#and if christmas is a hard day for you i am sending you the biggest hug 🫂🫂

[bumbling-kiddo]

i did some festive coloring last night 🍪🎄 merry christmas if you celebrate it, hope u all have a good day!!

[hotchfiles]

smells like roses — aaron hotchner x gn!reader

WHUMPTOBER ENTRY FOR @tobias-hankel; prompts: suicide/attempted suicide, "you can't save everyone"

Aaron thinks you might be mad at him, so he tries to surprise you with flowers and a cozy night in. He finds your dead body instead.

Wordcount: 1,094

Content Headsup: SUICIDE. Main character death (apparently I'm never stopping the always kills the reader allegations). The suicide is not graphically described, reader is found inside a bathtub but I didn't write in the method, the state of the body (aside from dead, heavy and drenched), so it isn't THAT bad. This is pretty much just Aaron's POV to the day he finds you dead, so HEAVY ANGST, but not graphic. It is not implied that Aaron was at fault for it, the reasons behind the suicide are never discussed, reader is just depressed. Also, no dialogue and no use of y/n.

You can’t save everyone.

You can’t save everyone.

You can’t save everyone.

Those are the words flowing around his head. He can’t save everyone and that has always been his biggest fear. His Achilles heel.

He can’t save everyone and worse than that: Aaron couldn’t save you.

It’s his curse, really. Falling for someone only to inevitably lose them. It has happened every single time before: Haley, Kate, Haley again. Beth moves to Hong Kong and he meets you. He should’ve realized sooner that he wasn’t born to love or be loved for long.

Still, when you first smiled at him that one Monday morning back in June two years ago he knew he had to try. He had no choice but to love you.

And he did it so easily, made an effort to show you what he effortlessly felt for you from the beginning, as if he was never hurt before, like a teenage boy with a crush on someone pretty.

First time he saw you taking pills Aaron didn’t question it, thought to himself they were probably vitamins or something unimportant like that. Then he witnessed the panic in your eyes when you thought you had run out of it before your appointment for the prescriptions.

Antidepressants. He felt the guilt of not noticing it wash over him like a tsunami, his chest tight, his heart heavy. A profiler and your boyfriend and he missed all clues hidden under your smiles and your loving touch.

Aaron made sure not to let guilt paralyze him, calming you down, showing you no judgment and helping you find the missing pills you still had.

He acts normal on your good days but doubles the way he cares for you on your bad ones, even when busy on a case he calls, reassures you of his love, sends you food and asks to see you eating it.

He thought that would be enough. You were medicated and seemed effortlessly happy most of the time. Aaron really believed that and being by your side would be enough.

He worried. Worried about your well being. Made sure you wouldn’t starve yourself or forget to care for yourself on bad days. But he never worried about having to try to save you and failing to do so. He never laid awake thinking about finding your lifeless body in your bathtub. He wasn’t prepared for this.

The day started as it always does for Aaron, so early it can’t be considered bright. 5 AM on the dot, fresh coffee being made by the smart coffee maker you got him for Christmas last year the only noise heard as he quietly enters his boy’s bedroom. It’s too early and he feels sorry for Jack, but he has to be taken to his aunt’s before Aaron heads to the BAU.

Jessica’s car is at a mechanic and will only be done after lunch, it will be easier for her to take the metro with Jack this way.

Normal issues of a normal day. The worst he imagined could happen was an impromptu case, a flat tire even. If only he knew how his day would end.

It’s 10 AM and he should’ve paid more attention to the fact you haven’t texted him good morning. No breakfast pictures, no horoscope screenshots. But you’ve been working so hard and have been so obviously tired that he’s glad you’re sleeping in. You might be more of a workaholic than he is and Aaron just wants you to enjoy resting for a bit.

By noon he is swamped, drowning in paperwork and consultations that need his full attention, and Aaron knows he’s not at fault for doing his job but he wishes he did more than just snap a picture of his salad, he wishes he noticed it sooner, how you didn’t react to it, how he still didn’t know what you had for breakfast or what the day held for Scorpios.

8 PM he finishes work and it dawns on him how absent he was and how silent you’ve being. He curses under his breath, silent treatment was never a thing for the both of you so he assumes you must be extremely mad and Aaron learned from past experiences that he’s not the best at noticing subtlety when it comes to his love life. Maybe it was something he did or said, maybe it’s something he forgot.

Since meeting you he has been trying not to associate flowers with apologies, buying you singles or full bouquets almost every week, but still, that’s the first thing he does after leaving work, however mad you are, flowers and a surprise visit should be enough to melt it away.

He’s happy, annoyingly so if he thinks back, he’s not worried, it’s always easy to solve problems with you and he’s excited to see you, it wasn’t on his plans and that makes him extra giddy, a night surrounded by your scent and your voice is all he needs to feel recharged.

Aaron texts Jess to ask her to keep Jack for the night, tells her he can pick him up if she needs to, but he’s lucky she always seems to be prepared when he needs her, which is often, but less now with your help.

Maybe it would be better if he was worried. It would be less painful, less shocking.

Maybe if Aaron didn’t think you were just asleep when he turned the keys you gave him only to find a dark silent living room, the pained shriek that left his throat after following the bathroom light wouldn’t have been so loud.

But he didn’t worry. So when the bathtub overflown water hit his shoes, the flowers hit the floor, desperately let go as he yelled your name, his arms flying quickly to your cold body, trying to get you out as much as hugging you.

There’s something to be said about lifting dead drenched weight, especially over wet tiles. He slips to his knees before being able to, ends up dragging you out with him.

Aaron does CPR, the paramedics called by the neighbors don’t hide the pity in their eyes when they arrive and see him still trying.

Your name a begging sound, hurting more than the sore muscles of his arms from trying to lift and CPR a dead body.

The wet and stepped on roses leave a lingering scent, one he won’t ever forget.

He’s been trying not to associate flowers with apologies, and now they are forever linked, intertwined with death. Yours.

[janahanooo]

Christmas time with the TWST boys cus it's december and I can't wait.

Riddle: Trey, Cater... report.

Trey: *sigh* "Operation get Yuu to join us on christmas" is going well. Ace and Deuce has been spending time with them and have talked about christmas around them multiple times. I think a few more days and they will joins us.

Cater: As for the decoration, you don't have to worry! Cay-cay got everything undercontrol! I got the boys to bring a huge tree and the fireplace is also finely decarated!

Riddle: good, good to hear. Soon, Yuu will see that Heartsablye's christmas is the best out of all the dorms.

Ruggie: C'mon Leona! Give more thoughts into it! You're rich! Your holidays must have been extravagant!

Leona: yeah I rather not remember those times. Look, I really don't care about this whole thing. Do what you want.

Jack: uh.. dormlead?

Leona: what?

Jack: The whole heartsabllye dorm os bragging that Yuu will join them for this years christmas...

Leona:

Leona: Ruggie, i hive you as much money you need to make this years christmas as extra as you want. I need to make a phone call...

Ruggie: hehe! Who you calling?

Leona: *smirk* a certain pipsquick

Azul: this months profits are high as expected. How I love holiday season *chuckle*

Jade: fufu~ I can imagine how happy you will be once you hear this wonderfull news.

Floyd: yeah! Azul, shrimpy will be celebrating this years holiday with one of the dorms! Ne ne, can we invite them?

Azul: oh? How nice...

Azul:

Azul: Jade, Floyd. Make sure its our dorm.

Jade & Floyd: On it boss/aye aye boss!

Kalim: Come on Jamil! It's christmas!

Jamil: yeah... more work for me. How exciting.

Kalim: don't be like that, I promised I will help you with the feast this year!

Jamil: I rather not have you in the kitchen. You might poison your own food...

Kalim: *sad puppy noises* aw..

Scarabia student A: Dormlead! Do you plan on inviting Yuu? I heard that they have no place to celebrate it and that they will join one of the dorms!

Kalim: OOOH! Did you hear that Jamil?! Jamil? Huh, he was here a minute ago...

Jamil: *in the kitchen* Alright everyone! We have to make the best feast that has ever happened in twisted wonderland!

Vil: Epel. Your posture.

Epel: ughhhh, my back hurts.... can we stop now?

Vil: no, everything has to be perfect. Do you want the prefect to join us? Then work hard for it. Rook.

Rook: Oui, rui de poison?

Vil: did you gathered the information I asked?

Rook: but of course. The heart duo is as of right now working on persuing Yuu to join them. The savannaclaw dorm is prepairng their own weapon. The leech twins are lurking around them, always ready to snatch them. Kalim is prepairing the biggest feast in history. The ingendhyde dorm is quiet as always, but they do plan to invite them. As for the diasomnia dorm... I'm sorry I couldn't gather information there.

Vil: hmm, this is enough. *turns back to epel and the others*

Vil: alright, from the beggining. 1, 2, and

The choir: *singing christmas specials*

Idia: okay, I sended the invitation. Not that I believe they would come here...

Ortho: come on brother! Believe in yourself a little!

Idia: Ortho... every other dorm has something special, I can confidently say that we have nothing worth seeing. And also, I'm just happy that they send us a christmas card.

Ortho: *sigh* as you wish brother. But I will still personaly invite them here. It's worth a shot you know?

Malleus: absolutely not. I won't have you poison the child of man.

Lilia: poison? I would never! I just cooked a special dish of mine! How could you say that! I thought you liked my cooking!

Silver: father... please, leave the kitchen before Malleus burns it down. *stands between them*

Sebek: *runs in* WAKA-SAMA! The human! T-they have decided!

The others: !!!

Malleus: hurry and tell me, which dorm did they choose?

Yuu: A- ACHOO! *sniff* ugh... I better not get sick now.

Grim: yeah you better not! Because then what am I suppose to do with these morons in our dorm?!

Yuu: I really don't understand why was everyone so sad when I said that I invited everyone to our dorm to celebrate together.... do you know?

Grim: no? How would I know???

[irondadfics]

Holiday Rec List.

Hi everyone, this is long overdue, but I promised so here's to starting off the New Year right with some fics for you to check out. I didn't add any descriptions, so check them out! Some are series, some require you to be logged into your ao3. These are in no particular order. You are sure to find something you will love. We've linked the authors where possible so be sure to check out their other works, encourage (not pressure) them to finish their in progress works please or even write new works! Trust me! Happy New Year!

So many awesome stories did not make this list because I didn't want to overwhelm anyone, but many are already in mind for another special rec list!.

I love you more than anything (bio dad au) - iron_spider

But Only Hope and Sorrows End - iron_spider

Lazarus, come forth - iron_spider

Four times peter cheated death (and one time he didn't) - iron_spider

A Life of Crime - intothestorm

Up Came the Sun - WhimsicalEthnographies

Hey Ragazzo - WhimsicalEthnographies

Becoming Belonging - sahiya

A Soft Place to Land - sahiya

The Third Option - Uncertainty_Principle

Men of Iron - Spdrmain

The Little Things - soupshep

First Wednesday of March - soupshep

You'll Always Get There First - soupshep

The Time Traveler's Mentor - Diaz_evan

Three Weeks, Two Days, Seven Hours - soupshep

Never Go Home Alone - Orphan Account

Here's to all New Beginnings - Gruoch Orphan Account

Even Children Get Older - LittleMissAgrafina

A Snapshot Moment - soupshep

Hold Your Breath While You're Safe - Gruoch Orphan Account

The Hearth - Sagemb

Everyday Superhero Verse - Stoneage_woman

College Applications: The Biggest Meme - Sagemb

The Long Way Back - Gruoch Orphan Account

Allston Christmas - Gruoch Orphan Account

Hard to Love - Groo_ock Orphan Account

Aperture - Gruoch Orphan Account

Holdfasts - Gruoch Orphan Account

I Am One of You Forever - Gruoch Orphan Account

Neon Liar (Hiding in Plain Sight) - isaDanCurtisproduction

Constant Internal [Spider] Screaming: Semi-Connected Scenes from a Graduating Senior’s Life - isaDanCurtisproduction

As Luck Would Have It - blondsak, whumphoarder

Poison Apple - whumphoarder

Inevitable - imgoingtocrash

Knowing (of everything she doesn't) - imgoingtocrash

287 Miles - imgoingtocrash

Out of Darkness - StarryKnight09

I Would Lay My Armour Down - losingmymindtonight

Webcams and Webshooters - losingmymindtonight

Call You Home - Madelinedear

The Guardian - Emily_F6

Survivor's Guide to The Galaxy - fanfic1892

A Little Late On the Blood Work - Pixiemage

With Kind Regards and Completely Serious Warning - jennylarner

The Chain - RayRox360

Was that a Star Wars reference, Dr. Stark? - Jen27ny

You Are My Sunshine - M4rmalade

I told you I had issues - Bergen

PS: If you make it here then awesome sauce! Send us your fave fics to read as well, you never know they may end up on a special rec list someday! No promises though! Thank you all! Have an awesome 2024 everyone!

[tortoisebore]

Fic recs?? It’s so hard to find good stuff😩

i’ll list a few of my recent favs, but first i’ll give u some tips & secrets ab how i find new fics 🥰

my first & biggest source—i snoop on everyone’s bookmarks. like everyone. if i read a fic i liked, i check that author’s bookmarks. if someone comments on my fic, i check their bookmarks. if i come across someone talking ab fic on the tl, i go to their ao3 and check their bookmarks. i’ve found so many great fics just by snooping on what other ppl are reading 🫶

my second most-used tactic: searching for tags & using filters. if i’m looking for something specific, i search the tags/pairings i want and make sure to exclude things i don’t want (i.e. i don’t usually want to read jegulus, so i make sure to exclude that pairing in my results. same goes w tags/ratings/warnings u don’t want). i’ll sort by date, kudos, and hits separately, and add anything that sounds interesting to my bookmarks to sort through later. ao3 really has the best filtering and tagging system out there, but a lot of times we don’t use it to its full capacity! if you want to read something specific there’s a very good chance someone has written it, you just need to search and filter your results so that you’re not just seeing the most recent stuff! (i also filter by word count a lot too bc i’m not always in the mood for something multi-chaptered or something that will take me multiple days to finish reading)

last, sometimes i’ll go into the main pairing tag i’m looking for and sort by kudos/hits/date/whatever and jump to like….the 30th page of results. there’s sooooo much stuff i miss just bc it gets lost in the flow of new/popular fics, so jumping to random deep-dive search results will help you find new stuff & come across fics & authors you haven’t seen before 💞💖💘

now here’s some of the stuff i’ve been enjoying lately!! 💞💖💘💕

love by the seaside by viwrites

this was very cute and a great quick read! remus is a disgruntled painter/barista recovering from a toxic relationship & sirius is the sweet, dashing stranger that he meets by accident on the beach one day. lots of early-morning coffee runs and nervous flirting with some christmas fluff as a treat

hurling crowbirds at mockingbars by wrappedup

y’all know i am typically NOT an exes to lovers kind of girlie. i find this trope very hard to read most of the time bc i am a huge baby, but this one was a quick read and the plot was overall very sweet! remus broke up with sirius & left the country out of the blue almost 10 years ago, and then comes back to town with a fiancé. sirius learns very quickly that he’s still hurt, and remus learns very quickly that he might have jumped the gun all those years ago.

in the dark there is discovery by lynxindisguise

wolfstar pirate au!! need i say more!!

disarm you with a smile by five_ht

listen to me. look me in my eyes. this is explicit as fuck and i encourage you to read every single one of the tags carefully. seriously read all of them. it will not be for everyone but like….,oh my fuxking god. sirius steals remus’ phone number while hanging out with his friend (remus’ niece) one day and starts sending him increasingly suggestive texts anonymously. it’s all fun and games until sirius starts to catch feelings & remus starts to get curious ab who he’s been talking to.

in the centre of a circle by moonheavens

reccing this again bc I HAVEN’T CAUGHT UP YET BUT IT’S SO SO GOOD i’m going after the latest chapter as SOOOOOON as i have the time this week 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 sirius lives with the lupins and is very much in love with remus. he consults various people for advice.

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

Grocery shopping for the next couple of weeks is done. I made an order from Walmart and as soon as it was brought to me I realized I needed like five or six more things. So I had to go back out. Then since hubby is at work I had to bring everything in myself which is just exhausting. I think I am owed a nap.

My sister asked what I wanted for Christmas and it was pretty hard because I really have everything I need. I asked for more bedding and I've had my eye on some Firefly glass bracelets. I see the ads for Nogu constantly on here. I've been looking at the bracelets there and of course the more I look the more ads they send me. It's just their bracelets are fairly expensive and I'm so afraid that I'm going to spend the money and then they are not going to look like the ones in the pictures. I really want the green glow in the dark glass. So I found one on Etsy that was half the price and my sister ordered it. She also ordered us some monogram sheets and a bunch of bedding that just arrived today and I haven't even had the energy to open it up.

However she had also sent me something much earlier in the month that we had had a hard time getting delivered because neither one of us were home whenever you UPS came by. I started getting really curious about it because she said it was something very special that she saw it and thought of me. Well. , , it was delivered yesterday and oh boy...... I kind of felt like someone had given me a leg lamp. It was a set of super heavy Green Glass candelabras with dangling beads coming off the sides. And in the candelabras were these electronic candles that supposedly had their own remote control for that controlled how they flickered. It was the biggest ugliest monstrosity I think I have ever seen. And I guess she thought of me because it was Green and the Green Glass is very pretty but oh my God........ it's hideous. And I'm not even sure what the remote control is supposed to do we got the candles to turn on and that's about it.

They are so unbelievably heavy I guess if I could swing them they would make a great self-defense weapon. That's about the only good thing I can say for them.

But she is the only family I have and it is a thought that counts so I'm glad she was thinking of me.

Tomorrow I am going to go and send off my final Christmas present Period I was able to get two of my closest friends And my sister Personalized tumblers from this place that does it locally. For my other friend who Is usually In much more need of groceries, I sent a gift card from Walmart and she was able to get herself an air fryer and a few groceries with it. So that made me happy.

Tuesday I'm sitting up a table at the only coffee shop in town where I happen to know the owner fairly well. I'm trying to sell off these dozens upon dozens of extra Mary Kay cosmetics I ended up with.

I had ordered some of them for a teacher that I work with but when I had to discipline her absolutely hateful and disrespectful son who told almost every teacher on campus---- including her --'to shut up and go to hell.

I don't know what he told her about me but suddenly she did not speak to me anymore,, & hasn't spoken to me in the last year.

So of course she was unwilling to purchase all the Cosmetics she had actually ordered from me once they came in. *sigh*

Also last year I had to order $300 worth of cosmetics in order to keep my status as consultant. But then I just ran out of the energy to go out and sell the stuff. Most days I just want to go home and go to bed I don't want to track down any clients I don't want to give makeovers I just want to sleep. So anyway I'm trying to make whatever I can offer them and selling them cheap as stocking stuffers monday. Going to try to drag my carcass out of bed early and catch the morning Rush of people and I am so hoping I can sell a few things just to get them out of my hair.

[allylikethecat]

6, 24, 30

YAY oh my gosh thank you so much for indulging me in the AO3 Wrapped [Reader Edition] ask game situation! I LOVE any and all ask game situations and this one is extra fun because I get to chat about the fun fics I've read this year by so many talented people! If anyone else wants to send any other asks the list can be found here.

6. What's your absolute favorite works you read this year?

Aw man asking the hard questions! There have been so many fics I've enjoyed this year! I reread Poses by @vinylandcoffeecollection multiple times this year because it is my all time favorite / comfort fic! I've also really enjoyed everything @lookedlikethebins, @sundrownsthehouse and @0ceanxey3s have written!

24. Where do you read the most?

On my phone curled up on my couch with a fluffy blanket that my friend got me for Christmas two years ago that has horses that look like Pop on it 😂

30. Biggest surprise for you as a reader this year?

Hmmmm another hard one! I'm not sure if this means biggest surprise in a fic I've read or biggest surprise in general and I absolutely over think everything so I'm answering it as a more general thing. I've been really surprised but how small this fandom can feel sometimes. Everyone that is writing for the fandom is so incredibly talented and for the most part so incredibly kind - I've just been surprised there aren't more of us!

Thank you so much for sending in this ask and for (hopefully!) reading my fic! I really appreciate the support and am so grateful that people are willing to take the time to send me fun asks like this! Thank you so much and I hope you have a FANTASTIC rest of your day / night!

❤️Ally

[purplejabberwock]

Hey, I‘m kind of a die hard DMW fan. Since I discovered them in 2021, your works have replaced Canon in my heart and I‘ve been much happier about the SP fandom since my friend recommended me your fics. I‘ve actually drawn some fan art on my Tumblr if you‘re interested, and last year for Christmas I (very clumsily) bound the first book for myself and 3 of my friends.

All that being said, I‘ve been dying to know if you‘re still planning on continuing the series eventually. I know you‘ve been busy IRL and I‘ve been trying not to get my hopes up, but it would really give me some closure/make my day to know.

You deserve the world for DMW and all that you and AmaraqWolf have already written in that verse, I‘ve never loved a fanfic that much before. You made me love characters that barely even existed in canon and DMW makes me feel safe while still being exciting and suspenseful. Just, thank you for writing.

Oh and if you would like to have the pdf I formatted for the books I‘d be happy to send it to you.

'Clumsily'. Those are gorgeous is what they are. I'm very glad you've taken them offline where you can't lose them, especially in such a lovely manner. Not that I remove my creative works, as a rule, but there's no quite telling what the Internet will do, so I always encourage people to make copies.

To answer your question: yes, I am still writing DMW. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. When I might, I dare not speculate, let alone promise. Sometimes the knowledge that people are waiting on it has its own dampening effect, so I'm slowly training myself not to be bothered by the expectation. (Don't feel bad about being hype, though. I'm a reader too. Sometimes you just Want.)

It's funny to me when people say 'I know you're busy irl' because honestly, writing *is* my irl. If I'm not writing one thing I'm writing another (or trying to figure out my shit so I get back to writing. Unpacking from the move comes under this header). The biggest competitor to my time is video games. And the need to work for income for shelter and sustenance, I GUESS.

There's a lot I want to write and each has their season, but the writing will always be there. The series is not over yet. Until it is, it will be there waiting for me. Hopefully that's as reassuring as I meant it to be.

[sweetmusingss]

Renee blew you a kiss right back, trying to be strong but the sadness was already in her eyes just as it was shown in yours. Those three little words were right on the tip of her tongue but she held back. “I can’t wait to get your call. Have a safe flight, little one,” she said, staring intensely at you. As soon as you were gone, she let her tears fall. She had never felt so connected to someone on every single level. She felt every emotion with you so deeply but it made times like these so much harder. She played on her phone as she got driven home, saving fan edits of you and just letting herself feel.

As soon as I stepped foot into the airport, the tears started falling. I hated being away from Renee, this whole thing feeling so awful and like I was missing a limb or something. I was desperate to turn and run back to her car, but I just went through security and got to my gate, keeping my head down and trying to keep a low profile. The flight was long, flicking through what movies they had, surprised when I saw the 2024 Mean Girls was available to stream. I hated being that girl, but I immediately chose it, knowing watching Renee would bring me some comfort. I smirk during the Santa baby dance, Renee looking so fucking hot in her outfit, taking a video before sending it to her. ‘please tell me the costume department let you keep this... and please wear it for me on Christmas. or any day.’  

__

I smile as I heard what she said about her and Chris, thinking it was the most romantic story ever. I furrow my brows when hearing you had a bad past relationship. “Whoever broke his heart is the biggest idiot in the world. I can talk to Chris if it will make him feel better but I haven’t had a boyfriend in three years,” I admit to her. “I don’t trust easily and I was hurt pretty badly myself so I know what that feels like. I know it can be hard to just take my word for it but I wouldn’t be here right now if I didn’t see this going somewhere good. I am crazy about him.”

“Chris and Mackie don’t speak very highly of her. They say she wasn’t very nice and led him on for a while so he’s a bit... cautious. I don’t think he’s been in a relationship since, at least not ones that lasted past the morning.” She takes a sip of her drink, nodding as you talk about being hurt and not having a lot of trust. “I know he’s a good guy. I’ve only just met him, but he just has an... aura about him. He’s a good one. You’re lucky.”

Chris was watching as his girlfriend and you chatted, seeing that you two were getting on well right off the bat and he liked that. He looks over at Seb, giving his friend a knowing smirk. “Looks like we’ll be going on some double dates! I’ve always wanted to be that couple who has best friends who are also a couple so we can all go out together!” 

[steddielations]

Of course Steve’s birthday is on Christmas.

It’s like the universe aligned perfectly for his parents to ignore his existence. Sure, he got enough presents to cover both when he was younger, when his parents wanted a perfect family holiday card to send out, but it was never about Steve.

When he got older, it was so easy for them to wrap it all up in one, mail him a check from whatever city, until the cards stopped saying happy birthday at all. Steve started wrapping it all up in one too. If his parents were going to leave him alone on Christmas and forget his birthday, it’s better at the same time, one less day of the year to be disappointed.

He hates December. He hates winter. He hates being surrounded by all those pretty lights taunting him for being alone in the dark.

He sort of forgets he has a birthday, until the last couple of years with Robin and the kids. He always tells them his Christmas present can double as his birthday present. Robin never goes for that though, she only gets him a birthday present.

Now comes Eddie. He doesn’t know about the wrap it up in one deal. He doesn’t know that Steve gets all broody around the subject. He’s just sitting next to Steve on the couch, going on about the fishing trip he’s taking Wayne on for his upcoming birthday.

It sounds nice. It’s only one weekend. Steve shouldn’t feel a pit in his stomach that already misses Eddie. They’re just friends, they can’t spend every weekend together, as much as Steve likes tagging along with whatever Eddie’s doing, he has to give him space.

“Yeah so it’s nothing compared to a big Harrington bash,” Eddie teases, passing Steve the joint, “Say, am I cool enough now to be invited to your birthday rager this year? When is it anyway?”

And that’s a simple question, but Steve doesn’t know what it is about Eddie that just draws the truth out of him, that makes him give the not simple answer. He blows out smoke and all the years of forgotten birthdays wrapped in one check and a Christmas card with it.

It’s too much, he’s too much and he starts to apologize, but Eddie cuts him off with a certain intensity he gets sometimes.

“Well, starting right now, fuck that. When do you want your birthday to be?”

Steve chuckles, tries to brush it off, “What? Eddie, c’mon. It’s not a big deal, dude.”

“No, seriously. When do you want your birthday to be, Steve?”

It’s so stupid. It’s so silly sitting in Eddie Munson’s living room trying to decide which day he’d prefer for his birthday, when he’s barely holding back saying how he sort of wishes he didn’t have one at all. He thinks Eddie knows anyway, without him having to say it, so he makes it easier. Eddie always makes it easier.

It takes a couple of tries, a couple cups full of torn pieces of paper with scribbled numbers randomly chosen, but Steve Harrington gets a new birthday that night.

“Yeah, you look like more of a summer baby anyway,” Eddie says and Steve wishes he wouldn’t, it’s so hard not to love him when he does.

Steve gets to tag along on Wayne’s birthday fishing trip, or rather, he was invited, as Eddie keeps correcting.

It’s nice, it’s May, it’s quiet by the river and it gets just cool enough at night to build a campfire. Eddie pulls out his guitar, a pretty acoustic one, and he playfully strums out the chords to happy birthday for Wayne. Steve watches across the fire, he feels warm down to his bones, melting away all those cold lonely Decembers frozen inside them.

Wayne spends his birthday teaching Steve to fish. He catches the biggest one, and he hopes the Polaroid that Eddie snaps doesn’t pick up the tears in his eyes.

Eddie sidles up next to him, pretending not to notice Steve wiping his eyes. He rubs his back, whispers congratulations, “Look at you, summer baby.”

He feels the sun rising in his cheeks, bright and burning. It’s impossible not to love Eddie, not when this is the best birthday Steve’s ever had and it’s not even his own.

Steve forgets all about the new date he chose to come into the world, and as the weeks pass in a warm haze, he stops trying not to love Eddie.

It’s too late to catch himself. He’s already falling as they lie on the trailer roof, talking about everything and nothing while sunset colors melt over them, as he rides along while Eddie deals and calls Steve his summer baby in the passenger seat.

Steve’s so in love with Eddie that it burns, makes him golden inside, even the places in him that have never known anything bright.

He doesn’t want to lose that, so he tells himself he can settle for just this.

And it’s true for a while, until that date comes along, the one he forgot about, but Eddie didn’t.

Robin has a spare key to his house, she helped Eddie plan all this, that’s the only explanation for what Steve sees in his backyard when he gets off work on a Friday in July.

All the kids are there, Dustin Henderson is in the pool that Steve hasn’t used since ‘83, with El Hopper on his shoulders, Mike Wheeler is doing the same holding up Will Byers, Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield are wrestling inside a bounce house, Nancy Wheeler is manning the grill Steve’s dad bought for show, Robin Buckley is grinning ear to ear with a bright glass of lemonade, and Eddie Munson’s at the center of it all.

Everyone that Steve loves is there yelling, “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

He can’t describe the feeling that bursts through him.

The July sun isn't in the sky anymore, it’s rising inside Steve’s chest. It’s too big and too bright. This body of his that grew up alone in the dead of winter wasn’t made to feel such warmth, bringing hot tears to his eyes.

He’s hurrying back inside the house before he knows it. He feels bad, rushing out like that, away from his party, but he just needs a second. He has to lean against the kitchen counter, run his hands over his face and through his hair, trying to stop all these feelings from melting out of him.

He hears someone come in behind him, assumes it’s Robin, but he feels a hand on his back, hears a low, reassuring voice next to him that belongs to Eddie.

“Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, Steve. I should’ve asked if you were okay with this. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”

Steve blinks hard, brushing away the tears, “No it’s— It's fine, Eds, really.”

Eddie doesn’t look convinced, brown eyes deep with concern, he holds Steve’s elbows, “Okay well, Robin said you weren’t really a fan of your pool but that’s okay, if that’s what you’re worried about. No one expects you to get in, Stevie.”

He’s perfect. He’s everything Steve wants and needs. The light that’s been missing inside him, Eddie struck a match to it. Steve never knew his heart was so flammable and he doesn’t know how Eddie can’t see that he’s burning for him.

“No, thats— that’s not it, Eddie.”

“Is it the kiddy theme? Listen, I had trouble picking it, so I just thought maybe since it was mostly gonna be kids here and you never had a kids' birthday party then, y’know, summer, pool, bounce house, games— okay it sounds dumb now, I’ll just get everyone to leave—”

Steve reaches out when Eddie starts to pull back, hands catching his shoulders and the ends of his hair, “No, no, please don’t. This is— it’s perfect, Eddie. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

“Then why do you look so sad?”

“Because I—” Steve can’t hold it in anymore, it’s too hot, summer beneath his skin, he has to let it out, “Because I want to kiss you so bad right now and I can’t.”

He expects Eddie to pull back, or worse, let him down gently, like the quick press of fingertips to the flame of a candle, snuff the feeling out just like that.

Instead, Steve’s breath catches when Eddie’s hands cup his face, thumbs brushing away the stray tears Steve missed.

“Who says you can’t?” Eddie asks and part of Steve wishes he wouldn’t, because it’s so easy to love Eddie with every piece of him when he does, and Steve’s going to fall apart trying to stop.

“I shouldn’t have said that, sorry. I just don’t want to lose you as a friend, you don’t have to feel the same, but that’s what it is,” Steve lets it out, let’s it catch fire between them and just hopes it doesn’t turn them to ashes, “I want to kiss you for doing this for me, for being you. I want to kiss you all the fucking time and especially right now, Eddie, but I can’t.”

He waits for it, to be left out in the cold, for frost to cover his bones again, but Eddie’s hands stay warm on his face.

A smile lights on Eddie’s lips, the kind that Steve can feel radiating between them. He doesn’t know why Eddie’s smiling when he should be leaving, but Steve wants to keep that feeling forever.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Stevie? You can do whatever you want when it’s your birthday.”

Eddie’s eyes fall to Steve’s lips and back up again, setting off a surprised flare in his chest.

“Whatever I want?” Steve repeats in disbelief, searching Eddie’s eyes.

“Whatever you want.”

“You want that too?”

“I want you, too,” Eddie grins like it’s the easiest thing in the world to want Steve, then leans in.

Their mouths connect and it’s like something fiercely cosmic, a solar flare at the touch of their lips.

Eddie’s been sipping lemonade, Steve can taste it on his tongue. Citrusy and warm, Eddie tastes like pure fucking sunshine, all golden in Steve’s mouth.

Kissing Eddie feels like he’s at the center of the universe. He makes Steve feel like the sun, like the brightest thing in the goddamn sky is Steve Harrington.

No pretty light could compare.

Steve chases the heat of Eddie’s mouth, letting it light a fire inside him. His hands have a mind of their own, making Eddie’s messy hair even messier, then falling to his waist to pull him close and hold him while he just kisses and kisses and kisses Eddie.

They have to break for air, foreheads resting together, Steve misses Eddie’s lips already.

Their panting breaths fuse, gazes locked for a few delirious moments, half-lidded and close.

Eddie breaks the silence, laughing breathlessly, giving Steve’s lips one final peck before pulling back, brushing Steve’s hair out of his eyes for him.

“You good?”

Steve laughs then too, a rush of breath, relieved and light, “Never been better.”

Eddie smiles, taking Steve’s hands in the warmth of his, “C’mon then, summer baby. Don’t wanna miss your birthday party.”

They go back outside and Eddie stays close by Steve with a pretty flush high on his cheeks. Steve’s face feels sun-kissed too, and judging by the look he gets from Robin, it shows.

It should be stupid, having a birthday party with a bounce house and a bunch of screaming kids. Maybe it is a little, but it’s still the best birthday Steve’s ever had, and it’s actually his own this time.

He spends the better part of it trying not to cry, especially when he opens the few presents they got him. He’s not used to everything being about him, but Eddie’s arm stays around him, giving him encouraging squeezes, bursts of warmth that keep him going.

Steve’s not forgotten in the shadow of something bigger, wrapped up in one so it’s easier to forget he exists. No, it’s like nothing’s more important than him that day. He doesn’t need it, and it’s hard to let himself have it, but it’s nice to get a day that’s his.

When Christmas comes later that year, Robin still gets Steve a birthday present, there’s no arguing with her. Then Eddie tries to pull the same thing, and Steve’s not having it.

They’re both in their flannels on the couch, Eddie throwing his legs over Steve’s lap and trying to push the extra gift into Steve’s hands.

“C’mon, Stevie, I swear it’s not a birthday present. It's just because.”

“Uh huh, sure. Just because what?”

Eddie shrugs, rests his arm around Steve’s shoulders and presses the words against his cheek, “Just ’cause I love you,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love Steve.

Steve thinks he knows what to call that feeling now. The one that makes December easier because he’s got his own summer sun pumping warmth through his veins now.

It's love.

Eddie loves him.

Not just on his birthday, or on Christmas, or only on occasion, but everyday. Eddie loves him everyday.

ao3 link

[levok]

Helloo!! sorry for bother you , did you see the one podcast itty bitty tittypodd that came out today of edvin?, if you wanted and could, you could tell us what he said edvin please?

I actually haven’t had the chance to listen to it until JUST now! But it did it for you anon 😙

Here’s a resume. I apologize if I missed something - I am after all just a humble Dane living a polyglot life.

The podcast is taped before they go to New York. Everything in () is my comments, not something said in the pod.

Edvin has been a bit stressed and they advise him to do some stress release in the hips. (never heard about that technique before, but I’m intrigued).

They talk about Lolla where they had a good time (music festival they attended this summer).

About New York:

Netflix pulled some strings Edvin assumes. He didn’t know about it, and Omar called him on the last day of filming Karusell. Edvin didn’t believe him because he bullshits him all the time. He saw his agent a few minutes later and they called Netflix to confirm it.

He doesn’t know what they are gonna talking about with Fallon yet, but doesn’t give a fuck as long as he gets to be there (that’s the energy haha)

He doesn’t know what he will wear yet, but tells he will get help from Timothee Chalamet’s stylist - a secret at this point. He is very excited about that, because he thinks she’s really creative. He wants to look nice and not like he’s wearing a costume.

His agent ensured him he was great at doing interviews in English.

One of the girls gave him some tip on NYC food.

Edvin has been in NYC once with his family in 2019

Omar brings a guy from his management, edvin goes alone.

About Christmas:

Edvin has a weird relationship with Christmas and has not always been the biggest fan because he has had a tendency to have too high expectations. He is more calm about it today, and thinks it nice/cozy but is not in a Christmas frenzy.

He is gonna spend it with his immediate family (parents, 3 sibling and Otis).

He likes to watch movies at Christmas. Not necessarily Christmas movies, but The Holiday is his fave Christmas movie.

They talk about how Edvin could have played the kid played by Thomas Brodie in Love Actually (I think).

He has a hard time coming up with Christmas wishes. This year he wishes for theater tickets to go with his parents. (That’s such a nice wish. But also relatable. But 19 is too soon to run out of Christmas wishes haha)

And then they talk a lot about Christmas dilemmas send in by listeners.

They give Edvin a book, which he reads from. He’s a great reader and would also love to do audiobooks (love that idea)

His advise to the listeners: Don’t stress about time. (A great advise from someone known for being late hahah… but true. Relax peeps ✌️)

That was it 🫶

[mishasminion360]

If Only In My Dreams

Zach Wellison x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff; smidgens of angst; mentions of war; a little Christmas magic.

Summary: It’s never been harder to be in love with a marine when the man in question is overseas for the holidays.

A/N: Sorry to get all depresso but….this past October I lost my father very suddenly. My biggest supporter; my best friend. Mom and I barely made it through Thanksgiving and now Christmas is hitting me hard. I’ve spent the last week thinking how I’d give anything to have him here for the holidays, and my angst spawned this idea. Everyone, please remember to cherish your loved ones, especially during the most magical times of the year. I hope that 2023 will be a better year for all 😊

You can’t recall a Christmas that’s ever felt colder. Even with the fireplace roaring you can’t seem to feel the heat. His embrace warms you more than any flame.

He’s been gone for a year but it feels like 10. True to his word there hasn’t been a day where you and Zach haven’t spoken via Zoom, or a week where there wasn’t a postcard from parts unknown waiting in your mailbox.

The last letter you’d received had been accompanied by a small box. A ring box. An empty ring box. At the bottom of the postcard, following his missive, was a P.S.

“Think about it and get back to me.”

You didn’t have to think about it; you’ve had the answer locked and loaded since the day you’d met Zach Wellison. Now you just need the man to give it to. Home safe and sound.

That odd letter had arrived a week ago, and only silence followed. Now here it is Christmas Eve and you’ve never been more aware of your loneliness. The lights on the tree don’t seem to twinkle; the hot chocolate just doesn’t taste as sweet. All of the holiday magic has faded away, replaced by a heaviness that settles into your head and your heart.

***

You’re halfway through “Elf”—vaguely chuckling at the absurdity of Buddy’s holiday antics—when there comes a knock. You fly to the door faster than the narrator in “Twas the Night Before Christmas”, eager to investigate your late night visitor.

A FedEx driver is the last person you’re expecting to find shivering in the snow on your porch.

“Don’t you folks get the day off?”

“Not as long as there are still important Christmas packages to deliver into the right hands.”

He hands you a small cardboard envelope and instructs you to sign on the dotted line. You watch him wander all the way back to the warmth of his waiting truck before tearing open the envelope and fishing around for its contents.

You can only stare in awe at the diamond ring that falls into your palm, glinting like a snowflake that’s caught the light of the moon.

“Well, what do you say?”

God, you hope it’s not a dream; a holiday hallucination. There he stands on your front lawn, stateside, adorned in his fatigues and rucksack at his feet.

You’re off the porch and tearing through the snow, launching yourself into Zach’s arms with enough force to send you both falling into powder.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he chuckles, wrapping you in those arms you’ve been longing for. You’re instantly warm regardless of the slush filling your pajamas.

“It’s always been ‘yes’, Wellison.”

He slings has pack over his shoulder and carries you inside just as the clock strikes midnight.

“Looks like I made it just in time. Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

Zach doesn’t let your feet touch the floor until you’re beneath the mistletoe.

@grimeylady @rav3n-pascal22 @mamacitapascal @insomniamama1 @pedrosbisch @emmaispunk @lv7867 @reonlouw @hawaiianmelodies @pascalsky @pascalpanic @heythere-mel @healingstardust @delorena @pedropasxal @caesaryoulater @kiizhikehn-cedar @hellovanessax-deactivated202209 @fangirling-alert @fromthedeskoftheraven @axshadows @dragon-scales88 @spacepastel-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @pbeatriz-blog @hauntedmama @mswarriorbabe80 @horton-hears-a-honk @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @a-trial-run-on-paper @oonajaeadira @foli-vora @dhadiirah @felicisimor @practicalghost @luz-introvertida @amneris21 @hb8301 @tanzthompson @littlemisspascal @dobbyjen @supernaturalgirl20 @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @trickstersp8 @neganwifey25-blog @twistedboxy @emiemiemiii

[yeojaa]

( HOLIDATING. )

In life, there are certain things that go together, two parts that make up a whole.  The sun in the sky, grandmothers and cheek kisses, chocolate when you’re sad—and you and Jeon Jungkook.  Best friends since childhood, there’s never been one without the other.  You’ve always existed this way, caught in each other’s orbit.  Parallel lines that run side by side.

But what happens when those lines finally collide?

(or:  how to lose a best friend in ten days.)

pairing.   best friend!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  it’s a full course meal, baby! fluff, smut, baby angst, a bit of crack.  the smut is pretty minor but it is explicit when it comes up.

tags / warnings.  idiots to lovers, dumb ideas, jungkook is bad at feelings, slow burn, pining, oral (f receiving), this jungkook because he lives in my mind rent-free, and in vino veritas (which was my trope).

wc.  ... 12.8k.  laughs in thinking this would be 5k. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ because there’s no me without her and @coepiteamare​​ because vi is too, too good to me.

author note.  this is wiiiiildly late (lol) but is part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with the most wonderful group of women @underthejoon​​ @ladyartemesia​​ @ppersonna​​ @untaemedqueen​​ @xjoonchildx​​ and @snackhobi​​.  i hope you will check out their incredible works because they deserve all the support in the world and i am so very lucky to have been involved in this.  if you enjoy it, feedback goes a long way.  tysm!  💖💖

Jeon Jungkook is four bites into his meal when he almost chokes, the half-chewed bite of meat getting caught somewhere in the back of his throat, threatening to send him to a far too early grave.  He’s three delirious gulps of water deep when he asks you to repeat what you’ve just said, staring at you with the biggest roundest eyes anyone’s ever seen, shining like a beacon in the night, a solar flare that eclipses everything else around it.  He’s silent for a total of five seconds - or so he thinks - before he’s laughing, scoffing so loudly it disrupts Eevee, your lazy Maine Coon, and sends her bolting from her spot by his feet.  

“You’re kidding me.”  Because he can’t even begin to fathom what you’ve just said, make sense of the ludicrous suggestion you’ve made.  

This, coming from the guy who has been your best friend for the last seventeen years.  Who has known you for almost two decades and who, by sheer idiot osmosis, has been privy to every harebrained scheme you’ve ever dreamt up.  Who has, often against his will, suffered through all your crazy 4 a.m. suggestions, nodded along half-asleep as you’d prattled on and on about things that hardly made sense in the light of day but fared even worse beneath a blanket of dazed sleepiness.

(And you’d had a lot of bad ideas.  From your absurd fried chicken restaurant - where you’d use vacuum tubes to send food to people’s tables - to your non-whiteboard whiteboard desk - made for the everyday office person - he’s seen it all.  Talked you off ledges and rebuked your half-hearted requests for him to be your angel investor.

“Isn’t this what friends do?”  You’d said, implored, just two weeks ago over another dinner, with that same absurd stare of yours, the one that Jungkook’s known for most of his life, that makes everything just a little harder to say no to.

“Invest in shitty ideas?”  So maybe some of your ideas aren’t that bad.  Maybe, just maybe, they’re actually sort of inventive.  Out there, certainly, but innovative, plucked from the mind of you and only you.  

Still, he liked giving you a hard time.  It was sort of his thing.

“Definitely not.”

You’d kicked him under the table, pouted at him and then continued your rambling, completely unfazed by the fact that he was not, in fact, going to shell out a part of his trust fund to bring your whacky idea to life.)

Because you know him so well - can read him like a book, recognise his voice in a crowd of thousands, find his smile like a star in the night sky - you take his disbelief in stride.  Treat it like it’s nothing you’re not used to which, well, you aren’t.  Continue to stack French fries onto the tines of your fork, twirling the utensil before depositing the too-big bite into your mouth.

“What’s to kid about?  It’s a good idea.”

Whether it is or isn’t is up for Jungkook to decide - not you - and he can’t entertain it at all, just the mere thought of it existing too far out of the realm of possibility.  “We’re not— What’d you call it?”

“Holidating,”  you state, so matter of fact he wants to roll his eyes.  Actually does when you set your fork down, lay it neatly beside your plate and level him with that stare.  The one that reads like a big red warning sign, that might as well have neon lighting it up by how he shrinks away.  He knows that look.  He knows you’re not backing down, somehow fired up and ready to go in the minute that’s passed.

Still, he’ll try.  Play off your suggestion and scoff just that much harder.  “We’re not holidating, ____.”  

“Why not?”  You’re exasperated, two hands landing on the countertop aggressively.  It’s as endearing as it is childish, making him laugh again, roll his eyes until the sclera is all you can see.  (You’d told him once that his eyes would get stuck like that if he did it too much.  Cue the prank when he’d worn white contacts and nearly given you a heart attack at the tender age of thirteen.)

“Because I don’t have time for dating, let alone—”  Jungkook feels idiotic when he says the words, wrapping them in airquotes that have you glowering.  “‘Holidating’ or whatever.”

“That’s the point!”  You’re waving those same two hands - you’ve always talked with them, emotive and dramatic like a soap opera star - as if that might lend some validity to your statement.  “You don’t have time to date.  I just got out of a relationship.”  Sure, they’re facts but they mean nothing to him as you continue to ramble on.  “Neither of us can or even want to put in the effort for a relationship but like, who wants to spend the holidays alone?”

(You have a point.  There’s nothing quite like attending his extended family’s annual Christmas dinner by himself.  It garners too many of the same questions, offered by distant relatives that mean well but otherwise drive him insane.)

(He’s not about to tell you that, though.  Hard time, and all that.  What’s a best friend if you don’t bicker like idiots?)

“It’s not that bad,”  he says, lying through those slightly too-big, slightly buck-toothed teeth of his.  Why he bothers, he isn’t sure.  You catch him immediately, a loud a-ha! snapping past your lips when he glances to the side, completely unconsciously.

(You’ve known his tell since he was in high school.  Since that first time you’d caught on when he’d borrowed - and subsequently broken - your beloved film camera, you’ve known.  You call him out on it too.  Every. single. time.)

“You’re telling me you want to have your grandma ask you when you’re going to give her grandkids for the umpteenth time?  Seriously?”  

“It’s not that bad,”  he repeats, a broken record that can’t be fixed, whose cat-scratched eeeeeee gives him away.

He’s bluffing.  He knows it.  You know it.

Looks like you’re holidating. 

After dinner, you’re the most serious he’s seen you in, well, a very long time.  You’ve got your notebook out - a heavily worn thing, dogeared in the corners and scratched across the cover with a flimsy spine - and you’re staring him down across the couch like you’re some sort of shrink and he’s your patient.  

(You’re not and he isn’t, but it wouldn’t be much of a stretch.  After all, he’s told you everything, just as you have him.  There’s seldom a secret between the two of you and not just because you somehow call him on every untruth.)

(Call it a byproduct of being best friends for so long.  A blessing most often, but a curse on occasion.)

(Now, Jungkook might call it the latter.)

“We’ve got to set some ground rules,”  you state, unbearably serious, with that little furrow between your brows.  The one that makes you look so much like your mother, aged years by concentration and a single-mindedness that should frankly get you in more trouble than it does.

“Ground rules?”  He echoes the sentiment with a quirked brow, a little lift of his mouth.  (You’d once said it made him look more like his father, lending an air of careful disapproval that the man carried in his daily business dealings.)  “You’re taking this too seriously—”

But you’re not listening to him, already scribbling in your notebook, chewing your bottom lip with abandon.  A hand reaches out, thumb and middle finger meeting to flick you on the knee.

The pen strays across paper and you look up in alarm.  “What!”  

“Stop biting,”  he chides, gesturing to his own mouth.  It’s always been a bad habit of yours and paired with your deplorably poor lip balm usage, it left your lips swollen and irritated.  (Not even the lip masks he’d bought you for Christmas last year - a suggestion from his mother, a stocking stuffer you’d claimed to love - were waging a lost war.)

“Sorry.”  You don’t stop doing it, though.  He wishes he could be surprised.  “Anyway, rules.”

“I don’t think—”

“No couple things.”  

That throws him for a loop - though he doesn’t really know why.  The two of you were best friends.  Quite literally joined at the hip from the moment you’d met all those years ago, just two idiots lumped together by nannies who were sisters.  (His parents’ idea because as great as they were, they simply didn’t have the time themselves.)

(Time.  What a strange concept.  Something that’d dictated the flow of his life since he was a kid.  His parents had never had time, so he’d found other things to fill those gaps - recreational sports and art classes and playing tag with you.  He’d had too much time in school, so he’d thrown himself into his studies, cementing himself as a top student who was just a little too cold, a little too cavalier.  But not with you.  No, never with you.  You always had time for him - kept him grounded whenever he thought he might fly away.  And now, time - or the lack thereof, yet again - had led him here.)

(No time for dating?  Just date your best friend!  Foolproof plan.) 

“What do you mean ‘couple’ things?”  

It’s not that Jungkook’s never dated.  He has - and a fair share, too.  But that was before, in his first few years of college when he’d had more time, more of a desire to cultivate something other than success.  He just doesn’t understand what you mean in this context, brow furrowing.

“Like, no holding hands.  No kissing under the mistletoe.  No—”

His laugh comes loud and teasing, disbelief throwing his words into the air, tossing them like juggling balls.  “You know no one actually hangs mistletoe, right?  And who says I’d want to kiss you?” 

That earns him a kick to the shin, paired with a look of reproach.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook really hadn’t meant anything by it.  He just, well—

“I’m your best friend.  I’m not daydreaming about kissing you, ____.”

“You never know,”  you sniff as if offended, though you’re back to scribbling across your paper so you can’t be that mad.  (Anger’s not something you tend to hold onto, red hot fury sparking through you before fizzling out in the next second.  He’s grateful for that.)

Still, he chooses to move on, ease the dent that’s formed between your brows and has your mouth pouting.  “What else?”

“Uh,”  you pause, staring down at your paper.  “I’m not sure.”

“What’re you writing then?”

The way you blink is slow, owlish, more guilty than confused.  When you flip your notebook to face him, he can’t help but snort.  You’d been doodling, filling the margins with holiday-themed nonsense in the shape of snowflakes and squiggly bows.

“Nothing?”  

“I guess?”  

“Seems easy enough.”

After all, there was no way he was going to fall for you.  Best friends were best friends for a reason, right?

He’s wrong.  Not about not falling for you, but for saying you were friends for a reason.

Right now, he has no idea why or how.

You’ve been in the department store for over an hour, drifting between displays of kitschy trinkets and racks of clothing, seemingly unable to make up your mind.  You’ve asked him five times whether or not you think you’ve made the right choice.  (Yes to the cookie cutter set in the shape of cats for your sister and no to the super soft throw blanket in that hideous shade of blue-green.  Cerulean, as you’d said, rubbing it all over his hands when he’d zoned out staring at his phone.)

You’d promised him lunch two whole hours ago and now he’s getting hangry, his stomach growling with each step he takes.  (A bit of an exaggeration, but he really does fear his stomach’s about to eat itself.  Routine is a standard part of Jungkook’s life.  He has coffee while he’s getting ready, another shortly before lunch, and his last no later than 4 p.m.  Meals come in twos, within the allocated eight hour window he allows himself.)

(Suffice to say, he doesn’t know what to do without his routine, and you’ve all but tossed it out the window, kicked it from its home as if it weren’t paying rent in his mind, keeping everything spick and span.)

“These are cute, right?”  It’s a set of - okay, honestly, he’s not sure what.  Handmade knit toys?  They look like mixes between an otter and a rabbit and sure they’re cute, but so is everything else at the table.  Did that mean he was going to buy any of it?  No.  Did it mean he cared if you did?  Also no.

(Which probably isn’t the right approach, given how gung-ho you go for the holidays.  Its own personal cheerleader, as if it didn’t already have all the support in the form of a jolly fat man and Buddy the Elf.)

“Sure.”  He’s too tired - too hungry, too irritable - to offer anything with more care, his usual polite demeanour coloured red by the starving beast that rumbles about in his stomach.  It groans loudly, coiling his fists as he follows you around the display, a zombie on its last legs.

“You’re not even looking.”

Though you’re huffing, spectacularly unimpressed, you don’t seem terribly bothered.  You can likely read all his unhappiness with just one glance, as one often did with the title of best friend.

Jungkook doesn’t mean to snipe back but he does anyway, patience worse for wear.  “We’ve been in here forever.”

“Five more minutes.”

It ends up being another twenty-five but he doesn’t begrudge you that because he’s finally - finally! - got something in his hands.  Something warm and carb-loaded and so tasty he’s probably going to choke because he’s trying to inhale his meal. 

“Do you have anything else to buy?”  You’re only picking at your food, carefully nibbling the edge of a kale leaf as he scarfs down the entirety of his burger in record time.

At least he has the decency to chew until his mouth is clear, a sesame seed stuck to his lip.  “I didn’t leave mine until the last minute.”  He never does, preferring to start in November so everything is ready to go by early December.  It’s far less stress-inducing than what you do, running around the malls the week before, fighting the throngs and complaining loudly when items are delayed in the mail.

(Organised as you could be - he’s seen it in your colour-coded journals, the long hours you work - your personal life was spectacularly chaotic.  Honestly, Jungkook has no idea how you survive.)

“No, everything’s back at my apartment.  Just have to wrap.”  

And then he’s levelling you with that puppy dog stare - the one he knows you can’t deny.  So glossy it should be illegal, twinkling bright behind a frame of dark lashes.  

You beat him to the punch, stealing the words right from his mouth.  “We can go back and I’ll wrap them.”

It’s an understanding you’ve always had.  He accompanies you on your absurd last minute shopping trips and you wrap all of his packages, dressing them in adorable animal-printed wrapping and topping them with big colourful ribbons.  (He’s not quite sure how your agreement was fair but hey, he’s not going to complain.  You seemed to love the repetition of it all, measuring perfectly-sized strips of tape and affixing neat name tags.)

“Thanks, ____.”

“You’re welcome,”  you say as you steal a fry from his plate, popping it into your mouth with a brilliant smile.  “Can we stop and get coffee, though?”

"You did this?"  As always, Yoongi's voice is riddled with disbelief, single brow quirked so high Jungkook thinks it might leap off his face and join the pile of presents beneath the tree.

"Well, no—"  But he should already know that, because Jeon Jungkook never wraps his own presents.  Hasn't since you got into arts and crafts and decided gift wrapping was the cool new way to show off your talents without having to invest all of your money into things like bullet journaling or scrapbooking.

(It's probably going to shaft him one day when you're not available and he has to tape the edges and write the cards but that's a problem for future Jungkook.)

"____ again?"

A hand scrubs across the back of his neck, sheepish smile forming fully.  "How'd you guess?"

The elder only laughs - a quick puff of air through his lips - before he sips at the amber liquid in his glass.  "You should really share her services.  Some of us need them."  And by that, he almost certainly means Namjoon, who is simultaneously one of the most well-put together and yet disastrously disorganised people in their friend group. (So bad were his wrapping skills that he'd stopped trying entirely, simply opting for kitschy bags and lots and lots of tissue paper.)

"I mean, if you guys wanna be dragged around the mall too, then that's your prerogative."  Despite how he says it though, Jungkook doesn't really mind.  It's simply a part of your holiday tradition, something that happens whether he likes it or not. (And honestly, he does like it.  Loves it, actually, except for when he's hangry or, on the seldom occasion, hungover.)

Yoongi offers another chuckle, draining the last of his whisky.  He doesn't need to say much else because he has actually seen you in action - experienced your indecision and dawdling nature firsthand.  It'd been once a couple years ago, when he'd been stumped for a gift for his partner and you'd insisted you'd know exactly what she'd want.

(You hadn't.  The three of you had wandered the mall for five hours and you couldn't make up your mind.  It'd been absolute hell.)

"What're you two talking about?"

As if on cue, you've appeared, peering over Jungkook's shoulder like an elf, decked out in your usual red felt hat and flushed to match. (Out of all of your friends, you had the worst time with drinking.  Even if you were almost sober, your face would turn the colour of a tomato.)

Jungkook's too busy stabilising you - you're also awfully clumsy, as if the darker you got, the worse your balance became - to answer but Yoongi doesn't miss a beat, that trademark gummy smile spreading like honey.  "Just saying you should start charging for your gift wrapping services.  You're making the rest of us look bad."

It's not necessarily untrue.  Everyone's presents look fine.  Cute, if not a little sloppy.  But yours and Jungkook's stand out, topped with intricate bows and twine and big flourishing calligraphy on the tags.

"I could give you lessons," you tease, hanging across your best friend's shoulders, breath smelling strongly of homemade eggnog. (Nutmeg assaults him first, followed by cinnamon.  The liquor sneaks up, coating your tongue and his senses when you chirp your words against his cheek.)

"But that means work for me."

You're sighing dramatically, waving your hands in the same manner.  "That's the point, Yoongles.  Teach a man to fish—"

"You've got the saying wrong."  Both your friends are reprimanding you, amusement sliding over syllables as you pause, mouth rounding into a pout.  It's quite a funny sight, watching the cogs work in your brain, the way the realisation doesn't dawn quickly enough.

You try again, with great gusto.  "If you..."

As funny as it is watching you struggle, Jungkook's need-to-be-right nature kicks into gear.  "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day."  There's a pregnant pause, doe eyes wide, imploring.  You can do it, he thinks.

You don't, gaping up at him, the picture of that one meme you're so inclined to share regularly.  The one with the blonde surrounded by equations.

He finishes with a sigh, "teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime."

"Yeah, that."

Yoongi isn't quite as good a sport, expression turning sly.  "I don't want to be fed for a lifetime.  I want to be fed for just a day.  Just Christmas day, actually."

You must be drunk, or at least a little tipsy.  You take his retort with a heavy roll of your eyes, detaching yourself from Jungkook's shoulders to launch yourself at the third party.  At least, you try to, narrowly missing when Yoongi side steps, nearly leaving you to run headlong into the immaculately decorated Christmas tree in the corner of your best friend's apartment.

Luckily - or maybe because Jungkook knows you so well, can read your movements before you've even thought them through yourself - you're caught by the turn of your wrist, ink-strewn fingers coiling neatly around the delicate bone.

You collide against Jungkook's chest with a quiet oof!, met with a stare of consternation.

"Take care of your girlfriend" is all Yoongi offers before disappearing back toward the kitchen, snickering not-so-quietly to himself.

At least the two of you are in tandem then: "We're holidating!"

What was so hard to get about that?

"You're what?"  Your sister's staring at you like you've grown a second head or maybe sprouted another eye, right smack dab in the centre of your forehead.  Jungkook's really trying not to eavesdrop - he's polite like that, carefully disinterested in the conversation as he picks at his food. (If your sister didn't speak so loudly, it'd probably be easier but, well, the two of you had that in common.  Charismatic and endearing at your best, boisterous and distracting at your worst.)

"Holidating."  It comes in the exact same way you'd said it to him originally and he has to admit, he's vindicated when your sister repeats the word right back.  At least someone's just as incredulous.

"What the hell is that?"  Eunha demands, brow furrowing, looking very much like your older counterpart, the same features delicately aged by motherhood (and likely having to play big sister to you).  "Is that a made up word?"

"It's dating for the holidays.  But not like, dating dating.  Just being each other's dates."

Whatever she's thinking, she manages to cage it behind her teeth, carefully mulling over her next words.  It's actually quite a feat, considering the blood that runs through both of your veins. (He remembers the first time he'd met your mother and it'd been the Spanish Inquisition.) "So, you're dating."

"No!"  The rebuff explodes off your tongue, full of exasperation.  Jungkook nearly snorts into his own bowl, glad he'd been chewing bulgogi rather than drinking water.

"I'm lost."

(Join the club, he thinks.  It's still the dumbest thing he's heard in the last week.)

"We're each other's dates.  It sucks being alone for the holidays."

You speak as if from experience but your sister calls you on it immediately, without remorse.  (It reminds him so much of how you’d rebuked him that he’s just a liiiittle gleeful, vindicated by the scowl that paints itself in broad strokes.)

"You're not alone.  Our family is huge."

"I mean without a date!"

"You've always had a date."  Because you were a serial monogamist, the complete opposite of Jungkook who hasn't dated since university, opting to throw himself into his work.

"Okay, but—"

It's hard to argue with someone who knows you so well.  If Jungkook could read you like a book, Eunha had you memorised like flashcards for a test.  Between the two of them, you could barely win an argument (and there were lots to be had, though almost always childish and not at all serious.)

"So, you're not dating."

"No."

"But you're dating."

"Holidating."  Why you correct her, Jungkook's not sure.  It's such a stupid thing - silly semantics - but you'd already talked him into it so he's not about to butt in.  He's got kimchi to focus on and Christmas cake to devour.

"Okay, seriously."

He knows what those words mean.  Essentially that he's in for it and there's nowhere to go, no escape in sight.  Once Eunha set her sights on something, that was it.  Job, husband, precocious daughter with a reading comprehension level beyond her years - if she wanted it, she got it.

So Jungkook's just a little wary, peering at your sister over the rim of his mug, expression deliberately blank.

"What's going on with you guys?"

He hates people who answer questions with questions.  It's a waste of his time and yet here he is, glibly deflecting as if she won't give him shit like the older sister he's never had. (It's an apt description, considering your parents were as good as his.) "What do you mean?"

"What the hell is holidating?"

"Beats me."  At least he’s being honest.  He really, really doesn't know.  Even after you'd set your rules (or rule, rather), it still hadn't made sense to him.  It was doing everything you always did together - buying presents, having matching gift wrap, attending your friend group’s annual holiday parties - but with a label on it.

(If Jungkook were being honest, he'd say you'd just mucked things up by pointing it out.  If you'd asked him to come to your family's Christmas dinner, he would've done so without an ounce of hesitation.  Telling him he was and expressly saying don't make it weird had decidedly made it weird.)

"Do you like her?"  Leave it to Eunha to completely eviscerate any possibility of a normal conversation.

He doesn't even need to consider the question, his answer coming before she's even finished speaking.  "She's my best friend."

"Okay, but do you like her?"

"She's my best friend," he retorts, just as emphatically. (The two of them really were like siblings, bickering just as often as the two of you did.)

"That's not really an answer."  Still, she won't let it go, stare hard, mouth set in that same forceful line.  It's so reminiscent of your own stern glare, though infinitely more effective.  Perks of being a mother, he supposes.

Put on the spot, it feels odd.  Jungkook doesn't like the attention, naturally straying from the spotlight. (He works hard in his professional life to always be above reproach and easily deflects questions when it comes to his personal life.)  Your sister isn't a force to be reckoned with, though, and he withers beneath her, discomfort stealing up his spine, knuckles blowing white around the ceramic handle of his cup.  "I don't."

"Hm."  It's evident she doesn't believe him, but he's not that bothered.  Most people have asked the same question at least once.  He's learnt not to care, focusing on the nearly two decades of friendship rather than any passing fancies.

(Because he can’t lie - he has liked you maybe once or twice.  It'd been unavoidable, a simple consequence of being best friends.  When you spent all your time with someone - someone who knew you inside out, who loved you unconditionally - it was easy to mistake platonic affection for something else.  Jungkook just didn't have the time, though, and he certainly wasn't about to lose your friendship over something as silly as a fleeting crush.)

(Not that anyone knew that.  Not you, not your cousin, not even Yoongi.)

"What?"  Why he keeps the dialogue open, he's not sure.  He should let it run its course, wave as it passes him by.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"You heard me, Jeon."

He lets it go then, falling into silence.  It's only broken when you appear again, cream cake in hand.  You settle beside him - your rightful spot - and hand him a fork, glee as bright as Christmas lights.

He doesn't miss the look your sister shoots the two of you.

It's not the first time he's seen you in a dress.  You wear them regularly enough, practically living in them in the summer months.

Still, you look good.  Incredible, in fact.  The colour pops against your skin, a lovely blue that seems to be alive, dancing under the lights as you go for your third cream puff because no one can stand between you and your love of desserts.  It complements the hue of his own suit, the textured fabric that gathers over his shoulders and stands in stark contrast to the white of his Oxford.

"You said that's your best friend?"

It's his manager, a lovely woman he's worked with for the past year and a half.  She’s kind with a round face and softly lined eyes, someone who treats him more like a son than an underling. (Jungkook appreciates that about her, even if it's at odds with the culture of their workplace.  She was just warm, endlessly friendly even when deals fell through and she was forced to pick up the pieces.)

"Yeah."

"She's very pretty," she hums, peering across the table at Jungkook with a peculiar expression.  It reminds him of that same look Eunha had shot him just two days ago, a thousand unspoken words wrapped up in the dark of her stare.  "How long have you two been friends?"

"Forever."  At least, that's how it feels.

(If he thinks hard about it, he could probably pinpoint the age, the year, even the day.  It wouldn't be hard, given you'd rolled into his life like a thunderstorm, upending everything in your path.  But that's how you'd always been - simply who you were.  People met you and they were better for it, whether they realised it or not.)

"That's very sweet."

He shrugs, swivelling his stare from your approaching figure to offer a small smile.  "She means a lot to me."  Even if she drives me insane, even if she gets cracker crumbs all over my couch.

There's that look again - Jungkook hates how easily it pins him to the spot, locking him in his seat as you take your own, setting your plate down.  It's piled high with said cream puffs and an assortment of other goodies, fresh fruit and tarts and some chocolate bonbons that make his teeth buzz by just staring at them.

"Here."  You've got one raised, held aloft in an offer he doesn't really want but accepts nonetheless.  As predicted, the cocoa is too much, heavy on his tongue, burning through his gums and making his jaw clench uncomfortably.  Still, he chews and swallows diligently, offering a quiet thank you as you pop one into your own mouth.

Someone speaks as he's sipping at his Manhattan and you're going for the finishing bite of your cream puff, soft white sugar tinting your lipstick.  "You're a lovely couple."

Unlike that time a few days ago, seated in your kitchen, this time he does choke, liquid rushing down the wrong pipe.  Chest heaving, he fights to steady his breath, vaguely aware of the way you rub soothing circles over his back.  (It probably doesn’t help the situation - makes the two of you seem even more together than before - but he appreciates the gesture because holy hell, does whisky burn.) 

“We’re not dating,”  you state, somewhere close to his head, voice soft near his ear.  You’re still touching him, calming the hacking coughs he hasn’t quite gotten control of. 

“Really?”  It comes from more than one person, joined by a nosy third.  

Of course it’s Yugyeom - perhaps one of the people he’s closest to at his company, and yet someone who he very much wants to shut up at that precise moment.  “We thought Jungkook had finally gotten a girlfriend.” 

“Nope, not me.”  You’re nonplussed, rebuffing the teasing with ease.  “Just best friends.  He didn’t want me sitting at home alone and thought free booze might help.”  It’s not true at all; if anything, you’d been the one who hadn’t wanted to be alone for the holidays, but it doesn’t seem necessary to correct you right now. 

Sometimes, it was just easier to go with the flow.  Let you lead, as you so loved to do. 

“What a nice guy.”  Yugyeom’s a good friend and better team member but right now, he’s got the stupidest grin on his face, meeting Jungkook’s stare with mischief dancing in his own.  It strikes discomfort like an ivory key, ringing loudly in his ears. 

“He is.”

It’s probably more defensive than it needs to be - you were a woman of extremes, whether that meant sleeping all day or not at all, eating a salad or three plates of pasta - and he immediately moves to soothe you.  (Oh, how the tables had turned.) 

A hand falls to your knee, decorated digits squeezing reassuringly over the bare bone, touch featherlight.  With his head bowed still, it’s easy to catch your eyes, an unspoken conversation playing out between you.  Don’t, he cautions, with all the gratitude in the world. 

Fine, he imagines you think, pout rounding into something softer, a semblance of a smile as you both straighten out. 

“No one’s quite as nice as Jungkookie.” 

Not your usual nickname for him but he appreciates the effort, the return to calm.  It means more to him than you, because you understand just how important his image is, how much hard work he’s put into getting where he is.  You might not have understood his job - software engineering?  what? - but you understood him and that’s what mattered. 

“Jeon, preheat the oven?”  

Your sister’s bumbling around the kitchen with baking sheets in her hands, too large swaths of parchment paper lining each. 

“Oh, sure.”  He’d lost you almost as soon as the two of you had arrived, pulled off to the kitchen to start prep for your family’s annual baking night.  He thinks he catches a glimpse of your big lopsided bun in the archway to the living room but he can’t be sure.  It’s too chaotic, like being around a dozen of you. 

Because your family was women-dominated, the only other men being your father, your uncle, and—

“Hyung!”  It sounds more like thank god when he sees your cousin swan in, grocery bags full of ingredients hung in the crook of his elbows and clutched in his fists. 

(It’s not that he doesn’t get along with your family.  It’s just, again, a lot and he feels as if he might be the calm in the eye of the storm.  It’s disconcerting.)

“Oh—”  Surprise flits across the oldest Kim’s expression, windshield wipers swinging into action as he makes his way to Jungkook.  Somehow, each of the bags are taken off his hands and he pulls the younger into a loose hug, ruffling his hair roughly.  “Didn’t know you’d be here too.”

“____ dragged me along.”  Or rather, their agreement had, but Jungkook’s not about to get into that.  After the strong reaction from your sister, he’s not in the mood to explain himself for the nth time. 

“She does that, huh?”

It’s rhetorical, because yes, you did.  You had for most of your life, involving Jungkook in everything you could.  From high school bake sales to college softball, anything you’d done, so had he.  (The only exception to this was when you had a partner because for whatever reason, said partner would complain about how much time you spent with Jungkook.)

(Luckily, most of them learnt their place, learnt to share.)

“—might as well be dating.”

Surely there’s more to what Jin’s said than just that but he’s somehow missed it, attention swivelling back to the other in alarm.  “What?”

“You guys might as well be dating.”  There’s very little shame in the way your cousin repeats himself, switching the oven on, utterly unbothered.  (Jungkook is reminded, not for the first time, how strong the Kim genes are - how you all just seem to be variations of the same person, headstrong and hilarious.)  “Would probably save our relatives from losing their minds.”

True as that might be, Jungkook’s pretty sure he’d lose his instead.

Or maybe he already has.  It feels like that, at least. 

Nothing’s making sense the way it normally does, too much running through his head, alcohol dulling his senses.  Liquor lingers on his tongue and he can smell it every time he speaks, every time he laughs.  (Which he’s doing often and loudly, your usual corny jokes hitting their mark when he’s eight cocktails in and sleep-deprived.  Such were the holidays.)

There’s just something about how you look right now, dressed all pretty in a slip that holds you like a lover.  He’s not used to it, all of his attention drawn to things he’d never usually focus on.

How your mouth moves - gloss-slick and pouted, so enticing he nearly stops listening when you speak - or how you swat at his arm when you’re trying to drive your point home.  (It hurts a little;  you’re rough normally but drunk, you’re ten times more flippant, edge of nails digging crescents into flesh.)  Your touch burns through his shirt, sinks all the way past cotton and skin into bone that turns to ash. 

He’s gone crazy.  He must have.

Why else would he want to kiss you so badly now, framed beneath the dimmed lights?  Someone’s come and snatched up his body and he’s just along for the ride - simply an observer with no say of his own. 

(Jungkook’s not sure what the feeling in his stomach is - whether it’s butterflies or nausea.)

All he knows is you’ve seen this movie a dozen, hundred, thousand times.  Watched it with him, in fact.  (The slow pan out, the close up, the kiss that follows.  The rising crescendo as the two leads fall in love, profess their love and apology as if all it takes is five minutes together to create a happy ending.)

And yet, he takes you completely off-guard.  You’re staring at him in that way you do - no, not that way, but the one that screams what’re you doing? - locked where you are, caught in the doorway as if you can’t make up your mind whether to go or stay.  

Your lips are softer than he could’ve imagined, since he knows your lacklustre use of lip balm - has had to carry tubes of it in his own pockets because you were notorious for leaving them everywhere and otherwise losing them.  

They’re warm and supple, not dry at all.  A little tacky, in fact, with a strong cherry flavour.  It cuts through the peppermint and chocolate, coalescing into something distinctly you.  (Even drunk as he is, vision blurred at the edges and a funny feeling tingling through his limbs, he knows it’s his favourite thing he’s ever tasted.)

If only you weren’t staring up at him like a deer caught in headlights, equal parts alarm and an emotion he can’t quite read. 

If only you hadn’t slammed your apartment door shut right in his face.

If only.

“I thought you were bringing ____?”

Of course it’s his mother who calls him out, drawing attention to the empty seat beside him.  Your name’s etched into the placecard, neatly set atop the china that’s only brought out during the holidays.  

“She was busy.”  It’s a lie - straight through his teeth and paired with a quick glance to the side.  No one notices, though.  No one’s you, after all.

The truth is, Jungkook hasn’t spoken to you since that night.  Sure, he’s stared at your name on his phone, watched your status go from offline to online, but he hasn’t said a single thing.  Hasn’t found the courage he needs to start a conversation he’s definitely not ready to have.

(What was he supposed to say anyway?  Hey, sorry for kissing you.  Not sure why I did it but we’re good, right?)

(More than that, would it even be the truth?  Did he really not know why he’d stopped you short, pressed his lips to yours and then stared down at you like you might’ve been the best Christmas gift in the world?  Had it been nothing but alcohol-fueled idiocy?)

(He’s considered acting like it never happened, pretending as if everything’s the same as it’s always been.  But that somehow feels worse, like lying to himself and he just doesn’t do that.)

“I asked you three days ago.”  The morning of your Christmas party, in fact.  Hours before he’d made the Big Mistake.  What a great reminder.

Jungkook’s grateful for this poker face, expression devoid of emotion, tone clipped yet polite.  “Something came up, eomma.”  It’s an indication the conversation’s over, the question stopped dead in its tracks.  He’d never outright tell his mother off - he’d die before doing so - but this is enough, has her nodding solemnly, topic changed almost seamlessly.

Someone asks about the latest acquisition by his father’s company, his cousin mentions he and his girlfriend are looking for a place, and everything feels normal.  

Until it isn’t and his brother is bringing it up again, tone soft, coaxing, but insistent.  Question poised in a way that only he could get away with as his older sibling.  “What really happened?”  At least Jung Hyun has the decency to keep his voice down, practically whispering the words to the younger Jeon.

“Nothing,”  Jungkook grits out in between bites of his prime rib, spearing a piece of meat more aggressively than he needs to.  (He doesn’t miss his mother’s glance from the edge of his periphery, the subtle thinning of her mouth.  The concern is palpable, cutting through the white noise even after she’s refocused her attention, leaning back into whatever conversation she’d been having before.)

It’s brotherly love that compels Jung Hyun to push the envelope, force his little brother’s hand.  He’s clearly worried as he reaches out, tapping the tines of his fork over decorated skin.  “Doesn’t seem like nothing.”  

“Can we not talk about this right now?”  Despite patience wearing thin, discomfort turning him petulant and frustrated, Jungkook appreciates the effort his sibling is making.  It’s not what he wants right now, but who was to say it wasn’t what he needed?

(There were just people who knew him better.  His brother, his mother, you.)

“Then let’s get a drink.”  

Ice clinks in his glass and he tries to ignore the way Jung Hyun’s stare feels like it’s melting him, eyes never straying from his little brother’s furrowed brow and hunched shoulders.  

“So?”  

“Nothing happened,”  Jungkook says, exasperated, draining liquid in one fell swoop.  He knows he’s thisclose to giving in, to laying everything out.  It’s equal parts demoralising and relieving, knowing there’s finally someone he can talk to.  

(He just doesn’t, well, talk usually.  Emotions don’t get the best of him.  It’s why he excels in his field, working to meet stressful deadlines, barely batting an eye when everything goes to shit the day before launch.  Good as he was at most things, internalising was his thing.)

“C’mon, Kook.”  

It’s the nickname that has him relenting, cage of his teeth groaning beneath the weight of his tribulations.  One beat, two, a third and then a forth.  He knows Jung Hyun’s about to try again.

“We kissed.”

“Holy shit.”  

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, breaches the quiet and then echoes loudly.  It’s derisive, not at all the gleeful witch’s cackle Jungkook normally offers.  It’s dressed in thorns and regret and cuts his throat on its way up, leaving his breath to fall into a sad little sigh.  “Yeah.”

“She wasn’t into it?”

That’s the thing, isn’t it?  Jungkook has no idea and now days have passed and he feels like more of an idiot than he ever has.  He’s sat with it for so long (in reality, not that long but tell that to someone who’s never out of control, whose entire life follows a set pattern) that it’s all just become a jumbled mess, taking up too much space in his thoughts and leaving him confused.  

“I don’t think so.”  If your abrupt closing of the door was any indication, you likely hated it - but he also didn’t want to assume.  He needed an answer, a decisive yes or no.  

(Though, he doesn’t think he’ll survive if you turn him down.  If he’s just ruined nearly two decades of friendship, it’s more likely he’ll hole up in his apartment and only come out after using up all of his vacation time to wallow in self-pity.)

(Which is in and of itself not a very Jungkook-like thing to do, so he already knows he’s screwed.  Knows that no matter what, he’s out of mind and out of sorts and will likely shoot himself in his own foot before he makes any progress.)

(See his problem?  He’s already gone crazy.)

Jung Hyun’s patient though, doing for him what he’s always done for you.  Talking him off that ledge, holding his hand while he nearly spirals into oblivion.  “You don’t think so?”  

“Well, she slammed the door in my face.” 

“Oh.”  

“Yeah.”

Silence stretches, pulls on and on above their heads, and Jungkook wishes he hadn’t finished his drink so quickly.  The burn would help right about now, distract him from the way he’s picking at a hangnail.  Maybe it’d give him the liquid courage he needs to just do something.  Anything.

“You should talk to her.”  

“Did you not just hear what I said?  She slammed—”

“But did she say anything?” 

“I think that’s a pretty loud and clear answer, hyung.”

“You never know.  Maybe she was just surprised.”  

“And maybe she hates me.”

“I mean, probably, but—”

“Thanks, hyung.”  Still, Jungkook laughs - can’t help it when his brother shoots him a grin that mirrors his own.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“For once, can you just listen to your big brother?”  

As it turns out, Jungkook can’t.  Outright refuses and suffers through another three days of radio silence.  Sees you, again, crop up on social media, beaming up at him from the small of his screen.  Watches as you make a mess of Jin’s kitchen and end up with a face covered in red icing, as you sit your niece on your shoulders and run around your apartment while belting awful Christmas carols.

Maybe it’s his fault for checking Instagram so much, for clicking on every single story your friends and family post.  

He misses you.  God, how he misses you.

(Since the day you’d cemented yourself as his best friend, he doesn’t think he’s gone more than a day without talking to you, more than a week without seeing you.  This is fraying his nerves, leaving him needy and wrought with anxiety.)

(This is why best friends don’t date, why he’d have preferred to take his feelings to the grave.)

You’re so far away that he half expects not to see you at the annual New Year’s Eve party, the one he’s responsible for hosting this year.  

When you appear in his doorway, three wine bottles clutched in your arms, he’s not sure who’s more surprised.  (You, somehow, wrangle your expression into something else - a brilliant smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes - and he simply stares, speechless.  He catches it though, that twinkle of uncertainty before it’s eclipsed.) 

“Hi.”  Of course you sound the same as you always have.  Bright, sunny, with a million rays of light streaming past your teeth.  “Happy new year!”

It takes Jungkook far too long to find his voice, lost to the warmth of your smile that doesn’t feel quite right.  Too forced, burning through his skin until he’s uncomfortable and itchy under the collar.  “Hi.”

You’d normally peck his cheek, give him a hug, something.  You blame it on the bottles you’re carrying, shuffling past him without making contact, held in your own personal bubble.  “I’ve got to set these down but we’ll catch up later, yeah?”  It’s not a promise and not what he wants.  You’re going to disappear for the rest of the night and he’s going to be left soothing this sunburn.

He doesn’t say that, though.  Only nods mechanically and watches as you dance off.  “Sure.”

You deserve a medal, a gold star for how well you avoid him throughout the night, peeking in and out of rooms.  Any time Jungkook catches a glimpse of you, you’re gone in the next instant, disappearing behind one of your friend’s backs, suddenly in need of a refill.

The one time it’s just the two of you in the hallway - him coming from the washroom, you presumably heading there - you spin on your heel and turn tail, gone so quickly he wonders if it was his imagination.  

Were you really that mad?  Had he fucked things up that badly?

“____,”  he calls the next time he finds you - hours later, much to his chagrin - alone in the kitchen with champagne in one hand and your head ducked into his fridge.  It’s less than a minute to midnight and everyone’s gathered outside, crowded along his balcony and cheering loudly in anticipation of the Coex fireworks.  (He’d purposely come back in, awkwardly trailed after you when you’d offered to grab another bottle.)

You don’t immediately turn and he worries you haven’t heard.  How stupid would he look if he tried again?  (Were you just ignoring him?)

But then you’re facing him, that same mask from earlier fitted unnecessarily across your face.  Your eyes are tight, unblinking, even as you smile, cock your head adorably.  “What’s up?”

“Can we talk?”  It’s not something he asks of you often.  (In fact, he could probably count the amount of times he’s made the request on one hand.)  He holds his ground though, mouth slipping into a characteristic pout that he thinks - hopes, really - might crumble your resolve.

(You may have known all of his weaknesses but he knew yours too.  Knew how cute you found his puppy dog eyes, the round of his cheeks when he’d puff them out with air.)

There’s momentary clarity, your stare softening, the line of your jaw growing slack.  Then you’re glancing past him, out to the gaggle of people beyond his shoulder and he feels his heart stutter uncomfortably, stomach dropping all thirty-six stories past his feet.  “Can it wait?”  You’re not cruel, offering the question softly. 

It can’t.  He can’t.

“No.” 

You huff and he swears he mirrors the motion, same annoyed exhale slipping out.  

(If he’d hated the silence, he thinks he might hate this more.  The two of you don’t fight.  Bicker, certainly.  Drive each other crazy for fun, definitely.  But this antagonism that makes him feel like a stranger in his own home?  This is new and awful.)

“What do you want to talk about?”  You’re guarded, arms crossed.  All Jungkook wants to do is unfold them and bring you into his arms, tickle your sides until you’re whining and laughing and giving him the affection he suddenly craves.  

(He’s never wanted it more in his life and maybe that’s why it’s so strong now - need leaping five octaves in a single breath.  It’s as if he’d been deprived all his life and now he’s had a taste and can’t help himself.)

“I’m sorry,”  he mumbles, quiet, so much emotion threaded into the words.  It turns them heavy, makes them hard to hold, but he needs to get them out, make you understand how apologetic he really is.

“For what?”  

He hadn’t expected that.  “What?”

“What’re you sorry for?”  You’re repeating yourself with a scowl but you’re also doing that thing you do, nibbling at your bottom lip as you try not to meet his eyes, bouncing your gaze around the room.  

(Were you nervous?  He could’ve sworn you were.)

The question still doesn’t have an answer, all his thoughts swirling in a tumultuous wave.  They sweep him out to sea, away from the safety of the shore, and he worries he might drown as he looks at you and sees all the things he might lose.  

“Kook?”  

Say something.

Seconds tick by and you’re biting harder now.  The crowd outside is louder, chanting the countdown.  He can barely hear himself think, has trouble articulating the onslaught of emotion that swells and swallows him whole.  Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed this.  Maybe things would’ve gone back to normal if he’d left well enough alone.

A million what if’s play in his head - and then he hears a chorus of happy new year!

He crosses to you in three long steps, catches your face in his hands, and kisses you again, just like last time. 

It’s not an answer in the traditional sense but he doesn’t care.  

His apology comes once more, muffled against your lips, lost to a breath he inhales shakily, entire body rattling with uncertainty.  At least you haven’t pushed him away, though he swears you’re ready to, palms warm over his chest, fingers curled into the collar of his sweater.  

“Stop saying that.” 

He thinks he’s imagined that, pulling back just enough to see the entirety of your expression, the dazed look in your eyes.  So different from last time, endlessly softer, tender.  “What?”

“If you’re going to kiss me,”  you’re speaking into his chest but he can hear you crystal clear,  “just commit to it.”

He will.  He does.

He kisses you again, sweet and chaste, one hand threaded into the silk of your hair, the other cradling your jaw.  He kisses you for a third time, different yet the same, riddled with nerves and reminiscent of childhood crushes.  He kisses you once more, nearly groans when he steals the prettiest sound from your lips.  

Jeon Jungkook is on cloud nine - lit up like the night sky because he can still hear the fireworks going off.  

“Is this okay?”  How he manages to ask when every fibre of his being is screaming at him to keep going is a feat and he’d be patting himself on the back if you weren’t so lovely, holding all of his attention in the frame of your smile.

“Can you just stop thinking for one second?”

He wants to say yes - prove himself as he always does - but he knows that’s exactly the opposite of what you want.  Reads it in your movements, how you step closer and bat those long lashes at him.  How’s he supposed to function when you’ve short-circuited his insides? 

But that’s the point, isn’t it?  To let himself feel?

Maybe you were right, just this once.

Jungkook has simply watched too many rom-coms, sat through too many Hallmark specials you’d insisted on.  (You loved them, even when the plots were awful and the acting was worse, the leads misunderstanding even the most basic of things.  “It’s cute,”  you’d cry, glaring at him from behind a glaze of tears, sniffling into your popcorn when everything went to hell right before the perfectly wrapped up climax.)

Because this doesn’t feel anything like he expects it to.  It’s still too awkward and stilted, framed by fluttering, nervous laughter and a tremor in his hands he’s never dealt with before.

(If he thinks hard about it, he knows exactly why it’s like this.  Why he’s so uncertain as he guides your shirt over your head, the same soft thing he’s seen you wear a thousand times.  How the fabric bunches in his fists and spills like silk between his knuckles.  The way his heart does a strange two-tap against his rib cage, as if tapping out and giving up.)

(He’s been waiting for this for longer than he could’ve ever imagined, than he ever thought possible.)

“What?”  You ask, chirp in that lilting voice of yours, so sugar spun sweet and cocoa-dusted.  A mug of hot chocolate that warms him from the inside out, makes his head spin with how nice it sounds, settling against his eardrums like cotton balls.  There’s hesitation in your eyes - a sparkle of his same restlessness that calms his own just a little.

“What?”  He repeats back at you, maybe a little dumbly.  

(It probably is dumb.  He’s got your shirt halfway off your body, your arm still hooked through one arm hole, the rest of your body in fuzzy focus as he stares down at you.)

“You’re staring like I’ve got something on my face.”  

“You don’t.”

“Then why are you staring?”

He asks himself that same question, turns it over and over in his head.  It’d make sense for him to consider his words carefully, weigh them before they come tumbling out of his mouth.  (He doesn’t.)  “You’re really pretty.”

The laugh that elicits should be illegal, chiming bells that scrunch up your nose and have your lashes casting dark shadows across your cheeks.

“You think so?”  

Of course he does.  He always has - he just hadn’t realised it.  “Yeah.”

It’s not plucked straight from a movie scene, nor is it likely the things dreams are made of.  It still feels just as good when you smile at him - offer the thing he’s found home in for the last decade and a half - and reach a hand to his face, cradling his jaw in the small of your palm.  It’s so warm he wonders whether you’ve got stardust lined beneath your skin, whether you’re working those little fragments of wonder into his own being where you touch him.

“I want this.”  It’s music to his ears.  He’d like to hear you say it again, which you do, with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  Not the teasing tone you normally take, riddled with half-formed thorns and platonic affection, but something more.  Something that burns bright in his bones and illuminates him from the inside.  “I want you.  You don’t have to be so shy.”

So you’d been able to tell, because of course you had.  Just as you knew when he was lying, you knew every other tell too.  (The way he’d touch his ears when he was excited, how he’d sit on his hands when he was shy, the three octaves his voice would skip when he was nervous.  You knew them all and wanted him despite them - because of them.)

He supposes he’s grateful for it, even as it only adds to the bashfulness swelling in his chest, blooming colour over his cheeks. 

“Yeah?”  God, Jungkook, get it together.

“Yeah,”  you parrot, laughing as you tug your arm from its vice and proceed to loop both around his neck, bringing him closer.  

It’s a position you’ve been in a dozen times - arms around his neck, going for a hug - but this stirs something else.  Shoots a dizzying bolt of desire straight from his toes to the tips of his fingers.  It branches out from his chest, weaving into every limb, guiding him closer until he’s chest to chest, the warmth of you filling all the spaces between.  

“Don’t forget you asked for it,”  he rumbles, tries to sound like someone he isn’t by the way he offers the words, tries to come across cool and suave and not so into his best friend that it could send him straight to a padded white room.  

You call him on it immediately, rolling your eyes and patting his cheek affectionately.  “Do your worst, Jeon.”  

Whether it’s a challenge or not, he takes it as such, one arm caging you in by your head, the other falling to his side.  Your side.  Where fingers graze, inked digits drifting up the velvet that spans your ribs, that traces delicate over the lace that holds you together.  Bright red with scallop trimming - something he never imagined you’d wear but that he adores all the same.  It looks so good on you, a cardinal that demands his attention even as he tries to focus on the emotions that dance in your stare, forming your mouth into a smile that gives him heart palpitations.

“You mean best,”  he mumbles, meeting your eyes one last time before lids are sliding shut, movements guided by the familiarity that only comes with years and years together.

When your lips meet - for only the fifth time in his twenty-five years - it’s nothing like the first and yet strangely similar.  It’s just as soft as that initial peck, tentative and sweet.  Filled with things he can’t say, that he’s not sure how to articulate but that he hopes you understand. 

It’s nice, he thinks.  

And then you’re kissing him back.  Really kissing him, taking the lead when he doesn’t expect it.  Slanting your mouth over his, nibbling at his bottom lip in the same way he’s watched you do to your own. 

Holy shit.

As much as he doesn’t want it to end - can’t get enough of the taste of you, how faded cherry Chapstick and champagne and that god awful spearmint gum you love melds together - he has to stop.  Needs to reel himself back before you’ve pulled him beneath your spell, left him stranded with nowhere to go.

“What?”  You ask again, feigned innocence stamped across your face.  A mask that looks so pretty he can’t help but glare down at you.  

He’s not sure how he means his next words but they come freely, tumbling past his teeth with more grit than he expects.  “Don’t be a bad girl.”

Something changes then.  Snaps into place like every little part of the universe has aligned.  A realisation that hits him straight in the gut and has your fingers curling into the downy strands at the nape of his neck. 

When your lips meet again - sixth time, because Jungkook’s got to keep count - it’s not soft.  It isn’t sweet.  It’s years of something he’d never been able to place, the greatest Christmas gift he could’ve ever asked for.  It’s your tongue against his, your teeth sharp and searing and it’s him, hugging you so close he wonders whether it’s his kiss that’s making you breathless or how tightly he’s holding you.

“What if I want to be?”  

God, he could laugh at that.  He almost does, the sound spilling past in a shaky exhale.  

(Part of him knows how utterly cheesy he’s being.  How utterly cheesy you’re being.  He doesn’t mind.  He’s not lactose intolerant, after all.)

“You wanna be on the naughty list?”  Even it sounds silly to his ears, torn straight from the books of some weirdo pickup artist.  You’re laughing though, giggling because you’ve never found him anything but endearing (okay, probably not true, but whatever) and that’s enough.

“Maybe.”

“You’re crazy.”  He means it as kindly as possible, in the best way imaginable.

“Crazy for you,”  you correct, smug.  

Jeon Jungkook is composed.  He’s smart and responsible and looks at the big picture.  He doesn’t let things get to him and he certainly doesn’t gape like a fish.  His poker face is immaculate (which is probably why he’s no longer invited to his friend’s games).  

Except he is - gaping, that is - staring down at you with wonder.  “Really?”

There’s another roll of your eyes, prominent and exaggerated.  He knows there’s nothing bad meant by it so he lets it slide, doesn’t pull away even as he repeats himself.  

“How many times do I have to tell you, Jeon?”  

“Preferably a lot more.”  He’s shameless.  Figures he’s allowed to be, after waiting all this time.  (After kissing you in a drunken stupor, after wallowing in his own self-imposed exile for too many days.  This is what he deserves - to take and take if you’re so ready to give.)

“Then earn it.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

There were different kinds of satisfaction, different ways to swell pride in his chest.  A multitude of methods he could excel at, to receive all the praise he’s always been so eager for.  Pleasure from a job well done, for going above and beyond, doing things better than anyone else could’ve.  Delight from being right, from a smug I told you so.  Triumph from conquering the hardest of tasks, overcoming something mighty and terrible.

And then there was this - the warmth that unfurls in his chest, stringing his heart up in pretty pink ribbon, holding his head aloft like a marionette doll.  

It’s something else entirely, fizzling delight in his stomach, feeding the beast that demands more more more.  

“Good girl,”  he praises, offering his adoration without hesitation, dressing you in the glory of his affection.  Gone is the careful reluctance, the removed politesse.  It’s replaced now, dripping in sweetness so thick it might as well be molasses, trickling over your skin as his tongue does the same.  He traces your hip, your thigh, your hands - pulls a digit past his lips and savours in the reaction it elicits.  “Pretty girl.”

He repeats the motions over and over, gliding figure eights with the wet of his tongue, gently grazing the edge of his teeth when you’ve calmed, too close to composure for his liking.  

“You’re so good for me.”  One hand hooks possessive around your knee, pushes it wide as he admires you laid out beneath him.  Skin flushed, he can feel your warmth radiating through every inch.  It begs him to come closer, to sit by the fire a little while longer.  

With a tender kiss to the velvet of your inner thigh, he drops, seals his mouth over your clit and sucks.  You buck beneath him, might take out an eye with the way your arms flail, fingers seeking stability over his shoulders, digging into the firm muscle that pads his back.  He can’t help but laugh, sound vibrating through to your core, tongue punishing against the delicate pearl sealed between his lips.

“Another?”  He begs, pleads, asks so sweetly, and you can’t deny him, glazed over in the eyes, chest heaving, hands shaking.  He knows you can’t but he asks anyway, because it’s important you want this just as much as him.  (Jungkook refuses to be in the dark ever again, far too comfortable in the light of your laughter, your love.)

“Please,”  you return, though it’s the strangest he’s ever heard you.  Out of breath and reedy, stilted in a way that makes his cock twitch, head spinning with desire.

(It doesn’t matter you’ve gone two rounds and he can’t possibly survive another.  You do something to him.)

A quiet sound comes and he sinks further, licks a fat stripe from your slick entrance all the way to your quivering clit.  Dips his tongue past clenching muscle and moans, drunk on the taste of you.  It’s a messy affair and he can’t be blamed, saliva pooling in his mouth when you whine his name and pull his hair just right.  (You’ve always been loud but he’d never imagined this.  It’s a soundtrack he’d like on repeat.)

“Let go for me, pretty girl.”  The pet name comes easily, made for you.  (Even before all this, Jungkook would’ve been lying if he’d said you weren’t pretty.  You were gorgeous, beautiful, captivating.)  “Tell me what you need.”

You sob, yank at his roots, and he chuckles, gliding his tongue up your slit.  

“Use your words, ____.”

“M-more.”

“More?”  He repeats, deceptively sweet, eyes glossy and warm and filled to the brim with emotion.  Round like Bambi’s as he presses a finger into your heat, sinks straight to the third knuckle and nearly loses his mind from the way you gasp.  You’re honey-dipped and yielding, supple and slick beneath his hands, his tongue, his mouth.  

It’s like a drug - the sound of your voice so drastically different.  Higher, breathless, sinful as it sinks against Jungkook’s eardrums and encourages him to bring you to a spectacular finish.  He wants to hear more of it, needs it like he needs air.

You’re a beautiful mess, so close to the edge he can feel your walls constrict around him when he adds another two fingers, fucks into you with purposeful twists of his wrist.  He’s certain the oversensitivity must hurt but you’re so good for him, taking all he has to offer and begging for more.  

His name is a staccato cry, a symphony of sound that breaks when he curls his fingers and assaults the bundle of nerves against your front wall.  

It’s only fitting you usher in the new year with a bang.

The next morning comes in fragmented bits and pieces, paired with a headache that sits right behind his eyes and aches his limbs.  As much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, he’s not the spry spring chicken he used to be.  The shots of tequila don’t go down the way they did before, the all-night parties forcing him to sleep for a good twelve hours to recover.

Last night was worth it though.  Six hundred million percent worth it.

You’re still in his arms, curled against his chest, cheek smooshed to his arm which has all but gone numb.  He won’t move it, though.  Couldn’t even dream of it when you’re strangely peaceful, features arranged so pretty.  You’re usually the biggest ball of energy - sometimes too much - and this is nice.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over how nice.

Jungkook can’t stop touching you, needs to be near you, revolving around you like some sort of poor lost planet.  Circles you when you drift into the kitchen, shower-warm and adorable.  

(Has he always been like this?  It doesn’t feel wrong - just more of the same.  But again.  More more more.)

“Can we get coffee?”  You don’t seem to mind the way he drapes himself across your back, indulging in the way you smell like him but not.  How the clean scent of his body wash seems about a dozen times better when it’s laid over your skin.  “If we’re going to make it to my cousin’s, I need caffeine.”

He doesn’t doubt that.  He’s seen the way you drain three cups before noon on your bad days, so jittery by 2 p.m. that he worries for your heart. 

“We have to go grab ingredients anyways, right?” 

“Yeah - Jin will murder me if we show up empty-handed.”

That, Jungkook doubts.  The two of you were inseparable - two sides of the same weird Kim-coin.  If anything, he’d pat your cheek, give you a faux reprimand, and that’d be it.  (Jin always made too much food anyways, or so you said.  It’s why you always brought your best friend leftovers, so much food shoved into ceramic containers that he wouldn’t have to cook for at least a week.)

“What’re we making again?”  If he stops to consider it, he’d probably remember.  He’s got a good memory - great, in fact - but right now he’s too occupied, distracted by the way your hair tickles his chin, the warmth radiating off you as he traps you between himself and the kitchen counter.

“Banana brulee hotteok!”

Right.  He’s had them before, when he was your guinea pig the first year you started making them.  They’d been terrible then, though he really had no idea how you’d managed to mess them up.  He’d powered through it, though.  Devoured the sickly sweet pancakes until he’d felt as if he’d explode.

Just best friend things or something.

Friend things.

Friend.

He realises, standing there in his kitchen, that he has no idea what the two of you are now.  The realisation startles him, leaves him terribly still even as you extract yourself from his arms, halfway out of the kitchen before you turn around.

“Kook?”  You’ve got his keys in one hand and his favourite hoodie in the other.  It’s, again, so familiar and yet not.  Tinged with something he’s not quite sure how to approach, that keeps him staring at you without really seeing. 

You repeat yourself, a little louder this time.

“What are we?”  Was it too soon to ask?  Was he pushing for something?  (More importantly, was that bad?  Would you turn him down even after last night?)

By the expression on your face - a blend of amused and surprised - he thinks not.  You’re smiling too big, mouth stretched wide and your cheeks so doughy they might as well be bread.  It’s how you look when you’re at your happiest.  (Like that time you saw those two dogs riding with that guy on his bike or when you perfected your hotteok recipe and your grandmother had showered you in praise.  It’s the thing that outshines the sun, dazzling to look at it, blinding in its intensity.)

There’s a chorus of laughter in your voice when you step back, retrace your path back to him.  He wonders how he keeps his eyes on you, how his sight hasn’t been stolen by those glittering golden rays.  “What do you think we are?”  

He answers honestly, because that’s the kind of guy Jungkook is.  Practical, reasonable, forward.  (Sometimes, at least.)  “I don’t know.”

Your laughter sweeps his concerns up in its hands, folds them into neat paper cranes.  It coaxes them from their hiding spots and dispels them like summer dragging over the horizon.  When your hand finds his, fingers twining together - familiar, different, familiar, different - you squeeze and he swears he feels it all the way in the centre of his chest, in perfect rhythm with the erratic beat of his heart.

“We can be anything you want to be.”  

Would that really be okay?  He’s used to asking for the things he wants - comes with the territory of being a workaholic type A personality, always eager for more, to impress and wow and simply do well.  Still, he hesitates, just a bit, coherence seemingly stolen.

“Well?”  You squeeze again, knuckles knocking together, and he finds his confidence between the bones, threaded into the skin that spans over his. 

“We’re together.”  He says it unsure but so hopeful.  Not even his stutter can deter him.

Your repetition is an affirmation and a promise, sealed with a kiss that tastes like forever.  “We’re together.”

So you’re late.  Just a half an hour.  It can’t be that big of a deal.  You were always late for things, dragging Jungkook to your level of irresponsibility with just one bat of your lashes, one sing-song breath.

(For once, he doesn’t mind.  It’d been his fault, after all.  Who was he to deny you when you’d had sugar coating your fingers and your lips, a treat that begged to be indulged in?  He was only a man and he was so into you.  He couldn’t have possibly said no when you’d kissed him once, praised him for his help torching the bananas atop the hotteok.  He couldn’t have said no when you’d fed him a still-warm piece, slipping a digit past his lips, pad of your finger brushing over his tongue.)

(He’d spent most of his life saying no to you but he wanted to say yes now.)

“Jin—”  You’ve taken five steps forward, five steps into the home that’s bustling with noise, when he rounds on you, windshield wiper laugh coming to a screeching halt.

“Finally!”  

Jungkook thinks you must blush in tandem by how Jin’s stare bounces between the two of you.  (The silly voice in his head insists that he knows, that your cousin knows exactly why you’re both late.  But he can’t, because that’d be crazy, right?)

(You’d brushed your hair and washed your face;  he’d fixed his clothes and pulled a thick sweater on to hide the tiny bruise you’d left despite his protests.  The two of you were perfectly acceptable, picturesque when you’d strode through that door.)

(And yet Jin keeps staring at him, at you, full mouth drawn into a thin line.)

(What?)

“What?”  The question doesn’t mean to come, tripping off Jungkook’s tongue of its own accord.

When Jin turns his full attention to him, the younger feels like he might just leap out of his skin.  He’s never been uncomfortable around your family but there’s just something—

“You did it.”  

“Did what?”  His cousin?  Well, he’s not wrong but surely—

“You freaking did it!”

“Did what?”  This time it’s you, exasperated and awkward, shoving the plate of hotteok toward Jin even while you refuse to meet his stare.  It’s painfully obvious you’re hiding something.  You’ve never really had a great poker face.

“You owe me dinner.”  

Now that throws Jungkook for a loop, tears all of his focus from you to your cousin.  

“What?”  It seems to be a popular word tonight, uttered at every available interval.  

“____ didn’t tell you?”  Jin looks as if he’s on the brink of losing it, shoulders shaking, restrained laughter spilling past his lips.  “I bet her you guys would end up together at some point.  She said I was crazy.”  There’s pride in his eyes, glittering when he slaps his hand out, palm face up.  “Pay up.”

You won’t even look at Jungkook, smacking your cousin’s hand away as you push past.

“We’re holidating,”  you say, just like you said that first night when you’d brought your best friend along and your family members - at least, the ones he’d never met before - had all but pounced on the appearance of a newcomer. 

A smile splits Jungkook’s mouth as you stomp away, disappearing into the kitchen.  He’s not even bothered when he pulls his wallet out, offering Jin his winnings like a gracious loser.  “We’re actually dating.”

Your cousin doesn’t bat an eye, pocketing the neatly folded bills.  “About time.”

Jungkook thinks so too. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​ @codeinebelle​​ @jeonmisha​​ @devilion14​​ @bobbyboops​​ @yxnxxli​​ 

[stars-of-kyber]

Hi :-) I really like all your kanthony fics. I am soo excited for the next updates of You Belong With Me. And no worries. Life can get busy and we will wait for it when it is ready. I am just super curious. Have you ever thought of writing a Kanthony ballet AU? Also, I super excited to learn that you have other unpublished WIPS. What are they about? Take care in 2023!

Hello! Honestly listening to this makes my day. Thank you very much ❤️ December is always such a hard time for me because of the end of school year and when I finally had time and thought “gonna write so much now!” I got this massive block 😞 but I’m working my way around it. Knowing that people like it make me even more excited to write really.

I HAVE a Kathony Ballet AU!

It doesn’t have a name yet but I made a Moodboard after watching one of my sister’s presentations last December (she’s a professional dancer, not ballet tho)

“Kate Sharma danced in many professional companies across from Europe until an invitation to dance for Aubrey Hall Ballet Company brings her back home. But nothing good comes easy and she’ll have to come head to head with Anthony Bridgerton, once one of the biggest starts of the modern ballet world, now a harsh, demanding, frustrating choreographer after a knee injury removed him from the dance scene. He definitively wont make her life easy. Neither will the explosive tension between them. But it’s alright, two can play this game.”

I have 6 WIPS, 2 one-shot series and a bunch of random One-shots plus the prompts you guys send me here on Tumblr (I promise I see them all and they are all being worked on or thought about very carefully and with a lot of love) that I am currently working on, some more than others.

Of course You Belong With Me is right now my primary focus (together with the Christmas one-shot) and I love them very much.

My Bodyguard x Princess AU, Of Noble Blood, is always very near and dear to my heart and I have about three chapters of it ready (unfortunately the first one if not one of them but I’m close to finishing it… eventually)

There is also Baby Mine that WILL BE FINISHED I PROMISE.

My Rockstar x Personal Assistant, I Found You (Now Everything is Music) is there staring at me waiting for me to go back to the five written paragraphs I have of it. Along with Lost, Drifting, my Memory Loss World War I AU that has the first chapter ready then I got stuck halfway through chapter II and now it’s there judging me every time I start a new WIP.

My one shot series, True Colours, my soulmates AU is my huge huge baby and I love it SO MUCH and it’s there, I desperately want to get it done but every time I open one of the docs nothing comes out. All chapters have cute names and I started like 5 of them with varying degrees of success. The other, the Book Swap one, I’m currently working on the first One-Shot that will be called The Viscount and I and I’m sure you can get where I’m going with this.

Most of them have moodboards bc I have so much fun making them and You Belong with Me and Of Noble Blood even have like a STRUCTURE, like I know how many chapters will be and what will happen in each of them (I am absolutely not a planner and this is actually a first for me yay. Most of my writing docs is just a jumbled up mess of parts that somehow I manage to work together into a story and given moment. I do not write linearly so when an idea comes I just skip some lines and write a completely different scene. My head is a mess, forgive me lol)

I think I posted most of my moodboards with the summaries, but if you can’t find them I can post them again for you 😊

[highdefinitions]

Tag Game To Better Know You!

Send this to people you'd like to know better!

thanks for the tags @shutupdevvie <:3

What book are you currently reading?

i don't know why i've done this but right now i'm reading like...three books at once. i'm not sure why because i never do this but for some reason it's become this but ANYWHO i'm reading summer of night by dan simmons (enjoying very much ! i love a good horror novel), the american roommate experiment by elena armas (i never do not finish a but but i might dnf this one i don't think it's really for me), and don't let the cold in by kelly parrack (i love ya mystery/thriller novels i don't know why but they are so special)

What do you usually wear?

it depends how i'm feeling...sometimes i am a sweatpants girl all the time, sometimes i'm a jeans girl all the time. recently i've really been rocking the jeans and since it's colder i like to layer stuff. i try to keep it somewhat casual idk. just got docs for christmas so i've been wearing those a lot but usually i'm a high top converse girl those are my ride or die shoes

How tall are you?

...i'm 5'3. my license says 5'2, but i think i'm 5'3...small

What's your star sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or historical event?

i'm a scorpio !! i just learned that i share a bday with a twitch streamer i've recently started to really love so that's cool and fun (jubby nation !!)

Do you go by your name or a nickname?

uhhh well...about that...percy isn't my real name OMG SHOCKER!! but i don't mind nicknames for it btw...as for in real life and what people call me...sort of. my real name has a nickname for it but i'm not the biggest fan of it and for some reason only certain people can call me it and get away with it

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be as a child?

uh no. maybe also sort of yes. when i was a kid, i wanted to be a vet and i started to go to school for that but then i was like THIS SUCKS LOL and i was having a lot of mental health issues pertaining to being in those classes so i said FUCK THIS and changed my major (which is totally valid for anyone to do btw i know it's hard as fuck though to get over the mental hill of that) but i do sort of run like a side hustle dogsitting and i also do some work on a farm so i still get to work with animals :)

What is something you’re good as vs. something you’re bad at?

i'm good at...being obsessed with things. IDK FUCK!! i guess i'm good at escape rooms (ohhh my goddd that sounds so lame but i am) and i'm really bad at like...everything else. i have such a hard time staying on task and managing my time properly

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what's your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?

you know i think i have a lot of favorite lines that i will fawn over (at least one probably in everything i write) because i try to get like one REALLY GOOD one in there but i think all time, the one that takes the motherfucking cake, is that line from closest to heaven. you know what i'm talking about. the one where josh says "I'm not a particularly religious person, but I do sometimes think that something divine had a hand in creating you." yeah that one. that one might be my favorite.

Dogs or cats?

i used to be anti-cat but then i GREW TF UP!!! come on people. i want both. i've never had a cat before but i definitely plan on getting one in the future. they're so silly and fun. i've always had dogs though, so i don't think i'd be able to go without those either. my dog is my bff <3

What's something you would like to create content for?

i think i have a lot of ideas for things and i will occasionally write things (that will never see the light of day) for what i'm interested in. i think the whole lore for the band ghost is so cool (even though tobias sometimes does make it the most ridiculous thing Ever). that's just an example by the way, i just think anything really Lore Heavy is so awesome and could be so fun to explore and write stuff for because there's So Much There, you know? i could probably talk all about that for a really long time but i will spare you

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with?

oh geez. i am always obsessed with something. recently i've been very into the group chat (isaacwhy, softwilly, yumi, bigt, larry, and grunk). i think they're some silly funny guys. also been pretty into cartoons again which is fun to try and attempt to heal my inner child. always obsessed with dr. pepper and music. been really really enjoying the new boygenius record. if you want to see more stuff i'm into, i would check the caard i have in my navigation post. i'm always forgetting something.

What's something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

there was definitely something !! there definitely was !! i just cannot for the life of me remember it ?? maybe i guess the like little two week vacation i went on during the summer ?? i knew it probably wasn't going to be the best time of my life considering some stuff that happened the year before but i still really like the daytime stuff we do, the shit at night bums me out (this probably doesn't make sense to you unless you're dev and you know the whole story but explaining the entire story to all of you would probably be longer than any fic i've ever written so)

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

i'm going to give a bullshit cop out answer and say writing because no one really knows that i'm Okay at it sometimes

What's something you wish to have at this moment?

time and motivation to WRITE goddamn seasonal affective disorder is kicking me in the teeth

literally the only person i will tag is @gretagolden but if you would like to feel free to do it also !!

[mosaic-system]

Hi there Lovely! I saw your reblog on my post and just personally wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas <3 I hope you don't mind!

I understand that it may be a hard day, so I'm wishing and hoping that it is at least very peaceful for you all! And that you're able to have the time to take good care of yourselves!!

Stay safe and Happy Holidays <3

- Riri 💜

Thank you! I definitely still appreciate the well wishes even though it’s a hard time for us.

It won’t be a good time, but I know we’ve made it through every year before. And I know based off this pattern we will also make it though this year.

I am blessed to be out of an abusive situation for the first time this Christmas, and I have a lovely cat and dog that are blissfully unaware of the holidays and they do not expect me to be happy in order to show me love and affection, and that thought is the biggest thing keeping me going right now, and I think that’s enough

Wishing you all a lovely holiday and I hope we aren’t too much of a downer on this post, I am very happy that those who celebrate abd can feel the joy, and I am always excited to encourage those of you who do celebrate to go all out with your celebrations!

For those that don’t, we understand end send all thoughts of peace and perseverance.

-Cloud + blurry