at the material, something stirs in your belly, and you’re quick to wonder where any and all if this rebellion is coming from.

Maybe it’s the painfully obvious tent he has in his pants. Or the ravenous, subtly proud look in his eyes anytime you act out. 

Either way, you wanna ride this wave as far as it carries you. 

“Now what,” you bite, cunt throbbing as you keep trying to find euphoria through thick cotton. 

“Nothing until I say so.” 

“Please,” you beg, huffing hard from pleasure being kept at arm’s length. 

Why the hell is he taking his sweet time? He’s not even supposed to look at you for too long around your brother, and yet here he is fucking you with his eyes as you writhe in a chair. Doesn’t he know he’s on severely borrowed, stolen time?

“Please what?”

Breath ragged and chest heaving, you grunt, “You know what.” 

“I don’t,” he lies. “Tell me.” 

You’re gonna kick his ass. “Lemme take them off.” 

“No.” 

Fucking hell, you can’t take it anymore. Your core aches so hard it’s starting to coax tears, and you know that he’s fully aware and not doing a single thing about it. 

Screw it. You need this, you’re pissed, and you can be difficult, too. 

“Fine then.” Against his orders, you slip defiant fingers into the band of your pants.

“Careful.”

“Pass.” 

His whole face glowers as you offer a devilish expression of your own, slipping your hand right into your panties and rubbing exactly where you want to. 

Finally. 

Pleasure throws your head back as you grasp what you crave, and your ass slides to the edge of the cushion as your back arches taut. Lust shoots through you as you launch yourself into space, turned on by the fact he’s watching you out of all control. 

Are you already this close? How?

Why isn’t Yoongi—

As soon as you open your eyes, you come face to face with him, both of his arms caging you in on each armrest. 

And he looks delightfully pissed. 

Grabbing your wrist, he warns with thick anger, 

“Do that shit again and see what happens.” 

Honestly? You kinda want to. 

But you hear a sound, so your thoughts derail as you snap your head towards the door. 

Your chin is grabbed. “I’m watching, baby girl,” he whispers, making your head spin with how soft he suddenly became. With a passing thought, you just realized that he hadn’t even been using names until then. “Don’t worry.” 

You nod, and he lets you go, reverting back immediately,

“But since you wanna fuck yourself so bad, I might just head out anyway.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you hiss, moaning when your scalp is tugged back. 

“Then do as I say,” he orders, releasing you fast. “And take those off.” 

He doesn’t need to tell you that twice. 

Lip bitten, you stare up at him while slowly slipping off your pants, underwear coming off with them in a pile at your feet. 

As soon as they hit the ground, your legs are pried open again, and you whimper before he commands, 

“Who said you could stop?”

Fuck. 

Gulping, you feel strangely powerful despite being the one with no clothes on. Even though he’s the one towering over, you have a feeling he’s trying hard as fuck to keep himself in check. 

And it’s making you want him more than ever. 

So you continue fingering yourself, his stare chilly and warm at the same time on your bare skin. Your nipples pebble under his attention, and your whines fight through your pressed lips as you get closer and closer to climax.  

“Fuck, the things I wanna do to you,” Yoongi growls, his hand coming up to cradle your face. 

Looking up, you’re sure you look pitiful when you ask, but you can’t help it. “What things.” 

“Wanna fuck your throat.” You whimper into his palm before he sticks a thumb inside your mouth. “Paint this pretty face.” 

Holy fuck.

You moan as tiny as you can muster, cunt pulsing around your fingers and making your eyes roll up.

A snicker erupts before Yoongi smothers your saliva across your cheek, “What’s on your mind?” 

“You.” 

“What about me.” 

And you feel it. Your defiance. Coming out once more before you can even stop it, “Being put in your place—” 

Your throat is snatched in a dime, and you clench when he threatens, “Do it. You won’t.” 

Gurgling, you surprise both of you with a laugh. “I like it, you know,” you choke out, and he’s so confused that he unhands you. 

“Huh?” 

“When you’re mad,” you admit, fingers stopping in between your folds when Yoongi tilts his head with a cautious smile. 

Unprompted, he lets out a tiny laugh of his own. There’s a bit of worry in his voice when he checks in, “You okay, doll?” 

Huh?

Immediately, you assure him with knit brows. “What? Yeah, why?”

He leans down, and you’re regarding him with a strange look as he looks from one eye to the other. 

What’s he doing? Did you do something wrong? 

“Just thought I lost you for a sec,” he finally explains. “Which I would love to see, but not tonight.” 

See what? You’re thrown off guard for a second as you blink. “Oh. No, I really do just like making you mad.” 

He laughs before kissing your head. “I can see that. Punk ass.” When he lifts your chin again, he makes sure with a quiet, “You wanna keep going?”

You don’t know what he means about losing you, but he seems to be back in a comfortable state. And since you’re sure he’ll tell you more about it if you ask, you decide to leave that question for another time. Another night when there isn’t risk and danger right next door.

That knowledge is potent enough.

When you nod, Yoongi makes you answer him verbally, so you confirm, “I do, baby.” You sit up high to kiss him before assuring again, “Do your worst.” 

He immediately grins, shaking his head before slipping into a toe-curling smirk. “Nah,” he declines, winking when you pout. “Not like this.” 

Eyes wide, you wonder, “Are you really just gonna watch the whole time?”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel bad.” Staring at the hardness in his pants, you offer, “At least let me suck you off.”

He only tsks. “Have you earned that yet?”

“I dunno but I know you want it.” 

A tongue prods his cheek. “You’re too good at this.” 

Proud, your smile is wide in response. And you salivate when you hear the clinking of his belt, knowing he’s gonna be a menace during this part, too.

“On your knees then, baby girl.”

You slide off the chair, feeling all your essence between your legs as you sink to the ground. When he only unzips to free his cock, you groan at what appears in front of you, wanting it—needing it—to split you in two.

But you don’t think things will get to that point. This is already pushing the hell out of it, so him plowing you into next week is out of the question. 

This fact is probably why he decided to bring you to the chairs in the first place. That coupled with the fact that it’s on the further side of the room from his shared space with your brother. 

How can he think straight while you’ve been a mess? Your vast difference in experience hits you out of nowhere every time. 

“Go ahead then,” he taunts, and you snap out of your daze. “Let’s see it.”

Rolling your eyes, you internally bite back while taking his weight in your hand, licking his tip before taking him in. 

When he curses, you slide your gaze up his torso, reveling in the way he’s already shifting his jaw.

He’s gonna eat all of his words.

Sliding your mouth back and forth, you make a few passes before releasing him to spit, coating him with your saliva before going again. With your other fingers busy on your clit, you feel the dirtiest you’ve felt in a long time.

And you love it. 

“Fuck, doll.” 

You preen, taking more of him in each time and pumping his base with equal rhythm. You lodge wet digits into yourself the same way, and imagining him both in your guts and in your mouth drives you to the very edge.

Fuck, you really are about to come like thi—

“Hands off,” he says out of nowhere, and you pause for him to clarify, “On your thighs.” 

Wait, no! “But I’m—”

“Now.” 

Fucking hell! 

You know he’s enjoying making you mad, too. There’s no way he’s not having the time of his life. 

When you plant wet palms on your legs, you keep sucking him off, realizing that this is just as hot as what you were doing before. Fuck.

But he takes his cock out with a pop, smacking your cheek before sliding it back into your mouth. As you let out a high whine, he praises,

“So cute like this.” He doesn’t explain further, but falters with a moan before laughing to himself. “Hustling the shit out of me.”

Mouth stuffed, you can only hum in reply. Which only makes him fold forward and curse under his breath. 

Your fingers dig into your thighs, wanting to pleasure both you and him instead of being useless. It’s taking all of you to follow orders while your cunt is throbbing impossibly hard. 

And he finally reaches to fondle your tits to push you over the edge that knock was on your door. 

Wait.

That knock was on your door. 

“You in there?”

And that’s your brother oh FUCK!

While you rush up to stand, Yoongi’s already shoving clothes into your hands and moving away in a flash, and you’re mortified and wondering where he should hide. 

Hide! Like some high schoolers! 

Panicked, you tremble as you attempt to dress, letting the blare of the television respond to your sibling instead. 

Holy shit holy shit holy shit. Yoongi’s done for you’re in deep shit this trip is gonna go sideways real quick. 

When you look his way, he’s already next to your bed on the other side of the room, not moving to open the sliding door. 

What is he doing?

“Did you leave?” 

Talk, for heaven’s sake! “N—No, hold up!” 

“Okay, thought so. Hurry up!”

When you shake your head at Yoongi, all he does is try to smother a cheeky grin—which you immediately reject with a swat down of your hand. 

What the fuck is he thinking! 

Never mind that. You don’t have time for this because your room smells like arousal and cologne and it’s not subtle in the least.

Dashing to your bathroom, you come up with the stupidest plan and hope to every higher power that it works. 

“Are you taking a shit?”

Oh, god. Grabbing perfume, you yell out, “No, just wait! Goddamn!”

“God, you always take so fucking long.” 

When you pop back into your bedroom, you catch Yoongi pinning you with amusement, almost telling him to shut up out loud. 

Why the fuck does he look so hot you need to focus! 

You point down with force, signaling for him to duck behind the other side of your bed as low as he can. Cursed with a frenzied brain and throbbing core, you spray an ungodly amount of perfume while speeding around the room. 

Chairs, bed, air, neck, tv for no reason, chairs again good enough just get the door.

“I swear if you’re hiding something—” 

You pull the entrance open with a yank, pursing your lips and wondering how you’re gonna send him away. 

But his brows pinch instantly. “Damn, what’s up with the face?” 

Shit, you probably look like a trainwreck. What the hell do you say? Certainly not that you were just sucking off his best friend that’s still very much in the room oh god.

“I was watching something.” 

When he cocks a brow, you figure he doesn’t know what to say to that. Whatever. It’s fine as long as he doesn’t suspect anything—

“Lemme in.” 

“Why?” 

“If you checked your phone, you would know.” He scoffs before moving his way into the doorframe, quickly ignoring your protest. “It’ll just take a sec.” 

You’re too horrified to realize that he doesn’t even take two steps before swatting the air with his free hand. “The fuck? Did you just put on perfume?” 

“Yeah,” you stare with hesitance, trying damn hard to not glance towards a certain hiding place. “Don’t want you judging if it doesn’t smell all nice.” 

“Since when have I ever judged your room? Fuck, turn the TV down.” 

Is Yoongi on the ground next to the bed? Or did he somehow fit under? There’s a small chance your brother will even look there but if he does and Yoongi’s visible you’re gonna perish.

Grabbing the remote with eyes unfocused, you simply retort, “You judge everything.” 

“Touché. But you’re good at this stuff so I need an opinion.” 

Oh, fuck. He’s sitting on your mattress? 

Ironically—hilariously—that’s better than him sitting on one of the armchairs.

Fucking hell, you’re gonna need ten medics. 

As you feel like sinking right through the floor, your sibling opens the laptop settled on his legs. Eyes glued to the screen, he beckons, “Look real quick.” 

Just do it. Don’t act like there’s anything wrong. Don’t give away the fact that he’s severely close to his friend, or the fact that your cunt is throbbing so hard it’s starting to pang.

Body twinging with guilt and paranoia, you gingerly sit just close enough to him, leaning away when you see nothing but the Sun on his computer. “Dude, the brightness.” 

“Sorry. I got all the lights on next door.” 

“And you say my TV habits are to blame for our house bill.” 

“Damn, chill! Okay, so did I do this right?” 

You tilt your head and look where he’s pointing: one chart amongst a smattering of graphs and analytics. “What are you trying to show?”

“Correlation between quarterly earnings and model type.” 

“I mean, that seems pretty straightforward to me.” 

“Yes and no. We’re trying to gauge whether the newer shoe designs have the same longevity.”

Impossible. He should know the answer to that already. “Nothing will beat the OGs.” 

“I know,” he laughs. “Dunks are fucking untouchable right now.” 

“Right? Yoongi has like, fifty pairs.” 

“Huh?” 

Shit. 

“How’d you know?”

Fuck fuck fuck. 

Grasping for a ledge to latch onto, you remind him mid-freefall, “Bro, we give him two pairs every year. You haven’t noticed him wearing ones for every fit he has?” 

It’s not true. Well, the first part is true since your brother gets special privileges, being able to gift Yoongi an exclusive pair for every birthday and special holiday. 

But there’s no way the man wears enough to warrant you saying fifty. 

…Make that twelve medics. 

Your sibling is too quiet for comfort, but he ends up taking the bait. “I mean, maybe. Didn’t expect you to mention him is all.” He moves the cursor on the screen before thinking aloud, “Speaking of, I need to see if he ended up fu—” 

“It looks fine,” you interject. “Data is sound, but I would at least make a comparison with some of the older models around their same length of release.” 

“Good callout.” 

You’re glad that he’s a man of efficiency, because he moves to head out as soon as his question is answered. 

In fact, when you follow him to the door, it’s your curiosity that keeps him a bit longer. “Wait, why are you in charge of this? Isn’t your department…” 

“Yeah, it’s bullshit, dude,” he complains with a shut of his laptop. Nestling it against his hoodie, he explains, “But my partner is out sick, so I figured this would help.” 

Gotta hand it to your brother to be there if you need him. “That’s… really nice of you. Is this why you didn’t go with them?” 

He rubs his neck, a gesture you’ve been very familiar with for years. One he always does when he’s afraid to admit something. “Kinda. It’s due in the morning, but. I knew you weren’t doing anything, either.”

“Ah.” 

“I mean, this trip is cool and all, but holidays aren’t really…” 

“Our thing. Yeah.” 

As he mirrors your melancholic features, he gives a closed smile with no cheer. “Well, thanks anyway. I’ll leave you alone now.” 

“Go to sleep, dude. You’re pretty much done.” 

“Still need to make sure they all get back in one piece.” 

What? Why does he always take on everything alone? “I’ll stay up,” you offer. “You’re exhausted. Just sleep and send that thing in tomorrow.” 

After a moment of contemplation, he surprisingly relents with a yawn and a nod, and you wonder if he’ll follow through. 

For your own sanity, you hope he does. “Night.” You got through this surprise interruption unscathed, so if he would just go to sleep then everything will be—

“Wait.” 

“Huh?” 

“Your shades are open.” 

Spinning, you notice with fear that the curtains are still pulled to the side. Something both you and Yoongi must not have noticed in your haste. 

Oh. 

That’s right next to your bed. 

If Yoongi’s on the ground—

As your brother strides over, you try to stop him, “It’s fine!” 

He frowns over his shoulder. “What? No. You don’t want people creepin’ on you.” 

Your heart can’t keep a rhythm as he reaches the sliding door, pulling the curtains closed before glancing at the space next to your bed. 

What… What’s happening? Why’s he just standing there?

Voice tight, you ask, “You good?” 

“Yeah, I’m good…” Looking at you, he questions with a point, “When did you get that?”

You freeze, your heart pounding when you realize that Yoongi didn’t grab the jewelry pouch resting on the mattress. 

Upping the number of medics you need to fifteen, you flounder, 

“I— Got something at the jeweler.” Lamely waving one hand in the air, you feign normalcy as you just tell the truth. “When we all went together.” 

“You did?” He mercifully moves away from your bed then, heading back past you and towards your door. “Should’ve told me. I wanted to get something, too.” 

“It was a last second thing,” you tack on with a cringe, attempting to appear merely playful and not like your soul is leaving your mortal confines. 

“Ah, k. Well, I’m thinking of grabbing that Octomore I saw at the liquor store anyway. I can’t find it back home.” He finally makes his way to the exit, grabbing the knob with his free hand. “See you tomorrow.”

He closes the door with a soft click after you say goodbye.

And you let out the biggest breath you’ve ever held.

Holy shit. 

That was fucking close.

There’s no way he couldn’t hear your heartbeat bumping against your chest, right? Or did your body just give up entirely and flatline that entire time? 

“You talk about me like that?” 

Fliching, you clutch your chest before swerving around to battle Yoongi’s smugness with a glare. “You wish,” you whisper with bite, heart palpitations shaking your words on the way out. 

“Now I wanna know.” 

“Shut up.” Damn, your cunt really aches now with the adrenaline fading, and your face finally falters when you lean forward. “Fuck.” 

Yoongi’s there before you can blink, fully concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

“It hurts, baby,” you whimper. “I need you.” 

When he understands, a low curse shoots out. “Fuck, my condoms are in the room.”

“I have some.”

His eyebrows ascend. “You do?”

“Yeah,” you admit as you walk over to your suitcase. “Just in case we got to… Yeah.” 

“Same.”

You grab a packet from a hidden pouch before tossing it, and Yoongi catches it with ease before asking low, “You sure, babe?”

In return, you nod, because the ache is so overwhelming that you can’t think straight. All you need is the man next to the bed stripping quick, and you follow suit until he interrupts you with a soul-snatching kiss. 

Your hands are frantic as they grip his chest, his shoulders, the base of his hair. Breathing takes a backseat as you keep claiming his mouth, and he’s just as possessive with your lips as he grunts into your throat. 

“We gotta keep it down.”

“Mmhmm.” 

“Good girl.” 

After you slip into the bed, he’s close behind, kneeling while finally wrapping himself with deft fingers. 

Your body is thrumming with excitement as he positions himself between your legs, feeling comfort in his bare skin on yours while he pulls the covers over his back. 

A thought occurs to you as he whispers, “You ready?” 

And it’s how you can be anywhere in the world, in any situation, and yet feel so at home if he’s there. “Just for you,” you whisper, suddenly overcome with something more than yourself. 

He nods before reaching down, grabbing his cock to slide along your folds. “Breathe for me.” 

You nod, face scrunching as soon as he enters. 

As soon as Yoongi senses your discomfort, he stops, instead sliding fingers along your cunt before rubbing your swollen bud. 

“Missed you,” he admits, and you agree with your eyes as you fight back a moan. “So fucking much.” 

“Me, too.” You close fingers around his flexed biceps. “And I messed it all up.” 

You don’t really refer to anything specific. Because in your mind, you just messed things up in general. But Yoongi slowly shakes his head as he claims your lips, pleasuring your folds with a tenderness that blows your mind. 

“None of that,” he murmurs, and you swallow as he moves to insert his cock once more. 

You noticed with admiration that it’s much less of an intrusion this time, him slotting into your center with more ease and almost instant relief for your pulses. 

And just like that. 

He’s inside you. 

And your brother is right next door. 

“Holy shit,” you whisper, inexplicably on the verge of heightened euphoria already. “I’m—”

“Holy fuck.” 

“Yoongi, I—” You’re gonna come already. What the fuck you’re already gonna come? You knew you needed him to ease the ache but you didn’t expect just his ridges resting in your folds to be all it would take. 

“Doll—” 

“Hey!” 

Chills run through your veins, icing your heart over in one swoop. 

Because that was your brother. 

Yelling with a knock from the other side of the goddamn wall. 

…Did he hear you?

The universe can swallow you now.

Petrified and with one foot in the grave, you lock eyes with a Yoongi caught just as off-guard. 

What do you do? What do you do what do you do what do you do?

Blood sucked from every inch of your body, you simply yell back to your ceiling, 

“Yeah…?” 

“Getting food! You want anything?” 

Oh, what the fuck.

You’ve never experienced a more frightening rollercoaster. 

Relief is both fast and yet not enough to calm your racing heartbeat. Trying not to look at Yoongi’s growing grin you can absolutely sense, you shout, “No, I’m good!” 

“K!” 

Holy fuck. 

What in the fuck is happening right now!

“Seriously, check your phone once in awhile, geez.” 

“Good night!” you holler back in response, hoping, praying, begging that it’s the end of a conversation you never, ever wanna have again. 

When you think you hear your brother shut his door, your eyes finally seek Yoongi, who indeed breaks into a shit grin while you try your absolute hardest not to laugh in utter disbelief. 

Because what the fuck just happened! 

“Oh, my god,” you whisper before covering your wild smile with both hands, one laugh escaping your throat. 

Yoongi has to bury his head into your chest to stifle his own, and his body shakes over yours so deliciously that you feel like staying in this position forever.  

You almost cry from your muffled laughter, but it’s Yoongi that makes the next sound. 

And it is not quiet. 

“Baby,” you warn through your grin, and he digs his face deep into your neck while holding you close.

“Stop being so fucking cute,” he groans into your ear. “I might not make it, doll.” 

“Just stay like that.” 

“Uh uh.” He grunts when you laugh again, and he slightly breaks. “This is worse.”

When you chuckle at his predicament, he groans,

“Fuck.” 

“I’m not even doing anything!” you whisper with a smile, and he thoroughly disagrees with despair.

“Yes, you fucking are.”

You think you’re starting to get what he means, because with one twitch of his length, your jaw goes slack. “This—this feels really good.” 

He hisses before breathing onto your skin. “I’m gonna bust if I don’t move.” 

“Just a—little longer,” you gasp, straining your ears to hear any sounds from downstairs.

All you have to hear is the front door close. Once you hear that, you know the coast is clear and Yoongi can teach you all the lessons he wants. 

But holy fuck, this feels fantastic. 

“Babe—” 

“Hold—Hold on,” you breathe, your cunt thrumming around him with pulses so big you have to physically block yourself from coming. After being pulled back from orgasm multiple times tonight, the ache is once again making you crumble. 

But you hear it. 

The front door opening. 

Shutting after a few dreadful seconds. 

And Yoongi breaks down beautifully when you give him the tiniest go-ahead. 

“Fucking finally.” 

The way he rocks into you makes you moan so erotically that even you’re surprised at the sound, your whole body shoved up the bed and an arm flinging back to press against the headboard.  

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out, body bouncing with his insistent strokes as he sets the pace at one-hundred from the start. 

And you don’t blame him in the slightest, widening your legs to give him all the room he needs to wreck your shit, eyes shut in bliss as you hand over control. 

When hot lips close over a nipple, you arch up with a whine, and his hands come around your sides to claw love lines in your back. 

“So fucking nice,” he growls, before sliding a tongue to your other breast, licking in a way that has you zooming to the edge of paradise. 

You’re close. You’re already so close and it’s gonna break you into pieces. “Yoongi!” 

And he seems to sense it because he coaxes you straight through to the end. “That’s it, doll,” he guides, spearing so far into you with his last command, 

“Fucking come.” 

And come you do, light shooting across your vision as your entire body finally erupts, quivering so beautifully violent underneath him. Nothing exists except how you feel—infinite, limitless, fulfilled. Colors fill where the brightness reigned, and you’re quite sure you’re sailing across a vast ocean of spinning stars. 

But your vision slowly returns, with blurred lines and an image of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

No. Not an image. 

Someone very real, and someone looking at you like they want nothing else. 

“Baby,” you plead, feeling the lust and desire and something even more dangerous rise back to the surface. Because you want more. You need more. “I want… I want—” 

He kisses you deep, and you grip onto his chains. “What do you want, love.” 

“You. Fuck me. Teach me. Do what you want, just”—you pull him in—“I need this—”

Your arms are gripped before they’re pinned above your head just like before, and Yoongi wastes no time in thrusting forward, claiming your lips before you let out a sob. 

His strokes are much harder, much rougher, and they’re exactly what you want. You don’t know when the hell your brother is coming back, so you want to make the most of whatever time you have. And this is exactly what you need. 

Sparks alight in your bones, you tug on his hair, grunting his name and suddenly clamping onto his hips like a vice. 

And he moans in a higher pitch before hissing, surprising you with a goad, 

“Just like that.” 

“Huh?”

“Tug on my shit,” he grits, humming with eyes shut when you yank his head to the side. “Fuck.” 

You’ve forgotten how much he actually likes that, since you apparently go for his hair regularly anyway. But you make it a point to pleasure another part of him, pulling him close and choking him with your other hand.

“More,” you command in his ear, and wings batter your stomach when his curve goes lopsided and his cock twitches in your cunt. 

“Turn around.” 

You groan in want, straining to flip when his cock slips out of your pulsing folds. When your ass comes around, you buck forward with a moan when there’s a sudden bloom of pain. And you whine to the headboard when Yoongi does it again. 

“This fucking ass.” 

You bury your face in the pillows when he takes your cheeks in large palms, molding them before pushing them apart to reveal a view that would make you incredibly shy. 

He lets out a half-grunt, half-hum as he grips your hips, hoisting them up before he grabs a pillow to slide under your belly. When you wiggle your ass, he huffs before slapping his cock against your folds, sliding inside with a frustrated sounding groan.

Pride bursts in your chest when you hear that. Because you’ve heard that one before, and it’s not true frustration. In fact, you’ve let that one out yourself—when you can’t fucking wait to get this man alone. 

Yoongi digs strong fingers into the folds at your hips, and you only get one warning in four words, 

“Bite that fucking pillow.” 

Your teeth close around the case for a single second before you’re open-mouthed, stroke after stroke after stroke making you a useless mess on rented sheets. You don’t even know if you’re saying your thoughts out loud or not, but they’re gibberish anyway, broken syllables and a repeating of his name—over and over and over again. 

Suddenly, a hand closes around your mouth, and Yoongi’s chains slide along your back when he hisses in your ear, 

“The fuck did I say?” 

You let out a high hum in response, completely forgetting that you had one job and you failed at it. But the way he still hasn’t stopped ramming into you makes you crumble on the bed, and you revel in this position of him folding you back and shutting you the fuck up. 

Your mouth is freed before your head is pushed down, and your teeth know what to do as you go straight for the pillowcase, your hand coming up to bunch more of the material inside—

Wait what’s—what’s he—oh, fuck! 

Before you know it, your hands are snatched up, pinned against your back as he launches into a furious pace. “Mmm!” 

“Teach you to think I’m not yours.” 

“B—”

“As if I don’t wanna give you my shit—”

“Fu—!” 

“—so you can walk around everywhere with it on.” 

You scream into the pillowcase, arms thumping onto the bed when he mercifully lets your hands go. Immediately, you brace yourself with sore arms while he tugs on your shoulder, bending you back again and showering you with praise. Like how you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad, and how you’re taking his dick so well. 

You also have praise for him, but you’re very sure yours will come out as screams if you so much as let up off the cloth material. So you can only whine into cotton, tears streaming down your face in rivers. 

The point. You get it. You get it you get it you understand it so fucking well. 

Apparently, this is something you do say out loud, because you’re released back onto the mattress before Yoongi yanks himself out of your throbbing folds. 

Your body is being turned while your eyes struggle to refocus, drool sliding down your chin as you lay flat on your back again. But you can’t do anything about it because he’s already kissing the shit out of you, one hand on your head and the other forearm making a crater out of the mattress at your side. 

You look like a wreck, but your emotions fare far worse. 

Because Yoongi decides to switch up the pace, going slow enough to make you sob into soft lips rubbed raw.

Praise, reassurance, more praise. All of these things fall on your features and into your ears, and you hold onto him as if he’s your last lifeline. 

“God, I can’t wait to feel all of you.�� 

And that’s when you break completely, knowing that your eyes are closed and knowing that he’s kissing you deep but seeing him and hearing him so clearly. 

You can’t believe you ever doubted him. A whole two days’ worth of self-loathing and regret floods out of your eyes, and your apologies come out in streams.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.”

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s on me.”

No, it’s not. All you had to do was ask. You didn’t need to assume shit and there’s no way he could’ve known what you felt unless you told him. 

When you give a vigorous shake of your head, fingers you adore clasp yours, and your hand is pressed into rumpled sheets next to your wet cheek. You’re so caught up and entirely whole that you don’t even realize where you end and he begins, don’t even register that you’re coming again because he’s already made you feel that fantastic. 

But he moans against your mouth before you feel his weight bear down on your chest, and you gently command into his damp strands, 

“Come for me, love.” 

At your whisper, Yoongi relinquishes, coming with force with a bite to your neck—as if that alone would brace himself against the torrent in his own core. Strong arms encase you as he shoves himself inside, and you feel the way he pulses again, and again. And again.

Then everything suspends in the night air. 

When he floats down from his high, his weight is a beautiful burden, and you nestle him into your sweaty chest. Not worried yet about when or how he has to leave, but instead showing him your feelings by running fingers through his hair.

Throat scratched, he tells you that he’s sorry, too.

To which you soothe with a soft, “Don’t be.”

Because you revealed a wound that still hasn’t healed, and he didn’t back away at the sight of it. Instead, he was only upset that it was there in the first place, and proceeded to try and fix it as best as he could.

Who does that? 

Certainly not someone that would hurt you, too.

Yoongi slowly props himself on an elbow to smooth a hand over your tired head. And even though his eyes twinkle with words, he doesn’t utter a single one. 

So neither do you, simply gazing up at your favorite stars and wondering how their beholder outshines every moon. 

“You did so well for me earlier, you know,” he finally says with admiration. “No way you’ve never done that before.”

You simply shake your head, eyes droopy but creased when he smirks in disbelief. 

“What are you doing to me?”

You wearily chuckle before playing with one of his chains, happily reminded that he really got you jewelry, too. 

“Please stay a little longer,” you wish in a wisp. 

And you feel comfort in his surefire, “I will.”

After a quiet, careful cleanup, Yoongi holds you close while you both listen to your TV in bed. 

Your brother had come back while you were both in the bathroom, and the two of you only looked at each other when you heard the next door over close. 

A hushed conversation determined that Yoongi would only stay for a few more minutes, but neither of you bring it up when a whole seventeen of them fly by. 

Instead, he tells you that he knew your brother didn’t do holidays, but he didn’t know you felt the same way about them, too.

You say it’s one of the things you have most in common, but you do kinda want things to be different. Happier. Very much unlike how you felt over the last eight years or so.

“I want them to be memorable in a good way,” you sigh into his bare chest. Content, you realize, “Guess this is a pretty great start.”

Your shoulder is squeezed before you hear a rasp, “Sit up real quick.” 

“Hmm?” When you push yourself upward, Yoongi slowly situates himself against the headboard, and you don’t know where this is… headed… 

He just took off a chain.

“Wait, what are you…” Butterflies fluttering against your ribcage, your breath catches when he drops it into your hand. 

“Keep it.” 

Feeling his warmth lingering on the thin links, you question with everything you have, “…Why?” 

Yoongi simply shrugs. “Just something I wanted to give you a long time ago.” 

“But you already gave me that necklace,” you stutter out, “And apparently went through all that trouble.” 

“Trust me,” he counters, pointing while still planting his hand on the mattress. “You gave me a lot more trouble right before I put that on you the first time.” 

Oh. 

Remembering the night you took him by surprise, you definitely agree with that. 

Speaking of surprises.

“I, umm. I have something for you, too.” 

He blinks twice. “No way?”

Nodding, your smile is big when you slip out of bed, going into your bag and getting out the one thing you bought so far. 

When you hand Yoongi a very familiar pouch, you watch with glee as he opens it, hoping that he’ll like the bracelet with links similar to most of his chains. 

With warmth in your chest, you notice that it best matches the one he just gave you. 

“You weren’t the only one that bought something,” you admit as he looks at you with incredulity. “I, umm. I saw you looking at that and grabbed it. Before we all left that day.” 

“You did that? For me?” 

With just a touch of sorrow, you confess, “I almost kept it for myself after all the… Yeah. But it’s yours. If you want it. Obviously, you can return it if you—” 

He kisses your cheek before whispering, “Thanks, doll.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

“I used to have one like this.” 

“What happened to it?” 

He lays it on his fingers while recalling, voice low, “Think it got stolen. But it’s all good.” 

“If someone steals that one I’m coming for them.” 

A huff. “I wanna see that.” 

“Hey now. This wasn’t cheap, punk.” You gently take his wrist, putting on the bracelet as well as you can with your nails—and shushing his playful roasting when you struggle. When you finally clasp it on, you hold up his arm with a smile. “Look! Now we match.” 

He looks at you with eyes that give you the shivers, his expression one that you wanna sear into your memories forever.

And you can’t believe you’ve been so stupid. “I really am sorry,” you apologize with a heavy heart, cradling his fingers in yours. “I should’ve just trusted you.”

“I get why you don’t.”

Your chest pangs as you close your hold. “Stop. I’ll work on it. Okay?” 

“Me, too.”

This man doesn’t need to be bogged down by what affected you before. Besides, he’s miles above whatever quicksand you found yourself in the last time, so there’s not even a reason to compare.

You can do it. If you can try thinking differently about the holidays, maybe this can be dealt with the same way.

Especially with Yoongi. 

…As long as you can keep whatever this is with him up.

It’s reached that point: the one where you both know a line is approaching and you can’t pass it. 

He’s gonna have to leave soon.

So you hold his hand tighter before both of you peel off the covers, getting up and slowly making your way to the door with his lips secured on yours.

“You okay?” he asks when he grabs his dress shirt to sling on, and when you nod, he nods his head before looking at his buttoning.

You watch, silent, as he puts the rest of his things on, wondering if he expected things to go this way. Because you certainly didn’t, and you couldn’t be happier. 

After all, you got to see a side of Yoongi that you had never seen before. Seeing him take complete control, painting his face even darker shades, watching as enjoyed your reactions…

Wait a minute. 

Hold on a dang second!

Eyes narrowed, you pin him with a glare as he finally finishes putting on his shoes. “Hey, wait…” 

“Huh?”

“You wanted to teach me that you were mine… But I never even got my turn. Shouldn’t we have started with me?” 

Oh, that sneaky man.

He grins so smug that you wanna wipe the whole curve off his face, and his wink makes you gasp before whispering in indignation,

“You little—!”

When he bobs his shoulders in quiet mirth, he enjoys the tiny pout you give. “It wouldn’t’ve lasted long anyway.”

“Now you’re just rude.” 

His lip bite is so handsome that you almost miss the dash of shyness. 

Or was that your imagination?

“Maybe next time, doll.”

Ugh. You huff. “Fine.”

Yoongi slides the door open before checking outside. When the area seems to be clear, he turns to give you a quick kiss before making his great escape, and you watch with awe as he silently makes his way down. 

And to think this is the same guy you had heard stories about back then. Behavior as lethal and punchy as a shot of whiskey but his head matured like fine wine.

You slide the door shut with your head full of thoughts.

Eyes going from the chain in your hand, to the wall that separates you from your brother, you suddenly come up with an idea. 

“What did he want again?”

“I think he said Octo-something,” you wonder to yourself, scouring the liquor bottles in front of you while Namjoon and Seokjin search with equal movements.

With all of your big coats taking up the tiny local store, you muse that it may look a bit silly. Or intimidating. Or both.

“He said Octomore,” Yoongi corrects from a few paces away. And your blood runs cold at Jimin’s glance behind him before he smoothly adds, “Pretty sure he would’ve said that, anyway.”

All the medics. You’re just gonna need all of them.

“That’s it,” you concur before letting out a huff. “There are so many bottles, what the hell?”

Namjoon suddenly straightens and leans to the side. “Wait, that’s a scotch, right, Yoongi?” 

“Yeah.”

“Oh, then why are we—” Your eyes follow as the man strides down to the front of the aisle, checking the signs before spotting what he needed to. “Over here!”

Everyone follows him to the shelves labeled Scotch, with Jimin breaking off to see what Taehyung’s looking at under the Wine sign.

If they buy a bottle, there’s no way it’s not finished by the afternoon. 

Once in the correct place, you notice that there are three Octomore choices, all black or grey cylinders with neat branding. 

Great. 

Seokjin’s quick to ask, “Well, which one?” 

“Hmm.” You think hard about what your brother mentioned before, and finally remember after a few seconds, “He didn’t say, but he said he can’t find it back home.”

Yoongi suddenly rotates one of the containers before his question is full of surprise, “They have this here?” 

“What is that?”

“The twelve point two.” He doesn’t elaborate, but his eyes are confident. “It’s this one.” 

“If you’re sure. How much is it?”

“Too much. But we’ll split it like you said.”

“Okay. Let’s hurry so Hobi doesn’t have the car running too long.”

“K.”

When you both leave the aisle first, you miss the look that Jin shares with Namjoon. 

Your brother’s yell is already worth it.

“What! When did y’all get this?”

“When you and Kook were still snoring.”

“Hey, I don’t snore!”

You speak up while an argument suddenly bursts, “You said something about it last night, and I figured, why the hell not? Eight years is long enough to go without a real gift.”

“But how did you know which one?”

“You can’t find that one anywhere,” Yoongi fills in, and your brother smiles at him before looking down at the bottle with soft eyes. 

“Damn. Thank you.”

“You wanna open it? We can all try some.”

You’re met with laughs from both guys, and they give each other a knowing look before your brother shakes his head.

“Y’all would hate this.”

“Really? Why?”

“You know what they say,” he shrugs, going to the kitchen island before popping open the can. “About fucking around and finding out.” 

Something about that statement makes you hot under your cheeks, and you contain your mischievous smile as you slide eyes to Yoongi. 

Who, unsurprisingly, is fighting back a look of his own.

“Will I really hate it?” you question him as the conversation in the living room fills into the kitchen. 

He shrugs. “It’s all subjective, but. You’ll see.”

And see you do three minutes later, with you wincing and coughing as soon as you sip. 

It tastes like nothing you’ve ever drank before. Why are you tasting rubbing alcohol and firewood? Why are you licking a dying campfire with fruit splattered on top?

You must look thoroughly disgusted because everyone is suddenly laughing, and you slowly shake your head before handing the glass to your brother.

“Worst gift ever,” you insult through a wince, getting more reactions and bobbing shoulders.

“Best gift ever.” Your brother sniffs the scotch before humming. “So good.”

“Well, as long as you’re happy.”

When he looks grateful, you think this can be the new tradition instead: him getting a shitty whiskey and you telling him how horrible his taste is. 

And maybe. Just maybe.

You and Yoongi can stand much closer next season.

You still cannot believe last night happened with no repercussions. After a full last day of the trip, you’re still expecting something to blow. But nothing does. 

However. 

When everyone is enjoying the dinner that Yoongi helped Seokjin cook, Taehyung goes to lean on the wall beside you, voice low as he holds his plate, 

“Heard you had some happy holidays after all.”

Watching the other boys chat and laugh around the living room, you shrug before feigning a sigh. “I mean, as much as I could.” Turning, you apologize, “Sorry about your leg, by the way.” 

He laughs under his breath, and you shoot him a look before his smile turns sly. 

“Don’t even worry about that.”

And your heart stops as he goes to whisper in your ear,

“Jimin and I came back when your brother left. You thought he left you in the house alone?”

You freeze.

The front door.

That’s why it took awhile to close.

Your best friend sounds downright devious as he speaks again, and you can positively say you’ve never heard him like this before, 

“I gotta say… I get it, babe.” 

He smirks while looking away.

“Y’all sound fucking hot in bed.” 

-

-

-

fin. :) 

-

how was ittt !! 💌 would you like to buy me a 🍊?

A/N: AHAHAHA SO... how did it go? how did the special that shouldn’t have ever happened turn out? lmfao i really hope you all liked this one. if not, i am so so sorry and you can yell at me. if you liked it, yell at everyone that sent in messages about the window scenario including window anon pfft. also, nicki got the gift of his chains right !! also octomore 12.2 is really desserty!  A/N 2: made a separate blog just for 3tan if you wanna follow @threetangerines​ <3 it’s 3tan unfiltered, so any absolutely filthy asks you would like to send, go ahead and let loose over there! also, the kofi is for any support you would like :D pls don’t feel pressured unless you truly wanna support me in that way and if you’re in a good position to. i appreciate anything i receive there!  ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ three tangerines masterlist ⇥ masterlist 

[anika-ann]

Precious Night, Holy Night - S.R.

Type: one-shot, establishished relationship, Christmas-themed

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 3,8k

Summary: The space is drowned in shadows, the night having fallen longs hours ago, the only source of glow being the Christmas lights and you, somewhere in the depths of Steve’s sanctuary. At least, that is what he hopes for.

His watch buzzes lightly, reporting that yet another hour he spent away has blended into the next one; and without checking, he knows it’s even worse. Not another hour – another day. Christmas Day.

He left you alone for one of the most special nights of the year.

Warnings: : light angst with hurt and comfort, light issues of self-worth (hello Stevie my dear), mentions of blood and injuries and injury-related pain (not reader), a bit of swearing, Steve being an angsty sap in love (totally a warning)

A/N: Inspired by a lovely song by Janek Ledecký – loosely translated lyrics through the text can be skipped of course. (If you’d like a listen, it’s here; what I adore most about it is the simplicity. No serenades, no extraordinary notes to hit, nothing, he doesn’t even pronounce properly at times – just an ordinary man professing his love, much like I feel Steve would). Divider by @saradika-graphics Enjoy and belated Happy Holidays 💕

Stepping into the apartment feels like the strangest dream; a dream that despite the soft warmth of his home feels fragile to touch, exposed to the cold coil of anxiety.

The space is drowned in shadows, the night having fallen longs hours ago, the only source of glow being the Christmas lights and you, somewhere in the depths of Steve’s sanctuary. At least, that is what he hopes for.

Hope always is a fragile thing, an antithesis to the solidity of fear; and as he closes the door as quietly as he can with one arm in a sling, he wonders whose fear is more suffocating. Yours, that one day, he won’t walk through that door after one of his many missions; or his, that one day, the figurative goblet of patience of yours will overflow and he will come back here only to find the space screaming with emptiness.

He knows the answer, objectively. But the heart and the head are not always in agreement; and he’s a lot more selfish that people seem to think.

His watch buzzes lightly, reporting that yet another hour he spent away has blended into the next one; and without checking, he knows it’s even worse. Not another hour – another day. Christmas Day.

He left you alone for one of the most special nights of the year.

You sleep, the clocks strike a late hour midnight is creeping step by step and behind it, Christmas

The clocks strike, like a cry for help as I await the longest night so that I could turn and look back

The pendulum cuts heavy through the air the vicious circle slowly closing – an anxious feeling drawing claws

There are moments like these when guilt bites heavy and sharp into his gut, his chest full of an ice-cold selfish fear. And he might know that you, staying behind and hoping he comes back alive, have it so much harder than him; but how could he ignore the obvious fact that you are a blessing that his own actions might chase away eventually? A blessing he never wants to let go and guards it with his life?

It is just that the very life sometimes gets in his way. The world does too; the goddamn world he too swore to protect and cannot ignore, because it is a world he lives in and so do you, and he’s saving it for its own sake, as well as his and yours.

And he cannot stay back, cannot merely bear witness from afar. He never could.

That was how he got into the whole mess of waking up seventy years into the future in the first place; that is how he was taken by the all-consuming storm of loving you so much the feeling alone makes it hard to breathe.

Sliding the strap of is shield casing off his shoulder, shrugging off the coat half-draped over his back, he cranes his neck a bit, feeling the stiffness; he nearly dozed off in the car, the heavy coil of dread as well as the giddy excitement of coming home barely keeping him awake. For once, he was grateful for Tony’s flare of dramatics and luxury and private drivers – driving in his state would not be wise, even as Steve would probably handle it despite his exhaustion. The problem was the snowstorm. And yet, even for that, he was grateful; as he walked home, the wind and the sharp snowflakes cut into his cheeks, prickling in his eyes, the sensation jolting him awake.

A little punishment for needing to be a hero; a little punishment for leaving you to be exactly that.

He shakes the melting snowflakes from his hair, ignoring the waves of ache in his left arm crashing down his forearm, then runs his unharmed hand through the wet locks. A few tips almost frosted over, now already giving way to the warmth of the space.

Taking off his boots too, Steve sighs, gulping against the lump that has grown in his throat, and steps further into the apartment, an anxious hope thrumming in his bruised ribcage.

Halfway through the strangest of nights you sleep, on your lips an absent smile – and I’m so afraid I don’t deserve to be so lucky – you dream, and on your lips a whisper: my love

Listening intently over the thunderous pulse in his temples, his shoulders slump suddenly, another tug of pain in his flesh; but by god, he is happy to have the pain ground him in the moment of reality, for it truly feels like a dream.

Your slow, regular breaths.

For the smell of Christmas and all the visual clues – from the decorations, the lights, the plate of gingerbreads you had baked together just before he left, down to your shoes and coats – it was the sounds of your peaceful sleep that undeniably proved your presence with finality. And soothed him.

He truly was coming home. And despite the mission not being a light one, despite his arm being broken in two places, despite the mission lasting way too long to his liking and happening with the worst possible timing – this is the thing that makes his eyes sting with tears.

This and the awfully sharp memory of him leaving, having got the call between decorating gingerbreads of the most ridiculous work-related shapes and preparing dough for Christmas cookies.

It’s so vivid in his mind, the image etched into his brain and bones. Your bright smile slipped, the gorgeous light in your eyes dimming, giving way to resignation and bravery. The mirage of joy dissipated in front of Steve like the steam from above the cups of hot chocolate he had prepared for you two to enjoy, his hands as if reaching out to hold onto it and only grasping air.

“Sweetheart-“

“I know, Steve,” you said, already moving to the sink to wash your hands, hiding your face away from him and tearing his heart in half not with the crack of emotion in your voice, but with the clear effort to mask it.

How he wished you’d screamed at him instead, mad and teary; because a wild emotion like anger meant people cared.

And that was his greatest fear, wasn’t it? That one of those days, you wouldn’t even care anymore.

You wouldn’t care whether he was with you; you wouldn’t care if he came back, because you’d be long gone. How many times had he cancelled dates, called off trips? How many times had he broken promises, only just a little, because he tries not to promise the impossible?

How he did wish he was capable of impossible, just for you. But he couldn’t.

How many times would finally be too many…?

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I-“

“Steve. It’s okay. I get it,” you said, turning to him at last. The glimmer of tears in your eyes – waking sensation in his chest awfully reminding him of the one time he had had a punctured lung – showed him just how wrong he had been.

No, he’d rather you didn’t care at all, that you didn’t hurt like this for him. Or did he? He was not quite sure.

But he sure knew that being the reason for your tears, even if kept at bay, was like an eagle’s claws sinking into his chest and pullingand pulling until it seemed it couldn’t even hurt anymore, but it did. Every damn second.

But you held your head so high, gaze shakingly latched onto his to prove he did not have to worry, because you understood his sense of duty; he did not have to worry, because that was what you agreed to deal with when letting him put an engagement ring on your finger with happy tears and a string of the sweetest yes, yes, yes-- that he did not have to worry at all, or not much at least; and that worried him all the more.

He’d pull a miracle if he could, he would, just to see you smile again, just to--- anything. But he could not ignore this, he could not ignore people needing his help, that was what he was born and made into to do, after all; but so was loving you. He wasn’t sure if he believed in fate, but there had to be a special kind of higher purpose in finding you after all the years of loneliness and yearning for someone just like you; you were made for each other, star-crossed lovers battling odds of being born seven decades apart. He must have been destined to meet you; destined to love you.

And now he was disappointing you, again.

How long until you’d stop believing that this was love?

How long until you’d move on to someone was here, always, because that was what your tender heart deserved?

No. Steve would pull a miracle, he had to, just to keep you smiling; just to keep you. A week had to be enough. No, to hell with a week, he’d be done in three days just to make it home in time-

“I’ll try my damnest to be home for Christmas, I promise-“

You shook your head gingerly, eyes turning warmer despite its wet glimmer, your smile a little wobbly – but oh so brave – as you reached out to cradle his face in your palms.

They smelled like gingerbreads and sugar and gentleness he wasn’t quite worthy of.

“Don’t, Steve…” you whispered, his heart dropping to his feet, an icy shiver cutting through his spine. “I… I don’t need you to promise that.”

“What can I do, then? What do you need?” he pleaded, the desperation at missing your Christmas, again, creeping into his voice so acutely he felt he might have shrunk several inches, all the way back to the times before the serum, a too little man, a fierce fighter who’d throw fists with determination much greater than his actual power.

Fighting; but oh so vainly.

Please, just let me fix this--- for you, for us. I have to go, I really do, but I’ll do anything to make up for not being here-

Your smile was a little broken by the edges, like one of those sculptures of angels, weeping for humanity and loving it all the same.

“What I always do, love. For you to come home in one piece and try your damnest to do so,” you echoed his words, your slightly hoarse voice growing stronger at the curse; and so did the steel of determination in his gaze in response.

Because he’d be damned before disappointing you that profoundly. He was always going to tear the world apart to get back to you.

“That I promise.”

That I can do. Always.

“Good,” you breathed.

You stood up on your tiptoes then, bringing your lips to his, pouring love and courage and fears he was too aware of into the kiss, much like wordlessly speaking your plea.

Come home. Come home to me in one piece.

And he would. Oh he would.

‘If we can’t cancel the stream of time,’ you said ‘then I only wish for one thing – for you to never leave me’ ‘alone, I’m a sailboat without wind’ And your lower lip wobbled, soft so I held you, with a vow to try my best

Following the sound of your breathing on instinct, Steve’s own hitches in his lungs, his steps ceasing far away from the bedroom. Instead, his gaze finds you laid on the couch with a view of the tree, sleeping soundly, a fluffy blanket draped over your form; and Steve’s heart aches, along with his neck, as if with sympathy for yours.

You admitted it before, under soft duress, that you sometimes struggled to sleep in the empty bed; you even joked that with how large Steve was, it truly was practically empty, your laugh a little shaky. As shaky as Steve’s legs now felt, the weakness having little to do with the exhaustion of the mission draping over him and everything to do with finding you home, losing sleep without him.

Bucky joked that maybe they should just lie under the tree once they get home, for their dolls to find them in the morning, like the greatest gift to unwrap at Christmas: because they made it home and made it in time.

Steve would argue with the latter; and about the former too. With how the couch was situated, made so you and Steve could rest, bodies half-tangled and your head on his chest, it is that you are now positioned like the greatest gift there could ever be.

And you are.

With your profile illuminated by the soft glow of Christmas lights, Steve is drawn to you like a believer witnessing an icon come to life; a miracle. You, still home, still awaiting him. As your hand fists the comforter, hands almost to your lips, your neck is exposed and so is the hem of Steve’s old shirt you chose as your attire along with a pair of too-long sweats peeking from under the blanket; his again.

Not just awaiting then; missing him. Caring.

His heart swells, the suffocating anxiety slowly giving way to something much more tender.

He steps closer, crouching in front of the couch, eyes feasting on the holy image, tempting to his touch. He does not want to rouse your sleep and yet, he swears he might die if he didn’t touch you this very second, didn’t see your smile upon seeing him home again – and as late as he is, still in somewhat in time.

Home for Christmas – hasn’t he said so?

He’d have run barefoot through the streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn had the traffic frozen on the frozen streets, just to make it home to you. He’s glad he didn’t have to do that – but he would. After all, what is a little frostbite if you’d kiss him once he got home? Your lips could melt away the Arctic itself, your embrace a safe haven on the raging seas; he’d take another decade in ice if it meant meeting you. It if meant being loved by you.

Halfway through the strangest of nights you sleep, on your lips an absent smile – and I’m so afraid I don’t deserve to be so lucky – you dream, and on your lips a whisper: my love

As his gaze roams, he notices the light salty traces on your cheeks; ribcage rattled all over again, guilt gnaws at his stomach. You aren’t crying in your sleep, but at some point, you have cried. And it could have just been a sad song, or one of those cheesy but still touching Christmas movies, but his conscience knows better.

You have cried for him.

Worse yet, maybe you have cried because of him.

Hand twitching to sooth the pain already gone, he closes it into a fist instead; he would only be soothing himself, easing his guilt. You have cried and he hasn’t been there – whether that was correlation or causality didn’t matter. It was done. He shouldn’t disturb you. He’ll grab a little snack and sleep off the mission and start making up for his sins in the morning.

Glancing towards the kitchen area, he sighs quietly, gritting his teeth to stand without a hiss of pain.

“Steve…”

He freezes mid-motion, eyes snapping to your face again; a faint smile on your lips, your fingers flex around the comforter again.

In an instant, Steve snaps into preparing for explanations, apologies, his mind a whirlwind of whats and whys and sorries—

And then he realizes you are still asleep.

The soft waves of affection washing over him as he hears his name fall from your lips again nearly suffocate him all over again, the most pleasant weight settling in his heart.

And an uncontrollable urge. You have cried for him; but now, you are dreaming of him and there are no fresh tears; not in your eyes anyway. His fingers twitch again; no more worthy or justified than before, but with painful numbness which can only be erased by finally touching you.

He reaches out carefully, the pads of his fingers laid tenderly over your knuckles.

Due to all my missteps and fails should’ve been long out of the door

So now I whisper into your hair that you won’t get rid of me that easy

You all but stir minutely, a sweet frown to your brow, your breath remaining steady; Steve’s inner turmoil might not be resolved, but is eased enough as not to disturb you further. This is just enough; just enough to keep him sated and exactly as much as he deserves, not more, he thinks, mind set.

His fingers have a mind of their own however, guided by his heart.

The lightest brush over your hair, over the arche of your eyebrow, over the slope of your nose, over your soft cheek and the gentle line of your jaw, his fingers stopping but a breath from your parted lips. He commits your features to memory, revisiting a piece of art he knew by heart but would always reveal something new to him in its timeless beauty.

The brief discontent rumbling from within your throat and your body curling onto itself brings a smile to Steve’s lips as the memory of many mornings – those where he got to wake you up softly, himself already an hour or two ahead for the day – flashing through his mind, his fingers inching further, your breath tickling his skin before he dares to touch your lips.

And then, slow blinks, a sleepy gaze and pursed lips, curling up in a breathtaking smile.

Steve’s heart skips a startled beat, caught red-handed; but he’d commit the crime all over again, because you’re smiling.

The first time, the second time, every time he sees it; his breath hitches again, his ribs crying out; but he could die a happy man right there – maybe only if you kissed him.

You cover his hand resting on your cheek with yours, pressing a quick kiss to his palm, melting all his doubt away.

This. This spark of joy and relief, scrambling to sit up even as you slightly sway because he’s woken you up from a deep slumber, your eyes roaming his figure, taking count of his injuries, checking if he is indeed home in one piece.

And Steve is counting too; his blessings. You are every single one of them, even as you sigh at the sight of the splint and the no doubt still spectacular bruise the shape of a fist over his right eye.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispers before you can scold him, or say anything at all, his voice shaky, a traitorous tear escaping his eye at the all-consuming emotion etched into your gaze, your sweet features.

Your free hand moves to cradle his cheek carefully, so tenderly for the fear of pressing too hard and making it hurt that it does hurt him – in all the best ways. His eyes slip shut at the sensation, his aching ribcage so blissfully full of affection he might burst.

And it might as well, when he feels your warm breath fanning over his face, before your lips press gently to his forehead.

Halfway through the strangest of nights you sleep, on your lips an absent smile – and I’m so afraid I don’t deserve to be so lucky – and you dream

“Sweetheart,” he echoes, a creak in his voice he is not proud of – but he feels some of your hot tears join his and his hand slips to your waist, guiding you to slide down the couch to join him on the floor, to hold you close and he could weep forever – not because you brushed over his broken arm despite your best efforts, but because it feels like he can finally breathe again, your body pressed to his, bruised ribs or not.

“Did I not tell you to come home in one piece?” you scold him without malice, a wet laugh escaping his throat as he nuzzles your hair, his lips brushing over your temple, your cheek, breathing you in to overwhelm his senses with you until his lips finally, finally find yours, careful but just as eager as his.

And the kiss tastes so much sweeter than the retort forming in the back of his head about how he is in one piece; his bones might not be, but the soft tissues are and the serum and the fast intervention of the talented Avengers Initiative doctors made sure that even his bones are already mending.

Judging by the look in your eye when you retreat to gulp in some air, you heard that train of thought anyway, despite being but an ordinary, extraordinary human. You convey so much emotion in a single glance, let alone with such lingering look.

You look like you want to call him two halves of an idiot and maybe smack him for whatever stunt you knew he pulled, even if you don’t; you look grateful he is your whole idiot and he is still here for you to smack him. Or kiss him again. He’ll take either; as long as you care.

As long as you love him, just as he loves you.

“I got home for Christmas at least?” he offers, earning an exasperated grimace, once again displaying your dilemma.

You choose to kiss him again, softly, a silent involuntary whine escaping him as you let him angle your head to kiss you deeper and consume you whole, and this, if this isn’t heaven, if this isn’t the best Christmas gift ever, you curled around him in a ridiculous shape less than three feet from a Christmas tree, he’ll be doesn’t know what is.

He doesn’t care. He only cares that he has you.

Later, he’ll marvel at how you automatically move to take a turkey out of the freezer to prepare for a Christmas lunch instead of dinner, how you saved him a sandwich just in case, and how his gifts, so thoughtful, are wrapped for whenever he’d come home; how you give him a certain kind of look and caress his cheek and peck his lips when he weakly suggests that you don’t and didn’t have to do any of that, but you never listen.

How your every action is a testimony to how you do not care about when you celebrate Christmas, only that it’s with him.

But for now, he has everything he wants and needs and could ever wish for. It still feels like he wished for too much, more than he’d deserve; but today, he can. It is Christmas, after all, and you are his everyday miracle, his greatest gift.

And for all the greatest gift he gets, he will work for hard every day – and he will cherish it and protect and adore no matter the time of year, keeping the most important promise he ever gave you.

He will always come home; and he will always, always love you.

I swear to you, I don’t always make it easy I swear to you, you won’t get rid of me that easy I swear to you, I’m never gonna leave you I swear to you – and you sleep, unaware my love

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you if you gave this a read, even post the main Christmas time ✨ If you find a minute, feedback is life 💕

May the end of the year be kind to you ✨

[punksyeet]

ᰔᩚ Under The Mistletoe ᰔᩚ

Plot: Gianna (OC) and Josh spend Christmas Eve at a party, and end it with a night from their dreams.

Warning: Lots of flirting & light smut (mostly teasing)!

A/N: merry belated christmas to all who celebrate. i hope everyone had / is having a safe and happy holiday season. this one-shot is christmas themed, so please ignore how late it’s coming out. life kinda unexpectedly got in the way around the holidays. anywho, that’s all. i hope you guys enjoy this one! 🎄♥️

—————————————————————————————————

The faint sound of Chris Brown's "This Christmas" echoes through my bathroom as I apply one last layer of lip gloss in the mirror.

Tonight, for Christmas Eve, I was invited to a house party by my boyfriend Joshua.

It's taking place at his twin brother and sister in law's place down in Orlando.

I'm usually not the party type, but I'm super excited.

Reason being, Josh has been on the road with his job over at WWE a little extra lately, since they're doing a bunch of live shows as well as televised tapings.

In other words, if I didn't see him enough before the holidays, that man is an absolute ghost now.

I put my makeup away and fluff out my hair, making sure I'm satisfied with it, before leaving the bathroom to get dressed.

When picking out my outfit last night, I decided to go with something elegant yet super chic and flattering.

After all, I'm gonna be pulling up with the finest man in the world so I gotta look good!

I step into a red lace lingerie set, followed by a strapless, long sleeved, sheer cotton body-con red dress.

Just as I'm finishing up spraying some perfume, my doorbell rings.

I check myself in the mirror once more before heading down.

I take a deep breath and open the front door to a gorgeous sight: my man dressed in all black, alongside his gold chain and silver jewelry on his wrist and ears.

"Damn ma," he mutters, scanning my body and sexily licking his lips. "You look good as hell."

I playfully roll my eyes, my arms folded over my chest and body leaned against the doorframe.

"Hello to you too Joshua," I tease, smirking.

He chuckles and steps inside, sliding his hands across my waist. "My bad, mama. You caught me off guard in this dress though forreal."

"Well thank you," I reply, closing the door behind him and wrapping my arms around his neck. "You look handsome as always."

He smiles and leans in, pressing his lips to mine.

I automatically kiss back and give him a couple more pecks before pulling away and wiping my lip gloss off of his lips with my thumb.

"I missed you mama," he exclaims, sliding his hands down to my ass and giving it a tiny squeeze.

"I miss you too baby," I reply, rubbing his back. "Lemme just throw my heels on and we can head out."

I turn around and walk over to the shoe cubby near my basement door.

"What's the rush?" Josh asks, leaning against the wall. "The party don't start for another two hours."

I grab my shoes and sit on the couch, to begin putting them on.

"I told Trin I'd help her set up," I reply. "And besides, if we stay here, we both know we'll never make it in time."

He smirks and bats his eyelashes innocently. "I don't know what you mean."

I shake my head smiling, as he sits down next to me and grabs my face, attacking my cheek with kisses.

"Boy enough," I playfully scold between giggles, pushing him away.

He chuckles and smacks my ass as I get up. "Aight. But when I bring you back here later, that ass is mine."

"Yeah yeah," I brush him off, making a shooing motion with my hand. "Whatever you say."

He smirks and, hand in hand, we walk out and to his car.

"After you my lady," he coos, opening the passenger door and holding out his hand.

I smile and take it, intertwining our fingers.

"Thank you lovebug," I reply, kissing his cheek and stepping in.

He kisses my hand before letting it go and shutting my door.

Eventually, he hops in and we're off.

The car ride is filled with small talk, laughs, thigh rubs, and stolen kisses.

I missed this so much.

—————————————————————————————————

Hand in hand, Josh and I walk up the steps to the front door and ring the doorbell.

Trin and Jon's dogs, Marley and Tank, automatically start barking from behind the door.

"Giiiii!" Trin squeals, wrapping me into a tight hug once she opens the door.

I giggle and hug back, as she rocks us back and forth.

"Hi Trin!" I reply excitedly, once we pull away. "You look amazing."

"Me?!" she shrieks, holding her hand on her chest and scanning my body up and down. "Bitch, look at you! Look at this body!"

She hypes me up, snapping and getting low in front of me.

I flick my hair back sassily and we share a laugh.

"Hey hey," Josh butts in. "She's mine, sis. Get in line."

"Oh shut up!" Trin replies, playfully whacking him and wrapping me into another hug.

I laugh, hugging back and stick my tongue out at my man.

He glares in response, smirking.

After greeting Josh with a hug as well, she invites us in and shuts the door.

"Jurdy!" she calls, standing by the banister. "Hurry your ass up! Jey and Gi are here!"

"I'll get him," Josh announces, giving me a quick kiss and running upstairs.

I chuckle and head over to the island, where there's a butt load of decorations.

"You two are so cute," Trin coos, joining me and separating all the decor.

I lightly blush, smiling. "Thanks, sis. I couldn't be any more happy."

She sticks out her bottom lip. "It shows, girl. You're absolutely glowing!"

"No pun intended," she adds, nudging me.

We share a laugh and quick hug before getting started.

"You can start on the table," she orders, opening up a package of red and green helium balloons that spell out "MERRY CHRISTMAS". 

I give her a thumbs up, head over to the dining table, and immediately get to work.

I pick out some cute plates, wine glasses, and utensils from her kitchen, as well as some beautiful candle holders and trees that smell of fresh pine.

About ten minutes later, the entire living area is complete and filled to the brim with Christmas cheer.

Trin claps and squeals. "It looks amazing!"

I giggle and look around, smiling. "It really does."

She holds up both of her hands, facing me. "We did that!"

Chuckling, I accept her offer and we share double high fives.

As we're cleaning up excess wrappers, Jon and Josh appear near the stairs.

"Dang it looks nice in here," Jon compliments, looking around.

"Thanks boo," Trin says, walking over to him and kissing his cheek.

I smile and finish perfecting the table before they all join me in the kitchen.

"The table looks beautiful ma," Josh coos and kisses my temple.

"Forreal," Jon agrees, throwing an arm around me. "You did your thing, sis!"

"Aww thank you guys," I reply, smiling softly and side-hugging him.

A little while later, it's officially 6pm and guests start pouring in.

The guest list includes a bunch of family and family friends including: Jon and Josh's parents, Joe and Galina, Sefa and Almia, Dwayne and Lauren, Jade and Brandon, Bianca and Kenneth, Sarona, and more.

—————————————————————————————————

It's a couple hours into the party and, while the guys are out in the backyard having drinks and talking, us girls are in the living room gossiping.

"I'm gonna go grab a refill," I announce, getting up and grabbing my wine glass. "Anyone want anything?"

Everyone politely declines and goes back to their conversations once I walk away.

I head into the kitchen and grab an open bottle of Pinot Grigio from the counter, when I feel a pair of arms wrap around my waist.

"Hey gorgeous girl," Josh greets me, nuzzling his face into my neck.

I smile softly and turn to face him, leaning against the counter.

"Hi love," I greet back, running my fingers through his curls. "You having fun with the guys?"

"Mhm," he hums in reply. "It's real nice to have everyone reunited, you know?"

I nod smiling, and adjust his collar.

"Whatchu doin' with the girls?" he asks, stroking my sides.

I shrug, wrapping my arms back around his neck. "Not much. Just talking, that's all."

"That's good baby," he replies, removing a curl from my face. "I'm happy you're having a good time."

I smile softly and nod. "I am."

He smiles, grabs either side of my face gently, and kisses my forehead.

I blush, brushing our noses together.

While I'm looking up at him, I catch a glimpse of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling.

"Whatchu lookin' at b-" he stops in his tracks when he follows my eyes and looks up, a goofy smirk falling over his lips.

I giggle and hide my face in his chest.

He chuckles and taps my butt playfully. "Hey, hey. Don't get all shy on me now, girl. You know the rules."

He gently removes my head from his chest, cups my face, and pulls me in.

From the second our lips connect, butterflies are swarming in my stomach.

With every stroke, the kiss gets more and more heated.

Tongue.

Innocent touching.

The whole nine yards.

When we finally pull apart, he presses his forehead to mine, giving us both a chance to catch our breath.

"Come with me mama," he orders quietly, holding out his hand.

I nod, taking it. "Where are we going?"

He kisses my forehead and smirks. "Upstairs. Babygirl, I'm gonna give you a Christmas present you'll never forget."

My eyes go wide as he strokes my hand with his thumb. "B-but the party..."

"No one will notice we're gone ma," he reassures. All the guys are drunk off their asses anyway. Come kick it with your boy upstairs for a bit."

A soft smile appears on my face as he brings my hand to his lips and kisses it softly.

"I'll take that gorgeous smile as a yes," he continues, in between chuckles.

He leads us upstairs and into the guest bedroom.

** light smut warning! **

Once the door shuts behind us, our lips are connected once more, my back pressed up against the cool wooden surface.

The longer the kiss lasts, the more clothes come peeling off our bodies.

"So fucking beautiful," Josh coos, stroking my sides once I'm completely out of my dress.

I blush in reaction to the compliment and take control, grabbing his hand and leading us to the bed.

I order him to sit down and he does, looking up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes that I love so much.

They soon move lower onto my body as I give him a show, sexily removing my undergarments and straddling his lap.

Sliding my hands up his chest and slowly grinding against his now rock hard bulge, I lean down and connect our lips once more.

"Mmm fuck," he groans into my mouth, eventually shoving his tongue down my throat.

A few minutes later, we pull apart and switch positions.

"Lay back baby," he demands, his voice lustful and deep, just above a whisper. "It's gonna be a long night."

My breath hitches as he gently pushes me back and hovers over me, his cold chain ever so slightly caressing my breasts.

** light smut over! **

"I've missed you mama," he mutters into my neck. "Let me show you exactly how much."

And, boy, does he ever.

Liked by uceyjucey, jonathanfatu, trinity_fatu, thegalinaanoai, and 9.8k others

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[heliads]

Hello may i request a Thomas ( oh original ! ) the maze runner imagine ? when the reader had a childish spirit in the glade, always smiling, bubbly, friendly toward everyone. But in the scorch, she is a different person, she is more violent with words less affectionate and she is pessimistic. Thomas discover her change of personality and decide to confront her about it. Thomas and the reader are together. (Angst and fluff maybe)

Ps : HAPPY HOLIDAYS 🎄🎁🫶

happy belated holidays!! the true gift is thomas

masterlist

Thomas has seen a lot in the meager few months he remembers being alive. There’s the Maze, of course, the terrifying behemoth of stone and ivy enclosing life as he knew it inside massive walls. There were the Grievers, sickening creatures. Thomas can still hear the screams of his friends being torn to pieces by those beasts. There were also the graves of past Gladers who lived and died without ever escaping. He saw enough loss to know the costs of surviving.

One of the worst sights Thomas has ever experienced, however, might have to do with what living did to his friends. They’re all shell-shocked in some way; Minho laughs less, Newt’s eyes grow weary, Teresa becomes more restless by the hour, but the worst of all is Y/N. Y/N, who brightened all their days back in the Glade with her relentless optimism, who has now become some cold version of the girl they all care for. That might be the deadliest blow of all.

Thomas has always liked questions. The other Gladers could tell him that much, what from the way he used to never stop asking about the most benign details of the Maze. Thomas has never had much to hold against the truth:  as long as curiosity is his best friend, he doesn’t get stuck in that ugly, familiar pattern of giving up before answers are found.

Right now, though, Thomas thinks that he would prefer to shut his eyes again. If he blocks out the world, if he pretends that everything is fine and nothing has changed at all, maybe everything will go back to normal. Maybe he’ll wake up and Y/N will be just the same as ever.

The change happened slowly, piece by piece and fracture by fracture. The Scorch ruined them all, that much is clear, but it did something worse to Y/N. She stalks through the desert like a predator waiting to hunt, and when they face something or someone they have to fight, she becomes a person Thomas has never seen before. She loses some part of herself with every bit of danger that crosses her path. At some point, there will be nothing left, and that is what scares Thomas the most.

She wasn’t always like this. Thomas only had a brief period in the Glade before things turned sour, or at least more sour than life trapped within the stone walls of the Maze with no memories save his own name. In that short time, though, Thomas met Y/N, and he liked what he saw enough to fall in love.

It was easy, falling. Easier than breathing. Easier than dying. She laughed, and the world laughed with her. Thomas watched as Runners dragged themselves out of the Maze, burned out on what their meager lives had to offer, but one conversation with Y/N had them smiling like nothing was the matter. She was the only one who could talk Gally out of a foul temper every time he wanted to start a fight. Well, every time but one, down in the depths of the ruined W.I.C.K.E.D. structure, but no one likes to think about that.

Even Thomas, terrified out of his mind that nothing made sense when he was certain that it should, wasn’t immune to Y/N’s optimism. He remembers sitting with her out on the grass, watching the sun set. There were moments on Bonfire Night when he knew he would give her the world, and early mornings just before he set out for the Maze in which one look her way gave Thomas the courage of thousands of men.

It was good back then, and Thomas wishes he had the hindsight to appreciate that before they escaped. Something happened in between their journey out of the Maze and the present day, something to turn Y/N’s ever-present grin into a deadly glare. She doesn’t smile like she used to, she doesn’t smile at all. It’s rare that she’ll speak more than a few words at a time, and those are always tinged with a foreign cruelty.

Thomas has racked his brain about a thousand times, searching for clues he never picked up to explain the change in Y/N’s behavior. Every time, though, he comes up short. If Grievers and memory loss couldn’t shake her, why this? What do the shifting sands of the Scorch hold to torment her so?

He still holds out hope that maybe they’ll make it to a safe place and Y/N’s fierce temper will leave her. One day far in the future, Thomas could wake up to her laughing just like before. It could be alright. The others have given up on that, but Thomas holds on.

Then again, the others don’t share in the love that Thomas feels for Y/N, so maybe that explains it. He’s heard the Gladers murmuring when Y/N isn’t around, shunning her cold eyes and curled fists. Thomas wants to defend her, but he gets the feeling that she almost enjoys her new reputation, using it as a shield to block out the rest of the world. If her friends can’t stand her, then surely her enemies will all but run the other way.

They need to count on her loyalty, though, and given all the changes to Y/N’s character, Thomas knows the others doubt even that. There is no time for second guessing friends turned into foes, there are already far more villains than anyone could ever need.

The small, struggling group of Gladers has to pass through a section of a Flare-ravaged city. Skyscrapers that must have been impressive once upon a time are broken and bloodied by rust now, bits and pieces disappearing by the day. The metal has lost its shine, the glass stripped of all but its ability to cut through flesh like butter. Everywhere Thomas looks, he sees places where maniacs could hide, or sharp chunks of debris that could be used as weapons. 

It’s not on his bucket list of dream destinations, to say the least, but they have no other choice. Circumnavigating this broken metropolis would take them days they don’t have. If they don’t reach the hideout of the Right Arm in time, they’ll all die in this godforsaken desert. The Gladers can risk a few Crank attacks if it means making it to a source of potential allies.

That’s what they tell themselves, at least. Still, Thomas doesn’t miss the way the group draws into itself, shoulders brushing against shoulders as they pretend they’re not half so scared as they actually are. Every time the wind whips around a desiccating office building, sending rivets and bolts scurrying down the road, everyone jumps about a foot.

One uneasy night and day later, they’re almost out. Thomas has just started to formulate the trembling hope that they might be able to pass through without incident when he starts seeing things out of the corners of his eyes. Shadowy creatures jump back into obscurity whenever he cranes his head for a better look, but the second Thomas redirects his gaze towards the road ahead, they creep back out again.

The others see it too, Thomas can tell. They all shift closer and closer together until they’re practically walking into each other with every step. Still, it’s better than the alternative. Somehow, he gets the feeling that naming those silhouettes aloud would finally allow them to charge.

Even with the maintained silence, the figures in the shadows don’t care much for inactivity. The bounds of the city are just in sight when the shapes start making noise. The streets echo with it, a cacophony of clicks and jeers, howls and coughs. The unearthly symphony makes Thomas shudder, cold slicking over his spine like fingers made of ice.

Thomas just has enough time to think that it sounds like a war cry when the silhouettes give up their lurking and pounce. Cranks appear out of nowhere, sprinting towards the Gladers with all the speed that complete and utter insanity gives you. Thomas sees some figures so damaged by time and the elements that bones poke out of their legs, but they still run like they’re competing for a national title.

Minho shouts for everyone to go, go, but it’s not like anyone wants to stick around. The Gladers hurl themselves towards the city limits; most Cranks are territorial, they give up the chase once prey heads further into the desert. That’ll be their only hope. Thomas picks up the rear, dragging friends forward when they stumble and praying that they all make it.

This side of the city is surrounded by a low wall, most likely to keep Cranks out. Now it just serves to keep sane humans in. Minho turns towards a section that’s started to crumble and jumps up with ease, perching on top to start hauling people over. It’s slow going, though, and the Cranks aren’t giving up their chase.

Thomas picks up a fallen piece of metal scaffolding by his side, swinging it experimentally like a baseball bat before turning to face the oncoming mass of Cranks. The first few go down easily, but the numbers aren’t in his favor. Someone joins the fight on his side, thankfully, and Thomas dodges a blow before turning to see who’s sticking their neck out to keep the creatures at bay.

To his surprise, it’s Y/N. She faces down the Cranks, expression grim but determined. She also wields a chunk of debris, and Thomas watches as she impales a nearby Crank before finding another victim. Thomas has a vague, fleeting memory of Winston joking about how Y/N always got totally grossed out by the amount of blood the Slicers had to deal with. Now, she’s chopping through Cranks like they were those same farm animals doomed to the blade.

Minho shouts to the two of them, and they abandon the fight to scale the wall as well. Once in the desert, the Gladers continue running, but they slow down once it’s clear that the Cranks won’t be following. Hands on his knees, Thomas catches his breath. He looks over at Y/N, searching her face for some sign of kindness. After all, she just risked herself to protect him against those Cranks.

All he sees, though, is that same blank pessimism that’s come to haunt him. Y/N catches him looking and eyes him coolly for a moment before deciding that even the endless sands hold better entertainment and turning away. Thomas is left to wonder why she would care enough to save his life but not enough to reward him with a smile.

Dusk rushes upon the land, making further travel impossible. The city had been in their way, and now they’ll need the light of morning to illuminate where they should travel next. There are a few buildings past the wall, twisting remnants of the city. Thomas recommends that they stay the night in that shelter, as it’s the best they’ll get for a while. Even after he closes his eyes, Thomas swears he can still feel the shadow of the infected city looming over him, practically breathing down his back.

It makes sleep impossible, to say the least. Eventually, Thomas gives up on fidgeting from side to side in the hopes of unconsciousness and quietly gets up, retreating to another hall in their temporary hideout to refrain from waking the others. His pulse skyrockets when he hears a noise, but he’s able to settle once it grows obvious that the source is not a Crank but another Glader. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one unable to fall asleep.

Thomas draws closer to the source of the sound. He heads into a nearby room and spots a silhouette crouching in the corner. A broken out window lets moonlight race through the cracks and towards the other occupant. Thomas blinks, and he realizes it’s Y/N. Y/N is not doing well, though. Something is wrong. The tones of her skin are different, darker in places than expected.

It’s hard to see, what with the shadows still pressing ominously around everything, but Thomas thinks– yes, it is, that’s blood covering almost half of her body. The scarlet stuff is practically painted on her, palms up to the elbows, dotting her face like gruesome freckles. He realizes that she must have gone back to the city and rid it of its mad occupants once and for all.

Y/N is staring back at him now, daring him to say something. Thomas swallows hard and tries not to sound too horrified. It’s not an easy task.

“I’m not sure it’s the best thing to be so covered in Crank blood,” he manages to choke out at last.

Y/N just laughs. It’s a bitter, harsh sound, and it reminds him a little too much of the shrieks and giggles of the infected. “I’m immune, Thomas, it doesn’t matter. They can’t do anything to me but die.”

“Still,” Thomas begins, but his courage fractures. Still, she shouldn’t tempt fate by being so careless around potential pathogens. Still, she shouldn’t be this far removed from someone Thomas knew without even falling victim to the Flare.

Y/N stands slowly, and it takes everything in him for Thomas to not flinch. “Go ahead, judge me. Say what you want. I know you and the rest have been too afraid to mention it to my face, but you can’t keep it back forever. You hate me. You’re scared of me. Just say it.”

Thomas shakes his head. “I’m not scared of you. I just miss you.”

Y/N spreads her arms. The gesture is meant to be welcoming, but Thomas can’t stop staring at the blood dried across her skin. “I’m right here, Thomas. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“You have,” he whispers back, “the girl I met back in the Glade, she’s gone. I think you left her there. I don’t know who you are anymore, but she’s not my friend.”

Y/N draws back as if slapped. “I’m still me. You might not like it, but I’m me. I changed to survive. We all did. It’s not my fault if you want to keep clinging to an illusion. This is who I have to be if I want to live.”

“And what about the inhabitants of that city?” Thomas asks pointedly, “Didn’t they want to live?”

Y/N gives him a cross look. “They wanted to live before they became Cranks. I’m making sure people who come after us will find a safe place to hide from everyone else. You can go on believing in fairytales, but at least one of us had to grow up. Maybe it had to be me.”

Thomas sighs, the ghost of the sound circling the two of them on disappointed, broken wings. “I don’t want to believe in fairytales, Y/N. I just want to believe in you.”

“Then do it,” she says softly.

“I wish I could,” Thomas replies.

It’s quiet for a minute. Thomas thinks she might hate him. Then, her voice comes again, barely discernible in the darkened room.

“Did you love me?” A pause. “Back in the Glade. Did you love me then?”

Thomas’ throat feels tight. “I loved you then, and I love you now. I just need to know that you’re not going to leave.”

“Not more than I have, you mean,” Y/N corrects.

“Yes.” Thomas puts it plainly.

They both know what it means, how far Y/N has gone from the girl he once knew. For once, though, Thomas thinks that he might have made some headway in correcting her course.

Y/N stares at her hands, starting to rub them together as if trying to wash the red from her skin. “I can’t get it out. The blood.”

“I’ll help you clean it,” Thomas answers her unspoken plea, “I’ll help you today, and every other day after that. You just have to let me do it.”

Y/N looks up at him now, and seems to question something before nodding at last. “I will.”

It’s as close as she’ll get to an apology for now. Maybe later, once the dangers settle, they’ll have a better ending. Thomas is happy with this, though. In a world such as theirs, it’s all they can ask for. They can try again.

requested by @hope92100, i hope you enjoy!

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[astrodances]

Oooo for the drabble thing how's about

"Would you kill me if I sent you flowers?"

and you know this just oozes scroldie 😆

Yes, it most certainly does!! 😁 And thank you for the prompt!

Happy (belated) Valentine's Day, and I hope you enjoy this! 💜

AO3 link here

_____

The Love Language of Nature

Want to send a special message to your Valentine? Say it with flowers!

Goldie’s eye caught on the flier taped to the inside of the window in front of her. She’d been walking through downtown Duckburg, between errands, heist-planning, and errands for heist-planning, doing some window-browsing. Every window display was making her painfully aware of the upcoming holiday, yet she still took time to take note of things she couldn’t help but want to get for her special someone. Because of course she would.

The flower arrangements displayed before her were admittedly beautiful, and Goldie had seen plenty to compare around the world in her years. But these were close, were here, and the store offered free delivery with purchase if booked a week or more before the big day.

And the flier’s implications were making it all the more tempting. It listed a whole slew of flowers, and their special, hidden meanings.

She wasn’t the best with words, she knew that; maybe flowers were her love language?

Browsing through the list still, she pulled out her phone and asked Siri (Louie had given her a smartphone 101 walkthrough a while ago, insisting that she needed to “up her tech game to at least the basics, c’mon” if she was going to pull off schemes in the modern age, and especially with him) to call Scrooge. She couldn’t wait around for him to answer a text (which she was very good at, thank you very much) lest she lose her nerve.

It took him three rings to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sourdough. Would you kill me if I sent you flowers?”

“That depends, are they poisonous?” Scrooge asked, not missing a beat.

There was an elevator ding in the background on his end, then more of an open din, and Goldie knew he was at the Money Bin. She automatically turned to the behemoth structure in the distance, as if it would amplify their conversation, and her ensuing indignation.

She let out an offended squawk. “Hey! No they are not, thank you, but if you’re gonna be like that, then never mind!”

He laughed, and the sound reminded her why she did want to send the flowers, darn him. “Hey, it wouldn’t be the first time,” he unfortunately had to point out.

“Yeah, well...”

So sending him a bouquet of lilies, tulips, and lupine from a mythic beast’s wedding from the Underworld to rid herself of a curse hadn’t been her finest hour.

He lived.

“Would you kill me if I sent you flowers?” Scrooge asked, reversing the question.

A blush bloomed through her cheeks instantly. “I...n-no...” So much for not being cursed - her heart was getting softer by the second these days, it seemed.

“Then there’s your answer, dear. Look at you, being so thoughtful.”

Goldie’s brain was ready to self-combust at that, but she had to recover some of her dignity as this call came to a close. A quick, stabilizing breath, and- “Yeah, yeah, just try to forget this conversation ever happened, Sourdough. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sounds grand.” There was a squeak of his old desk chair as he sat down. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Despite the teasing, the warm smile was what remained as Goldie hung up and scanned over the flower list once more before strolling into the flower shop. The air was intoxicating with lovely, fresh scents - heck, all flowers were poisonous if they made her feel like this, this...light, giddy, and airy, and despicably drunk with love.

“Hey there, welcome to Rhoda’s Dendrons! Anything I can help you with today?” the young duck with curly black hair behind the front counter asked.

Goldie’s roving gaze snapped to her as she approached. She tapped a finger on an identical flier from the window that was laminated and taped to the counter’s glass top. “Yeah, I’d like to order some flowers for delivery...”

_____

On the evening of Valentine’s Day, an elaborate arrangement of flowers sat atop Scrooge’s dresser in a tall, multi-tiered golden vase. A pamphlet version of the store’s flower guide, with the bouquet’s choices checkmarked with hearts in a sugary pink ink, laid waiting on the floor next to the bed, its seal broken despite the bashful protests the sender had put up for its recipient to wait to read until the next day (or until her near-impossible death, thanks immortality).

(She had insisted that the pamphlet be included, on a whim of courage, because as embarrassed as she would be, she was also pretty sure he wouldn’t have a clue about the language of flowers, as far as she knew.)

And thankfully, he had read it (as she sat next to him on his bed in half-mortification, half-burning-desire, holding his hand and looking away, his own squeeze growing stronger by the second between sounds of amusement and adoration), because she had been immediately bombarded with hundreds of loving kisses when he finished reading, and now they laid entangled together, happily exhausted, utterly closer in heart, and basking in a symphony of floral aromas.

On the pamphlet, the following flowers were checked off:

Blue salvia - I think of you

Dahlia - good taste

Heliotrope - eternal love, devotion

Lady’s slipper - capricious beauty

Lilac - joy of youth

Pink rose - happiness

Red camellia - you’re a flame in my heart

Red carnation - I admire you and am missing you

Red rose - love, I love you

Red salvia - forever mine

White camellia - you’re adorable

White chrysanthemum - truth

White clover - think of me

Yarrow - everlasting love

[differenteagletragedy]

Hello, are your requests open? If so, do you have any hcs/thoughts on Cove with a shy mc that works in the aquarium as a professional mermaid? Like, how he found out, how he feels about it- (how his dreams at night change after this revelation lmao)

If not, then please don't mind this request! Thank you for all the fics that you wrote, they bring a smile to my face every time you upload❤️

Belated Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to youuuu

This is extra sweet because it's a shy MC! Bless these little babies.

-- If you're shy, then it probably took a lot for you to go for this job, good for you! So since this would be a bit unexpected probably the best way to tell Cove would be to surprise him.

-- You line everything up, sneak off to training, and on your first day you just tell Cove that you should meet at the aquarium! Even if you live with him at this point lol, you can't go together, you've got some errands to run, your moms need help with something, whatever. It's ok to fib for the first part because it's for a surprise!

-- But he is a little sweetie who will do anything for you, so sure, he'll meet you there! You tell him to meet by one of the big tanks, the ones where those mermaids are sometimes. He is very down for that.

-- Mermaids are a thing for you and Cove, they always have been. You talked about them when you were little, when he got his cast off sometimes you'd play mermaids when you went to the beach. You still played mermaid sometimes if we are being honest. They're his favorite mythological creature, obviously. He's gotten you little gifts with mermaids on them.

-- So he gets to the spot and you're not there yet, that's fine, he'll just watch the mermaids! Oh look, there's a new mermaid! That's cool OH MY GOD IT'S YOU

-- Jaw dropped, eyes wide, he better not have been holding anything because it would be on the floor. Because there you are with a FANCY MERMAID TAIL in the AQUARIUM and there are FISH swimming with you and why is this everything he never knew he always needed.

-- Just total awe for this whole part. And like he'll think it's hot too, come on.

-- But he is so proud of you! What a neat job, and way to step outside your comfort zone! He'll have a billion questions about how you got the job, what made you want to do it, can you play with the fish, can he touch your tail, etc.

-- He wouldn't think to do it the first time, he'd be too amazed, but eventually he'll start taking so many pictures and he'll look at them a lot. Just very very often.

-- He will also tell anyone who will listen (actually listening is not a requirement) that you're his partner.

Cove: See that mermaid right there? The prettiest one? They're with me.

Toddler who didn't ask for this: I LIKE ARIEL

Cove: *smug smirk* Yeah she's pretty cool too.

-- Lol not his dreams

-- He may have looked up how mermaids hook up and then deleted his entire search history over and over, tossed all those cookies straight in the trash. If you ever found out somehow, he would deny it until he's on his deathbed, then he would deny it again with his last breath.

-- Ok so I'm not super sure on this one but I thought about it and want to throw it out there: what if Cove gets a tattoo of a mermaid for you? Not like with your face or anything, but maybe it's got your hair color or the tail is the same color as the one you wore.

[writertitan]

Perennial // Part 2

a/n: hello! i'm a little late, but here's to a belated bday for levi! and happy holidays to those who celebrate!

pairing: levi x fem!reader

overall themes: fantasy AU, strangers to lovers, traveling through realms, explicit content

part 2 themes: worldbuilding, reader annoying levi, some softness

read part one here

You weren’t in the temple anymore. You turned and watched as Levi seemed to come out of thin air, a little out of breath, but the both of you remained intact, still joined at your hands. With a racing heart, you let go. Whether the pounding of your heart was due to what just happened or this incidental moment of physical touch, you didn't want to know.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked, raising your brows. “Why are you out of breath?”

Levi frowned at you, wiping the last bit of sweat off his brow. He seemed almost surprised at your question, but his face eventually cemented back into nonchalance.

“What did I say about asking questions?” he mumbled, walking in front of you to lead the way.

You took in your surroundings as you walked behind Levi, feeling that wonderful sense of peace embrace you. The mirror had taken you to some kind of valley. Mountains that were so high they reached the sky flanked you at both sides, mostly rocky with bits of greenery here and there. The valley you walked on was what was lusciously green, a river cutting through the moss and soft grass. You noticed you were following the direction the river’s water was running, but looking behind and in front of you, there was nothing but this view for miles and miles.

You wanted to ask where you were going and where you had come to, but you knew better by now. Best to just let Levi lead the way.

Part of you also knew that you should still be absolutely losing your mind right now. There was still no logical explanation as to what was happening to you, but it was like this valley stifled those feelings. The air was still and calm and smelled a little sweet, and the night sky was still sprinkled with an astounding number of stars and meteors shooting across the sky. The moon was still bright and big above you, its craters clearly visible. You admired it for a moment until you slowed your steps, confused. Earlier, when you’d liked behind you to examine the length of the river and valley, you saw the moon there, peaking over a mountain. Had it orbited to be in front of you so soon? You whirled around just to make sure, eyes like saucers when you saw…another moon. Just as bright, maybe a little smaller.

“What the fuck?” you choked out, tripping over your own two feet.

“What is it?” Levi asked. You turned to face him, your heart racing, and with shaky hands, you pointed each hand towards each moon.

Levi seemed to immediately understand, and his jaw set a little, his smoky eyes on you in an instant, looking wary. He took a very slow, very gentle step towards you, as if you were a scared animal that might run away with any sudden movements.

“We’re almost there, Embla,” he murmured, deliberately calm. “Just a few more minutes until I can know for sure you’re really safe, and then—”

“We’re almost where?!” you shrieked, your entire body trembling. That calming feeling was ebbing, making way for your undiluted fear. “I’m freaking out, Levi! You’re asking me to trust you when I don’t even know you! You won’t even call me by my actual name. And I don’t know where I am, but I’m clearly not…I’m not where I should be. I’m in a place I’m not supposed to be in.”

“That’s right,” Levi said, his response immediate. “You came from somewhere else. I know it’s scary, but you need to take a deep breath and calm down. There’s a reason I’m making you wait for answers and taking you to a specific place. Please, Embla. I need you to trust me just a little bit longer. I’m going to help you.”

You were hyperventilating and frozen in place. And, even though you were outside, where everything looked and felt endless, you had never felt so stifled and claustrophobic in your life. In a weird way, it felt like you were trapped in your body, which didn’t make sense.

“I can’t move,” you gasped out, and Levi’s gaze softened.

He closed the distance between the two of you and took hold of your hand, the warmth of his palm blazing through you. As if on cue, your heart raced within your chest again, like it had before after going through the mirror.

“I told you not to stay still for too long,” he whispered. “Take a deep breath.”

You did as you were told, albeit the breath was pretty shaky, and then closed your eyes as the air whooshed from your lungs. Levi’s hand squeezed yours and you let yourself focus entirely on that, opening your eyes when you felt him manipulating your hand until your palm was facing the sky and your fingers were spread wide. His pointer finger traced some invisible symbol on your palm, a few times over, until your heart began to slow and your breathing steadied, and your limbs loosened up.

You took a step toward him, bumping into him with how close you were, and then you were acting without thinking. You threw your arms around him and hugged him tight, needing the comfort more than anything. He was stiff and you ended the hug before he could even really react, but you felt much better.

“Let’s go,” he muttered awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. You bit back a smile when you noticed his ears were pink. His embarrassment was enough of a delightful distraction to keep your blood pressure down.

Levi was right about not needing to walk that much longer. Within a couple of minutes, you were standing in front of the rocky wall of a mountain, bare of anything other than more rock. However, Levi took a step forward and placed both of his hands on the mountain, whispering something you couldn’t make out, until a low rumble filled the air. You watched in shock as the mountain wall shifted, a crack in it expanding until you realized it was opening up for you. It was dark inside, so dark that you couldn’t see how big the inside was, but you followed behind Levi anyway.

A few steps in and you heard that rumble again. Turning your head, you watched in horror as the mountain’s opening closed behind you.

“Levi!” you half-whispered, half-shouted, tugging at the arm you were holding onto for dear life.

“It’s supposed to do that,” he replied casually.

When the mountain fully closed you in and you were swallowed by the darkness, that’s when light brimmed out.

You blinked in surprise as what could have easily been little stars of light came to life, came out of nowhere, and guided you down the remainder of the rocky hallway that you now realized was rather short, and led to a wooden door that was perfectly framed into the inside of this curious mountain.

Levi opened it with ease and you followed him into the room, the lights following you, and you gasped a little as more light bloomed in the large room you entered.

Candles lit themselves atop an iron chandelier above you, and even more ignited along the walls. Shelves and alcoves had been carved into the rock itself, filled with trinkets, jars, books, and loose pieces of paper. Despite how many things there were, everything seemed to have its own little place, and it didn’t feel cluttered. A few velvet chairs decorated the place, the biggest one placed at a wooden desk that was shoved against the wall.

“This is weird,” you muttered, though you were very much charmed by it. “Where are we?”

Levi was quiet for a moment, and then motioned for you to sit in a chair. You took an emerald green velvet chair, taking off your backpack to place on your lap, while Levi took the deep blue one across from yours.

“This is a safe place for you. One of my many hiding spots,” he explained. “It’s guarded, I promise. No one gets near this place unless I allow it.”

“Okay…,” you murmured, looking around before letting your gaze settle back on Levi. “I still have, like, a million questions, Levi. What happened to me? Do you know? You seem like you know.”

Levi frowned a bit at that, then nodded his head once a little, though he seemed hesitant to.

“I don’t know how, exactly, you managed to get here. But you’re in Eldia.”

The words struck you like bricks, a shock to the system.

At first, you wanted to laugh. You were in total disbelief at what he’d just told you.

“Eldia?” you repeated. It felt like you had blinked a thousand times in one second while trying to process what he was saying to you. “Eldia’s not real.”

Levi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before saying, “It would be great if you could skip past the denial stage. It would save both of us so much grief.”

Eldia.

Eldia.

There was no way he was being serious.

Eldia was a story. A myth. Another realm where magic beings walked the earth and held the power of Titans. A realm full of beings that were tied to the devil and had tried to destroy humans. It wasn’t real.

“I know that humans don’t believe anymore. We prefer it that way and even had part in making it that way. As far as I know, we cut off every…point of entry, I guess is the right way to put it. You technically shouldn’t even have access to us,” Levi said. “You can imagine the shock of knowing a human being made it over to our side.”

It felt like all the blood rushed out of your face. Your backpack suddenly felt very heavy in your lap.

“It’s not real,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

But how else could you explain everything? You’d had this sinking feeling the entire time, that you weren’t in the right place. That you weren’t in your true reality. And mirror and the sky and the moons and everything…it all pointed to Levi telling the truth.

“I’m gonna throw up,” you groaned, tilting your head back until it collided with the plush velvet of your chair.

“Please don’t,” Levi said with a grimace. But you could see that he looked nervous, which was odd. You were the one who should have every right to be nervous, and that was at the very least. If you were in Eldia…you were most definitely in danger.

“I don’t understand. You don’t look like a Titan. Shouldn’t you be, like, a hundred feet tall?” you asked. Levi was short and looked…normal. He looked human.

Levi didn’t answer, though. He frowned, clearly bothered by what you were saying, and you decided to focus your attention back on fighting the urge to be sick.

You really did feel lightheaded and dizzy, but maybe that had something to do with the fact you hadn’t eaten in a while and maybe you were dehydrated. On top of the fact that you’d accidentally teleported into another realm, of course.

With a trembling hand, you unzipped your backpack and pulled out a stolen treat, ripping open the package to shove a handful of chips into your mouth.

“We’ll have to get you something to eat from here, too,” Levi said, watching you crunch on your chips. “From what I vaguely remember, your body will need to acclimate to this realm. That’s why I’ve been telling you not to be still for too long.”

“Will something bad happen to me if I don’t acclimate?” you asked through a mouthful of chips. Levi didn’t seem too pleased at your lack of manners but didn’t comment on it.

“I should have explained better. It’s not quite your body, but your soul that’s attached to your body. It just…freaks out, as you put it. Like earlier, when you felt you couldn’t move, that was likely your spirit trying to…,” Levi sighed again, giving you a look. “Don’t panic at what I’m about to say, but that was probably your spirit trying to leave your body. It needs to adjust to being in this realm.”

You shuddered at the thought of earlier, and how it had felt like you had no control over your own body, and how it felt you were claustrophobic, like you were confined despite being in open space. It had probably been your soul, feeling trapped in a body that was trapped in a strange place. You’d never given much thought to souls or anything like that, but you maybe believed in the concept a little, and the idea of yours trying to abandon your physical body was terrifying. Still, it was interesting to think of how it would react to your situation. It was a little funny to think that souls weren't very into the idea of realm-hopping.

Levi got up from his chair and moved over to the alcove, rummaging around until he came back with a mug filled with dark liquid. The way it swirled in the mug hardly made it look like liquid, though; it looked like air. It also reminded you of Levi’s eyes.

“This is smokeroot tea. I put little charms in there as well for your protection. It should be enough to make the soul adapt,” he said. You took the mug from him and peered inside, taking a whiff of the tea. It smelled good, definitely kind of smokey, but a little earthy, too.

“An Eldian helping a human,” you murmured, but held the mug solidly in your hands. You had to keep trusting Levi, even if this was all true and he was an Eldian. He hadn’t done anything to harm you yet, and had done nothing but help, so you took a sip of the tea. You didn’t know what to expect, yet it still surprised you to enjoy the taste. It was nice to have something to wash the chips down with.

“Thanks,” you whispered to Levi, gazing at him through your lashes.

He got a little stiff and awkward then, taking an involuntary step back.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his gaze turning back to the alcove. “I also have some dried rabbit meat. Let me give you some of that.”

That made you a little queasy.

“I’ve never…I’ve never had rabbit before,” you said, trying to be polite. “Will the tea be enough to keep my soul tethered to my body or whatever?”

“You should eat it just to be safe,” Levi said, handing you what looked like a strip of beef jerky. You took it to examine it and swallowed thickly, mentally preparing yourself for what was probably going to be an unpleasant taste, but you ate it so fast and downed it with tea and chips that you hardly noticed the taste at all.

It was then that you held the bag of chips up to Levi, giving him a hesitant smile.

“Want to try these? Do you have potato chips here? These are just sea salt ones, but they’re classic,” you rambled.

“No, but thank you. I’m just going to work at my desk for a bit while I give you some time to…process,” Levi said. Oh, well. More for you.

You finished off the tea with your chips, feeling much better by the time both were fully in your stomach. Neither of you really said a word to each other, though Levi also made himself some tea, which helped ease some anxieties you felt guilty about having. Though the quiet was nice and helped lull you into a sense of safety while your mind whirled with all you’d been through, you still had so many questions.

“How did we get here?” you asked quietly, careful not to disturb the peace too much. “I don’t understand. I know you’re not sure how I got here, but how did we move through that mirror thing?”

Levi, who had been sitting at his desk, looked at you from over his shoulder wearing that same guarded look.

“That was what we call a verse mirror. Do you still have telephones in your realm? You can think of it like a phone call, where you are able to call another place, but this is a physical manifestation of that. The thing is, calling through a verse is a little more complicated. It takes a lot of skill. You have to make sure you’re completely connected to the mirror and where you’re going. Otherwise, you could risk ending up somewhere else.”

You nodded, contemplating this new information. You remembered then, how transporting through the mirror had felt so much like what you’d felt before crossing into Eldia.

“What I felt during those moments as we passed through it…that’s what it felt like right before I got here,” you confided, voice barely above a whisper. You were staring at the empty mug in your hands, peering deep inside as if there was something helpful in there. “I was at a gas station though. There wasn’t a verse mirror anywhere in sight, I swear it.” Levi was silent as he took in what you said.

“There isn’t much magic left in your world, that’s true. Any magic there was brought over by us, and we haven’t crossed into your territory in a very, very long time,” he murmured. Then, his gaze was very much fixed on you, smoky eyes staring right into you. “One thing has been puzzling me about that trip through the verse mirror, now that you mention it. You had no problems going through it.”

“So what?” you asked, frowning. “Was I supposed to be all out of breath like you were?”

“Honestly, yes, at the very least you should have been feeling winded and out of sorts, especially with your very spirit feeling so disoriented. I was expecting you to faint, or worse,” he explained. “It can be taxing even on the most experienced Scout, but it didn’t seem to affect you at all.”

“Scout?” you repeated.

Levi stiffened, then gave you one of his looks that told you he was getting irritated.

“I could bore you with several hours’ worth of Eldian politics, but I’m thinking that would be a waste of both our times,” he quipped. You knew his sass was just to change the topic, and part of you wanted to press the subject just to get on his nerves a little bit, but you decided to let it go.

You sighed deeply and looked around, your mind whirling once again. This was certainly a different place, a different realm, somewhere that seemed out of time, but it also didn’t feel entirely too strange to you, which was the weird part. You were expecting the mental breakdown to come at any minute now, and yet you were lounging around Levi’s little hiding place and doing a damn good job of keeping it together. A far away part of your brain was worrying about the movers and your new place and the grief of your life that was in some unreachable place in space right now, but your rational brain was also very aware of the fact that those worries were at the bottom of the list for the foreseeable future.

You should have been worrying about some big things, actually. Not just the fact that you were in some entirely new realm, but also that it was the Eldian realm. This was the most dangerous place for humans to be.

You were racking your brain, trying to remember the bits and pieces of Eldian myth that most of the human world had grown up with.

In most legends, Eldians were once humans themselves, and magic was rampant in the human world. Humans mostly used it for healing purposes or celebrating, but eventually witchcraft was born and it began being used for more sinister purposes, and more and more people dedicated their lives to hoarding magic, rather than letting it be a free thing to share. Eventually, Ymir, the Eldian founder, was born and became the most prolific witch of all. She made a deal with the devil, who created a realm for her – this realm – to funnel all the magic of the human world into it for her sole use. She became the first Titan, an enormous humanoid monster that ate any human who dared attempt to slip into the Eldian realm, and then eventually sought out and resurrected 9 of the most cunning demons from the netherworld to bestow the Titan gift onto, in order to help her grow her realm. All 9 of them were demons that feasted on human flesh, and so Ymir crossed over to the human realm with those 9 demons to dominate humanity and use them like cattle. But, humanity had been able to put up enough of a fight to not only hold their ground, but even capture one of those Titans, thanks to a hero in the myths named Helos. Stories differed around the end of this fight, but in every story, Ymir and those 8 remaining Titans crossed back into Eldia. The most popular myth was that the humans captured the most powerful Titan, one that held the power to control passage between realms, with some even saying it was the actual devil himself, and it had forced Ymir to return to Eldia and use her last breath to close all entries but one into Eldia, which is heavily warded.

Most of the myths surrounding the realm of Eldia were tales of morality and cautionary tales, like many legends and folklore. You, like most others, learned these stories as children from adults who wanted you to stop being a brat or wander off, lest you find yourself in Eldia and get eaten by a Titan. You remember studying them again as a young adult, dissecting the stories and ultimately coming to the conclusion that they were also religious propaganda, a way to stop people from dabbling in witchcraft or other “dark” practices.

You hadn’t thought about Eldia in years. And now, you were literally here, a sheep among wolves, so to speak. And yet, you remembered the way the hordes of Eldians looked at you today. It intimidated you, yes, even scared you, but you didn’t feel a real threat to your life. Everyone had been so startled, so confused, but from what you recalled, nobody had wanted to take a bite out of you. And you hadn’t seen any actual Titans, no huge beasts as tall as skyscrapers with jagged grins and fiery bodies.

“What are you thinking about?”

Levi’s voice made you nearly jump out of your skin, and you swore as the mug you’d been holding clattered to the floor. Thankfully, though, it didn’t break.

You bent down to pick it up, but Levi was already there and doing it. You didn’t miss the dirty look he shot you before he put the mug away.

“You scared me,” you muttered.

“So, you can ask a million questions, but I can’t?” Levi asked.

You rolled your eyes. Then, as you were about to answer, you felt your face heat up.

“I was trying to remember everything I’ve learned about Eldia,” you admitted.

“Trying to figure out how fucked you are?” Levi asked, his voice flat. It almost made you laugh, but you managed to stifle it to a short snort.

“Something like that.”

“You’ll have to tell me what you’ve been taught. I’ve always been curious as to what humans think they know nowadays, after so much time has passed,” he said quietly. At that, you got curious.

“Have you ever been to the human realm?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

“Yes. I never interacted with humans in depth, though, and most of my visits were a very long time ago. My last one, however, was recent enough that I know humans are making great technological advancements, even without magic. The telephone was a personal favorite of mine. I liked the dial,” he mused.

You, however, were in awe. Your eyebrows shot up at his words. First, you were honestly a little surprised he would divulge any information about himself. He was so cagey with you. But also, to think he was this old, seeing the invention of the telephone...it was almost impossible to wrap your head around it. It was starting to make sense. Sometimes he paused when he was speaking, as if trying to use the correct “lingo” with you, though he wasn’t quite with the times on that front. And if it had been that long ago that he'd seen what the human realm was up to, did he still think the first renditions of the telephone were humanity's greatest technological achievements?

“Do you wanna see what phones look like now?” you asked him.

Without waiting for an answer, you dug through your backpack to fish out your phone, standing up so you could go to the alcove and show him.

Though he was clearly trying to look unfazed, you could see something flash in his eyes as he took the phone from your hand.

“We call them cell phones now. Or just phones,” you said, letting your phone come to life so he could see your home screen. “With this little thing, we have access to the entire world. Uh, human world. You can have everything at your fingertips, basically. It’s not just for phone calls anymore. It can be kind of overwhelming sometimes, now that I think of it.”

You unlocked your phone so you could prattle on about apps and the internet and your limited knowledge on how it all worked, but Levi stopped you.

“How are you making everything…come to life? You’re just pressing your finger on these strange symbols,” he said, slowly, trying to find the words.

“It’s just…the way technology works now. The screen can sense that I'm touching a particular area and gets me to where I want to go. Something science-y,” you answered, a little embarrassed you couldn’t give a more detailed explanation.

Levi seemed invested, however, and that made you happy. It also eased your mind a little bit; your other life was real, and waiting for you, and this would all be in the past one day.

"I had no idea you'd all come such a long way," he mumbled.

You let him touch the screen and direct him onto certain apps, and felt a little embarrassed when he looked at your social media. He seemed surprised to see photos of you there. Pictures of you with friends, traveling photos, and the occasional selfie. He spent a second longer on your selfies, which made you feel a little nervous, but you were just happy to see him so curious.

"Is photography more accessible?" he asked.

You gave a sly grin and took your phone back, showing him your camera. You made sure you had it on your front facing camera and angled the screen to capture mostly Levi's face, snapping the picture before he could react. His eyes grew wider when you showed him the photo, immediately available to view, but his wide gaze was replaced by a narrow glare.

"Don't do that again," he warned.

You rolled your eyes and put your phone away, turning it off to conserve some battery. Not that it had any signal here, but you would probably need it soon, when you were back on the other side.

You looked at Levi, who was now seated across from you again, not sure how to word what you needed to ask.

“So…what’s the plan to get me home?” you asked. Well, that would have to do.

Levi didn’t seem bothered, though. He was lost in his thoughts, his brows knit together to form a very concentrated look on his face, and you watched him curiously.

“First, we need to figure out how you got through. Once I know that, we can start working on getting you to cross realms,” he said.

“Fair enough,” you sighed. “How do you propose we figure that out?”

“I know someone that may be able to help with that,” he said vaguely, his eyes sliding to you. “But that’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Maybe you should rest.”

As soon as he said that, it was like your brain finally registered how tired you were. So much stimulation and change, on top of an already stressful day.

You yawned involuntarily, despite your best efforts not to, and then looked at Levi sheepishly.

“I guess some sleep wouldn’t hurt,” you admitted.

“I don’t really have a bed here,” Levi said, and if you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn his eyes held a little bit of sheepishness as well. “I don’t want you to tire yourself out getting to a place that does have one –”

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, already curling up in your chair.

“You’ll come to find out that I can sleep just about anywhere,” you told him. You were already drifting off. Levi didn’t say anything, but he did procure the softest blanket you’ve ever felt to toss over you.

Would he come to find out? If you were leaving tomorrow, then he wouldn’t come to find out a damn thing about you. Maybe you were dreaming it, but you could have sworn your heart sank a little at the thought.

---

You had no idea how long you’d slept, but it must have been a while. There weren’t any windows in the room you were in, but when Levi noticed you were awake, he immediately got some tea started and then put some bread and butter in front of you and curtly announced it as, "Breakfast."

“How did you sleep?” he asked, taking a sip of his tea. It was the same as yesterday, smokeroot, and you happily sipped from your mug.

“I slept like the dead,” you said. “Neck is a little sore, but that’s fine.”

“Good. Then you’re well-rested enough for all we have to do today,” Levi said flatly.

You made a face behind your mug and then took another sip of tea, mulling over everything. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, but as your mind spun round and round, you finally had to just blurt out some thoughts.

“I keep waiting for my brain to just…I don’t know. Break from all this,” you admitted quietly. “I keep waiting for a freakout. I keep expecting to curl up in a ball because I can’t process what’s happening. At this point, I’m more freaked out about having to wait on the freakout, than the actual freakout.”

“Well, that tea was going to help calm you down on top of helping your body keep your soul. Now that you’re acclimating, that’s probably a big part of why you aren’t feeling too bad.”

“No, you don’t understand,” you began, “I’m…I’m not used to adventuring. I’m used to keeping myself safe. I’m kind of in disbelief that I’m able to deal with this at all.”

“You seem to be handling this just fine,” Levi said. “I don’t see how that’s a problem. Why are you expecting all of that?”

Your face heated up and you looked down at your half-empty plate, ripping off a piece of bread just to rip that little piece into even tinier pieces.

“Because I’m not exactly the bravest person ever,” you said. “I’ve always been more of a scaredy-cat. I scare easy and I’m always anxious about one thing or another, and I hate sudden changes, and I hate not knowing. I’ve always been like that. You’re the only reason I haven’t been eaten alive here, and that should really scare me, and I should be so terrified right now, but I’m not. I think it’s all going to come crashing down at the worst moment.”

Levi was quiet. You dared to glance up at him and were surprised to see that he was staring right at you.

“The human mind is very durable. Humanity itself is very durable, if I remember correctly,” he said. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short. I think you would be surprised at what you’re capable of.”

It was strange, receiving such a sincere compliment like that. No one back home would have ever come close to saying you were durable.

But now that you’d gotten it out of your system, you felt lighter, and you wanted to change the subject. Your curiosity was getting the better of you again when it came to Levi.

“When’s the last time you visited the human world? It sounds like it’s been a while, if the last thing you saw be invented was the telephone,” you said. Then, in a quiet voice, you asked, “Do Eldians go into our realm often?”

It was hard trying to decipher Levi’s facial expressions. He was so good at hiding behind a calm mask. It was like trying to see past a brick wall. But you could see emotions flickering behind his eyes once in a while.

“That was the last time I was there, that’s true. It’s been a long time in human years. And I’ll never go back again, not for anything,” he said, and the way he said it made you not press for more. “The last time I went was the last time most Eldians went. I haven’t heard of a single one of us returning to that place since then. If it’s happened, I know nothing about it.”

So, he wasn’t fond of the human world. Which was funny, considering that he had just hyped up humanity only minutes ago.

After another silence, this one a little more tense, it was actually Levi that spoke first.

“No one is going to eat you,” he said, taking your empty plate from you when you were finished.

You blinked in surprise, not expecting that.

“Excuse me?”

“There’s a lot of misinformation – let’s just call it misinformation. About Eldia,” he said. He gestured towards his own empty plate. “I’m sure you noticed that I’m not munching on human bones.”

“Variety diet,” you said blandly, hoping the joke would land, but Levi’s glare told you it didn’t. “I’m only kidding. Kind of.”

Levi sighed, signaling he was done with the conversation, and you felt like you’d failed somehow.

“Tell me why every story mentions the fact that you eat people, then? I’m not following,” you told him, folding your arms over your chest.

“Because that’s what you were told to believe,” Levi snapped. “We don’t…do that. A lot of what you think you know is actually false. You don’t know anything at all.”

That struck a nerve in you.

“It’s not like you’re ever keen to answer any of my questions,” you quipped back.

The two of you were glaring at each other now. Levi’s jaw was set and your entire body was rigid.

“I’ve known you less than a day, with you being asleep some of that time, and you’re already the most aggravating person I’ve ever met,” Levi told you.

You gave him an exaggerated smile, your eyes still flashing with your glare.

“That pleases me,” you said through your smile, before rolling your eyes and standing up.

“So much for being a scaredy-cat. You’re more like a feral cat,” Levi muttered under his breath, but fully with the intention that you’d hear him.

You ignored him and straightened out your clothes, then put a hand in your hair, frowning to yourself; you probably looked like a total mess.

After doing what you could without even a mirror to guide you, you turned back to Levi, arms crossed again, trying to keep your face neutral like he often did.

“When are we leaving to find your little friend?” you asked.

“Right now,” he said. “Grab your things and don’t forget anything. We won’t come back.”

The quickness startled you, but you did as he said and then followed him back into that hallway inside the mountain, until it eventually opened to the valley outside again. The sunlight hit you hard and you squinted, holding a hand over your eyes to shield them until they adjusted.

The valley was just as beautiful in the day as it was at night. The plush green grass and sapphire sky looked magical. Wildflowers bloomed in pockets here and there, and the rocky path along the mountain even held some pretty weeds in the cracks. The river was so clear that you could see fish darting around, and the rocks at the bottom glittered and looked like they all held vibrant colors.

How could such a dangerous land be so beautiful?

You held the straps of your backpack as you walked alongside Levi, your neck craning this way and that while you took in the sights. The only sounds were the rush of the water and the songs of birds and your footsteps that moved the loose stones and pebbles in your path. Levi didn’t say a word and neither did you.

There was nothing to see for miles but the beauty of the valley, but you knew better by now. There was magic here, and it didn’t matter if you were in the middle of nowhere. You could be taken to entirely new places with the help of Levi.

Levi.

You slightly tilted your head to peek at him from your peripheral vision, taking in the sight of him. He was looking straight ahead, posture straight and confident as he walked. His hair was still night-black even in the daytime, and you marveled at his strong profile. His nose was straight, and his jaw was strong and defined.

“Don’t stare at me like that,” he spoke up, only glancing at you briefly. His eyes glinted silver in the sunlight.

You felt your entire face grow hot and looked away, heart racing. Why was it racing? How did he know what you were doing?

---------

You walked for hours, but it didn’t feel so tiring, not when there was so much to see. You loved how the sun felt on your skin, you loved the gentle breeze that ruffled your hair, you loved how sweet the air smelled. It was nice to get away from the ugliness back home.

It hadn’t been totally silent the whole way. Eventually, you just had to strike up conversations with the ever-reluctant Levi.

You asked him little things occasionally, things that wouldn’t piss him off, but you mostly commented on your surroundings and revealed the occasional fact about yourself.

“I fell into a river once, when I was a kid. I didn’t know how to swim back then, and the river currents were really strong, so I was swept away pretty fast. But I got lucky and the current pushed me against this huge boulder on the edge of the river, and I was able to pull myself out. My parents put me in swimming lessons after that,” you rambled, your eyes on the river at your side. It was narrow, some would have probably even called it more of a stream than a river, and the water seemed to idly bubble along. You knew better, though; underneath the surface was a whole different story.

Levi seemed a little interested in this particular story of yours, though you’d told plenty today. He gave a look you couldn’t decipher, then looked away.

“I saved a human child once, from drowning in a river,” he revealed quietly, his voice level.

You looked at him in awe, surprised at this confession of his.

“That was very kind of you,” you told him, suppressing a smile.

Levi barely reacted, but his face remained calm.

You took it as permission to keep rambling.

---------

The trail had eventually led you out of the valley and into a great expanse of land, still as beautiful but leaving the mountains behind.

There were fields of crops, you noticed, and actual livestock.

And then, up ahead, by the time the sun was signaling late afternoon, you could see what you were sure was a village.

At first, it was exciting. Then, that pit of worry sank like a stone in your stomach.

Eldians. Surely there would be Eldians there.

You remembered how it had been running into them the first time. Levi had to get you out of there. Now he was leading you towards more of them.

You hadn’t noticed you’d slowed down until Levi cleared his throat.

“Don’t start going all chicken-shit on me now, Embla,” he said, his face unreadable. “What’s gotten into you?”

“They’ll know I’m human, won’t they?” you asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “What are they gonna do? Is it gonna be like last time?”

Levi softened imperceptibly and stopped walking, standing a few feet away from you.

“They won’t hurt you,” he said. “It’ll be just before dusk by the time we get to the outskirts of the village, so the sun will still be out. They won’t come out until dark.”

That didn’t make you feel any better. You thought back to yesterday, how it had been so quiet and lifeless during the day. It hadn’t been until night descended that you saw any traces of life.

“What’s up with that?” you asked, stepping closer to Levi. “Why can’t they come out during the day? Are you like vampires or something?”

Levi scoffed, his glare back full force.

“We can obviously come out during the day, shit-for-brains. I’ve been walking with you all day, haven’t I? There’s a ceremony of sorts being carried out by Eldians. Last night was the first night of it, and tomorrow night will be the last night,” he explained.

“Why aren’t you participating in the ceremony?” you asked, already fired up with questions.

You could see that he didn’t want to answer, but you pressed on this time, using it as a distraction for your anxiety.

“C’mon, Levi! I’m trying to learn,” you said, your tone pleading.

Levi’s shoulders became less tense as you began to walk with him again, although, even as you looked at him with wide, curious eyes, he didn’t look at you.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “If it’ll get you to shut up and walk.”

When he finally turned his head to look at you, you gave him a smile, your first genuine one since getting here. He blinked a couple of times, his lips parted, but in a flash, he was composed again.

“It’s the Three Nights of the Daughters, but we usually just call it the Three Nights. It’s a yearly event where we honor Maria, Rose, and Sina.”

“Who are they?”

This time, it was Levi who stopped walking, an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he asked.

“Maria, Rose, and Sina…who are they?” you asked again, a little more hesitant this time.

“You really don’t know?” Levi asked, and you shook your head, feeling your face heat up yet again.

Those names didn’t sound familiar at all, and yet Levi was acting as though you were missing some important piece of information.

“No. Should I?”

“They’re Ymir’s daughters, her direct descendants. When she died, they – how could you not know all of this?” Levi’s face was incredulous, the most animated you’d ever seen him.

“She never had…none of the stories…”

Try as you might, you couldn’t find the words. Any time you had a thought, it trailed off.

Ymir had a family? None of the stories you’d ever come across even slightly hinted at that. Maybe it was human error. After all, these stories were so old, and they weren’t exactly all yours to tell. People considered them myth these days, not as historical events. Eldia had only been a fairytale to you until yesterday. But something nagged at you. This absence of knowledge felt intentional, like you weren’t supposed to know about it.

You looked at Levi, feeling unnerved for some reason.

“The last time you were in my world, did the humans know about her daughters?” you asked.

Levi seemed taken aback by the question, but his face was slowly melting back into neutrality.

“I never asked about the full extent of how the myths were told, but knew that things were...altered. I just never knew how much. I was never exactly in direct contact with you people,” he said. It was such a vague answer, but you let it go for now, tucking the little information he gave you for later.

“Tell me more about the Three Nights, then. Why do you celebrate her daughters? And why at night?” you asked, attention fully on Levi.

“Because of what they had to go through when their mother died. They each had to stay up all night with Ymir’s remains. They had to do unspeakable things in order to inherit the Power of the Titan,” he said casually, eyes fixed ahead. “But they did it for us, to save us. They used the Power of the Titan to attempt to close all pathways between this world and yours.”

You blinked in surprise. Her daughters saved Eldians, from what? From humans? That’s what it sounded like. Levi was telling the story like Eldians had needed to be protected from humans, which meant removing access between realms. Or, the way he’d put it, attempted to remove. Clearly, there was still access.

At first, you felt an automatic sense of defensive come alive within you. How dare he, when the stories pointed to countless humans getting eaten or tortured by Titans! People kept these myths alive to remind humanity of what to fear.

But again, that feeling of being unnerved set in. Something about Levi’s version rang true, though you didn’t know why you should trust him, why you were trusting him, despite everything you’d been taught. Even if you’d originally believed it all to be nonsense, these stories were now the only thing you could reference to survive in this different place. And here was Levi, tearing all your knowledge to shreds and claiming it to be false. Maybe not directly, but it was obvious he was trying to steer you in another direction.

“So now you all celebrate them every year by staying up all night outside?” you prodded.

“You’ve got it a little backwards. Do you remember yesterday, when everyone was coming back into town from the forest after sundown? That’s because people are resting in temples together. None of our temples are within towns. And before you ask why,” Levi said, eyeing you, “it’s because the temples are meant to be tied to the earth somehow, as a separate haven from whatever nearest town or village there is. It’s a time to gather as a community and people like coming together to celebrate and rest under one roof. During the day, people all come together in the temple to start preparing their feasts and offerings to the altars that are built for each daughter before they sleep. At night, families go back home and fast until morning.”

You mulled over all this new information and this unique celebration. Instead of looking at Levi, your gaze turned towards the village. You were closer now, and the sun was lower in the sky, casting long shadows and golden light. It was strange, knowing it was completely empty.

“Seems like it would be cramped, all holed up in a temple together,” you said aloud, mostly talking to yourself. “That temple we were in, Norchek Temple, was nearly decrepit, and so small. It wouldn’t have fit an entire village inside.”

“The temples I’m talking about are Temples of the Titans,” Levi explained. “They’re dedicated to Ymir and her direct descendants, and they’re big enough to hold many people. However, in some places where the population is bigger, they’ll assign different days for different groups to rest, usually going by neighborhood. Temples like Norchek Temple are different.”

“How is Norchek Temple different?” you asked.

Levi sighed, then stopped walking. You stumbled at the quick change, but then turned to face him fully, a questioning look in your eyes.

“Embla.”

That’s all he said for a few moments, just that odd nickname for you. But you knew he wanted to say more, so you kept quiet. When he didn’t say anything else, even though there was clearly a storm brewing in his eyes, you spoke up.

“Levi, just tell me what you wanna tell me,” you whispered, a hand outstretched to reach out to him. However, he stepped back, which made your heart sting, and his eyes hardened.

“Humans have told their own version of our history for a very long time,” he said. “I’ve never involved myself much with humans, and for good reason. There's no point in explaining all of this to you. It’s pointless trying to make you see.”

“See what?!” you pressed, hands balling into fists.

“The truth,” Levi said, not giving in to your anger.

His answer fizzled out your anger, though, and your outstretched arm fell limp to your side. So, he really was trying to convince you that you’d been lied to all your life. That all humans had been lied to.

Your gaze slipped from his and you focused on the fields and lines of trees instead, deep and rich sunlight saturating their colors. The sun was going to set soon, and the village wasn’t much farther. Now, though, you weren’t so afraid of who you might run into.

Levi seemed to harbor some resentment towards humans. He was so hesitant to tell you anything at all about his world, and you wondered why. Wouldn’t he want to tell you the truth of Eldia, so that you could go back to your world and spread that truth? Did he think that it wouldn’t matter, because you wouldn’t be staying here long enough to give you enough of the truth to pass along?

Besides all of that, you were battling your own mind. You wanted the truth, but you had to admit that you were also scared of it. You were so sick of being scared all the time. You’d always thought you were just especially mindful of self-preservation, but now you were seeing it for what it really was: cowardice. This was a chance to learn something life-changing, and yet you were still shying away from it. Part of you wanted to keep the stories you’d been told and hold them in high regard. You wanted to keep believing that those stories were the most accurate, and not whatever Levi could tell you. Everything you thought you knew was crumbling in on itself, and you felt powerless and stupid and bared to the world in a way that made you uncomfortable. It made you feel like a blank slate.

“Let’s just keep going,” you mumbled, hating yourself. Such a coward, such a scaredy cat. You could have pressed Levi more, hounded him for answers, for the truth, but you didn’t.

You fell into step together and entered the outskirts of the village, where you learned the name of the village by looking at some signs.

“Ragako,” you breathed out, admiring the structures of the buildings and houses.

It was a small village and it seemed so open, with wide roads and plenty of space between buildings. Nothing at all like the town you’d been in before.

“What was the name of the other town?” you asked Levi out of curiosity. You never did find that out.

“Shiganshina,” he answered curtly.

You frowned at him, not appreciating the tone, but decided to steer the conversation a different way.

“We’ve been walking all day,” you complained, rubbing your grumbling stomach.

You’d aired this grievance earlier, around noon, when the beginning pangs of hunger struck you. Levi had merely grunted and only let you stop long enough to peruse through your backpack for a snack, but then told you to keep it moving and walk while you ate. The snack was barely enough to sustain you, and now your hunger was back with a vengeance, coupled with thirst.

“Stop being a crybaby. It’s not gonna kill you to wait a few more minutes until we get to Hange’s house,” Levi said, his grey eyes peeking at you from his peripheral vision.

“Hange,” you repeated, tasting the name in your mouth. “Finally, you tell me who we’re seeing.”

“You never actually asked,” Levi reminded you, and you felt your face grow a little hot. Technically, he was right. He doubled down by adding, “You spend all your time asking millions of questions, but never the right ones.”

You felt there was some sort of double entendre in what he’d said but you didn’t want to press him anymore.

Sure enough, as golden dusk cooled into pale twilight, you were standing in front of someone’s home. From far away, you could hear people emerging from the forest, their distant chatter sounding like coils of wind.

You were about to question whether Hange was even home, but Levi pounded roughly on the door and startled you into silence. Surprisingly, the door swung open to reveal someone, presumably Hange, with messy dark hair and glasses that were askew on their face.

“Levi?” they asked incredulously, sleepy eyes suddenly alert. Then, their gaze turned to you, their jaw immediately dropping. “Is this…?”

“A human? Yeah. Let us in before anyone else sees her.”

read part 3 here

[nightspires]

hi jen! it's your secret sleuth! i hope you're staying warm and cozy this holiday season and happy belated birthday! do you have any holiday songs that you really love, or otherwise: what kind of earworms have been on replay for you lately? what are a few favorite nace moments or episodes that you love to revisit! HAPPY SLEUTHING!

omg, hello sleuthy!!! i am happy to hear from you!

i am partial to a slightly gloomy, non-traditional christmas song (see: christmas lights by coldplay, river by joni mitchell, 'tis the damn season by miss swift). for the more jolly side of things, i love christmas time (don't let the bells end) by the darkness or it's the most wonderful time of the year by andy williams.

for non-christmas music, i have been listening to a lot of sabrina carpenter (bed chem and taste are faves) and chappell roan!

my favourite nace moments... gosh, there are so many! i loved in s1 when he "drank poison" for her (plus the "i knew nancy, i knew she was right" moment after). also loved him keeping the secret that ryan was her dad when she found out, bc she wasn't ready for everyone else to know. i;m a sucker for all the moments where he showed up for her in the way she needed and didn't push her to share things before she was ready (see: "i know lately you have been pummeled by life" conversation). i go insane for all the longing moments in s3 (esp the look through the car window in 303 and when he asks her what her dream was about in 304). also feel feral about the exchange "i'm not lacking anymore" "you never were" from the s3 finale. and the entirety of 403 sends me into another dimension of joy and angst.

i always think about s4 that i would have liked *ace* to have been nancy's companion when they time travelled back to the 1970s (in 406), bc it would have been more fun and also angsty seeing them have to work together after the drama of 403. plus, i would have loved the black door cover up to have actually been about them and their curse rather than a random accident. just generally i want nace to be together always and for everything to always be about them, even when they are sad / hurt / pining for one another lmao.

i hope this helps, sleuthy!!! hope you are having a good day!! xooxox

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!

This will probably won't make it to answered asks this Purim but maybe next Purim:

I've seen here Jew Omens fics that concern Hannukah (and one that pretty much covers all the Jewish calendar) but is there out there a fic focused on Purim?

This holiday has everything ineffable: food, wine, costumes, being kind to each other, drama, almost getting killed!

I know it's a generally lesser known holiday so it's understandable if you don't find anything.

Thank you for this wonderful blog, and Happy Purim/regular day if you don't celebrate!

Hello my dear and a very belated Happy Purim!

I think that the amazing borealowl has what you're looking for, or as close to as I've been able to find. If you haven't read it yet, it's a lovely series.

Four Cups of Wine by borealowl [rated G, 56K words]

Crowley is terrified of losing Aziraphale again, but unable to confess his feelings. He follows Aziraphale on an errand to America, where they end up invited to a seder and spend the next year being invited to other holidays and gatherings on both sides of the Atlantic. Is Crowley's pining painfully obvious to everyone but Aziraphale? (Yes.) Are the rabbi and her wife going to try and get them together? (Yes.) How many Jewish holidays will these two ineffable idiots be invited to before they finally admit their feelings to each other? (Read it and see!)

(And because someone requested it, there is now a link to brief explanatory notes about the various Jewish terms at the beginning of each chapter.)

-Mod AB

[asmodeus-fallen-principality]

*Rings the doorbell, carrying mulled wine in a thermos with cinnamon-brown sugar boba in it*

*Sticks mouth in mail slot to call* Hi Asmodeus, belated happy holidays! Sorry I just ran off last time!

((sorry for taking forever!!))

*opens door*

Hello, my dear, merry Christmas. Come in out of the cold. Don't worry yourself, everyone's very busy this time of year.

Would you like a cookie? I've made melted snowmen this year. Some of them have marshmallow heads.

[seriouslysam8]

Sneak Peak?

Sorry! I forgot about the sneak peek yesterday due to the holiday. Happy belated Fourth to the Americans out there!

This is unedited because I haven’t done edits yet.

This is for all of you who said they missed our favorite Weasleys last chapter! I did too.

Chapter Thirty-One: Cepheus Black

​“Hey,” Harry greeted.

​Ron moved quickly upon hearing Harry’s voice, shoving one of his long arms in front of Ginny so she couldn’t make contact with Harry first. He pulled Harry into an embrace and Harry stared at Ginny over Ron’s shoulder. She rolled her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest.

​“It’s good to have you back, mate,” Ron said, thumping Harry on the back. “I was stuck with Ginny and her friends all bloody weekend.”

​Ginny scoffed. “Like you and Gemma didn’t spend two bloody hours gossiping about Hannah and Neville being caught snogging in the Herbology classroom.”

​Ron pulled away from Harry, his shoulders shrugging. “I mean, look, Gemma knows everything. It’s sort of eerie. I’m learning so much about so many different people.”

​Ginny pushed Ron aside. “Can I say hello to my boyfriend now?”

​Ron’s face pulled as she pushed past him. She rose up onto her tiptoes, slinging her arms on his shoulders. Harry had no choice but to bend down to press his lips against hers, not that he had any objections whatsoever. A spark ignited in his chest, his palms pressing against her hips. Ron groaned but Harry ignored him.

​When they finally parted, which could have been moments or minutes or even hours, Harry couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face.

​“I missed you,” she whispered.

​Ron made a gagging noise.

​“I missed you too,” he admitted as he pulled her close to his side.

​She snuggled into his chest, fitting perfectly against him like she was made to live permanently pressed into him. Harry’s fingers danced long her arm, and he swore he felt her shiver.

[justoneofthoseghosts]

Hello! Here's some bonus content for Once Upon a December. This was originally going to be part of the last chapter but I was hitting a wall. Please enjoy the belated Christmas treat! ☺️🎄

Three years later

“What about this one?”

Matt turns towards the tree Sylvie was pointing to.  It was around six feet tall.  He tilts his head to the side, examining it.

“It could work,” he tells his wife.

“Do you think we can get it into the living room?”  Sylvie asks.

He laughs.  Last year, they agreed on a much larger tree except that when they got back to their house, they found that they couldn’t get it past the foyer.  They ended up having to saw off some of the branches and a bit of the base.

“I think so.  If not, we’ll bust out the circular saw again,” he mentions jokingly.

She rolls her eyes at him before shaking her head.

Buying a tree had been one of their many Christmas traditions since two years ago.  Decorating it was always fun, Matt had to admit.  Last year, Violet, Griffin and Ben helped out, turning their tree into a very interesting one to say the least.

It had character was what Sylvie said after the kids were done.

They do end up buying the handsome Douglas fir tree.  Matt thanks the guy as he helps load it onto the truck, cranking up the heat as they got int the cab of the truck.

When they get home, they start to unearth the bins of Christmas decorations.  Sylvie grins as she finds the first set of ornaments she bought Matt at the Christmas market, showing them to him.

“Maybe we can go back next week and see if they have more of these.  They’ll look great on the tree,” she tells him, holding up a wooden snowflake.

He grins at her.  Over the years, Sylvie’s love for Christmas never faded and she had somehow managed to influence Matt.  They took turns planning wonderful Christmas activities for each other - two years ago, on their first anniversary, Matt surprised her with a weekend ski trip to a resort in Wisconsin.  Sylvie got him little presents corresponding to the twelve days of Christmas in return. There were weird presents like a can of pears but Matt loved them all the same. He loved the idea so much that when he proposed last year, he took a page from her book, this time giving her gifts based on the song 'Santa Baby'. He had to admit, he looked forward to Christmas because of her and her unending enthusiasm.

Even as she jams a Santa hat on top of his head to match the pair of reindeer ears she just put on, gazing at him innocently.

“You want some hot chocolate?”  He asks.

She beams at him and his heart just soars.

It’s that God damn smile that gets him every single time.

“Of course I do,” she states, “your hot chocolate is the best in Chicago.”

She says it as if it’s a widely known fact but he’s happy nonetheless at her sweeping statement.  It’s a big compliment coming from Sylvie, who loved anything that had chocolate in it.

When he gets back from the kitchen, Sylvie’s made much work of organizing the bins, arranging them based on the contents - Christmas lights, Christmas balls, other ornaments.  There’s even a bin for Christmas stockings that Sylvie’s family had gotten them last year, one for the each of them.

He hands her a mug, which was also Christmas themed, of course.

“Thanks,” she says before taking a sip and sighing.

He grins, taking a sip from his own mug.

“Anything you need help with?”  Matt inquires, looking around the room.

“Can you hang the Christmas stockings please?”

There’s a twinkle in her eye, like she’s in on some secret he isn’t but he doesn’t question it nor does he question the fact that the stockings were usually hung last - right before they lit the fire and cuddled up on the couch watching one of Sylvie’s many favorite holiday movies.  He grabs the first stocking, hanging it on the hook over the fireplace before grabbing the other one and doing the same.  He’s about to close the bin but something red catches his eye.

He stares at it for what feels like ages because somehow his brain could not comprehend what he was seeing.

It’s a tiny sock, like those for babies.

But they didn’t have a baby yet.  They had been trying for a couple of months.

Did this mean what he thought it did?  He told her when she agreed to marry him that he was making all his dreams come true.  This one was like adding an annex to that dream, to the longstanding one he’s had since he could remember.

“You okay, hon?”  comes Sylvie’s sweet yet tentative voice, her hand on his shoulder.

He turns to face her, opening his mouth, waiting for words to form.

“I, uh, we -”

She patiently waits for him to get there, eyes bright, gnawing on her bottom lip.

“We’re having a baby?”  He finally manages to ask.

She nods slowly before confirming, “we’re having a baby.”

He launches himself at her, pulling her in for a fierce hug, spinning her around.  Her laughter is in his ear, musical almost.

“We’re having a baby,” he repeats in wonder.

“Merry Christmas, Matt.” she whispers, cupping his cheek tenderly.

He smiles back, “Merry Christmas, Sylvie.”

He sets her down, the two of them swaying, slow dancing in their living room while snow fell out side.

Matt holds Sylvie closer, still reeling from the news.

He glances outside, unable to keep himself from reminiscing about this cheerful paramedic who dropped by his firehouse.  He smiles at how far they’ve come.

To think, it all started one random day in December which turned out to be one to remember forever.

[monsterfloofs]

Hello, if you are taking requests, could you do one with a holiday gift exchange with Teddy (Thaddeus) and reader, please? Thank you! Happy Holiday and New Year to you, may all your days be gentle and bright!

Thaddeus (Male Vampire) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

A Holiday Edition:

(Hello there! Sorry it took me so long to get back to your request! I took a holiday break from writing to do some personal art things and spend time with the family. So this is a belated response, I also had to do some background lore/world work to figure out the best way to write this! —And uh, er, this got WAY too long!!! But uhhhhh also, Teddy is a favorite and I would live in Wroughtworth if I only could. So he gets paragraphs of story because he is a precious plum. Q-QQ ) Unedited for the most part, so there are probably mistakes abound! Sowwy in advance. u n u;; ) I also hope you had a lovely holiday and new years too! )

The dark streets and looming buildings were covered in thick blankets of snow, turning the usually dark and dreary structures into a cozy and picturesque winter holiday. It was almost like stepping into a black and white photograph in the day time, and at night the snow reflected a blue midnight color that pooled into the streets and plazas.

More snow was coming, you had heard, peering out the window to watch big fluffy flakes stick to high gothic windows. You pulled a knit blanket closer to you, staring outside into the sapphire twilight.

“Tell me about this. . . gift exchange again dear?”

“It’s something we do back home,” You admitted, careful to keep out the ties of religious holidays. After all. . . you thought it wouldn’t exactly be the best of ideas to bring them up, while religions in the past had called vampires, demons and evil spirits. Finding and devising ways to harm and deter them.

“Hm. . . I suppose that would give us something to do while we are trapped inside from all this snow.” Teddy makes a face, scrunching his nose as his eyebrows knit together. “But you did say it was an exchange, that also means that I must find you a gift as well.”

Your reflection gives an awkward smile, well. . . he didn’t really have to. But you knew Teddy, he would have insisted that he have to give you something in return if you had surprised him with a present. You look back at him, his fingers steepled together in thought as the candle lit made his eyes dance and glitter.

What was that look for?

“What are you planning?” You asked suspiciously, he holds his hands up and grins. “Moi? Why— nothing, nothing!” You squint at him before slowly sinking back down to sit properly on the couch.

You didn’t believe that for a second.

“And when did you want to have this little festivity hm?”

He sounded eager, which had you taken aback. “Oh. . . whenever I suppose you want to. . .”

“Splendid,” He responds with a sudden cheerfulness, starting to rise from his seat. “Then I shall see you again within an hour or so!”

“Ah—“ You began as you watched him grab his hat, scarf, and coat.

“Teddy— th- the storm? There’s a winter storm outside—“

Thaddeus pauses on the threshold from the living room to the stairs and the doors leading outside. He grins playfully.

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t you worry about me, I have weathered worse blizzards than this on my adventures.”

Your lips purse, “Alright. . .” taking a pause before murmuring slowly, “Please be safe,”

He tips his hat before he disappears around the corner, the door opening and closing with a heavy thud.

You sink deeper into the pillows and blankets. Well! Now you have about an hour or so to worry about what your companion was up to! You sigh and swing your legs off of the couch, your socks shuffling across the candle lit room to grab a lantern.

“Come on Pip,” A rustling sound comes from another blanket pile as a little skeletal beak pokes out from its cocoon.

“You want to come wrap Teddy’s present with me?” A couple clicks from the beak in response before a shadow streams from the blanket and darts onto the floor. Pip appears on your shoulder, shaking their head back and forth as they snuggle into your neck. Brrrrrrrrr!

“It is chilly out here,” You agree as you step out into the hallway and start to climb the stairs. “We won’t be up here too long, I promise.”

The long climb to the top has you huffing softly, it was cold up in your studio, but it would have been colder still if the large black bricked buildings weren’t designed so intricately. You stop to catch your breath at the top, before entering the small room crammed with tools and art supplies.

Raising your lantern to give one final look over the painting on the easel. All those sketches of Teddy you made in your journal had paid off in the end. The portrait you had been working so hard to make over winter was finished. As finished as you had anticipated it being, a part of you felt that you could have done hours of work more if you really wanted to. This was to be your biggest gift although you had a few others that you had bought prior. You had hid the other presents just enough out of sight, but in places you knew where to look. Digging around in a drawer to pull out a couple of carefully wrapped parcels. A few of the books he loves so dearly, you had found and bought on the spot. . . And had gotten a number of strange looks as you handed over your coin. You stacked them in your arms before carefully picking up the painting.

You had. . . one other gift as well, though, this one wasn’t tangible like paintings or books. It was a confession, a true confession of love, the one you hadn’t been able to verbally express as your tongue had curled in knots. A part of you wondered if he already knew.

After he had seen the pictures you had drawn, there was a slight change to the air about him. He talked to you the same, but there was something funny, a little crease to the corners of his eyes. The way his hands would linger with yours for just a moment longer. Silent spaces with unsaid words. Or perhaps you had only begun to take more interest in the little things he did, now that you had been so close to letting your heart bleed onto your sleeve.

You tiptoed carefully back down the stairs, balancing books and painting as you walked. Pip peeped in your ear and you peek over the railing. “He said an hour Pip, surely he can’t be back already. Can you watch the door for me?”

With a snap of their beak Pip became a little blotchy shadow that fell upon the stair, darting down, down, down back to the doorway. It took you much longer to arrive at the bottom, and you cooed praises at the little robed bird sitting patiently in front of the door. Watching it with fierce determination.

You were able to wrap up your painting in a brown paper that crinkled invitingly under your fingers. You knelt on the floor, hunched over it as you folded the long leafy sides of paper over top of your handiwork and wrapped it with twine. You sat back with a triumphant huff, letting yourself rest for a spell before you reach for the large parcel and prop it against the coffee table.

And now you wait. . . Pip had rejoined you on the couch when you called to them, a little liquid shadow that shot up the side of the bed and back into the nest of blankets. You laughed at the little shadowy feet that kicked and flailed before disappearing.

By the time Thaddeus had returned you had stoked a fire in the hearth, sitting on top of the warming stone fireplace and listening to the pops of smoldering wood. The door opening had caused you to turn your head, dusting your hands off and hurrying to the entrance.

“Teddy— Oh!”

Thaddeus looked like he had only just escaped from being buried in a snow drift, his dark clothes lined with snow. You reach up to attempt to help him brush off his shoulders.

“A frigid night!” He beamed cheerfully, “How lucky I am to not feel the cold!”

“If you were out there any longer I think you would have resembled a snowman,” You teased, flecks of snow melting against your fingers and chilling them.

“Wouldn’t that be a marvelous idea? A snowman in front of my house. How about you and I go out tomorrow and make one?”

“People would have a fit!” You gawked and Thaddeus grinned, “They would, wouldn’t they? I bet Fairaway’s hair would turn white.” He chuckles at the mention of the head guard of the city and you looked slightly uneasy. “You probably shouldn’t provoke him. . .”

Thaddeus huffs, “Provoke. . . ? My dear that creature has an ill temper to begin with. I think the people around here are so old they’ve forgotten what fun is!”

You smile, taking his frigid hands into yours, leading him into the warm living room as he continues to complain.

“No more playing about snow for tonight at least,” Thaddeus amended as he sat back into his favorite chair by the fire. “I won’t make any promises about tomorrow however.” He winks at you and you laugh softly. “I don’t think I could stop you if I tried.”

Thaddeus raises inquisitive eyebrows, “Oh, I am sure you would be able to sway me into behaving,”

You blink at the comment, “Maybe what I have for you might sway you then!” Thaddeus chuckles, before peering over at the large package by the coffee table. “M-my goodness, what pray tell is that??”

You hand him the smaller packages, “Open these ones first! Save the big one for last!” Thaddeus blinks before giving you a dubious look. “I thought we were only exchanging one gift.”

You shrug with a smile, “I go overboard with gift giving, it’s a bad habit of mine.”

Thaddeus hums mischievously, reaching into his breast pocket. “You and I had the same mind I see. Though mine are a lot smaller presents I’m afraid.” He produces a few small wrapped pieces, pressing them into your palm.

You look at the tiny wrapped treasures and swallow. “. . . You go first.”

Thaddeus wears a bemused smile as he turns the parcels over in his hands. “Well. . . by first inspection they feel like books—“

“Open them!” You chirrup with a laugh, “You won’t find out unless you open them!”

Thaddeus pulls a cheeky grin, as he gently shakes them beside one of his tapered ears. Then laughs as he watches you pull a face.

“Alright, I’ve had my fun!” He giggles faintly, before beginning to open the paper. His eyes widening as he quirks a lopsided smile. “Ah! Did you really?”

He continues to pull back the binding pressing a hand to his mouth, “And these were the ones I was missing too! Ah! How thoughtful of you!” He thumbs over the binding and gives you a grin. “You didn’t read them, perchance?”

You shake your head and wave your arms. “Nuh uh!! I got them used! I definitely was not reading your pervy books!” Thaddeus gives a goofy smile, and you sweat, your voice raising. “I did NOT!” you intone, and he cackles.

“I got weird looks from just buying them!! I was too scared to look!”

“They’re really not that bad,” Thaddeus chuckles, “I am sure the couples around here get into much worse than the occupants of these books.” You shout another complaint making Thaddeus laugh again.

You pout and thumb at your own small parcels, trying to hide the contagious smile that was spreading across your face.

“Go on,” Thaddeus prompts, resting his hand upon his cheek and watching you expectantly. ���I was. . . debating on buying these for you. . . for a while now. I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate, so I held off on them.”

“That makes me nervous,” You laugh, your fingers fiddling with the tissue paper bundles.

“Now I see why you were so impatient,” Thaddeus huffs, “The suspense is killing me!”

You stick out your tongue playfully before you push yourself to unwrap the paper. Two tiny metal work bats, with delicate and ornate detailing but sat heavy in your palm.

A wisp of a smile tugs at Teddy’s lips. “One is a brooch, and it is inscribed with my house seal. Pin that on your coat, so that no matter where you go darling, everyone will know that your home is here. And, it’s a reminder for you as well, whenever you may feel lost or unwelcome. You are always welcome here.”

Your mouth dries, turning over the brooch to look at it, taking in the details of the tiny glittering jeweled eyes, and the loop of beads that dangled from its wings.

“I-I. . . I don’t know what to say. . . th-thank you Thaddeus.”

Thaddeus flashes a quick smile, before clearing his throat, “The necklace doesn’t have as deep a meaning as the brooch. I had thought that perhaps, it would look handsome on you. You do enjoy your bat motifs, if I recall, and the city is full of that.” He laughs nervously, his unhindered hand flexing against the arm of the couch.

You felt your heartbeat a thick tattoo into your throat. “C-can you help me put it on?”

It takes Teddy a moment to stirr, his eyes darting away for a moment before he gets to his feet. “Why. . . of course darling.”

You stand with your back to him, as cold hands gently reach around your neck. His fingers fiddling with the clasp. He steps back with a little hurriedness in his stride, but beams as you turn around. “Ah yes, as expected, it suits you very well.”

You smile and shuffle your feet. “Thank you Teddy, these are beautiful. . .” You reach for the last gift, lifting it up and handing it to him.

“You’ve out done me,” He teases, “I shall have to go out into the snow and find you another gift!” You smile and shake your head, “Oh no. . . I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, so this is technically a thank you gift for letting me haunt your home.

Thaddeus scoffs as he begins to open the package. “As I have said dear I don’t mind—“ He stops mid-sentence, staring down at the painting. “I. . . O-oh my.”

You smile, shoulders shrugging up as you meekly back away towards the hearth. “It’s something I have been working on for weeks. All those sketches you saw, I was afraid it was going to ruin the surprise.” He sits down heavily, eyes still drawn to the portrait. “I think. . .” He mused faintly, “You’ve made me too handsome.”

You twitter with awkward laughter, “O-oh no! Not at all! That’s exactly how I see you.” You bit your lip, staring at your socks and curling your toes. “It’s the best painting I have ever done, actually. B-because. . . I have a lot of love and tenderness for you. You are. . . more than just a dear friend to me. M-much, much, more. Just being around you. . . makes me feel like. . .” You trail off, shaking your head and laughing. “I don’t know. . . you make me feel like, the best way I can put it is, a somebody. Somebody capable of doing things, and being things, when normally I just feel lost. A-and. . . I. . .” Your eyelids flutter closed, fist closing around the little bat that sat against your collar. “I love you.” You take a deep breath, “I love you, a lot. Your friendship is so very dear to me, and I don’t want to ruin what is between us. Honestly, I am scared that I am ruining what is between us at this very moment.”

Another breath.

“But I wanted you to know. . . just how happy you make me feel. When you’re around. Your wit and your charm, your sense of humor and your smile.”

You tense as you feel a chilly thumb press against your lips. With your eyes closed you hadn’t heard him move, too caught up in trying to keep up with the words that were flowing from your mouth.

“There are lots of things that I adore about you too.” Thaddeus muses, you twitch in surprise at just how close his voice sounded in your proximity. “Your joy, your mind,” Thaddeus’ voice laughs softly, “You make me laugh, more than I think I have around anyone else. You’re like seeing the sun again, when you smile. You’re sunshine in a bottle my dear, you brighten every crevice of this house with your presence.” You tremble as he cups your cheek.

“. . . I would. . . very much like to kiss you, if you would allow me the pleasure.”

[pink-booty-butts]

Valentine’s Day Prompts - Peanuts & Promises (Chris Pitt-Goddard x Reader)

(this gif is iconic)

Pairing: Chris Pitt-Goddard x gn!Reader

Word Count: 1,045

Summary: it’s valentines day with Chris :) based on the prompt “i used to hate this holiday, you know?” “you remind me every year, honey.” from this list

Warnings: none I think!

A/N: requested by an anon, I’m so so SO sorry this took so long and I’m sorry it’s short!! Also I’m sorry if it sucks, chris is probably a bit ooc because i’ve only watched spy once haha. happy very belated valentine’s day!!

-----

It was the third Valentine’s Day the two of you were spending as a couple, yet nothing has changed since the first. You bring home heavy grocery bags filled with overpriced chocolate, and Chris picks out a selection of movies to binge watch while he cuddles with you. You were currently attempting to get the keys out of your jacket pocket without putting your bags down, but Chris apparently heard you struggling as the door swung open and you were greeted with the widest smile you think you’ve seen your boyfriend produce.

“Well hello there, cinnamon roll,” he mentions nonchalantly; quickly grabbing the bags from your hands and giving you a kiss on the cheek. He sets them down on the coffee table before sitting on the couch, tapping the cushion next to him impatiently as he waits for you to sit down so he can smother you in affection. “I missed you so much today,” he expresses.

You chuckle while you take your shoes off, touched by Chris’ comment. You lock the door before walking around the coffee table, sitting down next to Chris and sinking into the couch cushions. As soon as you do so, Chris wraps his arms around your waist and leans forward, causing your back to hit the couch cushions while he lays on top of you.

“I missed you too, Chris,” you smile. At your admission he snuggles his face into your neck, pressing a kiss there, before using his other hand to press the play button and begin your movie marathon.

A couple of finished movies later, Chris is busy finding the next movie he has selected for you guys to watch and you’re in the middle of your bathroom break. Once he finds the movie he was looking for, Chris leans back against the couch and notices your beverage cup is empty, so he picks it up and goes to refill it. While doing so he gets lost in thought, looking around your shared apartment that was currently a trip hazard due to the overwhelming amount of clear plastic wrap, chocolate wrappers, and heart shaped box ends littering the floor that neither of you could be bothered to dispose of neatly. While Chris laments that he wouldn’t have it any other way, he is abruptly shaken from his thoughts when he hears the toilet flush; a blessing in disguise as he nearly overfilled your cup of water. He walks back over to the couch with your cup —expertly navigating the mess as he does so— resulting in him setting down your cup on the table right when you return. He sighs happily, gazing at you like a love-sick puppy.

“Thank you for filling up my water,” you tell him, smiling while taking another sip.

Chris grins, amused by the sight of you drinking water after having just gone to the toilet. “If you keep drinking water like that your peanut-sized bladder is going to make you have to get up during the next movie, peanut.”

“You know Chris, normally the food names are cute, but considering you just used the same word to describe my bladder, I’m not sure how to feel about that one,” you laugh.

“Well, peanuts are cute, you are cute, and since your bladder is inside of you, that means your bladder is also cute,” he explains matter-of-factly.

Your eyebrow raises in mock confusion, but you can’t hide the grin spreading across your face no matter how hard you try. “I wish there was something else inside me right about now, if you know what I mean.” Chris smirks at your dirty joke, giving you an eyebrow wiggle and a saucy ‘oh really?’ before the two of you erupt in a fit of giggles.

Chris wraps his arms around you again, laying on top of you the same way as before. “I used to hate this holiday, you know,” he tells you, his voice muffled against your neck.

“I know Chris, you tell me every year how ‘corporations are just profiting off people’s insecure relationships with their significant others, and if they really loved each other, they’d do it everyday.’”

“Exactly peanut,” he agrees. He raises his head to give you a quick peck on the lips, before burying his head in the crook of your neck once again. “You get me, this is why we’re perfect for each other. I love you so much,” he expresses, squeezing you tightly. 

You fall into a comforting silence, enjoying the warm embrace of each other’s presence. However, Chris begins to remember what he was thinking about when you were in the bathroom, and his thoughts quickly turn sour. “Do you think we’ll still be together next year?” he asks, a hint of insecurity in his voice.

“Of course, why wouldn’t we be?” you question, panic rising in your chest. “Is something wrong?”

“No of course not,” he adds quickly. “It’s just, do you ever think about how our relationship is so perfect? I always thought relationships were supposed to be hard, but when I’m around you everything just feels... easier.”

“I used to think that too, but now I think it just means we’re super compatible,” you respond, trying to ease his anxieties.

“Yeah, you’re probably right, butterscotch,” he lazily leans his arm over the table to put a chocolate in his mouth. He chews slowly, savoring the taste. “We’re going to be together forever, right?”

“Definitely,” you answer, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close to you.

Chris smiles against your neck in response, before lifting his head up again to give you another kiss; almost as if he couldn’t help himself. You then exchange little, fleeting kisses with plenty of giggles in between them, which slowly grow more desperate and heated. 

Through your exchange of soft touches, one of you manages to accidentally hit the remote and the movie Chris selected begins playing right when he slips his hand underneath your shirt. The two of you stop your movements to look at the TV briefly before glancing back at each other, nodding in agreement and diving in for another passionate kiss. The movie continues playing in the background, but it was long forgotten in favor of feeling your skin against his.

[theemporium]

hello cece!!!☀️ i want to wish you a (super belated, i’m sorry, i was a little mia on here) happy new year, congratulate you on 9k (you deserve it sooo much!!❤️) and on passing your first test, and wish you good luck for all the exams you have🍀 i’m also in the exam period rn so i feel with everyone who couldn’t enjoy the holidays properly and have to study now, but we’ll push through!!

also giiirl, your christmas charles fic is too damn perfect, i’ve finally just finished it!! i love it so much, it’s a fucking masterpiece and you’re soo talented❤️ i had goosebumps reading it, i loved all the build-up and they way you wrote charles was amazing, you could see why stormy thought he was a dick, but then he was so gentle and loving and it made my heart melt🥹 i also loved the scene where charles said “no buts” and blushed, i thought that was hilarious (he blushed because his non-english brain told him he essentially said “no butts” right? or am i reading too much into this?😂) the whole fic was just beautiful and i want to thank you for writing it, it was so comforting❤️

(also, how are you able to write 13k in such a short time? my only wip is at 3k after 3 months, but it’s true that i’ve been neglecting it lol)

and sorry for a long-ass ask, i just can’t keep it short apparently😅

CHRISTINE SHUT UP!! YOU ARE SO CUTE😭😭😭😭THANK YOU!!!!🫶🏽

omg happy new years to you too!! and good luck with your exams as well🥲they are fucking killers but I believe in you!!!!

and stop shshsbsjabajsbssj you’re so sweet about the charles fic🥹🫶🏽but I am so glad you liked it!!! idk how I managed that fic in a short amount of time but I was inspired. I had a vision and I ran with it!!!!🤠

but please never apologise, I always love the long ass asks you send! they are always so wholesome🥹

[taruchinator]

🎁 General Audiences

🎁 2.6k Words

🎁 For the @twewysecretsanta!

Neku Sakuraba never thought in a million years that he'd get another chance at celebrating Christmas.

He'd saved Shibuya again, reunited with his friends, and even made new ones along the way— It was a happy ending no matter which way you sliced it! Or at least it seemed like it. Why did it all feel too good to be true?

“Neku?” Right, Shiki was with him. He didn't want to worry his girlfriend over something so inconsequential.

But to her, it was anything but that.

Hello everyone! And a belated Merry Christmas to you! ^^;

Thanks to the world of retail sucking the life outta me in the Holiday season, plus catching NO LESS than three colds in December alone, this took longer than I expected.

This is the fic for my giftee @ghostofchaosyettocome in the TWEWY Secret Santa event, using their prompt of a Post-NEO Neshiki Christmas (along with a hint of PTSD!Neku cause we need that drama lol) I hope you like it! <3

And so there she was, sporting an adorable Mr. Mew Christmas sweater of her own making which honestly looked far too big on her, all the while staring at him with a hint of confusion.

Neku Sakuraba never thought in a million years that he'd get another chance at celebrating Christmas.

To say being trapped in the endless void of Shinjuku for two years was scarring would be an understatement— seeing what could only be described as ‘ghosts’ of souls that used to live in a thriving environment, replaying the same tormenting cycle as if they were still alive, when they clearly weren't.

It had taken Neku a long time to come to terms with this fact. That they weren't there. Weren't real.

Yet still, the souls would continue acting on autopilot, reflecting habits from their old lives. Everything from talking, to laughing, to even celebrating. It was a truly surreal experience that never had Neku feeling more alone.

Because of this, the legendary player would find himself understanding better than ever that old saying of ‘You never know what you have until you lose it.’ And the feelings were very much still present, despite having escaped both Shinjuku and the Reaper's game almost five months ago.

He'd saved Shibuya again, reunited with his friends, and even made new ones along the way—It was a happy ending no matter which way you sliced it! Or at least it seemed like it.

Why did it all feel too good to be true?

“Neku?”

A firm yet gentle voice broke the teen out of whatever trance he'd placed himself in, almost causing him to jump out of his skin if he didn't stop himself on time. With all that thinking he'd almost forgotten where he was.

Speaking of his newest friends and going back to the holiday season, the Wicked Twisters had proposed the idea of hosting a small Christmas party with the gang. Well, it was mostly brought up by Fret, who got immediate backup from Shoka and Nagi, so it wasn't like anyone else could refuse.

They'd do it relatively early though, so everyone could still have enough time to go home and spend the evening with their families as well.

The Twisters were in charge of the food, with Fret claiming he had connections with a few restaurants that might be willing to lend a generous hand. The Bito siblings would take care of entertainment, Rhyme almost signing up for the position by herself since she had a few new gadgets she'd been tinkering with that, according to her, would make their little get together much livelier.

Which left Neku and Shiki with the decorations.

The duo had made a date out of the whole thing by going to purchase everything from a tree, to snow globes, to even small things like wrapping paper. Shiki spared no expense in acquiring any of these either, since she considered herself the host due to the party being held at her apartment— It was the largest out of everyone's homes.

Once they'd reunited at the Hachiko statue and fulfilled the promise they'd made to each other all those years ago, Neku felt bold enough to declare his feelings, and he could've never expected them to be reciprocated. After everything he'd put her through, after being what could only be described as a major asshole for the majority of the time they knew each other, how could someone like Shiki Misaki have feelings for him?

Right, he hadn't answered yet.

“Sorry, what was that? I spaced out for a sec there.” Neku rubbed at the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, hoping he could get away without any inquiries.

Shiki continued to stare, most likely trying to decipher what was hiding behind his current expression, before extending her hand towards him. “I'll say! I was asking if you could pass me the ornaments from the box over there.”

Neku followed to where she was gesturing and quickly found the cardboard box behind him. It was filled with all sorts of nick knacks brought together by the gang, each with their own special meanings and ready to be placed on the tree. The teen pushed the box in her direction with a smile. “Sure thing. We won't be short on these, that's for sure.”

As she accepted the box and gave him a small smile, the brunette pushed it to the side for the time being. “Yeah, everyone really put their all into this! Still… you okay?” With a roll of her eyes, Shiki joked lightly. “I'll be needing my decorating buddy at a hundred percent if we're gonna get this done on time.”

“Damn. Guess I can't fool her…” Neku prided himself on being able to mask his true feelings in front of others without anyone realizing it. He'd definitely gotten better over the years in expressing what he felt, but there were times when he didn't deem it necessary, and even considered that they would be a burden if not handled carefully.

But if there was one person that could see right through him, it was Shiki.

Despite knowing all of this, he tried one more time, not wanting his dumb thoughts to interfere with the jolly energy of the season. He smiled once more with a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “Of course I'm okay! I've just been kinda stressed lately with all the organizing we've had to do. Not that I don't enjoy spending time with you, but who knew planning a party would be this hard, haha…”

The look on Shiki's face was more than enough for him, though; It was clear she didn't believe him. Still, her eyes didn't reflect negativity of any kind.

She stood from the ground next to the tree and boxes piled around her, making her way to Neku. After sitting next to him on the couch, she tentatively reached for his hand, but not quite touching it, allowing him to make the first move if he so desired. She then spoke with that firm yet gentle voice he'd grown to love so much. “Hey. Talk to me. Please? Remember you're not alone anymore— I'm right here if you need anything.”

The fluttering in Neku's chest was completely uncalled for and Shiki had no right in bringing him so much comfort. Making him feel taken care of. As if he was special.

And yet that was one of the many qualities that made him love his girlfriend so very much.

Shiki smiled in return with a soft pink hue adorning her cheeks. As she squeezed her boyfriend's hand once more, she rose from her seat. “Actually, wait here! I'm gonna grab something real quick!”

Still, it was true. She claimed to have fallen for the real Neku. The one she'd slowly gotten the pleasure of knowing during their time together in the Reaper's Game— a boy who'd been hurt by the world and only wanted to be left alone, but deep down had a heart of gold that wouldn't allow him to leave those in need.

And so, to literally no one's surprise in their friend group, they became a couple.

It was both awkward yet endearing, and neither could be more happy. But of course, after everything the legendary player had gone through in his two years stuck in Shinjuku, it took a while to readjust and feel comfortable around everyday mundane stuff again.

Shiki learned how to handle Neku's anxieties, his worries, and his fears— most of the time whenever he was having a crisis, their friends would call her immediately to ask what to do. And even though he hated being a burden, the seamstress merely shushed him and said that she did it gladly.

And so here she was, doing the thing she did best— bringing him back to his senses and making sure he felt safe.

He reached for her hand and interlocked their fingers, squeezing slightly while she did the same. She was warm. She was real. “I guess I'm just… still wrapping my head around being here. With you guys.”

With her eyes encouraging him to elaborate, he did. “I spent two years away from everyone. I know it's already been months since then, but there's always that voice nagging at the back of my head… whispering and making me question things.”

“Things like what?” Shiki leaned closer, not into Neku's personal bubble, but enough to show that she was paying close attention.

“Things like… is any of this for real? Or not? I… I get scared thinking I'll just wake up one day and still be stuck there. Thinking that this was all a dream,” a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “Coco was probably the only person who kept me sane all that time, believe it or not.”

“And that is why she and Tsugumi are getting extra presents this year.” Shiki nodded towards the unwrapped gifts still laying on the coffee table. She bumped her shoulders against his with a wink. “Gotta show appreciation for taking care of my spicy tuna roll in my absence.”

The duo chuckled with the tension dissipating from Neku's shoulders bit by bit. How could she do that so effortlessly?

“In any case,” the brunette turned her gaze to their intertwined hands, gently tracing circles around Neku's knuckles. “I can't begin to imagine what that must have been like. I know you've already told us a bit about it, but if there's anything I can do to make that feeling become a little less overbearing, just let me know. I'm sure the others would do the same, if you ever feel like sharing.”

Neku gave her a soft smile, a genuine one this time. As he lifted their joined hands, he was sure to plant a soft kiss on her own backhand, scarred from all the sewing she was used to doing. In a way it was kind of ironic— she also had a wounded heart, one that Neku did his best to show love and appreciation to every day, and yet she still focused on other's well-being first and foremost. “You're already doing enough just by being here.”

A blush spread across the teen's face with a breathless chuckle leaving his lips. “Come on, Shiki. These are far from perfect. Still, I'm glad you like them.”

With that said, the seamstress practically skipped over to her bedroom in what could only be described as excitement. It took her less than a minute to return with a medium sized box, wrapped in green wrapping paper and tied in a neat purple bow. A grin spread across her face as she presented the gift with pride. “Merry Christmas!”

“Wow, hey,” Neku returned the smile, albeit seeming hesitant as he looked at the box in her hands. “We're doing this now? I mean, we agreed to open the gifts with everyone…”

“Oh don't worry, I've got another much less interesting thing wrapped for you under the tree.” Shiki nodded towards a tiny box lined next to the few wrapped presents that they'd already finished. “Besides, I get girlfriend priority— Now just open it!”

The teen chuckled in amusement, but gladly took the package off her hands and started weighing it around, curiosity clear in his gaze. It had to be something handmade. This was Shiki after all, and she always put that kind of effort into her gifts.

He could've never predicted what was inside.

The box opened to reveal a medium sized notebook, along with a kit of markers and crayons of pretty much every shade of the rainbow. After flipping through the booklet, his mouth hung open slightly.

It was a journal.

“I know your therapist recommended that you keep one, but I couldn't help but notice that the one you have is… well, kinda plain.” Shiki fidgeted with the hem of her fluffy sweater as she began her explanation. “Shoka helped me pick the design and I added the little doodles inside. You can make your own, though! And it also has a custom playlist on a few important dates…”

Tiny drawings with everything from character portraits, to animals, to musical notes were sprinkled here and there. Shiki had never been much of an artist, but Neku could tell she'd spent some time making these. The smile wouldn't leave his face as he kept flipping through it all. “This is… amazing. I love it.”

“You do? Ahh, I'm so glad! I know it's not the best, but I figured it would look better than your plain old notebooks.” Shiki giggled and started showing off some of the things she'd included personally in the journal. A page for positive talk, another for gloomy thoughts that wouldn't go away, and even one for things he might wanna talk to her about.

It was one of the cutest things he'd ever gotten, and honestly he shouldn't be surprised.

“Well, I guess since we're starting early, might as well give you yours.” Neku leaned over to reach for his backpack on the side of the couch, rummaging through it until he found a small green box with a silver bow. He turned to the brunette with a shy smile, not quite meeting her eyes. “Merry Christmas…”

Shiki's eyes instantly lit up as she quickly accepted the gift. With bated breath, he saw her open the box and delicately grab what was nestled inside.

Two small plushies were now in Shiki's hands, and not just any plushies— fluffy replicas of both herself and Neku.

The stitching was quite rough, a few strings already coming loose around the edges, but you could see the tiny details embedded into the fabric. Patterns, accessories and more were all there. The dolls smiled back at Shiki, and Neku could've sworn he heard her gasp softly. “Neku… did you… did you make these?”

Neku merely scratched at the back of his neck, looking anywhere but in her direction as he began to ramble. “I mean, Eri helped me pick out the materials and with the designs, but all the stuffing and stitching was definitely me. I know they aren't great, but you always get me handmade stuff and after thinking about Mr. Mew I thought I could do something similar? You're more than welcome to fix them though, I'm sure you'd do a much better job—”

His train of thought was promptly interrupted by a pair of arms snaking around his own, pulling him downwards with a soft pair of lips placing a kiss on his cheek. He then heard her giggle, happy and carefree. “Are you kidding me? Neku Sakuraba, I am not touching these unless they start falling apart in my hands! Because you made them, and that makes them perfect.”

And that was more than he could ever ask for.

“Like them? I love them!” Shiki reiterated the point by giving the plushies a bear hug. “Now I can have you with me no matter where you are. Doesn't mean you can go off and get yourself tangled in more world-ending adventures, though!”

Neku laughed in reply, feeling the last shred of uneasiness wash away from him. What did he do to deserve such happiness? “I'll keep that in mind. Anyways, you think we can get back to work? Don't want the others to realize we've been goofing off. Nagi won't let us live it down.”

Shiki laughed in reply, placing the dolls on top of her chimney for them to guard the stockings. “Oh man, it's Shoka I'm most worried about. I know she has something special planned for Rindo, so we need to get this tree up and running STAT!”

“Aye aye, captain!” The teen situated himself next to his girlfriend and began to help her decide which ornament would look best where.

Life wasn't always fair. But for some reason Neku couldn't possibly grasp, it was now being extremely kind to him— With a family who cared for him, friends who adored him, and the love of the girl who stole his heart.

✦ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ✦