#and to everyone saying that the board would’ve made a lot of the decisions not just him- he’s the fucking CEO

[heavenbarnes]

as someone who believes in the preservation of human life, i cannot agree with everything that has occurred

but as someone who believes in the radical de-privatisation of healthcare, i am delighted

[g0dlyunsub]

could you perhaps do a spencer x fem reader based on the song ‘i miss you, i’m sorry’ by gracie abrams? 🤍🤍

back to you.

upon your return after a year of working outside the bau, everyone welcomes you back with open arms – everyone except for one agent.

pairing :: spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: angst, drinking, reader gets drunk, confessions and lots of apologizing

word count :: 2.9k

author’s note :: such a lovely request! this stretched out to be a lot longer than i had initially planned for, but what can i say, the song lyrics kept inspiring me to write more 

accompanying song :: i miss you, i’m sorry by gracie abrams

do you remember happy together?

can we start over?

those were the four words you wanted to say, but you chose to remain silent instead. 

the guilt piled and eventually torched your heart when it became too much to bear. you preserved whatever was left of your sanity by flooding your bloodstream with three cups’ worth of caffeine, deciding to pay the price with jittery fingers. 

you had just spent the past eight months working a leadership position at the doj, and out of all of the decisions you’ve ever made in your life, this was your most regrettable one by far. sure, there were a lot of benefits that came with your elevated status – your bank balance certainly thanked you for it – but you missed out on too much.

you missed out on all of your coffee outings with the girls. you missed out on dinners with the entire team, where you would’ve brought your charcuterie board and downed your stress with red wine and endless rounds of poker. you missed out on everything that you would’ve marked your calendar for – trips to the mall, the fishing pier, the fancy dinner place a few blocks away from the office.

but nothing pained you more than your missed days with spencer. the thought bugged you every day, and you could do nothing to ignore it.

because how could you not regret it, the weekly strolls to the library with a cup of coffee in hand and his scarf wrapped tightly around you, his scent nuzzling against you? 

memories of that day haunt you like it’s yesterday.

—

“spence, i don’t need the scarf. the coffee’s keeping me warm just fine.”

your brown-haired coworker scoffed and stuffed his hands in his pockets while his gaze fell onto the pavement. 

walking side-by-side with him always felt surreal. his voice blew past your hair and drifted into your eardrums as your feet hit the soft grass, your boots slightly wet from the sprinklers tending the green.

“do i need to remind you that you were sick four days ago?”

you couldn’t help the faint blush from creeping up your cheeks when he turned to meet your gaze with his rounded eyes. you wanted to call him out because his ears were tinged with bright red from the cold air, but you stayed put. your flushed cheeks grew even hotter when his shaky hands dragged up your shoulders and cinched the scarf tighter around your neck.

“besides, natural fibers work wonders at keeping moisture away from the body.” 

his slight rasp sent shivers down your skin, and scratched the back of your mind just right.

the urge to grab him and kiss him tugged at your fingers like an itchy scab, but you chose not to scratch it.

thought you'd hate me

maybe he was the reason you decided to come back. 

you couldn’t bear the same routine any longer, cramped up inside an office with no place to go besides the dimly lit room of your bare apartment still filled with unpacked moving boxes.

you didn’t have much luck making friends at your new workplace, and you threw the idea of finding a potential date out the window. 

and even after eight months, you couldn’t shake his crestfallen face from your mind.

—

“you’re leaving?”

spencer’s eyes immediately tore away from his book and landed on you, his lips slightly parted.

“in- in a week. yes, i’m leaving.”

you looked down at the ground and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ears several times. an uncomfortable silence filled the air.

“how long has it been since you… accepted the offer?”

you paused before glancing up. the twinkle that always sits in his eyes seemed to gain an extra edge in that moment, and it was almost scary, how he stared at you so inscrutably.

“two weeks,” you said truthfully and looked down again, because you didn’t have it in yourself to hold his gaze. 

from your peripheral vision, you noticed how his knuckles were almost white from the sheer force with which he was gripping his book. you bit down on the insides of your cheek, hard.

“i didn’t know you were thinking of other options,” he muttered lowly, and your heart instantly dropped.

“it was a good offer, spence. a really good one. i-”

“yeah, i hope it was a good offer. i mean, i don’t know how much of a role we played in your decision, but i’m happy for you. congrats.”

you blinked a few times while his words echoed in your mind. his quick-witted response heavy with bitter undertones flooded you with the most intense feelings of remorse and guilt.

“this wasn’t an easy decision, if that’s what you’re talking about. spence, you’re like family to me, and leaving this all behind… i thought about this day and night.”

“you know, it’s kind of funny how you say that we’re like family, because a family would do everything to stay together. but then again, maybe i’m the exception.”

you really didn’t have anything to say after that.

he completely annihilated and swept through you, and still finished you off by walking past you to snatch his bag and leave the office.

you should’ve told him before.

but then he would’ve convinced you, and you knew that it wouldn’t take much to be coaxed into staying, especially when it was spencer. you consulted your parents and emily instead, and they all urged you not to overthink.

but that day, you were convinced you had it all wrong. 

i still love you, i promise

you could feel the tears surface almost immediately when you wrap your hands around emily’s back in a heartfelt embrace.

“how do you feel?” she pulls back and reaches into her pocket to hand you your id. 

you take it from her slowly, tracing your fingers over the edges while staring at the words ‘special agent’ next to your signature.

“i feel-” you shake your head in disbelief, “so happy to be back.” 

you don’t know if you sound as excited as you’re claiming yourself to be, but emily doesn’t pry into it.

“seems like you’re stuck with us no matter what,” she chuckles, and then clasps her hand around your wrist. “come on, everyone’s waiting for you.”

you heard them before you saw their faces.

the garish papers and sparkling trails of glitter land at your feet the moment the elevator doors open, and a striking pop sounds before a flurry of celebratory squeals and claps echo left and right.

“oh you, come over here!” penelope scurries over to you and sweeps you in a tight hug, and the others join in to clobber you with pats and playful pushes.

emily leads you into the office while everyone trails behind you excitedly, and stops to gesture towards a table decorated with your nameplate. you step back in awe.

“the table’s perfect.”

you smile and set your bag down to brandish your nameplate at the others. 

“i know! and guess who’s across from you.” jj laughs and moves her brows up and down, causing you to shift your glance at the surrounding desks.

and right across from you, you see it. the table, lined with books at every edge; the empty coffee mug; the nameplate.

as if right on cue, the office doors swing open, and the subject of your thoughts walks in.

you instantly feel the pang of guilt when his excited gaze turns into a vacant stare, when he realizes the source of rapture coming from inside the office is you. 

his eyes flicker up and down and his stare almost feels chilling. you need him to break the cold and say something. anything.

your team somehow makes it even worse by reading your silence as a desire to be left alone. they nod and point to the roundtable upstairs before whizzing up the stairs and disappearing behind the blinds, leaving you to face the man you haven’t seen in eight months alone.

“you’re back.” 

spencer says it with a voice so quiet, with a pace so swift, with a tone so flat, you don’t know if you’d be able to catch that it’s him if it isn’t for his face.

you don’t want his impassive tone to dictate the mood for the conversation when you’ve just hauled your feet all the way back, so you clear your throat and open your mouth to speak.

“i am. it’s nice to see you again.”

he stiffens. his reaction is a bitter pill to swallow.

“spencer,” you start, eyeing the vein marking the side of his forehead, “you- i’m probably the last person you want to see right now. i’m really sorry about last time.”

the unwavering expression on his face is unsparing, but you aren’t going to look away abashed.

“i just wanted to say that you were right. i should’ve never left in the first place. i hated every second of work there, and believe me when i say that i didn’t hesitate when emily asked if i wanted to come back.”

he could pierce your heart with his silent stare.

“i’m sorry i couldn’t tell you earlier. but i knew, i knew that if i consulted you i would’ve turned it down.”

you take a deep breath.

“i missed you so much, but i just didn’t have it in me to tell you that because i thought you’d still be mad, and you’re probably still really mad at me right now so it’s okay if you don’t say anything because i understand, i know that i’d be mad if i were in your place, but i just wanted to make it clear that i’m not going to leave again-”

“stop.”

he cuts you off, but the rattles of your apologies continue to drift in the back of your mind.

he tears his gaze away from you and shakes his head.

“i need some time… to think about this.”

without waiting for a response, he turns and walks off, up the stairs and away to regroup with the rest of the team. he doesn’t see the tears that cascade down your flushed face.

think i’ll make it worse

“great work today.” 

hotch nods at you with a warm smile before he steps out, leaving you to be the last one in the office.

walking over to your desk, you carefully pull out a large bottle of wine from a bag that rossi left earlier as a welcome-back gift. 

you make your way to the shared kitchen, and sigh happily when you find the corkscrew in the same drawer as before – a subtle reminder that some things haven’t changed. inserting the lever arm into the cork, you twist and pull until it lifts from the bottle with a satisfying pop.

without pouring the wine into a spare glass, you shuffle your feet until you reach the stairs, and plop down on the raised steps.

you take a small sip of the wine, savoring the taste as the liquid sloshes around in your mouth, and recall the events of earlier.

stop.

you take another sip.

i need some time.

you attach your lips to the mouth of the bottle and take a large gulp.

i need some time… to think about this.

you guzzle the wine without a single care, without considering the fact that your car’s still parked outside and that you need to get home somehow.

you drink until your lips stain with the color of dark purple, until you can smell the alcohol rubbed deep in your skin, and until you collapse to your hands and knees.

—

spencer hadn’t initially planned to go back to the office that night.

but when he rang your cell five times and each call sent him straight to voicemail, he knew something wasn’t right.

he was never good at verbalizing apologies, so he was just going to leave a letter on your desk to find in the morning. the two of you would address everything then.

because the truth was that he could never stay mad at you. he just needed to prepare himself, to be able to see your face again without feeling the heavy crash of emotions.

but when he turned up to the office and noticed the lights were still on, suspicious thoughts clouded his brain. 

hesitantly, he curled his fingers around the handles of the door and opened it.

he saw the empty wine bottle first, which had rolled its way to the entrance of the office and stopped at his feet.

crouching, he took the bottle in his palm and examined it before confusedly clicking his tongue and setting it on top of the kitchen table. 

but then he saw you, slumped over the stairs, your face sinking into your dress shirt stained with drops of purple.

he dropped everything and ran, ran as fast as he could, to your side.

i miss you, i'm sorry

you hear the soft swearing and realize you’re not alone, but you’re too drunk – too tired – to match the face to the fuzzy figure crouched beside you.

“have you been drinking this entire time?”

is that spencer? it’s surely his voice.

“spencer? oh my god, what- why are you here?”

he waves the bottle you had just downed in your face, and your hands instinctively move to reach for it. he pulls it away from you.

“did you just finish all of this?”

you give a lopsided smile and blink slowly. “oh, i swear it was just one sip.” 

that’s the only confirmation he needs. 

spencer tuts and sighs. he’s about to murmur a few words of disapproval when your head falls and you lurch forward, but he catches you just in time. with his palms cupping the sides of your face, he gently lowers you onto his lap.

“how were you going to get home?”

his voice brushes against you like feathers. damn it, he sounds intoxicating.

you smile sleepily. “what are you talking about? i am home.”

spencer frowns.

“no, your home is twenty minutes away from here. you’re still at the office.”

the office lights are too bright for you to handle, you move your hand to shield your eyes. spencer takes note of this, and moves his head over to cast his shadows onto your face. 

“no,” you breathe, “i’m right where i belong. with you.”

that’s not the answer he’s expected at all. his throat constricts and for a second, he’s glad you’re too drunk to notice the blush spreading across his face.

“did you mean it?”

you furrow your brows in confusion. “what?”

“did you mean it when you said you missed me?”

you let out a hushed laugh. “did you want me to say something else?”

spencer shakes his head. “i just want to know if you really meant-”

“god, spence, you look so kissable right now.”

he gulps.

he never thought the word kissable would ever tumble from your pretty lips, let alone be directed towards him. never, not in a million years.

“stop,” is all he can come up with.

“do you know who i missed the most when i left?”

he knows where this is going, and he needs to stop you before you spill too much. for your own good.

“let’s get you up.”

“you. it’s always been you.” 

he doesn’t want to give in to your bubbly laughs, your soft tugs at his shirt, your face nuzzling into his lap.

“after i left,” you continue to drawl your words with clarity only slightly greater than that of a burble, “i came to realize something.”

he doesn’t need to ask. he doesn’t need to know more.

“what?” 

he wants to know more.

“i can’t love anyone else.” you blink. “it has to be you. loving you is just that easy.”

you’re persistent. you flip onto your stomach and plant a kiss on his lap before slowly sitting up and staring intently into his eyes.

you’re drunk.

this isn't right.

spencer shakes his head as if to warn you, to give you your last chance to back down. 

you have to thank the alcohol for stripping you of all your nerves. “did you miss me?”

that, he can answer. spencer nods.

“say it back,” you whisper, gently tugging the collar of his shirt. 

a blush heats his cheeks. “i missed you.”

you move closer, until your lips are less than an inch from his left ear. “how much?”

seeing this side of you, so bold and carefree, has spencer practically gripping the carpet floor for support.

he's miraculously saved when you pull back and raise a hand.

“i’m gonna-”

you don’t get to finish because you collapse onto the floor, completely wiped out by the alcohol.

he releases all of the air he’s been keeping inside of his lungs with a heavy sigh.

he watches your chest rise and fall slowly, your lips upturned and drawing in deep breaths.

“too much,” he replies, knowing you can’t hear him. he thinks he hears you mumble something back, but it's too incoherent for him to understand.

with a soft smile, spencer leans in and carefully crosses your arms over his shoulders, before hoisting you on his back to carry you out of the office.

“let’s get you home.”

[tabithatwo]

Can I ask why you don’t like this new season of yj? No hate or anything, I’m just genuinely curious

I’m so tired and probably won’t be very coherent but that’s okay there’s like six more of these in my asks if I want a second more thorough answer tomorrow lol but a lot of how I feel is in posts on my blog and I’ll just talk mostly 2x08 here. I’ve been hanging on tight until this episode but it has BROKEN me. Like I’m in mourning lol. To anyone who likes it I’m so happy for you I’m not coming for you at all.

But to me the main issue I’ve had is how they have constantly had opportunities to go DARK and SHOW the devolution but they played it very fucking safe (the makeup being the catalyst, Shauna’s birth being truly the safest option possible, like an episode of call the midwife except a fucked up dream happens, etc) and there was no actual build to the level of violence and depravity (or even RELIGION BUILDING) that the card draw sacrifice calls for. The ate Jackie because she was already dead and the wilderness slow cooked her, they were all mourning the baby last episode, they showed us Misty feeling potentially genuine remorse and guilt for Crystal? The “cult stuff” up until now has been mostly fucking dbt techniques and self harm. Yes the shauna lottie last episode was intense but we got absolutely zero follow up on it in any real characterization way for shauna this episode.

Then they kicked us out of the room when the decision was being made and I PROMISE people who think that was a shit move are largely not thinking they needed to explain the card game. It’s about showing your characters in pivotal huge moments. Yellowjackets is advertised and set up in s1 as a psychological horror. I want to see the characters GRAPPLE with things in a psychological horror. Seeing how they got from point a to point b isn’t about understanding the rules of their game, it’s about seeing developed characters reactions to crazy fucking shit.

Instead we get a jump straight into everyone drawing a card and the group deciding to kill one of their two hunters. Would some be on board with no questions asked? sure, but to ask the audience to believe that it just Makes Sense that they landed here after being very fucking relatively TAME all season until that one fight (I was so scared after that scene and no one reacting that this is the jump they were making, based on one moment alone and I was so sad to see it happen lol) is a big ask.

Now add on top of that the way they’re cutting us out of the actual character driven moments. That wasn’t psychological horror, that wasn’t delving into characters psyches like we’ve been promised. It was a thriller moment, change on a dime, maybe for shock value I guess. To me that interim would’ve been a very hard scene to write, a glimpse even of them deciding and reckoning with this belief and darkness in themselves. It’s a large group with a lot to juggle and big messy dynamics. And the easy way out of that is to just not show it at all.

People keep saying “they don’t have time to develop things this season because of side plots.” But they CHOSE to have those side plots in the first place. They’re filling shit in because they don’t WANT to get into the nitty gritty. We watched musical theater and cops and whatever the hell else and whatever. Fine. Sure. But it isn’t that those plots magically overtook some extra brilliant deep moments that they planned on showing with these characters to actually WITNESS their devolution, like s1 set us up to expect. They added them to fill empty space.

I GET that they become brutal. I GET that they devolve. I UNDERSTAND that from moment fucking one. The draw of the show to me is not watching them chase someone. We got that in the first scene. It’s seeing HOW they get there. What has to happen to get them to that place AND how does it impact each main character. Don’t just list the bad things for me. Show me their reasoning and their religion building and their arguing and their giving in. That’s what the real story is to me. Because we just saw them do their first ritual kill, but we didn’t see much more DEPTH to it, with these characters that we’ve now spent 18 episode getting to know, than the pilot already showed us.

1 am ramblings please forgive confusing turns of phrase or typos lol

[tbyfandoms]

Just finished season 3 of OBX and WOW!

Spoilers under the cut, let’s discuss!

Ok so first off, idk if this was my favorite season ever but it was still a good one!

My thoughts are kinda all over the place so I’m just gonna dive in and ya’ll can do with it what you will LMAO

So first and foremost I’m lowkey pissed about Rafe melting the cross. The Pogues went through all of that just for it to get turned to nothing essentially. In the end they still get credit for everything and what not, but for history to just get put down the drain essentially was…interesting!

Ok a major one, jjiara shippers please don’t come for me!!! Like I said in a previous post, I wanted them together in season one but after s2 I didn’t want it to happen anymore, things felt different and I saw them better off as friends. I feel like the whole “buildup” of them this season was lackluster and that there wasn’t a ton of chemistry between madison and rudy like I saw in s1. This obviously could be because of all the crazy stuff that went down over the last few years with them because of shipping, but even still this decision to have kie and jj together just felt so forced, I did not like the kiss or the fact it happened in front of all those girls like 💀

Can we talk about that too like kie’s parents fr just shipped her off to some camp??? I was ACTUALLY surprised by that. We all obviously knew they wanted to send her to boarding school but that was fr like jail without actually being in jail. I know her parents just wanted what was “best” for her but they could’ve handled that better lmao

Now let’s talk ward! Honestly they just used his character this season to farm sympathy I feel. I really enjoyed everyone’s reflection scenes and how it was affecting actions this season, but I was so unsure how to feel about ward specifically, this season. I didn’t know if any of his intentions were pure or if it was all just some scheme like usual. In the end we all saw he sacrificed himself to save sarah, but I would’ve liked to see some ACTUAL growth for his character and see him seriously try to do better. I guess in the end people can say he got his karma, but it felt kind of outta nowhere if that makes sense? Idk

Speaking of dads, we loved to see the john b and big john reuinion!!! The church bells thing had me SOBBING like that was good. There were some moments where I was like ehhh when it came to big john just because of how seriously treasure hungry he was, but it made sense for his character. What I really wanna touch on though is how he just dies! John b just got his dad back, they all go on this crazy adventure, and then his dad dies as soon as they find the treasure essentially. Now john b and sarah are fr back to having no parents and I felt bad for them

Ok I’m on my last couple thoughts. Let’s discuss rafe and topper because JESUS they both need therapy immediately. I always have a little part of me that feels for topper but after this season that’s DONE. Mans fr tried to commit murder and he’s an ACTUAL arsonist, like what was that??? 😭 And you’re telling me that nothing happens to him after all that? I know no one can prove it was him but c’mon. And rafe is just GONE in my opinion, in all seriousness I feel like he really needs therapy and to get help because you can tell he struggles with a lot and now that ward’s actually dead I’m interested to see how rafe is gonna handle everything and what’s gonna happen to the cameron family as a whole honestly

(Little quick thought including rafe! I’m adding this in after I’ve posted bc of course I forgot LMAO but when rafe and kie are locked in that room and it was just that one bed, I can’t even tell ya’ll how many fanfic ideas were swimming around in my head DKSJSJ I don’t even like kie and rafe together, I don’t even write or read rafe fics, but YA’LL!!! It was giving enemies to lovers, one bed, forced proximity, it was just GIVING! That is all, I’m sorry 👀)

My thoughts on the finale! Love that they found el dorado, that was HUGE! Typical for it to get blown up and they were only able to get a few pieces of gold out, that’s honestly what always happens in treasure media LOL! But overall that was amazing and I’m glad that whole story came to a head and it was essentially “finished”. In that same premise though, I feel like that honestly could’ve been the end of OBX. Every single season was about the tanny treasure and now that’s over, they figured it all out and discovered everything they could. They introduce blackbeard’s treasure in the end but honestly I think it’s just because netflix wants to keep the show going since it’s such a hit. They could’ve done an extra episode or two of this season, explained some things more, slowed down the story, talked more about what happens in those 18 months/all the pogue’s future plans, and then had that be the end. I’m glad it’s not though don’t get me wrong! But the story is wrapped up imo. I’m still excited for s4 though and for more treasure hunts!

Ok I think that’s everything. I know this is all over the place and I probably have so much more to say that I’m not thinking of rn, but this is all getting typed as I JUST finished the show, so I’m sure any other thoughts or clarifications I have will come later!

If ya’ll wanna talk about anything, leave a comment or pop me an ask in my inbox! Make sure to state early on if there’s spoilers included though for those who haven’t watched yet!

Overall, still love this show w/my whole heart and I’m decently happy with how things are turning out. I know there will be a lot more growth and developments next season so I can’t wait <3

[jakekiszska]

playdate

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, spitting, p in v intercourse, tiny bit of a master kink if you squint, spanking, praise kink. (reader and eddie are both 18+).

a/n: pls cut me some slack as a d&d 5e player. i tried my best to write as accurately to 1e & 2e as i could. :)

summary: you finally joined hellfire after months of your best friends begging… but you can’t keep your eyes off him the entire time.

if u see an error no u don’t. :)

word count: 2.9k

“shirt looks good on you.” eddie comments, winking as he passes you in the school hallway.

“thanks, perv.” you joke back, giving him a smirk. he blows you a quick kiss before facing the correct direction and walking down the hallway. you made the decision last week to start playing dungeons and dragons with eddie and his friends, so of course today you had to don your t-shirt.

you entered your final class and sat down, hardly able to focus. who really needed math anyway, right? you stared at the white board as the teacher lectured and wrote formulae down. you couldn’t stay focused, so you let your mind wander.

thinking of it, you probably did need math, especially for your dungeons and dragons game… you’d need to add or subtract your modifiers from your rolls, or add to your attacks… so maybe you’d better pay attention.

your teacher’s monotonous voice was hard to focus on, especially since she never faced the class. you took out your notebook and started scribbling tiny doodles in the corner of the page. a few ideas came to you for playing your character today, so you tried to jot them down as discreetly as you could, passing them off as notes.

you thanked all the deities you knew when the bell finally rang. you met eddie in the parking lot, standing by his van. he was chatting with his friend gareth, but quickly turned his attention to you as you approached.

“ready to go?” he asks, looking you up and down. you nod a quick yes and hop into the passenger seat of his van, throwing your stuff to the floorboard. the drive to your house was quick, but eddie stalled you before you could exit the van and head inside.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, looking over at you with a concerned look. normally you would’ve talked his ear off the whole ride over. you try to assure him that you’re fine.

“hey listen, y/n… you’ve been my best friend for like, i don’t know, six? eight years? i know when something is wrong. spill it.”

you finally turn your head and look at him. “i’m nervous to play tonight. what if i look stupid?”

“babe,” he says affectionately, making your stomach lurch, “we’re a bunch of dudes in high school playing a fantasy table-top roleplay. you’re definitely gonna look weird.” he says casually, a playful tone to his voice. you can’t help but laugh. “it’s gonna be okay. i’ll wait to bring your character into the game that way you can see how everyone else plays, okay?” he asks you, his tone comforting.

“okay, eds. okay. that works.” you say, running your hands down your jeans. you open the van door and hop out, strolling over to your porch. when your feet hit the bottom step, you hear eddie call after you. “pick ya up at 6:40!” he screeches, and then you hear the tires of his van screech too as he backs out of your driveway and drives away maniacally.

you grab yourself a snack from the kitchen once you make it inside, a few strawberries your mom had left over from some cake she decorated.

you take them up to your room and set the plate on your bedside table before grabbing out your books and starting on your homework. stupid math.

you work through as many problems as you can before you can feel your eyelids starting to droop. you close your book and slide it back in your back before taking your plate of strawberry stems to the kitchen and dumping them. you quickly wash the plate and head back to your room, anxiously awaiting your evening.

for the remainder of the time you’re waiting for eddie you clean your room up and then decide to take a quick shower. you tie your hair up in a scrunchie to avoid wetting it and you quickly go through your routine. once you’re out you decide instead of wearing your jeans again that you’ll slip on a black skirt that sits just above your knee, and your hellfire shirt.

finally, 6:40 approaches, and just as he promised eddie is in your driveway at that exact moment. you grab your notebook and a pen along with the dice set he gave you and run out to meet him.

you hop in the van and your nerves return, but you try to play it cool. you make it to the school and you’re let in by some of the faculty who have to facilitate after school gatherings, but eddie assures you none of them ever sit in on the sessions.

he gets all of his stuff laid out and puts up his dm screen before sitting down on this throne-like chair. you try not to stare at him, but the way he’s sitting so relaxedly with his legs spread open is making you squirm.

you’d always thought eddie was attractive, but something about him being in his element like this was really tempting to you, and you figured that’s why you were so nervous to play.

all of his friends start pouring into the room and taking their places and eddie has to quiet them down a few times before he can begin.

“y/n won’t be playing immediately, but if you don’t mind would you tell us your characters race and class please?” he asks you, his tone a lot softer than what he uses for the boys.

“um, my character is a hobbit and my class is cleric.” you say nervously, staring at the table.

“a hobbit, huh?” eddie teases. “that’s accurate.”

you can hear his friends dustin and mike laughing insanely loud at his jest. “shove it, henderson.” you say, finally scanning the room. “you’re about 4’6, yeah?” you joke.

the rest of the room laughs at your joke and after a minute more of teasing you get right into the game. eddie was able to work your character in as someone the party met at some stables, and they figured they’d need your spellcasting abilities to help them in battle.

the session goes on for a while and you’re really having a lot of fun, but you can’t take your eyes off of eddie. his facial expressions, his tone of voice, all the gestures he makes towards the party. he’s so immersed and it’s driving you a little crazy. seeing him so passionate is nothing less than hot to you.

it’s time to wrap the game up and you’re just finishing your battle when it’s dustin’s turn to roll for attack. he just makes it and the room erupts, cheering that he finally slayed the beast you’d been fighting.

“congratulations, henderson. describe the killing blow.” eddie beams. dustin goes on to describe some disgustingly gruesome scene and you continue to stare at eddie until he catches your eye, to which you finally look away. when dustin is done talking everyone clears out, leaving you and eddie alone to pick up so he can take you home.

“you did so well tonight! i was so proud of you!” he beams, reaching out to ruffle your hair. his praise makes your body stiffen.

“something wrong?” he asks, walking up behind you and placing his chin on your shoulder. you’re not sure if you can make words but you try to force them out anyway. “um, no eds. i-i’m fine!” you manage, shuffling away from him. his hand catches your hip and spins you around to face him.

“really? you seemed to be staring at me the whole game. have i upset you?” he ponders, leaning in so his breath fans your face. it smells slightly smoky and slightly like mint, and you’re dizzy for a moment.

you assure him he hadn’t, and once again you try to move away, but his grip tightens. “well, i’m really proud of you.” he reiterates, watching you squirm under his gaze. you can almost feel your cheeks flush and your pupils dilate.

he leans in even closer, speaking into your ear. “do you like when i tell you how good you are?” he asks, his voice a bit lower, a tinge raspier.

“oh fuck off, eddie.” you choke out, pushing a hand against his chest.

“is that any way to talk to your dungeon master?”

he pulls away from your face slightly and tilts up your chin with his pointer finger. “my apologies master,” you tease sarcastically, “forgive me?”

this time it’s your turn to taunt him, so you push your hand up his chest and wrap it around the back of his throat, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. he takes a step closer to you and you shudder when you realize just how close he is to you.

“that’s a pretty little skirt you have on.” he whispers. your whole body shudders. “eddie..” you whine, tugging at his hair lightly.

“hmmm.. what is it baby?” he leans in so your noses are touching. “please eddie, kiss me.” you beg, your voice an octave higher than usual. he places his left hand on your other hip before finally closing the gap between your lips.

you aren’t expecting his lips to be so soft. you also aren’t expecting to feel so drunk off his kiss immediately. it’s experimental, but it quickens. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you part your lips for him. he slides his tongue into your mouth and he moans as he feels you suck on it gently.

his hands have made their way around your backside and he slips one past your skirt, keeping it still until he can gauge your reaction. when you don’t stop him, he grabs a handful of your ass before lifting you up and placing you on the nearby table. you whine into his kiss and he presses himself between your legs.

you kiss each other hungrily for what feels like hours until you finally pull away. “hey, let’s get outta here.” you propose, and he nods, moving away so you can grab all of his stuff. his expression takes on that of a lost puppy.

you grab him by the arm and he looks over at you, so you reassure him. “eds, i didn’t wanna stop… i just don’t really wanna fuck in the school after hours.”

“f-fuck,” he stammers, “you wanna.. we’re gonna.. oh my god we’re gonna fuck?”

you shake your head yes at him. “if you want to… let’s go back to your place?” you ask. “hell yeah. hell yes we are going to my place!” he says ecstatically. you grab up all of his stuff and practically race out to his van. he gets you back to his uncle's place in record time and you go in quickly, headed for his room.

once you’re in you waste no time in reconnecting your lips to his. he disconnects to pull his shirt over his head and you moan when you can see all of his tattoos. you lightly scrape your nails over them before reaching behind you and unzipping your skirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“cute panties.” he says smugly, and you slap his arm. you made sure to wear one of your favorite pairs, baby blue and cotton with a pink heart on the front. he sits back on his bed against the headboard and you crawl into his lap, leaning down to kiss his neck. his hands find your hips and he moans as you lick a stripe just below his ear, biting it seconds after.

“kiss me again.” he says, his raspy tone going straight to your core. you connect your lips with his and soon after your tongues are meeting, sliding against each other as you makeout hungrily. your hips start grinding involuntarily but he uses his grip on your hips to help you. you can feel your cheeks flush.

“no need to be embarrassed baby,” he says, almost reading your mind, “if it feels good, then do it. feel how hard i am?”

and you could. you could tell he was straining as you continued to grind your now soaked panties across his lap. after a few more minutes you’re mewling and whining loudly, then you finally beg him to touch you.

“what do you want?” he asks lowly, hands palming at your ass. “want you to touch me, eddie. please.” you whine, arching into him. he slides you off his lap and pushes you down onto the bed so that your back is arched, in a face down ass up position.

“okay, princess,” he teases, rubbing your left thigh softly, “but first you need a punishment for how you talked to me earlier. remember that?”

you let out a deep whine as you feel him grab your panties and rip them down your legs. you clench as you feel the cool air hit your core. “just one, okay? that’s all.” he says, massaging your ass. a second later his hand is gone, and is quickly replaced again with a loud crack. you could feel the cool metal of his rings stinging against your ass sharply. seconds later he leans in to kiss the spot, a gesture to make sure you’re okay.

when he can tell you’re fine he rolls you over onto your back and slides your panties off your legs completely, tossing them to the floor. he pushes your thighs apart and stares down at you, fully exposed for him.

“fuck.” he groans, taking all of you in. “you have the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.”

you blush at his comment and throw your arm over your face to hide it. you feel him run two fingers along your slit to gather some of your slick before dipping them into you. he leans down and spits on your clit before his thumb from his other hand rubs tight circles into it. your back arches and you begin to work your hips in time with his hands.

“fuck yeah, baby. fuck yourself on my hands. that’s my good girl.”

my good girl. you shudder again.

“eddie, i’m close!” you warn, his fingers curling inside of you and working your g-spot deliciously. “come on then, lemme see that little pussy cum for me.” he commands, and you’re teetering over the edge. it’d been a while since you came that hard, and eddie wears a proud smirk as he watches your legs shake with aftershocks.

he stands from the bed and you look him up and down, eagerly watching as he unclasps the handcuffs on his belt. his zipper is down soon after and then he’s shuffling out of his jeans, not leaving you much to the imagination. your mouth waters as you see the outline in his briefs - and he is big.

you didn’t notice your mouth hanging open. he sheds his underwear before crawling over you and you admire how tidy his pubic hair is kept… and then you wonder if that’s weird. you won’t say anything.

he positions himself between your legs and leans down to kiss your neck, whispering to you teasingly. “what’s wrong, worried it won’t fit?”

“i don’t care. i want it.” you assure him, and he slides his tip through your folds quickly before pressing his cock inside of you finally. you take it slowly, inch by inch, until he’s bottomed out.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes because of the stretch, but he wipes them away sweetly. “it’s okay, we’re gonna take our time.” he promises, and you lightly tug at his hair. “you can move, please move.”

he pulls his hips back slowly before rutting into you again, working at a slow but delicious pace. “fuck eds, that f-feels so fucking good.” you whine, your hands still tugging at his hair. each time you pull on his hair it spurs him to go faster, and soon he’s pounding into you so hard that you barely recognize the voice coming from your throat.

his fingers dig into your hips and you know the indentions from his rings will leave bruises for you to admire for days. he’s letting out soft moans above you and if he hadn’t been speaking to you so filthy this entire time they’d almost warm your heart.

“i’m not gonna last.” he warns you, his hips snapping into yours quickly. you reach your hand down between your bodies and start to rub your clit, to which he lets out a filthy whine.

“cum for me, baby. let me feel it. cum for me again.” he coaxes, his breathing laboured. a few seconds later you feel the band snap again and your body arches upward as your second orgasm hits you, the sensation washing over you and making you lose vision for a second.

seconds later he pulls out and finishes himself off in his hand.

“holy shit. you’ve been keeping that from me?” he laughs, wiping his hand with some article of clothing he found on the floor. “you could’ve had it if you’d asked.” you tell him, being completely honest.

he walks back over to you and leans down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. when he pulls back a playful smirk tugs at his lips. “well in that case, do you wanna fuck?”

you grab a pillow from his bed and smack him with it before he lunges at you, pressing kisses into your neck and softly tickling your sides. “i think i really like this, eds.”

“me too.” he assures you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest.

tags: @alwayzthere @strangersingold @garbagevanfleet @harmonyhous @obetrolncocktails (message me to be added!)

[from-a-reckless-writer]

RE: the tags about being tempted to post a half finished fic and guess the ending, well you are a reckless writer for a reason

this is long overdue, so here have a fic.

It has come to the point that nothing fazes her anymore.

A kidnapping? Been there, done that. It means calling Sam Arias to intimidate the board of members into temporary submission.

An explosion at the office? Just a typical Tuesday. It means relocating to the 23rd floor and sharing the desk with two other interns for 2 months tops.

An assassination attempt? It means bracing herself for at least 3 deliveries of donuts and coffee for the two following weeks that Kara Danvers would be protectively hovering over L-Corp, until her boss snaps and shoos her away back to CatCo.

She’s seen it all, endured it all and she sure as hell is prepared for it all. She’s got three different ironclad statements ready to publish for whatever PR disaster will most likely turn up that week. She’s got contacts from the FBI, DEO, CatCo, Daily Planet, Gotham Gazette-- hell she even has Lillian’s personal cell (just in case the Luthor matriarch ever tries anything y’know? ) and yes, even the number of that 'Mexican place at 5th and Spring, you know the one Kara likes, Jess?'

She’s got two pairs of heels, a raincoat and four sets of outfits neatly folded in a duffel bag, at the back of the office, reserved for any emergency that requires a change of clothes.

The point is, she is an independent Asian-American woman who has worked her ass off for the better part of the decade and has long learned to take no shit from anybody.

Not even stupid superpowered Kryptonians.

See, it takes a lot to be her. It takes unlimited patience to put up with a woman like Lena Luthor, not because she’s a terrible person. Oh no, no, the complete opposite, actually. She is so overwhelmingly kind to a fault, and she doesn’t want nor let anybody see it. It’s infuriating to see sometimes. Okay, fine, she sides with the Krytonian on that one matter. But oh, ho, ho, not today. Today, she’s mad.

She’s livid, actually and it’s all Supergirl’s fault. (and Lena Luthor's too.)

Jess has had her fair share of ‘I-Should-Not-Have-Been-Here’ moments, like that one time she forgot to knock and stumbled unto Lex mid-yell with Lena whose eyes were shimmering but was still keeping a rigid posture.

Or that one time when she thought her boss had long left the office, only to be greeted with quiet sobs and an empty bottle of scotch rolling on the floor. Or that time she happened upon Lena, skirt and sleeves on fire with fumes rising from a green solution.

Apparently, her staff from the lab refused to let her in after three days of their CEO holding herself in isolation with the experiment. Lena had gotten the great idea of smuggling the chemicals to her office instead. Luthors are nothing but determined. Jess still remembers the adrenaline rush of holding a fire extinguisher—as if she were the chosen 5th grader for a school fire drill—and shoving her boss out of the way.

Like she said, nothing fazes her anymore she’s seen it all, except maybe, this one. Yep, definitely this one. This one just made a hot ball of fury unfurl at her very core. This one might just take the cake.

Jess was just going about her day, returned from a hearty lunch and feeling reinvigorated from that dose of sunlight and fresh air. It was a quiet day today, she noticed, which should’ve been a foretelling.

Nothing really is ever quiet. Well, when it comes to L-Corp, at least.

She’s been sitting on her desk for about a good fifteen minutes and finished with screening a few papers from their new contractors, when it occurs to her that the latest blueprints from R&D are still on her desk instead of already being reviewed by her boss.

She grabs the drawing tube and quickly makes for her boss’s private office. They’ve spent enough time with each other that Jess could just come and go as she pleases, instead of having to knock each time. Saves both of their time, that way.

Although, usually, she buzzes through the intercom first to double check, but it was 1:20 P.M and she knows Lena doesn’t have anything scheduled after lunch. So, she pushes the door, confidently strolls in and promptly stops in her tracks.

Jess stops breathing for a moment, blinks once, twice, stares at the scene before her.

Lena Luthor sat atop her work desk; blouse open, eyes closed, cheeks flushed, neck currently being ravaged by Supergirl with legs wrapped around the waist.

She probably should’ve just turned and left while they haven’t seen her yet. That would’ve been the smart decision, right? Yes. Yes, it was so very clearly The Right Decision.

Of course, she doubts she could look Lena in the eye for the next few weeks after that, but at least she wouldn’t know that Jess walked in on them during an er- make-out session? Office tryst? Oh God, she shudders internally. It sounds even worse.

Incident? Yep. Yeah. She’s sticking with incident. Indecent incident sounds more apt really.

She should’ve left. Would have left, if her eyes didn’t just land on the desk—well, more like Miss Luthor’s as- backside—and felt the stirrings of rage make itself known. Because there, underneath Lena’s ass (Backside!! Jess, that’s your boss!) is the squished—probably crumpled—pages of a contract.

A contract they’ve spent 5 months securing!!

Jess decides to do what everyone else would have done in a situation such as this; she clears her throat. Loudly.

Classic move.

Supergirl’s head immediately shoots up and Lena’s eyes snap open.

“Jess!” Supergirl squeaks and she sees the exact moment the realization hits Lena. Her eyes widening at her girlfriend’s exclamation, whips her head to the side, spots Jess, hands scrambling to a panic to close all the buttons of her blouse.

She hears Lena hiss, “Fuck, shit. Oh my God. Shit. How did she even- You have superhearing!!!” as she pushes Supergirl—who lets herself be pushed, stunned by the intrusion, face redder than a tomato.

Lena gets off the desk, fixes herself all the while to futile results. Her hair is tugged down from her usual ponytail, her neck and chest is marked, her lips swollen.

Supergirl's hands twitch at the sides and Jess sees her gulp as blue eyes frantically dart to Lena and her, and then Lena, and then back to her.

Lena finally turns around after those few awkward beats.

"Jess," she begins, clearly trying hard to put on her business bitch persona, but come on, there's a hickey under her jaw for fuck's sake.

"It's not what you-"

Jess doesn’t let her finish, she stomps her way across the office and forcefully puts the drawing tube on the desk. It makes a hollow thump.

“Jess I-”

“Supergirl, do you know how long it takes to finalize a business proposal, pitch it to the board, persuade the board and finally have a contract drawn?”

Supergirl gulps again. Lena’s eyes are wild next to her, she doesn’t like not knowing what the next best move is, Jess knows this all too well.

“Uhhh- no?”

Jesus Christ, you’d think after years of shadowing Cat Grant, she'd had at least learned a thing or two. Then again, if somebody is full on glaring at her after getting caught red-handed, Jess doubts she could answer coherently too.

“That’s right,” Jess says, “You don’t.”

“Jess,” Lena repeats pointedly. She knows that tone. It’s a warning.

“Ms. Luthor.”

A period not a question mark. It’s a challenge.

"I've spent all my evenings working late on that, do you know how many dates I've had to cancel? Just so I can secure a meeting with Qatar and simultaneously sync it with Beijing's time? My boyfriend hasn't seen me in two weeks!” Jess bursts out.

“Two weeks, Supergirl!” She gets close enough to jab a finger to the Girl of Steel’s chest. A feat she will gladly tell all her coworkers later when she’s calmed down enough.

“Not to mention, the 10 other people who worked their ass off trying to make sure that Miss Luthor's presentation is airtight, bulletproof and waterproof!” Lena has the decency to look a little guilty at this point, nothing big though, just a slight tug at her lips, but it was enough for Jess.

“IT TOOK ME 3 FUCKING MINUTES TO PRINT THAT GODDAMN CONTRACT WHICH MIGHT NOT SOUND LONG—” Jess raises a finger in emphasis, “BUT BELIEVE ME WORKING IN L-CORP? A 3 MINUTE DIFFERENCE CAN MEAN AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT OR PSYCHOPATH PRESS!”

Supegirl of all people should already know this! For fuck’s sake!

Jess’s chest is heaving. She takes a deep breath, kneads her knuckles to her eyelids, “So, please if you're gonna have sex in the office, please, pleaseeeee clear the desk first. And at least, lock the door.”

She stares them both down, till Lena gives her a solemn nod; cheeks and ears still red. Supergirl squeaks out an, “U-understood, Ma’am.”

“Good. Glad we’ve come to an agreement.” Jess gives them one final nod before finally fulfilling what she came in here to do, “Miss Luthor,” She turns to Lena, “here are the R&D blueprints. Good day, to you Supergirl. I'll be going now. "

When she finally goes home, tells her boyfriend, and wonders aloud if she’ll still have a job the next morning, he tells her she’s such a badass.

And well, Jess can’t disagree with that.

*****

"Did I just- Did I just get yelled at by your secretary?? D-did she just chew us out?"

"She did, and she deserves a raise."

[kpopfanfictrash]

A Holly, Jolly Crisis (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash as part of the Once Upon a Holiday... collaboration with @underthejoon , @fantasybangtan​ , @lamourche​ , @hobidreams​ , @suga-kookiemonster​ , @junghelioseok​  

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight made this ridiculously gorgeous moodboard TT

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader (female)

Genre: Ex-Best Friends to Lovers / Rom-Com / Angst (?) / Holiday

Word Count: 36,243

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for sexual content. Fingering, Hoseok has a dirty mouth, Y/N semi-jokingly offers to slap him & he’s into it, condom-less sex, squirting, multiple orgasms, rough sex. Multiple friends/family members mention the reader has lost weight, but the reader’s exact weight isn’t specified. Seokjin uses a spatula as a microphone.

Summary:   At this time last year, you thought you had it all. A kick-ass screenwriting job for the hottest TV show in LA, an actor boyfriend whose career was taking off and an affordable apartment with not one, but two bathrooms. Fast-forward to now and you’re single, soon-to-be jobless and searching for a way to scrape together January rent. Everything seems to be falling apart, which was why you told your family you weren’t coming home for the holidays. Enter your little sister, Sara, who recently became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi and needs you home to celebrate. The biggest problem? Returning home means you’ll be forced to face everything and everyone you left behind, including Yoongi’s best man – and your ex-best friend, Hoseok.

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Thank you for taking the time to send our team your screenplay for One for the Money. It was a pleasure learning about your characters and ideas.

Unfortunately, we did not select your spec script at this time for further consideration.

Not wanting to read the rest of the rejection email, you returned to your inbox and moved the message to trash. Releasing a sigh, you slumped in the hard, plastic airport chair underneath you. This had to be your fifteenth rejection email this month, which didn’t bode well for your screenplay’s future.

The screenplay in question was your self-written TV series – One for the Money. You’d been working on it for years and had just begun sending it out to studios. When a screenplay was written outside a studio and shopped around after, it was often called a spec script. This stood for speculative screenplay and you supposed that right now, this was the best descriptor.

A screenplay without a studio was practically nothing. Speculative, indeed.

Glancing up from your phone, you saw the flight’s status on the board had moved from green to red – delayed. Stifling another sigh, you switched apps on the screen and checked the weather. Winter storms were sweeping through the Midwest, resulting in a delay of holiday travel. This was precisely the reason you hadn’t wanted to go home this year.

Well, it wasn’t the only reason you dreaded your return to Josen Falls. You hadn’t seen your family in over a year but had still planned to stay in LA over Christmas. A wrench had been thrown in these plans when your sister, Sara, became engaged to her boyfriend, Yoongi.

Yoongi had only had one request when it came to wedding planning – for them to be married in the same church his parents had been, a beautiful venue north of the city. Of course, the only available date within a three-year time frame was June 30th. Seven months was practically nothing to plan a wedding, but Sara was determined to make it happen; hence the need to have you at home.

Don’t get you wrong – of course, you were excited about Sara and Yoongi. You’d been the one who introduced them, after all, through your former best friend. They were perfect together and you were nothing but ecstatic to see your little sister so happy. The only unfortunate part about her life coming together was it happened to come at the same time as yours falling apart.

A year ago, you would’ve said you were on the right path. Things had been going well in nearly every part of your life. Your TV show was on its second season, you’d been dating Darren for nine months and had found a reasonably priced one-bedroom apartment in a coveted neighborhood. Everything had been looking up, considering your previous year in LA, where paychecks had been scarce, and you’d been dangerously close to asking your parents for money.

Now, you found yourself in the same situation. Uncertain where your next paycheck was coming from, recently single and unsure how you were going to make rent next month.

Your coveted Hollywood job had been as a screenwriter for The Drop, a critically acclaimed show which ended abruptly this year after a dispute with the main actor. The third – and final – season was set to air in the new year on Netflix, but after that you’d be out of a job.

Hence the desperate pitch of your spec script to every mainstream television producer with an open inbox. Suffice to say, things were not going well.

This was evidenced by the uncomfortable chair you’d squeezed yourself into, having been forced to give up your pass to Admirals Club. The cost couldn’t be justified right now. Forlornly, you stared at the ticket sticking out of your purse.

It had been nearly a year since you’d last visited home. At first, this hadn’t been a purposeful decision. You’d been swamped with work, preparing for the Golden Globes and seasons one and two of The Drop. Your ex-boyfriend, Darren, had been nominated for an Oscar last year, resulting in a lot of holiday parties to attend.

Last year, you’d been too busy to come, but all that had changed in a matter of months. It began back in March, when contract negotiations stalled with your leading actor, Tory River. Tory fancied himself a method actor, so when you refused to pay him the GDP of a small country, he decided to walk. Without him, the studio had to scrap the show. Better to leave things at three solid seasons than add a lukewarm fourth without the main star.

You were told in May the third season would be its last and were highly encouraged to seek out other shows. Nothing had panned out since and then, at the end of the summer, you were dealt another blow.

You should’ve known things were bad when Darren, your ex-boyfriend, called you himself instead of Molly, his assistant.

When you first met Darren Carmichael in LA, he was a struggling actor from Des Moines, Iowa. The Darren of September 2020 was no longer the Darren of early 2019, though – he’d long ditched the Midwest accent in favor of designer shades and loafers. High off his Oscar nomination and with job offers to spare, you should’ve suspected something was wrong from his genuine contriteness of tone.

The first thing he said to you was, “Did you pass a newsstand today?”

At first, you’d been baffled because no one walked past newsstands anymore. Logging into Twitter, you immediately saw why your boyfriend had been worried.

DARREN CARMICHAEL AND CO-STAR, JESSICA AVEC, CAUGHT CANOODLING ON SET OF RECENT MOVIE!

Frozen, you’d barely listened while he pleaded his case. Instead, you scanned the article and felt your insides tighten with each word. Darren and Jessica had been caught making out when no cameras were rolling. You were only mentioned as a footnote, and not even by name.

Darren was previously dating a screenwriter in LA, although this seems to have ended several weeks prior.

You had wanted to scream, wanted to call up the author and berate them for proper sources, but you didn’t do any of that. Instead, you sat dejectedly while Darren yammered on and on about why he’d done what he’d done.

That had been the worst part. He hadn’t apologized to you – not really. Instead, he’d gone on about how hard it had been for him to be away, surrounded and worshiped by more available people. You had your career, he’d argued. You had other things, you didn’t need him and what he felt for Jessica seemed like the real thing.

Darren thought you should break up so he could begin dating her.

Numbly, you’d hung up the phone and immediately blocked his number. That had been nearly three months ago, but the sting of the breakup remained.

It wasn’t as though Darren had changed overnight. When you first met, he’d been the super-cute barista at your favorite coffee shop. You two bonded over being unable to find appropriately caffeinated beverages in LA and the rest, as they say, was history.

Then Darren landed a role as a recurring character on a popular Netflix show. What seemed like overnight, he became America’s heartthrob. Still, Darren didn’t change right away. He went to work every morning, came home in the evenings and continued to attend the same parties, run in the same circles.

Soon though, Darren was invited to more exclusive gatherings and slowly, his invitations transitioned from “Darren plus date” to “just Darren.” You hadn’t protested at the time, not overly interested in canapés and pretentious conversation. The time you did spend together dwindled, going from Facetiming each night on his movie set to a harried phone call every other day.

Maybe you should’ve been more suspicious. In hindsight, all the warning signs had been there, but you’d been too busy and worried about The Drop’s future to do anything about it. Darren had become distant and withdrawn, but you’d been okay because you’d become distant, too.

After you blocked his number, you kicked him out of your apartment. Packing everything he owned in boxes, you set these on the lawn and shut the door. It was unfortunate it rained before he could pick them up, but that couldn’t be helped. You refused to see him again – you even went so far as to have your assistant, Jimin, pick up Darren’s keys.

Jimin had done so gleefully, perhaps too gleefully, but you didn’t care. Darren had tried to contact you a few more times, but eventually he got the hint and the last time you’d checked, he seemed blissfully happy with his vapid co-star.

Gritting your teeth, you exhaled. That wasn’t fair – you had no idea what Darren had told Jessica about you. For all you knew, she could’ve thought you two had been broken up.

Regardless, things had gone steadily downhill for you over the past year. Single, nearly unemployed and running low on your savings, you could easily call this a low point in your life. Worst of all – your family didn’t know the full extent of things.

They knew you’d broken up with Darren, of course – that had been front page news. They also knew your TV series was ending but had no idea you struggled as much as you were. Each time they called, you meant to tell them, but something managed to choke you every time.

Maybe it was how excited your mom was about the upcoming nuptials. Or maybe it was how diligently your dad watched The Drop. Admitting you didn’t have next steps felt like defeat, so you’d purposefully kept things brief until you had something to tell.

The problem was none of your next steps seemed to be panning out. Again, your mind wandered to the rejection email in your trash.

“Excuse me? Are you Y/N Y/L/N?”

Blinking, you looked up and felt your heart sink.

The guy standing before you looked around college-age, dressed in a MORDOR FUN RUN t-shirt and wire-rimmed glasses. Clutching his laptop to his chest, he looked at you hopefully and you felt your heart sink even further. He had to be a film nerd.

“Um, yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “That’s me.”

This had happened to you several times before. Even if you weren’t an actress, your name appeared at the end of every episode of The Drop. It hadn’t taken long for starry-eyed screenwriting ingénues to find you on Instagram.

Usually, you were patient in your responses, giving them as much advice as you could without being discouraging, but Lord of the Rings here had caught you on a bad night.

“No way!” he gushed. “I’m such a big fan of your writing. I swear, I’ve memorized the entire first season of The Drop.”

“Not the second, though?”

His face fell. “No, well – I, it’s a long series and…”

“I’m kidding,” you said with a smile. “That’s really nice.”

“I want to be a screenwriter myself, someday,” he said, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m in a program at UCLA and am searching for a summer internship. Any advice for someone who’s just starting out?”

Hesitant, you looked him up and down and wondered how honest to be. He seemed nice, looked hopeful and you were one hundred percent sure the industry would crush him.

“You want some advice?” you said as you stood from your seat. The light on the departures board had changed from red to green.

Eagerly, the guy nodded.

“Alright, here it is.” Slinging your bag over your chest, you said, “Don’t be a writer.”

The guy’s expression faltered. “What?”

“Don’t be a writer,” you said. “Screenwriting is one of the most fickle, unforgiving jobs in existence. Job security? None. Creativity? Only as much as shareholders allow. The industry will eat you up, spit you out and no one will give a damn. The glamorous profession you’ve dreamt of doesn’t exist. The best advice I can give is run the other way.”

The guy stared at you, wide-eyed and for a moment, you felt a modicum of pity. Brushing this aside, you steeled your spine – better for him to find out now, while he could still change his major to something stable, like accounting.

“I, uh…” He paused, and then swallowed. “Thanks, I guess?”

“No problem,” you said, brushing past him as group numbers began to be called. At the last second, you hesitated and turned around. “Best of luck in whatever you decide, though. Happy holidays, and all that.”

“Happy holidays,” he mumbled, in a daze.

As you entered the line, you bit down on your lip and began to regret your outburst. Some of your bitterness was based on your own experience; maybe his would be different. The guy had seemed excited and you’d just crushed his dreams.

Narrowing your gaze, you forced yourself to straighten. It would’ve happened to him sooner or later – of that you were certain. Better to warn him now than for him to learn it the hard way. You only wished someone had been kind enough to tell you this years ago.

Actually – a sliver of discomfort entered your thoughts since someone had told you this last year. Someone had warned you about Darren, about your job and LA, but you’d chosen not to listen. Instead, you’d let your friendship crumble and hadn’t spoken to them since.

Just another reason going home for the holidays was going to suck. Going home meant you’d be forced to see Yoongi’s friends, which meant you’d be forced to see Hoseok. Yoongi and Hoseok were close, after all – they’d become friends in college, which was when Yoongi had been introduced to Sara.

It had been nearly a year since you and Hoseok last spoke, despite having once considered him to be your best friend.

So, there it was. Reason six hundred and sixty-six why the holidays would suck. You were single, jobless and facing the imminent prospect of two weeks with people who either had their shit together or were a constant reminder of why you did not.

As you boarded the plane and settled into your seat, you pulled out your headphones and cranked up the volume. If you weren’t feeling particularly Christmas-y, you could at least try to numb the pain with alcohol and music.

Starting now, you decided, as you closed your eyes. Happy holidays, indeed.

Exiting the Terminal at LaGuardia airport, you found yourself shivering in the sudden cold. Despite having worn the warmest jacket you could find, nothing prepared you for the frigid blast of air on your face. Heat lamps were scattered beside the taxi stand, but this seemed to do nothing but attract hopeful crowds of tourists.

Bypassing them all, you dragged your suitcase to the end of Terminal B. This was the agreed-upon meeting place for all family members. Your sister, Sara, was on pick-up duty tonight. She lived and worked in New York City, so the airport had been an easy stop on her way to Josen Falls. Your hometown was only an hour outside the city, but it might as well have been Mars for how much cab drivers charged to get there.

Lugging your bag to the end of the row, you saw Sara’s black Subaru parked at the front. As soon as you were within view, the driver’s side door flung open.

“Y/N!” she yelled, exiting the car. “Y/N!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, half-running the last several paces to crush her in a hug. Your sister squeezed you back, trying – and failing – to lift you from the ground. Once finished, she took a step back and adjusted her glasses.

“You look skinnier,” she said with a frown.

Re-grabbing your bag, you rolled your eyes. “I’m not skinnier.”

“Have you lost weight?”

“I mean, some but –”

“Nope,” said Sara, lifting the trunk of her car. “I’ll call mom on the way home. She can heat up mac and cheese, or something.”

Shoving the handle on your suitcase down, you heaved this from the ground to place in the trunk. As annoying as Sara’s criticism was, you couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of your mom’s mac and cheese.

“Ugh,” you said as you entered the car. Plopping in the passenger seat, you buckled your seatbelt. “Honestly, that sounds amazing. Even the mac and cheese on the west coast is low-carb and no butter.”

Sara looked at you in horror. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Beats me. Masochism?”

“Must be,” she said, shaking her head and putting the car in drive.

Pulling from the curb, Sara eased seamlessly into traffic. She waited until you’d reached the highway to turn on the music, just like dad did.

“Anyways,” she said, drumming her hands on the steering wheel. “Everyone’s super excited to have you home. It’s been what – over a year since last time?”

“Around that, yeah,” you said, shifting uncomfortably.

Slouching lower in your seat, you turned to look out the window. It wasn’t snowing, but it had clearly snowed within the past couple of days. A greyish-blue sludge remained on the highway.

Sara glanced sideways.  “Don’t slouch,” she said. “You’ll wrinkle those really cute pants – which, by the way, can I wear tomorrow night?” Beatific, she smiled. “Mom and dad are throwing me a tiny engagement party. Obviously, you’re invited.”

“Oh. Did you say tomorrow, because –”

“Nope!” Sara cut you off. “No excuses, big sis. You’re my maid of honor, so you have to be there. No ifs, ands or buts.”

Sighing loudly, you slumped in your seat. “Has anyone told you how annoyingly single-minded you are?”

“Often. I tell them I get it from my older sister.”

You snorted, but you knew she was right. You were equally stubborn – it was what had led to your current situation. Your family only knew the barest details about your life. If they knew the full extent of your failures, they’d instantly offer to help you out.

For you though, this would be considered the ultimate blow. When you moved to LA, they’d been hesitant about your career as a screenwriter. It had taken everything in you to prove you could do this. If you began to fail now, it would only prove them right.

You’d planned on telling them about Darren last month, but then Sara got engaged and everything was put on hold. Suddenly, your mom was consumed by the wedding; she barely had time for anything else. Everything was lace veils that, and yours forever that. It was hard being reminded of your singlehood in your own apartment, let alone each time you called your family.

As Sara continued to drive, her diamond engagement ring glittered in the lights of the highway.

“It’s even bigger in person,” you said, nodding across the console.

“That’s what she said.”

“Sara!”

“Sorry!” She cracked up. “You just look so tense. But yeah, I love the ring. Yoongi picked it out himself. Well, that’s not entirely true. He had some help from – uh, from no one,” she said, abruptly changing her tone.

“Oh, really?” you said, amused. “He had help from no one?”

“Yep.” Sara nodded.

You sensed bullshit on this but let it slide, reaching out to turn up the heat. If Sara didn’t want to say who, there was probably a reason. The reason you suspected made your heart twinge, but you didn’t want to think about him right now.

It wasn’t long before Sara pulled from the highway, street signs and buildings becoming familiar. You hadn’t flown much before college, so the trip from the airport to Josen Falls was still new. Just another way your life had changed since high school.

“So, where’s this engagement party happening?” you asked, glancing sideways.

“Where else?”

“Raffi’s,” you both said at the same time.

Sara grinned and nodded. “Where else? It’s our celebration restaurant. Mom and dad had to uphold tradition.”

“Obviously. Who all’s invited?”

Barely noticeable, her hands tensed on the wheel. “Oh, the usual. Mom and dad, a bunch of the neighborhood. Mr. and Mrs. Min, of course,” she said, naming Yoongi’s parents. “Some friends from high school. My bridesmaids. And uh, Yoongi’s groomsmen.”

“Oh.” You paused. “So, is –”

“Hoseok coming? Yeah.”

“Right,” you said, turning to look out the window.

Sara sighed softly. “That’s not going to be weird, is it?”

“Weird? Of course, not. Why would it be weird?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because of the whole ‘Hoseok thing?’” She made air quotes around the last two words.

“You mean how we once were best friends and now, I don’t even know what color his hair is?”

“That’s the one!”

“Hey, listen.” Reaching out, you touched her arm. “I promise things will be okay. Hoseok and I are adults – just because we’re not friends anymore doesn’t mean we can’t be in the same room together.”

“Promise?” she said, giving you a glance.

“Promise. It’s my baby sister’s wedding, after all. I have a contractual obligation to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“We-ll,” said Sara. “You can’t be held responsible for everything that goes wrong. Like, what if cousin Sybil decides to wear white to the wedding? That wouldn’t be your fault.”

“It would be if I didn’t bring a spare dress for her to change into.”

Sara cracked a smile. “Okay, but what if the florist mixes my bouquet up with a prom one? That wouldn’t be your problem to solve.”

“That’s what cars are for! I’d drive to the florist and make them switch it back.”

“Well, what if Yoongi suddenly gets cold feet and decides I’m not the woman he wants to marry? That definitely wouldn’t be your fault.”

“You’re right,” you said, examining your hand. “It’d be his fault, and then it’d be his problem because I’d murder him. Cold blooded. He can run, but I’d hunt him down, tear off his testicles and make you a potpourri bag.”

“Oh my god.” Sara cackled. “That’s so violent. You’re the best.”

“And as the best maid of honor!” you declared. “I promise your engagement party will go off without a hitch. Hoseok, or no Hoseok.”

“Alright, alright.” She grinned. “Thanks, sis.”

“Anytime.”

As you passed through the downtown of Josen Falls, familiar butterflies began to fill your stomach. Not ones of excitement though, but ones of dread.

Sinking lower, you hoped none of your neighbors were feeling particularly nosy. So little happened in Josen Falls, you were certain your breakup with Darren was still front-page gossip. You could already hear the neighborhood busybodies.

What a shame they cancelled that show of yours, dear. What’s the next project? Nothing? Well, what about that actor you were dating? What’s his name – Darren! He was wonderful in that one movie. He seems like such a nice boy. Oh, you’re no longer together? Well, are you dating anyone new? No? Well…

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head to the seat. Everything would be okay. All you needed to do was get through two weeks and you’d be back in LA. Your façade could last that long. Who knew – maybe if it held, you could apply to a few acting jobs when you returned.

Opening your eyes, you saw Sara drive past Whalen Court. Your home was two streets over, but Whalen Court was where the Jungs lived. Craning your neck, you watched their street disappear in the rearview mirror. You thought you saw lights were at his home but couldn’t be sure.

Before you knew it, you were entering your garage and Sara had placed the car in park.

“Home, sweet, home,” she sang, opening the door.

It took you a moment to convince your legs to work. Home, sweet, home was one way to put it.

The moment you stepped across the threshold you knew this had been a mistake.

“We’re home!” Sara yelled, shutting the door.

It wasn’t long before your mom rushed around the corner, beaming when she saw who had arrived.

“There she is!” she cried, crushing you in a hug. “Our star daughter, come home to visit us mere mortals for the holidays!”

Instantly, your heart sank. You should’ve known the first words out of your mom’s mouth would be a reference to your supposedly successful career.

“Hey!” Sara cried, dropping your bag. “What am I, chopped liver?”

“No,” said your mom, squeezing you tightly. “But we just saw you last week, dear. You and Yoongi came over for dinner.”

“Well… fine, that’s true.”

Your mom laughed, pulling back to hold you at arm’s length. Giving you a critical sweep head to foot, she frowned.

“Sara was right. You’re too skinny.”

Jaw dropping, you turned. “When did you have time to text mom?”

“At the stoplight,” Sara said, breezing past.

Your mom stared in alarm. “Well, I certainly didn’t know that. Sara, that was very dangerous. You shouldn’t be texting while driving.”

“There she is!” sang your dad, entering the front hall. “The prodigal daughter returned!”

“Dad,” you groaned, but laughed when he hugged you.

Pulling back, your dad wiped his forehead and realized he still held the spatula. “Right, dinner,” he said, turning around. “Got to stir the sauce every minute or it congeals! Put your bag by the stairs, Lucy and I’ll bring it up later!”

Lucy was your dad’s nickname for you, even though your name wasn’t remotely close to the moniker. When you���d been a child, you’d been an absolute terror, so Lucy was short for Lucifer. Your Grandma Jan nearly had a heart attack when she learned of the name’s origin.

As your dad disappeared into the kitchen, you returned to your mom. “You know I’m going to bring my suitcase up myself, right?”

“Oh, sure.” She nodded. “Leave something for him to carry, though. You know your father likes to feel needed. Like he’s the man of the house, or something.”

Despite yourself, you grinned. Your dad was as far from toxic masculinity as a person could be. He sang only falsetto harmony to songs in the car, did all the cooking, and had a self-proclaimed ‘weakness for soft blankets.’

Your mom gave a shrug. “Sometimes,” she added.

Laughing, you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and pushed it down. Lifting this up, you left your laptop bag in the hall for your dad to carry. You wouldn’t need it for work, anyways.

With this somewhat depressing thought, you began to lug your things up the stairs. Halfway to the second floor, your mom poked her head over the banister.

“Y/N?” she called.

“Yeah?” you said, struggling to balance your things as you turned.

“There’s toothpaste and shampoo in your bathroom, but you’re sharing a hair dryer with Sara. I put it in her bathroom! Just make sure you knock because, you know…” Your mom lowered her voice. “Yoongi may stay over some nights.”

“Mom,” you said, hiding your smile. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Alright!” She disappeared from view. “So happy you’re home!”

You heard her laugh when she entered the kitchen and for a moment, you stood there and exhaled. Darren had never come home with you for the holidays, so you couldn’t be sure how your parents would have reacted, but you doubted he would’ve gotten the same treatment as Yoongi.

Your parents had always liked Darren, but he’d been considered an outsider. Darren had grown up in the Midwest, while Yoongi hailed from the same town. Yoongi was also more down to earth than Darren ever had been. You couldn’t imagine Darren waking up early to help your dad cook pancakes, but Yoongi did that each time he slept over.

Shaking your head, you continued up the stairs. It didn’t really matter how Darren was different from Yoongi, since Darren wasn’t here, and he wasn’t your boyfriend.

As you continued to climb, the sounds of the first floor began to fade. Pictures were hung carefully on the wall, proof of your past your dad refused to take down. Photos of you with little league trophies, Sara in her cheerleading uniform and a terrible grouping of photos from middle school.

Passing the ones on the landing, you paused to trace over familiar faces. These photos were all from your Senior prom. Only one was the obligatory shot with your date, looking prim, proper and perfectly coiffed. The rest were of you and your friends – mainly, you and Hoseok.

Placing your suitcase on the ground, you stepped closer. Hoseok had the same mop of floppy, brown hair he had throughout most of your childhood. Grin wide, his right arm was slung over your shoulder. In one photo, you two were posed back-to-back, Men in Black style. In another, you did the classic 80’s roommates sitcom pose. The final shot had you dragging your smiles wide, eyes crossed and tongues stuck out at the camera.

When you were in elementary school, Johnny Ludowski had said if someone pushed you from behind with your eyes crossed, they would get stuck that way. Hoseok had been terrified of the idea ever since, but you’d managed to convince him to do it on prom night – only for Seokjin to sneak up and push him from behind.

Screaming bloody murder, Hoseok had then proceeded to chase Seokjin around the yard, brandishing his boutonniere pin as a weapon. You couldn’t help but smile at the memory, although this quickly faded. It had been a long time since you and Hoseok were that close.

Despite attending separate colleges, you and Hoseok had remained best friends throughout. You’d seen him each holiday, summer and even during long weekends at home. Except for the drought sophomore year when you began dating Ren What’s-His-Face, of course. Ren hadn’t liked your friendship with Hoseok, which ended up being one of the reasons you eventually broke up.

It was after college when things began to fall apart.

You’d lived on the east coast for a year and a half, staying in New York as a copy assistant for the New York Times. This job left you feeling thoroughly disillusioned by anything to do with the media. Craving creativity and distraction, you began applying for screenwriting jobs on the west coast.

Hoseok had been in grad school at the time, working two jobs and nearly as busy as you were. The little free time you had was spent together; that summer in the city was one of the best of your life, aside from the whole hating-your-job thing.

When you landed a screenwriting job at the start of the next year, the offer took Hoseok fully by surprise. He was on the cusp of graduating to start his PhD for behavioral psychology. You’d thought the timing was perfect – Hoseok would be so busy with school and research, he’d barely have time for you in New York.

Hoseok saw things differently. That was your first big fight – admittedly, you may have waited too long to tell him about the move. It had just been so difficult to figure out timing. You kept putting things off until finally, it was a week before Christmas, and you needed to move in two weeks.

You bit the bullet right before you went home, curled up on your sofa while you watched a movie. During a commercial break, you told him and Hoseok went still, though you saw him trying to hold it together. This was your dream job, and he’d wanted to be supportive.

Well – dream job was a loose term. It had been a crappily paying job writing for a kids television show, but you’d hoped it would lead to bigger things down the road. Hoseok had been remarkably calm until you said when you were leaving. Then he froze, staring at you in shock as you repeated the date.

Even that though wasn’t enough to end your friendship.

You patched up that fight quickly, unable to stay mad at each other for long. Hoseok had even helped you to move, packing up your New York apartment and flying with you across the country. He was the first guest you hosted in your new apartment, although apartment was a loose term for the hovel you lived in.

A four-bedroom apartment with only one bathroom and three other roommates. Hoseok had taken exactly one step inside before he turned around and said, “Absolutely not.”

Grabbing you by the wrist, he’d semi-jokingly tried to drag you to the curb. You’d laughed, managing to convince him that yes, this was your place and no, it wasn’t dirty and yes, you’d look for a new apartment as soon as you could afford to. Hoseok had begrudgingly agreed, making your room look as homey as possible before he had to leave.

That year was one of the hardest for you on record. Living on your own in LA, twenty-four and surrounded by unfamiliar people. Your roommates were nice, but they weren’t your friends, and they had their own problems with crazy jobs to boot. It was rare you saw them outside the house.

When you first met Darren, it had felt like fate. He’d also been lonely, a recent transplant from the Midwest and you’d instantly bonded. This had been March 2019, right after you’d begun writing for The Drop. Your PBS show had ‘released’ you – a fancy term for fired – in July and you’d waffled for a while before The Drop picked you up in November.

The Drop’s success had turned your work life around, but your personal life didn’t pick up until Darren. All throughout this, you were still best friends with Hoseok. Despite being an entire country apart, you continued to text, call and visit when you could.

As luck would have it, Hoseok planned on visiting at the end of the summer, so you were excited for the chance to introduce him to Darren. Darren’s career had begun to take off and he was in the middle of shooting what would be his first Oscar nomination. You found yourself thoroughly smitten and had recently begun saying the l-word to each other.

By the time Hoseok’s visit came, you felt as though you were on top of the world. Finally, your life was going as you’d imagined. Perfect job, perfect boyfriend – everything was beginning to fall into place.

You picked Hoseok up on a Thursday, balmy wind whipping his hair as he exited the terminal. When he saw you, he broke into the biggest smile and you remember feeling your heart twist a little. For the first time, an inharmonious chord sounded and you began to grow nervous about Hoseok meeting Darren.

Even the ride from the airport felt strange, with Hoseok quieter than usual after putting his things in the trunk. He’d rolled down the window when you entered the highway, soaking up the Los Angeles sunshine. As you passed a familiar exit, he’d frowned.

“Hey.” Hoseok had sat up, squinting out the window. “Am I going blind, or did you just pass the exit you usually take?”

Uncertain, your fingers drummed the wheel. “You’re not going blind.”

Hoseok looked at you suspiciously. “What’s going on?”

What was going on was you’d moved in with Darren about a week prior. It was still new and had been impulsive, but one of your roommates had stayed up fighting with her fiancé again and you’d simply snapped. Darren had suggested you move and it had seemed like a reasonable option.

“Okay,” you’d said, grip tightening on the wheel. “Don’t freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?” Hoseok had said, wondering. “I wouldn’t freak out, unless…” Trailing off, he looked at you sharply. “Are you… living with this guy, Y/N?”

“First off, his name is Darren and yes. I’m living with him.”

“Are you serious? You’ve known him for what, five minutes?”

“We’ve been dating for five months, actually –”

“Oh, so much better.”

“Don’t be an ass,” you’d said as you scowled.

Hoseok had rolled his eyes and settled back, but the tension between you lingered. He was quiet when you parked at Darren’s place, warming a little when he first met your boyfriend. Hoseok had always been good at putting on his mask when he needed to.

Later that night, Darren needed to run to the studio, so you and Hoseok had sat on the patio and made homemade margaritas. Begrudgingly, Hoseok agreed Darren’s apartment was nicer than the shithole you’d lived in and given his approval.

It had been tentative, though – you could tell. Deep down, you knew something lingered between you. Resentment, maybe because you hadn’t told him and anger from you, since Hoseok couldn’t just be happy for you and Darren.

The silent truce held until his last night of the trip. That night you went for drinks with Darren and his friends, who were quickly becoming your own. Except for Jimin, who hated Darren because he once saw him litter, and rarely chose to attend the same events.

At some point, you’d gone to the bathroom and when you came back, you found Hoseok with an odd look on his face.

“What’s up?” you’d said, sliding into the booth. Darren had wandered off, grabbing another round of drinks at the bar. “Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

Hoseok had slowly turned to face you.

You’d hesitated, stomach dropping because you knew that expression. Jung Hoseok was usually the nicest, most positive person you knew. When he decided to be serious, it was no laughing matter.

“Y/N…” Hoseok considered his next words carefully. “Are you happy with him?”

“What?”

“With Darren,” he’d clarified. “Do you love him?”

“I… what’s with the third degree all of a sudden?” you’d said, laughing nervously.

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing.” Hoseok had paused. “Look. This is super awkward, but I think Darren was texting someone earlier.”

You had frozen, staring at him with blank eyes. The bar around you seemed to blur into nothing.

“I… Darren?” you’d said finally, shaking your head. “That’s impossible. Who was it?”

“I didn’t get a good look at the name,” Hoseok said. “I just saw him type ‘u up?’ to someone. He angled away when he noticed me looking. I asked him who it was, and he said a friend. Then he left for the bar.”

Mind whirling, you’d glanced at the bar. Darren laughed with his friends, chatting as though nothing were the matter. When he’d seen you, he’d grinned and shot you a wink. Your heart flip-flopped in your chest because his actions just didn’t match with what Hoseok said.

Unwittingly, resentment uncurled in your stomach. At one point, you would’ve overanalyzed Hoseok stepping in to be your white knight. Back in high school, you’d fancied yourself to be in love with your best friend, but that had been a long time ago. When years passed and nothing happened between you, you’d forced yourself to move on.

It was never a sign of anything more when Hoseok didn’t like your boyfriends. He was a protective friend and you could live with that, but not when it got in the way of you making life choices.

Defensive, you’d turned back. “Well, maybe it’s not what you thought it was.”

Hoseok’s eyes had widened. “Come on, Y/N. You have to admit that doesn’t look good.”

“Well, no,” you admitted. “But I’m not about to ambush him in a bar, Hobi. Not over something you may or may not have seen on his phone.”

Annoyance clouded his expression. “Are you seriously going to trust him over me?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Hobi. He deserves for me to at least hear him out. I promise I’ll talk to him later.”

Looking away, Hoseok gave a harsh laugh.

“Talk to him. Sure, that’ll work.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.” Hoseok returned to you, gaze fierce. “I guess I’m just not surprised. You’ve been so distant ever since you started dating Darren – just like you were with Ren. Whenever you date someone, Y/N, you get so caught up in them you forget who you are.”

You had reeled backwards, staring at him in shock. “Are you… serious, Hobi? Have you ever stopped to wonder if maybe I’m not the problem here – maybe you are?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re unreasonably protective!” you’d said. “Every time I date someone, you don’t like them and then you butt in until they break up with me. That’s what happened with Ren, you know. He thought you were in love with me.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “Can I not tell you what I think? I’m supposed to be your best friend! Of course, I want the best for you. And Ren was an ass! If he felt that threatened by you having guy friends, he didn’t deserve you.”

“Sure, but Darren isn’t like that!”

“You’re right,” Hoseok said with a scowl. “He’s worse. I think he’s cheating on you, Y/N.”

Abruptly, you’d stood from the table. “You’ve been weird ever since you got here,” you’d said, fighting back tears.

Hoseok had stood as well. “Yeah, well maybe if you’d told me what I was walking into, I wouldn’t be acting weird. You said Darren was just some guy! Said you barely saw him between all your work on The Drop. How in the hell are you living together?”

Cheeks heating, you’d shrugged aside his words because you didn’t have an answer. Hoseok was right – you’d downplayed your relationship each time you two had spoken and you didn’t know why.

“I think you should go,” you’d said stiffly, folding your arms over your chest. “I’ll talk to Darren, I promise, but I think you should go.”

Hoseok had stared at you a moment, breathing ragged. “Is that… is that really what you want?”

No, it had not been what you wanted. You hadn’t wanted to see Hoseok leave, but you couldn’t fathom a response which didn’t hurt either one of you more.

“Yeah,” you’d said softly.

Hoseok had swallowed. “I… alright, fine.”

Finishing the last of his drink, Hoseok had set his money down and called a cab. You’d mumbled an excuse to Darren later when he asked, saying Hoseok hadn’t been feeling well. By the time you returned home from the bar, Hoseok was asleep. You barely talked the next morning on the drive to the airport.

It wasn’t as though you and Hoseok had never fought before that night. You didn’t make it through nearly two decades of friendship without ups and downs, but this had to be the longest down you’d ever had. One of you usually broke down and called the other, but not this time. This time felt oddly final.

The distance had hurt you at first – really hurt. It felt almost like a break-up, that’s how strange it was to have Hoseok out of your life. Luckily, you’d had Darren to help pick up the pieces. Losing Hoseok had brought you closer to Darren and for a while, you’d thought that was how things were meant to be.

Obviously, you’d begun to rethink things lately.

You never did ask Darren about the text Hoseok saw and now, you realized Hoseok had probably been right. It was painful to imagine Darren cheating on you so early on. The idea of him falling in love with his co-star hurt a lot less than the idea of her being the latest in a long line of flings.

Swallowing hard, you picked up your suitcase and continued down the hall. Entering your old room, you flipped on the light and shut the door. Opening your suitcase, you began to unpack and then released a sigh, flopping down on your bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but smile. Glow-in-the-dark constellations speckled the paint, some of them nonsense and others mirroring the real thing. It’d taken you and Hoseok hours to glue them in place. He’d been obsessed with Greek Mythology at the time – talk about a behavioral psych project – and you’d been terrified of the dark.

Familiar constellations stared back at you. Cassiopeia, Orion, and your personal favorite – the little dipper. You loved the idea of Polaris, the North Star, calling you home. There were less conventional constellations there, too. Directly overhead was the outline of a dick.

It had been a joke at the time, intended to be moved, but Hoseok had used the Krazy Stick glue. Your parents had been furious, grounding you for a month in retribution. Still, the sight never failed to make you grin.

Your smile faded though, realizing how long it’d been since you last laughed with Hoseok. Rolling onto your side, you wondered what tomorrow night would bring. Sara had forwarded the party details to your calendar when you got home and you highly her saying it’d be a small affair.

You liked Yoongi a lot and were incredibly happy to have him in the family. He’d gone to your same high school as you but had been a year older and you hadn’t become friends until college. Yoongi and Hoseok attended the same University and had bonded over their shared hometown.

That was how Yoongi had met Sara. You, Hoseok and Yoongi had hung out one night when Sara decided to show up at the bar. The rest, as they say, was history.

It wasn’t a surprise you’d see Hoseok this weekend. You’d known as soon as you agreed to come home it would likely happen. You had hoped though, with weeks to prepare, you would’ve come up with something better to say.

It had been a year since you’d talked and during that time, Hoseok had been proven right about everything. It would be humiliating to face him, more so than anyone else. Nausea prickled your stomach and you sighed, closing your eyes.

You could do this, you told yourself. A week of polite chit-chat, skirting around important topics and pretending to everyone you had your life together.

Then, you could return to LA and fall apart again.

The next morning you found yourself seated around the breakfast table, wondering if you’d been wrong to dread coming home. Honestly, there was nothing better than your dad’s homemade omelets in the morning.

As soon as you began eating though, your mom asked what jobs were on the table and you instantly realized it had been a trap. You brushed her questions aside with vague remarks about choosing the right next step. Once you were finished, you hightailed it upstairs before your mom could pry any further.

Coincidentally, Jimin had sent over a bunch of job postings that morning. None of them were super interesting, but at least they were something. A Disney Channel show about a hidden princess, a reality TV dating show, and a crime-thriller drama. With a sigh, you pulled your laptop closer and sent your resume and examples.

At this point, you just needed something to make rent at the end of this month. You could figure out your career after that, but until then you had bills to pay. A few seasons of a successful show weren’t enough to guarantee success in this business. You couldn’t afford to have any pride.

Sighing again, you finished sending out emails and closed your laptop. Staring out your room’s window, you watched the street below.

Mrs. Haberdash power-walked on the sidewalk, jabbering a mile a minute to Mrs. Mum on her other side. Both were dressed in the latest Target athletic wear line. Seeing them, the corners of your lips lifted. Hoseok had always called them the tweedles – after Tweedledee and Tweedledum. This had been the height of hilarity for twelve-year olds, made even more hilarious by the fact that Mrs. Haberdash’s first name was Dee.

The Tweedles happened to be two of the most annoying creatures on the planet. Mrs. Haberdash was the neighborhood busybody, but Mrs. Mum was the one you really had to watch out for. She usually chose to garden out in her front yard, trimming the same bush while listening to all her neighbors.

You hadn’t missed them much in LA, but it was comforting to know they were up to the same old tricks. Josen Falls felt like this each time you returned. You didn’t realize how much you missed things until you were here, surrounded by people who’d shaped your early life.

Josen Falls never seemed to change in any of the ways that mattered. It was the land time had forgotten; a town where people bought name brand groceries only if they had a coupon. A place where Lou, the milkman, was more known than any Hollywood actor.

Indeed, your initial decision to leave for LA had always been met with confusion. It was bad enough a lot of your friend group currently lived in New York. They were viewed with vague suspicion, including Yoongi and Sara, whom Mrs. Haberdash called ‘hoity-toity’ behind their backs. This was Josen Falls’ version of the b-word.

Speaking of whom – Sara had greatly misled you when she said all you needed to do was show up tonight.

As it so happened, a lot needed to be done before the party started at 7:00 PM. You spent most of the day running errands, going down Sara’s checklist with painstaking precision Jimin would’ve been proud of.

Jimin was your only real friend in LA. You’d happened upon him purely by chance, working the shit PBS job you’d had for less than a year. Jimin had been the assistant for all writers at PBS, so when you began writing for The Drop, you’d managed to finagle him a job as well. Jimin had been your assistant ever since, taking on additional clients as his fame grew.

Currently, he worked for you pro bono, but this couldn’t continue for much longer. Jimin always waved aside your insistence of paying him back. He said you’d made his career, but you hated having this hanging overhead. Once you started working again, Jimin would be the first check you’d cut. Simply put, he was the best in the business, and he deserved to be paid.

Despite this, Sara’s list of demands would’ve made even him flinch. You needed to get floral centerpieces, the cake from the bakery, procure blue and silver streamers and drop baking supplies off at your grandma’s. This was only the front side.

By the time you returned home around six, Sara was in a tizzy. Everyone needed to leave for the restaurant in forty-five minutes, and you still needed to shower. Hurrying upstairs, you yelled that everything was under control. After the fastest shower of your life, you made good on your promise and rushed out the door at 6:40 PM.

Your mom had left earlier to ensure decorations were perfect, so when you got there, Raffi’s was a veritable winter wonderland. Blue and silver streamers hung from above, paired with elegant flowers and vases on the table.

There wasn’t much time to appreciate this, though, since guests began to arrive soon after you did. Yoongi was the first one through the door, following Sara’s detailed instructions down to the T. When he entered, Sara’s anxiety melted as she rushed to greet him. Yoongi let out a muffled grunt when she hugged him, but from the goofy grin on his face, you knew he was faking.

Yoongi was a man of medium-height, slight build, and an intense demeanor. Luckily, your sister was the type of person who instantly saw through that. When she first met Yoongi, he’d barely said two words to her, and she saw it as a personal challenge. She would get Yoongi to speak to her.

Little did she know, he’d been harboring a fat crush on Sara since she walked through the door. Sara tended to have that effect on people. When Yoongi did speak, it was to blurt out in frustration he fucking liked her. Sara had been the one floored at that point.

Pulling back from the hug, Yoongi removed his coat to hang on the rack. As he entered the main room, he spotted you and walked over. Sara stayed by the door to greet Yoongi’s brother.

“Y/N.” Yoongi grinned, coming to a stop. “Long time, no see.”

“The longest,” you agreed with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

You had missed him – that wasn’t a lie. Part of the downside to staying in LA was missing time with your friends from home. Of course, you still had the friend group chat, but it wasn’t the same.

“You don’t have a drink.” Yoongi observed your bare hands.

“Not yet.”

“Sara will fix that soon.”

As though on cue, your sister popped up beside you. “Here you go, Y/N!” she said, handing over a glass of red wine.

Yoongi winked and you laughed, accepting the glass you were handed. Catching this exchange, your sister pouted.

“Were you talking about me?” she said.

“Yes.” Yoongi squeezed her against his side. “Terrible things, all of them.”

“Good.” Sara raised her drink to her lips. “How boring would it be if people complimented you when you left the room?”

Snorting, you tried not to spit wine back in your glass. The other hardest part of living across the country was being away from your sister. Sara loved taking care of people – already, you saw her scanning the room for who else needed a drink. Even though she was the youngest of the family, she loved to play hostess.

As Yoongi sipped his whiskey, neat, you noticed his eyes continually stray towards your sister. It was sweet. His world truly seemed to revolve around her, and you couldn’t help but hope someone would look at you that way one day.

As another of Sara’s bridesmaids arrived, she squealed and darted across the room. Yoongi sighed and followed, taking his whiskey with. He waved goodbye, not seeming unhappy in the slightest as he followed your sister.

You watched them go, glad Sara could enjoy the party despite the small ache in your heart. As happy as you were for them, you couldn’t help but look at Sara and Yoongi and see yourself. Not long ago, you’d had someone to stand beside you at parties. Darren wasn’t that person to you anymore, though. If you were being totally honest – Darren had never been that person to you. Not in the same way Yoongi was to Sara.

Sighing quietly, you took a large sip of your wine and looked up as the door opened.

A gust of snow blew in, along with a familiar face, and all the blood instantly drained from your expression.

Whirling around, you chugged the rest of your wine as you made for the bar. The taste made you wince – no wine was meant to be chugged – but it couldn’t be helped. There was absolutely no way you’d be in direct line of sight when Jung Hoseok entered the party.

Setting your now-empty glass on the bar, you gave the bartender a weak smile as you ordered another. While he was busy with this, you tapped your fingernails against the counter. Quickly, you glanced over your shoulder.

Hoseok remained in the entrance, not looking in your direction – thank the lord. He was paused in removing his coat, nodding at someone who stood before him. Based on the back of their head, it seemed Hoseok was talking to Mr. Min, Yoongi’s dad.

His jacket was unfamiliar, a plaid pea coat thrown over a white button-down. As he bent, your eyes widened, and your breath caught in your throat. Hoseok had dyed his hair black, which was something he’d always wanted to do – and was that an undercut? Shit.

When Hoseok laughed, his eyes crinkled, and you felt your heart tighten. As he fully removed his coat, you saw the outfit underneath. He’d paired the crisp, white shirt with navy pants and those dumb Balenciaga sneakers he loved to wear. When you saw them, you nearly groaned but caught yourself just in time.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked up.

Instantly, you turned and saw your wine before you. “Thanks,” you said, sliding a dollar across the bar as a tip.

Grabbing the glass, you immediately moved as far as you could from the entrance. All you needed was a group of people to disappear into. You picked the first one you could find, wedging yourself between two older women who moved aside easily.

As soon as you looked up, you realized you’d chosen wrong.

The Tweedles stared back, along with a few other neighborhood busybodies. Mrs. Haberdash seemed thrilled, while Mrs. Mum looked – well, she looked how she always looked. Barely awake.

Weakly, you smiled. “Hi,” you said with a wave.

“Y/N!” Mrs. Haberdash clapped her hands. “Home for the holidays, I see. What a surprise!”

Although it wasn’t a question, you found yourself nodding as though it was. “Yes,” you agreed, taking a sip of your wine. “Had to be home for all the celebrations.”

“Oh, of course, of course. But how awkward,” she said, lowering her voice a pitch. “Why, we all saw the tabloids. Your mother told us not to say anything, but you’ve been through such an ordeal. That actor boyfriend of yours… what’s his name again? Derek?”

“Darren,” you said with a tight smile. “We broke up over the summer. I don’t see how that’s related to Sara and Yoongi, though.”

“Oh, it’s not,” Mrs. Haberdash assured. “It’s just so brave of you to show up here, all alone and –”

“She’s not alone,” said a familiar voice, stepping into the circle. “She has me.”

Kim Seokjin slung an arm around your neck, pulling you close in a semi-chokehold. It was less a romantic gesture than a modified wrestling move, but that was Seokjin. One of your closest friends growing up, he now lived in Seattle, so you were pleasantly surprised to find him home for the holidays.

“Oh!” Mrs. Haberdash looked between you. “I apologize. I didn’t know the two of you were, um, well…”

“Lovers?” Seokjin supplied helpfully.

Mrs. Haberdash nearly spit out her drink.

Turning around, you plucked a mini quiche from a passing tray. “Here, sweetums,” you said, lifting this to Seokjin’s lips. “Open wide!”

Before he could oblige, Mrs. Mum cleared her throat. “I’m out of wine,” she said, much to your relief. “Dee, why don’t we…?”

“Ah, yes,” said Mrs. Haberdash. Shaking her head, she seemed to compose herself. She’d been staring, a bit dazed, at Seokjin’s open mouth. “Well, it was lovely to see you, Y/N…”

Trailing off, she practically ran from your presence, the rest of her group following within seconds. Once they’d all disappeared, Seokjin snorted.

“Damn,” he said, looking at you. “I really thought you were going to feed me that mini quiche. You know what food play does to me, Y/N.”

“Gross,” you laughed, wrinkling your nose. Stepping out of his chokehold, you gave Seokjin a hug. “It’s good to see you, despite your weird kinks.”

“Same.” Seokjin pulled back to give you the swift onceover. “Yoongi was right. You’ve lost weight.”

“Will everyone stop discussing my appearance?” you wondered out loud. “Guess what – my weight? Off-limits!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Seokjin laughed. “I mean, you look hot whatever weight you are. Yoongi had to issue a group ban to his cousins, telling them the maid of honor was off limits.”

“Really?” you said, glancing around you with interest. “Why’d he do that? Maybe I want a rebound.”

“Take that up with Yoongi,” he said. “But seriously, Y/N, it’s good to see you. It’s been awhile since you came home.”

Exhaling softly, you glanced down at your glass. “Don’t make me give you the same excuses as Mrs. Haberdash,” you said quietly. “I’ve been busy. Out in LA, getting my heart stomped on, you know. The usual.”

Seokjin was silent a moment and when you looked up, his gaze was shrewder than he had any right to be.

“You’re right,” he said at last, plucking the empty drink from your hand. “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s talk about what alcohol we want to drink next. I think I saw Namjoon at the bar.”

“Joonie?” you said, perking up as you followed.

Seokjin was right – as you approached the bar, you saw another childhood friend, Kim Namjoon, leaning against the counter. As a rising civil rights lawyer in New York, he was now considered to be something of a Big Deal, but this didn’t stop Seokjin from trying to give him a wedgie.

Namjoon dodged. “Thanks,” he said, only to spot you behind Seokjin. His eyes widened. “Y/N!” Namjoon said, nearly spilling his drink to wrap you in a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming home tonight!”

“Yeah,” you said, grinning as you pulled away. “Just got in last night.”

“It’s so good to see you.” Namjoon beamed.

“Yeah, yeah.” Seokjin leaned on the counter. “An appletini for me and for the lady, a glass of your cheapest red wine.”

The bartender stared, baffled and you came to his rescue.

“Chianti,” you said, then returned to Namjoon. “Ah, seriously. I’m so glad we’re all together again.”

“Same,” he said, looking you up and down. “Wow, you look –”

“I swear to god. If you say one thing about my weight.”

“… cheerful,” finished Namjoon weakly. “Must be the holidays.”

Seokjin snorted, turning with a green martini in hand. You accepted the glass of red wine he handed you and glanced around. Despite your earlier threats, it was good to see them. Like most things about Josen Falls, you never realized how much you missed them until you were here.

Scanning the room, you realized the restaurant had started to fill. You spotted Sara and Yoongi walking in, stopping to chat with Lana, who owned the local coffee shop. Just behind them stood your mom and to her right – your stomach swooped.

To her right was Hoseok.

He was chatting with one of your aunts, making her laugh in a way she rarely did. Dimly, you hoped they weren’t talking about you.

Forcing your gaze to Seokjin and Namjoon, you took a sip of your wine. “Wow,” you exhaled. “So, how long has it been?”

“Let’s see.” Seokjin swirled his appletini. “I think the last time we were together was for Namjoon’s sister’s wedding. So, what was that – last spring? Damn, that feels like forever ago.”

“It’s been nearly eight months,” Namjoon agreed. “Seems longer. Especially since Y/N was only there for part of the weekend. She left early to be with – uh, to go do something. I don’t… remember what, exactly.”

Shutting up, Namjoon’s cheeks turned pink and you tried not to laugh. He’d been about to say you left to be with Darren on the set of his movie. This, of course, had been before you knew Darren was cheating on you.

“It’s alright,” you assured him. “Don’t feel like you need to tip-toe around it. It’s just the Mrs. Haberdashes of the world I’d rather avoid.”

“Tweedledee?” Namjoon made a face. “Is that who Seokjin rescued you from?”

“The one and only.”

“She was asking Y/N about that douchebag,” said Seokjin. “Acting like Y/N needed to be pitied when really, this is a good thing! Y/N is free from all that hair gel and we have our Y/N back.”

Blinking, you stared at him for a second. You hadn’t realized how your friends felt about Darren. Sara had alluded to something similar when she was drunk, but you hadn’t realized the true extent. Possibly Hoseok had been right – you did tend to get blinders when you began dating someone.

Glancing around, you began to panic when you realized Hoseok had moved. Covertly scanning the premises of the bar, you failed to spot him anywhere else.

Leaning casually backwards, you glanced at the hall – no Hoseok. This put you on edge, the same way being in the room with a dangerous animal might make one nervous if they couldn’t see it.

“Crick in your neck, Y/N?” Seokjin said pleasantly. “Namjoon went to school for a long time. He probably knows how to fix that.”

“I went to law school, Seokjin, not med school.”

“Are the two different?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced before Namjoon’s eyes could bug out any further. Placing your glass on the counter, you turned and patted his arm. “Catch up with you later, okay?”

Both of them nodded, Seokjin taking a long sip of his drink before frowning. As you left, you heard him say, “But seriously, Namjoon. What do you do for a living?”

Namjoon sounded vaguely insulted in his response, so you slipped to the hall. Continuing to scan the restaurant, you found yourself distracted by the sheer amount of people around you. Hoseok was nowhere to be seen, which only served to increase your nervousness.

You were so busy looking for him, you failed to notice where you were going. As you turned the corner, you tripped on a rug and stumbled – straight into Hoseok, who exited the next room.

Both of you reeled, trying and failing to right yourselves.

“Shit!” you blurted, grabbing his shoulders in an attempt not to fall.

Hoseok’s right hand encircled your waist as you fell against him. His back hit the wall, your chest flush to his while you stared at him, wide-eyed.

Meeting your gaze, Hoseok froze underneath you. His hand remained on your waist; your body curved against his in a way which felt strangely intimate. Heat radiated between you for a moment, and then you came to your senses, remembering who you were and what you were doing.

“I – I’m sorry,” you said, scrambling backwards. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Me neither,” said Hoseok, sounding hoarse.

Hearing his voice, you forgot what to say. You thought you’d been prepared to see him again, but now you realized how woefully wrong you’d been. Nothing could prepare you for standing before him, with Hoseok holding himself like that – as though you were a stranger.

Swallowing away your discomfort, you met his gaze. You could do this, you told yourself. You could smile, thank him for coming and then move past.

“You look good,” you blurted out.

Or – you could do that. Inwardly, you cursed.

Hoseok blinked. “Oh. Thanks.”

You waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, you began to feel foolish. Wishing the earth would swallow you whole, you glanced past Hoseok and stared at the door.

You hadn’t been lying, though – Hoseok did look good. Had you been through a breakup, you would’ve said he was the winner. You two hadn’t been dating, though. You’d only been best friends; he’d only been the most important guy in your life before your friendship had ended.

The pain of this burned, stinging the back of your throat.

Hoseok slowly exhaled. “So. Yoongi said you’re Sara’s maid of honor?”

Surprised, you glanced back. You’d nearly forgotten. “Yeah,” you said. “You’re going to be Yoongi’s best man, right?’

“Yep.”

“… Cool.”

Silence fell between again and, somewhat miserable, you looked away. Hoseok clearly had nothing to say and you couldn’t think of anything better to say than cool. He seemed so unmoved, so unruffled by your presence and you could barely hold it together.

You couldn’t help wondering what Hoseok had heard about you. You wondered if he knew you’d broken up with Darren, if he knew The Drop was ending after this season. You wondered if he knew you thought about him way too much to be considered normal.

While you were wallowing in self-pity, Hoseok cleared his throat. This time when you looked, he seemed vaguely uncomfortable.

“Look,” Hoseok exhaled, but you never found out what he was going to say, since Jungkook came barreling around the corner.

“Y/N!” he yelled, rushing forward.

You let out an oof, laughing as he hugged you. Jungkook was one of your sister’s best friends from high school and had since become one of yours by default.

Pulling back, Jungkook glanced between you and Hoseok. “Oh, hey Hobi,” he said, as though nothing was wrong. “Yoongi was looking for you a minute ago. Said something about cufflinks in your car?”

“Oh, shit.” Hoseok winced. “Which room is he in?”

Jungkook pointed and Hoseok, after a glance in your direction, nodded and left. He didn’t say goodbye before he disappeared and you stood there for a moment, staring at his back.

Deep down, you’d known this was how things would go. Nothing had changed since you stopped being friends except, you’d broken up with Darren. While that may have started the fight between you and Hoseok, it had been over a year since. Lots of hurt and confusion had come between you. It was foolish to imagine something might have changed.

“Want another drink?” Jungkook interrupted your thoughts. “Namjoon and Seokjin are inside at the bar.”

Nodding gratefully, you followed Jungkook into the restaurant, realizing belatedly you hadn’t gone to the bathroom. Not that you’d needed to go. That had only been an excuse to escape Hoseok, which had majorly backfired.

As you rejoined the group at the bar, you ordered another drink and tried to forget. It was strange to be in the same room as Hoseok and not stand beside him. Some basic, molecular part of yourself refused to accept the fact you were no longer friends. This part of yourself longed to cross the room and tell Hoseok about your run in with the Tweedles, but you couldn’t.

Still, you forced yourself to keep smiling. This was Sara and Yoongi’s night, after all. Pushing Hoseok from mind, you drank and attempted to forget the mortification you felt each time you caught sight of him in your peripheral.

It was in this way the night passed. By the end, you were relieved to make it through without major incident. Your friends were the last to go, Seokjin shrugging on a bomber jacket you deemed completely inappropriate for the temperature outside. He kissed you on the cheek, loudly calling you his lover again for Mrs. Haberdash’s sake (who had left an hour prior) until Namjoon physically pulled him out the door.

You helped your mom clean until she shooed you away and told you to leave. Your dad, who’d been labeled designated driver, grandly bowed before leaving to heat up the car.

It was your job to wrangle Sara, who had her arms wrapped around Yoongi’s neck and was refusing to go. Yoongi, whose cheeks were pink with alcohol, didn’t seem to mind, but he flushed a darker shade once he realized your dad was waiting.

“C’mon babe,” he said, handing Sara over to you. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Promise.”

Sara sighed, but allowed herself to be extricated and led out the door. Hoseok had left around the same time as Seokjin and Namjoon, so he wasn’t there when you entered the parking lot. It had begun to snow again, so you walked as fast as you could towards your dad’s car.

Placing Sara in the backseat, you entered the passenger side and turned on the radio. It was tuned to the Christmas station, which made you think about holidays when you were children. The night felt largely the same, with Sara singing in the backseat while your dad harmonized in falsetto.

You laughed and joined in but couldn’t seem to shake the heavy weight from your chest. If this were really like your childhood, Hoseok would have texted at least twice by now.

As it was, your phone remained empty the rest of the way home and you fell asleep that night wondering what he’d been about to say.

The next day passed uneventfully, with Fridays being low-key around the house. Both your parents were working, only taking off the next week for Christmas, so you and Sara lounged until your dad’s conference calls became too distracting.

Heading up to your room, you opened your laptop and sat at your desk. Staring at the screenplay pulled up on the page, you sighed. One for the Money was your pet project, something you’d worked on the past few years whenever you had spare time. It had been on hold for a while due to The Drop, but you’d had more time to work on it lately.

The spec script was finished, but each time you sent it out, you received negative responses. It would’ve been helpful had the studios given you critique, but nothing so far surmounted to anything more than a corporate template.

You had re-read the script many times, hoping to spot whatever it was everyone hated. Unfortunately, you seemed to be having about as much luck with this in your bedroom as you had in LA – aka, no luck.

Maybe this had something to do with your surroundings. Each time you glanced up you spotted another reminder of Hoseok. Beneath your desk was a stain from the night you’d dared Hoseok to fit as many marshmallows in his mouth as he could. He’d gotten to fifteen before he nearly choked and spat the glob on the carpet. As it turned out, marshmallow goo was surprisingly hard to clean.

That had been the only time your mom had gotten mad at Hoseok. Normally, he walked on water at your household, but your mom had gone so far as to gently admonish him that day. Hoseok had been extremely apologetic, scrubbing on both hands and knees, but the stain refused to come out.

Glancing away, you tried to think of something else, but your gaze found your bed and you were gone once again. You recalled the night your Grandma died; you’d refused to answer Hoseok’s texts. He’d been so worried he’d climbed up the trellis beneath your window and knocked until you let him in.

Hoseok had stayed the entire night, holding you and letting you cry into his grey hoodie.

Shutting your laptop, you let out a sigh. This room was too distracting – every other room in the house would be distracting, as well. Shoving your things in your bag, you slung this over your shoulder and stood from your desk. What you needed was a fresh change of pace.

Hurrying downstairs, you paused at the landing to yell you needed the car. Your dad yelled back, “Sure, Lucy!” and you grabbed the keys from the hook. Throwing on a coat, you got in his sedan and – shivering violently – drove the several blocks over to your favorite coffee shop.

As you entered Lana’s Corner, holiday bells jingled overhead. The woman behind the counter looked up, breaking into a smile when she saw it was you.

“Y/N!” Lana gushed, rushing forward. Wrapping you in a warm hug, she squeezed and took a step back. “You’re home! I heard you went to LA and made something of yourself. Way to go!”

Shaking your head, you attempted a smile. “Well, tried to, anyways.”

“No, no – none of that,” she said, shaking her finger as she returned behind the counter. “You’ve done wonderful things and there’s more to come. I can feel it. The usual?” she asked, stopping at the register. “Hot chocolate with extra marshmallows?”

You paused, since this had been your favorite drink in high school, but you rarely drank hot chocolate these days. As much as you hated to say LA had rubbed off on you, it was a lot of sugar for mid-afternoon.

Deciding, fuck it, you shrugged. “Sure,” you said, heading to your old table by the windows. “Thanks, Lana!”

Shrugging from your coat, you draped this over your chair and sat down. Lana was odd in that she insisted people eat and drink before paying a dime. Said she didn’t want to charge people if they didn’t enjoy her food – you’d fought this for a while but had eventually given up. Lana was even more stubborn than you.

Pulling out your laptop, you opened your email and saw Jimin had sent more jobs. Releasing a sigh, you opened the first one.

Lana brought your hot chocolate within minutes, placing it beside your laptop to cool. You continued to work while you sipped the confection. There was something about your screenplay you clearly weren’t seeing, but you had no idea how to take a step back and be more objective.

Midway through editing, you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Digging around in your bag, you pulled it out to answer.

“Hello?” you said.

“Hello!” a bright voice chirped. “Y/N?”

“Yes, this is she. With whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, you’re too much!” the other person said with a laugh. “No need to be so formal, darling. This is Daisy from MTV. You applied to our screenwriter position yesterday?”

Frantically, you racked your brain for which TV show this was.

“Uh, right,” you said, scrolling through your inbox. “Thank you so much for getting back to me so quickly!”

“Of course, of course. I have to say, we were surprised to see your resume! Someone who used to write for The Drop isn’t exactly our usual suspect.”

“Oh, well… I have a varied interest across all forms of media.”

“Mm, is that so?”

There was rustling on the other end, as though Daisy were sifting through papers. Biting down on your lip, you scanned more of Jimin’s emails while she paused.

“I assume your assistant told you about Roulette?”

Immediately, you stopped looking and felt your heart sink.

Roulette was a terrible reality dating show Jimin had sent your way. Its premise was the following – someone went on three dates and was asked to choose one person at the end. The catch was one date was someone they’d passed over on a dating app, one was someone who’d passed over them on a dating app and the third was the ex of someone in their real life.

You hated the premise for multiple reasons, but mostly because you couldn’t believe someone wouldn’t recognize any of these people. Especially the supposed ex of someone they knew.

Teeth gritted, you said, “Right, of course. Jimin told me about the concept and I found it so interesting. Lots of room for conflict.”

“Bingo!” Daisy laughed. “Conflict is reality TV’s bread and butter. I like to think of it as the new recipe for storytelling. Rather than the classic rising action, climax and falling action – it’s all rise. You know Shakespeare was considered uncultured in his time, right? He wrote plays which appealed to the masses and now, our kids study him in lit class. Maybe one day people will study the Kardashians.”

Lips parted, you struggled to keep up with her dizzying rhetoric. Honestly, someone probably should study the Kardashians if they hadn’t already. Say what you wanted about their culturally appropriating asses; they knew how to make money.

“That would be… something,” you said, realizing she wanted an answer. “Anyways, what questions did you have for me?”

“Oh, nothing so formal as that.” Daisy laughed. “Why don’t you just pitch me a few ideas for the show? Where would you suggest for a first date?”

Networks sometimes did this, asking writers during the interview if they had ideas. Normally though, you at least were given a heads-up this was coming. Staring into your hot chocolate, you scrambled for concepts.

“Um, let’s see,” you said, stalling for time. “They could go to an arcade?”

“Hm.” Daisy tsk-ed. “That kind of thing has been done to death. Anything else?”

“Sure, uh… there are bars where you can go axe-throwing. It’s supposed to be oddly therapeutic.”

“Interesting, interesting… any other ideas? Something a bit more… original?”

Vaguely annoyed by her tone, you straightened in your seat.

“Okay, well,” you said. “If it’s a dating show, there’s no time for pining. I say you throw them into situations where emotions are heightened. Make them fall for each other faster. Maybe something with a shark cage, or skydiving, or cliff-jumping.”

“Adrenaline is always good!”

“Yeah,” you said, relaxing a little. “My ex-boyfriend and I repelled down a waterfall on vacation and it was terrifying, but super romantic after. You feel closer to someone after escaping a near-death experience.”

“Love that!” Daisy sounded interested for the very first time. “Was this with your ex-boyfriend, Darren Carmichael?”

Blinking, you weren’t sure how she knew that about you. It seemed the screenwriting world was smaller than you’d thought.

“I – uh, no,” you said, lying through your teeth. “Someone else.”

“Oh.” Her voice fell flat. “Well, these are all great suggestions, Y/N. I like your style. What do you say we end things here, and someone will call you in a few days with the offer?”

“I – so soon?” you said, eyebrows shooting up.

“We like to work fast around here. I hire based on gut feeling.”

Wincing a little, you stopped yourself from telling her this was a poor hiring practice. Research had shown hiring from ‘gut feeling’ led to discriminatory practices, since it almost always led to hiring people who looked and thought like you did.

“That’s… great,” you said, however weakly.

“So, we start shooting the second week of January. We’ll need you onsite the first week though, make sure everything is lined up and ready to go.”

“Oh. That’s so soon!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Ah – no, not at all,” you hastened, trying to remember when your plane flight back to LA was. “Just excited to get started.”

“That’s what I like to hear! Alright, tell your assistant to keep an eye on his email and we’ll be in touch. Any questions for me before I go?”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “None here. Thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“Listen to you.” Daisy chuckled. “So cute. Talk to you soon, darling! Happy holidays, and all that.”

She hung up, leaving only a dial tone as you stared at the wall. Slowly lowering your phone, you let out a sigh.

You didn’t want this job. The show sounded terrible, but there was nothing you could do. You needed to work to pay rent and put food on the table. You could afford to be picky once you’d managed to save a bit more.

Rubbing your temples, you brought your now-empty cup of hot chocolate over to the counter. Setting this down in the bin, you glanced around the café. Lana sometimes disappeared to make the baked goods herself.

Craning your neck, you glanced towards the back room as the door behind you opened.

“Y/N?”

You whirled, elbow hitting the cup and nearly knocking it from the counter. Catching this just in time, you exhaled in relief and looked up to see Hoseok.

He hovered just inside the door, unwrapping his scarf. Snowflakes were scattered across both hair and coat, quickly melting in the warmth of the room.

“Careful with that.” Hoseok glanced at your cup. “You’ll take someone’s eye out.”

Against all better judgement, you grinned. “A Christmas Story?” you said, naming the movie he misquoted. “Really?”

Hoseok simply smiled. A Christmas Story was his dad’s favorite holiday movie – as a result, Hoseok knew every line and could quote it by heart, even though he hated the movie. Forced osmosis, he liked to say.

“What can I say?” he said, glancing over your shoulder. “Tis the season. Hey, Lana!”

“Hoseok!” Lana bustled out of the back room. “It’s been too long since I last saw you. I hear you’ve been up to impressive things yourself.”

Hoseok looked vaguely embarrassed.

“Nah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Just the usual, you know.”

“Your mom says you’re working on your dissertation? And that there’s talk of you working at the University once you’re done?”

Surprised, you glanced at Hoseok. You hadn’t heard that, but then again, you wouldn’t have. Of course, Hoseok wouldn’t have told you he was after his dream job.

Indeed, his cheeks were faintly pink while facing Lana. “Ah, yeah.” Hoseok gave a little laugh. “We’ll see what happens. I still have a little while before I get my doctorate.”

“Always knew you’d save the world,” Lana said. “You and Y/N, the unstoppable couple.”

Instantly, your cheeks began to heat. “Oh, we weren’t –”

“Not a couple, we –”

Both of you stopped and looked at each other.

Eyebrows raised, Lana began to back away. “I left some dishes soaking in the other room – just came out because I heard the door chime. Y/N, I’ll ring you up when I’m back!”

She disappeared, leaving you and Hoseok alone. Resting your hip on the counter, you glanced again at Hoseok. He seemed a bit flustered, but didn’t say anything more, looking instead at the specials overhead.

Releasing a sigh, you turned around to wait.

Hoseok cleared his throat behind you. “So, listen,” he said, surprising you into looking. “I wanted to talk to you last night about something.”

“What about?” you said, turning fully to face him.

Hoseok pushed a hand through his hair. Cut black strands fell about his face, making you stare. Quickly, you snapped yourself out of this.

“I can’t believe you got an undercut,” you said before you could stop yourself.

Hoseok froze. “Huh?”

“Your hair,” you said, gesturing loosely. Great – another awkward remark about Hoseok’s appearance. “You always said you wanted to do that. I guess I’m just surprised you did it.”

Hoseok paused, then gave you an odd look. “Yeah, well. There’s been a lot of things I wanted to do but didn’t. Figured an undercut shouldn’t be one of them.”

Feeling oddly thrown by this statement, you nodded and turned back around. Leaning over the counter, you searched for Lana and saw no one. With a sigh, you drew back and pondered whether to just place money on the counter and leave.

Lana calling you a couple hadn’t been a coincidence. Ever since you were little, most people in town had assumed you were dating – at first, it had been funny, but now it was something of a sore spot for you. Especially because you’d liked Hoseok back in high school and nothing had happened.

“Right,” you said tightly. “Okay.”

Hoseok hesitated.  “Anyways, I wanted to apologize about last night. I know I was abrupt in the hall. I just… Yoongi hadn’t warned me you’d be there. I thought you were still in LA.”

“Ah.”

“Not that that’s an excuse,” he continued. “I was rude to you, and that’s not okay.”

“No, Hobi, I – I mean, Hoseok,” you corrected, cheeks heating when you said his nickname. “It’s understandable. It’s been… a long time since we’ve talked.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

The silence between you few and this time, you were the one who looked away first. If Lana didn’t return soon, you were going to leave a ten on the counter and call it a day.

“That’s not all I wanted to say,” Hoseok said, surprising you.

Brows raised, you turned back. “It wasn’t?”

He slowly shook his head.

Some people might have been unnerved by this version of Hoseok. Usually, Hoseok was the loudest person in the room. Always laughing, smiling, or telling someone a joke. He was the life of the party, but this side of him existed, too. The quieter, more serious version of Hoseok. The version who laid on your bed and made-up random stories about the time Orion fought your giant dick constellation.

Lips twitching, you smothered this thought. Hoseok wasn’t your friend anymore and you weren’t reminiscing together.

“Look.” He paused. “This is awkward.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Hoseok gave you a look.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, trying hard not to smile. “Please continue.”

He rolled his eyes, and the gesture was so normal, you felt the slightest of tension drain from the air.

“Anyways,” he said. “I know we’re not friends anymore, but we’re going to be in this wedding together. You’re Sara’s maid of honor and I’m Yoongi’s best man. We’re probably going to cross paths at some point.”

“Maybe literally, if we’re forced to walk down the aisle together.”

Hoseok’s lips twitched. “This is serious, Y/N.”

“I know,” you said, smile disappearing. “You’re right, this is weird. But you’re also right – this isn’t about us. This is about Sara and Yoongi.”

“Exactly.” Hoseok nodded. “Which is why I think we should try and get along. You know, for the sake of the wedding.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you said. “Bloodshed never looks good in wedding photos.”

“It’d clash horribly with their color scheme.”

A snort escaped you. “No one wants that.”

“Okay, cool.” Hoseok paused. “So, it’s settled? We call a truce for the wedding.”

“For the wedding,” you agreed. “And then… after?”

“What about after?”

Hoseok seemed genuinely baffled, which made you want to sink through the floor. It was just having him here, bantering with him like you used to – you couldn’t help wondering why you were fighting. It didn’t make sense for Hoseok to ignore you like this.

It wasn’t as though you were still mad at him about last year. You weren’t holding a grudge about the way Hoseok had cut you out of his life, treating you as though two decades of friendship could be easily tossed aside.

Okay, maybe you were a little mad.

“I… don’t know,” you said at last. “Never mind.”

“Alright.” Hoseok hesitated. “Well … that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Okay.”

By this time, all the snow had melted in his hair. It made the strands look a bit damp, mussed by his scarf and you fought the sudden urge to smooth them down. His appearance annoyed you. Hoseok never took proper care of himself, yet he continually butted into your life and tried to fix all your problems.

Not wanting to stay any longer, you reached into your purse and pulled out a ten. Placing this on the counter, you turned away.

“Well. See you around,” you told Hoseok.

“I heard The Drop got cancelled.”

You froze.

Slowly, you turned back to see him. “What did you say?”

Hoseok had the nerve to look sympathetic, which you found to be maddening.

“I heard the show was cancelled,” he said, sliding his hands in his pockets. “It’s a shame, really. I liked it. Second season was even stronger than the first.”

Blinking, you found yourself taken aback. Hoseok had been your friend when the first season aired – he’d had nothing but good words to say about it at the time, but you didn’t know he’d watched the second. Obviously, the two of you had never discussed it.

“You did?” you said, tentative.

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah. I… could tell which parts you wrote, you know? It was cool. You always had the best lines.”

Warmth blossomed within you, even as you did your best to stamp it out. Of course, Hoseok could say a few words and thaw all your ice. He knew exactly which compliments meant the most to you and knew how to wield them. The direction with The Drop had always bothered you – some of the twists had felt stale – but Hoseok knew which lines you’d written. He’d liked the lines you wrote.

“Thanks,” you said, a tingle spreading down your spine.

Hoseok smiled. “So, what are you doing now?”

Equally fast, the warmth within you fizzled. Glancing at the board, you scrambled for something to tell him which wasn’t Roulette. Hoseok would hate the idea of you doing a reality TV show – he knew you; he knew your ambitions and he’d know this to be a step backwards.

“Well, I…”

“It’s also cool if you don’t have something lined up,” Hoseok said, far more astute than he had any right to be. “Life doesn’t always work out that way.”

“I know.”

“Of course.” His smile disappeared. “Well, I hope you like whatever you do next, then.”

You highly doubted this but forced yourself to smile. It didn’t make sense to burden Hoseok with your problems – it wasn’t as though you were friends anymore.

“Thanks,” you said quietly. “I hope you get that teaching job.”

“Thanks.”

Hoseok didn’t expand further and you shifted your weight, sensing you had nothing more to say. You’d exchanged pleasantries, set the stage for wedding interactions and somehow managed not to tear each other's heads off. That was a start, at least.

“Well,” you said, turning around again. It seemed Lana wasn’t coming back out. “I have to get going, but I’m glad we ran into each other.”

“Same.” Hoseok nodded. “I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before leaving.

Returning to your table, you began packing your things. Sliding your laptop into your bag, you buttoned your coat and grabbed your gloves. Too much had happened in the past hour for you to even consider continuing your screenplay.

Faltering in your movement, you wondered why you hadn’t mentioned that to Hoseok. He’d always used to read your scripts before you went to LA. Even when you worked for PBS, Hoseok was your first sounding board before you hired an editor. Tentatively, you wondered if he’d do that again for you.

There had been many nights in New York when he’d lounge on your couch, listening to you make up stories over copious glasses of wine. Silly stories, where Hoseok was a superhero with the ability to turn water into wine – and only that. Thinking about ways for lame, wine-drinking superhero Hoseok to save the day had been one of your favorite pastimes – one of his, too.

Shaking your head, you put on your hat. It would be weird to ask him to read. The two of you hadn’t spoken in nearly a year. Things would need to be warmer to ask him for a favor and in order for that to happen, you’d need to talk to Hoseok about what had happened.

As you left the shop, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Hoseok scrolling through his phone at the counter. He didn’t seem affected by your conversation, and you wondered if you were the only sentimental one between you.

Sighing lightly, you pulled your bag higher and walked out the door. You didn’t look back, so you didn’t see Hoseok glance up when you left, his gaze lingering.

Outside, you tugged your hat lower as you walked to your car. It had begun snowing while you were inside, forcing you to scrape newly formed ice on your windshield. As you entered the driver’s side, the car came to life and you remembered Hoseok’s comment about bloodshed not matching the wedding colors.

Stifling a snort, you backed out of your spot. It was hard not to slip into the same repertoire you once had. Just being around him made you feel more like yourself, made you remember times when you knew who you were and what you wanted from life. Lately, you’d been feeling so lost.

You could do this, though. You could navigate the holiday season intact and return to LA where you could work on pulling yourself together. You didn’t need to see Hoseok much more before leaving.

There was the neighborhood holiday party, and a few more outings related to Sara’s wedding. Heart sinking, you realized you were forgetting the most important event. Tomorrow was the holiday cookie baking championship – quite possibly the most anticipated event of the season.

Kim Namjoon and his family hosted every year, and things usually got competitive. You would obviously see Hoseok then, since he’d been one of the inaugural participants. This realization made your heart instantly sink.

The neighborhood holiday party was one thing – that party was for grown-ups, kids, and everyone in between. The holiday cookie baking championship was for you and your friend group. Attending with Hoseok would feel like old times, which could only serve to worsen the hurt.

With a sigh, you pulled out of the lot. It wouldn’t do to worry about that now. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

Still, you stopped at a grocery store on the way home to pick up some goods. Like hell were you going to be shown up by Hoseok on your own turf.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” Seokjin paused, frosting-covered spatula held before him like a microphone. “Friends and family, children of all ages – except that’s a lie. No children should be participating in today’s adults-only activities. They should all be in the basement watching Elf with Namjoon’s grandma. Anyways, NOW!” he said, lifting the spoon overhead. “Now, is the moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

“Is the moment the one where you stop talking?” said Taehyung, lounged by the fireplace.

Jungkook snorted. “Burn.”

“Wrong.” Seokjin leveled the spoon at them both. “Just for that, Taehyung, you only get the brown sprinkles from Halloween. Namjoon!” he cried. “Take note.”

Namjoon looked up, alarmed. “Take note of what?”

“Henceforth, Taehyung only gets the poop-colored sprinkles.”

Jungkook leaned over to Taehyung. “I’ll give you some of mine, bro.”

“Tight,” he said.

They fist-bumped.

Seokjin looked at the ceiling. “Anyways, where was I?”

“You were telling us the moment we’re waiting for,” said Hoseok, hip leaned against the counter. “We’re all waiting with bated breath.”

Namjoon snorted and you laughed, as Seokjin glowered in frustration.

“I expect this from the rest of these hooligans,” he said, shooting you a disappointed look. “But not you, Y/N.”

Weakly, you shrugged.

The annual holiday cookie competition was a longstanding tradition, hosted by the Kim house each year the weekend before Christmas. It had begun when your high school hosted a holiday bake sale and required each student to bring one kind of cookie to sell.

You’d all gathered at Namjoon’s to bake and somehow, this had turned into an annual tradition. Seokjin – who was competitive about the most mundane things – assigned ratings the second year, which led to Hoseok declaring revenge in year three. For two months, he’d practiced making madeleines, but Seokjin stubbornly declared him only second place.

Ever since then, the cookie making had become an out-and-out war. More people joined as word of the event spread. Jungkook and Taehyung became contestants during college, along with Sara. This added unforeseen stress to the proceedings, since neither one of them could bake. Taehyung set his cookies on fire his second year, leading to a famed three-year ban he constantly sought to erase.

Yoongi was the last person from your group to join, but this was just as well, since Yoongi was an actual chef. It was usually down to him and Seokjin to win the grand prize. You’d been the one absent most recently, choosing to stay in LA over the holidays the last year.

Despite this, it was nice to gather in Namjoon’s home again. His mom greeted you with the warmest of hugs, making you feel guilty you hadn’t been around sooner. For two years, you’d been so concentrated on work and your life in LA, you’d barely thought about what you were missing.

Last year when you hadn’t come home for Christmas, you’d made sure to visit at a different point in January. It meant you missed all the holiday traditions though, which were usually when you saw everyone else.

Seeing all your friends in one place sent a surge of warmth through you.

“The moment,” said Seokjin, pausing for emphasis.

“Will you just get on with it?” Yoongi groaned, seated beside Sara at the kitchen table.

“The annual holiday cookie baking championship has begun!” Seokjin cried. “Namjoon, ring the gong.”

Again, Namjoon looked baffled. “What gong?”

A tinny gong noise rang through the room, courtesy of Jungkook holding up his phone.

“Begin!” Seokjin said, brandishing his spoon like a sword.

Everyone began moving, standing from their chairs to fall into line. Namjoon and his mom had carefully pre-packaged cookie-making kits the night prior, although many contestants chose to bring their own tools.

You’d only bought decorative touches, so you joined the line, ending up at the back behind Namjoon’s sister. Pulling out your phone, you checked your email and frowned. Daisy had said she’d send over an offer, but nothing had come through. There still was time, but you’d imagined her to be one of those people who worked at lightning speed.

“Bored already?” said Hoseok, interrupting.

Startled, you glanced up. “What – no!” you said, returning your phone to your pocket. “Just checking my email. Nothing important.”

Hoseok arched a brow, clearly not believing you, but wisely choosing to remain silent as you moved up in line. Seokjin pressed play on his holiday music playlist, filling the kitchen with Mariah Carey’s holiday vocal runs.

“Got anything special planned this year?” Hoseok said, spotting your empty hands.

“Not really,” you said with a frown. “I stopped at the grocery store to get some decorations, but nothing as show-stopping as years past, I’m afraid.”

Hoseok made a tsk-ing noise with his teeth. “Hope you’re ready to lose, then.”

“Hey!” Despite yourself, you laughed. “I’ll have you know my cookies are based on substance, not flash.”

Hoseok shook his head sadly. “Flash is literally a category, though. Remember? Seokjin added it five years ago.”

“Oh, shit. He did, didn’t he?” You paused. “Damn, I guess it’s been a while.”

“I guess so.”

Hoseok fell silent as you took another step forward. Glancing around, you saw people already staking out their claims for baking. Seokjin had snagged the table by the stairs, Taehyung and Jungkook were in the kitchen and Yoongi rolled out utensils under the window. Yoongi never used the pre-made kits, choosing instead to bake from scratch every year.

Collecting your bag, you wound through the kitchen and came to a stop. There were only a few tables left, and only three chairs remaining. While you scanned the room, you saw Jungkook pull out a bag of cookie cutters shaped oddly like –

“Are those penises?” you said as Hoseok came to a stop alongside you.

Hoseok squinted at him with interest. “Huh, yeah. Guess so! Can’t imagine Mrs. Kim will rate those highly for style. Definite risk.”

Namjoon’s mom was one of the judges every year, having been roped in after Seokjin continually declared himself in the top three.

Shaking your head, you entered the living room and realized only one table was left. Hoseok followed suit, seeming to realize this at the same time. Awkwardly, he hovered while you set down your things.

“You can work here if you want,” you said, nodding at the open space.

Hoseok glanced at you in surprise. “Really?”

“Sure. I think we can be civil for an hour of baking cookies, don’t you?”

Hoseok’s lips twitched, setting down his things. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I seem to remember the year you threw a knife at Namjoon when he burnt your cookies.”

“Okay, I didn’t throw the knife. I accidentally dropped it.”

“While?”

“… While I was threatening to castrate him.”

Hoseok cracked up, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Even you couldn’t help but smile, arranging your supplies in the order you’d need them. In the corner of your eye, you saw Hoseok doing the same and for the first time, took in what he was wearing.

Hoseok was dressed in an emerald sweater and black jeans, along with those same Balenciaga sneakers. A few strands of dark hair hung over his forehead; brow furrowed while he worked on his layout. The sight made your stomach swoop.

Like always, you banished the feelings immediately. Hoseok was good-lucking and the sky was blue – neither one had anything to do with you. Back in high school, there’d been a period when Hoseok’s good looks would have been crippling to you. Hoseok had gone through puberty seemingly overnight. One day, he’d been your nerdy best friend and the next day, girls whispered about him whenever he walked past in the halls.

Jung Hoseok, with the infectious laugh. Jung Hoseok, with the devastatingly sharp profile. Jung Hoseok, who could effortlessly make someone feel special. Freshman year of high school, you’d had glasses, braces, and terrible acne while Hoseok had been the golden boy. It had been unthinkable for him to look at you like that, so in self-preservation, you’d learned to tune the emotion out.

Once you began dating Ren, you got over your crush on Hoseok. That was when you realized falling for someone else was only antidote in existence for your best friend. Hoseok was too charming for his own good – he caught people in his web without having to try. He could never know you’d once been in love with him. Honestly, you would never live such a thing down.

You’d tried distancing yourself from Hoseok even before Ren, but it hadn’t really worked – not even when Hoseok began dating Fiona. Fiona had been nice, or so you thought before she became jealous of your and Hoseok’s friendship and demanded he stop hanging out with you. Hoseok didn’t follow her instructions exactly, but your friendship definitely took a blow.

When you went to college and met Ren, you only drifted further until Hoseok broke up with Fiona due to long distance.

When you began to date Darren, things had felt safe but now you were single and all those same, unwanted feelings came rushing back. Hating how easily Hoseok did this to you, you fixed your gaze on the table and tried to trap the emotions.

It was hard not to notice how good Hoseok looked. He’d changed since you’d last seen him. Jaw sharper, shoulders broader, he filled out the sweater better than before. The slope of his nose remained unchanged, though – this had always been your favorite thing about him. Hoseok’s profile could bring people to their knees.

Of course, the idea of Hoseok on his knees made your face heat, so you hastily began measuring out the ingredients. Carefully reading the instructions, you dutifully followed the steps Mrs. Kim had laid out. You knew Mrs. Kim had been the one to write them, since Namjoon also couldn’t bake for shit.

“So,” you said, scooping flour into a bowl. “How’s the research going?”

Hoseok glanced your way. “I – uh, really good. I like it.”

“Always knew you’d save the world,” you said, echoing Lana’s statement.

Hoseok gave a small laugh. “Nice of you to have such faith. The world’s a pretty fucked up place.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Hoseok fell silent, measuring and mixing ingredients before him. Silence fell between you – a more comfortable kind than before and for a moment, it felt like old times again. Hoseok beside you, your friends laughing in the next room and Christmas cookies on the table.

After a few minutes, he looked up.

“Y/N,” Hoseok said. “Can I ask what really happened with –”

“Y/N,” Sara gasped, appearing at your elbow. “You have to come quick. Seokjin stole Jungkook’s penis cookie cutters and it’s about to be world war three in the kitchen!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, but laughed, nonetheless.

Glancing apologetically at Hoseok, you brushed off your hands and hurried after Sara. Inside the kitchen, Seokjin held Jungkook’s penis-shaped cookie cutters above his head in the air. Jungkook didn’t seem pleased in the slightest, rolling up his sleeves in a menacing matter. You’d seen them play-fight enough times to know the situation would end with something probably broken.

“Whoa – hey,” you blurted, stepping between them. “What’s going on?”

“Seokjin stole my things.” Jungkook pouted, crossing his arms.

Your head swiveled to Seokjin. “Care to comment?”

Seokjin sighed. “This is a holiday cookie baking competition,” he said. “Penises aren’t holiday inspired.”

“Not true!” Jungkook cried. “I was going to decorate them in red and white stripes, like candy canes. Holiday dick is a thing.”

“He’s right,” agreed Sara. “It’s a thing.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched. Seokjin seemed like he was seconds away from losing his shit though, so you shot Sara a look which said be quiet. Yoongi was laughing his head off somewhere in the back, utterly unhelpful.

“Since this is Namjoon’s house,” you said. “We should let him decide. Namjoon?”

Namjoon pretended to think. Shoving glasses higher up the bridge of his nose, he left a streak of flour behind.

“Hm,” he said thoughtfully. “As much as I’m inclined to agree with Jungkook – holiday dick is, indeed, a thing – my mom’s one of the judges. It’s a no-go.”

Jungkook groaned as Seokjin fist-pumped the air.

“Fine, fine.” Jungkook snatched the bag of cookie cutters from Seokjin. “I’ll make them normal – and boring. Far be it from me to ruin the holiday spirit!”

One crisis down, you relaxed and glanced at Sara’s cookies. They looked like unappetizing blobs, but Sara had a knack for making them taste good. Yoongi’s would be both, of course – beautiful in appearance and delicious to eat.

As you surveyed the kitchen, you felt that same sense of rightness within you. It had been too long since you’d last seen your friends. The aching loneliness you got in LA didn’t exist here. Dimly, you thought it’d be nice to somehow combine the two.

It was mostly your fault things were this way. Once you fought with Hoseok, your friend group had been forced to make separate group chats. People always forgot to give updates in both, so it usually ended up being a mishmash of miscommunication.

Without meaning to, you’d slowly drifted from your favorite people in the world. Out of sight, out of mind, as they said. Being home made you realize how much you’d missed them. It was easier to convince yourself you were fine when you lived in LA, surrounded by LA people, places and things.

The sound of your phone interrupted your train of thought. Pulling it from your pocket, you recognized an LA number and started.

“Excuse me,” you said, squeezing past Sara. “I have to take this.”

Heading out the side door and onto Namjoon’s patio, you exited the kitchen. It was cold outside and you shivered, but you didn’t expect to be out here for long. Breath frosting before you, you answered the call.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Darling!”

Daisy spoke in the same, too-bright falsetto which made you wince. “Hi – Daisy!” you said, attempting to smile. “So good to hear from you again.”

“Yes, of course – listen, Y/N, I’ll get right down to it.” Someone laughed in the background, and you wondered where Daisy was. “I wanted to tell you we’ve decided to go in a different direction.”

The air seemed to constrict and the holiday music, which had once seemed so cheerful, felt suddenly mocking. Staring straight ahead, you felt your grip tighten on your phone.

“I – what?” you breathed.

“Your interview was great, and we loved you, but we’ve decided to hire someone else.”

“I…” Trailing off, you shook your head. “You said I had the job, though?”

“Things change, darling. You know the industry.”

“But… we only spoke yesterday!”

“Yes, and things have changed since then. We had the most unbelievable interview this morning – you won’t believe their date ideas. So creative. Shocking!”

Something sallow and bitter curdled in your stomach. “Shocking, for a dating show?” you heard yourself say. “What could possibly be creative about that?”

“Ouch.” Daisy laughed. “Don’t be bitter because someone else’s ideas were better than yours. Well, I must get going. Wrap party, you know! Just wanted to call, so you knew not to wait for the email. Toodles!”

She hung up, leaving you alone on the patio.

Numbly, you lowered your arm to your side. It was still cold, and you knew you should head in but somehow couldn’t bring yourself to move. Staring at the darkness of Namjoon’s backyard, you fought back the rising tide of panic.

This had to be it – a new lowest of the low. A job you hadn’t even wanted but had decided to take because you needed money was reneging their offer.

Fingers trembling, you shoved both hands in your pockets and tried not to cry. Already, you felt the tears threatening to spill on your cheeks.

Everything had been so shitty lately. You’d barely been able to mourn your dream job before Darren had cheated. Just like that, your entire support system in LA had crumbled and you’d been left alone.

Eyes closed, you forced yourself to exhale. Maybe if you’d listened to Hoseok you wouldn’t be in this situation. He’d tried to warn you about Darren, and you’d pushed him aside. You hadn’t wanted to believe him – hadn’t wanted to bring that lie crashing down yet.

Darren had fit in with the life you’d envisioned for yourself. He’d fit with the new version of you, the version who wasn’t in love with her best friend and who hadn’t fled halfway across the country because she was escaping said feelings.

If you were being honest, your crush on Hoseok hadn’t ended in high school.

It returned after college, reemerging with a vengeance during the time you lived in New York. Hoseok and you were both single, the first time this had happened since high school. You’d fallen for him all over again – feelings he didn’t reciprocate, which partially led to your decision to move.

It wasn’t as though Darren had been the perfect boyfriend. You weren’t mourning him as the love of your life, or anything like that.

There had been times during your year and a half together when you weren’t happy at all. Darren had drunk a lot, oftentimes to excess and had often collapsed on the couch rather than make it to your bed. He was sweet when he wanted to be, but cruelly honest at other times.

In fact, when you first discovered he’d cheated, your immediate response had been shock, rather than hurt. The public manner of his split had been the worst part, not the actual cheating itself. You’d barely thought about Darren since you two had ended things, which seemed to beg the question of whether you’d loved him at all.

Shaken by the thought, you hugged yourself tighter and felt your lip start to tremble. Everyone inside seemed to have their shit together. They had friends, families and jobs they enjoyed. You’d given up the first two in order to have the last and now, you had nothing.

Without meaning to, a tear fell to your cheek.

At that moment, someone pulled open the sliding door to the patio. Frantically wiping the tear, you turned your head and saw Hoseok.

Hoseok froze, uncertain, the holiday music louder behind him.

“Hey,” you said, swallowing thickly. “I – what’s up?”

His gaze roamed your face. “Nothing,” he said at last. “I just hadn’t seen you in a while. Wanted to make sure you were okay.”

He was being nice, you thought, stomach plummeting. Nicer than you deserved, so you turned around and resumed looking at the forest. It was pitch black beyond the tree line, which seemed fitting for your current mentality.

“Oh,” you said dully. “That’s nice of you.”

Hoseok paused. “You’re not okay, are you?”

Weakly, you snorted. “What gave you that idea?”

Not choosing to respond to this, Hoseok stepped outside and shut the door. The glass muffled the music, making it seem as though you were in your own world. As Hoseok walked closer, the crunch of snow beneath his sneakers grew louder.

Hoseok came to a stop. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.”

He released a low laugh. “Come on, Y/N. I’ve known you since we were five. I think I know when you’re pretending not to cry.”

“Don’t do that,” you muttered, still facing the yard.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t pretend we’re friends again, all of a sudden.”

Hoseok was quiet for a moment. “I’m not,” he said. “I just… I can’t pretend not to know you, okay? I know we fought and haven’t talked in a while, but I can’t let you cry out here alone. I’m not an asshole, Y/N, no matter how much you want me to be.”

Of course, he wasn’t. You’d never thought he was but weren’t sure Hoseok would believe you if you said that. Hoseok was the most caring, selfless person you knew. He’d be standing out here even if you were his most bitter enemy, let alone someone he cared about.

Slowly, you turned. “Things aren’t… going as well as I let on.”

“No?”

“No. You know Darren broke up with me, right?”

Hoseok’s lips thinned in the darkness. “I saw the headlines, yeah.”

Closing your eyes, you sighed. “Did you hear what I said, though? Darren broke up with me. I didn’t even notice he… well.” You paused. “You warned me about him, I guess. And I did nothing about it. Who knows how much longer I would’ve stayed if he hadn’t done what he did.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing it happened, then.”

You opened your eyes to stare at the woods. “I think I loved him, at some point. I guess it didn’t matter in the end.”

“It mattered,” Hoseok said.

“Did it, though? I loved him, and he broke up with me. I gave up so much for him,” you said, gaze narrowing. “Coming here has made me realize how much, I guess. I tried so hard to fit in with his idea of the perfect girlfriend and now, I just feel… kind of stupid.”

“You’re definitely not stupid, Y/N.”

“No?” You glanced at him blankly. “You saw through him right away. Must’ve been nice to find out you were right, after all.”

Hoseok’s face tightened. “I would never be happy to hear that,” he said quietly. “I hoped I was wrong, Y/N. Of course, I did. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

“Then why’d you hurt me?” you said, turning to face him fully.

Hoseok’s eyes widened, wind whipping his hair.

“Why’d you hurt me?” you said, still holding back tears. “Why’d you cut me out of your life? Do you have any idea how much that hurt, Hobi?”

“I…” Hoseok faltered. “I didn’t… realize you felt that way.”

“Didn’t realize?” you whispered. “Hoseok, you were my best friend.”

Something unreadable crossed his expression, gone before it could fully be formed. Hoseok turned to look at the forest.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” you exhaled, breath frosting again. “Well.”

Hoseok was silent for a moment, staring at the tree line and then he glanced sideways. “Who was the phone call?”

Surprised, you looked over. “What?”

“The phone call,” he said, glancing at your hand. “Who called and upset you? You seemed fine inside, making cookies.”

You knew he was changing the subject, but you let him. Talking about the past seemed too real to face right now.

“Oh,” you said. “Well. The job hunt isn’t going as well as I said. I wrote a screenplay, but no one is interested. I also applied to a bunch of random shows, but nothing’s panned out. Oh – except,” you said bitterly. “Yesterday, I got an offer to write for this reality dating TV show.”

“You?” Hoseok arched a brow. “The professed self-hater of reality TV?”

“I guess that came out in my interview, since they retracted the offer. That was them calling to tell me.”

“Well, they’re idiots, then.”

“Or maybe they realized I’m a sinking ship and they should probably jump before my bad luck spreads to them.”

“Y/N,” he chastised.

“I know,” you sighed, some of the fight draining from you. “I guess it’s a good thing. I didn’t want that job anyways. But it’s just… it was my last option, you know? That was it, that was the bottom of the barrel and I couldn’t even get that. How pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic,” he insisted.

“No? Because I feel pretty pathetic right now.”

Hoseok was quiet a moment. He shifted his weight and then, out of nowhere he said, “I puked on my first day of student teaching.”

Your head whipped to him in surprise. “You – what?”

“I puked.” Hoseok nodded. “I was so nervous I’d say the wrong thing, I ran to the bathroom and hurled my guts out. I’ve never gotten stage fright, but something about teaching brought that out in me. I don’t know if that’s what I want to do with my doctorate.”

“I…” You stared at him wonderingly. “Why are you telling me this?”

Hoseok half-smiled. “You can want something a long time, and not have it end up being what you thought. It’s not a bad thing to change direction, Y/N.”

“That’s… true.”

“I’m not saying to stop applying,” he warned. “I think you should because you’re ridiculously talented and those west coast assholes are lucky to have you. Just… maybe apply to something different.”

“What do you think I should do, then?”

You waited, truly wanting to know his opinion. Hoseok had always been the one person who could make sense of your spirals. Something about him made you automatically respond.

Hoseok shrugged, the light from inside playing over his features.

“You said you wrote a screenplay?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He paused. “You should send it to me.”

Both your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, a hint of a smile to his lips. “I mean, I used to read your stuff before, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“Then it’s settled.” Hoseok nodded. “You’ll send me your screenplay and I’ll let you know what I think. Okay?”

“Alright,” you said slowly. “Maybe I will.”

Before he could respond, the sliding door opened again.

“There you are! They’re out here, guys!” Jungkook yelled, turning over his shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?” he said, returning to you. “It’s cold as balls out.”

Leaving the screen door wide open, he retreated to the kitchen. The holiday music was louder now, but slightly less mocking than before. When Hoseok met your gaze, you could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Want to head back in?” he said.

“Yeah,” you said, brushing him as you breezed past. “I heard it’s cold as balls out.”

Hoseok laughed as he followed, and you felt the smallest weight lift from your chest. You still didn’t feel like you had all the answers, but at least Hoseok didn’t seem like he hated you anymore. That was a step forward if nothing else.

As you entered the kitchen, some of your earlier despair seemed to lessen. Hoseok crossed the kitchen to Yoongi, grinning at something he said, and you felt another strange wave of sadness.

Just being with him made you feel better. Even with hard conversations, even with Hoseok telling honest truths, you never got the feeling he wanted to hurt you. It made you long for how things were before and not for the first time, you knew you’d made the wrong decision last year.

Choosing Daren over Hoseok had been the worst mistake of your life. Not because Darren had cheated or because things between you had ended, but because Hoseok meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life.

Maybe ever would.

The next morning you were awakened by a pillow thrown at your face.

“Get up loser,” Sara said from above. “We’re going shopping.”

Groaning at the bad Mean Girls reference, you rolled over. Sara laughed, throwing another pillow which lamely hit your back.

“Seriously,” she whined. “It’s ten in the morning and the cake tasting is at eleven. Unless you don’t want to come anymore…?”

Remembering today’s plans, you bolted upright in bed. Today was the one wedding planning event you really did want to attend – today, Sara was going to taste the cakes.

“No!” you blurted, throwing your covers aside. “I’m in! Just give me ten minutes!”

Sara laughed, retreating and closing the door to your room. Hurrying into your bathroom, you brushed your teeth, washed your face and made yourself presentable. As you entered the kitchen for breakfast, you found everyone seated around the table.

“Y/N!” Your dad grinned at the stove. “I’m making omelets again. Do you want one?”

Warily, you glanced at Sara, who nodded.

“Yep,” you said, heading for the coffee pot. “Sounds like a plan.”

Pouring yourself coffee, you inhaled the steam. Your dad’s omelets were always a risk because he tended to throw whatever he’d made for dinner the night before into the eggs. Sometimes this resulted in momentary brilliance – his crab cake and blue cheese omelet was a thing of legend. Sometimes though, things fell flat. The spaghetti omelet came to mind.

Once you were seated, your mom began to go over the plans for today. She wouldn’t be able to join the cake tasting but would meet you later at the invitation store.

Before long, you were being shoved out the door since Sara was suddenly concerned about Sunday morning traffic. You didn’t bother to point out Josen Falls didn’t have Sunday morning traffic. By now, you recognized signs of your sister’s stress enough to know when to be quiet.

As you entered the cake shop, you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. Ignoring this, you hurried inside and began to unwarp your scarf. Chimes jingled above the entrance, causing Paul to pop out of the back room.

Paul had owned the shop for what seemed like forever, ever since his dad had passed and he’d taken it over. His cakes were a thing of legend up and down the east coast.

“Sara!” He beamed. “And Y/N! What a surprise! Are you two ready for cake?”

“Hell yes,” Sara said, undoing her coat. “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks, Paul. Honestly, this is the main reason I’m getting married.”

Paul laughed, retreating behind the counter. “I won’t waste your time with pleasantries, then,” he said. “Let’s get right into it.”

Sara settled on a stool, patting the one beside her for you to follow suit. As you did, you remembered the buzz in your pocket and pulled out your phone. There was a notification on Instagram, which made you frown. Maybe Lord of the Rings airport guy had found you.

Opening the app, you saw the username and froze.

DarrenToLive had sent you a message. Reading his name, you felt the world tilt. It had been months since you’d last seen Darren in your inbox. You’d tentatively unblocked him on Twitter at the start of November and then, when nothing happened, unblocked him on everything else. It seemed Darren had realized this now.

As though your hand had a mind of its own, you clicked read.

DarrenToLive: hey, y/n… I saw on your story you went home for the holidays. How are things going?

Immediately, your gaze narrowed. The message blurred, a million thoughts racing through your mind. Darren had some nerve to reach out to you over Christmas – and while he had a girlfriend, no less. Because when you went to his profile and clicked on the first photo, it had been taken by Jessica Avec. Your jaw clenched.

Fingers hovering over the message, you debated whether to delete, block or cuss him out, but then Paul emerged from the back room holding a tray of cake.

“Alright!” Paul set the tray down. “We’ve got a lot to taste here.”

Slowly, you slid your phone back in your pocket. You could deal with Darren later, you decided. He was unworthy of your attention at the moment. Folding both hands on the table, you tried not to salivate at the treats before you.

“I went through your list, Sara,” he said with a nod. “And I think we’ve got some good options here. First up is almond cake, vanilla bean frosting and fresh raspberries. Second is chocolate fudge cake, chocolate crème brulee and salted caramel sauce. Next is pink berry cake, dark chocolate mousse and berry preserves. Last, a hazelnut cake with milk chocolate mousse and bittersweet ganache.”

“Oh,” said you and Sara in unison.

Paul laughed at your faces. “And of course, champagne,” he said, placing two glasses before you. “I won’t hover and make things weird, so feel free to taste and I’ll be back in a half hour. Keep in mind we have plenty of other cakes, too! This is your day!”

Sara stared at the tray, her eyes shining as Paul left.

“It’s just so beautiful,” she said, sounding a little choked up.

You laughed, placing a fork in her empty hand. “What are you waiting for? Dig in!”

Sara obeyed, pulling the plate towards her, and taking a large bite.

“Oh my god,” you moaned. “This is heaven.”

“It really is,” she happily agreed, hazelnut crumbs on her lips.

Reaching out, Sara took a sip of champagne and dug feverishly into the pink berry cake. You continued this way for a while, switching between cake and champagne until there were only crumbs left.

Leaning back, you surveyed the wreckage. “So?” you said, turning to Sara. “Which one is it?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed. “They’re all delicious. If I pick one, the rest will feel left out.”

“They’re cakes, Sara. They don’t have feelings.”

“Spoken like an emotionless rock.”

“Hey!” you said, swatting her forearm. “I have emotions, I’ll have you know. I was devastated I didn’t win the holiday cookie competition yesterday.”

Sara laughed. “Oh, please. You weren’t even listening by then. No one was except for Seokjin and Yoongi.”

“Well, that’s because they’re the only two real competitors every year.”

“Not true! There was that year Hoseok decided to take things seriously,” Sara said. “He almost won.”

“Wasn’t that the year Yoongi made pizzelles?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, so Hobi had no chance.”

Sara laughed again. “Alright, fair. Yoongi can’t help being blessed with so many skills.”

You mimed retching.

“Honestly! He’s good-looking, smart, clean, knows his way around the kitchen. Knows his way around other things, too.”

“Sara!” you yelped, shoving her shoulder. “I don’t want to hear about my little sister’s sex life, thanks.”

Giving you a devious grin, Sara returned to the cake. Taking another bite, she chewed thoughtfully around a mouthful of frosting.

“Did I see correctly last night, though?” she said, sounding curious. “Were you actually talking to Hoseok again?”

“I… not really, no.”

Sara gave you a look. “So, your mouth was just moving, and nothing was coming out?”

“We’ve decided to be cordial.” Blithely, you took a sip of champagne. “You know, for the sake of your wedding.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“It’s true!” you said. “I’m your maid of honor and Hoseok’s Yoongi’s best man. It would be weird if we just refused to talk.”

“I guess,” Sara said slowly. She sighed. “What happened there, anyways?”

“It’s… a long story.”

“You always say that.”

“Because it is,” you said, staring at your plate. “I don’t know. It was a lot of things, I guess. We’d started growing apart when I moved to LA. And then I began dating Darren… you know none of my boyfriends have ever liked how close I am to Hobi.”

“Well, that’s because all your past boyfriends were trash, Y/N.”

“They haven’t been – alright, fine,” you admitted. “They were trash. Anyways, Hoseok came to LA when I had just moved in with Darren and I, um… I hadn’t exactly told Hobi yet.”

Sara’s eyes widened. “Wait, seriously?”

“It had just happened!” you protested. “My roommates were shit, Hoseok knew that. When Darren suggested I move in with him, it just made sense.”

“So, why didn’t you tell Hobi?”

Falling silent, you stared into your glass of champagne. In all honesty, you had no answer to that. It’d always been hard to talk about your relationships with Hoseok. Maybe some messed up part of yourself still hoped he had feelings for you. Maybe the same, messed up part didn’t like the idea of Hoseok knowing you were really taken.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Every time I thought about telling him, I just couldn’t. I knew Hoseok wouldn’t like it.”

Sara nodded, picking at the crumbs on her plate. She so clearly wanted to say something, it almost made you laugh. Say what you wanted about your sister – she wasn’t subtle.

“What?” you said, arching a brow. “What is it you want to say?”

Sara hid a smile. “You know me too well. All I was thinking was…” Trailing off, she shook her head. “Maybe there’s a reason Hoseok’s never liked any of your exes.”

“Because they were assholes?”

“No – well, yeah,” Sara conceded. “But also, I don’t know. We always kind of thought you two would end up together.”

You froze.

“We?” you managed to squeak out. “Who’s we?”

“You know.” Sara waved a hand. “Me, Yoongi, Namjoon. A bunch of us actually. We always thought you were perfect together.”

“Me and… Hoseok.”

“Don’t play dumb,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You spent so much time together growing up! You were always holed up in your room, always inseparable at parties. It just seemed natural you’d start dating.”

“We were just friends, Sara.”

“Yeah. I guess I see that now.”

Returning to your plate, you pushed the cake around. Other people thinking you’d end up with Hoseok was news to you. You wondered if they saw something you didn’t. Even if they did though, they’d been proven wrong time and time again.

Hoseok had never felt that way about you, despite your on and off feelings for him over the years.

“Hoseok thought Darren was cheating on me,” you said quietly.

Sara looked up. “Oh, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, pushing your plate away. “That’s what led to our big fight. Things already weren’t great between us and when Hoseok visited, he suspected Darren of cheating. I took Darren’s side and Hoseok left the next day.”

“Y/N,” Sara said softly.

“I just… Hoseok was right, in the end.” Looking down, you swallowed. “Maybe he was back then, too. I should’ve listened to him, but I didn’t. And now I don’t know how to apologize. It’s been so long.”

“It has been a long time.”

“Too long,” you said, looking up. “How can I even start?”

Sara hesitated. “I’m not saying you shouldn’t apologize to him, Y/N – but isn’t there blame on his end, too? Sure, you fought, but he could’ve reached out as easily as you.”

“Maybe.”

“Not maybe,” said Sara, scooping up the last bite of cake. “Definitely. Look, you don’t need to be friends with Hoseok again. That’s not what I’m trying to say. It just… it was nice seeing you together again. That’s all.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“But look at me.” Sara straightened. “Going on about Hoseok when we have much more important things to discuss. Namely, are there any other cakes to try?”

“Paul did say he had more flavors in the back.”

“I feel like it would be a disservice to this establishment and to ourselves if we didn’t take full advantage of that offer. Paul!” she called, leaning over the counter. “You said something about other cakes?”

Paul laughed, disappearing to grab the next tray. Although you appreciated the change of subject, Sara’s words continued to run through your mind.

The idea of all your friends thinking you and Hoseok would be together was more shocking than it probably should’ve been. You couldn’t help but mull over this for the rest of the day, in the car ride home and throughout dinner that night.

Later, when you sat at your computer and stared at the screen, you made a sudden decision. Opening your email, you typed Hoseok’s name and sent him your screenplay. Pressing send, you shut the laptop and slid into bed.

It took you a while to fall asleep, staring at the little dipper above you.

Wedding planning was put on hold the next day, everyone’s attention shifting towards the holidays. With only two days left until Christmas Eve, it was time for the annual neighborhood holiday party.

The neighborhood holiday party had been a tradition ever since you were little – even before the holiday cookie competition caught on. It was formal attire, hosted by a different family in the neighborhood every year. This year the Jeons were the hosts, which was a good thing because they only lived a few blocks away.

On the drive over, you stared out the window and tried to silence the butterflies in your stomach. Seated in the middle seat, you felt like a high schooler again. It certainly didn’t help that, once again, you found your thoughts entirely consumed by Hoseok. Just like in high school.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what Sara had said, how everyone in your friend group thought you’d get together. Truthfully, you’d thought the same many times prior, but nothing had ever come to fruition. Sometimes it had been because of him – and sometimes because of you.

The last time had been because of you.

Before you left New York for LA, there had been a moment between you and Hoseok you’d done your best to forget. You’d been close at the time, always at one or the other’s apartments in between classes or work. Your job back then had been terrible, even worse than the PBS one after.

When you texted Hoseok on Friday you needed to work Sunday, he’d showed up at your door holding red wine and take-out. You spent yet another evening watching dumb movies and drinking, but this one had ended differently than the rest.

As the credits rolled on the movie and you finished your last glass of wine, you’d sighed and rolled over on top of the couch. Hoseok had been seated on the floor, legs splayed and leaning against the cushions.

When he turned to face you, he was mere inches away. You remember the muted light from the TV playing over his features, making your heart skip for a second.

The movie had been tense, which had caused Hoseok to run his fingers through his hair in frustration. As a result, the strands stuck up every which way, making you smile.

Hoseok had smiled in return. “What?” he’d said, a bit lower than usual.

“Nothing,” you’d laughed, making his smile widen.

“Seriously, what?”

“Nothing!”

Reaching out, you’d tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. Hoseok went still, staring at your hand resting near his cheek. You’d moved to retract this, but Hoseok had reached up and caught your hand in his.

You could still remember that feeling. That dizzy, pulse-pounding feeling of his hand in yours. You’d felt it at various points in your friendship, but never so clearly as lying on the couch, inches away from his lips with your hand in his.

Hoseok’s thumb lazily brushed your wrist, causing a warm jolt of pleasure to shoot to your core. His lips parted, as though to speak – and your phone had rung in your pocket.

Scrambling upright, the moment broke when you answered the call. Hoseok fell back, looking stunned and he made an excuse to leave after that. You hadn’t discussed it the next day and it wasn’t long after you announced your move to LA.

The two events weren’t necessarily connected – or maybe they were.

Now, even you were beginning to have doubts. After that night, you’d realized you were developing feelings for Hoseok again. Maybe a tiny part of you thought that by moving away you’d force yourself to move on.

As you approached the Jeon’s, you found those same butterflies emerging. You and Hoseok had never talked about that night. Maybe there had been something there, something he’d felt, and your act of self-preservation had simply been running away.

“Y/N,” your mom said, returning you to the present.

Startled, you looked up. “Yeah?”

She smiled in the rearview mirror. “We were just saying your Aunt called the other day to say she’d started watching The Drop. She loves it! Can’t wait for season three.”

“Oh,” you said, sinking lower. “That’s great.”

“I’ll admit,” your dad laughed. “We were kind of nervous when you said you were quitting your job to move to LA and start writing, but you’ve really made a name for yourself, Lucy. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Oh… good. Thanks, dad.”

“It’s nothing short of incredible!” added your mom.

You nodded, unable to respond as you looked out the window. Saying they’d been nervous was a bit of an understatement. Your parents had tried their best to dissuade you from moving to LA. They had meant well, but to your parents, the best career path was a stable one. Dreams were nice, but they mostly belonged between the pillow and sheets.

Just once, you wished your parents would say they were proud of you without needing an accomplishment attached. Of course, it was great to be successful and make money, but it was hard when it often felt like those were the only things valued by your family.

As your parents parked, you exhaled and unbuckled your seatbelt. Narrowly avoiding stepping in a snowbank, you followed your parents up the sidewalk and into the Jeon house. Their front door was open, holiday music spilling into the night.

Steeping inside, you unbuttoned your coat and glanced around. Jungkook’s parents were well-off, which showed in his mom’s Christmas decorations. Garland twined up every bannister, and you spotted no less than three Christmas trees from your place near the front door.

Hanging your coat up in their closet, you fought back a shiver as you turned around. You may have gone a bit overboard on the dress code, but it had been a long time since you’d wanted to look nice. For the two months following your break-up, you’d mostly wallowed and slept in your sweatpants.

In November, you’d started dating again, but it had only ended in disaster. One guy, after you had successfully dodged a goodbye kiss in his car, had the audacity to text you saying you’d left something. After you’d searched your things in a panic, thinking you’d dropped something in his car, he finally texted back ‘a kiss from me.’

You stopped going on blind dates after that. All this to say tonight was your first night dressing up in a while and you were determined to make it count. And if a certain someone happened to eat their heart? That would only be a benefit.

Smoothing the red velvet of your dress down, you glanced up and spotted Hoseok.

He stood in the kitchen, back to you, but you’d know his profile anywhere. He wore a purple suit which on anyone else would look tacky, but on him looked effortless. Trust Hoseok to show up in a jewel-toned suit and completely steal the night. When he turned, you saw his hair had been styled so that only a few pieces fell over his forehead.

When he saw you, he froze. The bowl of limes in his hands went forgotten as Hoseok’s gaze slowly traveled your frame. Each place he lingered caught fire, leaving embers in his wake when he finally met your gaze.

Before you could speak, the door opened again, and a cold breeze blew in. You shivered, jumping forward and the moment was broken.

Namjoon looked up while undoing his scarf. His jaw dropped. “Y/N!” he said with a whistle. “You look ridiculously good tonight.”

“Just tonight?” you joked, squeezing Namjoon around the waist when he hugged you.

By the time you turned around to face Hoseok, he was already gone.

“And all other nights,” said Namjoon, wrestling free from his coat. “But especially this one. You look like you’re here to break hearts, which doesn’t seem like the best use of Christmas spirit.”

“No?” you said, linking arms to travel into the kitchen. “Pity.”

As you entered, you realized with some disappointment Hoseok had left for the next room. The look on his face had reminded you of senior Prom, when you’d exited the limo and Hoseok had stammered something about how you looked like an angel. You’d brushed it aside but secretly, had daydreamed about it for months.

Jungkook’s mom stood near the stove, removing a tray of appetizers. She waved with her oven mitt, which you returned with a smile. Namjoon didn’t allow you to linger though, pulling you into the family room.

“We’re here!” he called.

This seemed to be the room people your age had claimed. Your parents disappeared into the dining room, all kids went to the basement and you landed in the family room with other quasi-adults.

“Y/N!” Sara called, already perched on Yoongi’s lap.

“How did you get there so fast?” you wondered aloud – only to choke, realizing Yoongi had worn a red suit and Santa hat.

“Ridiculous, isn’t it?” said Seokjin, appearing alongside you. “Since only one person is allowed to sit on Santa’s lap.”

Laughing, you shook your head as you turned. “It’s something I would’ve expected from you, honestly,” you said.

“It crossed my mind,” Seokjin admitted. “But then Yoongi and I did rock, paper scissors and I lost.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Seokjin walked with you across the room to stand before Jungkook’s makeshift bar. Jungkook wore a holiday sweater which consisted of a t-rex chasing two gingerbread men across the front.

Only one other person stood before you in line. When Seokjin saw Mrs. Haberdash, he grinned and pulled you into his side.

“Stop trying to sext me!” he said loudly, ensuring she heard. “I don’t need this right now!”

Mrs. Haberdash turned around and froze, then mumbled something about being needed in the next room before she scurried off. Rolling your eyes, you took a step forward.

“I don’t think that was necessary,” you said to Seokjin, although you were laughing. “She hasn’t said anything since the party about my being single.”

“Oh, well.” He shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Drink order?” said Jungkook, shaking a cocktail shaker in each hand. “We’ve got everything! Gingerbread mules, candy cane cosmos, rum punch... you name it, I’ll make it.”

“I didn’t know you could bartend,” you commented, spotting the bowl of limes Hoseok had carried behind the table.

“I can’t.” Jungkook shrugged. “My motto is – the drunker you are, the less you’ll care about how the drink tastes.”

You stared at him a moment. “Yeah, I’ll have wine.”

Namjoon laughed, waiting while Jungkook poured you a glass. It didn’t take long for the rest of your friend group to arrive. Taking a seat on the couch beside Seokjin, you entertained a conversation about whether The Witcher TV series was great cinematography or merely a guilty pleasure.

Around your second glass of wine, Taehyung bounded in from the kitchen to announce a holiday drinking game. Turning on the Hallmark Channel, he taped a large poster board to the wall – “When did you make that?” said Hoseok, appalled – and began to explain the rules.

“Rule number one!” Taehyung tapped the board. “If a character’s name is related to Christmas, you drink. I’m talking Noelle, I’m talking Holly, I’m talking Kris, Tinsel – yes, there was once a character named Tinsel. If any of those names appear, you drink. Rule number two! You spot mistletoe, you drink.”

Jungkook groaned, settling cross-legged on the floor. “We’re all going to be wasted.”

“Yes,” Taehyung agreed.

“Hopefully, it makes your drinks taste better,” said Seokjin from the couch.

Jungkook held up his middle finger.

“Jungkook!” scolded his mom, walking past the door.

Embarrassed, Jungkook put his finger back down. His ears turned bright red, much to the laughter of everyone else in the room.

“Right, anyways,” Taehyung said. “Here’s a new rule that I just made up on the spot – whoever isn’t paying attention to the movie and is the last person to drink has to take two sips.”

Laughter ensued, but once the movie began, you realized Taehyung had been serious. He and Jungkook dubbed themselves the Christmas Patrol and traveled around the room to ensure the rules were being followed.

This resulted in Seokjin tackling Jungkook midway through the movie, insisting he had not been the last person to drink when a magical deal was struck with an angel. They nearly knocked over your glass of wine and so, extricating yourself from the sofa, you told Namjoon you needed to use the bathroom.

Hoseok had stayed away ever since your arrival. He’d barely said anything besides a brief wave and hello. You wanted to ask him if he’d gotten your screenplay but didn’t want to pry. If Hoseok had read it, he would’ve told you already. Likely, he was busy with other holiday things.

As you entered the kitchen, you paused at the window. Thinking about your screenplay made you think of the other night, when Hoseok had checked on you at Namjoon’s and you’d completely broken down. He had just been trying to be nice and you’d completely embarrassed yourself, going on about Darren and how difficult work was.

You needed to remind yourself you weren’t friends anymore. Hoseok couldn’t be there for you the same way he used to be, and you shouldn’t expect that. Releasing a breath, you set your wine glass on the counter.

“Y/N?”

Whirling, you found Hoseok on the threshold. He’d wandered into the kitchen, a stack of dirty plates in one hand.

“Oh – hey, Hoseok,” you said.

He nodded, walking past to set the dishes down in the sink. Turning around, Hoseok wiped his hands on a tea towel. He glanced at the wine glass you’d set on the counter.

“Didn’t want to chance one of Jeon’s holiday drinks?”

You managed a smile. “Didn’t want to risk it.”

Hoseok nodded, silence falling between you, but he still didn’t leave. Glancing past him, you wondered if you’d ever get over this terrible awkwardness. There were so many things you wanted to say but didn’t think were appropriate.

You needed to be careful because it would be too easy to fall back in love with him. Once those floodgates were opened, you weren’t sure how to close them. It was easier to linger in this half-state, where you weren’t really friends, but Hoseok didn’t hate you, either.

“I read your screenplay,” Hoseok said.

Startled, your gaze moved to his. “All of it?”

“Well, you only sent me the first episode,” Hoseok said with a smile. “But yeah, all of it.”

“And? What did you think?”

Hoseok paused.

“Oh, no,” you groaned, leaning against the counter.

You’d known Hoseok long enough to know his pauses were never good. Hoseok was a careful speaker when he gave criticism – excruciatingly honest, but he took the time to say what he meant; no more and no less.

Hoseok laughed. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

“No, but I know you,” you said with a shake of your head. “When you don’t love something, you pause before deciding how best to crush my spirit. Go on, then. Get on with it.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes. “I don’t purposefully crush your spirit.”

“Just an unintended side effect, then.”

“Do you want to hear what I have to say, or no?”

You mimed zipping your lips. “Yes, please. Continue.”

Hoseok paused again, and you hid your smile. For a few seconds, it had felt like you were friends again. This used to be your routine whenever Hoseok read something of yours – his hesitation before he critiqued, your endless moaning and Hoseok asking if you wanted him to stop.

“I liked it a lot.”

“Liar.”

“Let me finish!” Hoseok laughed.

“Alright, alright,” you said, holding up both hands.

“I did like it,” Hoseok said, fixing you with a glare. “It was bright, smart and full of hilarious one-liners. The friend group was relatable and fun. It’s just… the main character.”

“Jaimie? What about her?”

“She’s…” Hoseok hesitated. “She’s just unlikable.”

“What!” you blurted. “What’s unlikeable about her?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “She’s too perfect. It’s too hard to relate. She’s got everything under control, you know? Who wants to watch a show about a person so perfect they make you feel like an idiot in comparison?”

You closed your mouth, realizing it had fallen open. “That’s not… she has flaws!”

“Name one.” Hoseok arched a brow. “And overly clumsy, or having unruly hair aren’t flaws.”

Your lips twitched. “Damn.”

“I meant everything else, though,” said Hoseok. “I really do like the premise. And the friend group is hilarious but real, you know? They’re not trying too hard. I just think the lead could be more realistic. People like that, you know. They like it when a person has flaws.”

“Oh, please,” you said with a sigh. “People always say that, but they’re so quick to turn on a character the second they do something wrong.”

“I still think it’s better to show someone relatable,” Hoseok argued. “Someone who’s real. Someone who keeps trying, even when they’ve messed up.”

He’d moved closer during the course of his speech, close enough for you to smell his shampoo. It wasn’t the same one he’d used back in high school. It was odd, the things you remembered about the past. You could recall the smell of Hoseok’s high school shampoo with vivid clarity but didn’t remember the last time Darren had made you smile.

“Someone who keeps trying,” you said, tracing over his features. “Is that really what you think, Hobi?”

A shadow crossed over his face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Because.” Looking away, you set your jaw. If you didn’t ask him now, you never would. “Why… didn’t you call me back, then?”

“What?”

“I called you,” you whispered, barely audible. “So many times after you left. I kept calling you and trying to talk, but you just ignored me. Why, Hobi?”

He swallowed at the nickname. “I… Y/N…”

“That’s not an answer,” you said, finally looking at him.

All your frustration finally rose to the surface. Sara’s words came back to you with sudden clarity – yes, there was blame on your end, but there was also on his. You hadn’t told anyone this, but you’d called him so many times after he’d left for New York. You’d tried to patch things up and Hoseok hadn’t let you.

“We’ve had fights before, but nothing like this,” you accused. “A year, Hobi. It’s been a year since I’ve seen you. That’s not a fight! That’s you deciding we shouldn’t be friends and that hurt, Hoseok. It fucking hurt.”

“I decided not to be friends with you?” he demanded, eyes flashing.

Gone was the sunny, cool Hoseok of earlier and in his place stood a stranger. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen Hoseok this mad. Maybe the day you’d fought in the bar.

“Yeah,” you said.

“That’s rich,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “Considering you’d stopped confiding in me long before I visited you in LA. I didn’t even know where you lived! I didn’t know you’d moved in with your boyfriend. You refusing to listen about Darren was just… the last straw.”

“The last straw?” You laughed, but it wasn’t a nice sound. “You’re acting like I was a difficult child, or something. You were my friend, Hoseok. My best friend! And the second things got difficult between us, you ran.”

“It wasn’t only that night,” Hoseok snapped.

He was inches away now, the air between you so thick with tension, hurt and something unknown. He looked so good and you were so angry – it all swirled in your chest, becoming the perfect storm.

“Then, what was it?” you demanded.

His gaze darted towards your lips. “I – I had to put distance between us, Y/N. It was better that way. Healthier.”

“Healthier?”

“Yeah.”

“So, what are you saying? I was toxic to you, or something?”

“No,” Hoseok groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “God, Y/N, no. What I’m saying is I –”

“Y/N?”

Both your gazes shot towards the door, finding Sara hovering over the threshold. She glanced between you and Hoseok, and you realized belatedly how little space there was between you. Hoseok’s chest practically touched yours, his lips inches away from your own.

Dizzily, you exhaled and willed your heartbeat to slow.

“Yeah?” you said, trying to clear your head. “What is it?”

Exhaling slowly, Hoseok took a step backwards.

Looking as though she wished she were anywhere else, Sara glanced at her phone. “Um,” she said, lifting it up. “I just wanted to tell you Darren is calling…”

Confused, you stared at her a moment until it sunk in.

Darren – your ex-boyfriend – was calling your little sister. Brow furrowed, you attempted to make heads or tails of this news. It made about as much sense as her barging in to say yellow snow had been declared a health supplement by the FDA.

“I – Darren?” you said, puzzled.

“Yeah.” Sara shrugged. “I didn’t recognize the number, so I answered and that’s what he said. He said you never responded to his last text and he got worried. Honestly, I didn’t even know he had my number.”

Slowly, you closed your eyes.

You’d decided not to respond to the Instagram message the other day, re-blocking him from all your social media. This was a gross invasion of privacy to reach out to Sara like this. Dimly, you recalled giving him Sara’s number the time you lost your phone in case of an emergency.

Before you could speak, Hoseok let out a soft laugh. “Of course,” he said quietly. “You’re texting him still?”

Your eyes flew open. “Hoseok, no, I –”

“Yeah, okay,” he said roughly, brushing past you to walk down the hall.

You stared at his back, too stunned to move. Everything Hoseok said about needing distance came back to you. He said your break-up wasn’t just about the last fight you’d had. Questions began to burn in your mind, but aside from that you felt angry.

After everything you’d told him, after everything you’d confessed about Darren, Hoseok still thought you’d gone crawling back.

Suddenly livid, you pushed yourself off the counter. As you passed Sara, you paused. “Block him,” you said. “I didn’t answer him earlier, so I definitely don’t want to answer him now.”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “You got it, sis.”

You walked past, catching Hoseok at the door as he pulled on his coat. Grabbing him by the elbow, you turned him sideways to face you.

“Hey,” you said. “What the fuck?”

Hoseok stared at you, bewildered. “What?”

“Why did you leave?” you demanded, gesturing at the kitchen. “We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Hoseok glanced in the direction you pointed. “I think the conversation was over.”

“It was not over.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N.” Hoseok rubbed his temples. “We always do this. We’re best friends until you date someone and then – poof! You’re gone. That’s why I didn’t call,” he said, teeth gritted. “It was easier not to be friends with you while you were dating.”

“Okay, but I’m not with Darren anymore!”

“Who was just calling you, then?”

“That’s not – that was a coincidence!”

“Right.” Jaw tight, Hoseok looked away. “Look, Y/N. You can date whoever you want, but you deserve better than that guy. You deserve someone who looks at you and sees someone real, not just whatever they can get from your career.”

“What’s that… that’s not what I had with Darren,” you said, reeling a little.

Hoseok returned to you. “Maybe not. Maybe he really did love you, but he never deserved you, Y/N. None of them have ever deserved you.”

“What do you even care, anyways?” you said hotly.

Hoseok went still. In the background, you could hear distant laughter and holiday music but, in that moment, all you could hear was the beating of your own heart.

Eventually, he shook his head. “If you don’t know that by now,” Hoseok murmured. “Then I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Finishing buttoning his coat, Hoseok opened the door. He paused for a moment, snowflakes drifting past as he glanced back to see you.

His expression softened a little. “You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he said, and then he was gone.

You were left staring at a closed door, a chill in your veins which had nothing to do with outside.

Wandering inside, you poured a glass of wine some might call ‘obscenely full.’ What you really wanted to do was leave, but your parents had been the ones who’d driven and were, unfortunately, your only way home.

Besides, it would only hurt more to go home alone and cry in your bed. Instead, you forced yourself to stay and seated yourself on the couch beside Seokjin. He shot you a concerned look, but you shrugged it aside and took a deep sip of your drink.

Ignoring your phone, you tried to focus on the drinking game you were playing. Hoseok’s words continued to occupy your thoughts though, making you wonder what he had meant.

If you don’t know that by now, then I guess it doesn’t matter.

That’s all he’d said, as maddeningly unclear as he usually was. You wanted to find him and shake him, to clarify what he meant. Of course, it mattered. It mattered what Hoseok thought because he was the only person you ever thought about.

That was twice now you’d asked why he’d cut you out, only to receive a vague answer. It had hurt you – you hadn’t been lying about that. Compared to your break-up with Darren, losing Hoseok had been far worse.

It had hurt so bad in the months after, you’d briefly lost your mind and last October, you’d flown out to New York to see him.

You had never told Hoseok that, but you did. It had been two months since he’d left in LA and you were growing desperate, trying and failing to get him to return your calls. At the last minute, you’d booked a plane flight, hopped in a cab from LaGuardia and shown up at his apartment – just in time to catch Hoseok coming home from a date.

You had stood there on the sidewalk, duffle bag slung over one shoulder while he laughed at something his date said. Vision blurring, you could still recall the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You had remained long after they went inside, then hailed a cab to the airport and flew home that night.

On your way, you’d realized Hoseok had been right. Possibly, your time as friends had come to an end because you were acting insane. It was insane to fly across the country on a moment’s notice. It was insane to feel this wicked, burning jealousy each time you saw him with someone else.

Deep down, you knew something was wrong. It was wrong to have feelings for Hoseok while you were dating Darren and so, you hadn’t contacted Hoseok again after that. You’d cut him out of your life the same way he did to you – only yours hadn’t worked out, because here you were.

Eyes shut, you leaned back on the sofa. Even now, you heard Hoseok’s critique in your mind. He’d called your main character too perfect, not flawed enough. Hoseok had always been the one who said your flaws were okay. Growing up, he’d been the one who encouraged you to be messy, to make mistakes and fail if you wanted.

Opening your eyes, you felt the raw pain of missing him hit you again. It was even worse now because last time, you’d assumed Hoseok had left because of Darren. Now, you knew he’d left because of you. Hoseok didn’t want you anymore.

As the night came to an end, your emotions hovered close to a breaking point. You stood in the foyer, smiling bleakly while you thanked the Jeons. They disappeared inside, leaving you and your family to pull on your coats.

Gently, Sara leaned over to touch your arm. “Is everything okay?” she murmured.

Dimly, you realized you hadn’t touched base after Darren called her.

“Yeah,” you said, then paused. “And no.”

She gave you a sympathetic look. “I saw you talking with Hobi. What happened? It looked as though you’d been fighting.”

“A little,” you said, giving a weak smile. “Long overdue, I guess. He made some good points. I’ve been… caught up in things lately.”

“Yeah, but –”

“Y/N!” your mom interrupted, pulling on gloves. “You know who I spoke to tonight? The Donoghue’s! Their son is thinking of moving to LA, so I told them you’d reach out. I thought it might be nice, since you’ve done so well for yourself out there.”

Any other night, you would have smiled and nodded. The Donoghue son was probably nice, but right then, you found yourself at a breaking point. Everything for the past year had been piling on and suddenly, the frayed knot in you snapped.

“That’s not a good idea,” you snapped.

Your mom stopped, looking at you in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not doing well,” you blurted out. “I’m barely hanging on, and LA is terrible. My boyfriend cheated on me, I’m about to be jobless and every major studio keeps rejecting my spec script. Everything is falling apart, and I can barely keep it together anymore!”

Eyes wide, your dad stared with his fingers stilled on his zipper. Sara froze as well, one arm in her pea coat.

“Y/N?” your dad asked, sounding tentative. “What’s going on?”

“I was about to say the same thing,” said your mom, a bit stiff. “Why don’t we have this conversation in the car?”

“Oh, sure,” you said, giving a bitter laugh. “Because it’s embarrassing to talk about my problems in public, right? It would be terrible if the neighbors heard I’m struggling. Well, I’m done pretending everything is okay.”

“Now, Y/N,” your dad started, but you cut in.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to come home for the holidays,” you huffed. “I didn’t want to pretend I was fine for two weeks. Didn’t want to pretend to be perfect. Because that’s the only daughter you want, right?”

Both of your parents stared as, tears brimming, you pushed open the door.

“I’ll be in the car,” you muttered and walked outside.

Sara was the first one to move, pulling on her coat and hurrying after. Your parents soon followed, keeping a wary distance between you while entering the car.

Most of the way home, you stared out the window. At some point, Sara reached out to squeeze your knee. Sara had always been the oddball of the family. The only one for whom emotions came easy, the only one well-equipped enough to have the tough conversations. Everyone else pushed things aside, shoving them down until they blew up in their face.

It seemed your problems were large enough now to blow up.

When you parked, you made to exit the car, but your mom cleared her throat. She looked over the front seat and, to your surprise, you saw tears in her eyes.

“Y/N.” She exhaled. “We never… we never wanted you to feel like you had to be perfect. Or like you couldn’t tell us things. Of course, we’ll always have our opinions, and they might not be what you want to hear – wait, let me finish,” she said, seeing your face. “We want what’s best for you and we don’t want you to struggle. Like you’re doing now. That doesn’t mean if you are struggling though, we won’t love and support you. I’m so, so sorry you thought that.”

Now, you were the one who had tears in their eyes.

“She’s right,” said your dad. “Of course, we’re proud of what you’ve done. But we’re also proud of you for taking risks, for not being afraid and going after what you want. We’re just as proud of you now as we were before. Maybe more so.”

“Oh no,” you mumbled, wiping your cheek.

“Yeah, oh no,” said Sara, also tearing up.

Snorting, you turned to laugh at her through your tears.

“You and your sister,” said your dad with a meaningful glance at Sara.

“You know I can’t handle emotional speeches!” said Sara, blowing her nose on her sleeve.

“We love you both,” said your mom with a faint smile. “I’m sorry if we don’t say that enough.”

Opening your door, you got out and hugged your mom tightly. Walking into the house, you began to relax for the first time in ages. Telling your parents was such a massive weight lifted from your chest.

You hugged your dad as well, burying your face in his coat. Your parents loved to tell the story of the first time you saw fireworks. You had been a toddler, mad at your dad for some reason when the first rocket had launched. Terrified, you’d immediately forgotten your anger and scrambled into his arms. There, you’d hidden until the fireworks had subsided.

You were no longer a child, but you couldn’t help wanting that shelter sometimes. People always said when you grew up, you’d need your parents less and maybe this was true, but it didn’t mean you stopped needing them entirely.

When you finally went upstairs, you found you couldn’t sleep. Lying on your back, you stared at the constellations and both your words and Hoseok’s continued to run through your mind.

Sitting up, you turned on the light and pulled out your laptop. Frowning at your screenplay, you opened a new document and slowly exhaled.

Leaning forward, you began to write.

For the next day and a half, you were lost in your work. Despite it being the day before Christmas Eve, there really wasn’t anywhere for you to be. Once you told your parents you were writing, they left you alone, making themselves scarce on the main floor of the house.

Locked in your bedroom, you made mug after mug of hot chocolate and slowly tore down the block in your mind. Something Hoseok had said set a fire beneath you. Your main character was unlikeable and unflawed. You could change that – you could write someone inherently flawed and still somehow likeable.

As you began the new script, a familiar world bloomed in your mind. At the top of the screenplay, you wrote Untitled: An Unlikely Superhero Story. The main character’s name was changed from Hoseok to Carlos, but you kept most of the story the same.

Carlos was a college student in his senior year. He came from a long line of famed superheroes but somehow, the genes seemed to have skipped over him. The only power Carlos had inherited was the power to turn water to wine. Very biblical, and a fun party trick, but not exactly the crème of the crop.

That is, until disaster strikes the country, and Carlos is the only available superhero to stop a new super-villain.

Head bent to your keyboard, you lost yourself in the new story. You added yourself without thinking, as Carlos’ best friend, Raya. Ray is hopelessly in love with Carlos and everyone around them knows except him.

Unlike with your prior screenplay, the words seemed to flow from somewhere deep within. While you were writing, you no longer found yourself concerned about whether people would like Carlos and Raya. Instead, you simply focused on the story you had to tell.

You were so busy writing you almost didn’t hear the soft knock at your door. Continuing to type, you wrote several more lines before someone said your name.

“Y/N?”

Glancing up, you realized Yoongi stood at your threshold. Surprised to see him without Sara, you dropped your hands from the keys and sat back.

“Yoongi!” you said, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Yoongi nodded and glanced about your room. It had been a while since he’d last been here. He and Hoseok became friends during college and by then, you’d mostly moved out of your parents’ house. Still, Yoongi and Hoseok had hung out with you on breaks, so the room wasn’t unfamiliar.

“Sure.” Yoongi glanced at your laptop. “You seemed pretty invested in what you were doing.”

“Writing my screenplay,” you said, and then paused. “I thought of something I wanted to change, and things kind of spiraled.”

“That’s good.” He nodded. “I hope your writing goes well.”

You waited, but he said nothing more and after a moment, you glanced at the screen. You didn’t want to be rude, but you were kind of on a roll. If Yoongi wanted to talk about wedding plans, Sara was right downstairs.

“Is that… all?” you asked. It wasn’t like Yoongi to interrupt you for nothing.

After a moment, he sighed and glanced down the hall. Downstairs, you could hear a Christmas movie playing. He was probably in the middle of watching it with Sara. Somewhat uneasily, Yoongi looked back.

“That’s not all,” he admitted.

“Is it… do you want to come in, or something?”

Yoongi considered. “I saw you talking to Hoseok in the kitchen last night.”

Uncertain, you froze. It seemed your argument with Hoseok had been less private than you’d thought.

Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Oh? I’m sorry if we were being loud… I didn’t mean to interrupt the movie, or anything.”

His upper lip twitched. “You didn’t. I went to the bathroom and heard you two arguing.”

“Oh. Right.”

Yoongi sighed. “I really shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking to you about any of this.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” you said. “I have no idea what ‘any of this’ is, so it’s almost like we’re not talking at all.”

“What did you and Hobi fight about?”

You paused. “I… that’s kind of personal, Yoongi.”

Folding his arms, Yoongi leaned a shoulder against your door. He didn’t look away, which made you feel oddly on display.

“What’d you say to him?” he asked.

Immediately, you bristled. “Why does everyone assume I said something?”

“Because you tend to be the more clueless one.”

“I am not clueless,” you sputtered.

Yoongi gave you a look. “Well, what’d you fight about then?”

“I – I don’t know. A lot of things,” you said, falling back in your chair. “I got mad at him for cutting me out last year and he kept saying things were better this way.”

“What way?”

“I don’t know,” you said, frustrated. “A way where we’re not friends, I guess.”

“Well. Were you ever really friends to begin with?”

Startled, your eyes widened. “Of course, we were!”

“Y/N.” Yoongi stepped forward. “Think back. Really think. Why did all of your past boyfriends hate Hoseok so much?”

“I… I don’t know. Toxic masculinity? Guys always are threatened by male-female friendships.”

“It’s because Hobi was in love with you,” Yoongi said bluntly. “Always has been. He’s been in love with you for so fucking long and all your boyfriends knew it. Hell, everyone’s known it but you.”

Although you opened and closed your mouth, no noise came out.

Staring at Yoongi, the room started to spin. What he said made no sense. Hoseok couldn’t be in love with you. He couldn’t be in love with you because you would’ve known. Somehow, you would’ve known. He had been your best friend for nearly two decades. There was no way you would’ve missed something important like that.

“Hobi…” you managed to say. “Hoseok is in love with me?”

Seeing your expression, Yoongi softened. “I don’t know about love, present tense,” he corrected. “I know it destroyed him when you left New York. When you first told him about Darren, I think it finally scared Hoseok into doing something. He was coming to confess to you that weekend, you know.”

“He was what?”

“He was coming to confess,” Yoongi repeated. “He wanted to tell you he loved you, but you picked him up from the airport and said you’d moved in with Darren.”

“I – no,” you said, horrified.

Something like pity entered his gaze. “Yeah. He’d kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but you’ve both been idiots for so long. You’re not even speaking to each other, which is just stupid.”

“But…” Dizzily, you shook your head. “Why are you saying this, then? You don’t even know if Hoseok feels the same way.”

“Please.” Yoongi scoffed. “Hoseok might be your best friend, but he’s also mine. I saw the way he looked at you at my engagement party. Hell, I saw the way you looked at him.”

“How… did I look at him?”

Yoongi paused. “Like you’d come home.”

Swallowing hard, you looked away. You had no words left to say because Yoongi was right – Hoseok was home. He meant more to you than anyone ever had in your life, more than anyone ever would, and you were a fool for thinking this could be friendship.

There was a reason you’d wanted to skip an entire season rather than see Hoseok again. Why losing Hoseok had hurt worse than losing Darren; why seeing Hoseok last week had instantly crumbled your defenses, and a phone call from Darren could easily be dismissed.

You loved Hoseok. You always had.

“If you don’t love him,” Yoongi continued. “I honestly have no idea what’s going on. Haven’t you ever wondered why neither one of your relationships last?”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled. “We keep picking crappy people?”

“True.” He raised a brow. “But maybe the reason you keep picking crappy people is because you both know you’re right for each other but are too cowardly to say anything. It’s easier to say nothing and keep being friends than risk losing each other completely.”

You stared at Yoongi over your laptop. “Let’s say that’s true. Let’s say Hoseok used to love me. Why are you telling me this now?”

Yoongi hesitated. “You’re both clinging to the past so desperately, I don’t think either of you see what’s in front of your noses. Hoseok went after you last time. I think it’s about time you knew and decided what to do next.”

“And what if you’re right?” you said softly. “What if the idea of losing him is too much to bear?”

“Well, that’s the thing.” Yoongi gave a sad smile. “You don’t really have him right now, do you?”

With that, he turned to leave your room. Halfway into the hall, he paused. “Hope the rewrite goes well,” Yoongi said, then disappeared.

You stared at the empty door frame for a long time after that.

Letting the influx of emotions you felt after Yoongi’s visit fuel you, you finished writing around 3:00 AM Christmas Eve. Falling asleep in the light of your laptop, you awoke groggily around 4:00 AM and moved to your bed to continue.

Your alarm went off early and for a moment, you thought you were under attack and nearly fell out of bed. Then you remembered that, in a moment of stupidity, you’d done this to yourself. Wearily rolling from bed, you padded into the bathroom and washed your face.

Around 8:00 AM, you pulled on your coat and rushed out the door, yelling to your dad you needed to borrow the car. Luckily, he was fine with this and soon you were seated in the car on your way to Kinko’s. It was the only copy place open on Christmas Eve, which you sorely needed since your dad’s printer was broken.

After printing out your screenplay, you drove all the way to Hoseok’s and parked at the curb. Here, you took several deep breaths and stared at his house.

It was as familiar to you as your own. There had been a point back in high school when you may have spent more time here than at your own house. You’d even had sleepovers because, to quote your mom, ‘it was only Hoseok.’

This thought made your cheeks heat because he had been anything but ‘only Hoseok.’ You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about him that way in high school. You had often thought about Hoseok naked, and then immediately felt guilty because he was supposed to be your best friend.

If what Yoongi said was true though, you were the biggest pair of idiots because you’d liked Hoseok at the same time Hoseok had liked you. You’d both wasted so much time, love and energy on other people.

Removing the key from your ignition, you pushed open the door and promptly stepped in a snowdrift. Groaning out loud, you glanced down. Shaking your shoe free of snow, you limped awkwardly up Hoseok’s driveway. Shoe squelching, you muttered some choice words about snow and where it could shove its puffy, white ass.

“… Y/N?”

Startled, you whirled and saw Hoseok emerging from his garage, snow shovel in hand. He stared at you in confusion, having seemingly overheard everything you just said. When he realized you were limping, his gaze dropped to your foot.

“Oh.” Hoseok paused. “Sorry. I hadn’t shoved yet.”

“Hi. It’s okay,” you said, air frosting before you.

Hoseok nodded but didn’t add on and you felt suddenly nervous. This was Hoseok standing before you. It was Hoseok and yet, it wasn’t, because your Hoseok was completely untouchable. Your Hoseok was your ex-best friend, your childhood crush, and the man you were desperately, unrequitedly in love with.

This Hoseok – the one who maybe loved you back – was a stranger.

Remembering why you’d come, you tucked the papers under one arm and hurried forward. Hoseok was wearing a red puffer jacket which matched his cold cheeks. Coming to a stop, you fought the sudden nausea within you.

“Hey,” you repeated.

Hoseok stared at you, a little bewildered. He seemed like he didn’t understand why you were here, and you wilted a little, remembering how you’d left things at the holiday party.

“Why are you here?” Hoseok asked, echoing your thoughts.

“I wanted to give you this.”

Awkward, you thrust out both hands with the papers. Hoseok stared blankly at the pages, then looked at you.

“What is it?” he asked.

“It’s my screenplay,” you said. “Well, my new screenplay. I came up with a different idea after we talked.”

Despite himself, a glimmer of curiosity entered his gaze. Hoseok glanced once more at the pages. “And why are you giving it to me?”

“Because I want you to read it,” you said.

Hoseok’s gaze flicked to yours. “I don’t think you really want my opinion, Y/N.”

“I do, though.”

Something uncertain seemed to enter his gaze the longer he looked at you. “Y/N…” Hoseok said lowly. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be friends.”

“Hoseok… please,” you said quietly. “Please read it. Just this once?”

Hoseok looked at you another moment, then nodded and took the papers. Your hands touched for the briefest of moments and you felt your heart skip, but then he pulled back and the cold settled in.

No matter how much you wanted to blurt what Yoongi had said, you stopped yourself. This was what you’d decided sometime around midnight. It would be cheating to simply relay to Hoseok how Yoongi had said he felt. You needed to show him in your own way what he meant to you.

Hence, the screenplay and ungodly hour.

Hoseok looked at the papers, then back at you. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll try to read this sometimes this week, okay?”

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Okay.”

That was all you could hope for, really. One thing was for certain – your friendship couldn’t continue the way it currently was. Something needed to change, one way or the other.

After another look, you nodded and turned towards your car. Sliding into the seat, you cranked up the heat and pulled from the curb. You tried not to look in the rearview mirror but failed as soon as you reached the stop sign. Glancing up, you saw Hoseok turn the papers over in hand.

Then you turned the corner and he disappeared.

Christmas Eve was fairly typical in your house.

Christmas Day was the main event; you usually spent this at your grandma’s house. All your aunts, uncles and cousins would gather, and you’d spend the day drinking mimosas and unwrapping gifts by the fireplace.

There was tons of cooking to do, so your mom usually went over the night before to help. Usually you, your dad and Sara watched Christmas movies at home but this year, Sara was spending Christmas Eve at Yoongi’s. Your dad had volunteered to help your mom cook, which left you alone in the house for the evening.

You’d been invited to your grandma’s place, of course, but it was a halfhearted invitation, and you knew it. Your grandma was nothing if not a perfectionist and had zero patience for your brand of burnt toast. Besides, someone needed to make sure the Christmas lights were turned on.

In this way, you found yourself alone on Christmas Eve. Weirdly, this didn’t upset you at all. Wrapping yourself in your fuzziest blanket, you made yourself a cup of hot chocolate and settled in to watch the Grinch. Everyone else in your family refused to watch with you because you could quote every line by heart – and often did.

You tried not to think about Hoseok but kept coming up short. Every few minutes, a memory would drift to the surface and you’d wonder if he’d read your screenplay yet, if he’d understood what you’d meant and if he had any thoughts.

Frown deepening, you turned up the volume and tried to drown out your thoughts. It was Christmas Eve, and you had the entire place to yourself. You’d be damned if you let Hoseok –

A knock sounded at your front door.

Pressing pause, you sat up and listened. Someone knocked again and, setting down your mug, you stood to pad down the hall. It was around 7:30 PM, but you weren’t expecting either your parents or Sara back until 11:00 PM, which meant it had to be someone else.

Maybe a neighbor. It wouldn’t be the first time a strand of lights had come loose from your roof and landed on someone’s lawn. Halfway to the door, the person knocked a third time, and you noticed a shadow on your doorstep.

“Coming!” you yelled. In your haste, you’d nearly forgotten about the blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “Hang on!”

Undoing the lock, you opened the front door to find Hoseok before you. He stood on your porch, clutching your papers and looking indignant.

“What is this?” he demanded, thrusting them forward.

You stared at him in alarm. “Um. My new screenplay?”

“Right.” Hoseok paused. “Let’s start there. This person – Carlos. Is he based on me?”

“I…” Suddenly hesitant, you tugged on the blanket. “A little. Maybe.”

“Okay. And his best friend – Raya,” Hoseok said. “Who’s that?”

Awkward, you shifted your weight to your other foot.

This was what you’d intended by giving him the screenplay. You’d wanted Hoseok to understand how deeply you felt about him, how much you’d missed having him in your life. Hoseok had always been a superhero to you, even if he didn’t know it.

“She’s…” Helpless, you looked at Hoseok. “She’s Carlos’ best friend.”

Hoseok stared at you a moment. “Alright.” Looking down, he flipped through pages until he found the one he sought. A page scrawled with your handwriting. “And what about this?” Hoseok demanded, turning it around. “What’s this?”

Slightly cross-eyed, you read your own writing.

To the only person who’s ever seen the real me. Here’s how I see you.

Swallowing hard, you looked up. “It’s dedicated to you,” you said, a bit hoarse.

Slowly, Hoseok lowered the page.

Something uncertain entered his gaze, as though he didn’t dare to believe what you said. The idea of this made you want to laugh – the idea of Hoseok not understanding how you felt for him. He was so indescribably out of your league and somehow, he thought you didn’t want him.

“Alright.” Hoseok spoke quietly, taking a step forward. “I’m going to ask this again, at the risk of sounding like an absolute idiot. Who’s Raya, Y/N?”

He was inside now, across your threshold and still, you fought back a shiver. Mistaking this for cold, Hoseok turned and shut the door. In the warm glow of your hallway, he turned back, his cheeks red with cold.

“Me,” you whispered, gathering all your courage. “She’s me, Hobi.”

Hoseok seemed to stop breathing.

“I didn’t know how else to explain,” you said in a rush. “I just… Hobi, do you know why I didn’t want to come home for Christmas?”

Mutely, he shook his head.

“I didn’t want to see you,” you confessed. “I could barely hold things together in LA, where I had my own life which didn’t involve you. Coming home and seeing you, knowing you weren’t mine and not being able to do anything about it? I couldn’t stand the idea,” you admitted. “I just couldn’t.”

Hoseok paused, and then said, “You were with Darren, though. You loved him.”

“Maybe,” you said softly. “Or maybe he was someone I could keep at arms-length. Someone who couldn’t really hurt me. Do you know how I felt after he cheated?”

“I – I don’t.”

Roughly, you exhaled. “I was hurt. But more than that, I was embarrassed. I was embarrassed I’d stayed with him for as long as I had. What does that say about how fucked up that relationship was? When you love someone, you care about what they do. You care if they love you back, or not. You… you want to cross entire countries just to say how you feel,” you said, all in one breath.

Hoseok’s eyes widened. “I – how did you…? Yoongi,” he breathed as he realized.

For a second Hoseok looked so livid, you nearly smiled.

“Don’t hurt him,” you said, stepping closer. “He’s the only reason I’m telling you any of this. I had no idea… I mean, you were certainly no help.”

“I was no help?” Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Do you have any idea how many times I tried to tell you?”

“I’m guessing zero,” you scoffed. “Seeing as I never realized what you were trying to say.”

Hoseok looked at you a moment, still wearing that giant, red puffer jacket. It reminded you of one he had in high school, one he saved up all winter to buy. He lost it that spring at a party – the same one you had your first kiss at. That night was also known as the first time Hoseok got drunk.

“The first time I tried to tell you I loved you, I was eleven,” Hoseok said softly. “It was the first time you slept over at my house and you fell asleep playing mario kart. You looked so pretty, even though you drooled on my pillow. I whispered I love you.”

“You… you told me you loved me when I was asleep?” you said, stunned.

Hoseok’s upper lip twitched. “The next time, we were fourteen. You got food poisoning at Wild Fun Land and I spent that night holding your hair over the toilet. After a really gross bout, you looked up and mumbled, ‘Hey, Hobi. Can you call Sara and tell her I won’t be home for dinner? Tell her… something came up.’ Then you looked at the toilet, wiggled your brows and I lost it. I told you I loved you, but I don’t think you understood.”

You realized then your mouth was hanging open, but somehow couldn’t find the strength to close it. You also remembered that day, but Hoseok was right, you’d thought he meant it in a friend way, not in a real I love you way.

“You… you tried to confess after I made a vomit pun?” you squeaked.

“The third time,” Hoseok continued, as though you’d said nothing. “We were both sixteen. It was that time Jungkook convinced everyone to go camping. We were the last ones outside, star-gazing in that field and you told me you loved the little dipper. You said you loved the idea of something guiding you home. I said–”

“You said I was that to you,” you whispered, remembering.

A strange, fluttery feeling began to take flight in your stomach. You remembered that night, too. You’d been deeply in love with Hoseok at the time but lacked the courage to tell him. His words that night had sustained you for weeks, but when you’d returned and nothing happened, you’d slowly lost hope.

“Then there was prom,” Hoseok said, stepping closer. “That was the last time I tried to tell you – for a while, at least. Do you remember? Your asshole date made out with someone else on the floor, and I found you crying in the family restroom. Do you remember what I said to you?”

“You said you hoped his eyebrows fell off.”

“After that.”

“You said,” you whispered, suddenly parched. “You said it didn’t matter what my date thought, since I’d always have someone who thought I was the most beautiful girl in the room.”

“Me,” Hoseok said quietly.

Staring at him, you wondered how you could have ever been so stupid. When he said it like that, it all fell into place, but you remembered being so confused at the time.

“That was the last time?”

Hoseok hesitated. “When you began dating Ren, I tried to keep my distance. I tried to move on, but then we were together in New York… I don’t know. I realized I’d never stopped loving you. I didn’t know how to stop loving you.”

“So, you came to LA,” you murmured.

He nodded. “The night we almost kissed haunted me for months. I wanted to say something so badly, but then you said you were moving… I figured it was a sign. But then you left, and my feelings wouldn’t go away. I needed to tell you, or I’d never move on.”

“But I’d moved in with Darren.”

Hoseok’s jaw tightened. “I… I couldn’t handle being friends with you like that,” he said quietly. “I was in love with you and it was killing me. I needed to try and get over you. The only way I could think to do that was to cut you out of my life.”

“It makes sense,” you whispered, even as your heart lodged in your throat. “Did you know I came to see you?”

Hoseok’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Last October. I missed you so badly, I flew to New York. I don’t even know what I meant to say, but then I got to your place and saw you coming back from a date. I – I realized you were right. We couldn’t be friends.”

He looked at you quizzically and you buried your face in your hands.

Slowly, you shook your head side to side. “It sounds so stupid now that I’m saying it out loud. God, how did I not realize? I loved you, Hobi. I loved you so much and it was all right there! I hated all your girlfriends. Not because they were stupid – although they were – but because I couldn’t stand the idea of you being anyone else.”

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok said, gently taking your hands in his.

He lowered them to your sides, waiting until you looked up. When you met his gaze, you tentatively traced over his face in a way you hadn’t before.

He was so beautiful.

You’d always thought this but hadn’t let yourself linger because it hurt too much to see him. It was dizzying to look at him now, to have him so near and know you were allowed. Hoseok wanted this as much as you did.

“So.” Hoseok still hadn’t let go of your hands. “If I’m Carlos and you’re Raya, does that mean…”

“I love you, Hoseok,” you said without skipping a beat.

Happiness bloomed in his gaze. You’d said it during your rambles, but this time felt different. This time felt real – a moment in the present and not a regret from the past. Hands slipping to your cheeks, Hoseok thumbed your skin before he lowered his head to yours.

His lips were cold at first, warming as they moved against you. His hands slid into your hair, repositioning your mouth to deepen the kiss. Slowly, he walked the two of you backwards, letting your hips hit the wall as the blanket fell from your shoulders. Your head started spinning when you pulled him closer, clutching his waist and opening your mouth.

Grinning into his lips, you reached for his jacket to try and unzip him. The puffiness was getting in the way and you wanted to feel him against you. Hoseok obeyed, refusing to stop kissing as his right hand found yours, tugging down the zipper.

When his coat hit the floor, you realized he was dressed in a dark suit and button-down. His head bent, determined to pick up where you’d left off, but you pushed him back.

“Hang on,” you said, sweeping him with your gaze. “Holy shit.”

Hoseok paused, breathing hard. “What?”

“You’re wearing a suit.”

“Yeah.” He looked at you, bewildered. “I came straight from mass.”

“Hm.” You cocked your head. “I should probably talk to my therapist about why I find that hot.”

Hoseok chuckled and leaned in. Rather than kiss you, he pressed your hips to the wall and rested his hand by your head. Slowly, his gaze trailed your frame.

“I… Hoseok,” you said, heart beating faster. “I’m wearing pajamas.”

You were. They were matching flannel – short sleeves and short-shorts, but still hopelessly Christmas-y and endlessly dorky. Your sister had insisted you wear them on Christmas Eve, so you could wake up in them tomorrow morning.

Hoseok’s gaze glinted. “Mhm. What’s your point?”

“Stop… stop looking at me like that,” you said, a bit breathless.

His gaze flicked to yours. “Like what?”

“Like…” You swallowed. “Like you’re undressing me in your mind, or something.”

Hoseok grinned.

“Stop,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder.

He didn’t move. Instead, Hoseok lowered a finger to your clavicle and slowly dragged down. Equally gently, he undid a button. The top of your pajama shirt parted and Hoseok exhaled.

“Fuck,” he muttered, hand curling on the wall. “You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined seeing you naked.”

His voice made you shiver, pressing closer when his arm slid around your waist. Hoseok swallowed and lowered to kiss you again. His lips were softer, more tentative and you found yourself melting. Arms finding his neck, you pulled him even closer to feel him flush against you.

“So.” Hoseok pulled back, kissing the corner of your lips. “I hate to say something which might break the mood, but…”

“Yeah?”

“Your parents aren’t home, are they?”

Snorting, you buried your face in his neck. Hoseok smelled good, like citrus and linen. After breathing him in for a second, you looked up to see him.

“No,” you told him. “No one will be back for hours.”

“Good.”

Without further preamble, Hoseok resumed kissing you. You lost yourself in the feel of his hands, the touch of his lips and the delicious way Hoseok tasted. Sucking on his lower lip, you nibbled a little before you pulled back. Hoseok groaned, thumb stroking your neck as you opened your mouth.

Your hands slid under his suit jacket, trying to pull him even closer. Hoseok undid another button on your top to leave it half-open.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking down.

“Hobi.” You pushed your hips to his. “Take it all the way off.”

Sharply, he looked up and his jaw clenched. “Are you trying to kill me?” he said, sliding a finger down your chest. Hovering over your breastbone, he awaited further instruction.

Watching him, you reached up and undid the final two buttons. Inhaling, Hoseok pushed off your top until it fell to the floor. You were left standing in only your shorts, which had ridden up in a somewhat obscene manner.

Hoseok wet his lips.

“Hobi,” you groaned. He looked up. “Touch me.”

“God.” He slid both hands up your ribcage. “You are, aren’t you? You’re trying to kill me.”

Palms cupping your breasts, Hoseok flicked over each nipple. He stared appreciatively as they hardened, aroused by his touch.

“You had this bikini,” he said suddenly, looking up. “A white string bikini you wore to the pool senior year. Every guy in our grade loved that bikini,” he confessed, dipping his head. “We all used to pray the AC would be on, because then your nipples would be crystal fucking clear.”

“Hey!” you blurted, losing all train of thought when Hoseok’s lips closed around a nipple. “Oh,” you said breathlessly, head hitting the wall.

Hoseok continued, merciless as his tongue swept upward. He teasingly brought one to a peak, then the other, flicking the first with his thumb.

God, you were wet – so fucking wet, you were surprised Hoseok couldn’t tell as you ground on his leg. Hoseok had wedged his thigh between yours, giving you the perfect seat while he played with your breasts.

“H-hobi,” you whimpered.

Lifting his head, Hoseok smirked. There was something about seeing him fully clothed while you ground on his leg which set off a needy, primal part of you.

“We should go upstairs,” you said, glancing past him.

Hoseok went still. “Yeah?” he asked, his gaze searching yours.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “I need you. Now.”

Without another word, Hoseok grabbed your wrist and made for the stairs. You laughed when he pulled you along, remembering to scoop your top from the ground as you went. Slapping his ass, you followed his lead and Hoseok paused on the landing to press you to the wall.

Beneath your terrible middle school photos, he kissed you, unable to keep from smiling.

“No more,” you whined, pulling back. “I want to see you naked.”

Hoseok snorted but followed you down the hall and into your bedroom. You walked inside but he paused, choosing to linger on the threshold instead.

“Fuck.” Hoseok glanced around. “I can’t believe you’re inviting me up to your room. Sixteen-year-old me is reaching through the time continuum to give me a high five.”

Taking a seat on your bed, you threw the shirt to the ground. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“What are you talking about?” you said, baffled. “You’ve been in my room plenty of times.”

His eyes gleamed as he walked closer. “It’s not the same,” Hoseok said, beginning to undo his belt. His jacket, then his pants found their way to the floor. “Do you know how many times I jacked off to the idea of you touching yourself in this room?”

“Oh,” you whispered, a bit breathless.

Without breaking his gaze, you slid the shorts from your waist and pushed them to the ground. Now, you were entirely naked. Spreading yourself on the sheets, you let Hoseok see you. Normally, you weren’t this aggressive in bed. Normally, you went along with whatever your partner wanted, but this was Hoseok. You needed him to know how badly you wanted him.

Eyes widening, Hoseok undid his shirt. As soon as this was gone, you sucked in a breath. Hoseok was gorgeous. You’d known this of course, but his body was all lithe muscles and golden skin. His hips had an indent you loved – you saw this only briefly before he unzipped his pants.

Still looking at you, he lowered them to the floor, and you forgot how to breathe for a minute. You forgot everything but the sight of Hoseok standing naked before you.

Walking towards the bed, he lowered a knee to the mattress and slowly pushed you back. Your lips met as you inhaled, pulling him closer, grabbing a hold of whatever you could. There was so much to see, so much to touch – hands trembling, they slid down the broad panes of his back. Hoseok’s legs nestled between yours, your arousal getting all over his thighs.

Mouth opening, his tongue swept forward as you whimpered his name. Lowering you to your back, Hoseok kissed slowly down your front to close over a breast. Sucking into his mouth, his hips rolled against yours.

Gasping, your pelvis rocked forward, feeling his cock at your thigh. You needed him inside you so badly. Needed his length, his fingers, his mouth – it didn’t matter.

“Please, Hoseok,” you said, pulling up on his shoulders until he kissed you again.

“This isn’t fair,” he protested.

“What isn’t?”

“You.” He pulled back to sit on his heels. With one hand, Hoseok fisted his cock and stared at your dripping cunt. “We’ve been making out for ten minutes and already, my balls feel so tight, I’m going to come the second I get inside you.” His eyes widened. “I mean. If that’s… I don’t want to assume…”

Melting a little, you reached up and pulled him down to your chest. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you nudged his cock with your center. This had to be the wettest you’d ever been in your life.

“You feel that?” you whispered, biting his ear.

Hoseok shuddered, fighting to keep still.

“That’s me saying I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Inhaling sharply, Hoseok reached down and slid a finger into your cunt. You groaned, clenching as you fell back on the bed. Hoseok pulled his finger back out, closing his mouth around the digit to suck it clean. Eyes closed, he exhaled.

“Mm.” He opened his eyes, dark with arousal. “God, I can’t wait to make your legs shake. Lick your whole pussy clean while you ride my face.”

Unwittingly, your eyes widened. “Hobi!”

Grin wicked, he leaned to cage you with his arms. “Yeah?”

“You…” Your face felt like it was on fire. “I’ve just… never heard you talk like that before.”

“Did you like it?” he murmured, brushing your neck with his lips.

“Yeah,” you said, arching upwards. “Tell me what else you want to do to me.”

Reaching down, Hoseok slid his finger back inside you. Sinking in deeper, he made wet, squelching sounds as he slowly fucked you. His thumb began rubbing your clit.

“Well first,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you like this – looking at you. Watching you come.”

You shuddered when he added a second finger, working you open. Hoseok curled his fingers in a forward gesture, brushing a spot deep inside you which made you moan.

“I wish we were somewhere else,” he said, adding a third finger. “I wish we had all the time in the world so I could do everything I have in mind. Eat your pussy like the meal it is. Lie back and let you ride my face. Have you hanging off the bed while I fuck your throat.”

“Shit,” you breathed, eyes slightly glazed.

Glancing down, Hoseok saw your arousal dripping around his hand. He smirked. “You like that, huh?” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Want me to fuck your throat, baby?”

“Yes,” you groaned, head thrown back on the bed.

He made a noise partway to a growl, then abruptly pulled out his fingers. You gasped, clenching hard around nothing while you looked at him in dismay.

“I was so close,” you groaned. “Hobi!”

“I know,” he said, returning to rubbing your clit. “I know, but fuck – I can’t wait any longer to be inside you. I need to know what your pussy feels like around me.”

“Oh,” you exhaled. “Okay.”

Hoseok’s lips found yours, moving slowly as he thrust between your legs to get his cock wet. Each time he slid past your pussy, you whimpered and Hoseok grinned, pulling back.

“Hoseok,” you said through gritted teeth. “I swear to god, if you don’t –”

He laughed. “Okay, okay,” he agreed and pushed his tip inside you.

Immediately, he froze.

“What?” you said, searching his face.

“Shit,” Hoseok cursed.

“What?” you whimpered, genuinely distressed at feeling him so close but not inside you. If he didn’t move – and soon – you might cry or come.

“Condom,” he blurted. “I didn’t grab one before coming here. Do you have one?”

Stomach sinking, you shook your head.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Hoseok hung his head. “I’m sorry, baby. We don’t have to–”

“I’m clean,” you said, and he froze. “I got tested after the breakup and I haven’t been with anyone since. I’m on the pill, too. So…”

Slowly, Hoseok looked up. “You want me to fuck you… raw?”

“If you want…”

You said this, uncertain because Hoseok had the oddest look on his face, as though your words physically pained him.

“Fuck, yes I want,” he whispered. “I’m clean, too. I promise. Got tested last month.”

“Okay,” you said, slipping your arms around him. “I trust you, Hobi.”

Gaze melting, Hoseok nodded and bent to kiss you again. With each roll of his hips, he worked his cock deeper. Lips parted, you groaned and enjoyed the feeling of him filling you. Hoseok moved slow, rubbing your clit with his thumb the entire way.

Somewhat dazed, you imagined what it would’ve been like to lose your virginity to Hoseok. It probably would’ve been much more pleasurable than the way it actually happened.

Finally, Hoseok exhaled as he bottomed out. Lowering himself to his elbows, he gave an experimental roll of his hips.

“Oh,” you whispered, clutching him closer.

Hoseok’s eyes shone in the darkness above you. “What’re you thinking?”

“I’m thinking… how nice it would’ve been to lose my virginity to you.”

His jaw clenched. “You can’t just… fucking say things like that, Y/N.”

“Why not? You said way dirtier things to me earlier.”

“This is different, though,” he argued. “I actually could’ve been that person. I’ll never forgive the asshole who made you bleed.”

Heat rose to your face. “I should never have told you that.”

Hoseok shifted on top of you, causing his cock to go deeper. “No,” he exhaled, gaze roaming your face. “I’m glad you told me. I’ll just try and erase that experience from memory.”

Before you could ask what that meant, Hoseok thrust his hips forward. Your lips parted as he filled you, gasping a little as your hands found his back. Slower, he pulled out and pushed back inside. Spread out underneath him, Hoseok kept you at his mercy with each roll of his hips.

His cock was – oh my god, you’d never felt anything like this. Each toe-curling thrust of his hips had you biting back moans. You’d had sex, but you didn’t think you’d ever been fucked like this. Like Hoseok knew what he was doing and wanted to make you come – needed to make you come. Already, you felt yourself tightening, unable to withstand the steady thrust of his cock.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok said, trying to see you. “Slower?”

“No. I – I’m gonna come soon.”

“Oh?” He paused. “Already?”

“Stop it,” you groaned. “Who knew you were a fucking god amongst mortals?”

When you looked up, he smirked and slid his palms to your thighs. “Hold these open for me,” he said, thrusting in slow, shallow strokes.

You obliged, holding your thighs open so he could see you fully.

“Fuck.” Hoseok’s breath hitched a little. “About to come and I haven’t even done this.” Dragging his knuckles to either side of your clit, he squeezed and made you gasp. “Or this,” he added, moving to cup your breasts.

Tugging your nipples between fingers, he deftly pulled down and made you moan. Hoseok did this again before letting go, lowering himself to his forearms with a wicked smile.

“But baby already wants to come,” he said, kissing you softly. “This gorgeous pussy just wants to come on my cock. Is that right?”

“I can’t decide if I want to slap you,” you groaned, chest heaving. “Or tell you – fuck yes, it does.”

Hoseok’s gaze narrowed. “Shit. Both sound good to me.”

You moaned again, and this time Hoseok had pity on you. Hand sliding between you, he began to fuck faster and roll your clit with his thumb.

“That’s it,” he grunted, hips slamming against you. “Such a good girl, about to come so hard on my cock. Relax, baby. Let me take care of it,” he said, moving faster.

He began to fuck harder, deeper and everything within you tightened to a breaking point. Everything was too much, so sensitive – whimpering his name, you shuddered apart. A fresh wave of arousal soaked the sheets and Hoseok went still, hips faltering against yours.

Dazed, you managed to open your eyes. You wanted to tell him to keep going. You wanted to tell him to come inside you, but before you could utter a word, you saw Hoseok’s face.

“Oh,” you said, wincing as you looked down. “Sorry. I squirt sometimes – is that weird?”

Hoseok stared at you like he’d won the fucking lottery. “Is it – weird?” he breathed. “Weird? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/N.” Gaze glinting, he pushed your thighs upwards and onto your chest. “Wanna see if I can do it again.”

You nodded, trembling – and then gasped when Hoseok let go for real.

Back arching, you moaned as he began to fuck you. Hoseok moved hard and fast, his cock pounding relentlessly into your needy pussy. You could barely catch your breath but somehow, this just made you want it more. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it as you tightened around him.

He seemed determined to make good on his promise, giving in to the mind-numbing feeling of fucking you hard. You began to see stars, so whipped for the feeling of his cock pounding into you. Crying out his name, you arched your hips up to his.

He slammed into your g-spot, making you tremble beneath the force of his onslaught. Unyielding, he drove you towards your second orgasm of the night. Everything was overwhelming, making you clutch at him harder. The sensation was nothing but pure lust and pleasure – and then you broke, seeing black as you came for the second time.

You felt yourself clench, arousal gushing from your pussy to soak the sheets again. Hoseok groaned, saying your name when he finally came. Rope after rope of cum filled your cunt and when he was finally done, he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

Eyes fluttering, you let out a shaky laugh. Hoseok exhaled, chest pressed to yours as his expression softened.

You grinned up at him, still breathless. “Wow.”

“Yeah.” He smiled dreamily back. “Wow.”

When he tried to roll but keep himself inside you, you laughed.

“Hobi –”

“Shh. Let this happen.”

“Hobi!” you snorted, smacking his chest.

“What?”

“I need to clean up.”

Although his lips turned downwards, he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Once he’d pulled out, you rolled from bed and hurried into the bathroom. After cleaning yourself up, you wandered into your bedroom and froze.

Hoseok had pulled all your sheets from the bed and stood helplessly in front of your closet.

“Uh.” You leaned your shoulder to the door. “What’re you doing?”

“I was trying to change your sheets, but your mom must keep them someplace different now.”

Unwittingly, you started to grin. It was just so strange having Hoseok in your room, trying to clean up after giving you the best double orgasm of your life. A good weird, though. The best kind of weird.

Heading into your bathroom, you returned with fresh sheets. “Here,” you said, handing them to Hoseok. Scooping the others from the floor, you stood. “I’ll throw these in the wash and be back.”

“Right back!”

You rolled your eyes at the demand but hurried to the laundry room and back. When you returned, you found Hoseok waiting for you in bed, sheets freshly changed. Slipping under the covers, you snuggled against his side.

Hoseok kissed the top of your head, leisurely stroking your arm with one hand. You stayed there for a while, happy to just be together again.

Then, Hoseok cleared his throat.

“What?” you said, looking up.

“I don’t remember if I said.” He sleepily smiled. “I loved the new script.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“The lead isn’t too perfect?”

Hoseok laughed, a bit sheepish. “I may have been projecting a little.”

“You were right, though. She was terrible.”

His gaze softened, looking at you. “No,” he said quietly. “But also, you can have the best screenplay in the world, Y/N and it’s still a game of chance. You’re talented and one day, everyone will see that. If not this screenplay, then the next one.”

His words were warm, settling over you like a blanket. Hoseok always believed in you when you couldn’t believe in yourself. You had more confidence in yourself now but sometimes, it was nice to have someone who supported you unconditionally. Someone without an agenda or anything in it for themselves. Someone who loved you and whom you loved back.

“Hobi?” you said, laying your head to his chest.

“Yeah?”

“Are we dating?

His chest shook as he laughed. “If you want to be.”

“I want to be.”

“Good. Me too.”

You nodded, waiting a little longer and then said, “Hoseok?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t fall asleep,” you warned. “If my parents come home and find you naked in my bed, you won’t live long enough to see the honeymoon phase.”

Hoseok snorted and you laughed, rolling over to kiss him again. Eventually you got out of bed, put on your clothes, and went downstairs to watch the Christmas movie, but nothing seemed to change the ear-splitting grin on your face.

With Hoseok beside you and hot chocolate in hand, you begrudgingly admitted it may have been a good idea to come home for the holidays, after all.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading 😊 HAPPY HOBI-DAYS, ALL!

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[sour--disposition]

Baby Steps

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harry lewis x fem!reader

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Request: Can I have an imagine where Harry accidentally gets you pregnant but no one knows your dating and you are scared to death but he is really good and it all is okay in the end and the rest of the sdmn are very supportive in the whole situation when they first find out about not only the two of you dating but also of the pregnancy. Thanks xx

I’m super open to doing a part two of this where baby w2s meets the uncles and we get super cute harry and baby fluff so lmk if thats something else i should add to the to do list

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

They were taunting you. The two lines on the stick. It was like they were laughing at you, enjoying the turmoil erupting in your gut. Maybe that was the baby making itself known. Who knows?

What was Harry going to say? Neither of you were ready for a baby, were you? Harry’s career was only growing at this point, the sky was well and truly the limit for the Sidemen and for Harry himself. You couldn’t jeopardise that with an accidental pregnancy. It could ruin everything.

You’d been safe, you were on birth control, for Christ's sake. Yet, here you were, having a face off with 3 pregnancy tests.

You texted your best friend, Gee, immediately, asking if you could come over. She replied instantly, worrying about you but telling you to come over whenever you wanted to.

“What’s wrong?”, Gee asked as soon as she opened the door to you. She looked up up and down, checking you for damage.

“I’m pregnant”, you whispered. “I was late and I thought it was just my birth control fucking around with me but I’ve been really ill the last couple of days and I just thought that I’d take a test and rule out that silly possibility because no way am I pregnant but I am and-”

“Breathe, Y/N”, Gee told you firmly, taking your hand in hers and dragging you over to the sofa. “It’s going to be okay”, she said softly, pulling you into her arms. “Does Harry know?”, she asked.

“No, I came straight here”, you whispered. “Oh, shit. The guys don’t even know we’re together. I think Freezy does but... Hi guys I’m actually Harry’s girlfriend surprise also surprise, I’m pregnant”, you said in a put on, over the top, happy voice. “My God, my life has gone to shit, Gee”, you huffed, slumping back onto the sofa.

“It’ll be fine. It’s your body, Y/N, and it’s your choice what you do with it. If Harry is supportive, that’s great. If not, you’ve got me, and the girls and Will and his friends. Whatever option you pick, you don’t have to do it alone”, Gee told you reassuringly, running her hand comfortingly up and down your arm. “You need to tell Harry and then you can take it from there”.

Gee let you sit with her for a little while longer, letting you calm down and get your thoughts together before you attempted to face Harry. You texted him, asking if he was free and if you could come over. He replied quickly, thank God, telling you to come over whenever you wanted.

“You can ring me whenever, okay? And if you need to come here after, you don’t have to ring, just come straight over. Let me know how everything goes, yeah?”.

The drive to Harry’s was stressful. You seemed to hit every red light possible, and every driver in front of you seemed to have zero sense of urgency. You tapped the steering wheel impatiently, flicking through the Spotify playlist you’d set when you left Gee’s.

By the time you’d parked up and gotten to Harry’s front door, you were practically shaking where you stood. The nerves were wracking through your entire body. Forget butterflies, there was a whole stampede going on in your stomach.

“Hey”, Harry smiled once you’d finally knocked on the door. “Are you okay? You don’t look too good”, he said, worry written plainly across his face.

“Is Freezy here or is it just us?”, you asked, chewing on your lip.

“It’s just us”, Harry said simply, taking your hand in his and guiding you over to the sofa. Once you’d sat down, he rested his hand on your knee. “You’re really worrying me, Y/N. What’s wrong?”.

“Promise you won’t be mad?”, you asked, voice small. Harry nodded, moving his hand to hold yours. “I’m pregnant”.

Harry seemed to lose all control of his face. His mouth dropped open slightly in shock and his hand around yours slackened. “I-”, he spluttered. “I thought we were safe”, he said quietly.

“We were”, you said, voice watery as tears started to fall. “There’s, like, a less than 1% chance. I’m so sorry”, you said, voice cracking slightly with emotion.

“Don’t be sorry, don’t cry”, Harry shushed. He seemed to snap back to reality there and then. He bundled you into his arms, carefully pulling you closer to him. He gently wiped the tears off of your face, leaving his hand there to cup your face. “Don’t ever be sorry”, he whispered, leaning forward to kiss you.

“But the boys and your channel and they don’t even know about us”, you rambled. “I don’t know what to do, Harry”, you whispered into the soft fabric of his hoodie.

“It’s your choice, Y/N. It’s your body. I’m not going to force you to have a baby that you don’t want to have, but I’ll be there every step of the way if you choose to keep it”, Harry told you.

“What do you want?”, you asked him quietly. “In an ideal world, what do you want?”.

“Ideally? This would’ve happened a little bit later. But I love you, Y/N. I’ve known from day one that I love you. I want nothing more than to have a family with you and if thats a little bit sooner than we first thought, then so be it. But I’ll be here, no matter what decision we make. All I ask is that you include me. No matter what choice we make, I’m not going anywhere”, Harry said. His thumb came up to swipe at a few more tears that had fallen.

You looked at Harry in awe. “Of course I want this with you, Harry. There’s nothing I want more. Sure, a couple more years would’ve been great. But we can do this, right?”, you asked, voice wavering only slightly.

“Yeah, we can”, Harry smiled. His hand moved from your thigh to your stomach, cupping around what would become a bump in the next few months. “Hi, baby”, he cooed softly, dipping his head down to rest on your chest. “I love you and your Mummy so very much”, he hummed. A smile fell into place on your face as you let yourself bask in the soft moment for a little while.

“Do you want to tell your friends?”, you asked Harry a few minutes later.

“Yeah”, he said simply. “I wanna be a good dad to my baby and that has to start from now. I think they know I’ve got a girlfriend, but I want you to meet them properly finally. And I’ll tell them there and then about Harry Junior. If they can’t get on board, then that’s a them problem”, Harry said with a sense of finality.

“We are not calling this baby Harry Junior, no matter how great of a dad you are”.

-

You were nervous, but not nearly as nervous as when you’d told Harry that you were pregnant last week. You were sat with Harry on the sofa of his living room, waiting for the rest of the Sidemen to come around. You’d already told Cal, it was kind of hard to deflect the question when he came into the room to see Harry affectionately cradling your body and stomach.

“What if they hate me?”, you asked Harry, leg bouncing in anticipation.

“You know them already, sort of. They won’t hate you. You’re amazing”, Harry promised.

“Yeah but they don’t know me as your girlfriend or the mother of your child”, you stressed. Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a knock on the door.

“That’ll be some of them”. Harry bounced up to open the door, returning to the room followed by Vik, Tobi and Josh. “I got a text from Simon, him and JJ are down the block in an Uber”, Harry said, quickly returning to his spot next to you.

You made small talk with the 3 boys and Harry until JJ, Ethan and Simon arrived. The wait couldn’t have been any longer than 5 minutes, but to you, it felt like a life time.

Once everyone was situated around the living room, Harry gestured at you awkwardly. “So, you know Y/N”, he started, sounding unsure of himself. He was met with a round of nods and ‘mhm’s. “We’ve been together for just over a year”, Harry said bluntly.

You were surprised by the lack of surprise in the room. “You dragged us all the way over here to tell us something we all already knew?”, Vik asked, looking around at the other boys.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly a well kept secret, Harry”, Simon laughed with a smile on his face.

“Oh, well...”, Harry trailed off, blushing and spluttering slightly. “There is something else, though”, he said quietly. “You’ve said I’ve been a bit off the last week and it’s because I’ve really needed to speak to you lot about something”.

“You aren’t pulling a JJ, right?”, Josh asked with a dramatic sigh. “I can’t do diss-tracks again, man, it feels like a fever dream”, he whined. Everyone around the room let out a low chuckle and Ethan poked at JJ’s shoulder, purposefully trying to wind him up.

“No, it’s not about that”, Harry laughed nervously. Harry looked like he was trying to find the words, but he was too nervous to string any of them together to form a coherent sentence.

“Last week I found out I’m pregnant”, you said, squeezing Harry’s hand gently in your own.

The shocked faces almost made you burst out into laughter. Over the last week, it was all you and Harry had talked about and it helped the both of you come to terms with the reality of the situation. It was still daunting, but you knew that you weren’t doing it alone which lifted a massive weight off of your chest.

Shocked faces soon broke out into huge grins. “Congratulations!”, Josh beamed from the other side of the living room. “How far along are you?”, he asked you.

“I’m not too sure, I have a doctors appointment tomorrow because I need to know if my birth control will have done any damage. But I’d say maybe 8 weeks, give or take”, you smiled.

“You had a good time in Italy then, Harry?”, JJ teased from his spot in the chair, earning him a swift swat from Simon. 

Harry’s face screwed up in confusion. “What does our anniversary trip have anything to do with - Oh...”, Harry trailed off, cheeks immediately setting alight with a pinkish red blush. You couldn’t help but giggle, leaning gently against Harry’s side. “Wait, how did you know about our anniversary trip?”, Harry asked.

“Like we said, Harry. You aren’t very subtle”.

[mrsbrekkers]

Hi! I read your Jesper fic and it’s like my favorite that I’ve ever read honestly it was amazing! I was wondering if I could request a Jesper x reader where the reader is small and really sweet and he has a crush on her? And she like steals his clothes and he just gets rlly soft? Once again I love your writing have a great day/night and no rush!

hi there! we’ve talked over pm, but thank you again, those kind words mean the WORLD to me! i haven’t put my writing out there in a while, so this means a lot, thank you again :)

so i had a weird idea when i saw this when i woke up this morning. mind you, it’s been sitting in my requests for a few days, but i saw it and didn’t have a lot of ideas, but then inspiration struck me and brb i gotta cry over this. AHHHHHH

pairings! jesper x reader / kaz x inej ( being soulmates ) + nina x matthias ( also being soulmates ) + wylan van eck enjoying his pie

reader is again, gender neutral, but leans more female presented, BUT the pronouns they/their are used throughout

warnings! jesper and reader being the fluffest couple to walk the grishaverse, kaz endlessly shipping, kaz also pinning for inej, nina + kaz shipping reader and jesper, the crows in general shipping reader x jesper

word count; 3036 words

one-shot under cut!

this mood board was made by a friend and UGH IT TAKES IN THE FIC S O WELL!!! @r3tr0sp3ct !! thank you so much, SHFJD

5 WAYS TO TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER YOU LOVE THEM

Courtesy Of Jesper Fahey, to my Dearest Y/N

5: Tease Them About How Short They Are

It was no secret that Y/N was the shortest of the crows. A mere five foot three, compared to the other Crows? They were short. Shorter than Inej by an inch or two, and by a foot compared to Matthias. Yet, it made them dangerous: able to move from place to place almost as swiftly as Inej. They were able to look unintimidating, when in reality, they could kill you, your family, and your relatives. They were able to lie their way through almost anything: another factor of people underestimating them. They were dangerous, which is why they were a part of the Crows after all. An asset, a leader even. Kaz saw them as valuable.

That didn’t stop the endless amount of teasing from the Crows though. And who had started it? Jesper Fahey.

First joining the Crows had been an impulsive decision, but one that Y/N didn’t regret. A family came with joining, and they’d lost theirs a pretty good time ago. What also came with joining was the teasing. Another day at the Crow Club, and Y/N, still relatively new to the Barrel life, was watching as Jesper gambled. They’d never understand the payoff of such quizzical acts of dumbness, but they stood there behind Jesper, confused.

Finishing the hand, Jesper glanced back at Y/N, chuckling slightly. Y/N’s eyes shifted, their glare at Jesper meeting him right in the eyes. It almost caused him to back down from what he was about to say, but he simply smirked the usual Jesper smirk. Flirtatious and bubbly. His hand swiftly moved, pulling Y/N to stand directly in front of him, the hand on their waist causing them to become flustered.

“You’re shorter than Inej,” Jesper inquired.

“I am not-” but Y/N didn’t finish their sentence. They’d already known such, but now Jesper was pointing it out. “So what?”

“It means I get to deem a new nickname for you! Inej would never let me call her anything related to her height, she threatened me with her knives. Or Kaz would glare at me, which scares me to say the least,” Jesper smiled now. He was going to have to find his way into Y/N’s good graces to fully engage in said nickname. They seemed conflicted for a moment, a pout making its way to their face.

“Does that mean I get to deem a nickname for you based on how tall you are?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow. They already had one in mind, considering Jesper was only a mere inch shorter than Matthias, the nickname still fit him.

“Well, that depends, Shortcake, what is your nickname for me?”

“Big Bear,” Y/N responded, smiling.

“Hmm, I like it. Shortcake and Big Bear. A powerful duo,” Jesper said, chuckling.

And thus, the teasing of how short Y/N was began.

4; Tell Them How Sweet They Are

The teasing didn’t stop there. Of course it didn’t. Because while the nickname ‘Shortcake’ was coined by Jesper, everyone had chosen new nicknames for how short Y/N was. Matthias called them Bubbles. Nina called them Babycakes. Wylan called them Munchkin. Inej called them Mini-me. And even Kaz had found a nickname for them; Firecracker.

But for Jesper, he wanted to find other ways to tease, or to tell Y/N what they meant to him, and low and behold, chance struck him. Eating with the Crows at one of the bakeries in Ketterdam, Y/N sitting next to Nina, with Jesper on their other side. Matthias sat next to Nina, squished between her and Inej. Wylan sat on the edge of the booth, opposite of Jesper, with Kaz sitting in a chair at the head of the booth.

Jesper glanced over at Y/N every once in a while, who was enjoying their creampuffs, he watched a bit of the filling be left on their lips. letting out a small chuckle, he watched Y/N turn toward him. “Hm?” They murmured, tilting their head. Sometimes Jesper wondered what someone like Y/N was doing in the Barrel. How Kaz had even found someone so sweet and kind roaming the streets.

“You got something a little-” Jesper raised his hand, his thumb brushing the pastry filling from Y/N’s lips. “There,” and with that, he chuckled before eating the filling. Y/N’s eyes had followed his hand the entire way, becoming flustered just as they had in the Crow Club just a few nights ago.

“That was my leftovers for later, Big Bear,” Y/N glared, their tone though was playful. The entire table now stared at them. Nina had a knowing look on their face, Matthias just seemed confused. Inej had let out a small laugh, Kaz’s eyes shifting to Inej upon hearing the sound. And Wylan? He just took another bite of his pie, his attention unwavered.

“Shortcake, you’re really telling me you would’ve saved any amount of those creampuffs as leftovers? I doubt it, they’re your favorite,” Jesper observed, making Y/N huff and taking another bite of a creampuff.

“They’re sweet and warm, of course I wouldn’t leave a single one for leftovers,” Y/N deemed, crossing their arms as they went to grab their last creampuff, but Jesper beat them to it, biting into it.

“Hmm, they’re not as sweet as you,” Jesper said, kissing Y/N’s nose, making them go cross-eyed with a smile.

“Hey! That was MY last creampuff!” Y/N said, coming to their senses after they realized Jesper had taken their last one. Before they could go to grab it though, Jesper raised it above his head. Oh, it was on. Before too long, Y/N was chasing Jesper out of the bakery, leaving the other Crows a laughing mess as they watched Jesper run, yelling for Y/N to catch him.

“Those two are soulmates,” Nina said, a wide smile on her lips as she watched Y/N practically topple Jesper onto the concrete, grabbing what was left of their creampuff and biting into it. Her eyes then shifted to Matthias.

“Soulmates.” Matthias agreed, smiling.

3; Save Them From The Bad Guy

Y/N was smart, Jesper knew that. They could probably give Jesper and Kaz a run for their money if they would like to. They were small, agile, talented. They were everything in Jesper’s eyes and more. But that didn’t make them any less susceptible to being overwhelmed during a job. They weren’t Nina Zenik. They weren’t Grisha, meaning if the right spots were hit they could indeed be overtaken.

But with Jesper by their side, that potential went down exponentially. Because whether Y/N believed it or not, and they did, Jesper would protect them with his life. They would do so for one another without hesitation. Which as Kaz put it: ‘is a dangerous prospect.’ The two didn’t care though. Well, in certain ways they did, but where was the fun in giving Kaz the satisfaction of thinking he was somewhat right? Answer: There was none.

Having just grabbed the package they needed during the job, Y/N and Jesper were about to be home free when they were spotted by the cashier, who undoubtedly worked for Pekka Rollins. Going eye wide, the two stared at the cashier for some time, and before they could come up with a Kaz level idea, the two bolted from the shop, Y/N’s hand in Jesper’s.

“We’re not dying today, Shortcake!” Jesper laughed over the commotion, the adrenaline of the job running through him as they ran.

“Hopefully not, Big Bear!” Y/N yelled, letting go of Jesper’s hand and breaking off from him. They were bigger targets together. Slipping through the crowds, Y/N ran as quickly as their legs could carry them. But speed could only make up so much when men who seemed twice your size were chasing after you.

Y/N knew Ketterdam well, but not Inej well. Not Kaz well. So when they came face to face with a wall that was too big for them to climb before the men managed to catch up, they scowled. Where the hell is Inej when you need her?

Turning to face the men who showed up, Y/N showed their hands. “Went after the wrong one,” They remarked, smirking. The men didn’t seem to be having it though, and as they stalked towards Y/N, a voice was heard behind them.

“And to think you’re usually the one saving my ass!” And then the three men fell, one bullet lodged in each of the men’s heads. Y/N looked up, smiling as they saw Jesper.

“Got the package?” Y/N asked, Jesper showcasing the bag of whatever it was Kaz had deemed they needed.

“I do, but I also have the most important package.” Jesper stepped over the bodies and took Y/N’s hand again, a wide smile on his lips.

“And what package would that be?” Y/N knew what he was going to say, but they wanted to hear it outloud

“Why you, of course!” Jesper winked, kissing Y/N’s forehead before they were off to bring the package to Kaz.

2; Let Them Borrow Your Clothes

Another night at the Crow Club, but something was unusual. Jesper was used to having a stalking Y/N behind him wondering how poker worked. This time though, they didn’t seem to be found anywhere in the Crow Club. It almost made Jesper not want to play. What was the point of playing if you didn’t have your lucky charm? There was no reason in his mind, especially as he began to have a bad streak of luck. So, standing from the table, he went to the booth Inej sat at, Kaz across from her.

“Have you guys seen Y/N?” Jesper asked, earning him a small smirk from Kaz, who simply glanced at Inej. He’d seen the newest Crow go to Jesper’s room while he’d gone down the steps. Kaz had been tempted to ask what they were doing, but he already had a feeling about what they were doing.

“They’re at the Slat,” Kaz said, deciding to rat out Y/N.

Jesper raised a brow. Weird. “Have fun you two! Inej, make sure he doesn’t come up with some more heist plans while I’m gone,” he joked, earning an eye roll from Inej. Turning from the table, he made his way out of the Crow Club, walking to the Slat and up to Y/N’s room, which was right next to his. Granted, they were really just tiny spaces meant to serve for the necessities. So, when Jesper arrived at their floor, he stopped in his tracks.

“Shortcake?”

Y/N turned, cursing as they realized they’d been caught. Instead of being adorned in their usual black attire, Y/N wore one of Jesper’s jackets.

“Listen, it was right there, it looked warm, I just really really . . . why are you walking towards me like that?” Y/N asked, watching as Jesper stepped towards them. If only they could see into Jesper’s mind, but the look in his eyes said it all. He was completely, utterly in love with the person before him. Letting out a gentle laugh, he kissed the corner of Y/N’s lips, earning him wide eyes.

“It looks better on you, although a little big, it’s perfect, Shortcake” Jesper said, in turn, he received a giddy laugh.

“Why thank you Big Bear. It is really warm, I may have to steal it,” Y/N remarked, crossing their arms and posing in the jacket for Jesper.

“You can’t steal it if I give it to you.”

“Hey! No fair. We’re criminals. I shall steal Jesper Fahey’s coat!”

“Mhm, now come on. I think you should show off your new attire at the Crow Club,” Jesper said, taking Y/N’s hand, but instead, they moved to stand beside Jesper, moving his arm so it wrapped around their waist.

When they arrived at the Crow Club once more, Inej glanced at Kaz, who now looked over his plans he’d been drawing out, his eyes on Y/N and Jesper.

“You’re so in on them being soulmates aren’t you?” Inej asked.

“Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about, my dearest Inej,” Kaz spoke quietly, making sure only she could hear.

1; Telling Them You Love Them

Whatever Jesper was planning, Y/N had a feeling it involved something big. They’d never seen him as frantic as he currently was. Then again, Jesper was a pretty frantic person at times, but still this probably took the cake for the most frantic. He had flowers, candies, creampuffs, not that Y/N knew all of that.

He was receiving different ways to tell people that you love them, and now he had no idea which one to go with. Nina told him pastries. Inej told him to simply be outright with it. Matthias told him some weird Fjerdan way they would do it. Wylan had shrugged, he’d never really been in love before. He hadn’t even DARED to ask Kaz for obvious reasons.

That left him with his own way of doing it. He wasn’t sure if Y/N would like it. He knew she’d like the cream puffs. But the candies? The flowers? Were they that kind of romantic?

It also didn’t help that when he’d asked everyone, he’d at first told them that he had feelings for Y/N, and they’d all replied that they knew. That didn’t help his nerves, because did that mean Y/N knew? Or were they just as oblivious as he was?

The night seemed simple enough - until it wasn’t.

The flowers didn’t smell right to Jesper, so he threw them out. The candies, as Nina revealed, were Y/N’s least favorite. The only thing he still had by the beginning of the night were the creampuffs. But he wanted to do this right. He had to do this right.

Entering the bakery, Jesper spotted Y/N at one of the booths, eating creampuffs. Well, there goes the last thing he had to give them. Making his way to the table, Jesper watched as Y/N raised their head to look at him.

“Don’t tell me Kaz sent you to come and ruin my night with some heist plans, Big Bear,” Y/N said, biting into their cream puff, humming in delight.

“Nope, just me. . . . just me,” Jesper murmured the last bit.

“Just you huh?” Y/N asked, finishing their plate and throwing it out. They stood, thanking the baker before leaving the bakery. Jesper followed behind. His mind raced with ideas on how to do this right. Maybe this was the right way? Stopping in one of the alleys, Jesper sucked in a deep breath.

“I love you!” He called to Y/N, who stalled for a moment, eyes going wide just as they did when Jesper had kissed the corner of their mouth.

“You make me rethink everything I know. You waltzed into the Crows lives, but most importantly, you waltzed into mine. I love you,” Jesper watched Y/N, seeing them laugh a bit.

“Go on, Big Bear,” Y/N spoke, walking slowly towards the gushing Jesper.

“I love the way you let me joke about your height. I love the way you get creampuff filling all over your face, you actually still have some on your lips. I love the way you joke with me during jobs, even when they go terribly wrong,” Jesper chuckled now, his smile wide.

“I love when you wear my clothes. They’re big on you. My jackets almost reach the floor. My sweaters reach your thighs. I love when you stand behind me while I’m playing cards, wondering how the game works. Or why it’s helpful. I love when you sneak into my bed late at night and lie across from me even with the small space we have, acting as if I don’t know you’re there. I love the way you chase me for your last cream puff and tackle me into the ground. But most of all, I love you . . . you, gosh do i love you,” Jesper felt out of breath. He wanted to yell from the top of rooftops that he loved Y/N. The things he’d do for them were endless.

“You know what I love about you, Jesper Fahey?” Y/N asked, tilting their head as they stopped in front of the breathless boy.

“What?”

“Everything,” and then they were on their tippy toes, their lips barely meeting Jesper’s.

The taste of cream puff filling hit Jesper first, a familiarity he knew with Y/N. Home. His fingers delicately moved to hold the back of their neck, his eyes shutting as he fully leaned down to kiss them. The pounding in his chest could likely be heard throughout the entirety of Ketterdam. He could feel the concrete underneath him, and it felt like the only stabilizer he had to keep him grounded. For if not for the concrete beneath him, he would’ve thought he was dreaming. Floating, even. But the feeling of their skin under his fingers, their lips. Everything invaded his senses and he didn’t want it to stop. He didn’t want them to stop.

Y/N had dreamed of this moment. The way Jesper’s slightly chapped lips would feel against their own, how soft his skin would feel, how his hair would feel. How he’d feel. Time felt lost, the world around them dimming as they let themself be consumed by this feeling. Nothing had felt so right. No one else existed except them.

Becoming breathless, Jesper pulled from Y/N, his eyes fluttering open as he placed his forehead against theirs. Then he felt the soft feeling of rain beginning to fall. “Isn’t that cheesy,” he chuckled, making Y/N laugh and take his hand.

“Ready to run through the rain, Big Bear?” They whispered.

Jesper didn’t answer, and instead he turned, pulling Y/N with him towards the Slat, their laughs being heard for miles.

[pftones3482]

Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

~~

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

~~

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

~~

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

[littlesniggy]

Savior

Anon: IT‘S OPEN AGAIN! 🎉 im the Anon who asked for the Sakazuki request at the 100 followers event. Would you do a scenario where he takes female readers virginity ? I just can’t imagine him being the best choice for it but maybe you have a different take on it! Love your work so much and thank you!!! 💖

Sakazuki taking reader‘s virginity Anon here! I’d say maybe reader is not in a relationship with him but if you can’t come up with a scenario where this could be the case then can also be in a relationship. It’s up to you! Thank you so much !

Well...this is rather long and I apologize. I couldn't come up with a scenario where he would take reader's virginity without them being in a relationship except for this one. It has a lot of story in the beginning so feel free to skip to the dirty part if it's too long....anyways, I hope you like it and let me know!

Warning: 18+, nsfw, masturbation, superior x subordinate

Parining: Sakazuki x female reader

Word count: 4.1k

He had saved you when you were a child; kidnapped by pirates and to be sold off to god knows where. He, a Vice Admiral at the time, and his men caught the pirates off guard like a sudden storm, the outlaws not having anywhere to run. You watched him from afar, barking orders at his men and not paying you any attention. He scared you more than the pirates did, with his cold eyes and his unapproachable aura.

You joined the marines when you were old enough, wanting to stop piracy and the suffering pirates caused to innocent citizens. Oddly enough, Sakazuki became like a role model to you in his consequent behavior even though you had no interactions whatsoever. It was also no surprise to you when he was promoted to be an admiral. You admired him, wanting to climb the ranks like him and in the process became somewhat ruthless in your pursuit of pirates as well though not to the extend he was.

He came to the base you were stationed at, ordered by Sengoku to help catch the rising numbers of pirates sighted in this area. Apparently, he was not amused about it, thinking all of you had done a terrible job of letting this happen. First thing he did was give an angry speech to everyone, scolding you for the lack of effort in catching the pirates. The Vice Admiral’s got an even bigger scolding; everyone leaving the meeting room smaller than before.

You were called into his office a couple of days later. One of your superiors had recommended you to become Sakazuki’s assistant for the time he was here, not wanting to do it himself. You felt excited to be even thought of, wanting to see the admiral in action. So, you knocked on his door, waiting for him to call you in.

“Hello, Sir. I’m-“

“You’re late, marine.” His voice was harsh and annoyed, his eyes boring into yours, making you swallow. To say he was intimidating would’ve been an understatement – he was terrifying! You were taken back to more than ten years ago when you first saw him. You felt like a small child that did something wrong and was to be scolded by their parent.

“Sit down.” He ordered you, gesturing to the empty chair in front of the desk. You nodded, hurrying over and sitting down, not wanting to let him wait any longer. Your enthusiasm had dropped significantly; you weren’t even able to look him in the face, your hands fidgeting in your lap. You felt his eyes mustering you in irritation and it made you even more uncomfortable.

“I’ve heard you were the right one for the job but when I look at you I’m wondering what kind of marines work here when you’re the best they can offer as an assistant.” His words stabbed you like a knife in the heart. But he was right? The moment you entered the room you felt so nervous, not even a kid would take you seriously. Taking all your courage, you looked up and right at his face, feeling the need to look away immediately but pushing this urge away.

“Don’t you have anything to say, marine?” he got more irritated by your silence and you could understand; you were not making a good impression on him. “I’m sorry I was late, Sir. It won’t happen again.” You finally managed to say, trying to sound more confident than you actually felt. “That’s what to be expected of a marine. I don’t need any half-assed assistant who I can’t even rely on being punctual. Next time this happens you’ll be punished.” He said, meaning every word he said. You swallowed again, nodding at him. “Understood, Sir.”

From then on you spent a lot of time together. You were mostly ordered to run from A to B to collect reports or documents for him and being yelled at when you did the smallest mistakes. The first time you boarded a ship with Sakazuki, however, was the most exciting moment in your life so far. Over the last three weeks you’ve been his assistant for you have gotten used to him and somewhat could anticipate which mood he was in (most of the time not in a good one). Your admiration for him never really wavered; just the respect you had for this man grew even more.

“Y/n, is everything ready for departure?” he asked, standing at the bow of the marine ship, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Yes, Sir. Everything is set and we will leave any moment.” You informed him. Akainu simply nodded, turning around and walking towards a Vice Admiral, talking to him. While he was gone you were following your own train of thought. You never told him that he was the one who saved you and you doubted he actually remembered. You wouldn’t even know how to address it, never finding the right moment. You also doubted he actually cared enough to listen to what you had to tell him so you made the decision to not mention it at all. At least at the moment.

“The admiral wants the reports from today. Bring them to him.” Your Vice Admiral told you, handing you the reports his subordinates had written over the day. You nodded, making your way over to Sakazuki’s office. Cold wind blew inside the small room when you entered, closing the door behind you.

“Do you have the reports, Y/n?” he asked, not looking up from his desk. “Yes, Sir. They’re all here.” You replied, handing them over to your boss. He nodded, not acknowledging your presence any further. You were about to leave when his deep voice caught you off guard. “Have I told you to leave?” he asked, still not looking up. You were confused, stopping in your tracks. “No, Sir.”

“I want you to take a look at this an tell me if you find anything suspicious.” He said, holding a piece of paper up. You nodded, still confused but took it and sat on the other chair, starting to read. You felt his eyes on you, watching you while you read and it made you feel nervous. It was hard for you to concentrate, your eyes looking up at him from time to time, needing to find where you had left before and taking unnecessarily long. Of course, he noticed.

“Is there a reason why you stop reading all the time?” he wanted to know, a scowl on his face. “N-no, Sir. It’s just difficult to concentrate.” You mumbled, pressing your lips shut after realizing you said it out loud. The admiral raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?” he insisted. You shook your head, trying to let the topic drop. “It’s nothing, Sir.”

“I want to know why my assistant is getting distracted when I gave her an order. It must be something very important when it takes up your mind this much.” He narrowed his eyes and you knew you had to tell him something believable. But coming up with a lie was rather difficult with his intense stare so your only option was the truth. “I-it’s just a little distracting when you….look at me like this. It makes me feel nervous.” You admitted.

Sakazuki was silent for a moment, making the whole situation even more unnerving for you. Then he huffed, leaning back in his chair. You looked up at him again, his stare now even more intense than before and with a blush you lowered your gaze again. “If I make you nervous I suggest you get used to it.” He just said. “I guess so, Sir.” You mumbled, trying so hard to focus on the sheet in front of you.

Out of the corner of your eyes you saw him get up from his chair and walk around the small room, waiting for you to finish reading. You felt his presence behind you, your body tensing unconsciously. You imagined his eyes wandering over you back up to your neck, creating small goosebumps on your skin. You wondered what he was thinking about. Your mind all of a sudden went crazy, the most bizarre scenarios played in your head and you lost your focus completely.

Your face as beet red at the thought of him possibly considering you attractive, him thinking about seducing you, him thinking about touching you – all those thoughts and you didn’t know if they were actually true. Your mind was playing tricks on you; the time you’ve spent together apparently had you develop feelings towards this man behind you and you caught yourself more often than not imagining being intimate with him.

There was this one time where you accidentally saw him shirtless in his office, after he had spilled something on his shirt (he denied it of course) and was changing into a new one. That night you had your first wet dream about him but you tried to play it down, telling yourself it was just the close proximity you two were sharing that naturally made you feel sexually attracted to him. But it never stopped. Soon, you actively fanaticized about him and you felt ashamed about it.

“Are you done, Y/n?” he brought you back to reality and you slowly shook your head no. “I-I’m sorry, Sir. I don’t seem to be able to concentrate. I think I might be too tired.” You said, hoping he believed you. You didn’t dare to turn around and look at him but you put the paper down on the desk in front of you, showing him that you were being honest. Akainu huffed. You heard footsteps coming closer to you until you saw his shoes next to your chair.

You looked up at him unsettled, anticipating his scolding.

“You seem awfully tense around me the for the past week. Is there something you need to tell me? If not, I suggest you get over it and take your job seriously. I don’t need someone who gets distracted so easily.” You couldn’t possibly tell him that you were thinking about him being naked and between your legs!

“I just wanted to say how thankful I am for getting this opportunity serving under you, Sir.” God! This sounded wrong! What if he thinks I want to have sex with him? Well, technically I do but he mustn’t know!

Sakazuki didn’t know what was going on in your head but just nodded. You were sure he didn’t believe you but also knew you wouldn’t tell him. So, he left it at that. “If you can’t do a better job tomorrow, I will replace you.”

You were ordered to stay on the ship today for whatever reason. The admiral was probably still not pleased with your performance yesterday that he wanted to punish you for it since he kind of knew how much you wanted to fight. Besides you there were a handful of other marines still on the ship but it was quiet over all. You had the order to organize the various reports in his office.

When you couldn’t find one you were sure you had seen yesterday you looked for it in his entire office. When you still couldn’t find it you thought that he might’ve taken it with him last night to his room. You were not allowed to enter his room but maybe this was an exception? Plus, he wasn’t here yet and it probably wouldn’t take long. But when it was gone, he would know that someone was in his office. But maybe he wouldn’t be too mad…

Before you knew it you had opened his door (surprisingly it wasn’t locked) and stepped inside his room. It was dark and you needed to turn on the lamp. The dim light barely illuminated the room but you could see enough to find your way around. On the nightstand you saw them – the five missing reports. You hurried over and picked them up, you were almost out the door when a thought hit you. You stopped dead in your tracks and turned around, looking at his neatly made bed. It was huge.

You slowly walked back, stopping in front of it and contemplating with yourself. You should just leave and never come back here! But you really wanted to lay down in his bed – just once – and see how he was sleeping. Without thinking twice you laid down on his big bed on your stomach and pressed your face into his pillow, closing your eyes. It smelled like him; he had this distinct smell of musk and a hint of cologne that made your knees go weak every time you were close to him.

Unconsciously, you let your hand wander down and between your legs, pushing pat the restraints of your uniform pants and panties. You felt your sex getting wet the more you smelled the pillow, your finger starting to rub against your folds, spreading your slick on your cunt. You moaned into the pillow, imagining it being his hand stoking you, his weight pressing down on you and his hot breath tickling your neck.

Your fingers entered your core, moving in and out, imagining his thick dick taking you as he pressed your head into the pillow. Another moan, this time a little louder, when you entered a second finger, spreading them inside of you. You’ve never had sex but you liked to imagine what it would feel like. His dick going deeper and deeper, taking your virginity as he praised you how good you were making him feel.

You turned on your back, pulling down your pants, spreading your legs, and taking the pillow from under your head, pressing it to your face with one hand while the other one entered your core again, thrusting inside of you. Your mind was in a frenzy, now imagining how he would take you like this, his cold eyes looking down at you with this cold gaze. You shivered, your fingers thrusting in and out faster.

“What do you think you’re doing there, Y/n?” You stopped dead in your tracks, your body tensing at the sound of his voice. Why was he back yet? He wasn’t supposed to be back for at least another hour! You were frozen in place, not being able to move, not wanting to pull the pillow aside and look at the man that was standing in the room, watching you fuck yourself on your fingers in his bed.

“I asked you a question.” You could hear his footsteps coming closer and soon after the pillow on your face was being lifted, making you look at your superior. “Are you having fun?” he asked, his harsh eyes staring right at you. He’s gonna kill me! Your mind screamed. A huge lump had formed inside your throat, making it impossible for you to answer. He let the pillow fall next to you on the bed, his eyes not leaving your face.

“If you need to masturbate this badly, why don’t you do it in your own bed, Y/n?” You couldn’t reply, shock was written all over your face. His gaze now wandered down your body to where your fingers were still buried in your went cunt. You didn’t know what he was thinking, his face this unreadable mask. He didn’t sound mad but he didn’t sound pleased either. But maybe this was a good sign.

“Don’t you have to say anything to your defense? Nothing like ‘Oh, my bed is broken so I used yours, Sir’?” Your face turned red and you slowly pulled your fingers out, his eyes following the motion. “I…..” you started but didn’t know what to say. “I should throw you out just like this, making everybody see what you’ve been doing in here.” He mused.

“P-please, don’t do this.” You found your voice, horrified at the possibility of him going through with this thought. “And why shouldn’t I?”

“I-it was a mistake, Sir! I was just….I wasn’t thinking!” Akainu huffed and amusement, his eyes finding yours again. “Is that so. What made you think it was acceptable to masturbate in your superior’s bed? Does it give you some kind of kick?” You shook your head and were about to pull your pants up but his next words stopped you.

“Were you thinking about me while you fucked yourself on your fingers?” mortified, you looked at him. “Were you thinking about how it was me fucking you?” you didn’t know what to say, too horrified to answer. “What makes you think you could handle me, Y/n?” still, no answer.

Sakazuki tilted his head to the side, watching you in slight amusement. “Take the rest of your clothes off.” His order caught you off guard. “S-Sir?”

“Did you hear me stutter? I said, take the rest of your clothes off.” His tone was harsher, leaving no room to argue.

With shaky hands you sat up and unbuttoned your uniform blouse, revealing your bra which followed soon after. You weren’t sure what he wanted to do; maybe he would throw you out like this, completely naked and humiliated. But you weren’t prepared for what came next. The admiral unbuttoned his shirt as well, revealing his muscular chest and more of his tattoo. Your eyes grew wide in disbelief. What was going on.

“I take it if I fuck you now you’ll become more focused on your tasks again, right?” he asked while opening his pants, pulling out his still soft member. You were afraid of your eyes popping out at the sight, inching away from him by instinct. He kneeled down on the mattress, towering over you.

Your heart was hammering in your chest when he positioned himself between your legs, pulling you closer to him. His hand started stroking himself. You watched in amazement as his dick turned harder and harder until it laid heavy in his hand. “Let’s get it done and over with, shall we?” he made it sound like a transaction at a crowded supermarket where he just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“W-wait! I…You…you shouldn’t…” but he pressed a hand over your mouth, shutting you up. “What I should and shouldn’t do is none of your concern.” He positioned himself at your wet entrance, sliding his dick over your folds, making you mewl in response. He took his hand away and put it right next to your head, kneeling over you completely. When he was about to enter you, you inched away, looking at him scared.

“P-please….be gentle….” You pressed out, realizing that his dick was way bigger than you had imagined. It would hurt, you were sure of it. Akainu pulled you closer again; you could feel his thick mushroom head at your entrance again. “Please…! I….I’ve never had….I’ve never done it before…” you stuttered, averting your eyes. The admiral’s eyes narrowed in response, looking your body up and down again.

He didn’t answer, you only felt his weight press against your entrance, his dick slowly but surely sliding inside your body. Your whole body tensed up, pain filling your core as he pushed further and further. You grabbed his arm next to your head with you hand, clawing at his skin in discomfort. “S-Sir! Please…give me some time!” you pleaded, eyes tightly shut.

You could hear his slightly uneven breathing and felt his big member slowly fill your up. The stretch was more than uncomfortable and your body tried to move away from him with every new inch he added. You felt a hand come up to your breasts, playing with them and squeezing them. You opened your eyes a little, looking up at his stern face. You looked down, seeing your hips raised to meet his dick, ass hanging in the air. You saw his dick not even buried half inside of you and it made your heart skip a beat in fear. This was never going to fit completely!

He pulled out a little before moving back in. “Ungh!” you gasped, your grip on his arm tightening at the feeling. He repeated the movement, each time pushing in a little further. His hand moved down from your breast and between your legs, finding your clit and circling it lazily with his thumb. You legs twitched at the feeling and you wanted to close your legs but he wouldn’t let you; his hips were in your way so you had to let him do.

“S-sir…..this feels kind of good…” you panted, trying to concentrate on his thumb on your clit. “Just because it’s your first time. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be this kind.” His words made your stomach tingle inside. So, he at least cared a little about you. Your legs slowly wrapped around his hips as good as possible and you pulled him a little closer, looking him in the eyes while you did it.

Sakazuki grinned a little, starting to pick up his pace. His thrusts became deeper and deeper, filling you out more and more. His thumb pressed down in your clit, adding a little bit of heat, making you moan out in pleasure. “S-sir!” you panted, grabbing at his wrist. “You want me to stop playing with you clit?” he asked, about to pull his hand away. “N-no! Please, keep doing this!” you begged, looking at him desperately. “Then let go of my wrist.” He replied.

You let your hand lay next to your head while the other one was still grabbing the arm right next to your head. Akainu’s thrusts became harder, the fabric of his pants scratching at the back of your thighs and his heavy balls slapping against your ass. He was filling you out all the way, your cunt pressed flush against his pelvis.

Your moans got louder, the uncomfortable feeling already pushed to the back of your head thanks to his thumb on your clit, adding heat from time to time. You saw your tits wiggle at his thrusts, you back arched when he hit a special sweet spot inside of you. The admiral groaned above you, slamming his dick inside of you without mercy.

He put his hand that was next to your head on your hip and hold you in place, panting heavily while he fucked you without any hesitation. Since you needed a new source of support to grab on you reached over your head to head of the bed, grabbing the the mattress and clawing your fingers into it.

Sakazuki closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your tight cunt squeezing him with every thrust, ready to milk him. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to make you cum, being it your first time but he was honestly more fixated on his own at the moment. His hips snapped back and forth, your moans filling his room your writhing body underneath his – it all was really appealing to the older male. He wouldn’t say it out loud but when he found you lying here on his bed with your legs spread he would’ve loved to take you at once but his self-control was stronger than his instincts.

“I…I think I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, Sir!” you moaned, raising your hips more to meet his thrusts, your legs pressing him closer to you to feel him even deeper. He watched you trow your head back, your small body tensed underneath him before your muscles spasmed around his dick, clenching and unclenching as you came with a loud moan, your back arching, you tits bouncing a little.

The admiral huffed and groaned deeply, joining you in your orgasm soon after. Before he came he pulled out though, mind not clouded enough that he might forget it. His slick semen was covering your stomach, his hand stroking himself eagerly to let every drop of his seed come down on your body.

You were panting heavily, watching thick ribbons of cum cover your stomach. You reach out, collecting some of it on your finger and licking it up, tasting him on your tongue. It was salty and bitter, nothing like you expected but it was somewhat good nonetheless. You bit your lip at his stare, feeling so shameless and dirty to just taste his cum like some whore but you simply couldn’t help.

“Are you gonna be able to focus on your tasks from now on, Y/n?” he asked while he pulled out, inspecting the mess you two have made. Blushing you nodded shyly, pulling your legs to your body and closing them. “Good. We wouldn’t want this small incident to repeat itself, now would we?” you blushed even deeper at his smirk, knowing this probably wasn’t the last time. After all, this mission would take at least another month.

[egcdeath]

Since you said we can send in request😄 how about a bachelor party for Steve and reader. Full of fun and romance.

bottoms up

summary: steve tells you all about his wild bachelor party. 

word count: 1.2k 

warnings: excessive drinking, terrible decisions, fluff, basically a crack fic, i barely use dialogue tags in this so you’re just gonna have to guess who’s talking

author’s note: this was supposed to be a drabble. 

you can find my drabble masterlist here and my regular masterlist here <3

It had been a long, exhausting weekend of celebration. Of course, it was exhausting in the best way possible, but between the extensive spa days, bar hopping, and seeing more male strippers in one night than you'd seen in the entirety of your life, you were really looking forward to curling up in bed with your fiancée.

It seemed Steve was feeling similarly to you, as he was already pajama clad and sprawled across your bed by the time you arrived home.

You quickly freshened up and joined him on the mattress, slipping under your duvet and cuddling up to Steve.

“How was your weekend?” Steve asked, rubbing circles on your back.

“Exhausting. I could probably sleep for years.”

He chuckled softly at your statement, “well, don’t do that. Wanna talk about it?”

“I’ll tell you over breakfast tomorrow. I don’t think I have the energy to come up with the words right now,” you aimlessly played with the hem of his shirt. “What about you guys? Why don’t you tell me a bachelor party bedtime story?”

“It was… a lot. I almost called you several times. Let’s just say that Sam... stopped me.”

“That bad, eh? Tell me everything,” you gushed.

“Well we were supposed to go camping. I don’t know who decided that was a good idea. Actually I do, it was Thor. It took about half an hour before Tony was starting arguments with everyone. I think he was getting moody about having to be in the outdoors away from all his tech, and something about how bachelor parties aren’t supposed to be like this. We didn’t even get to dinner before he insisted that we find a nice hotel to stay at for the night, and go to a club.”

“You guys don’t really seem like campers anyway. What happened after that?”

“I was getting there before you interrupted me.”

“There was a natural lull in your story.”

“Whatever. So we pack everything up and go back out to town. There was some boujee ass hotel Tony knew about and took us there, but there were no rooms. So he was like ‘make room’ and the staff told him that they would try but they just needed a minute. So Buck suggested that we go to the hotel bar, and we did. The only problem is that alcohol doesn’t have the same effect on some of us that it does with others, so Thor had to break out the Asgardian mead. And he had a lot of it.”

“Oh no, I feel like this is not going in a good direction.”

“You’re absolutely right, because one second I’m sitting in a hotel bar, and the next I was half conscious on a private jet.”

“Steve! You did not black out. That’s not very responsible of you.”

“I was peer pressured! Besides, I don’t think I did anything too bad. Did you not get super drunk for at least one night?”

You pondered the question for a moment, “hmm. Go on.”

“So I wake up on a private jet, not like a Quinjet, but like, a real plane. No idea where I am or where we’re going. Sam is the most sober among us by the time I’m awake, but still pretty drunk. Keep in mind I’m also a little out of it. I ask him where we’re going, and he told me Las Vegas. At this point I’m not surprised, but I want to call you to let you know that I’m no longer in New York, and I start to take my phone out of my pocket to call you, and he flips his shit. He grabs my phone and dunks it in a glass of water, and starts saying that if I use the phone on the flight, our flight will crash.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. Now I’m phoneless, but I’m not really mad. Honestly, I thought it was funny in the moment. My memory’s a little blurry, but I feel like we laughed ‘till we landed.”

“Please tell me that the crazy events end here.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Steve chuckled.

“Christ, Steve.”

“So we get off the plane and at this point, I realize that Bruce must’ve left before we boarded. I don’t even blame him. This trip probably would’ve made me Hulk-out too. Anyway, we take an Uber to our hotel. Our poor Uber driver, he was so starstruck and excited to have Avengers in his car, but like, everyone was completely out of it. And to make things worse, Bucky threw up in the back.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. It’s only a matter of time before tabloids get ahold of that. Remind me to call our PR person in the morning.”

“Got it.”

“We finally get to this hotel, and I guess at some point while I was blacked out, Tony had booked us some penthouse suite at one of those really nice hotels. I can’t really remember how we got up there, but I know it was a struggle. I was just glad to be able to go to sleep in a real bed. By the time I wake up, I desperately need an Advil and a call home. Unfortunately, I can’t have either, since everyone starts insisting that the best way to beat a hangover is to drink more. To be fair, I slept in pretty late. So it’s kind of a reasonable time to drink now. If you consider time zone differences. That aside, I’m sipping on a beer when there’s a knock on the door-“

“I feel like I’ve heard enough of this story.”

“That’s fair.”

“But I’d also like to hear more. But this is stressing me out.”

“I made it back in one piece, what more do you want from me?”

“I want you to get a new friend group,” you whined.

“Is it bad that I want the same for myself?”

“I think that’s perfectly reasonable.”

“Okay, so back to the knock on the door. I’m getting a little nervous, because I specifically told the guys no strippers. That was just a can of worms I didn’t want to open. And I think there’s gonna be a stripper at the door, but nope. Who opens the door? Fucking Loki. I don’t know why they came, or how they found us, but they were ready to party. Suffice it to say I do not remember the majority of that day. All I can say is that there was way too much gambling happening, and if I found out that Tony is filing for bankruptcy, I would not be surprised.”

“That is… wow.”

“I’ll give you one more thing before you go to sleep. Someone got married to a stranger. They’re gonna get it annulled but.. I did attend a wedding ceremony where an Elvis impersonator was the officiant,” Steve leaned over to his bedside table and turned off the lamp that was dimly illuminating the room. “Goodnight.”

“You are such an asshole! You don’t get to leave me on a cliffhanger like that.”

“I need you to be excited and engaged for when I finish my story tomorrow!”

“Fair,” you huffed and snuggled closer to your fiancée.

“Was it Sam?” you asked after a moment of silence.

Steve quietly laughed at you instead of responding.

“Nope. It was definitely Bucky. I’m right, right?” you pressed.

More silence from Steve.

“No way. Thor?”

His snickers became louder at this, and you gasped.

“I said I’ll tell you in the morning.”

“I don’t like when you keep secrets from me,” you prompted, trying to guilt trip your partner.

“Fine. It was Thor. But that’s all you’re getting from me for now.”

“Oh my god. Why wasn’t my bachelorette party as exciting as yours?”

[dogbearinggifts]

What are your thoughts on tua S2? Did you feel like the characters grew? What did you like? What did you not? I’m interested in your perspective. Your analysis are super thoughtful and interesting!

Aw, thanks, Anon!

Overall, I really enjoyed S2 and thought it was a solid follow-up to S1. I do have my quibbles about it, so I think (for ease of reference and because my thoughts are a little scattered today) I’ll list some of my personal highlights (in no particular order) before getting into what I didn’t like as much.

Big spoilers ahead.

Allison. I thought they handled her storyline especially well. Of all the siblings, I think she had the most difficult obstacles placed in her way (not only is she a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas, but she’s a Black woman landing in 1961 Dallas who can’t even speak in her own defense for a year) and they sugarcoated exactly none of it. The writers pulled no punches when showing what civil rights protesters went through, which just made their nonviolent response all the more breathtaking. Allison’s fear and anger during those scenes were palpable even as she kept them hidden. But along with that horror, we see the kindness and warmth of the Dallas Black community, the women who take her in simply because she needs their help, and her love for Ray, perhaps heretofore THE most thoughtful husband ever portrayed on screen. I loved him, and I loved him and Allison together. While I understand and respect his choice to stay in 1963, I wish they’d gotten more time together. They both deserved it.

Vanya. We got to see how much the baggage from her past affected her by glimpsing what she might be like if it were taken away. It’s an interesting philosophical question, and it was explored well, in my opinion. She finds it easier to love and be loved, and she stands up for herself more readily—but she also doesn’t hesitate to use powers she can’t quite control and threatens Five without fully realizing how dire her threat is (or how it might dredge up traumatic memories she doesn’t know exist). The moment where Ben finds her curled up, fully convinced she’s a monster, was heartbreaking. I loved watching her find happiness with Sissy, even if that was fleeting (and dear god, Sissy deserved her happy ending with Vanya, dammit, I don’t care if it would fuck up the timeline). Her patience and sweetness with Harlan were just beautiful. And the way she used the confidence she gained during her amnesia to fully come into her own not to exact revenge on her siblings, but to save them, was fucking phenomenal.

The humor. There was a lot more humor this season, and it was awesome. So many iconic scenes—Olga Foroga, Luther babysitting two homicidal Fives, Elliot awkwardly lecturing his guests on the history of Jello, “NEW TIMELINE NEW ME,” “Your vagina needs glasses,” AJ the fish gobbling up the cigarette bubbles, Five getting to say “fuck”….this season was a lot funnier than the previous one, and I think that was one of its strengths.

Klaus’ cult. It was played for laughs, which I both expected and thought was the best way to handle it. He didn’t want to start a new religion with himself at the center; he just wanted to not get thrown out of any more diners, but Destiny’s Children had other ideas. The “I too am a fraud!” scene was hilarious and tickled the question of whether or not a religion founded on false pretenses can still help those within it find meaning.

Luther. Getting him away from his dad, his siblings, and the Academy was exactly what he needed to become the pure of heart and dumb of ass genius we always knew he was, but his first major step in that direction was heartbreaking. We all knew he’d be rejected once he got to the Academy. We all knew Reginald would rip his heart out and stomp on it in his admittedly fashionable shoes. It gets Luther out on his own and forces him to become his own person apart from his dad, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. He got the positive character development he needed, but the catalyst was tragic.

Diego. We see, for the first time, exactly how Reginald kept him in line—not with meds or with PTSD-inducing torture, but with words. Even when he knows Diego as little more than a stranger, Reginald is able to rip off his skin and fling it in his face with a single diatribe; and even at 30, with years away from his dad, Diego is left unable to speak, feeling as if all of his accomplishments up to that point were the work of a dumb kid who thought he was smarter and more capable than he actually was.

Luther and Diego sharing a braincell. Luther has bad ideas. Diego has bad ideas. When they put their bad ideas together, they get terrible ideas. I loved watching them work together as a team, rather than being at each others’ throats for most of the season, even if I’m left hoping Olga Foroga had a pleasant and quiet day after that phone call.

Reginald. At first glance, it may look like the writers were trying to make him likable so they could parade him around as your average abusive-parent-with-a-soft-side. But it’s more nuanced than that. Abusive parents (and abusers in general) often fly under the radar because they fool outsiders into thinking they’re good people. They’re active in their communities. They give to charity. They have friends who attest to their virtue, significant others who think they’re the greatest. And that’s what we see with Reginald. We see him as the rest of the world did: an intelligent, eccentric man with a sharp sense of humor who cared deeply about scientific advancement. That’s how he evaded suspicion—because there were stories from years past of lively parties at his mansion, of what a gentleman he was to Grace and of how he did everything he could to save little Pogo. But those stories would all have come from people he considered his equals. When he’s with people he considers his inferiors—aka, the Umbrella kids—he’s openly condescending and demeaning. We get to see how he fooled the world, and it is chilling.

Elliot. He deserved better, and you can ship him with any one of the Hargreeves kids and get the cutest thing ever. 

The Swedes. They said so much while speaking very little.

Ben. He got more personality and screen time, and it was glorious. His love of his family and resentment toward Klaus practically leapt off the screen. The way he says “I’ve missed you all…so much” once they’ve all left was one of those right-in-the-feels moments; and watching him get so much of what he’s wanted for years when he possesses Klaus was beautiful.

Now, as for things I took issue with….

Ben. I understand why they ended his arc the way they did. I get that they were probably afraid the Klaus/Ben dynamic would grow stale if they didn’t change it somehow and wanted to give him a larger role in S3. His death(???) was heartbreaking and extremely well-done. But it also wasn’t foreshadowed. We never got any sense of what ghosts in the TUA ‘verse are, so the fact they can be destroyed by a ton of sound-turned-energy or by going too far into someone’s psyche or whatever happened….it’s not that it doesn’t make sense so much as there’s not enough evidence to determine whether or not it makes sense. It feels like the writers just kinda made that up so they’d have a reason to change Ben’s relationship dynamics, but if that’s the case, couldn’t they have done it another way? Couldn’t they have made it so the immense energy or psychic woo-woo or whatever gave him a power-up instead of destroying him? Vanya transferred some of her energy into Harlan and brought him back to life. Couldn’t something similar have happened with Ben? And if it tied him to Vanya as well as to Klaus, great! More fodder for angst and humor! (”Vannyyyyyyyy, stop hogging Ben!” “You got him for 17 years, Klaus, you can part with him for 20 minutes.” “Guys, don’t I get a say in this?”) I’m glad they didn’t write him out of the series entirely, but I still wish they’d kept him and all the character development he’d gotten throughout S2.

Episode 10. It looks like they tried to cram half a season’s worth of developments into 45 minutes. Twenty minutes in, I’d already said “Wait what the fuck” half a dozen times. A lot of those moments were explained later on, and I was able to make enough inferences to fill in any lingering plot holes, but…still. Too much stuff, too little time. E9 was a perfectly satisfying ending to the season. Yes, it leaves the siblings stranded in 1963, but they could’ve tied up those loose ends in the S3 premiere.

Lila. She’s an incredibly fun character, but her arc is kind of a mess. Most of that is due to E10, and I do feel that more time to let her arc breathe would’ve worked wonders, but I’m left feeling like her turn from “Handler is the best mom ever and I lurve Diego too” to “KILL DIEGO AND HIS EVIL FAMILY” to “Handler is a bad mom and Diego is right” happened too quickly.

The Commission. Okay, so, the Handler announces the entire Board has been killed, and she’s stepping in as director even though everyone appears to know she’s been demoted (and demoted pretty severely—she went from having an office bigger than some apartments to being a case management drone). There’s suspicion and lots of it. But then, La Resistance is….ten or so people in a single room? And when she calls the temps agents to her side, thousands of them show up ready and willing to fight and die? I dunno. Just seems like there should’ve been more splintering going on there. Again, I think they needed more time to tie everything up.

Aside from those complaints, I loved the season. I set aside most of a day to binge it, and I do not regret that decision at all.

[charming-charlie]

Washed Away pt. 3

Title // Washed Away pt. 3

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Teeny tiny swears, fear of dying/drowning/losing loved ones. Dead bodies unfortunately.

Summary // Who knew hanging out with Buck and Christopher for a day would lead to a life or death situation?

Word Count // 2.1k

Prompt // Hi! Can i request a fic where you were with Buck & Christopher when the tsunami hit? They could be dating or crushing on each other. If nothing comes to mind, then it’s completely fine to ignore this request! Have a nice day!’

Author’s Note // This is Part 3 of the Washed Away series. || Part 1 || Part 2

Tagged List // @aprildecker-blog​ @coffeewithoutcaffeine​ @daddysfavoritesexkitten​ @chenfordlove​ @comeasyoudar​ @carnationworld​ // If you want to be added or removed from the tagged list, please drop a note.

“I guess we are going to hang out here a little bit longer,” Buck said gently. He kept his voice smooth and low, and you knew it was to keep both you and Christopher calm.

The water was slowing down. The waves, while present, were no longer rapid and threatening. Still, you didn’t feel comfortable moving, and neither did Buck. He held onto Christopher with one arm and keeping the other next to you. It was extremely comforting having him there, despite everything that was going on.

Too bad it was suddenly short-lived.

“HELP!” a woman suddenly screamed, somewhere away from the firetruck.

Buck immediately sat up at attention and looked around. His arm slipped out of your grip and you instantly felt a sense of dread as you followed his eyesight. Just once you wanted a moment with him, just once.

Buck slowly started to stand up, staring eagle-eyed at the damage before him. He was scanning the area, sweeping his eyes left and right in search of a body to go with the voice. What was once a road full of cars and people was now a river, and there didn’t appear to be any end in sight.

“Help me!” the voice screamed again, and you knew you weren’t going crazy.

Buck was at attention, his ears trained for all sorts of desperate cries for help. There was a woman waving for aid in the water, screaming for help. You stared in horror, knowing exactly what she was feeling in that moment. The fear that this could be the end…

No, Y/N. Let’s not think about that right now. You’re fine.

“Chris, um… I need you to sit right here for me with Y/N. You promise me?” Buck crouched down to reach Christopher’s line of sight; his tone was serious.

“Yes,” Christopher said.

You wanted to shake your head and forbid Buck from leaving the firetruck. Forbid? Really?

He seemed to sense your fear and apprehension and he turned to face you. If it weren’t for the immediate danger that you were facing, you knew you would be leaping into his arms like a knockoff Disney princess, but it wasn’t that easy. It was very, very difficult to even think about letting him out of your sight, and here he was, being a damn prince and diving into the face of danger.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he looked at you, frowning slightly, like he almost didn’t believe his own words, “watch Christopher for me. Please.”

The woman was still screaming for help and Buck couldn’t wait another second. He reached for your hand and you held it tightly, but it slipped out of your grip before you even had a chance to hold on.

The ex-firefighter did what he did best. He grabbed the ladder and catapulted it off the truck so that it formed a bridge between the truck and a pile of what appeared to be a random island of cars and vehicles. Was that stable? It didn’t look very stable.

He had the firehose piled on his shoulder to use as a rope and he began walking across the very unsafe ladder bridge. You were watching him, entranced by his knowledge of survival skills, but your breath was caught in the back of your throat with each step he took. There were more than a few times where the ladder shook unevenly below his feet and he had to steady himself by putting his arms out to the side like a tightrope walker. Watching this scene was painful and yet you couldn’t look away.

He had to jump into the water to reach the woman and you lost sight of him after that. Your heart was pounding erratically in your chest and for a second you thought you wouldn’t know what to do without Evan Buckley in your life. Damn, Y/N, is this really where your mind is going?

She was still screaming for help and you saw a flash of Buck’s orange shirt climbing over one of the cars to reach her. You would’ve let out a sigh of relief but nothing about this situation was relieving.

Christopher grabbed you by the pant leg and tugged on it. Immediately you turned your attention to the little boy, feeling the beginnings of a heart attack. Was he okay?

He seemed to be. He was smiling a little, probably having no idea just how dangerous the situation was. Oh, what it must be like to be a kid, naïve and unaware of things.

“Is Buck okay?” Christopher asked. There was a slight uncertainty to his voice, and you were surprised from catching it. Maybe Christopher knew exactly what was happening all along.

You turned your head to find Buck, but you lost him again. And… there was that panic building up once more.

“Hey, I need you to let go! Let go! You’re doing great!”

You heard his voice shouting over the waves and it took a few minutes to find him in the water. Apparently, he used the hose like a rope, just as you predicted, by tying the other end to a tree and letting a woman swim towards it and grab on. It was such an impressive maneuver, something you would never have thought of in a million years.

He grabbed the flailing woman and used the rope sort of like a zip line back to the truck. You jumped to action, reaching over the edge of the truck and helping her up. She landed on the roof with a bit of a thud and your hand reached for Buck’s to help him up next.

The moment he touched your hand, the two of you froze in fear, staring at each other with bated breath.

There were more cries for help. A lot more.

He turned to look behind him and you looked straight ahead, past him. Many people were swimming to the truck, calling for help, waving their arms for attention.

Buck’s hand slipped out of yours and you tried not to notice. When were you finally going to have your moment with him? It was scaring you inside, how dependent you suddenly became on him. It wasn’t the fact that he saved you, no. It was before that. And now, there was a possibility that you two might not live through this. You hoped it was a small possibility, but it was still there. And you needed that moment with him, a moment to show him, thank him, and appreciate him for everything he has done to enrich the quality of your life. You need that moment before it is too late.

“Watch him,” Buck said as he looked at you, pointing to Christopher.

You nodded, letting him know he could count on you. You couldn’t say anything. Your voice was frozen in your throat and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

Buck clung to the hose bridge he made, and the other tsunami victims grabbed on. They half shimmied, half swam, down the hose to the truck and you were helping every single person on board. Occasionally, you would glance at Christopher, who was fine. The woman, the first one Buck saved, was next to the little boy and keeping a firm eye on him, allowing you to focus on helping the others onto the roof of the emergency vehicle.

Within minutes, the roof filled up and people were saved. Buck was the last one on board, and he flopped down, gasping for breath. You had no idea the amount of adrenaline it must’ve taken him, but yours was also wearing off. You felt exhausted, numb, and just downright over this whole thing.

He sat next to Christopher and you sat next to him, just like before everyone had to go play hero. It felt normal, and you thought that was weird. This shouldn’t be normal, none of it should, but it was. At least for now.

“You amaze me, buddy,” Buck said to Christopher. His hand reached for yours and you grabbed it instinctively as Buck turned to face you. “And you amaze me too.”

If it weren’t for the insane flooding and sitting on a firetruck boat, you knew your heart would be skipping beats left and right. Was this the moment?

“Oh, no. Do you see that?”

“Look over there.”

The other people in the truck started speaking up, softly at first, but enough to grab your attention along with Buck. Cool, this was not the moment.

You weren’t prepared for what you saw. Dead bodies started floating down and Buck immediately turned to Christopher and tried to distract the boy from seeing them. He picked Christopher up and sat him on the edge of the truck so that his back was facing the bodies as they floated down the watery road.

Your hand was on Buck’s shoulder to steady yourself as you tried to look away. You dealt with dead people often, it was part of your job as a nurse. But this… this was different. The people in the water shouldn’t be dead, and that’s what made the whole situation sick.

Buck’s smile turned into a frown as he watched the victims float on by, and he turned back to look at you. There was something unreadable in his eyes.

The horrible moment passed, and people took their spots back on the roof. Christopher, Buck, and you sat in your usual section toward the front of the truck and for now, you just waited.

“I don’t know what I’m going to tell your father,” Buck spoke up, speaking to Christopher, “I take you out one time and uh… look what happens.”

“You saved me,” Christopher said in reply, like he didn’t have to think about it, “you saved Nurse Y/N, and you saved them.”

The crowd of people on the roof of the truck were waiting, looking around, being quiet, but the gesture was clear enough. Buck definitely did something remarkable today and you were hoping he saw it. You hoped he saw just how amazing he was and how brave, heroic, and daring his decisions were to save everybody on the truck. Hell, he saved you, and that’s not something you plan to let slip from his memory. You owed him your life at this point.

“No,” Buck said, and he turned to look at you, talking to both you and Christopher at the same time, “we did that together. Me and you make a great team.”

Christopher moved in and hugged Buck, and the ex-firefighter wasted no time hugging the little boy back. Using his other arm, he pulled you into the hug as well, and it was nice. A small group hug with the three of you.

And then…

All the sudden, the water was rising and splashing around the truck. Harsh waves crashed against the truck, pushing against it. The vehicle lopped and shook within the water, feeling unstable for the first time. Trash and various items were scratching against the sides, sending piercing screeches to your sensitive ears.

Buck was on his feet quickly. He watched what was going on with eagle eyes, staring hard. It was like his brain was calculating the best course of action, but too much was happening too soon, and he couldn’t land on a solution quick enough.

People started falling off the truck and into the water.

Buck, gripping Christopher with one arm and you with the other, yelled at people to get down. Seeking shelter was the best course of action but it was hard to hear him over the waves.

It felt like another tsunami, another surge.

A man screamed for help, someone who had fallen overboard. You quickly rushed to the side, and Buck was right behind you. You held out your hand to reach for the man, Buck was holding onto you so that you wouldn’t fall in. You don’t know what propelled you to act this way, but you did. Instinct took over. You grabbed him, pulled him out of the water, and Buck moved next to you to help you. Together, the two of you heaved the man onto the hood of the firetruck.

But something happened.

Something crashed into the truck, so quick and powerful, that your grip on the man was broken and he fell back into the harsh rapids. Buck’s first response was to grab you firmly so that you wouldn’t fall in after him. Thankfully you didn’t but a certain realization hit you soon enough.

Both of you scrambled off the hood of the truck and looked at the people remaining.

Christopher wasn’t there. The little boy was nowhere in sight.

[herglowinggirl]

Hello, familiar anon here, I didn't ask the question about an SOK ending where Yun lives and gains redemption. I also wouldn't mind having my own tag. I haven't found any other evidence of Yun shipping Kyoshi and Rangi outside of "The Boy From Makapu". How does Kyoshi view Yun later in her life( up to the first year after "The Meeting", creating Kyoshi Island nearly 25 years later, the last years of her life)? Would Kyoshi ever mention or talk about Yun after the events of The Shadow of Kyoshi?

hello! and yes I have some thoughts on this and how it would impact the advice Kyoshi gave to Roku and Aang. this got long but I’d love to break down parts of it to write fic, which I think I will do and perhaps post before Kyoshi Fortnight. But I digress, it’s long enough that I have decided to use subtitles. If anything skip to the end about the advice she gave Roku and Aang I think it’s most relevant to what I want to say and also my favorite part.

what I talk about under the cut: the ways I believe yun’s death would impact kyoshi’s actions after tsok and what the advice she gave aang and roku actually means (my thoughts on “only justice will bring peace” means)

would kyoshi talk about yun during her lifetime?

Yes. First off, it would be impossible to avoid him in the political landscape, because it is mentioned that he passed lots of judgements and signed treaties, ect. Although Kyoshi has grown in her leadership style and it’s turned a little (a lot) anti-establishment, she would still need to deal with the fallout of Yun not being the Avatar, because there would be a need to re-sign treaties and settle disputes with people seeking to take advantage of others now that the Avatar has “changed” would have to be dealt with and in tandem, Yun’s legacy.

But also, in a duology that features grief, I find it a natural continuation of the narrative that Yun would be mourned. You don’t stop knowing or loving someone after they pass, and I feel like mourning all of Yun—the boy he was, where he came from, his legacy, the decisions he made, the impact he had on the people around him, even how he hurt people—is only natural and is slightly unavoidable. I think Kyoshi mourns all of her deceased loved ones. 

Just, like the concept of this: she’s always hated pai sho but now when she faces a board in her gut and in her throat things feel wrong because it reminds her of what Yun had to do to survive. A breeze smells like the flour and air Kelsang sent into her face the moments before everything changed. She collects pebbles that Lek would’ve liked. Rangi brings her fire lilies for an anniversary and she starts crying. She sings songs with Wong that were her parent’s favorites that coincidentally, Kelsang knew too.

community in grief and kyoshi’s relationships

He was Rangi’s friend, too. Auntie Mui and Hei-Ran are sure to mourn him in their own ways. In tSoK Kyoshi calls her team Avatar a group of contradictions and misfits and in his way, Yun was too. The false Avatar. What a title! 

A continuation of the concept: Rangi and Kyoshi remind each other of him every day for a while, swapping stories about him when it gets to be too much, making eye contact when they can hear his voice making light of something stupid an official has said. Hei-Ran makes her do drills she made Yun do. Auntie Mui makes his favorite dish on his birthday that they do not pass in silence, because then what would they be, that group of misfits, to forget another outcast? If they don’t mourn the boy from Yokoya who will mourn them, or who would’ve mourned them if they hadn’t been so lucky? Who will care for the beggars and orphans of the world if not the Avatar who was once one of them and her companions? In a way, the retribution and pain of it all is justice for the life that Kyoshi took. Like, there’s just so much to unpack in the way she says “Was I right about anything at all? What will they say about me? Avatar Kyoshi, who killed her friend because she couldn’t save him?” But I don’t think her guilt would silence her. 

That being said, Yun was fundamentally a victim of a system that failed him. The same one that failed Kyoshi. In another way, her actions are justice on a world that failed her and her best friend and the similarities they shared, and she’s able to take those actions because of the way that Yun impacted her, for better or for worse. So yes, I think during her lifetime, she would speak of Yun and who he was, not letting people forget the ways they (and she) failed him and how easily everyone wants to forget their failure. It brings me to the way she was so angry with the Earth Kingdom establishment for discarding him and trying to hide history away. I don’t think she’d ever do that, even if she did...uh, dispatch him.

kyoshi, immortality, and her role as an avatar

I’d like to turn to two passages:

Kyoshi: “The way you describe it, you’d have to decide what version of yourself you’d be stuck as, forever.”

Lao Ge: “Exactly! Those who grow, live and die. The stagnant pool is immortal, while the clear flowing river dies an uncountable number of deaths.”

and

In the future, perhaps, she’d become finalized like carved stone. It would be easier to deal with the world then. She could only hope.

[...]

She still had to be careful not to lose her balance and fall. Kyoshi kept her eyes focused on her difficult path, sometimes stumbling but making sure to catch herself, taking one step at a time.

This isn’t directly related to what I think she would say, but more about how she lets her experiences, and therefore, her experiences and relationship with Yun, affect who she is. Here, F.C. Yee is detailing the person we see in her cameo in A:tLA. It’s a testament to her growth, yes, but also to how she lived so long. She’s allowed to grow now, while she’s young and still learning. But eventually Kyoshi’s growth will wane, leaving us with the iron woman we saw in A:tLA. 

Remember when I said I would call F.C. Yee a sap for the very last Kyoshi POV line? It’s the last sentence in my second excerpt, is that Kyoshi is allowing herself make mistakes. It’s pretty obviously a little deeper than the concept of walking down a slope: She became one of the most revered Avatars, we know how her story ends, if not lots of the in-betweens, but F.C. Yee tells us right here in that sentence. She changed and she learned. 

I think, however, that eventually she had to pick a place to stop in order to stop aging. If I had to pick a point where she became “immortal” I’d pick Rangi’s peaceful and timely death surrounded by her loved ones on Yokoya (not Kyoshi Island since I’m going to maintain that her A;tLA cameo was “immortal” Kyoshi) and I think Lao Ge killed her—or at least convinced her to let go.

further thoughts on her longevity: rangi’s role and future

Ok before anybody comes into my inbox like “um zey herglowinggirl I need you to know that actually Rangi also lived to 230 😌″ because I understand the sentiment it’s more like here’s what I’d like to discuss: Kyoshi can’t be immortal around Rangi because Rangi is in so many ways her catalyst for growth. First off, it would be completely out of character for Rangi to be immortal, because she’s constantly moving and being and feeling and judging and that changes her. Positive jing. And Lao Ge says it: “those who grow, live and die.” Rangi believes in the best and strives for the best, for perfection. For Kyoshi to freeze herself and become immortal, that would require picking an imperfect state. And as we know, Sei’naka women do not accept imperfection 😤. 

Although Rangi promises to always be by Kyoshi’s side, I think in the latter years of Kyoshi’s live it’s more like the impact that Rangi has had on her in that frozen state. That voice of Rangi’s is part of Kyoshi in those years. However, without Rangi, it is unlikely that Kyoshi will always or commonly choose to act on it. It’s stated multiple times throughout the novels that Rangi is Kyoshi’s center and that she doesn’t know who she’d be without Rangi, but I think the logical conclusion is immortal. With Rangi’s death she becomes her own center by stopping her growth; with Rangi’s death she just becomes...that stone she was talking about, where it does get easier to make decisions because you’re not striving to constantly change and grow. It’s almost a coping mechanism, if you will. Because Kyoshi is more than Rangi, can function without Rangi, it’s just not necessarily pretty.

lao ge’s role and future

Which brings me to my “in my personal version of canon Lao Ge kinda maybe killed Kyoshi” point. Rangi is in no way Kyoshi’s morality, but she is very much the idealistic ‘better’ half. With this catalyst of hope and change gone, I think back to the creation of the Dai Li—it very much sounds to me like something Jianzhu would do. Kyoshi, who had previously been the breakdown of negotiations, created a secret op police force? 

I think the moment Kyoshi started being the establishment, the moment she was the band-aid instead of the solution (much like Yun was, hint hint) Lao Ge would’ve paid her a visit. Either this or the creation of the Dai Li created a catalyst for perhaps an existential crisis, perhaps just being tired, perhaps simply knowing what is best...Kyoshi is, and always will be, a sworn criminal who cannot uphold the law, only her own judgements. She is both the law and the breaking and bending of it, and when she loses this balance when Rangi falls from her side and she becomes her own rock I think it would swing her away from her center, and this is where she becomes immortal. Eventually, it would become enough of an issue for people to intervene and tell her that her time as an Avatar is coming to an end. 

advice to future avatars

This is my favorite point and I’ll tie it back to Yun in just a second. I have posted about thinking about the impact of Yun’s death on Kyoshi and how that would’ve impacted her legacy and the advice she gave Roku and Aang before. Honestly what strikes me is how proud Kyoshi would be of Aang. The way that each Avatar must learn to forge their own way and become their own person and what their era needs, balancing themselves, is something so lovely. I think Kyoshi would’ve absolutely loved how Aang took the advice of his predecessors and said “no, I know what would be better for me,” and I think post-tSoK Kyoshi, who has learned she has to forge her own way and style as a leader, would love and be so proud of him for that. 

However, that doesn’t mean that her advice doesn’t have weight. I think mainly her “immortal” phase would perhaps have an impact on the way Yun impacts her advice. I think “only justice will bring peace” also speaks to the finality of death. Just like immortality, death keeps growth from happening. “only justice will bring peace” is also a nod to the way you must learn to cope with your actions and the way you feel about them. It’s also about Aang’s inner peace, which is something I don’t think I’ve ever seen mentioned. Everyone always wants to talk about what he should’ve done and how Kyoshi was right because she told Aang about her choice to let Chin die, but I think she actually guided him to the idea that you should be ok with yourself. To be confident in what you do and take up responsibility for your actions. Kyoshi wasn’t telling him murder was good. She was telling him she owned up to her actions and chose to make those decisions as an Avatar. To me, this finality speaks of growth after Yun’s death and the end of tSoK. She has grown and then frozen, but that means she has changed.

And although I don’t have an answer for what advice she might’ve given Roku, I think it’s a good way to interpret this. The only thing keeping Kyoshi from being honest about Yun’s death is the fact that Zoryu has “Yun” locked up. I think this is likely one of her biggest regrets, that she cannot be honest and responsible for something that weighs so heavily on her soul. This, I think, guides her advice. Only justice will bring peace. Now that I’ve thought it out, perhaps it wasn’t Lao Ge, and perhaps it was the idea that Yun had never been done justice and perhaps that turmoil never changed, which made her long-lived but not quite immortal. She cannot quite know the peace of death nor of life.

I think she must’ve told Roku that no matter what, he must accept the consequences of what he does. He’s not willing to loose that friendship and I think Kyoshi would’ve understood that, and the questions Roku would’ve had to pose himself as an Avatar. That is Kyoshi’s advice. Only justice, true justice in the form of accountability and self-actualization as a leader, will allow you to make good decisions. The acceptance of this: that whatever he does, he must be willing to accept it’s legacy, learn from it, and teach the next Avatar just as she let Yun’s death affect her leadership and what she taught. And I think that’s probably incredibly poetic, even if I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. 

[onlyfreds]

TRP Prologue - Welcome to the Story of Y/N L/N

Summary: To others, being princess is living the dream. To Y/N, it’s a living nightmare. But, that was until the day that she received the letter that changed her life and met the people who love her for her true self.

Warning/s: use of the word “damn”

Series Masterlist

Anybody else would think that being the first-born Princess is literally living the dream.

Let me tell you, it’s not.

“Y/N, put down the book and head downstairs for the Family portrait.” My mother, Queen Ahnica, snapped as she entered my room.

I sighed, placing a bookmark on the page I was currently reading, “Do we honestly have to do this mother? We already did this last year.”

She glared at me, “Do you always have to ask? Now stop this nonsense and give them a smile when we get down. We don’t want the press giving a bad image, don’t we?”

I mentally rolled my eyes as I followed her out of the room, “Yes mother.”

We headed down to the lounge where the royal photographer, my father (King Michael), and my younger sister (Princess Christel) were waiting for us.

I sat down beside my sister, who gave me a sympathetic smile as she placed her hand on top of mine.

“Don’t worry.” She reassured, “This’ll all be over in a minute.”

And boy did that minute feel like an hour.

When we had finished, Clark, our chief of staff approached us.

“Your highnesses,” he greeted, giving a small bow, “There is someone wanting to see you.”

My mother and father exchanged a confused look, before we followed Clark into the guest lounge.

Standing there was a middle-aged woman, her hair in a tight bun and a stern but gentle look on her face.

“Good day Mr. and Mrs. L/N, or should I say your highnesses.” She said, giving a curtsy,

My father smiled, “Good day Ma’am. What assistance could we offer you?”

The woman chuckled, “My name is McGonagall and I’m just here to give your daughter, Princess Y/N, a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

I looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time, “Me?”

My sister looked at me excitedly.

The woman nodded, handing me an envelope with the words, Princess Y/N L/N, Montenaro Palace.

Christel nudged my shoulder, “Go on, open it.” She encouraged.

I opened it and pulled out the letter inside.

Dear Mr/Ms. L/N,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

I looked up again at the woman, my parents were both stunned into silence, “Am I really going to learn magic?”

McGongall nodded, “Indeed dear, and at the best wizarding school Britain has to offer.”

“But magic isn’t real.” My mother interjected.

McGonagall brought out a thin, stick and with a small wave of her hand, bubbles erupted from it. She then pointed to a teacup on a nearby table, turning it into a teapot.

“So magic is real?” Christel asked in awe.

McGonagall nodded, “It is.”

I turned to my parents as I gave them a pleading look, “Please mum, dad. Can I go.”

My parents exchanged a silent argument before my father said, “You may go. But if this is some sort of scam. You will regret dragging my daughter into this.”

The woman nodded, “You will regret nothing your highness.”

She then turned to me, “I’ll be meeting up with you next week to get your school supplies.”

As soon as she left, my mother turned to my father, “How could you let her? She’s ten! She should be attending finishing school, not some sort of magic school with a bunch of idiots!”

My father sighed, “We’ve taught her everything that she could be taught in finishing school ever since she was five. She’ll be fine.”

--

When September first rolled around, McGonagall brought me to King’s Cross Station and she had instructed me how to board on to Platform 9 and 3/4. Thankfully, I was able to leave before my parents realized that I was wearing “normal” clothes. Because if they did, I would’ve received a full lecture about maintaining an image for the press.

To be honest, jeans and a shirt were a lot more comfortable than a corset and a gown.

At first, I thought it was absurd. But after seeing the serious look on her face, I decided to give it the benefit of the doubt and run into the barrier in between Platforms 9 and 10.

I closed my eyes, braced myself for impact. But a cold chill came over me before I heard the chatter of a lively crowd, I opened my eyes, seeing a red and black train with a sign that said, Hogwarts Express.

A hopped onto the train, looking for a spare compartment. I didn’t expect anyone to recognize me as the princess, and I wish they wouldn’t.

I found a compartment that was occupied by two identical looking gingers.

I gently knocked on the compartment door, sliding it open a bit before asking, “Excuse me, but is it okay if I sat here? Everywhere else was full.”

One of them nodded, “Of course you may. I’m George by the way.” He said, offering his hand with I shook, giving him a small smile.

He then nodded to the boy sitting opposite of him, “That’s my twin brother, Fred.”

Fred stared at me, his mouth slightly agape, “Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous.”

I bit my lip, feeling my cheeks heat up as Fred was snapped out of his trance by George laughing.

“Oh, sorry.” He apologized, grinning sheepishly.

I giggled, “It’s fine.”

The three of us bonded over the train ride and became fast friends.

Despite the fact that Fred and George were identical twins, I had absolutely no trouble telling them apart, though something about Fred made my heart race a bit faster and the butterflies to rise up to my stomach.

--

It’s been three years since I first met the twins. I was now in my fourth year at Hogwarts.

Before I headed down to the Great Hall for Lunch, I adjusted the necklace I was wearing.

Once I arrived, I immediately slipped into the seat between the twins.

Hermione took a sip of her pumpkin juice, looking up from her book, “Where did you get that?”

I looked at her, slightly confused, “Where did I get what?”

“That necklace.”

I looked down and realized that I wasn’t able to hide my necklace in my blouse properly.

“My mum gave it to me.” I managed to stutter out.

“Why? What’s wrong with her necklace?” Ginny asked, “It seems alright to me.”

Everyone in our group was watching me and Hermione, obviously interested in the exchange.

“Well, it’s not just any necklace.” Hermione stated, “There’s only one necklace like that.”

Fred chuckled, “Hermione, I’m sure that necklace is one of billions.”

“No.” She insisted, “There is only one necklace like that and it belongs to the first-born princess of Montenaro.”

She stared at me intently, I could almost see the gears turning in her brain. Besides, she was called the “brightest witch of her age” for a reason.

“Oh Godric!” She gasped and I knew she had come to her conclusion, “What was your last name again?” She asked.

I sighed, “L/N.”

“How did I not notice it before?” She said, most likely to herself, “It makes so much sense now.”

“Hermione, not all of us are geniuses here. So, mind catching us up on what exactly makes sense?” Harry joked.

“The reason why Y/N has that necklace, even though it’s super rare, is because she is the first-born princess of Montenaro. She’s part of the L/N family, she’s basically royalty.” Hermione explained excitedly.

The group looked at me for confirmation.

“Is it true love?” Fred asked softly, “You’re a princess?”

I nodded, letting out a quiet, “yes.”

Everyone was dead silent; you would have thought that someone had just dropped dead in front of us.

Angelina was the first one to break the silence, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

I sighed, “I didn’t want you guys to treat me differently. Because when your royalty and others see you, all people can think about is: she’s the princess, she’s next in line for the throne. And being princess, I’m never free. Every decision is made for me, every word, every moved has to be supervised because there’s always some sort of protocol that’s against it. You guys love me and care about me not because I’m the princess. But because you see the real me. You don’t see me as ‘Princess Y/N’, you guys see me as just Y/N.”

I felt Fred hold my hand under the table as I continued, “Here, I am able to be myself, without having to worry about the damn rules or the press. That’s why I spend every holiday I could at the Burrow. Because I like being free. Because I’ve felt more at home there that when I’ve spent a portion of my life at the palace. That’s why I kept my identity a secret. I feared that when you guys learned the truth, you would treat me differently.”

Fred and George encased me in a “Weasley twin hug” as the former kissed the top of my head.

“We’ll always love you darling.” He whispered, “Whether you’re royalty or not.”

I smiled, “Really? You’re not mad that I kept all of this a secret?”

George chuckled, “Of course we’re not.”

“Fred’s right. To us, your being a princess is just a title, but what matters is the side of Y/N that you want to show us.” Ginny added.

I laughed as all of them wrapped me in a group hug, “What did I do to deserve friends like you guys.”

Fred laughed, running a hand through my hair, “What did we do to deserve being friends with an actual princess?”

“Way to ruin the moment, Freddie!”

“Did you have to bring it up now?”

The rest of the group chimed as they playfully scolded Fred.

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