#The First Christmas: A Story of New Beginnings

[fullyvisible]

Since I found it helpful for Seasons 1 and 2, I've also made a list of all the songs in Season 3 of Heartstopper, with notes on what's happening while each plays! While I've kept the descriptions relatively brief/vague, there are (obviously) still spoilers below:

1. The Way Things Go - opening, Tori, Charlie rehearsing in the mirror

2. It's Euphoric - arriving at the beach

3. Paradise Calling - Tao and Elle get ice cream

4. Happy, Healthy, Well-Adjusted - sand castles, song in Charlie's headphones

5. A Letter to Myself at 17 - Charlie and Nick in the sea

6. Superinlove (Roll Credits) - Tao cooks for Elle

7. Duet - Charlie looking at pictures and remembering

8. Best Day Of My Life - I love you, kiss under streetlight, Tara and Darcy sleeping, Tao and Elle dinner, end of episode one

9. **It Gets Better - beginning of episode two, Nick leaving for vacation, texting Charlie

10. I'm Not Perfect (But I'm Trying) - exam results

11. Shell - Charlie scrolling insta stories, won't send selfie

12. Abigail - Nick looks at phone and listens to music

13. Vertigo - Darcy unpacks with Tara and Elle

14. My Vine - Nick and his Aunt talk on the beach, end of episode two

15. Car Park - beginning episode three, first day of school

16. Pretty Boy - Nick and Charlie see each other!

17. Genesis - Tao following Elle's every move on social media

18. One That Got Away - zoo!!!

19. complex - Nick goes with Charlie to talk to his parents, end of episode three

20. I Spend Too Much Time In My Room - beginning of episode four, Nick and Tara talk, Nick journals

21. Black Friday -Nick trying to be there for Charlie

22. BLUE - Halloween party, Tao's video

23. I Wanna Know - Halloween party

24. Wide Eyes and Halos - Halloween party

25. Liquer & Cigarettes - Halloween party

26. darkwave sabbat - Halloween party

27. leavemealone - Halloween party

28. Witchcraft - Halloween party

29. Wish on an Eyelash - Visiting Charlie

30. Seratonin - Charlie arrives at treatment

31. That Was the Worst Christmas Ever! - beginning episode 5, Tori waking up and going to Charlie

32. Are You OK? - Christmas montage with the group chat

33. Bruises Off the Peach - Charlie leaves Tori and goes to Nick

34. So Clear - Christmas with Nick's family

35. Too Much Time Together - Nick and Henry getting ready

36. Enjoy Your Life - New Year's house party arrival

37. Rush - New Year's party

38. Devotion - New Year's party (Tao and Elle)

39. Loveher - New Year's party (Tori)

40. In My Head - New Year's party (Imogen and Sahar, Tori and Michael, midnight!), end of episode five

41. I Used to Be Fun - Charlie's birthday

42. A Young Understanding - Charlie's party, tents

43. Just Stay For Once - Charlie's party, drinking

44. good 4 u - Charlie's party, more drinking

45. Sad Disco - Charlie's party, talking future

46. A Running Start - therapy, end of episode six

47. Dive - beginning episode seven, Tara's ballet class, Nick and Charlie heart eyes

48. Pegasus - Tara and Darcy hooking up

49. Heartbreaker - Nick and Charlie in the locker room and rugby pitch, Nick suggests sleepover

50. The Most Beautiful Thing - Tao's movie for Elle

51. Ode to a Conversation Suck In Your Throat - Nick and Charlie hooking up, end of episode seven

52. Love You - Charlie gets to school, montage of Nick and Charlie's exams

53. Right Here, For Now - touring Kent

54. Close One - touring Oxford

55. Joe - Nick and Charlie phone call, Leeds tour

56. A Good Thing - Charlie looking at Head Boy application and choosing outfit for band performance

57. The Outsiders - leaving the fair

58. million little reasons - Nick and Charlie's sleepover, end of season three

[flamingpudding]

Glitterbombs for rogues

A/N: I got sick over the holidays. So I did not do any of the writing I originally wanted to do. So instead of that Christmas Story you get this Mark Rober inspired little tidbit.

Tim had a new favorite Engineer Youtube. The boy was a bit younger than him but a genius Engineer judging by the hand full of videos Tim had marathoned through. According to the listed self-introduction part of the video, Danny was currently an engineering student in Gotham with the goal to work one day for NASA. (Tim held out some hopes that he maybe could snag the kid for WE if possible. He had already sent out an internship offer after the third video he had watched)

Either way, Danny had potential and ideas that borderlined on mad science. But made his videos of his little projects even more entertaining and interesting to watch. Tim's favorite so far was Danny's explanation on how he reconstructed his toaster so that it would launch itself into space after the third his roommate burned toast with it. He did buy his roommate a new toaster at the end of the video though.

Still Tim liked this guy and his videos. So with anticipation he clicked on one of the newer videos. The title having caught his attention: 'Why Glitter'.

Instead of the usual introduction bit with little highlights of Danny's previous project the video started out with a big fat warning in red letter to not attempt to replicate anything in the video. That had Tim very curious already, but then a little video clip following that had Tim spitting out the coffee he was just sipping from.

Thankfully he missed spitting on his phone, still he jumped out of his cozy bed where he had been watching YouTube on his phone and hurried over to his laptop. The video, meanwhile, was continuing playing. He could hear the usual music from the introduction part as well as Danny's voice explaining his reasosn -which were valid, Tim had to agree with some of them- once that part was done.

By now he had fired up his laptop and was researching. The video in the background was explaining how Danny had build his Glitterbombs similar to the once another youtuber had but slightly modified them since he was not going to use fart-spray. Tim eyes widened as he found the first correlating news articles, wondering how they hadn't seen them sooner, but a glance at the date revealed that they were only posted a couple of hours ago.

Danny in the video was no explaining about his fist chooses victim and Tim dived onto his bed from his desk to get his phone back in his hands. Wide eyed, he watched as Danny obviously with a GoPro strapped to his head, crawled through what looked like an air vent. Once he reached an opening he looked through the slits into what appeared to be Riddlers hide out. Danny took the Camara of his head so that he could grin into it making the sign for silence as he barely contained his own chuckles. The other then waited for a moment, the camera work now getting wonky and the video even glitching out but a second later Danny was back in focuse before pointing down and then directing the Camara to his view. There in Riddlers hideout now sat Danny's self engineered glitterbomb.

"No he didn't..." Tim muttered as the video cut to a different scene. Danny was now walking through the sewers, humming cheerfully while explaining why he chose who he choose.

Another cut and... Tim spluttered. How the hell did Danny manage to just walk into Arkam?! So he hadn't seen wrong at the beginning of the video.

Growing paller with every cut on how Danny delivered his self-engineered Glitter bombs, Tim started to fear for his new favorite youtubers safety. Thankfully he had already done his work on Danny's person when he sent the internship offer. Now he just needed to get Danny to freaking safty.

He dragged himself to his laptop still in disbelieve as various clips of the rogues getting glitterbombed from the bombs perspective started playing. And yep, he definitely didn't see wrong now in the beginning. The Joker was one of Danny's chooses victums. Aside from the fact that he was so going to download and save that video for eternity as well as share it with his brothers and friends, (because as funny as it was that most of them were Gotham rogues, Luther and another millionaire by the name of Masters had also been made victims.), he still had to figure out how to ensure this definitely insane youtubers safer from the warmth of 90% of their rogues now.

Great newly discovered favorite youtuber has just painted a big fat red target on himself.

Tim was just about to call everyone in when a bonus at the end of Danny's video started to play.

He recognized that safe house.

He recognizes the weapons displayed on the walls also.

Oh... that's...

Still laughing Tim still sent out a message to everyone. When asked why all he did was sent them the link to the video with to timestamps.

The first one of the Joker getting glitterbombed

The second one being Red Hood getting glitterbombed.

[tteokdoroki]

THIRD TIME'S A CHARM - kento nanami.

✩ — about. “my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it." kento nanami never cared for workplace shenanigans. he never took his mind off of work. and he never thought he would develop feelings for his coworker, nor expect for them to feel the same way about him. what happens when he misses your three attempts to ask him out? perhaps reddit will know... ( 5.5K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, angst, happy ending  - video banner ! AITA-verse!au, office romance!au, mutual pinining, cluelessness, misunderstandings, christmas time, mentions of alcohol, office worker!nanami, afab!reader.

✩ — things to note. happy monday everyone, i have for you yet another fic to go with my gojo one! this story was written as a gift for @antizenin bc i love her so bad !! can be read as a stand-alone but does make refrences to my AITA gojo fic !! thank you to @todorosie for beta reading! hope you enjoy beloveds <3 - series m.list ⋆ m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

my coworker is a wonderful person. they’re kind and sweet. they care a lot about others. recently, i’ve been having some…less than platonic feelings for them and i don’t know how to handle it. my chest feels tight when they’re away and whenever they’re nearby my heart beats so fast i feel like i might pass. it would be a pleasure to date them or to just stand by them… there’s only one problem. i’m not usually the type of guy who engages in workplace shenanigans, i hardly know how to interact with people outside of the confines of my work. my coworker has made a few advances, at least i think they have. i don’t know how to respond or whether or not i’m over-thinking this. do they even like me? is it all in my head? i could really do with some advice… how should i go about this and telling them how i feel?  TLDR: i have a crush on my coworker but i can’t, for the life of me, tell if they like me back. 

you’ve always liked your co-worker, kento nanami.

to those who don’t know him, he appears quite stoic and blunt, cold even. like the crisp weather at the start of winter, air that’s sharp and bites unpleasantly at your nose. nanami tends to act the same towards those he holds no affections for, blocking them out as if he were a fortress made of stone.

one may even paint a picture of kento nanami as a lone wolf — callous and uninterested in the buzz of the office. he stays late, works long hours, never engages with the gossip on your floor after work. 

that’s only the beginning of how the world sees your blonde co-worker.

but you have come to know nanami, in your short time working for Gojo Corporations. you’ve not been there very long, still adapting to the office culture and your brand new line of work, but in the few months that you have been finding your equilibrium in the office — you’ve gotten used to nanami’s demeanour, his ethic, his lifestyle. you’ve come to appreciate it, and him. 

the man works hard, with a quiet confidence about him that puts your mind at ease — a quality you only wished that you had. it makes you curious, how little he seems to care about what it is Gojo Corp actually does but how much of his time he puts into it and how much he cares for the people around him too. you’ve learned, by taking the desk to nanami’s left, that he’d risen pretty quickly in the company, he begrudgingly seems to be gojo’s (your boss’) favourite employee and that he’s surprisingly good at what he does for someone who hates it so much. 

he presents at meetings and debfriefs calmly, always gets through his tasks with an air of rationale and when you’d first started…nanami was kind, gently leading you through your own work as if he’d taken your hand in his and was guiding you to some place warmer — away from the chill of your nerves and self-doubt. in his own way, he cared. nanami was not as cold as one might think. 

there’s so much more to him than what meets the average human eye. ever since joining the company — you found yourself curious, wanting to know everything about him. what drives him, what pisses him off, where he wants to go and who he wants to be. beneath his calm, collected and commanding aura there is a man whose heart holds many secrets. a man you want to know… and might even want to be with.

the very thought of being with nanami makes you shy where you wish that you weren’t. maybe then, you could tell the blonde office man how handsome you thought he looked while concentrating on filing reports and paperwork. perhaps you could then steel your nerves and stop the shake in your voice while telling him how much you like the low dip in his own when he explains KPIs and stock markets to you. not to mention how hard he works on keeping his patience with not just you… but the interns megumi, nobara and yuuji as well (yuuji was the brother of someone your boss new very well back in college, apparently). the ways in which he’s taken the young trio under your wing, it’s a wonder you haven’t had baby fever yet.

nanami even extends the same grace to your man-child of a boss, he wouldn’t have stayed working for Gojo Corp and for satoru gojo if he didn’t. in some ways, they were like a little family at the company, and nanami was the responsible one always picking up gojo’s messes and holding the others together. 

especially on days when gojo came into work emotional over developments in his ex’s new life.

still, nanami stayed. 

and your crush on him bloomed like a light frost spreading across the double-glazed glass of a window. 

you felt your heartbeat speed up whenever nanami was close by and you could smell the ginger and cinnamon on him, not to mention, the hairs on the back of your neck would stand whenever your hands brushed over one another’s. nanami was warm on the inside, you knew that — he liked his interns, he cared for gojo especially when the days were tough (like when he holed himself up in his office after finding out his ex was getting engaged). he even brought lunch for the office floor. mostly soup for haibara whenever he got sick. 

you knew deep down that nanami was soft and loving — you felt that he needed love too. you wanted to be the one to give it to him, even if it was the last thing you did.

ATTEMPT #ONE - THE CHRISTMAS PARTY. 

satoru gojo’s office holiday parties were far from what was considered appropriate for the workplace. 

with thousand dollar bottles of booze and jars of caviar dotted about the main conference room — it was hard for anyone not to be in high spirits. the notes of cheery christmas carols drift through your ears and the tinsel that your boss had thrown over your shoulders scratches at your neck uncomfortably. you’re not one for buzzing celebrations like this, they’re too noisy and loud, but gojo has made you promise to attend this year's party… and he was oddly convincing for a manager this unserious. 

ultimately, you were glad that you’d decided to come because while being spoiled by your boss was all good and fun — it provided you with the perfect social setting and opportunity to speak to your longtime crush, nanami. 

like you, he wasn’t a fan of forced mingling in the office, and had no interest in consoling his tipsy manager who was currently crying up a storm into one of his poor intern’s shoulders. the blonde office man kept to himself, tucked away by the bright lights of the christmas tree as he nursed a piping hot coffee — he wouldn’t be getting drunk on company time. 

you manage to break away from conversing with shoko and make your way over to the latter co-worker, swallowing down your nerves with a swig of the moscato satoru had so generously picked out for you — knowing that you liked the sweeter stuff and that it would probably loosen your lips enough for you to get this over with (he and those interns were fully aware of how much you admired kento nanami). sliding up beside the man, your long, embroided skirts swish against his ankles — only serving to pull his attention away from his work phone and onto you. 

taking a sip of your drink to warm yourself up with liquid courage and break the ice — you hum, quietly. “any plans for the holidays, kento?” you ask him simply, and though your deep and gorgeous brown eyes stay trained on the bubbles in your glass — you can feel kento’s own chocolatey pair land on the side of your face. whether they’re scrutinising you or admiring you, you can’t actually tell.

if you were looking, you’d be able to see the way that the sharp edges of kento’s usual expression soften across his face — the straight line of his lips are parted, his furrowed brows becomes relax and his posture no longer ridged, but instead, at ease. if you were looking you’d know that out of all of his co-workers (aside from the interns), kento is most comfortable around you. he find your meek and cautious demeanour adorable and the way that you sometimes awkwardly flutter around him in conversations is cute. 

“not much, just working.” he responds quickly and shortly. to anyone else, they would have taken nanami’s reply as cold and callous, but you? you smile softly, glad that he’s even taking part in your small talk. 

you’ve always been a little quieter than most colleagues at Gojo Corp, but you’ve always tried your hardest to make connections and bring the group together. you care for the interns so deeply, helping them to learn from your initial mistakes at the organisation and to do better. he likes that you’re good company, knowing just the right things to ask and when, allowing for comfortable silences when no one in the team feels like talking.

nanami likes you. 

and perhaps that’s what makes him awkward around you as well, the very fact that he can’t find fault in you — that you’re too sweet and kind and gentle to complain about like he would with nagging gojo. what does he say to someone as wonderful as you?

he doesn’t want the moment to end, however. “how about you?” 

the blonde says your name softly, as though he’s testing it out on his tongue — and you can’t help the warmth that blooms like a spring rose in your chest at the honeysuckle sound. you’re hot all over and you’re sure it’s not the alcohol. 

“f-family!” you squeak shyly, voice high pitched as you fend off excitement — having nanami elaborate on your conversations isn’t a usual occurrence. coughing, you take a sip of your drink and knock it down a notch. not that kento would want you to, since he finds your enthusiasm to chat with him so endearing. “i have family…coming. o-over the break! flying in from abroad, so it’s going to be special.”  the blonde’s brow raises with interest, and you latch onto the opportunity to speak with him further, basking in your quiet moment together. “i’m not usually one to cook, but my mother and i will be handling dinner together! so it’ll be a mix of all sorts of foods. traditional and from our home country too.” 

nanami slips his work phone away in order to give you his full attention. “that sounds…wonderful,” he settles on saying. he wonders what your family is like, if they’re as shy and endearing as you or louder like that of the dynamics at the office. he imagines you surrounded by love, by laughter and warmth… and can’t help but yearn for the same. “i do miss home cooking, christmas in new york isn’t quite the same as japan.”

“t-then you’re welcome to spend christmas with us!” you blurt before your mind can even process what you’ve said. now you really must be drunk, or tipsy at the very least. who just invites their coworkers over to their house without getting to know them first. “we’ll have more than enough to fix you a plate…if you’d like,” despite your overexcited blunder, you remain hopeful that nanami will accept your invitation or at least get the hint. that you want to know him better and spend more time with him. 

but nanami doesn’t take the hint, he can’t seem to figure out why you’d want to spend time with him outside of work, and so, puts up a respectful boundary. nanami smiles and puts down the coffee he’d been drinking. “i wouldn’t want to impose on your time with family.” 

you frown, the stacked bricks of your excitement coming tumbling down. “kento that’s not what i meant—“ 

“look!” gojo cuts in, slurring from across the room as he points a shaky finger at the two of you by the tree. “they’re standin’ un’da the mistletoe!”

both yourself and nanami look up in disbelief to find yourselves standing under calculatedly placed mistletoe — no doubt due to the meddling of your boss. though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss nanami, it was more of question as to whether or not he wanted to kiss you.

“gojo, you’re drunk. and i really should be getting back to work.” kento insists, clearing his throat and immediately looking away from you with a bashful blush. you’re perfect, and darling, and to kiss you really would make kento’s day…but he’d never want to make you uncomfortable or put you on the spot like this. “i have budget reports for your meeting in a few hours.” 

“fuck the reports, don’t you wanna kiss the pretty lady?” nanami looks to you, shying away from the conversation and squirming under the sudden attention of the office party-goers. “i wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.” 

“i-i wouldn’t be.” comes your hushed whisper. 

nanami coughs to clear his throat, flustered by you. “are you sure?” 

having had enough of your back and forth, dancing around one another like two teenagers confessing to each other on white day — gojo steps in, forcing his drunk yet authoritarian hand. “come on nanamin,” the white haired man drawls impatiently. “if you don’t kiss her! i will!” 

“no!” you and nanami bark adamantly in unison — causing gojo to smirk and stagger happily while megumi and yuuji hold him up.

 “then go ahead and kiss. or i’ll have to fire you.” 

the idea of losing your job over a trivial christmas tradition is enough to spook you into agreeing. that and you couldn’t imagine kissing satoru gojo… the thought makes you gag to yourself. “fine,” nanami grunts before looking to and addressing you next, “do you mind?” 

you nod once, breath shaky. “it’s okay.” 

“where are you most comfortable being kissed?”

“um, i haven’t… i’ve not had my first yet so…” 

“ah, i see. i won’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable then.” hearing the news makes something weird… stir within the blonde’s firm chest. being your first kiss, his co-worker’s first kiss is an appealing thought — almost a little twisted and selfish for him. to have that honour, to be the one you would give it to, makes his head spin. 

gojo cute through his train of thought, however. “god, would you too hurry it up!”

nanami rolls his eyes at his boss (which would have gotten anyone else fired.) but let’s the corners of his pink lips quirk up into a subtle smile directed at you, and only you. cautiously, he leans down as though not to spook you like a deer in the woods, and takes your hand in his larger and more calloused one. “sorry about this.” he hums quietly, the rough pad of his thumbs traversing through the ridges of your knuckles. 

“i-it’s fine.” you repeat your earlier sentiment, holding your burning breath as kento drags the back of your hand up to his lips. dark brown eyes meet even darker ones — your gentle gazes meeting in the middle as the tensions rise within the conference room. your entire body melts like butter in a pan and your heart bursts out your chest with the crescendo of the christmas music in the background when kento nanami presses a soft chaste kiss to the back of your hand.

your kiss under the mistletoe. 

once he breaks eye contact and snaps out of it — nanami is quick to announce is departure, covering up his flustered expression. “now, i really must be getting back to work. thank you for the party gojo,  kids,”  he nods at you softly with an utterance of your name and leaves not long after, leaving you with a flurry of butterflies in your tummy. 

leaving you a sheepish, warm mess because while you had intended to ask nanami out and failed, you still managed to get somewhat of a kiss. 

you press your hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of kento’s lips embedded into the skin there. somehow, you find it within yourself to ignore gojo's whine for a proper mistletoe liplock in the background — choosing to focus on the lingering touch left by your crush.

“how about the receptionist, she’s into you!” you hear yuuji suggest, earning a cheer from your stupid silver haired boss. 

the three interns plus gojo disappear from the party after that, while you remain stuck in place like a statue made of stones— repeating the kiss in your head over and over again, in your thoughts drowning in images of kento nanami. 

ATTEMPT #TWO - THE SECRET SANTA.

“good morning, kento!”

“good morning to you too,” 

bristling from nanami’s warm greeting (as well as him calling you by your first name), you shuffle into the seat beside him with cold cheeks and bright eyes — doing your best to quietly shift out of your winter attire to make sure you don’t disturb the rest of the conference room. you’ve just snuck into the team meeting for Gojo Corp’s annual secret santa. this year would be your first time taking part and it took a hell of a lot of bribing (not really, just some locally made daifuku and the number of the receptionist gojo might be crushing on) to convince your boss to give you nanami for the special festive event. 

picking out a gift for your blonde haired and stoic presenting crush proved difficult at first. you already knew that kento spent a lot of time at the office, working hard and dedicating himself to hours of paperwork — but that wasn’t exactly useful to know when it came to gift giving. however, after weeks of gathering intel by tapping into whatever office buzz nanami was involved in and sharing short exchanges with him by the coffee cart outside of Gojo Corp, you’ve managed to learn two things about kento nanami.

one, his appreciation for something homemade or cooked — like the quaint family owned bakery not too far from the office. 

and two, his dream destination. the one place that he’s always wanted to vacation to — Kuantan, Malaysia. 

now you couldn’t exactly afford to just splurge and buy him a ticket over there, not to mention there was a considerate budget placed on gifts…but what you could do is bring nanami’s favourite things to the office. while gojo sets out the rules for staff, you gently place your carefully wrapped presents on the table before you, again, trying to avoid making a ruckus with the crinkling wrapping paper. 

“you’re a little later than usual.” nanami comments to you in a low tone, having been watching you this entire time. 

he would feel weird saying it out loud, but he notices that you’re always early into the office — clicking in around twenty minutes to nine every day and that you take your time in setting up your desk for the day. as though you have a routine to calm your anxieties.

“i had to stop by somewhere for a last minute gift.” you grin after a hushed quip. and nanami can’t help but find it contagious. you’re a warm ray of sunshine to him — one that he can’t help but want to bask under and be near, especially during this winter cold. you make kento feel at peace with your calm aura. the way you speak so tenderly and kindly. as he turns his attention back to a blabbering gojo, he finds himself growing jealous of whoever received your gift. whoever it is, he hopes that they appreciate your thoughtfulness.

after the rules are done, everything is exchanged between assigned pairs as gojo calls up who was responsible form who.

elation courses through nanami’s veins once he learns that his secret santa was you —  happy to know that he is about to be on the receiving end of your perfectly wrapped presents. 

“i hope you like them,” you bleat shyly, passing him the leopard print-covered gifts. the very sight makes him grin, since the paper matches his usual work tie.  

the blonde takes his time unwrapping each layer of paper — as if he doesn’t want to ruin all the hard work you put into presenting this perfectly for him. a strong wave of fondness crashes over your co-worker once the first present is revealed. nanami’s favourite, freshly baked sandwich from the japanese bakery downtown. the one he visits every day, and the same sandwich he orders every time. the one that fills him with nostalgia and reminds him of home. 

the next gift is even more thoughtful, and he fights off the urge to clutch his chest — as if cupid has shot an arrow right through his heart and made it yearn for you and your kindness. it’s a crocheted water lily, like those found in the Taman Gelora park in Malaysia. the same park that nanami has always wanted to go to. 

there’s a little postcard of the location too — with a note scribbled in your precise handwriting, wishing nanami a happy christmas. he tries not to dwell on the heart signed next to your name.

your saccharine voice slices through kento’s wild and appreciative thoughts delicately and he spares you a glance, watching your features as they illuminate with happiness from his reaction. you can tell that he likes your gift, and that fills you both with joy. “i heard from a little bird that you’ve always wanted to take a trip to Kuantan. and while i couldn’t get you a ticket myself, i figured these would be the next best thing. plus some food for your flight.” you joke while nanami thumbs the ridges of the yarn making up his water lily gift. 

he laughs then, remembering how yuuji had grilled him about his dream vacation weeks back. it must have been for you. 

you’re so selfless and thoughtful, it still blows the blonde office man’s mind that you would have gone through the trouble of getting him such a gift. most times, colleagues at Gojo Corp settle for fancy chocolates or snooty vouchers for department stores… but you used so much of your own time and effort to create something that kento nanami would truly appreciate. it drives him mad that he can’t seem to figure out why. why would you do something so nice for him? 

“i wish i could have gotten you something in return.” he mumbles fondly.

“i don’t need anything from you kento,” you say sweetly, making his heart race as you put your hand over his. “i appreciate you and you’re my friend. i don’t need anything more.” you figure now is a bad time to confess to him, in front of everyone. though you might have chosen the wrong words — because while you do want more from nanami, he now thinks that you don’t, pulling away from you slightly. “i… i appreciate everything you do for the company. a-and i like spending time with you. being your friend.” 

you facepalm internally, knowing you could have worded yourself better — but the realisation comes a little too late, for nanami is already pulling away from you, his once soft smile falling into place with the harsh lines of a frown. “thank you for the gifts,” he says, a little colder. now that he’s figured out why you truly made him those gifts. you see nanami as a friend, a good one. nothing more, like he had secretly hoped. “i must be getting back to work.” 

“o-oh but kento—“ he looks down at you icily, you have no idea why he’s being so cold. he hasn’t a clue either, it’s not like you know of his affections or fondness towards you. you thought that calling yourselves  friends would be just fine… at least until you found the confidence to confess properly. “nanami…did i offend you? i didn’t mean to pry with your gifts! i just wanted them to be perfect—“

“—you’re fine. just… duty calls. paperwork.” 

“oh, right.” you reply, weak and defeated, thinking that he’s mad at you. rejecting you again. “good luck nanami…”

“thanks,” he mumbles. “for this, and the gift.” 

“you’re welcome,” you say, mostly to yourself but before you can say more he’s disappeared from the conference room and gone back to his cubicle. 

ATTEMPT #THREE - THE EVE OF CHRISTMAS.

as mentioned before, your boss isn’t exactly the serious type.

satoru gojo is silly and often irresponsible in regards to work. he’s had a lot to deal with and a lot to learn, he covers his mistakes with charms and smiles, but he’s learning. and when it comes down to it, satoru cares for the company, the office and most importantly —  his staff.

which is why he makes it a rule that no one in his main team should work over the christmas period — with no exceptions. 

of course, the ever-dedicated kento nanami has always found a loop-hole in avoiding the festive rule and his manager’s simple christmas wish. which is why, much to your chargin, satoru has meddled a little bit and sent you into the office to send nanami home. usually you wouldn’t mind the opportunity to speak with your crush, but after your second rejection from him in such a short space of time, you’re not so sure your little heart can take seeing the man before the holidays. 

you’d agreed to satoru’s request nonetheless, your family didn't arrive until tomorrow and you couldn’t live with yourself if you let kento work through the night. you still had feelings for him after all. 

when you arrive at your office, it’s dark and dim — matching the evening and it’s weather outside. you assume that any cleaning staff have already gone home, instructed by nanami who would also hate to keep people behind on Christmas Eve. it seems like him to offer to clean up after himself.

rounding the corner, you spot him in the conference room, tucked away by the tree from your christmas party as he taps away at his work laptop — no doubt finishing the Q3 report. you push past the glass door and make your way inside, tugging your scarf, hat and coat off while you watch nanami work. you hang them all up on a nearby coat rack.

“i know you’re there,” he speaks into the dark silence. “is that you, satoru? i’m not going home.” 

“actually, satoru sent me in here to make sure you weren’t working on Christmas Eve.” you respond in an even tone, ignoring the slash of hurt over your heart when nanami fails to even spare you so much as a glance upon hearing your dulcet voice. 

he instead scoffs, returning to his work. “tell him that i’m fine. i don’t need to be babysat. i know when to take a break.” kento doesn’t why he’s being so harsh with you, it’s not like you knew of his feelings. calling him your friend had been a token of kindness, but he let his rationality slip away and acted out because… what? he was afraid of your rejection?

despite his mean words, you stand your ground and refuse to leave kento alone. “i figured you might say that, so i bought you some food. these are cookies from the bakery that you like and they should keep you going,” you rummage in your tote for a small of cookies — pushing them across the large conference table for your stubborn blond co-worker. “the girl that works there is sweet. maybe we should go sometime, we can take a break from your work and have some cold turkey sandwiches ahead of Christmas Day—“

“if i wanted sweets i would have called up that meddling boss of ours, satoru,” nanami seethes, losing his patience. the more he looks at you, those big brown eyes and your soft, beautiful face, the more hurt he feels, the more nauseated he feels knowing that you might not like him the way he likes you. as  just friends, instead of something more. “why are you here?” 

you blink back your suprise. “w-what?” 

“don’t you have family to be spending the night with?”

“i do it’s just… i worry about you, nanami. you work too hard, it’s christmas.” 

“i really, really would like to finish the report so i can go home.” 

your face scrunches up with rage and using that same fury, you march over the blonde man in three short strides — grabbing his chair and whirling him around to face you. you slam his laptop closed with enough power to shatter the damn thing, fixing nanami to look at you. ”what is wrong with you?” 

“pardon?” 

“i’ve… i’ve been trying all month to show you how much..how much i care about you and how much i like you. but it’s like you don’t even see me.” your voice warbles despite how angry you are, tears threatening to spill over the edge of your lashes. everything hurts, you don’t know what you’ve done to make nanami resent you in the way that he does now. perhaps if you were different, more confident and self assured maybe he would notice your gestures and implications. maybe he would like you back.

you wish for the darkness of the office to swallow you whole and make you disappear as you and nanami do nothing but stare blankly at each other. however, the lights on the obnoxious christmas tree continue to flash in the corner — illuminating the crystal tears clumped in your lashes and the slope of your features with a perfect golden glow. nanami sees you, he always has…but what good would a man like him be to a girl like you? sure, he wants to settle down, wants christmas with someone he loves, somewhere comfortable where he doesn’t have to worry about a thing — let alone money.

…but nanami is a tough nut to crack, he keeps to himself so much that even now you’re struggling hard to get him to speak his truth, and his feelings. he wouldn’t want you to give up trying even while he struggles to open up. 

“i see you.” finally, kento finds his confidence and admits his truth to you. “i always have.” 

he stands from his seat, towering over you and you stumble back. “do you? i’ve tried so hard… to tell you…”

the blonde leans down to your height and your words trail off, overwhelmed by him. “to tell me what?” 

he prays that you can’t hear the pound of his heart against his ribcage or the blood rushing through his ears… but nanami has never stepped out of line or taken a risk and if he doesn’t, break the rules, he could risk losing the one good thing at this god forsaken place. “that i… that i like you. kento. i-i’m fond of you.” you exhale through your words, succumbing to everything that makes up kento nanami. his scent, gingerbread and fresh mint, makes you dizzy, his proximity makes your world tilt on its axis and you’re so nervous that you latch onto the collar of his dark blue dress shirt to keep yourself steady. 

nanami seizes the opportunity to pour into you every emotion that he can’t bring himself to say. his large hands settle gingerly on the small of your back and his warm breath coasts over your fleshly lower lip, as if to ask for permission to kiss you properly. “may i?” comes his timbre voice, equality as shaky as yours had been earlier. you shake your head ‘yes’, giving nanami your consent to press his lips against your own in a life changing kiss. the action is tender, guiding you in all of the right places where you lack experience. the fists you'd formed in the collar of his shirt loosen the more that nanami works your lips in his gentle kiss — warming the frost over your little heart. 

“i’m quite fond of you too,” he says your name after finally giving you the room that you need to breathe and kento brushes a thumb over your the swell bottom lip before he kisses you gently again. “i’m sorry i didn’t say so earlier.” 

still holding onto him, a breathy chuckle escapes you as if you’re in shock. “w-what…what changed your mind? i thought you didn’t like me like that…”

“it wasn’t my mind that needed changing. it was the way i saw how you felt about me… i should have asked instead of assuming you only saw me as a friend. that was my mistake,” nanami explains carefully, choosing his words wisely. “you’ve been fair and kind to me, and i failed to give you the same grace due to my own doubts. i admire you, and should have confessed to you sooner but i—“ 

“but you wanted to finish working first, i get it.” you giggle and lean up to peck kento on the lips, stealing the words right out of his mouth. “just… please talk to me next time. i thought you were mad at me.” 

your blonde co-worker, crush and now.. partner? (that was to be decided) gives your waist an apologetic squeeze — acknowledging his mistakes. “i owe you that much,” he replies warmly, “now how about those turkey sandwiches you were talking about?” nanami questions you awkwardly, in his own charming way of asking you out for a date on christmas eve. 

after packing up and like a gentleman, he retrieves your scarf, hat and coat from the nearby coat rack by the door and gently pulls them over you one by one. like he cares, like he might even love you. he even zips you up to protect your cheeks from the bitter cold. nanami folds his own coat over the bend of his and grasps your hand firmly in his — keeping you close as you walk out of the office, a newly formed christmas couple. 

somewhere off in the distance, the boss of the Gojo Corp office watches with a sly grin. while satoru might not have gotten his holiday romance, he’s glad his little plan was enough to get yourself and nanami together. 

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Ten Days of Ex-Mas (M) (Pt. 2)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Genre:  Holiday / Second Chance!AU / Hockey!AU

Pairing: Jimin / Reader (F)

Synopsis: Three months following the worst break-up of your life, you finally feel ready to start moving on. The world, it seems, has other ideas when you pick up the phone and find your ex-boyfriend calling.

Jimin Park, star right winger of the NHL and (until recently), the love of your life, has a very large problem. Despite the courage he regularly shows on the ice, in his personal life, Jimin is kind of a coward. When you broke up this fall, he could barely admit it. Not to his neighbors. Not to his friends. Not even to his family, who are expecting him home for Christmas. In a desperate plea for more time, Jimin begs you to pretend you’re still dating – and to his surprise, you agree. Faced with a second chance, Jimin is determined not to squander it. If only fixing a relationship were as easy as falling in love.

Word Count: 44,416 (19K in part 2)

Author’s Note: Part of the Jingle All the Way collaboration with @leahsfavefics, @kithtaehyung, @yoonia, @cybrsan, and @sugaurora! Unfortunately, due to the new Tumblr text post limitations, this has to be published as multiple parts. THIS IS NOT THE START OF THE STORY. Please read Part 1 first, here.

Rating: 18+

NSFW Warnings: oral (F), multiple orgasms (F), fingering, sex in a semi-public area (brief), breast play, spanking, masturbation (M, F), dirty talk, mention of toys

A/N: all collab fics incorporate the phrase, "the holidays aren't so bad with you around."

A/N: This is not part 1. Read part 1 here.

“Jimin!” Hana cries, plowing into his legs. “Y/N! We’re skates!”

Lifting your brows, you crouch to boop her red pom-pom hat. “Of course, you are!” you say. When Hana runs off, you stand and lean closer. “Do you think she meant they have skates, or that we’re pretending to be them?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Jimin chuckles, taking your hand to cross the street.

You seem surprised but continue, falling into step alongside him. If pressed, Jimin could say he’s holding your hand because you’re around his family but truthfully, that’s not why. He’s holding your hand because he hasn’t touched you for twelve hours, crumbling something vital deep in his chest.

Jimin’s mom waves you over to where they’ve occupied several benches. “Welcome,” she says, gesturing to the group. “The girls picked out skates for everyone – correct sizes, of course.”

Stifling a laugh, Jimin looks at the skates. Of course, the twins picked them out since they’ve chosen only the most ridiculous concepts. Each year, a main Garland attraction is the infamous holiday ice skates. Imagine a Christmas staple, and there’s an ice skate for it. Snowmen skates wait for Jimin, complete with tiny carrot noses.

“How did you know my favorites,” you gasp, bending to reach for your candy cane skates.

“Cuz we’re smart!” Ari yells, wriggling free of Hoseok’s arms.

Jisoo grabs her by the waist, picking her up to sit down on a bench. Jimin takes you by the hand again, leading you to a semi-secluded bench. Glancing over your shoulder, you watch as he drags you away from his family.

“Sit,” Jimin demands, and your eyes widen.

Somewhat flustered, you obey. “Jimin,” you hiss when he kneels before you. “No one is watching us. You don’t have to…”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t have to do anything, Y/N.”

You fall silent when he begins unlacing your boots, setting them aside on the cold ground. Jimin doesn’t miss the way you shiver when his hand curls around your ankle, nor the look on your face when he scoots even closer.

“Jimin…”

Flashing a wicked smile, he looks up. “Yes?”

A lump moves in your throat when you swallow. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Brows lifted, Jimin leans forward, pressing his shoulder against your inner knee. He begins tying the laces, taking his time to savor the closeness. By the time he’s finished, you’re glowering darkly.

“Up,” you demand, switching places.

Jimin shouldn’t be turned on by how easily you walk in skates, nor by the bossy edge to your voice as you kneel.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask, your gaze burning. Placing both hands on his knees, you lean forward. “To tease me?”

“Tease you?” Jimin looks you up and down. “Right now, I feel like the victim here.”

Pushing yourself to stand, you nudge him with your foot. “You can put on your own skates, Park. Last I checked, you got paid to do this for a living.”

“Usually, they pay me to play in the skates. Not just look pretty.”

Your lips tilt. “Are you calling yourself pretty?”

Wordless, Jimin tosses his hair as he stands from the bench. Eyes wide, you realize your gaze drops to his skates, already tied. Leaning in, Jimin brushes your arm with his palm.

“That depends,” he says lowly. “What do you think?”

Your gaze focuses on him. “Your looks haven’t changed that much since September, Park.”

His eyes darken. “Stop calling me that.”

“What – Park?”

Brows lowered, Jimin steps closer. “You sound like you’re about to scold me.”

You snort. “Scold you? Who do you think I am?”

“Stop changing the subject.”

“What even is the subject?”

“What about my looks has changed since September?”

You pause to survey him. “You… well. Your hair,” you admit.

Uncertain, Jimin reaches up to touch it. “My hair?”

“Yeah.” You nod, transfixed by his fingers. “It’s longer. It–” Cutting yourself off, your lips press together. “It looks nice, that’s all.”

Jimin hovers a second, wishing you’d continue but the moment is interrupted by your names being called. Turning his head, he spots Jisoo and Hoseok stepping onto the ice. Hoseok has both of Ari’s hands, while Jisoo has Hana.

Heart dropping, Jimin pieces two and two together. When you arrived on Thursday, the oddest expression crossed over your face at the twins. And later, while making cookies, you often were silent. Jimin chalked this up to the strangeness of your arrangement, but only now realizes the full implication. Ari and Hana must remind you of the false pregnancy, and the events which came after.

On instinct, Jimin takes your hand again. You glance down, surprised, but Jimin is already walking, pulling you with.

Although you stumble a little, you follow. “How do you walk in these things every day?” you demand, gesturing vaguely.

“We usually wear them on ice, not the sidewalk.”

“Hilarious.”

Arriving at the rink, Jimin removes his skate guards and holds out a hand. Handing them off to his mom, Jimin opens the gate to step onto the ice.

For a moment, the world fades. This is the reason he plummeted when he wasn’t sure if he could skate again. This feeling, this rush of freedom – Jimin has felt it on the ice ever since he can remember. Your hand is grounding, keeping him steady through the inner turmoil. Taking a deep breath, Jimin pushes off on one skate to bring you with.

Across the rink, Hoseok and Jisoo lead their daughters around. Seeing them, Jimin can’t help but smile. Jisoo was raised on the rink and can skate circles around most of their friend group.

“They’re so cute,” you sigh, following his gaze.

“Who? Jisoo and Hoseok?”

“I mean, sure,” you laugh, eyes crinkling. “But I was talking about Hana and Ari. No matter what your dad says, Hana is definitely going pro.”

Jimin sees a moment of realization cross your face. A few months ago, the idea of his dad disapproving would have crippled him. Now, Jimin feels sad, but he knows he’ll get through it.

Tightening his grip, he moves closer. “Want to know a secret?” Jimin says, skating backwards to face you. Both your hands end in his, letting him pull you.

“Obviously.”

Jimin grins, spinning you in a circle. “I got her lessons for Christmas with my old teacher. Just for fun, but I think she’ll enjoy it.”

“She absolutely will,” you say, smiling so wide, Jimin’s heart hurts. “Speaking of…”

Turning his head, Jimin spots Hoseok skate past with Ari. They wave as they go, Ari’s scarf flapping in the wind.

“So slow!” Hoseok calls, as Ari laughs. “Seems like that NHL thing really was a fluke, Park…”

Jimin’s brows lower, enough that you laugh and let go of his hand. “Go on,” you tease, skating backwards. “Catch up to them.”

His gaze lingers on you as you leave, watching you glide across the rink with ease. Turning around, you weave between patrons as the ends of your scarf flutter behind you. Jimin remembers the first time he brought you home for the holidays. Until then, you’d given him nothing but a hard time with his hockey fame. Pretending not to know the rules, the players or even the sport – although he often caught you Googling what certain terms meant.

The first time you came home, Jimin’s parents were the ones who suggested ice skating. Jimin was hesitant, thinking you didn’t know how, but once you stepped onto the rink, his jaw dropped. Although you aren’t a professional, you took lessons as a kid and somehow maintained your graceful ease. Somewhat embarrassingly, that was the morning he caved and broke his no-sex-in-the-childhood-home rule.

Body tightening, Jimin locks in on you as you skate away. Similar to seeing you wearing a new cosplay, watching you skate circles is enough to draw blood to a very specific part of his body. Pushing off with one foot, Jimin starts slowly around the edge of the rink. Several heads turn, but he ignores them entirely. Glancing over your shoulder, you notice him watching and laugh, purposefully crouching to gain momentum.

Lips twitching, Jimin adopts a similar stance and goes faster. He barely outpaces his slowest round at practice, but that’s fine. To everyone else, Jimin is practically flying. As one of the shortest players in the NHL, Jimin makes up for what he lacks in stride with his speed. Offensive positions require agility, something which happens to be his main strength. Wind cuts his face as Jimin makes a turn that would send lesser skaters sprawling.

Leisurely, he approaches you from the opposite side. Glancing over your shoulder, you frown, losing visibility.

“Gotcha,” Jimin says, grabbing around your waist to speak in your ear.

You yelp, twisting around to avoid tangling skates. “No fair,” you laugh, still in his arms. “You’re a professional. You cheated!”

“Which one is it, princess?” he teases, prompting a startled breath.

Licking your lower lip, you glance sideways and Jimin feels his body lock. Continuing to skate with his arms wrapped around you, he can barely decipher his train of thought. You face forward quickly, but not fast enough – Jimin knows that look. Your pupils are dilated, eyes wide with lips slightly parted. That look connects with his lower half in a way that makes skating distinctly uncomfortable.

“You can’t call me that,” you say under your breath.

Despite this, your hand tightens in his, not letting him go.

Jimin leans closer. “Call you what?”

“Any name other than the one chosen at birth.”

“Oh, I see. So, if I say Y/N.” Jimin dips his tone. “That’s fine?”

He feels your shiver, sliding his thumb along the side of your palm, and–

“Y/N!”

You start, jerking upright when Hana skates by holding onto Jisoo. Jimin falls behind you, somewhat embarrassed he let things go so far. As much as he wants to call you princess and get you to admit that you want him – he wants more than simply desire. Something like that happening would only muddy the waters.

Ari skates past as well, begging you to join, which you do with a dutiful nod. Jimin watches you go, skating to the edge of the rink and stepping outside. Pulling on guards, he clomps towards the hot chocolate stand to buy you a cup. While he waits, a familiar hat sidles up alongside him.

“Hi, mom,” he says, smiling downward.

Jimin’s mom wraps an arm around his waist and squeezes. A lump forms in Jimin’s throat, one he manages to swallow. The past year has been hard, forcing tough conversations to be held over the phone. Worse than losing his health, Jimin felt that he lost the support of his family.

“You two looked good out there,” his mom says, moving up in line.

Jimin lifts a brow. His mom never says something she doesn’t mean – a fact that he envies. Bringing your relationship up means she has something to say.

“Thanks,” he says, waiting for the rest.

“I hope we didn’t make you or Y/N uncomfortable last night. You know the last thing your father and I want is to pressure you.”

Shaking his head, Jimin moves forward. “You didn’t – don’t worry.”

“Mm.” Her lips thin. “What were you doing, going out late with Hoseok?”

Jimin’s eyes widen. Shit. Exactly like his mom, to lead with something soft, then go for the kill. A hockey strategy Jimin has employed often, with great success.

“We… I, uh…”

His mom pats him on the arm. “Every couple has their difficulties, Jimin. I’m not going to pretend every obstacle is surmountable – only you can decide that – but running away will solve nothing.”

Stunned by her accuracy, Jimin shakes his head. “I thought she wanted space,” he admits. This much, at least, is true.

“Space is good,” she agrees. “But only when asked for.”

The couple before them in line finishes paying and leaves. Somewhat dazed, Jimin moves up and orders three hot chocolates. Stepping aside to wait, Jimin turns to face his mom.

“That’s good advice,” he says slowly.

“I know.” She smiles. “That wasn’t what I wanted to talk about, though.”

Jimin lifts a brow. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

She laughs. “No,” she admits, linking arms. “I wanted to check in on you, dear. You’ve seemed a little… well, off lately. It’s been a while since we last talked.”

Jimin can hear her concern, the utmost care she’s taking in having this conversation. His heart aches, knowing she must have rehearsed this talk often. Truthfully, Jimin didn’t mean to pull away from his family. It became almost second nature to avoid having an argument.

“Well,” Jimin says. “This season has been tough. I wasn’t sure how it’d be… being back on the ice. And I didn’t think you or dad would want to hear about that.”

Gripping his elbow, his mom turns him to face her. Her gaze has turned serious, an indent between her brows. “Jimin. I always want to hear about your day. Okay?”

He blinks several times.

“I’m sorry,” she exhales. “I know I wasn’t… I was scared, seeing you so badly injured last year.”

Jimin presses his lips together. “I know.”

“But,” she adds, fierce light to her gaze. “That’s not an excuse for making you feel this way. Your career will always scare us, Jimin.” She holds up a hand at the look on his face. “No, I want to be truthful. Your career will always scare us, but darling, I’ve watched you skate since you were three years old. I see your face on the ice. I’m sorry for asking you to give that up. It was selfish.”

Something rent apart mends in his chest. Before Jimin can respond, three hot chocolates are placed on the counter. Smiling, his mom accepts one and hands him the rest.

“Don’t feel like you have to say anything back,” she chides, guiding him towards the rink. “I only wanted to make sure you knew.”

“No – no.” Jimin shakes his head. “I’m trying more often to express how I feel. Mom… the way you and dad acted hurt me. For a while, it felt like everyone in the world was against me, and I didn’t know how to convince them. Or myself.”

His mom blinks several times. “I understand that,” she says quietly. “And I’m sorry, dear. I’m here for you, whatever you decide – I promise.”

“And dad?”

Lips twisting, she glances across the rink, where his dad sits on a bench. Not skating, simply watching Hana and Ari be towed around. Seeing this, Jimin understands what she means. His dad still has a long way to go.

“It’s okay, mom,” he murmurs.

She frowns. “No, it’s not. But he’ll come around, Jimin – I know it.”

“Yeah.” Releasing his breath, Jimin looks across the rink and catches your eye.

You grin widely, hand in hand with Ari as Jimin smiles. Something Dr. Nygard once said comes to mind. He told Jimin it was normal to want the attention of others, but it wasn’t healthy to shape one’s entire reality from it. For a long time, Jimin only believed he was good if other people said so. Only thought he could want something when other people agreed.

The moment you asked if you could take a break, all Jimin heard was you didn’t want him. Rather than stay and fight for what he believed in, he left and now, it’s up to him to convince you things are different. Being without you cast things in perspective. No – Jimin doesn’t need your approval to live the life he wants.

But the life he wants to live has you in it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t bring pain meds this weekend,” you huff, digging around in the endless void you call a purse.

Sheepish, Jimin shrugs. “My tailbone felt better. And then, I don’t know… sitting for hours on a flight didn’t help.”

Stunned, you glance upward. “You’ve been hurt since the flight, Jimin?” you ask, failing to keep your anger in check. “Why are you only telling me now?”

Amused, he crosses both arms. “Y/N,” Jimin tsks. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you cared.”

Simultaneously annoyed and aroused, your gaze darts towards your purse. Yanking free a bottle of ibuprofen, you shake out two pills. “Here,” you insist, thrusting them forward. “Take these and be quiet.”

Partly, your dismay stems from this being your fault. Jimin mentioned he was injured outside the house, but you were too mad to hear and made him sleep on the couch. And now, you’ll be the reason for Chicago’s losing streak. You can already hear the disparaging Twitter comments.

“Be quiet.” Jimin accepts the pills to throw them back, dry. “Thanks, Y/N.”

You stare, horrified. “That’s disgusting.”

“You get used to it.”

“Nope,” you say as you turn away. “I don’t think I would.”

Jimin chuckles from behind, catching up when you push open the door to the shop. Once everyone had their fill of ice-skating, you went with Jimin’s family to a lovely place for lunch. Afterwards, everyone broke into pairs for late Christmas shopping. It seems everyone is missing one gift or another, resulting in a need for covert alliances. Jisoo went off with her mom, while Hoseok went off with their dad and the twins.

The fact that you ended up alone with Jimin hasn’t escaped you. Briefly, you wondered if Jimin’s mom was behind this to give you some privacy but banished the notion. If this were the case, she likely would have just said so. The thought makes your face heat as you enter the shop.

Things today have been… different when it comes to Jimin. First, there was his apology in the car and then, the whole skate-tying incident. Merely the memory makes you shiver, recalling the feel of his hand on your ankle. Not to mention his cryptic phrasing, insisting he should have stayed – last night. Or possibly more.

Frustrated, you glance around the stationary shop. For once, you wish Jimin would just say what he means. Then again, you suppose two can play at that game. You weren’t exactly honest when you asked for a break.

Covertly, you glance sideways and find Jimin’s cheeks reddened. Infuriatingly, he looks even better than the day before. Darkly, you wonder if he sold his soul to a witch or is involved in some sort of Dorian Gray situation.

Turning around, Jimin catches you staring. “What are you thinking?” he asks, moving closer.

Rather than fan his ego, you ask something that’s been bothering you the past hour. “I saw you talking to your mom at the hot chocolate stand. What was that about?”

Jimin stiffens slightly, and you stifle a sigh.

Six months prior, Jimin would have brushed aside the question. In the spring, when his arguments with his dad were at their worst, you tried to distract him, but nothing succeeded. Jimin didn’t want to talk about anything, but in every conversation, his mind was elsewhere. You shouldn’t be surprised this is still true but somehow, you hoped.

“Hockey,” Jimin answers, and your face jerks up. “My mom said she was always going to worry about me playing, but she apologized for asking me to give it up. I think…” He pauses. “She may have been giving me her blessing to re-sign? Not that I need it,” he adds, a bit thoughtful.

“Jimin,” you gasp. “That’s amazing!”

“I know, right?” He smiles. “There’s still my dad, but it means so much to me that she said that. And… I mean, I can’t wait around for them to approve of everything, can I? I need to do what’s best for myself.”

Slowly, you nod. “You do.”

He meets your gaze. “I wanted to thank you, actually.”

“Thank me?”

“Yeah. You told me that, and I didn’t agree. I just… I wasn’t ready to hear it. In a way, when you left, it forced me to examine some hard truths about myself.”

Again, your heart sinks. You’re glad Jimin has his therapist and they’re helping to change his outlook. On the other hand, it sounds as though your leaving was an uptick in his life.

“Ah,” you say faintly. “I see.”

Jimin cocks his head. “When you said you wanted a break, all I heard was that the last person to believe in me no longer did. I know that’s not fair,” he adds, seeing your face. “But that’s how I felt. It was easier to fall, to hit rock bottom… than to pull myself out.”

You consider this – and him – for a long moment. In September, you really weren’t in a position to listen. The rapid elation and depression of thinking you were pregnant, coupled with fear from a year of anxiety, resulted in a potentially harmful reaction. Jimin deserved more than what you gave.

“I shouldn’t have come to you like that,” you say quietly. “It wasn’t fair of me to just… spring that on you without explanation. I should have asked you to talk. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you, thinking I wouldn’t listen.”

“Maybe,” you say. “If I could go back though, I’d do things differently.”

“Me, too.”

For a while, you stand there and let the words sink in. Frequently since the break-up, you imagined what it would be like to see Jimin again. You wondered if he’d be angry, whether he’d ignore you or cast blame for what happened. Rarely did you imagine he’d apologize, or that he’d taken steps to address what happened this fall.

And maybe that was another mistake you both made – assuming the other person couldn’t change or wouldn’t want to.

Then, another thought occurs that makes your heart sink. Jimin’s mom is fine with him extending his contract. The entire reason you came here was to lessen the difficulty of two pieces of bad news at once. With one in the open, it’s not necessary to continue the charade.

For a moment, you debate whether to say something and instead, you turn smoothly and pluck a card from the pile.

“Look at this one,” you say, holding it up to the light. “Do you think Ari would like it?”

Glancing at this, Jimin tilts his head. The card is covered in glitter, to the point where the pictures and words are rendered obsolete.

“I think it’s perfect,” he says with a laugh. “Look, there’s another glitter one for Hana.”

Selecting them both, you head for the cashier. Jimin diverts to check out a large stack of board games in the back for his uncle.

“You check out,” he says, waving you onward. “I’ll meet you at the register in a minute.”

“All right,” you say, turning away.

Bypassing the colorful pens near the register, you place both cards on the counter. “Can I have a bag?” you ask as they ring you up.

The cashier nods, setting to work and you drum your finger against the counter. Outside, it’s started snowing. You can’t help but smile since it never seems to stop snowing in Garland for long. Hopefully, everything will clear up for tomorrow’s Christmas Eve party. Jimin’s family never misses, barring illness or high water.

Behind you, the bells above the door chime.

“Y/N?” A familiar – deeply grating – makes you go stiff. “Is that you? Oh my gosh!”

Smile frozen, you slowly turn. Vivian Wu shuts the door with one hand, casually unwinding a red scarf from her neck. Her hair is luscious and sleek, billowing over her perfect pea coat. When she walks towards the register, you notice cashmere gloves and boots that seem untouched by the salt on the roads.

Continuing to force a smile, you nod. “Hi, Vivian,” you say. “Yep, it’s me. Y/N.”

Coming to a stop, Vivian tilts her head. As the daughter of the former mayor and a politician herself, she’s practically royalty in a small town like Garland. Vivian also happens to be Jimin’s ex-girlfriend, dating him for three years in high school before they broke up when he was drafted. A fact Vivian never really accepted.

Her smile turns simpering. “How nice to see you,” she says, her tone suggesting the opposite. “Are you visiting the Parks for the holidays?”

You nod, suddenly glad for the charade. “Jimin and I are only here for a few days, unfortunately. Are you attending the Christmas Eve party tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. The Parks are such a wonderful family. It’s a shame you only get to see them once a year.”

Although your stomach twists, you remind yourself it’s not worth it. Vivian only acts this way because she’s not dating Jimin – but then again, neither are you. Your heart sinks, realizing you might be looking at your future. Vivian will be thrilled to discover you’re no longer together. You never learned why she disliked you, only that she’s the only other girl Jimin dated seriously.

Your very first visit, you were introduced to her at the Christmas Eve party. Jimin warned you his ex-girlfriend would be there but failed to mention how beautiful – and vindictive – she was. Apparently, the break-up was Jimin’s idea and Vivian loathed having a total loss of control.

That night ended in a harried fight between you and Jimin, becoming the first time he ever said he loved you. Remembering that night, you can’t help but smile – a gesture that widens when Vivian scowls.

“It’s a shame,” you sigh. “I’m sure they appreciate having you looking out for them, though.”

Vivian sniffs, unable to find the insult. “Of course. Anything for Jimin. Speaking of” – she leans in, her Chanel perfume tickling your nose – “I’ve been watching his games and haven’t seen you lately? Is everything okay?”

You instantly stiffen. Despite what you told Jimin, you genuinely hadn’t thought many people would notice. Of course, Vivian did.

“No,” you say sweetly. “Just busy with work.”

“That’s a shame,” she says, her voice implying that, if it were her, Vivian would make herself available, no matter the cost.

You can’t help but bristle, though the scenario is moot. Neither of you are dating Jimin, so there’s nothing to compare. Still, even when you were together, Jimin never expected you to attend every game. That was his job, not yours, he would joke all the time. Both of you were adults with careers.

Tossing her hair, Vivian nods at your hand. “And I’m surprised, Y/N – no ring? Jisoo and Hoseok got engaged after what, two years? And you’ve been dating Jimin for…?”

“Four years,” you say stiffly.

“That’s right.” Her frown deepens. “Four.”

Your tongue is in danger of bleeding from how hard you bite. Vivian’s words have little to do with you, and more to do with the circumstances, but you can’t help but feel frustrated. And hurt.

Smoothly, an arm slides around your waist. “There you are,” murmurs Jimin, pulling you close. He brushes a kiss to your hair, glancing at Vivian. “You can blame that on me, Viv,” he says easily. “Haven’t found the perfect ring yet. None big enough. Or expensive enough.”

Your lips twitch. “Exactly,” you sigh, laying a hand on his chest. “He keeps proposing and I keep saying, ‘nope, try again.’”

Jimin chuckles, nuzzling into your hair. Vivian glances between you, looking vaguely nauseated. You can’t say you blame her.

“How nice,” she mutters.

“Anyways.” Glancing around, Jimin grabs your bag from the counter. “We really should get going. It was nice seeing you, Vivian.”

“You, too,” she huffs, brushing past to the board games.

As soon as she’s gone, your smile drops. “Thanks,” you exhale, slipping out from his arm. “I… well, I wasn’t sure what to say to her.”

Jimin catches you around the wrist.

You hesitate a long moment, then turn. Two days ago, the rules of the game were clear. No kissing with tongue. Jimin sleeps on the couch. And no need to pretend when no one else is around.

Gaze drifting upwards, you find yourself unable to decipher his expression. Slowly, Jimin pulls you closer to casually fix the scarf around your neck.

“Let’s head home, okay?” he murmurs.

You nod, not trusting yourself to respond to him with words. Outside, on the street, Jimin comes to a stop. Exhaling briskly, he turns sideways to face you.

“I just…”

Dropping your wrist, Jimin shoves a hand through his hair.

“Jimin, it’s okay,” you say, stepping closer. “I don’t blame how she acted – really. Being on the other side, like this…” Lamely, you shrug. “I guess I understand how Vivian feels. That’s all.”

Jimin stares at you, wide-eyed. You think that must be it, and attempt to walk past, but he grabs your wrist again.

“Y/N,” he says sternly. “You are nothing like Vivian. Okay?”

You blink, glancing down at his hand. That’s twice in two minutes he’s touched you like this. Gaze snapping upward, you frown.

“Am I?” you demand. Stepping closer, you stand nearly nose-to-nose. “We’re both your exes, Jimin. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt to watch you parade someone else around town. God, just thinking about you with someone else drives me crazy. I’d be an asshole to future me, too.”

Dipping his head, Jimin inhales. “That’s not going to happen,” he murmurs into your ear. “I wouldn’t be worried about that, if I were you.”

“What does that –”

“Y/N! JIMIN!”

Adorable interruptions seem to be your curse this weekend. Tiny arms crush your knees as, looking down, you find Hana grinning.

Bending, you scoop her onto one hip. “What’s this?” you gasp when she hands you a bag. “Did you buy me a Christmas present all by yourself?”

“Mhm,” she says proudly. “We got you new gloves to wear when you watch Uncle Jimin play.”

Hoseok groans as he arrives. “Girls, that was supposed to be a secret. Remember? Y/N was going to unwrap the gloves on Christmas.”

Ari frowns, tugging on Hoseok’s coat. “But then the present would tell her, not us.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jisoo and her mom walk up behind you.

“What’d we miss?” Jisoo asks, taking Hana.

“Hoseok was explaining the concept of presents,” says Jimin.

“Oh, good. Any success?”

“No,” Hoseok grumbles.

Everyone laughs, and Jimin’s dad flips his keys. “Are we all set?” he asks. “I thought I’d make hot chocolate back at the house.”

“Yeahhh!” yell the twins, immediately taking off.

Snow starts to fall as you leave the town square. More holiday music plays on the drive, and you find yourself dutifully humming along. Despite what you said, there are several noticeable differences between you and Vivian. You might both be his exes, but Jimin only asked one of you home for Christmas.

And only one of you has the opportunity now to make things right.

By Saturday evening, Jimin regrets asking Hoseok for help. He might mean well, but Jimin’s brother-in-law is the least covert person on the face of the planet. Indeed, he’s done more to detract from Jimin’s goal than to add to it. All day, he’s tried to create alone time for you and Jimin with mixed results.

At dinner, Hoseok leaves a chair open next to Jimin – only for Ari to claim it. Afterwards, the family gathers to watch a movie and once again, Hoseok tries to set him up on the sofa. Unfortunately, Hoseok miscounts, and Jisoo is forced to squish between Jimin and the armrest. Little romance can happen sandwiched between you and his sister.

That’s not to say no romance, though. Ever since the stationary store, you seem to have forgotten your rule about physical contact. While watching the Grinch, you curl into Jimin’s side, holding his hand under a mountain of blankets. Jimin strokes his thumb over the back of your hand, trying and failing not to let his mind wander.

He can’t stop thinking about you and Vivian, knowing the situation is his doing. When he broke up with Vivian, he did it over the phone and barely gave her answers to the questions she posed. He didn’t know how to admit that he wasn’t in love, so instead, he made excuses about distance and hockey. It’s no wonder Vivian hovers now, waiting for you to make any misstep.

The thought of you returning to an ex is enough to make Jimin go wild. His arm tenses on the sofa, despite knowing there’s no reason for him to be mad. Still, it’s all he can think about when the movie ends and you get ready for bed. Bringing his stuff down the hall, Jimin lets you use the bathroom within his room.

The door remains shut when he returns, so Jimin busies himself with making the couch comfortable. He’s debating adding a third pillow when the bathroom door opens, and you step outside.

Jimin nearly drops the holiday pillow he holds. Honestly, he should receive awards for his self-control this weekend. Once again, you’ve decided to clothe yourself – or not clothe yourself – in the skimpiest nightgown known to man. Pink lace skims your generous curves, something you seem oblivious of while crossing the room.

Jimin’s jaw clenches. “What time do you want to wake up tomorrow?”

Gaze skipping past him, you land on the sofa. “You’re not seriously planning on sleeping there?” you demand, folding your arms over your chest.

He forces himself not to stare at your delicious cleavage. “This feels like a trick question.”

“Jimin!” You throw up both hands. “You’re injured! I feel bad enough you had to take painkillers this morning.”

“Oh. Well, don’t feel bad,” Jimin says, bending for the pillow.

“Jimin!”

“What?” He half-laughs as he straightens. “There’s only one bed in this room, and my parents would know if you slept anywhere else. This is fine, Y/N.”

Chewing your lower lip, you glance down. “Unless…”

He waits. “Are you offering to sleep on the couch?”

Your gaze snaps upward. “No.”

A tinge of awareness spreads down his spine as Jimin slowly glances between you and the bed. “Are you…” Jimin hesitates, not wanting to break the fragile truce between you. “Are you offering to break rule number one?”

“Technically, you were the one who offered to sleep on the couch,” you point out. “All I said was we didn’t have to pretend while we were alone.”

“Y/N.”

“Alright, fine!” you huff. “I don’t want to sleep in the same bed. But I’m… retracting that rule, for the good of humanity. Only the bed part,” you warn, shifting your weight.

Seeing you slightly flustered wakes a sleeping beast in his chest. Jimin takes a step closer, realizing you’re not immune to his proximity.

“Are you sure?” he asks, coming to a stop. “I don’t want to take advantage of the situation. I can sleep on the couch, Y/N, and be fine. I promise.”

“Oh?” you scoff, turning around. “And have me be blamed for injuring the ‘best offensive player in the NHL?’ No thanks.”

Jimin stares at your retreating backside. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he says, slowly following you towards the bed. “Have you been watching my games on TV?”

Your fingers freeze on the comforter. “I… I’ve seen a few,” you say, evasive as you pull back the sheets. Slipping beneath the covers, you pointedly avoid eye contact.

Unable to contain his grin, Jimin folds his arms. He doesn’t miss the way your gaze darts towards his biceps, lingering longer than is strictly necessary.

“How many?” Jimin demands, moving closer.

Gaze snapping upward, you scowl. “Enough to know you’re doing disgustingly well. And that every person with half a brain has a poster telling you so on the other side of the glass.”

Coming to a stop, his brows sketch upwards. “You’ve seen the posters?”

Jimin has seen the posters but then again, he’s the one stepping onto the ice every night. Some of the content has been downright suggestive, which it seems you know from your perturbed expression. Jimin knows it isn’t healthy to savor your jealousy – on the other hand, he’ll take anything he can get when it comes to you. Jealousy implies there’s something to be jealous of.

“They’re creative,” you mutter. “I’ll give them that.”

Jimin’s grin widens. Crossing to the opposite side, he pulls back the covers. “I’ve kept track of you, too,” he admits as he joins you.

Startled, you turn over to face him. “You did?”

“Yeah.” Turning off the light, Jimin rolls sideways. “I liked your last outfit. Sundry Sydney?” he says with a snort. “The sticker was brilliant.”

“Some people thought it wasn’t slutty enough.”

“Sundry Sydney is more than a pleasure bot,” Jimin says, quoting you word for word. “She can do everything – or anything, as she later revises.”

You laugh, delighted. “You remember.”

“Of course.” Jimin softens. “I remember everything when it comes to you.”

In the moonlight, he watches your features change. Hesitance follows want in a way that makes his heart ache. Jimin did that. He put this space between you and, almost unthinking, he shifts closer.

“Sorry,” Jimin murmurs when his knee brushes your shin.

You blink. “It’s okay.”

Jimin is aware of each time you inhale, the rise and fall of your chest. The last time he slept next to you, he took it for granted. Now, he memorizes every single detail – your lashes on your cheeks, the weight of your body, the scent of your conditioner from across the pillow. If this is the last night Jimin can lie with you, he wants to remember.

Slowly, the sound of your breathing lulls his eyes shut.

Then next time they open, Jimin only feels heat. Warm, silken heat as he opens one eye and is immediately accosted by the sight of your bare shoulder. Stiffening, Jimin realizes his arm is draped over the curve of your waist. Your face nestles in his chest, fingers curled neatly into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Worse, your nightgown has ridden upward during the night, and Jimin can feel your bare thigh pressed to his. Exhaling softly, he tries to pull back. Under no circumstances can you wake and find him draped over you like the worst kind of leech. You let him sleep in the bed, not sleep with you, which is a crucial difference.

Unfortunately, his attempt at removing his arm only succeeds in rolling you closer. Jimin pauses, reevaluating as your curves press to his. When a mumbled sigh leaves your lips, he nearly gives up.

There’s only so much a person can be expected to ignore. Pressed to your soft skin, memories of past mornings come pouring back. If you were dating, Jimin would be figuring out ways to wake you up with his tongue. As it is, all he can do is close his eyes and pray for his hard-on to die.

“Jimin,” you mumble, pressing closer.

His eyes open. The movement brings your thighs flush together, and there’s no mistaking now, that was his name on your lips. Staring downward, Jimin wonders what you’re dreaming of, and whether or not he’s made an appearance.

Mumbling something, your eyes open. When your gazes connect, Jimin expects you to recoil, waits for the moment you realize where you are and withdraw.

Instead, you blink in a sleepy haze. Tentative, you move your hand higher and – Jimin holds his breath – lightly stroke your thumb down the center of his chest. Jimin hardly dares move as your gaze drops to his lips. Slowly – so, so slowly – you shift your hips forward and part your thighs.

Exhaling roughly, Jimin’s fingers find your thigh to drag over his waist. His hard cock fits snugly against your warm core.

“Oh,” you whimper.

Losing all sense of composure, Jimin tightens his grip and rolls his hips against you.

“Oh,” you moan, your head tipping back.

Dipping his chin, Jimin drags his nose up the heat of your throat. Open-mouthed, he ghosts over the place where your neck meets your collarbone. Panting, you roll your hips as his grip on you tightens. Each line of your body melts against his, driving him crazy.

Moving lower, Jimin brushes the silk hem of your nightgown. Your breath catches when his thumb slips beneath, drawing teasing circles against your inner thigh. One of your hands entwines in his hair, tugging in a way that makes him see red.

“Ah, fuck,” Jimin groans. Grasping your ass with both hands, he rolls on his back and brings you with.

Surprised, you land on top of him. “Jimin – oh,” you breathe when he thrusts upward, pressing his cock against your underwear.

Gaze somewhat hazy, you push yourself upright. Jimin moans at the sight of your thighs spilled to either side, your delicious breasts barely contained by the silk. Not looking away, keeping your hands on his chest, you slowly begin to move your hips. Jimin’s hands slide up to frame your waist, helping you get yourself off on his cock.

It won’t take long, he realizes with some shock. Whatever dream you had got you halfway, based on the way your thighs tremble above him. Lips parting, you moan his name and rock your hips faster. Gripping you tightly, Jimin thrusts upward. His fingers slip down your thighs, edging towards your center, when –

The doorbell rings downstairs.

Instantly, you freeze, your chest rising and falling. Jimin opens his mouth, but before he can utter a single word, you swing your leg off him.

“I – sorry,” you blurt, scooting to stand. “That… shouldn’t have happened.”

Jimin’s mouth shuts. No, probably not, but he also can’t bring himself to regret what just happened. Unlike you, it seems.

“I’m… just going to change,” you rush, practically fleeing into his bathroom. The door slams shut behind you, leaving Jimin alone in the bed.

Wearily, he collapses. “Fuck,” he mutters.

The shower turns on, and his imagination runs wild, replaying the past five minutes. Groaning, Jimin rolls over to stiffly stand. Yanking a sweater and jeans from his closet, he heads for the other bathroom to take care of himself. It barely takes a minute before he comes against the shower wall, chest heaving to stare at the water droplets.

With a clear head, Jimin can feel the full weight of dread in his chest. He moved too fast. Even with you instigating, Jimin shouldn’t have pushed things as far as they went. If he knows you at all – and Jimin thinks that he does – you’re probably freaking out in a separate shower. He needs to assure you as soon as possible that he wants this. Well, he wants you. Not just the physical parts.

Exhaling deeply, Jimin finishes showering and turns off the spray. Toweling himself dry, Jimin dresses as fast as he can to head downstairs. He’s nearly at the kitchen when a hand grasps his elbow, yanking him sideways and shoving him in the front closet.

Stumbling slightly, Jimin turns around and finds himself face-first with Hoseok. Flicking the light switch, Hoseok shuts the door and exhales.

Jimin looks past him. “What are you doing?” he asks, faintly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”

Shaking his head, Hoseok folds his arms across his chest. “No – definitely not. Your dad knows, man.”

“Knows what?”

“He knows,” Hoseok says with a pointed look. “He knows you’re planning to extend your hockey contract.”

Jimin’s heart sinks to the floor.

Coming to his senses, he shakes his head. “How?” Jimin demands. “How does my dad know?”

“Not sure.” Hoseok’s lips twist. “I think he went into town this morning, and some of his buddies told him. Apparently, news of the extension leaked online.”

Jimin is utterly still, already coming up with choice words for his agent. He knew this could happen, despite his request to keep this quiet. Sometimes teams leak the news to increase the pressure on players. Other times, another team in the league does it to spur a trade. Jimin hoped he’d have until the new year but apparently, the choice has been made for him.

“Well, fuck,” he mutters.

Hoseok just nods. “Yeah. I heard your mom and dad talking about it when I came downstairs.”

Jimin pauses, glancing at the door. “Have you just… been waiting out in the hall for me?”

“Yeah. I kept pretending to forget things in our room. Jisoo may or may not have caught on.”

“Great.” Jimin decides to push past this. “Did he… I mean, how did my dad seem?”

Hoseok frowns. “Quiet. I don’t know. He went into his office and didn’t come out until your mom started breakfast.”

Shit. Running a hand through his hair, Jimin exhales. “Alright,” he says. “Well, I guess there’s no point in putting things off.”

“Probably not.”

Nodding, Jimin turns to pull open the door and Hoseok’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Yeah?” Jimin asks, turning around.

“Just letting you know that I’m here for you,” Hoseok says, stepping into the hall. “I may be married to your sister, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.”

“Thanks, Hobi,” Jimin says quietly.

Squaring his shoulders, he follows him down the hall and into the kitchen. All voices cease. His mom’s spatula clatters against the bowl, and Jisoo falls silent at the kitchen table. Even you turn to face him, a mug of coffee in hand.

Jimin moves forward. “Hey,” he says tentatively. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Jimin!” says his mom, shooting a look at his dad.

Jimin’s dad pushes himself up from the table. “Jimin, can we talk?” he asks, gesturing towards the door. Based on his tone, this isn’t so much a request as a statement.

Although his stomach twists, Jimin manages a nod. “Sure, dad.”

He leaves the room, not looking behind to see if Jimin follows. Taking a deep breath, Jimin follows. When he nears the door, he feels a hand on his elbow. Gripping him tightly, you turn Jimin to face you.

“Hey,” you murmur. “Whatever your dad says – I’m here, okay? I believe in you, Jimin. No matter what.”

There’s steel to your voice, making him believe every word. No hint of weirdness from this morning remains, unraveling an unknown knot in his chest.

“Thank you,” Jimin rasps, gaining the strength to follow his dad.

The door to his dad’s study is as familiar as Jimin’s childhood, known as the only place off-limits to play in. Entering now, Jimin shuts the door and turns around.

His dad sits on the edge of his desk, hands clasped, and face lined. Jimin steps closer, about to plead his case but his dad holds up a hand.

“I think it’s best if I spoke first,” he says quietly.

Jimin stops, then nods.

Exhaling lowly, his dad drags a hand down his face. For the first time, Jimin notices moisture in the corners of his eyes when he looks up. “I heard this morning your contract is up for extension.”

Jimin decides honesty is best. “It is, yeah.”

His dad swallows, and then nods. “When my friends told me… I told them they must be mistaken. I said you would’ve said if that was true, and then they showed me the article…” Steadying himself, his dad continues. “I spent a lot of time this morning thinking about this past year.”

“Oh?” Jimin finds his voice. “What, specifically?”

His dad’s expression shifts. “Jimin, I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to create a relationship where you couldn’t tell me things. Of course, I don’t want you to get hurt on the ice” – his voice strengthens – “but I know you. I know my son, and you don’t start things you don’t finish. You worked hard this past year to prove everyone wrong – to prove me wrong, and I couldn’t be prouder.”

His voice breaks slightly and, hearing this, Jimin rushes forward. Pulling his dad into a tight hug, Jimin lets out a sigh that sounds more like a sob. They stay there like that, their first hug in nearly a year as Jimin slowly exhales.

For so long, he’s wanted to hear those words from his dad. They feel good, but oddly enough, it feels even better to know he didn’t need this. Jimin has worked hard this fall to divorce self-approval from others. It will always take effort to maintain, but progress has been made, and that makes Jimin happier than anything else.

Pulling back, Jimin’s dad smiles. “We can go back now,” he laughs. “I know your mother made waffles. I just wanted you to know how proud I am of you. And you can talk to me about the contract if you want. There’s no need to keep things from us any longer.”

“Thanks, dad,” Jimin says.

His dad nods once, pulling open the door to gesture at the hall. As Jimin follows him out, you’re the first person he thinks of. Your face, saying you’d support him no matter what. This morning when you sighed his name into his t-shirt. Jimin recalls all the seconds, minutes, days he wanted you by his side this fall and knows he needs to tell you what he wants.

Even if you break his heart, Jimin needs you to know that it’s yours.

Something has changed since this morning.

Well, obviously something has changed. You woke up with your body flush against Jimin, one of your thighs flung over his delicious ass. You nearly came just from dry humping him, already close from the dirty dream you were having – about Jimin, no less. Something has changed though, and that something is you – because you’re no longer concerned about what might happen. About what hurt might befall you if you confess and it fails.

You want Jimin. You love Jimin, you never stopped, and you need him to know that. You just have to figure out how.

That’s proving to be the hard part. Jimin returned with his dad at breakfast, looking relaxed for the first time all trip, and his mom immediately suggested wrapping the gifts. You helped the twins wrap all morning, glitter getting everywhere, and once lunch ended, you needed to get ready for the Christmas Eve party.

Trying to cut down on time, you got ready down the hall – which proved to be a mistake, since it meant you didn’t see Jimin until going downstairs. He went all out this year, and part of you wonders if he did it on purpose. His hair has been slicked, styled away from his face in a wholly devastating manner. He’s wearing a taupe suit he once wore for an interview, a dark turtleneck beneath hugging his pecs in a way that’s distracting.

You only drove two cars tonight, and somehow you ended up in a van with Jimin and his parents. Not that you mind their company – you love Jimin’s parents, but his outfit is rated NC-17. For twenty minutes, you’re forced to sit next to Jimin and not say how good he looks in that suit.

Even at the party, your attention is immediately monopolized by neighbors and friends. Forcing a smile, you nod at the appropriate times in conversation, but your attention is elsewhere. It’s not anyone’s fault, but they just can’t compete with your ex-boyfriend. Slash pretend boyfriend. Slash man you want to be your boyfriend.

An hour into the party, you excuse yourself for the bathroom, shutting yourself in a stall to lower the lid and sit down. From there, you pull out your phone and scroll through the texts.

Namjoon: you did WHAT?! [7:14 PM]

Yoongi: they dry humped, Namjoon [7:16 PM]

Namjoon: Yes, I ‘m aware – my exclamation was one of shock, not confusion [7:17 PM]

Namjoon: what does this mean?? [7:17 PM]

Yoongi: Isn’t it obvious? They’re getting back together. Why else would she fly halfway across the country for Christmas? [7:18 PM]

Scowling darkly, you text them both back.

Y/N: excuse me, I never said anything about getting back together [7:21 PM]

Namjoon: you didn’t need to – Yoongi is right, Y/N [7:21 PM]

Yoongi: per usual [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: you said when you left that you were scared to get hurt because you still had feelings for him [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: well, this is you, having feelings [7:22 PM]

Namjoon: and possibly getting hurt [7:22 PM]

Your scowl only deepens.

Y/N: I’m not going to get hurt [7:23 PM]

Yoongi: … has he said anything about getting back together? [7:23 PM]

You stare at the screen several moments before you respond.

Y/N: no… not exactly [7:24 PM]

Yoongi’s ellipses blink, then disappear and are replaced by Namjoon.

Namjoon: look – no one is saying he won’t ask you, okay? Just… maybe you should talk before dry humping him again. Make sure you’re both on the same page about what this all means [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: what Joon said [7:25 PM]

Yoongi: also – where are you? Hasn’t Jimin noticed you’re glued to your phone? [7:25 PM]

Y/N: no. I’m texting you from the bathroom, smartass [7:26 PM]

Namjoon: go back out there and have fun [7:27 PM]

Y/N: consider it done [7:27 PM]

Returning your phone to your purse, you use the bathroom and freshen up. Once you return to the party, you take a deep breath and scan the crowd.

This year’s Christmas Eve party is at the local ski lodge. The main lobby has been decorated within an inch of its life, the focal point being a gargantuan Christmas tree. Glass windows at the back overlook the ski slopes, butter-yellow light disappearing to shadows.

A waiter walks by with a tray of champagne, and you snag a glass for something to do with your hands.

“Y/N!”

A familiar voice calls, but before you can turn, Jungkook wraps you into a hug. Jungkook Jeon is both Jimin’s childhood friend and his NHL faux rival. Being from the same town, the media love to compare them at every turn – something that’s become a fun rivalry. The last time you hung out, his hair was much longer. Tonight though, he’s wearing all black with a sharp undercut.

“How have you been?” Jungkook grins, pulling back. He’s careful not to mess up your hair or dress, for which you’re grateful.

“Good,” you say with a laugh. “What about you? I hear the Kraken are leading the division – you must be happy.”

Jungkook’s smile disappears. “Not the conference, though.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing his perfectionism rivals only Jimin. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Someone’s got to be. And besides,” he adds, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s not like we have the best offensive player in the league,” Jungkook calls in a sing-songy voice.

A familiar arm wraps around your waist. “Did you two watch the same special, or something?” Jimin gripes, brushing his lips to your cheek. “There are so many good players, calling anyone ‘the best’ is kind of pointless.”

“I believe they totaled your points,” you say, much to Jungkook’s amusement.

“I leave you alone for five minutes,” Jimin sighs with a shake of his head. “And of course, Jungkook swoops in to steal you.”

“Can you blame me?” Jungkook winks, drinking from his champagne. “Look at Y/N! If he ever messes up, Y/N, give me a call,” he jokes, and you feel Jimin stiffen.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, leaning your head on Jimin’s shoulder.

He relaxes ever so slightly, squeezing your waist with one hand. Jungkook grimaces at this, trading his nearly empty champagne glass for a full one.

“You two are annoyingly cute,” he says, but he grins. “Seriously, though, you’ve been putting in work, Jimin. It’s impressive.”

“Thanks.” Jimin nods, toasting his glass.

“Have you seen Tae and Seokjin?” Jungkook asks, standing on tiptoe. “I keep getting cornered by moms wanting me to date their daughters, and I could use some high ground.”

You can’t help but laugh as Jimin jerks his thumb. “Alcove off the balcony. Everyone is gathered there – I was just coming to get Y/N.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook says as he leaves. “I’ll meet you there.”

Once he’s gone, Jimin shakes his head. Taehyung and Seokjin are two of their closest high school friends. Seokjin is currently single, but Taehyung got married early this year. Unfortunately, you couldn’t attend their wedding, but the ceremony looked beautiful, and you sent a gift.

Setting down his champagne, Jimin grabs your hand and tugs you into a corner. Turning to face you, his cheeks flush slightly pink.

“Hey,” he murmurs, looking you up and down. “Have I said how beautiful you look tonight?”

Heat stirs in your belly. “Not yet, no.”

“Well, you do,” Jimin says, his gaze dark.

Admittedly, you were a bit unfair in packing this dress. Your original intention in buying it was to wear New Year’s Eve and post jealousy-inducing photos on Instagram. Instead, you’re wearing it here with Jimin on your arm. Silky and emerald, the dress clings like a second skin, dropping in the back to a point just above your ass. Slightly impractical, but you borrowed a coat from Jisoo.

Jimin’s fingers ghost over the silk. “You deserve to hear it again,” he murmurs, his voice husky. “You’re being kind of unfair to everyone else at this party.”

“How so?”

“Poor Jungkook will have to find someone else.”

Your upper lip twitches, stepping closer. “Is that what you’re worried about?” you coo, sliding a hand up his chest. “That I’ll take Jungkook up on his offer? Not interested,” you say, allowing your gaze to linger. “You, on the other hand – that suit is designed to ruin hearts.”

“Only hearts?”

“Mm.” Softly, your voice drops. “Why? Were you planning on ruining something else?”

“Only if you asked nicely.”

Your eyes widen, stunned and Jimin smiles. His hands grip your body, cedar and black pepper scent wrapping around you and doing its best to make you come undone.

“Come on.” Taking your hand, Jimin turns away. “Let’s go and say hi to my friends. Everyone was asking earlier where you were.”

Slightly dazed by his former implication, you nod and follow. Jimin leads you through the crowd, bypassing everyone who attempts small talk. By the time you reach the alcove, Jungkook is already seated.

“What happened to you two?” he asks, smushed between Taehyung and Seokjin on the couch. “Making out in a corner? Couples are the worst,” he mutters to Taehyung before realizing who he’s talking to. “Oh. Right. Never mind.”

Taehyung’s wife, Alya, laughs from her armchair. “No comment. We may have been making out in a corner earlier.”

A lone strand of hair falls over Taehyung’s forehead. “Guilty,” he says, raising his glass.

Seokjin pokes Jungkook in the side. “If you hate couples so much, why are you sitting here,” he groans. “This is a two-person sofa.”

“Exactly!” Jungkook says. “It’s weird for you and Taehyung to sit together, since he’s married. I’m actually saving you.”

Settling onto an armchair, Jimin pulls you down with him to sit on his lap. His arm snakes around your front, pulling you backwards to rest.

“Anyways.” Jimin looks around. “How is everyone?”

Hoseok and Jisoo appear from the hall. “Oh, thank god,” Jisoo says, sitting between you and Alya. “This area was a complete sausage fest the last time we swung by.”

“Hey!” Seokjin cries. “I offered you a drink.”

“You offered her your drink,” Hoseok says drily, sitting next to his wife. “Doesn’t count.”

Jisoo leans over her armrest. “Y/N,” she hisses. “Do you have a tampon? They didn’t fit in my purse, and of course, my body waited until now to announce we’re not pregnant.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yes, of course,” you say, handing her your purse. “Left inner pocket – go wild.”

“Thanks.” Flashing a smile, Jisoo stands from the chair and disappears down the hall.

Jimin holds you against him, his thumb lightly stroking the ridge of your hip. Your entire body melts, perception heightened at each point he touches.

“So.” Jungkook turns towards Taehyung. “What did you get Alya for Christmas, Tae? Aside from the wedding, obviously.”

Alya laughs and sips her champagne. “Go on, tell them.”

Taehyung turns red. “It’s embarrassing!”

“What is?” Jungkook asks, glancing between them.

“It’s not.” Alya shakes her head. “Taehyung was so excited about the gift he gave it to me early. This morning, he surprised me by having our wedding bands engraved. I wanted to do it last year, but it didn’t fit in our budget. Anyways, he borrowed my band to clean it and got it done! I didn’t suspect a thing!”

“That’s amazing,” you say. “I love that idea.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Taehyung smiles.

“What about you, Jimin?” Seokjin jostles Jungkook to face him. “What did you get Y/N this year? What is it – four years?”

Jimin tenses slightly, so you jump in. “Oh, we decided not to do gifts this year,” you hasten. “There’s been a lot going on, and we –”

“I got Y/N a gift,” Jimin interrupts. “But it’s a secret until tomorrow.”

Surprised, you crane your head sideways to see him. “You got me a gift?”

He nods. “Yeah. Is that alright?”

“Mhm.” You shift in his lap. “I, um… actually got you something, too.”

Tightening his grip on your waist, Jimin keeps you still. “Oh?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You bought Jimin a gift months ago, and never returned it. When you were packing, you decided at the last minute to throw it inside – along with this dress and the skimpy night clothes.

“I want to know!” Seokjin blurts. “Just whisper it in my ear, Y/N. I won’t tell.”

You laugh, facing forward. “Sorry, Seokjin. That’s confidential. Mr. Kim” – you nod at Taehyung – “may not respect the sanctity of Santa Claus, but I’m not risking getting coal in my stocking.”

Softly, Jimin laughs, nuzzling your shoulder with his lips. It hasn’t escaped you that he stilled your hips to conceal his reaction to you on top. Something which distracts you more than it should.

“Get off,” Seokjin groans, pushing Jungkook upward. “I swear, you make this party worse every year.”

You grin, watching their antics as Jungkook walks off. Taller and heavier than Jimin, you know he only stood from the seat because he wanted to. Wandering to a free armchair, Jungkook flops down.

“Where’s your Christmas spirit?” he asks, waving his glass of champagne. “I was just about to tell you the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.”

Alya and Hoseok both laugh, and Taehyung shakes his head. Conversation then devolves to the Seattle Kraken, and Jimin’s fingers dig into the silk at your waist.

“Did you mean that?” he murmurs, lips at your ear. “Did you actually get me a present? Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I sprung this trip on you, and we’re not – well, you know…”

“I know,” you say back. “But yes, I got you a gift. Actually.” You pause. “I bought it for you a while ago and held onto it.”

“Ah.” Jimin pauses. Slipping his thumb beneath your chin, he turns you to face him. “Y/N. I just wanted to say –”

“Hey, Y/N, someone’s calling you,” announces Jisoo, walking into the room. Reaching into your purse, she pulls out your phone and frowns. “Who’s Mike?”

Your stomach drops through the floor.

Jimin’s body tenses beneath you, and you fight for a way out of the growing panic. Worse, everyone else seems to have heard, since all gazes lock on you. Struggling to breathe, you stand abruptly and snatch your phone.

“No one,” you blurt, grabbing your purse from a blinking Jisoo. “I mean, Mike’s a client. I should probably take this call outside.”

Before they can respond, you grab your phone and rush off. Brushing past Jisoo, you ignore her look of concern. Loudly, your heels click on the wooden floor. Whispers rise in your exit, but you ignore them, face burning as you turn your phone over in your hand.

Reaching the foyer, you stumble to a halt and glance overhead at the mistletoe. Purposefully side-stepping this, you see one missed call. In addition, there are several missed texts from Yoongi and Namjoon, but these you ignore.

Fingers trembling, you swipe open the text from Mike Davis.

Mike: hey, Y/N! I was doing laundry and found your Ventra card in my pocket. I think I grabbed yours by mistake. Want to meet up and exchange in the new year? [8:10 PM]

Mike: you know, I had a really great time meeting you the other night [8:13 PM]

You grip your phone tighter. He can’t be serious. The date ended so poorly, you were surprised the bartender didn’t film and put it on TikTok. Mike can’t actually want to hang out again. Orthink reaching out to you on Christmas Eve would be a good idea.

Brow lowered, your fingers punch the keyboard.

Y/N: Hey, Mike. You can keep the Ventra card, no worries [8:25 PM]

Deleting his number, you exhale in relief and turn around – only to run into Jimin, who stands right behind. Close enough to have seen every word on your phone.

Jimin’s fists clench, having read both the texts. There’s no reason to be jealous, he reminds himself with zero success. You aren’t dating, so it’s perfectly reasonable for you to text another guy. The fact that this Mike guy hasn’t come up is none of Jimin’s concern. And yet.

“So.” Voice cold, Jimin tilts his head. “Mike is…?”

He pauses for you to complete the blank, knowing you won’t say just a client.

“He’s…” Shifting, you avoid eye contact. “Someone I know.”

“Please.”

Your expression shifts, meeting his gaze. “Well, what do you want me to say?” you demand, stepping closer. “Tell your friends a client called me. They’ll buy it, it’ll be fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Jimin growls. “And I could care less what my friends think.”

Bewildered, you stare. “I don’t understand. That’s literally the entire reason you asked me to come here this weekend. So you wouldn’t have to admit we broke up.”

Jimin’s heart flatlines. “Is that really what you think?” he demands, reaching out. Catching your wrist, he pulls you even closer. “You thought I was so terrified of explaining my contract to my family, I couldn’t possibly tell them we broke up, as well?”

Your brows furrow deeper. “That’s what you told me, so, yes. That’s what I thought.”

“Right. And is it serious?”

“Is what serious?”

“This guy – Mike. Are you two serious?”

Your jaw hangs open a second before it snaps shut. “Are we – no, Jimin,” you say, the words dripping with derision. “We’re not serious. You and I broke up only three months ago! Do you really think I managed to move on so quickly?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin admits, even as his head spins. “I didn’t–”

“I mean, god,” you exhale, ripping your hand from his grasp. “I go on one date, and somehow, I’m the bad guy. Never mind that you’re the one who wanted to break up,” you add, whirling around to jab him in the chest. “You” – a second prod – “were the one who asked to break up!”

Closing his hand around your finger, Jimin tugs you forward. “I know,” he says hoarsely. “I know I messed up, Y/N. I know I have no right to be jealous, but I am. I’m jealous, and I’m wrong, and I don’t even fucking care because I miss you, Y/N. I know you’re right here, but I miss you.”

Something in your gaze breaks. “I miss you, too, Jimin.”

“I know I didn’t fight hard enough to keep you back then. I should have, and I can’t say how much I regret it.” Sliding his hands up your arms, Jimin grips your elbows. “I don’t care if you went out with one guy or a hundred. I asked you to come here this weekend because I wanted you. I was too afraid to ask you outright, so I used my career as an excuse.”

“An… excuse?”

Gripping you tighter, Jimin exhales. “I mean, everyone knows. My parents know I’m extending my contract, and they’re fine with it. I still don’t want to tell them we broke up.”

“Well, sure.” Your gaze darts across him. “Because you don’t want to spoil Christmas – right?”

“That’s not why.”

“Then, why?”

Before he can lose his nerve, Jimin slides his arm around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You inhale when your chests touch, the silk of your dress rucking beneath his palm.

“I think you know the reason,” he rasps, his gaze finding your lips.

“All the same” – somehow, your fingers curl into hair at the base of his neck – “I’d like to hear you say it.”

Bending, Jimin’s lips skim your throat. “I told you I don’t care what my family thinks. I just want you, Y/N.”

Inhaling sharply, you turn your head. Your lips briefly touch, then you still.

Jimin hesitates, his brain short-circuiting before he connects. Springing into motion, he slides both palms to either side of your face and kisses you deeply. Walking you backwards, he only stops when your spine hits the wall. Reaching lower, Jimin grabs your wrists with one hand to yank overhead.

You stare upward, eyes lidded, as your chest rises and falls. Jimin nearly groans, sliding his knee between your legs to widen your stance.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathes, crushing your mouth with his.

All he knows is your scent, wrapped around him. The feel of your mouth, the curves of your body arching against him. Jimin loses himself in the moment – in you – to the point where nothing else seems to matter.

Releasing your wrists, Jimin grasps the hem of your dress with one hand to drag it upward. Inch by inch, your bare thigh is revealed to his touch.

“Oh,” you gasp, your head hitting the wall.

Taking advantage, Jimin kisses roughly down your exposed neckline. Each time you inhale, it reminds him of your chest against him. Withdrawing, Jimin glances down and nearly curses. Whatever bra you have on does little to conceal your hardened nipples, easily visible through the silk of your dress.

“Mm.” Jimin exhales, running a thumb over the tip. “Can’t have you returning to the party like this, can I?”

Your thighs clench. “People definitelywouldn’t suspect we broke up.”

Again, Jimin circles your nipple, making you moan. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Like I said, though – this isn’t about the people out there. This is about you. What do you want, Y/N?”

Jimin holds his breath as he waits for an answer. Really, this is what it comes down to.

Your grip on him tightens. “I want you to take me home right now, Jimin.”

“Fuck, yes,” he breathes.

Grasping you by the hand, Jimin tugs you into the hall. You giggle, stumbling as you fix the strap of your dress, and he can’t keep a stupid grin from spreading over his face.

“We’re leaving now,” Jimin says, bringing you towards the exit. “Otherwise, I’m going to drag you into the bathroom and fuck you like that.”

Your heels dig into the floorboards, and he turns to look at you, concerned.

“Oh.” You blink innocently. “I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a threat?”

Jimin goes still, consumed by images he’d rather not face. Visions of your panties pulled down, bent over his knees while he fingers your dripping pussy. Or your hands, curled around a doorframe while he lowers himself to drag his tongue up your slit. Or pressed against a wall, your panties pushed aside for him to –

“Alright – enough,” Jimin growls, grabbing your hand.

You laugh when he pulls you onward, bringing you to the lodge doors. Reaching the front, Jimin pauses long enough to hand the valet his ticket. While you visit the coat closet, he pulls you close and runs his nose down your throat.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you make me?” he murmurs, low in your ear. “Any idea just how many times I’ve jerked off in the shower this trip?”

“How sad,” you say, turning to face him. “Pray tell, what did you think about?”

Sliding his hand over the curve of your ass, Jimin presses you closer. “Lots of things,” he exhales. “Your pretty lips around my cock. Finger-fucking you slowly, making you take it. How wet you were beneath those ridiculous excuses for nightgowns.”

Your laugh is throaty. “I brought those specifically for you, you know.”

“Mission accomplished,” Jimin growls. Outside, he sees the valet arrive and releases your waist. “Now, let’s go.”

Slipping both arms into your coat, you follow Jimin outside to the car. He helps you in, shutting the door and traveling to the passenger side. Shoving a hand through his hair, he attempts to regain his composure. The two of you need to get home safely – that’s top priority.

Of course, by the time he sits down and glances over, all thoughts of safety fly out the window. You’ve left your coat unbuttoned, enough that he sees each sinful line of your body. Suddenly, his top priority is to get you home – now.

Shutting the door, Jimin puts the car in drive and pulls from the lodge. You exhale, somewhat breathless as you shift to face him.

“This is going to be fast,” you admit, a bit breathy. Jimin’s hands on the wheel tighten. “You said you’ve been jerking off in the shower? Well, I haven’t had any alone time. You’ve just been edging me for three days.”

“Don’t say edging,” Jimin groans. “I’m trying to concentrate on getting you home.”

“Oh?” Tilting your head, you lean closer. “Do you find that topic distracting?”

“Yes,” Jimin huffs, and then pauses. “Actually… I think you could use a little more distraction. Don’t you?”

He doesn’t miss the way your fingers still, your breath hitching beside him.

“Maybe,” you say.

Jimin glances in your direction. “Spread your legs.”

Without breaking eye contact, you spread your legs until the silk is stretched tautly over your thighs.

“Pull up your dress.”

Casually, you grip the hem to tug upward. Jimin tries not to look, watching the road, but the position is torturous. As soon as you come to a stop light, he turns.

Your thighs press against the edge of the seat, silken dress hitched over the top of your thighs. Jimin exhales, unable to see what he wants, but the shadows and skin are more than enticing.

“Touch yourself,” he instructs, and desire flares in your gaze.

Arching slightly, your hand inches lower to dip beneath your dress. Jimin keeps his eyes on you, watching and waiting for your reaction. When he hears the slip of your finger, your lips slowly part as your eyes fill with lust.

“Oh,” you exhale, and Jimin’s body tightens.

“That’s it,” he breathes, listening to your finger drag upward. “How wet are you, baby?”

“So wet,” you groan, eyelashes fluttering as you spread your legs further.

“No.” Jimin’s gaze drops to your hand. “Press your thighs together. Keep touching yourself.”

The light turns green, spurring him onward as the night changes. He watches you obey in the corner of one eye, legs pressed together with your hand trapped between them. Head hitting the headrest, your chest rises and falls with the motion of your fingers.

 “That’s it, baby,” Jimin murmurs, switching lanes to go faster. “You’re doing so well. I want you to come once for me before we get home. Okay?”

Your eyes open. “You want me to come?”

“Just once.” Jimin lowly chuckles. “I know you, baby. I know you can come at least twice more tonight.”

“Fuck,” you groan, your need evident.

The record number of orgasms Jimin has given you in one night is five, but that was only one time. Jimin thought it’d be fun to see how many times he could make you come with only his tongue. Five, it turned out – or rather, that was the point you frankly begged for his cock.

A few minutes away from home, Jimin relents. “Alright,” he exhales. “Spread your legs again.”

You instantly obey, thighs spread as you groan, your fingers slipping lower.

“Can you stretch yourself for me, baby?” Jimin murmurs, the words low and thick. “Keep that other hand on your clit, now.”

Adding another hand, you arch on the seat. Every ounce of blood in Jimin’s body rushes towards his cock, enough to make things painful as you near the house. You push a finger inside, releasing a moan that makes his grip tighten.

“That’s it,” Jimin exhales, driving as carefully as possible over the dirt road.

“Ah,” you gasp when he hits a bump, jolting your fingers deeper.

Jimin clenches the wheel. “You liked that?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, glancing at him, your expression almost shy.

Fuck. Jimin does his best to angle the car, creating more friction as you rub your clit. He does his best to remain facing forward but is distracted every so often by the sight of your hips moving against the seat.

Throwing out a hand, you grasp his lower arm. “Jimin,” you groan, your head hitting the headrest. “I’m so, so close.”

Pulling to a stop in the driveway, Jimin puts the car in park and throws off his seatbelt. Shoving open the door, he goes to the passenger side. Your eyes widen when he yanks open your door, unbuckling you and dragging your hips to the edge of your seat.

“Eyes on me,” Jimin directs, gripping the seat on either side. “Just keep touching yourself like a good girl, Y/N. I know that pussy is so pretty and wet. Can’t wait to lick it clean later. Can you spread yourself wider? Add another finger?”

Your thighs fall on either side of his waist, enough for Jimin to know you can feel how hard he is. The dress continues to cover your waist, and he doesn’t lift it higher. Doesn’t so much as touch you, just keeps his gaze trained on yours.

“I need your fingers,” you whimper, and Jimin feels you grip his wrist, guiding his hand in between your slick legs.

“Shit,” he exhales, feeling how wet you are.

The slick core of heat, your hips arching against him, breaks his last scruple. Keeping his gaze steady, Jimin slowly slides two fingers into your perfect cunt. Relief washes over your face, your lips parting as fresh arousal coats Jimin’s hand.

“God,” he murmurs, twisting his fingers to pull out. Slowly, he pushes back in and watches you hiccup. “You really did need my fingers, didn’t you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whimper, scrambling to sit straighter. Pulling him closer, your thighs widen. “I need you inside me.”

“In what way?” Jimin muses, stretching you as he pulls out.

“Want your cock, Jimin,” you groan, your chest heaving.

Pushing aside your coat, his free hand yanks down the strap of your dress, revealing what can barely be construed as a bra. The tiniest silk triangle barely covers your nipple in a flimsy excuse for support.

“You’ll get my cock,” Jimin promises. Lowering his head, he sucks your nipple – silk and all – between his lips. “Want to taste you first.”

“Jimin,” you moan.

“Patience.” Yanking your hips closer, he leans over you on the seat. Using this angle, he works his fingers deeper as your body tightens. “Like that, yeah?” Jimin murmurs, brushing your g-spot. “Want to come like this?”

“Please,” you whimper, spreading your thighs.

Jimin loses himself in the haze of your body, the tight slick of your heat while he finger-fucks you. Each thrust of his forearm has your breasts bouncing, your tiny scrap of a bra doing nothing to hide the movement.

“Once we get upstairs” – Jimin thrusts harder – “I want this dress on the floor. I want you dripping wet and naked, ass in the air so I can push my cock inside you.”

“Jimin!” you gasp, your entire body shuddering.

“And then,” he adds, low in your ear, “I want you to ride me. Need these tits in my mouth, your ass bouncing on my dick as you come again.”

You cry out, head thrown back as you come apart. Continuing to thrust his fingers, Jimin slows his movement as your breathing lengthens. Slumping against him, you hold tight with both arms.

As gentle as possible, Jimin slips his fingers from your body to fix your dress and coat. Shifting your weight from the seat to his arms, he shuts the door with his heel and starts to walk up the drive.

Stirring, you look around. “Oh,” you exhale, seeing the front porch. “Are we home already?”

Jimin stops to stare at you in his arms. “Did you… think I just pulled aside on a random highway?” he asks, equal parts puzzled and amused.

Sheepish, you feel your face heat. “Maybe?”

“Fair enough.” Jimin chuckles and keeps moving. “You should know, though – I wouldn’t risk anyone else seeing you like that.” He pauses. “Unless you wanted them to.”

You squirm in his arms, somewhat embarrassed by how much you like the prospect. Seeing this, Jimin’s eyes gleam and he leans closer.

“Seems like you might want that,” he murmurs.

Unable to articulate, you nod and watch his lips curve.

“Noted.”

Reaching the front door, Jimin bends to set you down. Once inside, he strips from his coat and boots, turning around to face you.

God, just looking at him is enough to make you weak. He just gave one ridiculously satisfying orgasm – it should be too soon for another and yet, your traitorous body feels barely sated.

“Was I not clear?” Lifting a brow, Jimin walks closer. “I thought I said I wanted you naked.”

You lift your chin. “Wanting is different than getting.”

“Oh, I think you want that, too.”

Fuck. You absolutely do, but you know Jimin enjoys being teased, so you lift your chin in the air to walk past him. “Well?” you demand, placing one hand on the railing. “Are you coming?”

You let your coat drop to your elbows, stepping out of your heels to head upstairs. Jimin groans from behind, and you hear his footsteps follow.

Entering the bedroom, you drop your coat on the couch and turn. Jimin stands framed in the door, several buttons on his jacket already undone. He doesn’t come any closer, and you lift your thumbs to slip under the straps.

“Was this what you wanted?” you ask, innocently slipping them down your shoulders.

Jimin moves forward. Coming to a stop, he replaces your thumbs and casually tugs. The dress slips from your shoulders, catching on your chest, and he motions you to turn.

Obeying, you watch in the mirror as Jimin steps closer. He meets your gaze head-on, slipping a hand around your stomach to mold himself to you from behind. Finding your zipper with his other hand, he tugs down.

Both of you watch the dress fall, silk pooling at your feet to leave you naked. Well, mostly naked. A red, silk thong remains, along with your bra. Really, just two triangles of silk held up by thin straps. Your breasts spill around the materials, creating a tantalizing visual his gaze is locked on. Jimin fingers the clasp of your bra, then releases.

“Actually,” he says, his voice husky. “I want to play like this.”

Before you can fully digest his words, Jimin walks around and grasps your hand. Leading you to bed, he sets you down and urges you backwards.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, nudging your ankles apart. “Just like that.”

Releasing you, he takes a step back to run a hand through his hair. You stare upward, propped on your elbows, your chest rising and falling. Jimin stares like you’re something to be savored, then devoured. His gaze traces your body, starting at your ankles to work his way upward.

He takes in your spread legs, dripping pussy visible beneath the scrap of silk. By the time Jimin finds your breasts, your nipples are painfully hard, and he groans, reaching down to palm his cock. Your breath catches, seeing how hard he is in his pants.

“Jimin,” you moan, sliding one foot lower. “I want you.”

Lowering his knee to the bed, Jimin plants a hand on either side of your head. “Patience,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to yours.

You curl around him, fingers tangling in soft stands of his hair. His fully clothed body presses against you, nearly nude, and you shiver. The feel of his suit against skin is intoxicating. Jimin pulls back to nip your lower lip, grasping you by the waist to pin you fully.

Thrusting forward, he allows you to feel how badly he wants you. His achingly hard cock grinds against your center, and you arch beneath him.

“Jimin,” you pant, tightening your grip in his hair.

“Ah – fuck,” he groans, helplessly rutting between your spread thighs.

Your hands fumble, slipping beneath his suit jacket to cast this aside. Jimin sits up, helping you shed his dark turtleneck. Thrown to the ground, he lowers his mouth, eagerly flicking your chest with his tongue. You moan, hands fisting his hair to anchor him. Tugging the other silk cup down, Jimin switches to suck a hardened nipple.

“Get rid of it,” you pant, reaching underneath to unsnap your bra. Jimin grins, tossing your bra on top of his pile of clothes. Swiftly returning, he bends to lick and suck at your breasts.

Your hips roll beneath him, desperately searching for your release. Jimin knows how sensitive you are, knows you can come like this, but doesn’t seem inclined. Instead, he sits back and runs a hand through his hair.

You nearly come at the sight – Jimin, shirtless with mussed hair and reddened lips. Pushing yourself upward, you struggle to undo the first button of his pants.

Chuckling, Jimin replaces your hands with his. “I need these on,” he says, scooting backwards. “I need something to keep myself from coming.”

“But I want you to come,” you protest as Jimin lowers himself to his stomach.

“And I appreciate that.” Turning his head, his breath touches your knee. “But I’ve spent three months fantasizing about what to do if I ever got to touch you again. First things first.”

Lowering yourself to your elbows, your entire body throbs at the sight of Jimin between your thighs. He looks at you, reverent, before slowly dragging his thumb down your aching center.

“Oh,” you inhale, opening further.

Gaze dark, Jimin pulls the fabric of your panties aside. Your face burns, hearing your wetness, but all that dissolves at the first sweep of his tongue.

“Fu-ck, Jimin,” you groan, head tipping back.

He takes his time, working you open with long, tender strokes. No man has ever eaten you out so well, and you doubt anyone ever will again. As though driving this point home, Jimin switches from tender licks to sucking hard on your clit. You moan, helplessly splayed beneath his torture.

“Jimin,” you gasp, hands fisting in sheets.

Shifting closer, Jimin nudges one leg over his shoulders and grips your ass with both hands. Pulling you into his mouth, he devours, licking up and down in a way that’s obscene. A half-sob climbs in your throat, your back arching when he adds a finger.

“That’s it, Y/N,” Jimin pants, lifting his head. “Such a pretty pussy. Can you come for me, baby?”

“Y-yes,” you gasp.

Jimin lowers his mouth, adding a finger while slowly sucking your clit. Staring down your body at him, you feel your thighs tremble. Jimin’s shoulders flex while eating you out, his hips grinding into the sheets to get himself off. Imagining his cock pushing inside tips you over the edge, and you break apart. A wave of pleasure sweeps through you, seeing stars as Jimin curls his fingers.

Muscles limp, you collapse on the mattress. When your eyes open, your thigh is still flung over Jimin’s shoulder. Grinning, he pushes himself upward, taking your leg with him. Turning, Jimin presses a soft kiss to your calf.

“Fuck,” you groan, one arm flung over your face. “That was even better than I remember. And trust me, I’ve thought about that a lot.”

“Oh?” Jimin gently sets your leg down. “Do tell.”

You peek at him through your fingers. “Take off your pants.”

Jimin drops his hands to his belt. “Tell me” – he undoes the buckle – “in explicit detail” – he pulls the length through the straps – “what you thought about.” The belt is dropped on the floor.

Your tongue swipes your lower lip. “I thought about a lot of things.”

“Be specific.” Shoving his pants and briefs down, Jimin lingers at the point where his hips are exposed. “When you touched yourself, did you think of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Mm.” Jimin tilts his head. “What about when you used your toys?”

You whimper, spreading your thighs on his bed. “Yes.”

“And were they good enough? Did your pretty pink dildo stretch you as nicely?”

“No,” you whimper, watching him stand.

Still looking at you, Jimin pushes his slacks to the floor. Your heart pounds when his length is released, so hard it seems painful. The head of his cock glistens with pre-cum, the thick veins prominent. Wrapping a fist around himself, Jimin places one knee on the mattress.

“Take your panties off,” he rasps, and you hasten to obey.

Once they’re removed, you’re left naked before him. Gaze glinting, Jimin inclines his head. “Turn around. Lay on your stomach.”

Heat throbs between your legs as you do so, glancing over your shoulder. Jimin positions himself behind you, kneeling over your thighs with his cock in his fist.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” he exhales, slipping two fingers into your pussy. Arching your back, you squirm to get closer. “When you come, I want to see you, but right now…”

You feel the head of cock nudging your thighs apart, getting wet with your slick. Leaning over, Jimin pulls open a drawer on his nightstand to retrieve a condom. Pulling this open, he rolls this onto himself and pushes between your thighs.

Each messy thrust rubs his cock against your clit, making you push your ass backwards. Jimin smacks your ass swiftly, then makes a low noise and rubs it.

“God, I missed you,” he exhales, pushing himself into your cunt.

You moan, burying your face in your arms to lift your ass higher. Jimin is thick, even more than you remember, and you feel your walls stretch with a pleasant burn. He pauses a few inches in to gently tug your hips upward.

Keeping your chest to the bed, he lifts you almost to your knees. Leaning forward, Jimin slips an arm underneath you to play with your clit. From behind, his hips slowly thrust in and out a few inches. Stretching you, yet barely sating the edge of your desire.

“Jimin,” you groan, turning your head to capture his mouth.

His fingers nudge your clit, tongue slipping past your lips as his cock gets even deeper. Each time he slowly thrusts and withdraws, you accept him a little more. Buried halfway, Jimin draws leisurely circles around your throbbing clit.

“More,” you moan, pushing back.

Jimin chuckles, retreating to grip your hips with both hands. He thrusts in slow, easy motions to work himself deeper. By the time he bottoms out, your hands are fisted in sheets.

“Fuck,” you exhale, thighs spread to accommodate him inside you.

Jimin stays there a moment, thumbs drifting over the shape of your ass. “Y/N,” he mutters. “You’re so goddamn perfect.”

Leisurely, he withdraws until only the head of his cock remains. Jimin thrusts forward slowly, making you feel every inch of him. Moaning, you bury your face in the sheets, and his hand comes down again.

“Louder,” Jimin demands, gripping your waist. “Don’t hide from me, baby. Want to hear you.”

Head thrown back, you pant as he sinks into you fully. All you do is take it, breathless and eager while he slowly fucks you. Casually, Jimin pushes your hips down so you lie flat on the bed. One foot on the mattress, he adjusts himself to push inside you like that.

“Oh,” you moan, toes curling.

Thighs pressed together, your clit rubs the sheets, making it messy and tight as he moves inside you. Gripping your ass with one hand, Jimin anchors himself to fuck you in slow, rolling movements. You arch underneath him, gaining friction but when you clench tighter, Jimin pulls out.

A strangled sound leaves your throat. “Excuse me,” you blurt, rolling sideways to face him. “I was enjoying that.”

“Oh, I know.” Jimin grins from the spot where he kneels. His cock is hard, glistening with evidence of your arousal. “But what I really want is to have you on my lap.”

A shiver runs down your spine. Turning over, you arch your back and watch Jimin’s eyes glaze. He reaches for you swiftly, helping you onto your knees. Seating himself against the headboard, Jimin arranges your body over his thighs.

Hovering above him, you grasp his shoulders. “Is this what you wanted?’

“Fuck, yes.” Jimin drinks in your body. His fingers swipe through your cunt, teasing as he bends to suck a hard nipple between his lips.

Spreading your ass with one hand, his fingers stroke up and down your aching pussy. Arching against him, you present your chest further as your grip on him tightens. Jimin slips a finger inside you, casually fucking like that until you moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper. “Please.”

Moving to grip his cock, Jimin positions himself at your entrance. “All you had to do was ask,” he says, guiding your hips.

The head of his cock pushes inside, then stops, waiting for you to take over. Greedy, you seat yourself in a single motion. One second, you’re empty and the next, you’re full of his cock. Jimin swears, gripping you tightly as you inhale. Chest pressed to his, you stay there, pussy throbbing as you grow accustomed to his girth.

“Fuck – Y/N,” Jimin chokes out.

“I thought you wanted this?” you tease, lifting your hips to swivel. Jimin’s eyelashes flutter when you start riding him, rising and falling on the length of his cock.

Thighs spread, you grip his shoulders to move up and down. Jimin groans, lowering his head to tease one of your nipples. He continues this while you fuck him, sucking and releasing with a lewd pop. Needing him deeper, you start to bounce up and down. His cock soothes a tight ache inside you, stretching your body like he was made for it.

Breathless, you press closer, curling your fingers into his hair. Jimin responds eagerly, widening your thighs to grip your ass with one hand. Tightly entwined, you move against him until he takes over, slamming your hips down again and again.

“Jimin,” you pant, your legs trembling. “I need more.”

“More?” Jimin pants, his expression truly fucked out. “Alright, baby.”

Lifting you off his cock, he ensures the condom is snug and positions himself on his knees. “Lie down,” Jimin demands, and you hasten to obey.

Settling on your back, you spread your thighs for Jimin to move between. Gripping your ankles, he lifts your legs upward. Pushing them towards your chest, he exposes you fully.

“So pretty,” Jimin murmurs, dragging his fingers through the slick of your folds. Switching your ankles to one hand, he lowers them to his shoulder and positions his cock at your entrance. When he pushes inside, you moan at the tightness. “Yeah, that’s it,” he coaxes, getting deeper. “You take me so well, baby.”

“Better than other girls?” you pant, the words out of your mouth before you can stop them.

Jimin goes still, then gently parts your thighs. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Jimin leans forward until your lips brush.

“What other girls?” he murmurs, thrusting into you slowly. “Y/N. You don’t seriously think I had any interest in fucking other girls while we were apart?”

Your heart hammers as you try – and fail – to squash your insecurities. With everyone else, you have no trouble saying what you want. With Jimin though, you’re aware he could crush you with a single word. It’s harder when the stakes are as high as they are.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you did,” you whisper. “We were… broken up, and –”

Jimin bends, rolling his hips to shove his cock deeper. Your words break on a moan, legs encircling him tighter.

“I don’t want to hear that again,” Jimin says, low in your ear. “You are the only person I want, Y/N. The only one in my bed. The only pussy wrapped around this cock. The only one coming beneath me,” he murmurs with another hard thrust.

Your thighs start to shake, but you fight to keep present. Hips lifting, you match him thrust for thrust as your fingers curl in his hair. Jimin moves faster, pounding you into the bed hard enough to see stars.

“I don’t care if you slept with someone else,” he says hoarsely, reaching between you. You tremble when he circles your swollen clit. “I just want you thinking of me from now on.”

“Y-yes, Jimin!” you cry out, not sure what you’re agreeing to, but knowing you don’t want this moment to end. You don’t want this to end when the weekend is over.

His mouth crushes yours, tongue sweeping forward to match every thrust. Jimin’s scent is all around you, within you as you begin to lose track of where you end, and he begins. Your focus narrows, becoming nothing but pinpricks of building pleasure. Jimin’s cock pounds into you harder, hands grasping, breath mingling as you come undone.

Gasping his name, you clutch him tight as your pleasure explodes. Jimin coaxes you through it, keeping his fingers on your clit to ride out the tremors. Once you’re slumped, fully sated, Jimin releases the hold he had on himself. Nearly withdrawing, Jimin slams his cock forward to fill your still-spasming cunt.

You cry out, thighs widening as he lets you have it. Fucking you with full abandon, Jimin hammers your g-spot in a punishing manner. Nearly as swift as the fall, you feel your climax building. This time, your body feels beyond your control, practically weightless beneath the force of his cock in your pussy. It’s all you can do to stay conscious when another orgasm rolls through you.

Jimin groans when you come, feeling your walls flutter around his thick cock. Burying his face in your neck, Jimin thrusts deeper to release. Clasped tightly around him, you feel the warm pulse as he fills the condom. Bittersweet, you wish this wasn’t there, so he could play with his slick. Breathless and panting, the two of you lie there until Jimin withdraws.

Gathering his strength, he sits back on his heels. Removing the condom, Jimin ties this in a knot and tosses it in the trash. When he heads for the bathroom, you stretch out both arms, feeling limp.

And happy.

By the time you and Jimin trade places, your eyelids are drooping. Exiting the bathroom, you find the lights off and Jimin already in bed. You attempt to grab his t-shirt from the floor and are met with a loud throat clear.

“What are you doing?” Jimin huffs.

Straightening, you find him already in bed, the sheets pulled down beside him. Jimin looks pointedly at that side, then at you.

“I was trying to wear your t-shirt to bed,” you say, slipping between the sheets to face him. “It’s Christmas Eve, I’ll have you know. December in Washington. Brr.”

Moving closer, Jimin slips an arm over your waist. “There,” he murmurs, pulling you towards him. “Use me to warm up.”

For this, you have no retort. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers you should talk to him, that there are important things to discuss, but everything fades in the warmth of his arms. Eyelids so heavy, you can barely keep them open, you fall asleep.

For the first time in months, you sleep through the night.

You wake the next morning with a start.

Eyes wide, you stare at the wall and feel Jimin’s arm on your waist. Rather than joy though, panic claws at your throat. There were so many things you should have asked him last night. So many things you should have said instead of immediately falling into bed with your ex.

As quietly as possible, you slip free of his arm and stand from the bed. Grasping a sweatshirt and jeans, you tiptoe down the hall to swiftly get dressed. Gripping the bathroom counter, you stare at yourself in the mirror and try to sort through your feelings. Twice, you pull out your phone only to hesitate, setting it down.

Today is Christmas, meaning Namjoon and Yoongi will be with their families. Dr. Germain, your therapist, is on vacation, although you know she would respond to an emergency. This could hardly be considered an emergency, though. This is just you, acting rashly and – your heart sinks, knowing this was exactly the opposite.

You want Jimin. You’ve wanted Jimin since the night you broke up, but were so near-sighted last night, you didn’t stop to ask if he wants the same. Abruptly, you turn and open the door to the hall. Heading downstairs, you sort through the facts.

Jimin apologized for this fall. He said he regretted not staying. He said he thinks of you often, and that he hadn’t been with anyone else. If this were last year, you might read between the lines and assume he still wanted you. This isn’t last year, though. Current you has experience with expecting Jimin to do one thing, and he does another.

Dragging a hand down your face, you stop by the kitchen for coffee. The only way you’ll be able to sort through this before opening presents is with massive amounts of caffeine.

Gazing outside, you see freshly fallen snow and wonder if it’d be crazy to go for a walk. Once your coffee is full, you pad down the hallway and slip on your boots. Your coat is halfway zipped when a throat clears behind you.

Whirling around, you nearly drop the mug as Jisoo appears.

“Oh my god,” you blurt, one hand on your chest. “You scared me. I didn’t realize anyone else was awake yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” she laughs, walking closer with her own mug. “Two three-year-old daughters on Christmas? They’ve been up since the crack of dawn.”

Nervous, you laugh as your hand falls. “Ah, right. Is Hoseok keeping them in their rooms?”

Jisoo shakes her head, coming to a stop. “They fell back asleep – Hoseok, too.” Curious, she glances past you at the door. “Going for a… walk?”

“Thinking about it.”

“It’s below freezing.”

“Yeah. I thought it might help… clear my mind.”

Her brows furrow, pensive enough that you nearly curse. You couldn’t be more obvious that you and Jimin are having trouble. There’s no other reason to be up this early, trying to escape into the wilderness rather than face your ex.

Plaintive, she takes a sip of her coffee. “You know, I know you two are broken up.”

Well, fuck. Someone will have to scrape your jaw from the floor. Stunned, you stare as Jimin’s sister takes another long sip of coffee.

Seeing your face, Jisoo steps closer. “You stopped talking in the group chat,” she explains softly, patting your arm. “And Jimin… well, he seems slightly better now, but we all saw how he was after the injury.”

“I don’t… we, we’re not,” you fumble, the words dying.

“It’s okay. I get why you didn’t want to tell us. Why he didn’t want to tell us.”

At this point, it’s too late to make any denial. Jisoo has already seen the truth in your face. You suppose the important part is she hasn’t told their parents – although part of you wonders if his mom knows, as well.

“It’s been a long year,” you admit finally, your voice cracking.

“Oh, Y/N.” Setting down her mug, Jisoo pulls you into her arms. “There, there,” she exhales, rubbing your back. “I’m sorry I brought that up. I just thought… well, I thought you might want to talk to someone not my brother.”

“Thanks,” you whisper.

Patting your arm, she pulls back. “So, do you? Want to talk?”

“I…” You trail off. “It’s complicated. We broke up last September, but Jimin asked if I’d help him break the news of his contract to your parents. Things have been different this weekend, but I don’t know if Jimin is on the same page as I am. I want to get back together, but… he’s the one who asked to break up.”

Jisoo’s eyes fill with sympathy. “You should talk to him.”

“I know,” you exhale. “I know, and I will. I just… I can’t stop thinking about the last time we had a serious conversation. How badly that went.”

Understanding crosses her face. “I get that, I do.”

“He seems different. But it’s only been three months. Jimin is playing hockey so well – he seems to have his shit together, and I’m just a mess. What if I want to get back together, and he says no? Maybe this whole thing – the holidays, the hot chocolate – was just a way to say goodbye.”

Jisoo’s gives you a look. “Y/N. Listen to me – I know my brother. I knew within two seconds that you’d broken up. And I’m equally certain he still loves you – partly because my husband is a terrible secret keeper.” She shakes her head. “Apparently, Jimin asked for Hoseok’s help to win you back.”

You blink. “That… that can’t possibly be –”

Footsteps clatter downstairs, and you both turn your heads.

“Y/N,” Jimin blurts, slipping a little. His sweatpants are only half on, hopping wildly to avoid Hana’s toy on the landing. “Thank god. I thought you left,” he admits, rushing forward to grab both your arms.

Jisoo pointedly clears her throat.

Jimin glances sideways, then does a double take. “Have you been there the whole time?”

Rolling her eyes, Jisoo grabs her coffee and turns. “Merry Christmas, Jimin. Go and make up with your girlfriend.”

He watches her leave, then shakes his head, and looks back. “Are you okay?” he breathes, scanning your frame. “I woke up and you were gone. I thought…”

Putting two and two together, your eyes widen. “You thought I left.”

Jimin seems a bit queasy, but he manages to nod.

Taking another step closer, you grip his elbows. “Jimin, no,” you say. “My suitcase was still there. Didn’t you see?”

“Oh.” He blinks. “I didn’t notice.”

Oddly enough, his panic gives you the courage to speak. “I wasn’t leaving. I just wanted a walk. You know… clear my head. Think about what happened last night.”

“Are you… having second thoughts?”

“Second thoughts?” you say in disbelief. “Jimin, we never discussed a first thought. You weren’t clear about what you wanted.”

“I wasn’t clear?” His brow furrows. “Y/N, I said I didn’t want anyone but you. That you were the only person for me. I apologized for September and said that I’m trying to change. What else could I have meant?”

Your heart hammers against your ribcage, but you push on. “I know,” you admit, voice catching. “It’s just… well, I thought I knew what you’d say in September, and I turned out to be wrong. I was scared, and I asked for a break, but you agreed.”

Sudden understanding dawns on his features. Jimin’s hands slide up your arms to cup your face, his gaze gentle.

“Y/N, no,” he murmurs. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left. I just… didn’t want to hear what you were saying, which was that our relationship had problems. You wanted to fix those problems, and I ran away. I’m not running now, though.” Determination flickers in his gaze. “Y/N, I want to stay. Whether that’s as your boyfriend, fiancée, husband, or something else entirely – I don’t care. I just want you.”

Hearing him say this, your heart swells. Unbearable lightness spreads through you, and you take a step closer. Jimin pulls you against him, hands finding your back as he lowers his head.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he murmurs. “I should have been clearer last night. I was, uh, a little distracted.” Jimin huffs out a laugh.

“I’m sorry you woke up and found me gone,” you whisper, tightening your grip. “I just… didn’t want to assume, and I was scared.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not assuming, Y/N. I love you. I never stopped loving you. And I will never stop,” he adds. “So, you might as well get used to this.”

“I never stopped loving you, either. I –”

Jimin cuts you off, crushing your mouth to his. Bending at the knees, he lifts you over one shoulder and heads for the stairs. You yelp, smacking his shoulder but Jimin doesn’t stop.

“Jimin,” you laugh. “It’s Christmas! We should –”

“Celebrate our relationship at least once before everyone else gets up? Yes, agreed.”

Breath catching, you briskly nod. “Yes, yes. Good point. That.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest, carrying you down the hall and for the rest of the morning – until the twins bang on your door – you lose yourself in blissful certainty. Jimin is yours, and you’re his.

With no end in sight.

Seated beside you on the loveseat, Jimin plays with your fingers, entwined in his lap. With his other arm, Jimin brings you closer to brush a kiss to your temple.

Smiling, you face him. “What’re you doing, Mr. Park?” you lowly scold. “You do know we’re not alone, right?”

Jimin lowers his nose to your hair. “More’s the pity,” he murmurs.

Heat flushes through you, but he sits back in his seat. The Christmas Eve party this year is at the ski lodge again, and all of his friends have gathered in the same spot. Tonight though, you sit beside him with a ring on your finger. Jimin barely made it to the playoffs before he proposed.

Thumb brushing over the stone in the center, Jimin can’t help but smile. From far across the room comes the sound of Jungkook booing.

“We get it,” he calls, hands cupped over his mouth. “You two are disgustingly happy. Get a room, why don’t you?”

“We will,” you call back, snuggling into Jimin’s side. “Later.”

Seokjin laughs and elbows Jungkook’s ribs. “You’re only annoyed because you’re the only single guy left.”

Jungkook pouts and sits back. “True. What’s that all about? Why’d you have to bring a super cool, amazing date to the party this year?”

Seokjin’s date, Nova, laughs. “Thanks? I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should.” Jungkook nods, then faces you and Jimin. “But seriously, you two seem very happy and I’m glad for you both.”

Jimin blinks. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” Jungkook casually crosses his arms. “Your current level of happiness will make it all the sweeter when I kick your ass in the playoffs this year, Park.”

When you snort-laugh, Jimin gives you a look. Said look makes you squirm against him on the sofa, though no one else seems to notice.

“Yeah.” Drily, Jimin looks at Jungkook. “Because that worked out so well for you last year.”

“Ohhh,” Hoseok calls, entering the room with Jisoo on his arm. She’s noticeably pregnant, with a due date next month. “He got you there, Kook. Remember when you lost and now, you and Jimin are tied for Stanley Cup wins?”

Jungkook stares at him blankly. “Hm, no. Don’t recall.”

The entire room laughs, conversation shifting to topics other than the NHL. Squeezing Jimin’s thigh, you snuggle closer and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I am, though,” he murmurs.

You glance upward. “You are what?”

“Happy.” Jimin meets your gaze. “Happy you gave me a second chance. Happy to choose you, again and again.”

Breath hitching, your fingers tighten in his. “Easiest choice I’ve ever made.”

© kpopfanfictrash, 2023. Do not copy or repost without permission. Author’s Note: thank you so, so much for reading! HAPPY HOLIDAYS to anyone who celebrates!

[snickerdoodlles]

one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.

this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.

now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.

except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"

and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.

this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."

I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.

but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.

what an absolutely appalling statement to make.

google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?

the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.

especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.

and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.

edit: check out this reblog thanks

[lucyandalexiafan]

Hopeless | reader x Alexia Putellas | part 1

Summary: you’re alone, even though you were part of the Barça team, you were alone. You thought being part of it meant feeling supported, liked, maybe even part of a family, but that wasn’t the case.

Warnings: angst (and fluff in the end)

Words: 4.4k

It's thanks to @muffinpink02 that this fic is seeing the light. When months ago I wrote the first part I was scared to send it to you because I thought it was boring or repetitive, but, from the beginning, you supported and hyped me during the writing process, suggesting ideas and correcting them every time I sent you even just three sentences. I'm so grateful you helped me so much 🫂

You had never really felt part of something.

Of any group.

Of any friendship.

It was as if the people around you found their people, their friendships, their relationships, but not in you.

You were motionless, with nothing and no one.

Football had been a good relief valve.

A tool useful to not think about it.

To not think about how lonely you felt.

About how everyone seemed to treat you as extra, as not necessary.

About how everyone seemed to exclude you when you were least needed or at the first opportunity.

It had been painful at first, you cried and wondered what was wrong.

Why did it always happen?

And it happened in football too, with every team you played for.

With the boys from the team when you were just a kid, who included the other girls but not you; with the first girls’ team and with the first youth teams.

You always seemed to be extra.

To be too much.

You felt too much.

Except on the field.

On the field you were good.

You were really good at football.

You had poured out every bad thought, anxiety, resentment, and self-hatred on the field, chasing those balls and perfection, trying to achieve the best possible performance and the best teams.

The possibility of changing cities, maybe countries, pushed you to play better and better. The hope of finding your place, the hope that that place was elsewhere but findable, had driven you to give your all.

And this had paid off when the Barça talent scout contacted you.

Your parents didn't care much, you were of age, you could do what you wanted. So shortly after, you boarded a plane to Barcelona, a suitcase of clothes with you and many hopes.

But it had been difficult.

Your young age had mainly put you in contact with the youngest of the team, but they seemed so carefree and spoke so little English that you felt out of place.

With the older ones, you were out of place because what did you have in common with them? With the great Alexia Putellas, with Fridolina Rolfo, what could you possibly have in common? They were so perfect, and talented.

So over time, you ended up isolating yourself, reveling in the same loneliness that had always accompanied you, in that awful but familiar feeling of not being in the right place.

You lived alone, so you could drown every tear in the pillow every time you came back from training. You could cry undisturbed at any time of the day, every time you saw your teammates' stories of them going out together and not being invited, having dinners and not being invited.

It was an endless whirlwind you had fallen into. You isolated yourself by refusing any contact, always feeling like too much, and people stopped trying.

In the end, you were good at football, your performances were excellent, and you behaved perfectly during training. What more could they want from you?

Maybe you had hoped that, seeing how they were all so closed off, they would include you, they would fight harder to help you and include you.

But it hadn't happened, or at least you hadn't experienced it that way.

You had spent Christmas alone in Barcelona and so was New Year's Eve. No one to celebrate within your hometown, no one to celebrate with in Barcelona; your parents traveling who knows where happy not to have to spend money on you anymore.

You had burst into tears, into a panic attack, a few days after training started.

Everyone talked about their holidays.

Family dinners.

Family games.

Friends reunited.

New Year's parties.

You avoided those questions, avoiding the conversations as soon as holidays were mentioned.

What were you supposed to say?

You would have just seemed pathetic, lonely, useless. You already felt that way, you didn't need them to know.

Then, the umpteenth time they tried, they managed to ask you what you had done during the holidays.

You lied.

You said you had gone home and everything was quiet.

Then, as soon as lunch was over, you ran out of the room and took refuge in a small gym in an isolated spot in the sports center.

You put on your headphones and started punching the boxing bag.

The music in the headphones and the tears on your cheeks.

Why weren't you like them?

Why was no one with you?

Why were you so alone?

You were wasting so much time of your life because of loneliness that it almost felt like living the same days over and over again.

The same identical routine, the same cycle of actions, every day, all days.

You collapsed to the ground, your body flooded with sobs, your throat contracted by moans of pain.

You felt pathetic, there on that floor crying over a fate that seemed to be yours, crying over a plot already written.

Then the door of the room had opened and you had stared at it in fear.

Alexia and Mapi had entered, a sigh of relief escaping their mouths when they recognized you.

"You're here! Dios we looked for you everywhere! Do you know what- are you crying?"

You huddled against the wall.

Her angry tone, that angry captain's tone that you had only heard once in the locker room, terrified you.

If you were already insignificant to the team, what would happen now with her that is mad?

You tried to please her, to at least feel accepted by her.

You shake your head as you stand up, your hands immediately wiping your cheeks.

Mapi takes you by the shoulders.

“What happened? Are you injured?"

You shake your head again, you move in an attempt to free yourself from her grip.

The only thing that mattered to them about you was football. It was that you could play, that you made the right passes and the perfect assists.

What did they care about how you really are?

"Then why are you crying? - you try to leave, to get away - No, stop! I said stop!"

You freeze in place, eyes fixed on the floor.

That low, angry, warning tone, almost daring to challenge her.

"Now you tell us why you're crying."

You looked at her.

Should you tell the truth?

Admit to the two of them what you really felt?

That storm of dissatisfaction and sadness?

That feeling of loneliness and apathy that hung over your life?

"Can you hug me?" You whispered looking at her, tears covering your eyes, in an attempt to receive, at least once, the love you were seeking so much.

Mapi's arms wrapped around your body without hesitation. Her strong arms held you close to her, your cheek against her shoulder, your hands gripping the edges of her shirt, tears wetting the fabric at shoulder height.

"I'm sorry" you whisper "I'm pathetic."

Mapi hugs you again.

"Don't say that, it's not true. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

You bite your lip, your eyes now fixed on the window.

"I didn't spend Christmas and New Year's Eve at home, but in Barcelona."

"Did your family come here? Why didn't you-"

"Alone, I don't know where my parents were and I had no one to celebrate with."

There's silence.

An embarrassing, humiliating, silence.

You feel even worse.

Even more pathetic.

Even more stupid.

Why did you admit it?

For what reason -

"What do you mean you had no one?"

"I don't have friends" you answer flatly.

It was true.

You had no one.

"You could have asked us, we-"

"What? Would you have taken a burden like me to celebrate with at your home? - you laugh sarcastically - Don't lie, you're indifferent to me. Whether I'm there or not doesn't change anything for you, just like it doesn't change anything for anyone on the team."

"Don't even think about it" Alexia's voice is dangerously low "You matter to the team-"

"Oh yeah? I see it. You go out without me, you don't care about me, I'm useless if not on the field."

Silence.

Deaf, powerful, silence.

What could they say to deny what you said?

It's true.

They go out without you.

They have fun without you.

They party and celebrate games.

“Listen - you close your eyes to Alexia's voice - I'm sure the situation isn't-”

“Have you saved my number in your contacts? - she looks at you, her eyes widening - do you see it? We've been playing together for months, we're in at least three WhatsApp groups together, and you've never saved my number. Why should you? Like I said, I don't matter, why would you ever feel the need to contact me? And I'm not talking about social media, following me on Instagram or anything, but my phone number, and you're my captain, aren't you?”

You shake your head frustrated.

You know you could pay the consequences for this behavior in the future. You're yelling in the face of Alexia Putellas, your captain, in front of another person. Alexia has made your teammates run entire training sessions for far lesser things than this lack of respect.

Maybe you don't care.

Maybe you want her to make you run because it means that someone, somehow, noticed you.

You leave the gym, leaving the two women completely still, thinking.

After that discussion, you went to that room for another technical meeting. As always, you sat at the back, a notebook on the desk and a pen in hand, pretending to be attentive and the chance to keep your head down.

A part of you had hoped that by talking about it, by angrily spitting out how you felt against them, they would do something.

That they would take a step towards you.

That they would include you.

But it didn't happen.

As usual, at the end of the first part of the technical session, you went to get a coffee from a coffee machine, in complete loneliness, and no one approached you.

You went back inside, and sat at your desk, headphones in your ears, until you resumed the meeting.

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb,"

You usually put your phone on "Do Not Disturb," trying to convince yourself that the lack of notifications meant you were unreachable, but in truth, no one was looking for you.

No one wrote to you.

No one invited you out.

You left it on without "Do Not Disturb" all day.

You obsessively checked your phone for any pretext.

The time.

The schedule of university classes.

Exam dates.

Training times.

Making sure that the next day was a day off.

Anything to try to find a notification.

But nothing.

Complete silence.

Had you been wrong to shout how you felt, to open up for once?

You had been pathetic, you knew it, but you couldn't stand this feeling anymore.

This feeling that eats away at you from the inside.

Of this acid that was melting you from the inside.

You couldn't live it anymore.

So you had hoped that by opening up things would change, but, like that day, the next one there were no messages.

No notifications.

No calls.

You had locked yourself in the house.

The fetal position on the bed, the nausea that closed your stomach.

How could you have been so stupid?

Why should they ever do anything?

You had remained curled up since you woke up until dinner time.

Nothing at all.

No notifications.

No calls.

The only time your phone rang, you jumped up on the bed.

The hope that someone had contacted you, the hope of counting.

The hope that what you had done had made sense.

But it was the Barça staff warning you that there was no training the next day.

For the rest, nothing.

No sound filled that emptiness of the apartment, of your body.

Yet you couldn't stop looking at the phone.

Hoping to receive a message, a call, or a like on social media.

Anything.

Any sign.

You fell asleep like that, motionless and in the same position as when you got up.

The emptiness inside that had engulfed you and the whole apartment in a black hole of sadness, resentment, nausea, and fatigue.

What was wrong with you?

The next day you forced yourself to get out of bed, make coffee, and eat something.

Anything to feed that exhausted body.

You struggled to swallow the food, to chew it, to tolerate its taste.

Everything bothered you.

Every taste made you want to vomit.

Every sound irritated you to the point of plugging your ears.

The emptiest, most useless, days of your life.

The bottom that you had finally reached. You had crashed into it, actually, with such an impact that it didn't allow you to move even a finger, not that you wanted to, move it.

The next day you forced yourself to get up, knowing that you had to reach the sports center to go to the airport to play the match.

You didn't want to go there, you didn't want to leave the house, you didn't want to see anyone, let alone play.

But you forced yourself to put on the usual Barça tracksuit that you once were excited to wear and to pick up the bag, the apartment keys in the other, and close the door's house behind you with a dry sound that echoed in the empty corridor.

Had it always been so empty?

You got on the bus with less strength than you had at the end of a strenuous match.

You sat in the same place, always alone and always near the window. The feeling that, as always, no one would sit next to you was strong, it exploded in your chest like your desire to cry, to scream that you were hurt, that you didn't want to continue to live in this way.

And so it had been.

No one had sat down.

On the opposite side of the pair of your seats were, as always, Marta and Caroline. You avoided looking at them, because this would have meant contemplating their silent and shy love, their reserved way of showing love.

Their intertwined hands.

The barely hinted smiles.

The shared headphones.

It was too much.

That love so sweet, so reserved, was too much to observe from afar, from the outside.

It seemed so unrealistic for you, for your life, that seeing it come true for someone else burned inside, wore you out.

Then you had arrived at the airport, got on the plane and got off. Someone from the staff had sat next to you, but no one to whom you attached much importance.

"Okay, the rooms are doubles."

Your nightmare.

The thing you hated most was the double rooms.

You wanted to cry in the shower, groan as the water ran down your cheeks and along your chin, and lean your back and head against the wall in an attempt not to suffer too much from the sobs.

Double rooms prevented you from having that privacy, that vital space, during away matches.

Those matches that until the first week, you had so excited about, so wanted to play, but which now had turned out to be just your worst nightmare.

A mixture of anxiety, anger, and sadness.

“Lucia and Maria, Ingrid and Ona.. you two seem to be the last - Jona had said, the tone almost bored, as he gave the key to your room to Alexia - The rules for away games are the same, double rooms or not. Please.”

Alexia had clapped her hands telling everyone to go to the rooms.

You had followed her with your head down, the whole team in front of you and you behind her. She seemed relaxed, her pace calm and her shoulders relaxed, one hand holding the trolley handle, her hair tied up.

You entered the room, she first, and you followed.

“Which bed do you want? - you look at her silently hoping she expresses a preference - you usually sit facing the door, so I suppose this one is better because from here you can see it”

You stare at her.

Wide-eyed.

How does she know?

When did she notice?

“So? - she chuckles - Is this okay?”

You nod cautiously, hesitantly, looking at the bed. A part of you thinks she'll sit on that one, telling you that she'll take it then, that she'll do it to punish you for what happened.

But she moves to the other one and puts her suitcase in it.

You look at her confused.

"Are you not taking off your backpack?"

You blink a couple of times, getting out of your thoughts and moving towards yours, turn your back to her, and lay it on the bed. 

You don't know what to do. 

You hear her opening and moving things around. 

How many things did she bring with her? 

Usually, when there are double rooms, they put you with someone from Barça B, what do people like her do during away games? 

Does she go to bed early? 

Does she eat in her room after dinner? 

Does she watch a movie? 

How should you behave?

"Hey - you turn abruptly - it’s okay for you if we talk?" She asks, her voice cautious. 

You don't answer. 

You just look at her. 

Talk about what? 

How she'll get you out of the team? 

How pathetic are you? 

Talk about what?

She sits on her bed slowly, legs crossed, hands on her feet. 

You are standing, arms along your body, hands open on your thighs. 

You both remain silent. 

She looks at you, trying not to show it, but she's nervous, she's agitated. 

You already want to leave. 

Turn towards the door and exit from this room. 

The claustrophobia explodes, and the air seems not to enter your lungs.

Months ago you would have jumped for joy knowing you would share the room with her, with Alexia Putellas, two Ballon d’Or and one of the best players in the world.

You wouldn't have been able to contain your excitement at the thought of spending time with her, even if spending time alone with her. 

Now all you want to do is disappear, to escape as far away as possible from her.

"Where do you want me to sit?"

"Wherever you want, on your bed or mine - you look at her, not knowing what to do - Why don't you sit next to me?"

You nod hesitantly, even though you know it's a rhetorical question. 

She moves towards the headboard of the bed, legs crossed. 

You sit down facing her, legs crossed, hands on your thighs. 

You don't look at her. 

You feel her hesitate, sighs that seem to suggest several times that she tried to say something but stopped before making a sound.

"Have you ever been to the Canary Islands?" - you shake your head - "Perfect, what do you think about going out for something to eat together?"

You look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Cap-Jona said that... the rules are the same and we can't go out," you respond hesitantly.

Why is she asking you? 

Does she want you to break the rules? 

Does she want a reason to kick you out? 

Does she want a reason to punish you, to get back at you for three days ago? 

You clench the fingers of one hand into the other.

Why is she doing this? 

What does she want from you?

She shrugs. "Being captain has its advantages - she smiles a bit cocky, a bit hesitant - No one will find out, I promise," and she moves her pinky towards you.

You look at her confused. 

You understand the reference to "Cross my heart," but you can't believe she's actually doing it. 

It's also a bit comical, the great Alexia Putellas moving her pinky toward you, swearing that no one will find out if you break the rules. 

Never in a million years did you think it was possible.

She withdraws her hand, palm against her thigh. "I know a good place that does street food, you know, fish and chips but also burgers, and they also do vegetarian food and I know you're vegetarian. If you feel like it, we can go."

Her voice is hesitant, and calm, her posture stiff.

Should you trust her? 

Not that you have many options and you would do anything to get out of this room, out of this hole surrounded by four walls that you're forced to share with her. 

And outdoors she can't do anything to you, right?

You nod hesitantly. "I'd like that."

Almost a whisper, a faint combination of timid and frightened words.

She smiles.

"Do you have casual clothes? Like a hoodie and pants - you nod - Great! Then put them on and let's go."

You watch her as she stands up.

Do you really want to eat with her? 

How long has it been since you went out with someone? 

You feel the tears in your eyes as you dress. 

You put on a simple shirt and baggy jeans, an attempt to hide, to not be visible. 

Are you really that alone?

Probably yes, you can't remember the last time you went out with someone. 

That you did something other than going to training, games, or grocery shopping. 

Why is your life so empty?

If you didn't work, would you have opportunities to leave the house? 

Reasons to do it? 

People to do it with?

You try to think about it, to think about the last time you went out because you wanted to, because you had to meet someone, but your mind is empty. Your thoughts run through the narrow paths of the labyrinth of your memories, but nothing refers to outings.

You close your eyes.

You can't cry.

Not now.

Not with her.

Not now that maybe you're going out with someone.

Not now that someone has invited you out, has asked you to do something together.

No matter the reason, you know she asked you to talk about what happened, but at least you'll do something together.

When was the last time you ate out with someone?

Has it ever happened on occasions other than team or class dinners?

You bite your lip and walk to the bathroom.

You wet your face with cold water, the vain attempt to freeze the sadness, the anger, the bitterness.

How to erase it?

How can you stop these feelings?

You're wasting your life.

You dry your face, almost scraping it with the towel, almost wanting to scrape away that feeling, that self-hatred.

You leave the bathroom with your head down, still doubtful that Alexia really wants to go out with you breaking the rules.

"Ready? - you nod - Perfect, then let's go."

You put your phone in your pocket and follow her out the door, she closes it and then swipes the magnetic card on the lock.

Are you really going out together?

Is this really happening?

Where's the trap?

"Shall we take the elevator, is this okay for you?"

You nod, your voice seems to have disappeared, left in the room.

She hesitates, looking at you, then turns to the right side of the corridor and walks towards the end of it; you walk behind her, the blue of her jeans the only color in your field of vision besides the awful red of the carpet and white walls.

What will happen?

Was she serious?

You hear a metallic noise and see her walking into the elevator box, you follow her and she presses the zero button.

"Do you do this often, go out during away games?" you ask, your voice little more than a whisper as you watch her adjust her hair in the mirror.

"Usually I leave this opportunity to Irene, when her family travels to the cities where we have games, so she can spend time with them. But sometimes it happens, also because Marta just cares to spend time with Caro, it doesn't matter where they are."

She finishes fixing her hair and inside you the question of 'who do you take with you' is inflamed with curiosity.

Who does she go out with?

How many times does she do it?

The image of that rock-solid captain, rigid with rules and obsessive with timings is suddenly softened by this cocky, rebellious version.

"When María got injured, I went out with Ingrid a couple of times, she was scared of leaving her alone at home and walking was helping her - she smiles when she sees we are almost there - And when Jenni used to play with us, we usually went out to dinner together, but that’s a long time ago now."

You open your mouth, your eyes wide.

So it’s true that they were-

"Come on, let's go before we get caught," she ends the conversation before you can actually speak, a smile on her face knowing she has finally drawn out a reaction from you other than fear, doubt, or anxiety.

She walks quickly to a back exit.

"Can you ride a bike? - you nod - Okay, then let's take these bikes to go to the place I told you about. You're a vegetarian, right? The local tourist guides say it’s the place with the best vegetarian burgers on the whole island."

You bite your lip.

Where did she find out?

You never told anyone, only the staff knows, but you rarely eat in the canteen with them and when you do it’s so rare that it doesn’t arouse suspicion that you eat vegetarian.

"Do you like it?"

You nod while you struggle even to eat a fry.

But it really seemed good, and there were so many flavors and types of burgers, sandwiches, and condiments.

Did Alexia really think of you?

Did she really look it up to bring you here to eat?

You’re sitting on a pier, a somewhat hidden part of the beach, away from the road.

Just you and her.

Alexia had placed your dinner on the cold, damp wood, had taken out the two packs of baked fries and Coca-Cola and then placed them on the paper bag.

You watched her as she did it, the embarrassment of noticing the time she took to do everything precisely.

Is she always like this?

Then she asked you to sit in front of her so you could eat facing each other.

You hesitated but complied.

Then, as soon as your eyes met hers, your appetite, the desire to taste this amazing hamburger, disappeared.

That smell that until a moment ago seemed like the aroma of a great dinner, now only made you nauseous.

You grab the Coca-Cola and try to swallow a few sips, hoping the nausea will go away.

Alexia paid for dinner, fifteen euros and seventy cents each, she didn’t even let you take out your wallet.

You have to eat.

What will she think otherwise?

That she wasted money?

That you’re ungrateful?

You have to eat.

You try to eat another fry, your taste buds sending signals of disgust to your brain as soon as they come into contact with that flavor.

Is it anxiety?

Panic?

Fear?

"How do you feel?" She asks.

You freeze.

How do you feel?

Bad? Good? Sad? Angry? Hurt?

You don’t even know how you feel. That torment, that gurgling, in your stomach doesn’t stop, that flow of negative thoughts and anxieties doesn’t stop attacking you.

Maybe you should tell her you’re fine, that you’re nervous for the game but that everything is fine as always.

Even though nothing has been fine for as long as you can remember.

When has something ever gone well?

When was the last time you felt good?

Maybe when Barça signed you, when you got on that plane thinking another life would begin.

You close your eyes, you can’t cry.

But it’s true. Maybe that was the only happy moment after years of feeling nothing different than a constant state of apathy, of emptiness.

It was the only moment when you thought things would change, the last moment, the last time you let yourself hope.

So maybe that’s why you feel so bad now?

"Fine, you?" You answer mechanically.

The same response you always gave the medical staff, the training staff, those few journalists who found it interesting to interview you.

But you don’t look at her, you know she would realize it’s not true.

Empty eyes, rigid shoulders, clear signs of the effort it takes to lie again, for the umpteenth time.

"Can we skip the part where you pretend everything is okay?" She asks, the tone bored, irritated.

You clench your eyes as soon as your mind registers that the tone of voice is angry by your attempt to lie.

What should you say then?

What does she want you to say?

You sigh.

It’s a dead end, isn’t it?

You and her alone on a pier, at night, far from the hotel.

There’s no way out.

"Why do you ask?" You ask, your voice uncertain, a whisper.

"Because I care."

You laugh sarcastically by instinct, unable to control yourself.

That’s what your parents always say when they call you after months of silence, telling you that you’re ungrateful and that they care about you.

Then they don’t call for weeks.

Is there anyone who really cares about how you are?

Who really cares about you?

You don’t think so.

In the end, you’ve lived in many cities, met many people of different ages, experienced things with them.

Did any of them ever really care about you?

No.

Did anyone really want you in their life?

No.

You were just a pastime of the moment, the lady-in-waiting, the entertainment.

"Anxious for the match."

Another excuse, the umpteenth.

Another lie, the thousandth.

You don’t look at her face, you know that if you did, you would cry.

You try to take a bite of the hamburger, but you have to chew it for a long time to find the strength to swallow.

"Why? You’ve been playing as a starter since the beginning of the season."

You know she doesn’t believe you.

Why is she playing along?

You shrug.

"I always feel this way before matches."

"You never told me."

"You never asked."

There is silence.

You bite your tongue.

Couldn’t you keep quiet?

"Sorry," you whisper, scared.

Will she yell? You don’t want her to yell, to get even angrier.

She says nothing, you hear her drink the Coke.

"I get anxious playing with you because you’re the best in the world," you reply.

It’s a partial truth, you’re scared to play with them, not being up to par.

But the reality is you’re always anxious because you know you’re worth nothing to them, so you’re afraid that at the first mistake they will kick you out, bench you forever.

"You don’t have to, you’re really good."

You don’t answer, a compliment thrown to the wind.

She doesn’t really think that.

If she did, you would feel part of the team, right?

If you were that good, they would have included you, you would be part of the group, and not just a marginal ornament.

You eat in an awkward silence almost half of the food.

You don’t speak, she doesn’t speak.

You don’t look at her, she doesn’t seem to look at you.

What should you tell her?

She sighs. "Look at me."

You raise your head but avert your gaze into the void next to her head, pretending to see her without looking at her.

"My eyes are here," she reproaches you, the captain's voice, that gently authoritative tone.

"I would like to talk about what happened, but I know I can’t force you -"

"Yeah, exactly, maybe it’s better not to, forget it," you interrupt her.

You know she hates it when you interrupt her.

She hates being interrupted.

You see her put the sandwich down on the box.

You close your eyes.

"Okay, we can’t continue like this."

You don’t answer.

What should you say?

You don’t understand what she wants.

You don’t understand why you’re here.

You don’t understand anything.

"We need to talk"

"Why? Because we have to sleep in the same room? If you wanted to talk to me you would have done it sooner” you spit angrily.

You attack her.

You don't care about respect, the fact that she is the captain, that she is Alexia Putellas.

What might interest you if you have already hit rock bottom?

What depth can you still reach, that they stop talking to you?

Why, do they talk to you?

Alexia is silent.

A silence so punishing, so tense, it makes you want to cry.

Why doesn't she scream?

Is she bored already?

Do you want to go back to the hotel?

“Maybe we'd better go,” you continue, while placing your hands on the pier in an attempt to get up.

"Sit down"

“Otherwise, what do you do? – you reply bitterly, in the end what do you have to lose? – will you put me on the bench? Will you hit me?”

You laugh sarcastically.

Alexia is silent, so you continue in your attempt to get up.

“I took a few days to think about what happened, about what you said to me and María - she sighs - I asked her not to tell anyone about what happened, so only we and probably Ingrid know, given that María cried all night"

You tense up.

Cry?

Why did she cry?

Does Ingrid know?

Does she really believe you believe her?

Days to think?

“I asked Jona to put us in the room together because I wanted to talk to you but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable and talked to you about two days ago in front of the others, but then I thought it would be embarrassing to do it in the room”

You do not say anything.

What does she want to tell you?

That you're out of the team?

Are you pathetic?

You don't look at her, your eyes fixed on your mismatched socks visible due to your pin-hole shorts.

Anything to avoid looking at it.

“We should have figured it out, how you were doing, what was happening. Instead, we were focused on winning, on the matches, this year the only new player besides you was Ona, but she knew all of us, and we didn't think about the shock and difficulties that playing with us could bring, that moving to Barcelona would cause - look at her - We all made mistakes, me first, and I don't know what to do to improve the situation"

Honesty surprises you

“Sit down, please”

[kdinjenzen]

My final words on Rooster Teeth & just SOME of my experiences there.

I’ve been waiting to say anything directly for a long time on this subject in hopes that something - anything - would change and get better, but it’s obvious that this is just “how it is there.”

So it’s time for me to finally say something about Rooster Teeth.

I joined the company, officially, as a contracted content creator and editor in February 2013. I worked to create a monthly video game news/release series. I produced episodes every month until I was officially hired as a full time content creator/editor in November of 2013.

From February 2013 until November 2013, I went entirely unpaid for all of my contract work. I was never given the payment promised for anything I did. When I was hired full time and I brought that up, I was told that “it’s been so long already, it’s not really a big deal is it?” And then the subject was never brought up again.

Within a few weeks of working at Rooster Teeth I was given a nickname, that nickname was a slur. Every day I came into work I was called “Fggt” - but they could not use that name in content so when anyone was recording I was called “Fugz” instead. For any fans who used that nickname for me for years, that’s what you were calling me. I couldn’t say anything about it, I had reported the use of that nickname for years to HR, and nothing was ever done about it and the videos that use that nickname for me are still up.

When Christmas rolled around my first year, 2013, I was given a “bonus” of about $100. Any money I had at the time was extremely helpful as I had nearly nothing to my name, so I was grateful for it. But a long time member of the company looked at me as I was handed my small bonus and scoffed “Why do YOU get a bonus? You’ve only been here for five minutes.”

In my first years there I would arrive at work around 7am (two hours before everyone else) to begin editing videos and would often have to stay until 9pm to get as much work done as possible. This was actively encouraged so we could have a backlog of content, but I was always given “rush orders” to edit more important videos to go out either the same day or next day. That’s when the crunch began for me and it did not end.

From that point on harassment started, and not just toward me. Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”

This “ignore the comments” mantra was a way to excuse their own behavior. Anyone who was not “important” was constantly made fun of with no way to defend themselves or be part of the content in a way to defend themself even jokingly so. We were silenced at every turn.

Jeremy, Matt, and I tried to make content together as often as we could in those earlier days. And we rarely got the chance to do so. I remember being yelled at for making the Zelda video with Matt after it had already gone up because it was a “waste of time”.

During that time I was put into a position where I ignored my own physical health to focus more on work, which eventually caused me to come down with pneumonia. I spent several days in the hospital with a fever over 112F. When I was released I was back to work only a few days later and with the same work schedule.

Eventually I had enough from the department I was working for at the time and moved departments in hope that I would be better treated elsewhere in the company. I still loved the work I did, I loved some of the people at the company, and I believed that if I put my effort into it I could make things better for everyone.

The department I transferred to promised me a producer job and show running their new podcast while also being tasked to edit videos and sometimes write stories for news channel. I was never given the producer position in that department, I was never allowed even near the podcast unless they were “desperate for a last minute person”, I went entirely uncredited for anything I wrote for them, and I was pushed to edit 3 videos from start to finish every day with little to no turn around time so they could be posted immediately.

My hours in that department were 7am until 11pm.

I was crunching harder than before.

I wasn’t allowed to be in anything.

I had my name removed from everything I worked on.

I was put in an office where I was forgotten about and swept under the rug, people even IN the company forgot I worked there with how sectioned off and pushed aside I was.

In 2016 I came out as trans and many people at the company publicly voiced their support on social media.

Inside the company however, things got worse.

People had no idea how to deal with a trans woman, so I was interacted with even less and only trotted out every so often to show off “We Hire LGBTQIA+ People!”

It was only at this point where the nickname “Fugz” finally stopped being used all the time. Three years of content with that name being used toward me and all that content is still up.

During that time my acting manager began to harass me and lie to the community any time I was “planned to be on camera and couldn’t show up” - many times it was said to the audience watching that I “had already gone home” when I was in the other room crunching to finish my job and the work of my manager.

The harassment continued and I began to spiral into a deep depression, wondering what I could do, I eventually reported it to HR and the “solution” was that they brought in my manager who was harassing me into a Two-On-One meeting where the manager said “oh I’m sorry” and that was it. The way I was treated did not change at all and actively became worse.

I then went to one of the founding fathers of the company to express my concerns, and was told that I was “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and that I should “just quit and find somewhere else to work” - I was horrified.

At the moment I couldn’t do anything but feel horrified and powerless. I was an out trans woman in Texas in 2018 and was told “just quit and find work elsewhere in Texas” a state that actively finds ways to keep our rights from us.

Throughout my employment I also struggled to get the company insurance to cover my transition despite Rooster Teeth telling me that “Oh it’s all good” - because of their inaction and lack of help in this matter I amassed horrible amounts of medical debt despite being “completely covered” by them.

I still am recovering from this debt now as Rooster Teeth has been underpaying me for years, my raises were frozen by my manager at the time, and because of that I never received a proper raise even up until I quit earlier this year.

Until the end of 2020 I was paid around $40k per year as a Producer/Director. Far below the industry standard. If not for the help of one person fighting for me to be paid properly, I wouldn’t have gotten bumped up to the pay of the lowest paid person next to me. Which was nearly $70k. I was shocked that I was being underpaid by nearly $30k.

During the 2019 layoffs, I was actually one of the people affected. I was very nearly laid off as well, but was told to either move to LA and work there (at the $40k per year rate which is UNLIVABLE in LA) or be laid off immediately.

I agreed to move to LA, Rooster Teeth said they would be giving me $5k moving costs to pick up my life and move to LA by March of 2020. The money never was given to me and then COVID forced the company into moving to remote, meaning my job was actually saved by COVID happening.

Crunch during the height of COVID was monstrous. Every department was forced to push out more and more content and do more and more work to make up for “losses” - many of us were working 7 days a week and extremely long hours.

I helped run the 2021 Anniversary Stream Event, but in the middle of production I had to undergo life saving surgery and was told I needed AT LEAST two weeks rest before going back to work. The person I was working with to schedule that event took credit for all the work I did up to that point and then BLAMED ME for anything that went wrong with it because “I wasn’t doing my job” while I was recovering for major surgery and was on mandated medical leave.

BRGs (Business Resource Groups) were created at this time to help with representation issues inside the company. I did everything I could to help the other BRGs as well as the Queer BRG I helped lead. By mid 2021 I was told “we’ve done enough for the queer community” - which hurt to hear as I felt like we had barely accomplished anything and were still struggling to have accurate representation on screen as most of our PRIDE stream events featured mostly Cis/Het talent still.

During this time there was a lot of outspokenness for the mistreatment of minority groups inside of Rooster Teeth from former employees, lots of fans asked “Why didn’t you all do anything about it?”, to which I say actual ground level employees did everything they could. But we could only do so much.

At that moment I asked for transparency for how others, not just one or two employees, were treated in the company - myself included - and was essentially told that “the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone”. How I was being treated and how others were being treated was once again swept under the rug.

I left Rooster Teeth because, despite thinking I could make positive change in the company, they proved that I couldn’t every step of the way. From 2013 until 2022, I did what I could to help my fellow employees, make positive change, and help the industry.

It’s also worth mentioning that for every bit of VO I did before I left Rooster Teeth, I wasn’t actually paid for any of it under the idea that “I was an employee, so I don’t need to be paid for VO.” In that case and the way it was viewed, I was paid less than $30 per hour for each of my VO sessions. Which is well below any industry standard.

But I was ultimately silenced and pushed aside.

This is all really just the surface level, there’s so much more I want to say but honestly it’s all so exhausting at this point and I’ve done everything I can.

I still struggle regularly with the emotional, mental, physical, and financial damage that was done to me over those years.

There are good people still working there, I’m friends with them, and I wish them the best.

TL;DR

Feb 2013 - Nov 2013. Unpaid Contract Work

Fugz = Fggt, reported to HR nothing was done

2013 Christmas "Bonus" $100. Long time members disapproved of said bonus

14hr work days, rush orders for same or next day videos

"Any time I brought up mistreatment or that “making fun of people in content only encourages the community to hate us” - I was waved away saying “IT’S JUST A JOKE! Ignore the comments!”" RT crunch caused pneumonia, no recovery period on return

Crunched harder, physically isolated "people even IN the company forgot I worked"

RT never fulfilled their deals promotion deals

15 hr work days

2016 came out as Trans, Transphobia harassment started

Acting Manager lied to the community and harassed me, HR did nothing and enabled harassment

Founding Fathers knew and did nothing. Said “too nice to work at Rooster Teeth” and "just quit and find somewhere else to work"

RT did not properly support medical insurance coverage

End 2020 Position Producer/Director, paid $40k. Next lowest paid person was $70k.

2019, forced to move to LA or get laid off. RT never paid moving costs. COVID forced remote jobs thus SAVING my job

RT INCREASES crunch during COVID

2021 Anniversary Stream Event. Had LIFE SAVING surgery, majority work stolen by coworker and blamed production failures on me during MEDICAL LEAVE.

BRG created to help with representation issues, mid 2021 RT said "we've done enough for the queer community" PRIDE stream events still mostly Cis/Het talents

Mistreatment of minorities in RT ignored "“the company is going through a lot right now just leave it alone"

Unpaid for VO work during tenure at RT, May Marigold and RWBY Fairy Tales included.

Handful of good people. Bad Company.

[aemondsbabe]

Making Amends

summary: a fancy party & praising || you finally see why michael hates going home for the holidays and treat him the way he deserves

pairing: michael gavey x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, breast/nipple play, heavy praise, riding, brief cockwarming, cursing, brief mention of daddy kink but it’s not used, dirty talk, angy michael (not at reader), angst but happy ending, parents being stupid, choking, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 3.4k

a/n: happy day twelve of 12 days of smuff!!! we did it!!! a very merry christmas to all those who celebrate; i hope your holidays are full of love and fun! I hope y’all enjoy this one & i look forward to writing many more stories in the new year!

TAUNT | Part 1

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

this one can be read as a continuation of taunt & praise or as a stand alone!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Ohh, Michael!” An older woman croons, making you and your boyfriend turn your heads at the same time, “How lovely to see you!” 

“Nice to see you too, Aunt Janet.” Michael says, his voice monotone, and gives the woman an awkward half-hug. You give him a sympathetic grin when he rolls his eyes at you over her shoulder.

“And who is this?” She asks, turning to look you up and down with a smile.

“She’s my girlfriend,” Michael explains, taking a second to introduce the two of you, “We met at uni.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You smile politely and shake her hand. 

“How wonderful!” She turns to you and puts a hand on your forearm before leaning in slightly with a grin, “We were beginning to give up on this one ever finding someone to put up with him!” She grins, giggling like it’s the funniest joke in the world. 

You merely awkwardly chuckle, though it only takes one glance at Michael to know he’s fuming. You can’t really blame him, this is how it’s been all evening, ever since you’d arrived at his parents house. Michael had tried to talk you out of accompanying him to their annual Christmas party, claiming that hell would be a lesser punishment, but you’d insisted, saying it couldn’t be that bad. 

When you’d first pulled up to the Gavey’s home, you’d been excited! They’d gone all out with the decorations, though Michael claimed they usually did, but that didn’t stop you from marveling at all the garland, lights, and wreaths that adorned every inch of the house. And since this year’s party was apparently more formal than usual, that just gave you the chance to ogle at your boyfriend in a tux, which was an automatic win in your book.

And yet, here you are, listening to yet another joke at Michael’s expense and hating every second of it. It seemed like every relative and family friend had one in store, if it wasn’t about finally finding someone to put up with him, it was about what he must’ve done to bribe you into it, or that he must be paying you to be here. Not to mention the backhanded compliments; you’d grown so tired of hearing remarks about how they’re so happy that Michael had finally found someone or, “Oh, finally! Took him long enough!” 

“Old fucking bat,” Michael mutters under his breath as Aunt Janet totters off, “Knew we shouldn’t have come.” He grumbles, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry, babe,” you sigh, giving him a small half smile as you place a comforting hand on his leg, “I don’t understand why they can’t simply be nice.

He scoffs next to you, rolling his eyes with a sardonic smile, “Wouldn’t be a real Gavey Christmas without snide comments, fucking losers.” 

The evening continues in the same fashion and suddenly you understand why Michael has always been so defensive and eager to prove himself, you would be too in a family like this. 

You can tell your boyfriend is operating on a very short fuse and offer him a placating smile every time you notice him clenching his jaw or notice his breathing pick up, chest heaving under his black suit jacket. 

However, it’s finally a comment his father makes during dinner that sets him off. You’ve hardly started eating when it happens, with everyone sitting around the Gavey’s impressively large dining room table passing various dishes back and forth. 

“So,” Mrs. Gavey started, giving Michael a pointed look as she refilled her glass of wine, “How were your marks this term?” 

You glance down in time to see your boyfriend white knuckle his fork and quickly stroke a hand over his knee, which seems to help lessen his tension somewhat, thankfully. 

“Distinctions,” he answers dryly, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, “Obviously.” 

His mom simply nods, not offering any praise or even a generic, “Well done,” much to your surprise. 

And a few seconds later, everything blows up. 

“How’s that friend of yours doing?” Mr. Gavey butts in, setting his steak knife down as he speaks, “What was his name? Owen… Oscar, maybe?” 

“Oliver.” Michael corrects him, so quickly and quietly that you’re surprised his dad even catches it. 

“Oliver! Of course, and how’s he doing? Hm? You haven’t mentioned him in some time.” 

There’s a beat of silence in which you fight the urge to kick Mr. Gavey under the table, knowing exactly where this would go. 

“We don’t… talk anymore. I haven’t seen him for ages.” He grits out; his leg tenses up under your palm once again when his mother lets out a disappointed sigh, as if she were getting ready to scold a small child. 

“Michael, honestly,” she starts with a small shake of her head, “It’s not good for you to be so socially isolated all the time.” 

“I’m fine.”

“What about that other boy you used to go around with, hm?” His mom continues on, seemingly oblivious to his foul mood, “The one you were so close to in primary school, oh, he was lovely.” 

“Felix, wasn’t it?” Mr. Gavey quips, “Whatever happened to him? I always thought he had such a good head on his shoulders.” 

“He’s a cunt.” Your boyfriend seethes lowly, all but vibrating with rage as he spits each word out. 

“What was that, dear?” His mom asks, none the wiser. 

“He’s a cunt!” Michael exclaims, his fork clattering across the table as he tosses it down, scraping his chair back across the floor. 

“Michael!” Mrs. Gavey chides, a horrified look on her normally placid face as she, quite literally, clutches at her pearls. 

“If you’ll fucking excuse me.” Michael mutters, tossing his cloth napkin down onto the table with a dull thud before retreating from the table with a growl. 

The silence that follows is deafening as everyone stays frozen at the table for a moment; you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the shell shocked expression on his grandmother’s face. 

After a beat, Mr. and Mrs. Gavey begin falling all over themselves to apologize, awkwardly laughing as they make excuses for Michael, as if their bullying hadn’t made him snap. 

“I’m gonna go check on him,” you say after a moment, giving polite smiles to his parents as you stand from the table, “Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

“Of course, dear,” his mother nods sagely, ever the beacon of motherly wisdom, “We know how sensitive little Michael is.” 

As soon as your back is turned you roll your eyes, nose wrinkling in disgust. Little Michael? What the fuck? 

It only takes you a minute to locate him upstairs as you quickly spot the door to his childhood bedroom tightly closed. You smile sadly as you walk over to it, you pause for a moment before knocking softly. 

“Michael?” You call, pressing an ear against the door, “You in there?” Your brows furrow when you hear a small sniffle from the other side of the door and your hand automatically goes to the doorknob, a sigh of relief leaving you when it easily turns. 

Your heart breaks when you push the door open and peek inside, quickly spotting Michael on his bed, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. 

“Oh,” you breathe, hastily closing the door as you let yourself into his room, “Michael.” You sigh, sitting beside him on his small twin bed and slinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“M’fine…” He says softly, dejectedly. 

“You are not,” you pull him to you, rubbing a hand over his bicep as you hold him closely, “No one would expect you to be, not after all that.” 

He merely nods and tucks his head into your neck, sniffling sadly as his blond hair tickles your chin, one arm wraps around you while he busies himself with plucking lightly at the hem of your dress, running his finger over the smooth satin seam. 

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of his head. 

“Not tonight,” his voice is muffled slightly against your collarbone as he speaks, “Please.” 

You nod, opting to stay quiet and simply hold him for the time being. 

You don’t know how much time passes but eventually, he seems to calm down, at least his shoulders stop trembling and he stops rubbing at his eyes and sniffling. 

Finally, once his breathing has evened out, you decide to speak up. 

“They don’t deserve you.” You murmur, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, your heart twisting when you see his beautiful blue eyes rimmed with red. 

“Love…” He sighs, ready to fight you on it. 

“That’s all I wanted to say,” you assure him quickly, “They don’t.” 

You hold his face in your hands gently, studying him with a soft smile. He really did look delectable in his suit, so smartly put together and polished. 

Michael must be feeling the same way, no doubt riding the small high that usually came after a solid rush of emotion. His eyes darken as he looks back at you, Adam’s apple bobbing enticingly in his throat as he swallows thickly. 

You don’t know who moves first, unable to find it within yourself to care as his warm lips slot perfectly against your own. 

A relieved groan sounds from his chest and his hands immediately come up to cup your waist, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively over the soft material of your dress as you shiver, already getting lost in his touch. 

“Mikey,” you murmur, biting into your lower lip as he kisses down across your jaw, his hands scrambling to pull you into his lap, “S-Should we?” Your voice trembles as he gently sucks at the sensitive spot on your neck, drawing your mind further and further from the party taking place downstairs. 

“Need you,” he rasps, unable to stop himself from smirking as you keen against him when he skirts his hands up your form to cup your breasts through your dress, your nipples already hard and wanting against the satin, “Just – I need you, love.”

He’s so desperate, you couldn’t say no and finally decide to throw caution to the wind. You smile triumphantly as you run your hands over his trim waist, tucking them under his jacket to get closer to him, savoring the feel of his warm skin even through the thin material of his button down. 

Finally, you push the suit jacket off his shoulders and, needing to feel him against you, waste no time hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt, yanking it out from under his trousers and belt before quickly dropping both to the floor. 

Apparently just as impatient, Michael chooses to simply push the thin straps of your dress off of your shoulders and growls deeply when your dress falls down your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. Without missing a beat, he pulls you closer to him, groaning as your core presses tightly against his still-clothed erection. As soon as your chest is level with his face, he mouths at the underside of your breast, cupping the other in his hand. He peers up at you through his glasses, already fogging up against his cheeks, as he wraps his pink lips around your nipple and gingerly sucks it into his mouth, groaning against your supple skin at the breathy moan you let out. 

You hold his head against your chest, fingers gripping tightly at his short hair as your head tilts back, small whimpers and whines escaping past your lips as you try your best to stay quiet. Your hips seem to move of their own accord, rocking against him as he worships your breasts. 

“Michael,” you whimper, your core clenching tightly when you look down and take in his flushed face. You press your lips against his again, frantically kissing him as your tongue invades his mouth, “What do you want?”

“You.” His reply is automatic, his hands kneading greedily at your tits as he stares up at you, bare chest already heaving. 

You can’t help but chuckle a little, pride blooming in your chest at the fact that he’s already this strung out. Nevertheless, you give a quick shake of your head, smirking when he whines impatiently. 

“How do you want me, Mikey?” 

The desperate look behind his eyes softens instantly, his pink lips parting enough to reveal the tiniest sliver of his front teeth. Somehow, he blushes more and just barely shakes his head at you, swallowing thickly like he always does when he’s flustered. 

“Can you be on top?” He asks quietly, blue eyes flitting between yours behind his gold-rimmed glasses, “I just – I don’t have it in me to be daddy tonight, love.” He confesses quickly.

You chuckle again, always impressed with him when he shows his more vulnerable side, and instantly you nod, cupping his soft cheeks again. 

“Of course I can do that,” you keep your voice soft, even the small kiss you give him is soft, “Lay back for me, yeah? I don’t wanna wait.”

  Nodding eagerly, he doesn’t waste time and leans back on the narrow bed, helping you climb atop him as he does. He groans appreciatively as you settle on his hips, licking his lips as he stares up at you. He watches as your breasts heave with every breath while his hands trace down over your hips to cup your ass. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” he murmurs, tugging your dress up over your bum before kneading the supple flesh, watching intently as you whimper above him, “So soft and pretty and fuck– fucking perfect.” He finishes with a growl, blue eyes rolling back when you rock down against him. 

Heat courses through your veins at his words and you hurry to undo his belt, the metal buckle tinkling softly in the quiet of his bedroom as you push it to the side, too frantic to bother to pull it off him entirely. Your fingers quickly find the button of his trousers and you all but yank them open the second you have the zipper undone, sighing happily as his hard cock bobs against his stomach, the head already flushed and steadily leaking. 

“Jesus Christ,” he groans, his back arching a little with the relief of his erection finally being freed, “Y’gonna ride me, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod with a smirk, wiggling on his lap as you situate yourself perfectly above his length, “You deserve to be taken care of, Michael.” You coo softly, bending forward a little to pull your lacy underwear to the side, not having the patience to properly remove them.

Your comment seems to have gone to your boyfriend’s head and you smirk when you feel his cock jump up, twitching against your center as a soft groan leaves him. You bite your lip when you grab his length, loving how warm it felt in your hand. Carefully, you position him at your dripping center and slot the head against your entrance. 

Both of you moan in unison as you sink down slowly, his thick length filling you completely as your hips finally press against his. 

“Goddammit,” he curses, roughly grabbing your ass as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself anchored even though he knows in the back of his mind it’s useless with how tightly you’re gripping him, “You feel so fucking good, pretty girl, fucking love this sweet little cunt.” 

His praises go straight to your core and you clench around him, somehow tighter, making him grunt underneath you. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you start moving your hips over him, using your thighs to push off of his lap before sinking back down, whining when you feel the head of his cock press perfectly against that delicious little spot inside you.

“You’re so good, Mikey, fuck,” you pant, fighting to keep your eyes open to savor each expression that crosses his flushed face, “Y-You feel so perfect, holy shit, everything about you is perfect.”

He groans deeply, lower lip trembling as he stares up at you in awe, brows furrowed as he takes in every inch of you. Blue eyes trace slowly over your form, lingering on your face before looking over your breasts. He swallows thickly as he pauses to watch them bounce tantalizingly, matching every one of your thrusts against him. Eventually, he looks down and moans softly, watching your slick pussy move over his length. 

“Yeah, princess?” He encourages, making you smile softly as you realize how badly he needs this, how badly he needs to be told how good he is. 

“Y-Yeah, shit,” you whimper, head spinning when he leans up to lick over one of your nipples, gently suckling at the bud as you continue, “You’re the best, Michael, fuck – best boyfriend, you’re so smart and s-so precious and f-funny and – and God!”

You practically squeal when his thumb comes down to rub at your clit, your eyes crossing at the sudden jolt of pleasure that washes over you. 

“I love you, holy fuck,” you huff, thighs burning as you move somehow quicker over him, “I love you, I love – oh, shit – everything about you.” Your voice is hoarse as you breathe through soft pants, practically squirming on top of him as your head spins every time he circles his thumb over you. 

“I love you too, princess,” he hums, pulling you down for a quick, desperate kiss, “You’re so damn good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you say quickly, swallowing as you pant above him, your heart hammering wildly in your chest, “You deserve everything, Michael, you’re so, so good.” 

He growls at that, lips parting as he watches you. He keeps circling a thumb over your clit but fans the rest of his fingers out, holding your hip more securely. You hardly have time to think before you squeak in surprise, gasping as he begins rutting his hips up into you, the tip of his cock hitting your sensitive spot at a dizzying speed. 

“O-Oh, shit!” You huff, eyes wide and wild, “Michael, Mikey, I –” You cut yourself off with a loud cry, too loud given the circumstances, but your brain whites out the second he reaches up and wraps a hand around your throat, not tightly enough to choke you but enough to hold you steady above him. 

“Y’close, love?” He pants, smirking when you quickly nod, “Fucking cum with me, princess, shit, you fucking deserve it.” He hisses through clenched teeth.

All you can do is obey, your fingernails digging harshly into his shoulders as your high finally washes over you. You freeze, tensing up above him as you cry out, uncaring for the party below as your cunt clenches tightly around his length, rhythmically milking him. 

“Shit, shit, fuck,” he grunts beneath you, eyes rolling back as he feels your walls contracting around his cock, drawing his own high from him as well, “Good girl, good girl.” He praises before finally cumming with a snarl. You whimper when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his thick spend. 

The two of you lay panting for a while, neither of you wanting to get up or break the spell of the safe little bubble you seem to be stuck in as you lazily press kisses against whatever bits of skin you can reach. 

Eventually, the sound of holiday music seems to float up to you from downstairs, along with the sounds of laughter and loud conversation. In the background, you can just barely make out the sound of wrapping paper tearing and taped boxes being pulled open. 

“Sounds like it’s time for gifts,” you muse, tracing shapes on Michael’s chest as he holds you to him, softening length still buried within you, “You wanna join them again?”

He hums softly and shakes his head no with a small smile before tilting his head to look at you, his glasses sitting slightly crooked on his nose as he studies your flushed face. One hand rubs soothingly over your back as he holds you tightly to him, relishing the way your soft skin feels against him.

“Don’t need any gifts from those entitled idiots,” he laughs softly and leans down just enough to press a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, “I have the most perfect gift right here with me already.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m @rae-11 @ms-morningstaarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolfdressedinlace @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[pseudowho]

Post-ShibuyaAU! Grey Nanami Kento...

🎄Christmas Headcanons

(help me find the Nanami artist in the banner, for crediting and thanks/permission!)

As an accompaniment to my story, Grey (link here); an AU where Nanami survives Shibuya exploration because I'm never going to be over his loss.

Merry Christmas, from Haitch, @silkspunweb and Greynami

Part 1 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Part 2 of Greynami Headcanons, link here

Warnings: Severe injury (burns, eye loss), PTSD, alcohol use, depression, light smut, angst, AU headcanons

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Before he met you:

AU!Nanami Kento who is barely holding himself together on the first Christmas after the Shibuya Incident, healed but not.

AU!Nanami Kento who spends most of his December evenings drinking himself to sleep, in a sleepy haze on the sofa while Christmas specials run quietly in the background.

AU!Nanami Kento who starts hunting Curses of his own jurisdiction, losing track of the days as he sweeps from case to case, kill to kill, nobody's servant.

AU!Nanami Kento who finds a family home and all of its corpses while he's on the hunt for a Curse; stepping over the bloodied threshold, shoes crunching on stained broken glass, he only realises it's Christmas Eve by the stockings hung out and the little broken bodies of their owners beneath them.

AU!Nanami Kento who cries himself to sleep.

AU!Nanami Kento who works through Christmas despite being ill, trying to numb his fear and loneliness, isolated but unable to ask for help.

AU!Nanami Kento who ends up in Shoko's care again; not taking care of himself, not sleeping, and not eating, so a cold grows into an infection and he welcomes in the New Year in a feverish daze in a Jujutsu High hospital bed.

AU!Nanami Kento who declines all visitors, the curtains pulled round his bed.

AU!Itadori Yuuji, Ino Takuma and Gojo Satoru, who leave Kento's gifts by the door for Shoko to collect.

After he meets you:

AU!Nanami Kento who would have planned to keep his head down and keep working, ignoring the Christmas lights and music...if not for you, so excited as the holiday approaches, making his heart swell.

AU!Nanami Kento who grasps your joy with both hands, clinging desperately to the hope for a happier life.

AU!Nanami Kento who lets you know he's ready to partake, by quietly sending his Christmas playlist to you. You never mention it, but begin a silent exchange of each adding new songs to the playlist. Kento hears you giggling in the kitchen as he adds a new one while brushing his teeth.

AU!Nanami Kento who looks at Jujutsu High, and all of its orphaned, abandoned or lonely children.

AU!Nanami Kento who kisses you back into the sofa cushions when you give him an unequivocal yes to his cautious Christmas Day Grand Plan proposal, with you, laughing and squeaking as he nuzzles with glee into your pyjama collar.

AU!Jujutsu High Staff and Kids, who begin to receive lovingly handwritten Christmas Day invitations from Kento and you.

AU!Nanami Kento who brushes off any offers of compensation from those who accept his invitation- and everybody accepts. Just bring yourself, he insists.

AU!Nanami Kento who doesn't take a mission for weeks; he's far too busy making lists, ensuring everyone attending has gifts to open, making recipe and aesthetic Pinterest boards and sharing them with you. Your evenings are spent toe-to-toe on the sofa, feet affectionately rubbing against each other's, discussing recipes and decorations.

AU!Nanami Kento whose love for you only grows when you throw yourself wholeheartedly into making preparations with him. You take up crochet; Kento becomes a plant dad, keen for his home to look more homely.

AU!Nanami Kento who sets his alarm early on Christmas morning, only to find you've beaten him to it and are already in the kitchen. He can't resist sneaking up on you, and you shriek in a puff of flour when he picks you up from behind, spinning you and popping you up onto the counter, scarred face blowing raspberries into your chest as you hit at him with a wooden spoon.

AU!Nanami Kento who starts the Christmas playlist, spinning you round the living room for just one song; there's just so much to do.

AU!Nanami Kento who bakes the gingerbread and pastries while you prepare the dinner, flicking flour and potato peelings at each other as you sing along (badly) to Christmas music.

AU!Nanami Kento who has a momentary pang of anxiety about his scars and eye patch, before you hand him the ugliest Christmas jumper he's ever seen in his life. He looks at you in disgust, but his face breaks into a smile as you step out in your matching jumper.

AU!Nanami Kento who struggles weakly as you pin him against the wall, pulling his cardigan off him and replacing it with the jumper. He struggles a little harder when you replace his eyepatch with a Christmassy one.

AU!Nanami Kento who can barely reach the Christmas tree light switch, for all the presents stacked around it.

AU!Nanami Kento who is overjoyed when people begin pouring through the door, shedding coats and scarves, bearing gifts of food, drinks, and board games, with Inumaki bringing his whole carefully packed games console.

AU!Nanami Kento whose home is suddenly, overwhelmingly full of love, laughter and merriment, watching you ensure everyone has drinks and snacks while he finishes dinner. Being in the kitchen makes it easier to hide that he's tearing up a bit.

AU!Nanami Kento whose dining table ends up too small to hold all of the people, so it holds the food instead, and the people find perches on chairs, the floor, footstools, in a giant Christmas picnic.

AU!Nanami Kento who is too full-up to move...but never too full to thrash Inumaki and Yuuji at Mario Kart.

AU!Nanami Kento who gives Maki some more burn ointment and a short one-armed squeeze, while she and Yuuta warm up the mulled wine in the kitchen.

AU!Nanami Kento who is just so bad at charades.

AU!Nanami Kento who almost weeps with laughter watching you, Nobara and Megumi play Twister after too much to drink.

AU!Nanami Kento who has left mistletoe above an unreasonable amount of doorways, starting a drunken cheek-kissing competition between the party attendees. Takuma Ino is winning, ambushing all passers-by in the bathroom doorway, male or female.

AU!Nanami Kento who was, of course, happy for Yoshino Junpei to bring his mother too; she spends the evening smoking and laughing by a garden firepit with Shoko, while Junpei, Yuuji and the others begin an irresponsible arm wrestling competition.

AU!Maki who wipes the floor with everyone.

AU!Nanami Kento who spirits you away to a dark, quiet nook, peeking round the corner before pulling the cupboard door closed, kissing you deeply and sinking his fingers into your hair to the distant sounds of revelry, which might as well be a hundred miles away.

AU!Nanami Kento who, to his surprise, welcomes Satoru as a late attendee. There is a quiet exchange at the door, before Kento allows Satoru to pull him in for a hug. Just one. It's Christmas after all.

AU!Nanami Kento who must accept many more hugs before the night is over, everyone overjoyed by their gifts.

AU!Nanami Kento who chokes up a little bit when he opens his first present from you; a tie, identical to his leopard print one lost at Shibuya. Found it on eBay, you insist as he pulls it on over his Christmas jumper to applause.

AU!Nanami Kento who waves everyone home with you, snuggled beside him under one arm, until the house is finally quiet and still, the love still remaining in every nook, every cobweb, every scrap of wrapping paper.

AU!Nanami Kento who curls up on the sofa with you, warm and whole under a blanket, until the kisses get deeper and hands start wandering-- let's get to bed, he insists, discarding your Christmas jumpers on the floor.

AU!Nanami Kento who has finished off Christmas in the very best way (in his humble opinion); in between your legs, gazing at you in unadulterated adoration as you whisper your love to him in the lamplight.

AU!Nanami Kento who reaches over you into his bedside drawer, just before sleep washes over you; just one more gift, he hushes behind your ear, and your heart leaps into your throat as his fingers unfold in front of you, to reveal a single tiny square box.

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Merry Christmas, you beautiful little sausages.

-- Haitch xxx

[panlight]

Interesting we tend to associate Twilight with autumn (at least that's the vibe in fandom and I feel it, too!) when most of the story actually takes place in . . . not autumn.

Most of the first book takes place in March, with a little at the beginning in January and the Prom in May. No autumn at all.

The second book starts in September, although technically still summer because autumn doesn't start until around the 21st, but then skips to January. Again the climax of the story happens in March.

Eclipse is all May/June.

First part of Breaking Dawn takes place in summer (August - first half of Sept) then there's a time skip to just before Christmas and the confrontation with the Volturi happens on New Year's Eve.

The most "autumn" part of the series are the blank page months in New Moon.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning

TW: Internalized Homophobia / Transcript / AN under the cut

AN: Here we are, just one more post before we conclude part 1 of this bittersweet story. As I've mentioned before, this story consists of three parts- Part One - Youth | Part Two - Uni | Part Three - Wife.

Transcript

Nancy Narrates: [As a treat for the few students who stayed behind, the nuns took us into to the city to shop on Christmas Eve]

[It was the first time Vanessa and I spent alone time together since I started dating Geoffrey]

[I’ve never been happier]

Nancy: [blushes] What?

Vanessa: [whispers] Do you feel like we’re being watched?

Nancy: Oh, Sister Agnes? [gulps] She’s right behind me, isn’t she?

Vanessa: [laughs] I’m serious! Let’s ditch the group.

Nancy: And risk getting a mark? Or worse, sent back home?

Vanessa: [shudders] Having to spend the rest of the break with my father? No thanks. Guess I’ll behave myself- for now anyway.

Vanessa: Sooo, what did you get your boyfriend for Christmas? A thong? One of those string thingies for his glasses?

Nancy: [snorts] I got him a broach.

Vanessa: You’re fucking with me, right?

Nancy: What? It was really nice, and very expensive.

Vanessa: Sure, if he’s your grandfather, Nancy!

Nancy: [sheepishly] I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I don’t know if I’m even doing this right. Shouldn't it...feel like something?

Vanessa: What do you mean?

Nancy: Holding hands and kissing. I thought it was suppose to feel like fireworks, like everything is burning and achy. I only felt it once...the first time, at that party.

Vanessa: Oh.. [looks away] Maybe he just needs practice...

Nancy: Maybe... Vanessa, I wa-

Vanessa: Hey! Let’s get some hot cocoa!

Nancy Narrates: [I wish she knew how much I missed when it was just me and her]

[No matter what, she will always be the sun to me]

Vanessa: So, are you going to tell me what’s in those bags?

Nancy: Maybe you should Guess?

Vanessa: Very funny, Blondie. I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts?

Nancy: [pouts] Does that mean you didn’t get me anything?

Vanessa: That’s because we said we weren’t when we were shopping! I could have gotten you something!

Nancy: [chuckles] It’s ok! You really didn’t have to get me anything. I just wanted to get you something I think you’ll like alot.

Nancy: Ta-da! I wanted to officially welcome you into the League of Blondes.

Vanessa: [cackling] No fucking way! This is the best Christmas gift ever, are you kidding!! [digs through bag] What are the scissors for?

Nancy: I was hoping you’d cut my hair. We can both have a new look.

Vanessa: You’re full of surprises, Landgraab. Let’s do it!

Vanessa: You’re being sooo quiet but your thoughts are sooo loud. What are you thinking about right now?

Nancy: Sorry. It’s nothing...

Vanessa: Tell me. Please.

Nancy: No, it’s fine.

Vanessa: Come onnn, please?

Nancy: What happened with Angela?

Vanessa: [huffs] Ah. I was wondering when you’d ask about that.

Nancy: Then why didn’t you just tell me about her?

Vanessa: There’s nothing to talk about. Pretty sure you heard the story.

Nancy: Sure, from everyone else but not from you. I want to hear your side.

Vanessa: [sighs] My side. We were best friends. We did everything together. I loved her a lot. All eyes were on us... so, I guess that’s how everyone noticed how close we were. People were saying things about us, and I was scared my father would find out and think I was like that. So, I turned on her. I called her names. I shunned her. I ruined her life...

Vanessa: It got so bad that she left the school. I never heard from her again. [voice cracks] You have to understand... if my father thought I liked girls, he would kill me. I could never let anyone think I’m like that! I’d rather they all thought I slept around with all the boys in school than think that. I had to do it...

Nancy: Do you?

Vanessa: [sobs] W-what?

Nancy Narrates: [My heart was racing. It just slipped out. And then I said it again, and that time, it felt like I was asking myself]

Nancy: Do you like girls?

Vanessa: [whimpers] I...no!! I’m not...I’m not a lesbian! I swear, Nancy! Please, believe me.

Nancy Narrates: [All that time...I had thought I was the one terrified of what it meant to love her. She was terrified of loving me too]

[This is what kissing should feel like]

Vanessa: [softly] Will you stay in my room tonight?

Nancy: Yes.

Nancy Narrates: [I had so many questions I wanted to ask her. So many things about myself I wanted to share, but there was one thing I wanted more]

[blondephil]

hello (one of the) resident phannie data analyst(s) here with some parasocial stats on dnp’s movie tastes! following: distribution of dan and phil's ratings overall, movies they each rated 5 stars, their lowest-rated movies, and the similarities + differences in their tastes

(lore moment: yes i am a data analyst in my real job. yes i surprised myself with wanting to do this in my spare time. but then i remembered when we read dracula in college (yes i was an english major) and i graphed like, how many times dracula was referred to as vampire versus monster or something. so i shouldn’t be surprised.

first up, their overall rating patterns and by ~special status~ (i.e., wall-e, kill bill, avatar, lmao, plus big hero 6 for the fun of it)

dan’s rated 304 movies and phil’s rated 305. both of them have mean and median ratings of 4 with min 1 and max 5.

both rated kill bill vols. 1 and 2 a 5. wall-e got a 4.5 from dan and a 4 from phil (phake phans). both gave avatar a 3.5. and big hero 6 3.5 (dan) and 4.5 (phil)

rating distribution:

i did analyses here by genre but i need to fix the output (i’m writing all of these based on the markdown document from my phone on the subway, but i need to fix the outputs and i don’t have my computer. so those are pending but there are other genre analyses that i could do & haven’t yet!)

while i was sorting through the data i got the impression that dan overall rated movies higher than phil. so, among movies that they've both rated, here's some information

number of movies dan rated higher than phil: 65

Empire Strikes Back, Blade Runner, Return of the Jedi, My Neighbor Totoro, Back to the Future II, Nightmare Before Christmas, Toy Story, Phantom Mence, Donnie Darko, Attack of the Clones, Finding Nemo, Oldboy, The Notebook, Batman Begins, Brokeback Mountain, WALL-E, (500) Days of Summer, Up, The Hangover, Drive, The Cabin in the Woods, The Avengers, The Dark Knight Rises, Life of Pi, Skyfall, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, Whiplash, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, Room, The Hateful Eight, The Force Awakens, Manchester by the Sea, Deadpool, La La Land, Moonlight, Rogue One, Call Me By Your Name, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2., Wonder Woman, Spider-Man: Homecoming, I, Tonya, Thor: Ragnorak, Phantom Thread, Roma, The Favourite, The Lighthouse, Toy Story 4, Midsommar, Ad Astra, Knives Out, Soul, The Green Knight, No Time to Die, Don't Look Up, Spider-Man: No Way Home, Turning Red, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, Thor: Love and Thunder, The Banshees of Inisherin, The Fabelmans, Glass Onion, Beau is Afraid, Barbie, Oppenheimer, Poor Things

number of movies phil rated higher than dan: 55

Star Wars (New Hope), Blair Witch Project, Requiem for a Dream, Memento, Ocean's Eleven, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Iron Man 2, Thor, Captain America: The First Avenger, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Moonrise Kingdom, Iron Man 3, Gravity, Prisoners, The Wolf of Wall Street, The Grand Budapest Hotel, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, The Imitation Game, Nightcrawler, John Wick, Gone Girl, Big Hero 6, Jurassic World, The Martian, The Revenant, Nocturnal Animals, Split, Get Out, Baby Driver, The Disaster Artist, Dunkirk, The Shape of Water, The Greatest Showman, The Last Jedi, Ready Player One, Crazy Rich Asians, A Star is Born, Rocketman, Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood, Joker, The Rise of Skywalker, The Invisible Man, A Quiet Place Part II, Greenland, Tenet, Malignant, Eternals, The Matrix Resurrections, Scream (2022), Nope, Prey, Talk to Me, Avatar: The Way of the Water, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

number of movies they rated the same: 99!

Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Se7en, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Spider-Man, Lost in Translation, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Mean Girls, Howl's Moving Castle, Children of Men, The Dark Knight, Pontypool, Inglourious Basterds, Avatar, Toy Story 3, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, Black Swan, The Social Network, 21 Jump Street, The Hunger Games, Silver Linings Playbook, The Conjuring, Snowpiercer, Her, Thor: The Dark World, The Hunger Games: Catching Fire, Boyhood, It Follows, Guardians of the Galaxy, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance), Interstellar, Ex Machina, The Witch, Avengers: The Age of Ultron, Mad Max: Fury Road, Inside Out, Ant-Man, Captain America: Civil War, Your Name., Arrival, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, mother!, It, Blade Runner 2049, Hereditary, Black Panther, Annihilation, A Quiet Place, Avengers: Infinity War, Captain Marvel, Us, Avengers: Endgame, Parasite, It Chapter Two, Marriage Story, Uncut Gems, 1917, Black Widow, The Suicide Squad, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, Dune, Last Night in Soho, The Batman (2022), Everything Everywhere All at Once, X, The Northman, Top Gun: Maverick, Bullet Train, Barbarian, Pearl, M3GAN, Dungeons and Dragongs: Honor Among Thieves, Evil Dead Rise, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3., No Hard Feelings, Saltburn, Priscilla, Society of the Snow, Saw X, Leave the World Behind

i didn't analyse this by genre or anything, but i could -- so if you're interested lmk!

the 5 movies with the most different ratings between dan and phil

- Iron Man 2 (dan: 2, phil 3.5)

- The Greatest Showman (d: 2.5, p: 4)

- Malignant (d: 3, p: 4.5)

- Scream (2022) (d: 2.5, p: 4)

- Beau is Afraid (d: 3, p: 1.5)

Interesting that even though dan has more higher rated movies, 4/5 of these ones phil rated higher.

next, their 5-star movies

dan's five stars: 80

Alien, Empire Strikes Back, ET, Blade Runner, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Stand by Me, The Grave of the Fireflies, My Neighbor Totoro, Back to the Future II, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Jurassic Park, Nightmare Before Christmas, Schindler's List, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Toy Story, Fargo, Scream, The Fifth Element, Hercules, Neon Genesis Evangelion, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Fight Club, Magnolia, The Emperor's New Groove, Donnie Darko, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Finding Nemo, Kill Bill, Oldboy, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Shaun of the Dead, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, Revenge of the Sith, Brokeback Mountain, No Country for Old Men, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The Tree of Life, 21 Jump Street, The Avengers, Life of Pi, Skyfall, Under the Skin, Whiplash, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, Sicario, The Hateful Eight, La La Land, Arrival, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, First Man, The Favourite, The Lighthouse, Parasite, Midsommar, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick, Oppenheimer, Poor Things

phil's five stars:

Star Wars (New Hope), Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Requiem for a Dream, Memento, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, 21 Jump Street, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, The Revenant, Arrival, Dunkirk, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, Parasite, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, The Shawshank Redemption, Gladiator, Little Miss Sunshine

overlap: 39

Alien, ET, Gremlins, Back to the Future, Top Gun, Aliens, Home Alone, Silence of the Lambs, Jurassic Park, Pulp Fiction, The Lion King, Scream, The Fifth Element, Titanic, The Truman Show, The Matrix, Magnolia, Spirited Away, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring, Kill Bill, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King, Kill Bill Vol. 2, Howl's Moving Castle, The Dark Knight, Inception, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, 21 Jump Street, Interstellar, Mad Max: Fury Road, Arrival, mother!, Blade Runner 2049, Avengers: Infinity War, Parasite, Uncut Gems, 1917, Dune, Everything Everywhere All at Once, Top Gun: Maverick

& their lowest rated movies...

dan: matrix resurrections (1) , thor: the dark world (1.5), the rise of skywalker (1.5)

phil: crimes of the future (1), attack of the clones (1.5), thor: the dark world (1.5), don’t look up (1.5), the matrix resurrections (1.5), doctor strange in the multiverse of madness (1.5), beau is afraid (1.5), black bear (1.5)

not even chris hemsworth could save thor the dark world, i guess (kat dennings, though…)

movies they logged on the same date:

note that this is like, non-exhaustive, because this is only based on their diaries that list the date. i think in reality they've watched most of these movies together. frequently dan logged a couple days after phil which aren’t shown here. procrastination queen

Pontypool, Eternals, The Northman, Nope, Barbarian, The Banshees of Inisherin, Glass Onion, The Super Mario Bros. Movie, Beau is Afraid, Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 3., Mission Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One, Saltburn, Poor Things, Priscilla, Saw X, Leave the World Behind

movies that one logged and not the other:

dan but not phil: 85

The Exorcist, Stand by Me, The Grave of the Fireflies, Beauty and the Beast, Aladdin, Home Alone 2, Schindler's List, Fargo, Romeo & Juliet, Hercules, Men in Black, Neon Genesis Evangelion, The Mummy, The 13th Warrior, Fight Club, The Emperor's New Groove, Moulin Rouge, Shrek, Legally Blonde, Monsters, Inc, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Scooby-Doo, 28 Days Later, Matrix Reloaded, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, School of Rock, Matrix Revolutions, Saw, Shaun of the Dead, Shrek 2, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Revenge of the Sith, The Devil Wears Prada, Borat, Casino Royale, No Country for Old Men, Death Proof, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, There Will Be Blood, Tropic Thunder, Slumdog Millionaire, Moon, District 9, Fantastic Mr. Fox, The King's Speech, We Need to Talk About Kevin, The Tree of Life, X-Men: First Class, Prometheus, Argo, Les Miserables, Django Unchained, World War Z, Pacific Rim, Under the Skin, 12 Years a Slave, American Hustle, The Babadook, The Lego Movie, x-Men: Days of Future Past, 22 Jump Street, Dawn of the Planet of the Apes, The Theory of Everything, Green Room, Sicario, Spotlight, The Big Short, 10 Cloverfield Lane, The Conjuring 2, Train to Busan, Hacksaw Ridge, Doctor Strange, Hidden Figures, Logan, You Were Never Really Here, Game Night, Isle of Dogs, First Man, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, Suspiria, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, Glass, Hustlers, Pig, Violent Night

phil but not dan: 86

Jaws, The Terminator, Beetlejuice, Die Hard, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Groundhog Day, The Shawshank Redemption, Leon: The Professional, The Usual Suspects, The Frighteners, The Sixth Sense, Being John Malkovich, American Beauty, The Green Mile, Gladiator, Catch Me if You Can, Elf, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Little Miss Sunshine, Pan's Labyrinth, The Prestige, Zodiac, Spider-Man 3, Iron Man, Juno, Lake Mungo, Twilight, Zombieland, Kick-Ass, Brave, Evil Dead, The Great Gatsby, Now You See Me, Monsters University, Man of Steel, About Time, Dallas Buyers Club, Edge of Tomorrow, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 1, The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2, The Boy, Raw, Finding Dory, Suicide Squad, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, John Wick: Chapter 2, Lady Bird, The Ritual, Happy Death Day, Deadpool 2, Ocean's 8, Ant-Man and The Wasp, Bird Box, Booksmart, Crawl, Spider-Man: Far From Home, The Platform, Black Bear, Palm Springs, The Empty Man, The Innocents, Titane, Old, Free Guy, The Black Phone, Fresh, Watcher, Bodies Bodies Bodies, Ambulance, Aftersun, Crimes of the Future, Fall, Bones and All, The Menu, Sanctuary, Do Revenge, Smile, Hellraiser (2022), Mr. Harrigan's Phone, Plane, Missing, Infinity Pool, Past Lives, Knock at the Cabin, Scream VI

i’m interested to see how this varies by genre!

miscellaneous non-statistical things that made me parasocially emotional and/or laugh during this process:

they watched nope together on christmas eve 2022 <3

dan rated moulin rouge a 5 <3 nature boy <3

he also rated shrek a 5. of course. (valid).

4.5 from dan and 4 from phil from the notebook

5 from danny for brokeback mountain <3 and a 4.5 from philly

cmbyn, yes, has its issues, but dan rated 4.5 and phil 4

the shape of water got a 4.5 from monsterfucker phil lester (dan gave it a 4)

surprisingly phil rated rocketman higher than dan! surprising because dan liked so many musicals

dan gave hustlers a 3.5. i don't know why i think this is funny, but i do. phil doesn't have it logged or rated, lmao.

a 4 (d) and a 3.5 (p) for barbie!

phil gave twilight a 3. lol.

phil also gave do revenge only a 3.5. tragique.

phil watched a LOT of horror alone in october 2022 (aka while dan was on tour). anyway he's just like me <3

[mavrintarou]

[Daddies in December] Suna Rintarou

Sorry, I slacked off the last couple of days. The holiday got super busy and honestly, I was going to write for Kakashi but it got toooooooo long and I felt like maybe it should be a story of its own lol. With a few days left in December, I'll try my best to share a few of my other favorite characters, of course, I couldn't leave my favorite boy out. Kept this short but sweet. Happy Christmas (wherever you are depending on the time zone)

Warning: fluff & small description of smut (can you believe I was able to keep it short)

Prequel

.

Every time Rin leaves the house, he has to stop by his Christmas tree and have a moment of silence with the new customized ornament Y/n put up.

They have been married for three years and have spent three years traveling and enjoying their lives as married couples. Both their careers are demanding and it is a cherished moment when they are allowed synchronized time together.

“Can’t wait to meet you,” he murmurs, tapping the ornament frame of an ultrasound picture. “I’ll see you and mommy soon.”

Getting in his sports car, a thought suddenly comes to mind, with a baby on the way, he’ll have to get a car that will be family friendly. He never thought of getting rid of his baby, but with a real baby on the way, he had never felt so excited to go to the car dealership.

But that task would have to wait as he needed to go to the airport to pick Y/n up.

It still makes Rin chuckle about how he had discovered that they were expecting.

Four months ago, they had decided they would try for a baby, to start a family after waiting for a few years. The following month, Y/n went off her birth control and they began trying to conceive.

Rin was a sucker for cumming inside Y/n. He believes he was the most excited when it came to trying to make a baby.

“Rin, enough…” Y/n whispered tiredly. “We don’t have to get pregnant on the first try…”

“I know, but just one more time,” he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, telling her the same thing two times ago. He rolled her onto her back, pushing her thighs wide. He watched his cum ooze out as he slowly stuffs his cock back into her pussy. He was going to fill her up once more.

Sure enough, it must have been that first initial try that made her pregnant right away.

Y/n was a commercial pilot with an odd schedule. Between their careers and schedules, there would be some moments where they wouldn’t see each other for almost five days.

Nonetheless, they made it work and were able to stay in contact with one another through video calls.

Each year at the beginning of December, they would decorate the Christmas trees together. Trees.

When they began dating, Rin had his tree at his place, the same with Y/n. Rin had his tree that stood 7 feet tall while Y/n had her small 5-foot tall tree. They made it their special tradition to exchange ornaments each year.

When they married, neither could agree on which tree they should keep and decided why not keep both?

Rin would decorate his tree while Y/n decorated her tree right beside each other in the designated corner of Rin’s condo. There was one year when Y/n had been upset with Rin and set her tree up on the opposite corner from their usual spot.

And the moment Y/n was off to work, Rin carried and moved her tree next to his, where it belonged.

In their two and half years of dating, he has collected two ornaments from Y/n and added three additional for their three years of marriage. This was going to be their sixth year of the tradition.

But with their conflicting schedule, Y/n was left to decorate her tree first.

Rin had been so exhausted and busy with wrapping up the season of his career that he had not gotten the opportunity to go to the store to pick out his ornament or decorate his tree. By the time he got around to it, it was the middle of December already.

He returned home with a small bag, this year he chose a brown stuffed teddy bear with a red heart on the belly. He was drawn to it and after searching for his options, he settled for that one for no particular reason. It was just calling his name.

Y/n had set up the lights and ribbons on his tree, all he had left to do was to put up the ornaments he received from her throughout the years. He glanced inside the container of each of the ornaments from throughout the years and smiled.

Y/n had told him that she put her new one up on his tree already and had to find it.

He looked all over the tree and couldn’t find the ornament that was labeled 2023 as they always marked the year on it.

Grabbing his phone, he called her.

But his call went to voicemail. He frowned, she should be at the hotel in Austria.

He searched thoroughly until something caught his eye…

Rin’s yellow eyes glowed with the Christmas lights when he found it.

It was sort of hidden further into the tree branches that he got down on one knee, being at eye level with Y/n’s 2023 ornament.

He inhales as he swallows the lump in his throat.

It all clicked in his head that she had placed at the same level as her belly.

His phone rang and he immediately picked it up when he saw Y/n’s picture on his screen.

Neither said a word and he sighed, letting out a chuckle. “Well, that’s one hell of a way of telling me we’re expecting.”

His heart relaxed when he heard her giggle, “finally, took you long enough.”

“I’m sorry, this season was crazy and I just got around to it.” He tapped on the video icon, “let me see you.”

Her face appeared on the screen and Rin felt himself falling in love once again. Had she always had this glow to her? How did he not realize she was pregnant?

“God, you’re so beautiful, I miss you like crazy.”

“Are you only saying that because it took you… sixteen days and eighteen hours and thirty-four minutes to finally discover it?” Her tone was teasing but Rin knew she was half serious. He knew she must have been frustrated that he had not seen it yet. That was his Y/n, she always found a creative way of surprising him and he loved it.

“No. You know that’s not it.” He wiped his face with his hands, still not believing the moment. He reached to touch the ornament, taking it off the branches. “I love it. It is the best one I’ve received from you.”

“Next year, we’ll have to get a baby tree.”

He nodded, with a bright smile. “Yes, we’ll need to get a tree for them.”

. . .

E/n: Some of these daddies' stories, I might branch off and write more... for sure, I think we need to know more about Rin's story hehe

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

[piningforstan]

Talking in Your Sleep

Part One | Part Two

Summary: You start to suspect that there’s more to Stan than what he tells you, at least while he’s awake. Asleep is a different story.

Pairings: Stanley Pines x GN! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Not really any? Let me know if I missed one

A/N: All Most of my oneshots are inspired by songs I guess😂 I’m thinking there might be 2 or 3 parts to this one

Stan lied.

To everyone.

Perhaps it was delusional to think that it didn’t apply to you. You, your reasoning was, were special. At the end of the day he crawled into bed next to you and pressed his cold toes to your calf, laughing as you squirmed away. You made grocery lists together and raided the aisles for food and supplies. It was you that he whispered his fears and hopes to.

So you thought nothing when he lied to the tourists, lied to the banks, lied to the man who “dropped” his wallet (Stan had pickpocketed it and you forced him to return it). You thought nothing when the lies bled into your daily life, domestic bliss disrupted with the occasional white lie. You told yourself: everyone does it.

It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

The room in the Shack that you stumbled upon on accident one day while looking for warmer blankets. “My brother’s room,” he told you. The brother, that you knew, was dead. You let it be, didn’t ask questions. But if it was his brother’s, why did all of the books say his name? Stanford Pines. Scrawled in margins and on the wall like a hasty addition. You didn’t have time to inspect it too closely, but the handwriting looked too neat to be Stan’s — tidy and cramped, unlike the sprawling letters you had seen him print on your paychecks.

STNLYMBLE his license plate read. It wasn’t his brother’s car, he affectionately retold stories of his time in the vehicle before. Maybe it was a tribute of some kind?

A million instances that accumulated in your mind like clutter in an attic, each one a box that you labeled and tucked away for later.

The first snow had just coated itself over Gravity Falls when the sleep talking started. You were roused awake by Stan twitching and muttering, the alarm clock blinking the time at you from the nightstand.

Too early. You rolled over, trying to grasp at the last remnants of your dream. It wasn’t much longer before he was muttering again, louder this time, hands clutching at the sheets and his face scrunching in unmistakable pain.

“Portal…help…” whatever disturbed his dreams made no sense to you here in the real world. You listened quietly. “I promise, Ma…I promise.”

Segments of promises and reassurances, bits of stories that you hadn’t heard before and couldn’t parse out yourself. It didn’t concern you at first, chalking it up to stress — about the Shack during the cold winter months, or maybe whatever work he did in the basement.

And then they became more specific. Unsettling.

“I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. An accident.” Sweat glistened on his forehead and wet the dark curls at his temples. The weirdest part is when he would whimper: “I’m sorry, Ford. I’m sorry. The portal…”

The portal, the portal, the portal — the one reoccurring connection to all of the sleep talking.

The dreams were worse during the holidays; Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. It was sometime after the beginning of the new year and you were nestled into one another on the couch when you asked him, “What’s the portal?”

Stan kept his gaze on the TV but his body stiffened beneath you. “What?”

“The portal.”

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

You don’t know why, but you sensed that you’ve crossed a line, somehow, said something wrong. In an effort to lighten the mood, you injected a hint of humor in your voice, “You’ve been sleep talking lately and you keep mentioning a portal. Is it a bad dream or something?”

“Or something,” Stan coolly replied.

A beat passed between you, tension palpable. The TV flickered off. Stan untangled himself from you without a word and started up the stairs. You stumbled after him.

“Stan, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, whirling on you, one hand braced on the rail. “I’m tired is all.”

You steeled yourself for an argument, aware of it approaching like a storm on the horizon. “For weeks — months — you’ve been having these awful dreams and talking about someone named Ford. And a portal.”

Sometimes you wake up in tears. Sometimes the pain in your voice is enough to make me nauseous. Sometimes you cry for forgiveness.

“S’probably nothin’.”

“Nothing? Stanford, I know something is wrong.”

You had both made it to the landing now, an old fashioned draw. Shadows thrown across his face, Stan possessed an unpredictable air, sharp and glinting like the blade of a knife in the dark. It slipped away just as quickly as the image had impressed upon you. Did you imagine it?

His features arranged into a semblance of shame, sheepish in nature. “I jus’ don’t wanna talk about it, alright? I’m sorry you had to deal with that. You ain’t gotta worry about me, doll.”

You wanted to press the matter. Wanted to know why he was being elusive and why his explanation rubbed you the wrong way.

But you didn’t.

A month or two passed. Spring lingered in the woods, melting snow and glimpses of greenery. You hadn’t mentioned the portal or the dreams again. Stan would go some nights without sleeping at all. You knew this only because you would wake up at night and roll over, expecting his warmth and finding the bed cold and empty.

“What are you doing in the basement?” You asked one day when you were feeling particularly brave. Stan was your kind-of boyfriend, after all, and you asserted to yourself that you had the right to know where he spent most of his time.

Stan, shoveling food in his mouth, shrugged and replied in a muffled tone, “Science stuff.”

He was off doing science stuff when you poked around the entirety of the Shack, searching for this alleged basement. How could there be no doors? You patrolled the perimeter of the building and spotted a cellar but it refused to budge. It unsettled you that couldn’t find an entry to the basement and hadn’t thought to even look before now.

“You wouldn’t want to see it, it’s boring,” he would tell you and you would believe him, his large hands roaming over your skin. “I can think of much more fun things to do up ‘ere.”

It worried at the back of your mind constantly, this idea that you were just another victim in Stan’s lies. Were you being dramatic?

The answer came to you in the dark of the night, moonlight spilling over the floor in silvery bars. Stan woke you as he staggered out of bed, muttering and bumping into the dresser that now hosted a mixture of your clothing. You sat up.

“Stan, honey? Where are you going?”

He never ceased his muttering to answer, persisting down the stairs in his sluggish manner. You grabbed a robe and threw it over yourself, following after him. After several more attempts to get his attention, you came to the conclusion that his sleep talking had now progressed into sleep walking. You knew you should’ve woken him but you curiously trailed behind, through the living room, the kitchen, and into the gift shop.

A blue glow from the vending machine washed over Stan as he ambled towards it, thick fingers pushing the buttons. Was he just hungry, sleepily venturing for a midnight snack? You wouldn’t put it past him. You reached out a hand, ready to rouse him from his trance, when a strange whirring emitted from the vending machine.

Shock rooted you in place as the machine didn’t release any food but rather swung open miraculously on its hinges, disclosing a corridor instead. Stan never even hesitated as he just continued on, broad shoulders and bedhead disappearing around the corner.

Rendered motionless for several moments, you finally decided to go after him. Where was he going? He could hurt himself.

You shuffled into the corridor. An uneasy feeling descended upon you like the legs of a spider, brushing against every inch of your skin. The chill cutting through your robe told you that you were being led further under ground, finally emptying into an enormous room.

And it wasn’t even the size of the room that surprised you, but rather the gigantic metal contraption crouched to one side. From what you could tell it wasn’t working. A huge, darkened eye stared at you from the middle of the rafters.

A window?

A portal.

Stan had ceased his dreamlike ambling to stand before this machine, gazing up at it like it might offer him some kind of absolution.

Your voice, small and afraid: “Stan?”

The trance broke, a taut rubber-band snapped in the way that his shoulders rounded and he glanced around in confusion. You could only imagine the look on your face as he turned to you.

Your name left his mouth, panicked. “What are you doing here?”

“Stan, what is that? Where are we?” Hysteria gripped you. “What’s going on?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Stan replied.

“Did you…did you make this? What is this?”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s go upstairs. I can explain all this. A’right?”

“No, Stan, I’m tired of all of the lies and the sneaking around. I’m staying here. And you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”

A defeated expression crossed his face. He went over to a panel of controls and leaned against it, hip and elbow. “Ya know I would never hurt ya on purpose, doll. I-I care about you.”

You wanted to soften. But you held yourself strong, heart fracturing. “Stan?”

“I guess I don’t know where to start.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then slowly began to unravel the story that you had pieced together over the time. Except, this time, details were changed— the truth, you realized, not the altered version he had given you.

Everything you thought you knew about this man, this man that you loved, disappeared and took on a new form. The childhood in New Jersey accompanied by a twin brother. His years as a drifter a result of his father kicking him out, not a pursuit of freedom and independence. Even the Mystery Shack, his name, wasn’t his.

Stanley Pines, he said.

Stanley. Not Stanford.

And his brother wasn’t dead but lost in time, and he was trying valiantly to find him again.

“All of this, all of the lies…are for him. It’s my fault that he’s gone and I need to fix my mistake.” Stan’s voice had taken on a strained edge, on the verge of tears. “I’ve made so many but this one…this one I’m close to fixing.”

“You come down here to work on a…portal,” you said, not sure what else to say.

“It’s the only way.” Stan took a step towards you, then thought better of it. “I-I didn’t wanna lie. But I had no idea how much you would mean to me. It was one lie an’ then another and I couldn’t take any of ‘em back. Not without you lookin’ at me like how you are now.”

“I trusted you,” you breathed.

“I’m still me.” He flinched. “Well, kinda. Besides the name and everything. That hasn’t changed. The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“What do you mean? Everything has changed,” you snapped, “Everything I know about you is a lie! I don’t even know what to think right now.” You shook your head as if to dislodge the torrent of thoughts. “You led me to believe that you were someone else. That your brother — who is actually you? — died. I grieved him with you, Stan. And you just lied to me again and again like it was nothing. How do I know I can trust you?”

“I’m tellin’ you, I didn’t want —”

“To lie? But lying is what you do best. It’s all clear to me now. I-I can’t do this. I need air.”

Your feet carried you without permission, away from the strange basement and the portal and Stan. Stanley. Not Stanford. You heard his heavy footsteps as he chased after you, one hand on your shoulder and spinning you to face him.

“Don’t go. Please. I can make this right.”

“No, you can’t.” You fought back tears as you looked at him, so heartbreakingly handsome and wounded and earnest. “I can’t be with someone who I don’t even know. Everything about us has been built on lies.”

He didn’t try and stop you as you stepped out of his grip and back into the gift shop, nor did he follow you. You shoved out onto the porch and into the greying, mushy snow, gathered in piles in the corners of the forest. You didn’t know where you were going, but you couldn’t be here.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hey guysss! A lot of people have been asking for me to make a challenge for a while now. I honestly didn’t want to, not because I’m against them or anything but because the law will be different for everyone. Sometimes, it feels like tumblr needs a reminder - you are the only person who knows what you need to do to succeed. I wish I could imprint this realization on everyone's minds. I’ve also gotten so manyyyy asks about things that genuinely just feel like your doubts repeating in your mind constantly so I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs bc y’all are spiraling really hard. I get it you want your desires for Christmas and new years. It’s okay take a breath, you're alive and will be okay.

Firstly: at the beginning I used to spend countless time spiraling into depression, constantly changing my methods every time I saw a new success story, and every time I found a new foolproof' tumblr method. Methods that were supposed to guarantee results in a day so when they didn’t I felt rlly useless. It was annoying, to say the least, and I don’t want to help others do the same thing, but really all I can do is reiterate what I always say and hope you apply it to everything!!

A lot of you guys wanted something that didn’t involve the void state, so that’s what this will revolve around! But feel free to make this void orientated if you desire, and I’ll also add a void section so all my babies can eat!

Ok so you’ve over consumed, you have dropped the void, and now have switched to just assuming and knowing that you would wake up with your dream life - embracing states. Great! At first, it will seem like you're doing nothing but you aren’t! For example, I knew I was dwelling in the state of wish fulfilled when I went to work without shedding tears, when I looked in the mirror and didn't think I was ugly because, well, I'm beautiful! I didn't care abt not performing well on a test because I could revise my past etc. this isn’t to say ignore the 3D: don’t do that, please try and make sure you’re safe and okay. But know life is malleable. Slowly, things that used to bother me—my parents, grades, anxiety, self-deprivation—started to fade away. Even though my dream life hadn't reflected in my 3D yet, I felt the switch. That's when I decided, I know what to do.

I also remember finding this cute website a long time ago that I want to share that summarizes it in such a great and simple way.

So Before I knew or understood what LOA was, I found this gem of an article on I am Love'- "How To Shift Into A State & Stay There". I think I have a post abt it somewhere on my blog but I’m too lazy to find it so here it is again.

Basically it explains that the essence of shifting into a desired state and staying there. What resonated with me was her choice to dwell in the state of knowing that her desires are hers, no matter what.

The way she used colloquial language made the content relatable and easy to understand. It's like having a conversation with a friend who's guiding you through hard concepts with “dumbed down” language because at the beginning states made 0 sense to me.

Posts like this really helped me particularly because when I discovered Neville, it required three attempts on my part to not only intellectually grasp his teachings, but also to truly comprehend him as a whole, given his non-contemporary speaking tbh.

I recommend it if you find yourself stuck or not really grasping the law yet (which is more than okay) but, if you're looking to understand the loa better or just learn more give this article a read.

There’s also a particular quote from Neville that really got me to dive into his work after finding this article and it was- “The being that you really are, descended to the weakness of the flesh, causing you to experience the state you are now in. Contemplate another state, and the same being who brought your present form into being will restore and make alive the other state, the state desired. This he will continue to do until his purpose is fulfilled. That purpose is to follow a certain pattern back into the unity of being. You see, in the beginning we were drafted. We did not volunteer to fall into these states. We were made subject into futility, not willingly but by the will of him who sent us. But when we return we will discover that we are the very being who subjected us. We are now the sons, destined to return as God the Father!”

Now that you understand and are ready to apply state, Here’s a routine I’ve created to hopefully help you guys! It is very simple and not time consuming at all.

Scripting and writing: I love writing and feeling like the author of my own story, literally bringing my creation to life. I would write when I felt like it. Whenever I wanted to dwell in my state, I would simply write, "I have my dream life." It's so simple, yet it embodies everything I need. If you’re more of a picture girl, use Pinterest instead. Or both if you prefer it doesn’t matter.

Edward arts' "I am creator meditation": Again, do this whenever you like it. It's one of the few meditations that didn't bore me to death and seemed to work with my ADHD. I also love reading, so I would read his pdf whenever I felt like it and take mental notes. Reading his work was a reminder I was doing everything right, it resonated with me very well.

During doubt and overstimulation: When things get overwhelming, close your eyes and let the emotions pass. They’re just thoughts! repeat the words "I am" until your heart returns to its normal rhythm. It's a simple yet powerful way to ground yourself amidst the whirlwind of emotions. And guess what? You can use this technique for doubt too! So the next time you're feeling overwhelmed, remember the power of "I am". It's a gentle reminder of your existence, your resilience, and your capability to be whatever you want despairs any emotional turmoil.

Thank god: (yourself!!) When reminded of your desires. Thank you god. When you see your desires, (eg:Pinterest, online or you’re just reminded) thank you god! When you see an image of your desires, thank you god! When you dream or think about your desires. Thank god! Always thank the person fulfilling it aka you ;)! If you’re religious just thank the god you actually follow.

Nightly reflections: At night, ask yourself , "What would I do if I woke up in my dream life right now?" repeat this question throughout the night. Then, imagine whatever scene you want. What would you do if you could not fail? What would you do if you had all the money in the world right now. What if you looked in the mirror and saw the most ethereal being and it’s just you? What about if you woke up in your dream house with your dream family and pets? This is inspired by one of the first shifting methods I created that helped me fulfill my imagination before I knew what that meant. When you’re ready to sleep just remind yourself it is done, and drift off into your desires.

As I've always said, I've been a great daydreamer. I knew exactly what I wanted my life to look and feel like. I envisioned my walk-in closet filled with luxurious outfits, waking up in my dream room on a soft mattress with my pets purring nearby. I saw the decor reflecting my personality in every corner of my large, and pretty room. I imagined walking into my bathroom, seeing all my cool Sephora products lined up for my skincare and shower routine. I love taking care of myself because I know I deserve it. I saw myself looking in the mirror, knowing I'm "that girl" who turns heads wherever she goes.I visualized going downstairs in my boujee dream house,and seeing my family stress-free, smiling, and eating well. I saw plans being made on my phone, my friends were excited to see and talk to me. I went to my kitchen, filled with expensive ingredients ready for me to cook meals for my loved ones - because I love cooking. I saw myself checking my bank account and seeing multiple seven figures in my savings, checking, and investment accounts and opportunities easily presenting myself to make more if I wanted. I saw myself running errands in my car, shopping, getting Starbucks, having expensive lunch with friends, and making a trip to Target. Despite the simplicity of the day, I would come home and be like, "Ugh, what a long day!"like that one khloe kardashian meme. What if all this happened today? Visualize and feel the scenes so clearly that it felt like it's already happening.. not just in your imagination.

Most importantly: Define the law for you! Stop parroting bloggers and intertwine your own beliefs with the law. The only principle of the law is that through persistence assumption will harden into a fact. Other than that anything goes except for facts that are wrong.

Here’s old notes I found in my phone lol just so you know what I mean by define the law for you: ignore the writing I was kinda dumb and new to the law 😭😭

Now this is for my void babies if you made it this far.

Read this post.

This is it copied bc the links are wonky sometimes

“My previous method is based on the persistent assumption, which a lot of people don’t know how to do right and it might take some time even for those who have the right self-concept and the mindset, so today I was in the process of manifesting this method.

And I was successful!

This method is for everyone. It’s the easiest Void method.

Do you know that you get into the Void state at night automatically? At that time the whole perceived world disappears for you. Every single perception and assumption you have disappears while your consciousness in the calm and natural Void state.

Use it to your advantage. Now that you know about the Void that you enter when you sleep, the perfect state to manifest anything that you wish to perceive, with no “resistance”, no illusions of annoying solid things around, you only need to remember your scripted starting point in your DR and practice watching it all coming out of the Void.

Practice that scene with your eyes closed, say to yourself:”That is what I perceive. Next time I’m in the Void, I’ll experience this”. You won’t even need to be fully aware of yourself that way when you get into the Void while you are asleep. Your subconscious would do all the work as it now would have the instruction and a clear image of you expecting it.

Personal experience: as I was receiving information on this method, I almost stepped into my DR! I wasn’t even in the absolute void state, I was only creating the scene for this method and I felt it materialise with my senses!

I have great feeling that it’s going to give fast results for others! Try it, teach your subconscious what it needs to bring forth while in the Void, let it do your work for you!”

Lastly, I’m gonna talk abt my beliefs real quick bc the fear of shifting vs manifesting makes me sad for y’all. I understand you don’t wanna leave behind the people you love and that’s not fear to feel ashamed of having! I personally hate the npc mindset a lot of have people have adopted. The only thing we know for sure is that assumptions create realities, and consciousness is the real reality. Everything else boils down to assumptions, except for principles. For example, shifting is not lucid dreaming, even if you assume it to be. That is the principle. I’m just going to copy what I told my mutal bc I’m lazy and need to finish Christmas stuff 😭😭 but Our imagination and the 4D realm are products of our consciousness, which is indeed real. Our view of reality is shaped by our consciousness, since we can't experience everything all at once.

Unless, of course, you shift into a super omnipotent god. Even then, you’d probably still struggle with the concept of infinity because, well, infinity is infinite. And it’s constantly a never exnding expansion. As humans, we're finite beings, and our understanding of the infinite is naturally limited. Because you can’t and won’t ever experience everything at once, infinity is always expanding. Our awareness can be thought of as fragments of consciousness; it's like being a drop of water in a massive ocean. Even though our perception is limited, the infinite is always there, always existing. We simply adjust our awareness to perceive this infinite reality.

And through our consciousness, we are able to tap into other realities or 'multiverses', which give us a broader understanding of existence. This exploration of consciousness and the multiverse is a significant part of my journey into the world of manifestation.

The law of consciousness explains why, when you "shift" or change your perspective, you don't physically move. It's all about altering your state of awareness. This is also why time doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. You can become aware of any time or day you want, as long as you choose to be aware of it. It's like having a mental time machine. This law is why infinite universes exist. As long as you can be aware of it, you can assume and embody the state of that person. Whether that's someone with a billion dollars on Earth, or a person who lives in the Attack on Titan world, it's all about your awareness.Our awareness is just a fragment of the larger consciousness – hence the idea of the multiverse. Each universe is a different fragment, a different state of awareness. And we have the power to “shift” into any of these states, therefore shifting into any of these universes.

I’m telling you this bc there’s no need to be afraid of manifesting or being in a reality with robotic versions of the people you love. Ariana grande and Marilyn Monroe for example talk about loa without acknowledging it and we see their success. Neville Goddard and his followers saw each other’s manifestions and I manifest for my friends and they mnaifest for me.

Take a deep breath and let go of the tik tok clone mindsets y’all have they don’t exist. You can manifest and assume anything you want in your imagination. Y’all literally want to manifest things like millions of dollars, revising deaths, living in new countries, having immorality in your waiting rooms, and never aging which is all possible of course. So be for real, why assume and know that you can achieve all that, but it won't manifest exactly how you want? I've also wondered about what happens to the "old version" of people when they manifest their dream life. As far as I'm concerned, they dont exist because you choose not to be aware of them.

I really want to talk about this too, as I've received similar questions and, oh my god, I thought I was alone. I've always been a bit delusional and lived in my head, but when I became conscious of the law, did anyone else feel a sense of self-embarrassment? I don't know what that was, but I'd genuinely feel my soul wanting to throw up envisioning my desires that aren't mine, even though I've always been a daydreamer. It's kind of like when you feel you can't have them or it's strange to envision yourself with something you can't have, so you just purge yourself. 😭

I was thinking back to why that happened and laughing at myself because we need to be serious right now. Why are you getting sick by your own mind? Imagine if Van Gogh, anytime he pulled out a canvas and held a brush, was jump-scared by the brush. Picture him holding out the brush and just staring at the canvas crying because "well, the painting is going to suck 😐," "I don't know what to paint☹️☹️," "I already know it won't be like what I envision in my head 😡😡." Like, bro, the canvas is blank, just fucking paint. That’s why I really like his quote that's like...

“If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.” So If you’re scared of failing, if you’re scared of your desires, or scared of how it will come to fruition, for that reason alone is more so to and manifest it anyways.

But happy holidays guys! make some tea, scroll through Pinterest, read a good book and watch some Christmas films and remember if you can imagine/think your desires you can embody them bc where are you getting it from??

Here are some helpful documents I have read plus a cute vid I saw on insta reels : (let me know if the links are being weird)

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[togrowoldinv]

Meet Me At Midnight

College!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You invite Wanda to spend the holidays with you. Will your true feelings for each other be revealed?

Note: I can’t believe it’s almost new years. Enjoy this Wanda fic!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’ve casually known Wanda Maximoff for a few months now. You met her in your literature lecture. The girl seemed mysterious, but not in an off-putting way.

Wanda was assigned to be your project partner for the semester. Like typical college students, you two exchanged numbers that first day but didn’t think about working on the project until late in the semester.

She sent you a text a few weeks ago and the two of you began working on the final project. Upon working with her, you realized just how amazing she is. Her and her brother moved to America for college, that explains her enchanting accent.

By the end of the semester, you completed the project and presented it to your class. Wanda suggested celebrating your successful work with dinner. You agreed, and the two of you went out for dinner and drinks that night.

Somehow, the holidays were brought up, and Wanda told you she was not able to go home to celebrate. You asked her to come with you to your family Christmas. She was so excited to see a true American Christmas, and to not be alone.

It went by quickly. Your family took Wanda in and made her feel at home. The girl loved it so much that she decided to stay for the New Year’s celebrations as well. You take her to the grocery store with you to get last minute needs for the holiday.

“Wanda, do you want red or white wine for tonight?” You ask her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wanda says. She leans over you and places her chin on your shoulder. You like how affectionate she is with you. “Whatever you like best.”

“Come on, Max, you gotta pick some food and drinks out too, or my mom will be mad at me,” you tell her.

“Fineee,” she says cutely. “White. And can we get some of those chips I liked the other day?”

“Doritos?” You clarify.

“Yes, them!” Wanda says.

“We can get every flavor.”

Wanda smiles and you put the white wine in the cart before moving to the chip aisle. You stay true to your word and get every flavor of Doritos, even the taco ones. Wanda also picks out some candy and other snacks.

You buy decorations for New Years so that you can go all out for Wanda. You don’t typically go this big, but you want her first real celebration to be a special one. Streamers, hats, glasses with the year on them, and all of your dishware needs are in your cart by the time you leave the store.

Wanda is buzzing with excitement when you arrive home and begin to decorate. Your family helps make the food while you decorate with the girl. You stand on a chair and hang streamers from the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t this have been easier if I got up there?” Wanda asks. “I am taller.”

“No, I got this,” you say, but just as you do you lose your balance on the chair from standing on your tippy toes.

You begin to fall backwards but Wanda’s hands on your hips stop you. She helps you stand upright again.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you reply. Her hands remain on your hips, and she pats them softly, a silent gesture for you to get down from the chair.

“Let me finish for you,” Wanda says. She steps up in the chair.

You can’t help but watch as her sweater rises up as she hangs the decorations. Her perfect frame is distracting. You almost don’t hear her when she asks for a hand to help her down. Her soft hand rests in yours even after she is back on the ground.

“This looks amazing,” Wanda says.

“It really does,” you agree.

The two of you get swept away by your mother to help prepare food for the party. Time flies by and soon the guests begin to arrive. It’s mostly family friends, but a few of your friends from college are here too.

Wanda enjoys meeting everyone and hearing stories about you. You try to keep her away from your gossiping mother’s friends but it’s no use. They reel her in and tell her all about your child and teenage years.

“She seems great,” a voice interrupts your gaze on Wanda.

“Natasha, so good to see you!” You tell the woman.

“You too, y/n,” Nat says. She hugs you. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” you reply. “Just a friend from college.”

“Sure,” Nat says. “That’s why she’s staring daggers through me.”

“What?” You turn to see Wanda is staring at you and Natasha. There’s a look on her face that isn’t quite readable, but you can tell she’s unhappy.

You decide to walk to Wanda and steal her away from the gossipers.

“Hey, there’s some more people I’d like for you to meet,” you tell her. She nods and follows you back to where Nat is standing. “This is Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha speaks to Wanda.

“You too,” Wanda replies a bit grumpily.

Another woman walks up behind Nat and wraps her arms around her. Wanda looks at you confusedly.

“And just in time Maria shows up,” you joke.

“I’ve been here,” she replies. “Just got a little distracted by the fondue.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Nat asks.

“Maria, this is Wanda,” you say.

“Great to meet you, Wanda,” Maria says. “You’ve got a good one here.”

“Oh, it’s not-” you begin but Wanda interrupts you.

“Thank you,” she says, placing her hand in yours.

Nat and Maria get pulled away, leaving you and Wanda standing there together. She still has her hand in yours.

“Are you alright?” You ask Wanda.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She drops your hand.

“Okay. Let’s just go get a drink,” you suggest.

For the rest of the night, Wanda seems to have shaken off her weird jealousy of you and Natasha. Or really you and anyone that’s not her. But when it’s five minutes until midnight you can’t find her anywhere.

“Wanda?” You call up the stairs, thinking maybe she went to your room. You get no response but go upstairs anyways.

She is sitting on your bed when you arrive. Four minutes until midnight.

“Hey, what are you doing up here? The ball is about to drop,” you say.

“I just needed a minute,” she says.

“Right, okay. I’m sorry. I know that my family and friends can be a lot.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “Well it is, but it’s not.”

You close the door behind you and sit next to Wanda on your bed.

“You’re missing home?” You ask.

“I always miss home,” Wanda replies. “But being with you here has felt kind of like home.”

“I’m so glad,” you say. You glance at your watch. Three minutes until midnight. “What’s bothering you then?”

“Do you like me?” Wanda blurts out unexpectedly.

“What? Of course I like you, Wanda,” you say.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Do you like me like me?”

“Oh.”

“Because well, I like you,” Wanda says. “And what’s bothering me is that everyone else seems to really like you too.”

“What like Nat?” You ask. She nods. “That never happened, Wanda. We’re friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her.”

“Well, you have eyes,” you try to joke, but Wanda doesn’t smile. “She is a friend.”

“And so am I,” Wanda says with a frown on her perfect lips.

“Yeah, but if you want to be more than friends then we could try?”

“Really?” Wanda asks.

“Really,” you say. “You’re so beautiful, Wanda. And so smart, cool, funny, and passionate.”

Wanda smiles the most perfect smile you’ve ever seen. You hold her cheek in your hand and brush her hair back with the other. She leans in closer.

“Wait,” you whisper. You hold up your watch. “Count with me. Ten, nine, eight…”

You count all the way down to one and Wanda kisses you as soon as she can. She practically straddles your lap as she deepens the kiss. It’s everything.

“Wanda,” you say softly, pulling away to breathe. “We need to go celebrate with everyone.”

“But I want to kiss you,” Wanda pouts.

You kiss her pouty lips and almost lose your will to stop.

“We can do this all we want later,” you tell her. “Right now it’s time to celebrate the new year with everyone. What do you say?”

“You promise we’ll do this again?” She asks.

“And again. And again. And again,” you reply, leaving a kiss to each of her cheeks and her forehead with your words.

Wanda smiles and lets you take her hand. You two walk downstairs together and spend the rest of the night celebrating New Years. It’s the best beginning to a year either of you have ever had.

You hope for many many more with Wanda by your side.