#christmas was NOT the time to be found by THREE fake people

[angelringssys]

hey guys (looks dead into the circuit board of a 🤖)

just a reminder that I would SERIOUSLY appreciate it if 🟧⬛ bots, 🌿 bots or literally any bot impersonating people from 🍉 that need ACTUAL HELP to take donations could stop following me 😭😭🙏

like, no,,, I DON'T CARE about your '18+ Freaky Oiled Up No Clothes 🍑😜🍆🍒' discord server, no, I DON'T want to know about your $125 weed sales, and WHY DO SO MANY PEOPLE WITH THE NAME 'Alzan' use the SAME PHRASING WHEN THEY ASK FOR HELP FROM GAZA???

Moral of the story, leave me alone 🥲

[madebycloud]

Ex at Christmas

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you've been invited to spend the christmas with your ex-girlfriend's family. only one problem is that your ex-girlfriend has not told anyone that the relationship is over. (requested by anon) warnings/themes: fluff and angst, found family af, fake dating, ex lovers, christmas, family gatherings, secret santa, everyone is alive and happy au, modern au vi just begging for you to take her back? words: 17.3k.... (i got carried away) notes: it's so long i should've cut it into parts but idk where... so suffer (╥﹏╥) — ✩ part one, part two

As always, the last drop is a lively spot. warm, cozy, and familiar. Colorful lights hang from the ceiling, a decorated tree stands in the corner, a 'merry christmas' painted on the wall, even a few strings of garland have been hung from the low ceiling.

People are crowding around the bar. Some are playing pool, some are simply chatting amongst themselves, cigarette smoke curling up toward the ceiling.

Vander's voice snaps you from your thoughts. “Look who finally showed her face around here.” He reaches over the top of the bar to ruffle your hair.

“I know, I know.” You laugh, swatting his hand away. “Things are just... busy, y'know?” 

Vander rests his forearms on the countertop, leaning closer to you. “Just making sure you're still alive. “Been an awful long while since I last saw you.”

“I've been fine, old man.” 

“Glad to hear you're doing alright kid. Haven't seen you around here in, what, three months? You need to come by more often, keep an old guy company.” He chuckles. “I almost thought you'd vanished.”

“You sound like a grandma with kids that never call.”

Vander grins and winks at you, taking a rag and wiping at the bartop. “You're like a kid to me, so I guess it checks out.”

You scoff but say nothing, leaning against the bartop as your eyes start to travel across the room. A few people mill about that you recognize as regular patrons, but other than that, there's pretty much no one of interest.

Vander snorts and lifts the rag to his shoulder. “We're having our christmas gathering again this year, you should swing by. Just like last christmas, eh?”

A lot has changed for you in the past month, and you've been dreading this coming up. “I... don't know. I don't think so.”

Vander raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean you don't know? Not up to seeing the old gang again?”

“Not exactly,” you murmur, the memory of the breakup is still fresh. It's not that you don't want to see your friends, it's just the idea of seeing Vi again. “It's not that, I just... things have changed, especially recently. I don't want to... accidentally make things awkward or something.”

Vander shakes his head and it almost seems like he's laughing at you. “Why would it be awkward?”

“I don't know…” You sigh, your shoulders slumping in resignation. “Nevermind it, I'm going.”

Your words get a smirk out of Vander, and he reaches over to poke your arm. “That's what I like to hear.” He gives you a wink, folding his arms across his chest. “You better show up or I'll drag you here myself. You know I could.”

“Like I'd let you drag me here, old man—there's no way your back can handle that.”

“Ah, you kids these days have no respect for your elders. You're gonna break my old back and then I'll die,” he pretends to sniffle, making you scoff.

Silco then walks over, looping his arms around Vander's shoulders. The two of them exchange a knowing glance before Silco turns his attention to you. “Look who actually decided to show up.”

Vander laughs as he pats Silco's arm. “Cut the kid some slack. They're just here to have a good time.”

Silco chuckles, his eyes still on you. “So are you coming on Christmas?”

You rub at the back of your neck, and just as you're about to answer, Vander beats you to it. “Yeah, she's coming,” he confirms.

Silco hums, he lifts his arm from off Vander, resting it in his hip instead. “Good, I was beginning to think you were going to weasel your way out of it.”

Vander smacks his shoulder. “Lay off, would ya? let the kid breathe.”

Silco relents and waves his hand dismissively. “I'm just saying.” He looks back at you. “We all want you there, you know. It wouldn't be the same without you.”

Hearing them say that makes you feel guilty for even considering not going. You know they mean it. You just hope it won't be too much awkward with Vi there.

Vander nods and smiles. “He's right, you know. Everyone's been asking about you. They'll be happy to have you there.”

“I get it. You don't have to butter me up, old man.”

Vander chuckles, then he glances over his shoulder, gesturing to a small, unassuming box on a nearby table. “Hey, could you grab that little box over there for me?” Silco smirks and nods before moving to get the box, bringing it over and handing it to Vander.

“What's in the box?” you ask.

Vander grins at you, holding the box in his hands. “We're doing a secret santa,” he explains, “and since you’re coming that means you're participating too.”

Your eyebrows raise to your hairline. You'd completely forgotten about the secret santa. You groan in annoyance, running your hands over your face. “I'm still annoyed I got that whoopee cushion from Powder last year.”

“That was a good one. She was so damn proud of herself too, and besides…” Vander pauses, turning to look at you. “You never know, you might get something less annoying this year.” He then holds the box out to you, a smile on his lips.

There's always the possibility you won't get something shitty, but knowing most of your friends... Yeah, that's unlikely.

You look at the box, then up at Vander. You take the box from him. “I hope you're right, old man.”

Vander chuckles before stepping back to talk to Silco.

You turn the box over in your hands, feeling the weight of it. It's not too heavy, and you feel compelled to shake it. But if you do that, you'll probably end up drawing Vander's name, and that's basically cheating.

Sighing, you decide to just bite the bullet. You take the lid off the box, sticking your hand inside. Your fingers rummage around before they eventually close around a folded piece of paper.

You pull out the slip of paper, unfolding it slowly. You glance at the handwriting, then almost roll your eyes.

Of course you got Vi.

Out of all the names you could have drawn, you get the one person you didn't want to get. You could have gotten literally anyone else. Mylo, Claggor, Powder, Silco, or anyone other than Vi. but no, you had to get your ex. Just your luck.

You look at the note again, and the first thought that comes to your mind is...

Well, crap.

You're so focused on the slip of paper in your hands that you don't notice Vander and Silco peeking over your shoulder.

“So, who'd you get?”

Vander's question makes you jump, you quickly stuff the paper into your pocket before they can see who it is.

“No one,” you say, waving your hand to dismiss the question. “It's not important.”

Silco raises an eyebrow. “Then why are you pocketing the paper?”

“It's a secret for a reason.”

Vander and Silco glance at each other, and you can tell they're silently communicating. 

Vander turns back to you a moment later, rubbing his jaw. “A secret, huh? Well, that means whoever you got won't know it's you.”

Silco hums. “That's probably a good thing.” 

“That's kind of the point of a secret Santa.”

Vander nods, scratches his beard before his lips turn up in a smile. “True means you can give them something real nice.”

Silco glances at Vander before looking at you. “Whoever you got is probably going to be very happy when they get their gift.”

You almost snort at Silco's words. Yeah, right. a gift from you? She’ll probably chuck it straight in the trash.

You run a hand through your hair, trying to shake the thoughts of Vi out of your head. You don't know why you're worried about how she'll react. Why care if she'll like the gift? Why care if she's happy with whatever you get her?

The answer is so obvious, but you don't want to admit it even to yourself.

Vander and Silco are still looking at you, and you realize that you have to say something. Any longer and they might figure it out.

You push those thoughts away. “If they'll actually like it. I'm not the best with gifts.”

“Oh, I'm sure they will,” Silco says, a knowing smirk on his face.

Vander nods. “Just give them something from the heart.”

From the heart, my ass. The only thing you want to give her from the heart is a kick in the ass.

“Because someone's gonna be real happy with something from me.”

Vander and Silco exchange another look again, like they're having an entire conversation without actually saying anything.

You turn away from them, looking out the window. They're probably trying to read your mind, figure out who it is you got. The thought makes your eyes twitch. You don't want them to know. You don't know why, but you really don't want them to know.

“Just do us a favor,” Silco suddenly says, cutting into the silence that had fallen between you. “Try not to stress too hard about it. You'll give yourself gray hairs.”

Vander chuckles at Silco's words, “You'll give us an old heart attack.”

“Ha ha, funny.”

Silco grins at your response. “Well, we're only half-joking.”

Vander's eyes soften. He slaps Silco's shoulder to get him to shut up. “What he means is, you overthink too much,” Vander adds.

Yeah, so what if you overthink? It's a normal thing to do. Especially in situations like this, where you're stuck with the one person you don't want to be.

Why keep thinking about her? You need to stop obsessing over her. She made her choice, and it wasn't you.

You run your fingers to your face, trying to think of something else to distract yourself. It's not like you don't know what you want to get Vi. You just don't know if you should get it.

“I don't overthink,” you grumble, shifting your weight on your feet. 

“Oh yes, you do.”

And they're both right about that. You can't even count how many times you've paced around your apartment, replaying every interaction you had with Vi over and over again in your head. Every word, every touch, and every look. All of it, it's like your brain refuses to let you forget.

You've spent countless nights trying to figure out where you went wrong. What you could have done differently if there was something you could have changed. All of that, just because of one person who tossed you aside without a second thought.

“Listen,” Silco says, snapping you out of your thoughts. You look over at him as he stands up straight, a smirk spreads across his lips. “You're going to drive yourself crazy thinking about something that hasn't even happened yet.”

“He's right,” Vander gives you a look before continuing. “And for the love of God, stop overthinking.”

If only it were that simple. If only you could just switch off your brain and stop thinking about everything. But you know damn well you can't do that. Your thoughts are as uncontrollable as the weather, and right now, they're a mess.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your thoughts. “I should probably go,” you mutter, and the two men nod. 

Vander pats you on the back as you start for the door. “Same place, eh?’ he calls after you. 

“Don't think too hard, kid,” Silco adds.

You give them both a nod as you exit the bar, shutting the door behind you.

Christmas is going to be one hell of a mess this year, you can feel it.

Now all you have to do is figure out how the hell you're going to deal with it.

—

You're standing outside of Vander and Silco’s house, the weight of the present in your hands suddenly feeling a thousand times heavier.

You've replayed this moment in your head countless times, but now that it's happening for real, you're not sure if you're ready.

Christmas music drifts out of the house, it's a familiar tune that you've heard a million times.

You push down the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. You shouldn't be feeling so nervous, it's just a gift. Just a present for a secret santa.

But this isn't just anyone, this is Vi. The one person who you didn't want to get. The one person who broke things off without a second thought.

Stop thinking about this. It's just one night. one stupid night, and then it will be over. You can get through this, you can handle being around Vi for one Christmas. No more thinking about her. No more wondering where you went wrong or if you could have done something to change things. Just get through the night and forget about her.

You take another deep breath, straighten up, and square your shoulders. Then, in one moment, you push open the doors to their house and walk inside.

Your eyes search the room, looking for that familiar pink hair. But you don't see her. Your shoulders relax a little. Maybe she's not here yet. That'll give you a few minutes to brace yourself. No one is around right now, probably in their rooms or preparing for the dinner. 

You were so distracted by looking around that you didn't realize someone was standing right behind you until they grabbed you and spun you around. Your eyes meet their powder blue ones, and your mouth suddenly goes dry.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Woah, hey-” you stumble over your words.

“Don't 'woah hey' me,” she snaps, her grip tightening on your arm.

Vander's deep voice cut in before you could even speak. “You've actually came.”

You feel her look away from you, her hand finally falling from your arm. As soon as it does, you rub the skin where she grabbed you.

Vander looks between the two of you and says, “Hand me the gift, kid. I'll put it there.” He gestures towards a christmas tree where the gifts are already sitting underneath.

You quickly hold the present out for him to take.

He takes it before giving both of you another look. “Go easy with your girlfriend, eh?”

You freeze, your heart stopping as his words register. Your eyes widen as you slowly turn your head to look at Vi.

Girlfriend?

“I will.” Before you can even process what's happening, you're being pulled outside.

You yank your arm back from Vi, quickly putting some distance between the two of you. “What's your problem?”

She spins around and scoffs, looking you up and down. “I should be asking you that. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Vander invited me. He asked me to come.”

“Then you should've said no.”

“Wow? just wow.” You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “I know that things didn't go well between us, but you don't get to push me out of this family. They're my family too, and Vander invited me here to celebrate. I have as much right to be here as you do.”

You refuse to break eye contact with her. “You can ignore me all you want, but you don't get to decide how I'm allowed to spend my Christmas. If you want to keep acting like this, fine. Ignore me, pretend I don't exist, just like you've been doing for the past months.”

Vi lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand on her forehead. “They do not know.”

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

She looks over at the entrance and says, “They all think we're still together.”

Your eyes widen. “What?” you almost shout. “Why the hell would they think that?” “Because I didn't tell them.” She scoffs. “Every time I talk to them, they ask me how you are. Silco and Vander keep making comments about how we make a cute couple. They still think we're together.”

“Why the hell didn't you tell them?” You glare at her. “Were you ever going to?”

“I don't know,” she retorts, throwing her arms up. “They're all so happy about us being together.”

“That's such bullshit,” you snap at her. “That's such a crappy excuse! You should be the one to tell them we broke up.”

She looks away, planting her arm on her hips. “Don't you think I know that?” she shoots back. “It's not that simple. I can't just rip off the bandage like that.”

“Is that it? You’re scared that they'll know?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know how Silco and Vander can get.”

“I know how they get,” you snap back at her. “You're just too much of a pussycat to face them and tell them the truth.”

Her expression hardens, and her jaw clenches. “Look who's talking. You can't even say no to a little family gathering, but here you are.”

“I didn't come here because I wanted to see you. I came for the family, not for you.”

“As if I wanted to see you either. The last thing I wanted was to have to deal with you all night.”

“Fine, you know what? I'll go tell them right now that we broke up. They deserve to know.”

She grabs your wrist before you can take a step towards the door. “Wait”

You look down at her hand, then back up at her. “What?”

“Don't,” she says through gritted teeth. “Just... don't tell them yet.”

You scoff, ripping your arm away from her grip. “Why the hell not? So they can keep thinking we're still together?”

“Just don't tell them tonight. Can you just give me until after Christmas?”

“Why are you still dragging this out? What difference does it make if we wait till then or do it now?”

“Because it's fucking Christmas!” she snaps before dropping her gaze. “Look, it's the holidays. I just... I don't want to ruin Christmas. They've all been looking forward to all of us celebrating together. I don't want to ruin it by spoiling the fun.”

“Wait—let me get this straight. You want to fake it this christmas? Pretend we're still a happy couple?”

She's quiet again. “Yeah,” she whispers, looking down. “Yeah, that's what I'm asking.”

“You're unbelievable, Vi.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep yourself together. “Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You're asking me to pretend like we're still together, to pretend that nothing has changed.”

“It's just one day,” she mumbles. “One day, that's all I'm asking for. We can tell them anytime after that, just not tonight, please.”

She even says please. Something about the way she says it makes your heart ache. She looks desperate, like this really means something to her. Who are you kidding? Of course, this means something to her. 

They're her family, they're important to her. And on Christmas, all they want is for everything to be perfect. perfect food, perfect presents, and perfect couples.

You hate the way she's looking at you with those soft, pleading eyes. She always looks at you like that when she wants something, and you always give in. She does it subconsciously, knowing how to get exactly what she wants. And damn it, it works.

“Fine,” you mutter. “You've got your damned wish.”

And there it is. There's the look you've been waiting for. That look of relief that comes to her eyes.

You hate that look. You hate how your heart flutters when she looks like that. You hate it so much. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you've got me for tonight. I'll pretend like we're still together. Happy now?”

There's a flicker of a smile on her face, something quick that's gone before you can even register. “Yeah, thank you.”

She looks away again. Silence falls between the two of you as you shift awkwardly.

This is gonna be a long night.

You sigh, watching as she keeps her focus on the floor. This is so damn awkward.

And it's your own fault for agreeing to this nonsense. There's no way this night doesn't end up being a goddamn catastrophe. You would give anything to just disappear right now.

Powder's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. Peeking her head out of the doorway, looking at the two of you. “Hey, you two. It's cold out there, get your asses in here.”

You look at Vi, waiting for a sign of acknowledgment.

She slowly glances up, her gaze meeting yours. “Come on,” she murmurs, holding out her hand.

Taking a deep breath, you take her hand in yours.

You've held her hand so many times before—more times than you can count. Holding her hand used to be nothing, but now it feels so odd. So awkward.

But she doesn't seem to notice how out of place it feels. She slowly leads you towards the door, squeezing your hand as she pulls you along.

“How are my favorite love birds doing?” Mylo's voice greets you as you both enter.

He slings a casual arm over your shoulders, leaning on your shoulder to get a better look at you. “It's about time you two showed up. I thought for sure you were just gonna keep making out in a corner somewhere.”

It takes everything you have not to elbow him in the stomach. Instead, you keep a neutral expression and chuckle awkwardly, “Yeah, you know us. Can't keep our hands off of each other.”

“You two are sickeningly in love, it's really cute, actually.”

Your eye twitches, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah, we're very in love,” Vi says, and you can tell she's trying not to roll her eyes.

Mylo claps you on the shoulder before releasing you. “Well then, I'm going to go find myself some eggnog.” He leaves towards the kitchen, whistling to himself as he goes.

You turn to look at Vi, and you almost feel a twinge of hatred towards the way she so casually holds your hand, like nothing is wrong.

“Are you okay?”

Her voice brings you back to reality, and suddenly you're all too aware of how hard you're clenching your jaw and the fact that you're basically just glowering at the floor with a storm cloud over your head.

You raise your eyes to meet with hers, and you have to force yourself to release some of the tension. “Yeah, fine,” you mutter. “just cold”

It's a lie, obviously. It's not cold at all. Vander always keeps the place nice and warm.

Not even she's dumb enough to fall for that. She glances around, clearly noticing how you're not really hiding your feelings well.

She runs her thumb over the back of your hand. It's an innocent gesture, one that you've seen dozens of times before. It's not meant to be anything special, it never was. And yet, it still makes your heart skip a beat. 

You have absolutely no idea how you're going to get through this night with both your sanity and your heart still intact.

“Okay,” she finally says, “can you stop clenching your jaw so hard? you look like you're trying to grind your teeth down to the bone. I know this isn't the ideal situation, but please don't go around looking like you want to kill everyone in this room.”

Her fingers squeeze your hand, and you realize just how tightly you're holding her hand in yours. Your knuckles are white, and your fingers are probably digging into her skin.

Gritting your teeth, you loosen your grip. 

“There, that's better… please try and just relax for a bit. This is going to be hellish already, so I at least need you to not look like you hate me every second we're in here.”

You look away from her. “Please don't act like you care.”

“I'm not acting like I care,” she says, a tone just loud enough for only you to hear. “I do care, and that's the problem.”

Of course she has to say something like that right now. Of course she has to hit where it hurts the most.

Care? care about what? about you? about what she put you through, how she broke your heart?

You open your mouth, but your response dies in your throat. You have no idea how to respond to that.

A loud shout interrupts your thoughts, and you both turn around. “Oi! Time for dinner!” Powder yells from the doorway into the kitchen.

Vi mutters under her breath, “finally.”

Powder grins as she waves you both over. “Hurry up or Vander will eat everything and complain about his bad back afterwards.”

“We're coming,” Vi calls back.

The two of you head towards the kitchen. There's a long table in the middle of the room, covered in a red and green tablecloth. Everyone is already crowded around the table, taking their seats as you two enter the room. Vander is at the head of one of the tables, Silco seated beside him. Mylo and Claggor are chatting amongst themselves as Powder takes her seat beside Claggor.

Vi looks at the seating arrangement and sighs, realizing what's about to happen. She pulls you over to the table and sits down, pulling you down into the seat right next to her.

After a few moments, everyone quiets down and turns their attention to Silco.

Silco places his hands together. “It's good to see everyone together like this today. I am thankful that we are all here, safe and healthy.” He glances around the room in a quick survey, seeming to count everyone's attendance. “And what better time to be together than the holidays?”

Powder huffs. “Can we just eat? I'm starving.” 

Silco raises his hand for Powder to stay quiet. “Patience, Pow. First, let's do something a bit… different.”

Mylo and Claggor glance at each other in confusion. “Different?” Mylo repeats.

“Indeed,” Silco replies. “Instead of just diving into our meal, I thought it would be nice if we all took a moment to share a few words about what we are thankful for this year.”

“We're really gonna do this?”

Claggor nudges him. “Be polite, Mylo.”

“He's right, though,” Powder chimes in.

Silco raises an eyebrow at them both. “Is it really such a hassle to express gratitude at the end of the year?”

Mylo and Powder grumble something under their breaths.

Claggor is the first one to respond. “I think it's a fine idea.”

“Thank you, Claggor,” Silco replies, “I'm glad we have at least one cooperative person here.”

After a moment of silence, Vander speaks. “Alright, then I'll go first... I am grateful for my family,” he says as he looks around the room. “I am thankful for my health, for my business, and most of all, that everyone is still here with me and safe.”

“That's so soft,” Powder says, but everyone ignores her.

Vander turns his head and looks directly at Silco, as if he's saying something that's meant to be for Silco's ears only, though everyone can clearly hear. “I'm also thankful for you, Sil,” he adds, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile.

You're not sure if you're the only one who noticed, but that comment definitely seemed personal and almost a little out of place.

He collects himself quickly and nods at Vander, seemingly not quite sure of what to say. “Thank you, Vander.” 

Silco clears his throat and composes himself, turning his gaze to Powder. “How about you, Pow? Any words of gratitude?”

Powder groans, slouching back in her seat like a child who's been forced to eat her vegetables. “I swear, if you make me say something corny-”

Mylo leans over the table to look at her sister. “Say something nice for once, or you're not getting dessert.”

“Ugh, fine. I am thankful for…” She looks around the room, taking in everyone's faces. “I'm thankful everyone's here and we're all... whatever, happy and healthy or something like that,” she mumbles.

“I'll take whatever I can get,” Silco mutters before turning his attention to Claggor. “What about you, Claggor?”

Claggor seems to be taking a moment to think, like he's actually putting effort into what he will say. “I'm grateful for…” His eyes are almost unfocused as he thinks. After a moment, he glances up to look at Vander. “I'm grateful for the family I have here.”

Vander gives him a warm look in response.

Everyone's gaze turns to Mylo, expecting him to go next.

He fidgets anxiously, shifting in his seat as he glances around the room. “What am I supposed to say?...er, fine... My whole life's a mess, but...at least all you idiots are here to make my life more miserable.”

“We love you too, Mylo” Powder teases. “Real touching. I think I might cry.”

Mylo throws a glare in her direction. “Shut up.”

Silco glances at Vi, his gaze lingering as he waits for Vi to speak.

“I'm thankful for…” Her voice is quieter than usual, more hesitant. She glances at you before continuing. “I'm... thankful for the people I have in my life.”

Everyone's gaze settles on you next, waiting for you to say something. “Well, I... I guess I'm thankful to be able to still participate in this family gathering, even if I haven't seen everyone in a while.” You take a look at Vi before moving on. “Hopefully I can still be here and spend Christmas with all of you next year too.”

She holds your gaze for a moment, almost as if she's processing what you just said… and then, unexpectedly, a smile forms at the corner of her lips.

It's a subtle change, barely noticeable, but you see it. and just seeing her smile, even a small one like that, has butterflies filling your stomach. It's been so long since you've seen her smile like that. A part of you misses it, a part of you yearns to see it more often.

She quickly looks away, and you notice that her cheeks have turned a light shade of pink.

“There, we all said our little cheesy bullshit,” Powder says, clearly getting impatient.

Silco turns to Powder, his expression disapproving. “Language, Pow,” he reminds. 

Vander sighs. “Yes, Powder, mind your language” he adds, earning a mock-offended look from Powder.

“Like you don't swear all the time.”

“I do not swear all the time, Pow,” he protests, although you know it's a lie. Even the most proper and upstanding people swear, and Vander is definitely not that.

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

Vander huffs but chooses not to add anything. Silco lets out a dry cough to redirect everyone's attention. “Right, now that that's over, let's go ahead and eat, shall we?” Silco says, as if the whole moment of gratitude never happened..

“Finally,” Mylo grumbles, “I was starting to wonder if you forgot about why we all gathered here.”

Silco gives him a look. “Patience is a virtue, Mylo.”

“We've all been patient for the last hour, so spare me.”

Claggor sighs, but thankfully Mylo and Powder seem to settle into silence for the time being.

Silco nods in approval. “Then, shall we begin?”

Vander gets up from his seat, moving to go grab the food.

Powder and Mylo look at Vander expectantly, and they both look like they're about to get out of their seats. Silco gives them a warning look, silencing them before they can get a word out. “Wait until everything is ready.”

They both grumble, but they obediently sit back down. They're impatient, sure, but they at least know better than to piss off Silco.

Vander returns a moment later, setting a platter filled with food on the table. It looks delicious, and the smell is mouthwatering. Your stomach growls a little, reminding you of how hungry you are.

Powder and Mylo are practically drooling, and you honestly wouldn't be surprised if they lunged for the food the moment Silco gave the word.

Thankfully, he doesn't give them any chance. He simply says, “Please, help yourselves,” and Silco has to gesture for them to wait.

They almost get up and move to the table, and they're clearly resisting the temptation to shove each other to try and get to the food faster.

Mylo lets out a curse, and Jinx giggles in response. Vi stands up and grabs both of them, grabbing onto their shoulders and holding them back from each other.

“Enough, you two,” she scolds, “there's plenty of food for everyone. Chill out.”

They look at her with expressions that clearly are saying, 'no, we're hungry'. Powder lets out a huff, and Mylo looks like he's one more remark away from shoving her sister.

Vi's expression sharpens, her eyes boring into Mylo and Powder. “No, quit the bullshit, you can wait a few minutes, and if you two can't act like adults about it, neither of you are getting any.”

Mylo immediately shuts up at that, his expression turning more guilty. Powder just looks like she's about to protest, a pout forming on her face. Vi glares at Powder to shush her as well.

“Just quit it,” she says. “You can wait, the food will taste better if you don't shove it all down your throats like dogs.”

“Fine, we'll wait,” she grumbles.

Mylo just nods with a pout, staying quiet.

Vi seems to notice their looks, and she rolls her eyes, staying put just in case. She seems wary as she watches Powder and Mylo, her eyes switching from them to the food on the table.

And sure enough, the moment Silco gestures for everyone to get their food, Powder and Mylo are gone, rushing to claim their plates.

Powder and Mylo shove each other for their own plates. No one says anything though, they're all just used to it. This is just how Powder and Mylo are, and they've come to accept it. Vi doesn't even seem as bothered as everyone else does. 

Mylo seems like he's really close to just pushing Powder to the side and snatching up the slice he wants, and Powder doesn't look any better. Honestly, if Vi didn't step in, there was a chance they'd start throwing punches.

And judging from how the others' looks, especially Silco, they look like they're expecting this. 

It's like this is all completely normal, they know to expect this kind of behavior when food, and more importantly, free food, is involved.

Powder and Mylo finally settle down after their little fight, and they finally begin digging into the food.

Mylo is practically shoving it into his face, eating it like he's been starved for weeks. Powder isn't any better, although at least she's not making a complete mess.

Claggor is significantly slower when it comes to eating, choosing to take his time as he slowly eats as opposed to just shoving the food into his mouth.

Vander eats at a decent pace, and he doesn't seem as starving like Mylo is.

The last one to begin eating is Silco, and surprisingly, there's a smile on his face. He takes one look at how Mylo and Powder are chowing down on their food, then he turns his gaze and looks at you, as if silently asking if you're going to eat.

You take the hint, and you decide to dig into your own food. The food is delicious, and you can't blame Mylo and Powder for basically trying to swallow their food whole.

Vi also begins eating now that everyone's settled down.

Vander laughs, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Slow down a little, you two, the food isn't going anywhere.”

Mylo and Powder both raise their heads at that, and they both look like they're considering it for a moment... but they immediately go back to shoving food down their throats.

Claggor shakes his head as he watches them eat. “You'd think they'd never seen a Christmas dinner before.”

“You know them, they would scarf down all the food in town if they could.”

Powder glances up at that, a small pout forming on her lips. “Hey, it's not our fault we're just starving.”

Mylo nods in agreement, his mouth too full to say anything.

“You both just had eaten before this,” Claggor counters.

Mylo swallows whatever food is in his mouth long enough to argue with Claggor. “And that was hours ago.”

“Yeah,” Powder agrees, “it was practically an eternity since we ate.”

“Two hours is not an eternity,” Claggor retorts. 

“It might as well be,” Powder counters.

Despite the bickering and arguing the dinner feels oddly... domestic, almost.

Claggor looks like the responsible and mature oldest sibling who's done with his siblings nonsense, Vander almost acts like a tired parent, Silco acts more like a stern aunt, and Powder and Mylo act like rowdy kids who are constantly at each other's throats.

Vi sits next to you. She's making sarcastic comments with Silco, laughing at Powder's jokes, and making small talk with Claggor. She even gives Mylo an unimpressed glare when he tries to snatch all the bread for himself.

It's like you're both back to normal. The way she's acting makes your heart ache. She's giving you all the attention a partner would give.

She gives you fond smiles whenever you make a comment, she casually slides an arm around your shoulders, she even scoots her chair a little closer to yours.

Her eyes are soft, her voice is soft, whenever you look at her, she looks back with this affectionate look.

It's so normal, that it almost takes you back to your relationship and how you two were before the breakup.

She's even doing little things, like leaning closer to you, letting a hand rest on your thigh, even discreetly grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with hers under the table.

You want to hold her tight and never let her go, but your brain keeps reminding you. You two aren't together anymore.

But when you look at her, when she looks at you with that look in her eyes, everything goes quiet. 

Maybe it could work this time.

Maybe you two could just bury the hatchet and move on.

Maybe things could work between you two if you try it out again.

Then you remember the fights, the nights you spent on your bed, crying while Vi was out with friends. You remember how she treated you after the breakup—how she tossed you aside like discarded trash.

You try to ignore it, push it to the back of your head. But it's so hard when Vi sits next to you, close enough for you to catch the scent of her perfume. She smells like cigarettes and leather, something that's so her.

You're so focused on trying to stop yourself from touching her or even getting closer that you're almost surprised when she suddenly leans her head against your shoulder.

She doesn't say anything, just leans against you. She's pressed against your side, her shoulder against your shoulder, her head against yours, her hand on your thigh.

You notice her scent again, now stronger.

Her hair brushes against your neck, the way you can feel the warmth of her body, and the way her thumb draws little circles into your thigh.

She's so close, and yet you want her even closer.

You want to run your hands through her hair, you want to nuzzle your face into her shoulder, you want to feel her hands roaming your body.

You just want her.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Powder, her question pulling you out of your head. “It's been a while since we've seen you two together,” she says, her mouth still full of food.

Claggor shoots Powder a look. “Powder-”

“Shush, I'm just wondering,” she argues, shrugging casually, “has she been avoiding you?”

“No,” you say before anyone can say anything. “We just... haven't had time to schedule any dates, that's all.”

“For months? Haven't had time to schedule a single date for months?”

“Life gets busy, y'know,” you reply, trying to sound nonchalant.

Mylo scoffs at that. “You two are dating, the least you could do is at least manage one date a month.”

Claggor smacks him over the head. Mylo grumbles and rubs the back of his head, shooting his brother a glare. “What? it's true,” he mutters. “We just kind of... we all miss you.”

Vander gives Mylo a disapproving glare. “What Mylo means is, your presence has been sorely missed around here.”

“We all just... we just want you around more,” Powder puts in her two cents, speaking around a mouthful of food again.

You cast a sidelong glance at Vi. You and her are putting up a pretty good facade so far, but Mylo's question seemed to have put her on the spot a little. She catches your glance, and you give her a look that says, just play along. Vi sighs, her hand squeezing your thigh.

“Look, I-” She glances around the table, meeting everyone's eyes before sighing and putting on the most believable expression. “I know we haven't been as... present as we should have been for the past few months. Work just got really hectic.”

“That's true,” you back her up with a nod. “I had to travel away for a business trip a few weeks ago, so it's been pretty hard to find time to spend together.”

Vander, Silco, and Powder all nod in understanding. They're aware of the fact that you have a job in a big city, so it's not an unbelievable explanation.

Mylo, however, snorts and crosses his arms. “You don't have to feed us some lame excuse for not hanging out with us.”

Claggor gives Mylo another smack. “Would you shut up already?”

“Ow!” Mylo grumbles as he rubs his head again, shooting Claggor a dirty look.

Vander sighs. “Regardless, it's good to have you here for Christmas this time.”

Everyone nods and agrees. Powder grins at you, Silco shoots you a small almost-smile, and Claggor and Vander both look genuinely pleased to have you here.

All eyes then land on Mylo, and he shrugs again, mumbling, “I guess it is good to have you here.”

“See, it's a christmas miracle, Mylo isn't being a little prick for once,” Powder teases.

Mylo scowls at her. “Hey, I'm never a little prick-”

“Bullshit.”

Mylo just grumbles again, his eyes narrowing at Powder. “I just think that-”

“Nobody cares what you think,” Powder interrupts again.

That just causes Claggor, Vander, and Silco to laugh. Vi snorts next to you, squeezing your thigh.

The conversation soon changes to talking about old childhood holiday memories.

Mylo tells a story about him stealing Silco's secret chocolate stash when he was twelve. Silco scowls at the memory, but there's a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Powder tells a story about the time she accidentally burned the back of Vander's hair with a roman candle. Vander laughs and shakes his head at the memory.

At some point, Claggor chimes in to tell a story about a time he and Mylo accidentally broke a window during a snowball fight. Even Mylo himself laughs at that one.

There's lighthearted banter, friendly jabs, and just a lot of laughter in between. This, this is what it should have been like from the beginning. It reminds you of the way it used to be when you were all younger, but still has a different air to it. In a way, it's almost better than those old days. Everyone's grown, but there's still that same energy that always connected you all as a family... it just feels fuller.

You don't know if it's just the christmas lights playing tricks on your mind, but you swear you can see the faintest tearful sheen in Vander's eyes. He's always had a bit of parental pride and love toward all of you, but seeing you all sitting here together, happy... damn, it must bring back a lot of memories for him.

Silco even looks less grumpy than usual, his mouth twisting into a barely visible smile as the rest of the table continues talking. Yeah, this is how christmas should be…

It almost makes you forget that all of this is fake, almost makes you forget why you and Vi aren't together anymore. It's almost like just for tonight, you can pretend like things are back to how they used to be.

But you know this will not last. When everything is said and done, when christmas night is over and you're all saying your goodbyes, you have no doubt in your mind that you and Vi will go your separate ways again.

You glance at her, taking in the sight of her laughing with the rest. Her eyes are bright, her smile is big, and her entire face lights up with joy. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your heart to quiet. 

Vi must notice you looking, because she glances over at you. She's looking at you with that look again. You recognize it so easily.

That look... that damn look she's giving you again. The look that makes your heart stutter against your ribs, the look that makes your stomach twist into knots. It's a look that almost makes you want to lean forward and kiss her.

You almost give into your urges. You almost reach out and push a stray strand of hair out of her face, you almost do something to kiss her, almost.

But you don't, you can't. That would spoil the whole 'still dating' facade, and besides.... you have boundaries.

You give her a nod, offering a small smile, and you swear that you see disappointment flash across her eyes.

She looks like she wants to say something, her hand tightening over your knee again, but she seems to change her mind and just smiles back.

Maybe it's just a figment of your own imagination, you think to yourself. Maybe it was a trick of the light or something.

Claggor reaches over to grab something from the middle of the table, and Silco clears his throat. “How about you two?” he says it casually, like he's just making small talk, but there's a hint of concern in his voice. “Any... any problems between the two of you lately?”

You and Vi both sit up straighter. “Problems...?” Vi repeats.

Silco just shrugs, playing it casual. “I don't know, I'm just wondering... a lot of couples who have been together for as long as the two of you have.” He trails off, but everyone at the table knows the implications.

Mylo grumbles. “I swear, if you start talking about how high the divorce rate is—” Claggor elbows Mylo, and he shuts up.

Silco just chuckles. “Oh, I'm sure you two can last.”

Powder rolls her eyes. “These two have been together since forever. You guys were like... practically attached at the hip, from day one.”

“Yeah, we were like that, weren't we?” Vi looks back at you.

“Yeah,” you say with a casualness you don't feel. “Yeah, we were.”

Silco hums. “I remember when you two first started dating.”

“Oh, do you remember that?” Vander says, looking at Silco. “I remember the two of them coming to me the day they decided they were going to be official.”

Claggor nods. “Yeah, and they were so... so mushy. All 'you're mine' and 'we're never going to break up,” he puts on a mock high-pitched voice, imitating you and Vi

“That was the worst,” Powder groans, shoving food into her mouth.

Mylo grins and elbows Claggor. “How many times did you have to stop them from making out all over the bar again?”

“Way too many times.”

“By the way,” Mylo says. “You two aren't doing anything for new years, are you?”

You and Vi exchange glances. “...we haven't made plans yet,” you say slowly, trying to think of excuses.

“Oh, you should come join us then,” Mylo says, leaning back and stretching his arms. “All of us are getting hammered down here for new years, you two should come.”

“Yeah, it'll be fun!” Powder pipes up, eyes lighting up. “You guys will come, won't you? promise you'll come.”

You open your mouth, trying to wrack your brain for excuses, but before you can say anything-

“Of course we'll come.”

You turn to look at Vi, and she just gives you a shrug.

Mylo grins. “Good, good! That'll be fun.” He sits up and points a finger at you both. “I swear, the two of you used to be so much fun at parties, it's like you both went boring when you got older.”

“Hey, just cause we're getting old doesn't mean we suddenly became party poopers,” Vi says defensively. “We're still fun.”

Mylo cackles. “Are you now? I never see you two do anything anymore.” He leans back in his seat. “Ever since you got that fancy shmancy job, you've been too busy to have any fun.”

“We know how to have fun, we have—” you pause, trying to think of the word, “responsibilities now. Responsibilities that a certain someone is too dumb to understand.”

“I understand responsibilities, but I understand the concept that if you don't get wasted while you're young, then you'll wake up at forty, old and boring,” he says, looking at Silco and Vander. “And I want to make the most out of my young and reckless years. Meanwhile, you've already turned into an old, boring fart.”

You scowl at that, but Silco interrupts before you can respond. “Don't knock on old farts just yet. Some of us are old and still know how to have fun.”

“Yeah,” Vander chimes in, nodding his head. “Just because we're old doesn't mean we don't know how to have a good time.”

Mylo rolls his eyes and waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you old farts can still have fun. You just don't know how to have real fun anymore.” Mylo then pouts. “I just... I miss how it used to be, you know?” He sighs, resting his chin in his hand. “Before all that adult crap, when things were easier.”

“Easier,” Powder mutters, poking at the remains of her food. “Yeah, when we were broke and always hungry, real easy.”

Mylo reaches over and flicks her arm. “Easy doesn't always mean money, you dumbass.”

Powder scowls and smacks his arm back. “Don't call me a dumbass, you dumbass.”

“Then don't be a dumbass,” Mylo snaps back, smacking her again.

Powder smacks him again, harder. “Don't you dare call me a dumbass again.”

Before they can start another childish argument, Silco's voice cuts in. “Enough you two," he says, and they immediately grumble and fall quiet.

“Honestly, I sometimes wonder how the two of you aren't still in high school,” Vander says.

“That's an insult to high schoolers, they're more mature than those two,” Claggor jokes, earning him a smack to the head from both Powder and Mylo.

He yells and puts his hands up in surrender, “ow ow ow, ok ok! don't hurt me!”

Jinx and Mylo laugh, while Silco shakes his head. “See what I mean? Children.”

“And they both insist they're mature enough to be out in the real world, independent and capable,” Vander says, and Silco chuckles.

“They're still just as chaotic now as they were in high school,” Silco says dryly. “Nothing has changed.”

Powder and Mylo both glare at him. “Really? like you two were that much better in high school,” she grumbles.

Silco raises an eyebrow at that. “We certainly weren't as immature as some people,” he says pointedly.

“You guys were probably just as bad as us, you just don't remember."

There's a pause, and Silco and Vander exchange glances before Silco snorts. He tries to bite back a laugh, but it comes out anyway, causing Vander to burst out laughing as well.

“I can't-” Vander wheezes between laughs. “I can't believe... you actually…”

Silco doubles over, laughing even harder. After a moment, he manages to gasp out a few words. “Oh, if you only... if you only knew…”

Powder and Mylo exchange confused glances, while Claggor tilts his head. “What? what happened? what's so funny?”

The laughter finally dies down as Silco composes himself enough to speak. “Nothing, it's nothing,” he says, waving a hand.

“All right, all right,” Vander looks around the table. “I think most of us are done eating. Who wants to help with the dishes?”

There's a collective groan from the rest of the table. No one likes doing dishes.

Powder and Mylo immediately groan out a “not it,” and Claggor follows up with “You all know I'm terrible at dishes-”

“Don't look at me either,” Silco grumbles. Vander just sighs and shakes his head.

and that just leaves you and Vi... great, just great.

You're about to argue as well, anything to get out of being stuck in the kitchen with Vi, but she beats you to it. “Yeah, we'll do it,” she says, before you can even open your mouth.

“Oh, I-” you pause for a moment. You had been fully intending to dodge the chore, but now you can't without looking like an ass and leaving her alone to do dishes.

Vi stands up and picks up the nearest stack of dirty dishes, balancing them on her arms as she turns to you. She shoots you a look, like she's daring you to try and weasel out of helping.

You get the hint, shaking your head and standing up. This is absolutely the last thing you want to do right now.

You follow her to the kitchen, grabbing a few more dishes along the way.

She holds the kitchen door open for you, and you step into the little kitchen with its small stone countertops and simple appliances. You set the dishes down on the counter near the sink, turning to find Vi already rolling up her sleeves.

She's not looking at you, but when she starts to roll up the left side of her shirt sleeve, you swear you can see her eyes dart over to you for a split second.

You pause, staring at the side of her face. You can't tell if she's... no, you must be imagining things. 

She clears her throat, raising one eyebrow. “What, you're not gonna help?”

“No, no, I am,” you hurriedly say.

You're not going to look at her. Not at the way her forearm flexes when she reaches down to turn on the water, not at the way she bends over to grab some dish soap, and definitely not at the way her shirt tightens across her shoulders.

Yeah, you're definitely not going to look at her. Not at the way her fingers move when she soaps up the dishes, not the way her biceps flex when she bends her elbow, and especially not at the way her hair falls into her face when she scrubs at a stubborn stain.

Why is she so fit?

You look down at your own hands, watching the water and soap bubble up between your fingers. You start washing another dish, trying your absolute hardest to look anywhere except at her.

The minutes tick by in awkward silence, but eventually, your mind starts to wander. After all, washing dishes is pretty damn boring.

You glance over at her again, out of the corner of your eye, watching the way her shoulder blades shift under her shirt. The fabric of her shirt is stretched taut against her shoulders, and you wonder what she looks like under it if she still has all the same muscles....

Yeah, okay, you really have to stop staring at her.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Well, so much for not looking at her. Your head snaps up at the sound of her voice, and you force yourself to just focus on scrubbing at the glass in your hands. 

“Depends what the question is,” you grumble, shifting a little.

You expect her to ask you something about your current life or something generic. What happened when you were gone, what life was like where you were?

Instead, she asks something completely left-field.

“Do you ever think about us?”

You tense up, the glass in your hands slipping a little in your grip. You were not expecting that question. Hell no, you were literally not expecting that question.

How are you supposed to answer that? yes? no? sometimes?

What was she even expecting to hear? did she want you to say yes, to say that you always thought about her, that you would've come back to her in a heartbeat if you could've? or did she just want to hear you say no, to hear that you moved on, that you had to move on because it was either that or let yourself fall apart?

‘Sometimes’ was definitely not the answer you would've given months ago.

Now, though? you would admit that sometimes, after a rough morning or a particularly lonely night, you'd let yourself think about her. You'd remember those nights you spent in her apartment, on her shitty couch, talking her ear off about everything and nothing, the nights where the two of you would sit on the couch and watch tv, her head resting on your shoulder, and you'd wonder if maybe... just maybe..

You wonder if she thinks about that kind of stuff too, if you cross her mind late at night when she's alone. You wonder if she still thinks about the nights where you would stay in bed together, talking for hours after a particularly good round, your head resting on her chest as she played with your hair, or the mornings where you'd wake up and find her making breakfast for you.

Yeah, you thought about her a lot.

But you couldn't say that to her. You can't tell her that you think about it all the time, about how sometimes you can't fall asleep because you miss the feeling of laying in bed with her, about how you always find your hands searching for her in the middle of the night. No, you absolutely cannot tell her that, no matter how badly you wanted to.

“I used to,” you say instead of letting your thoughts wander any farther. “Not anymore.”

You keep scrubbing, even after there's no longer any more dirt on the glass. Just so you have a reason not to look at her, just so you have a shield from the thoughts you know are brewing in her mind.

She's quiet, and you can feel her looking at you. Looking at you, reading you, trying to figure out if you're telling the truth or not.

After a few moments, she takes a breath like she's going to speak, but then stops herself. It's something you're all too familiar with. She's overthinking something, that much is obvious. She's trying to pick her words carefully, and damn, you just wish she'd spit it out.

The silence feels like it's been going on for a year, but really, it was only around a minute. Your knuckles are turning white from how tightly you're gripping the glass you're washing, and your shoulders are beginning to ache from how tense you are.

“What about you?” you murmur. “Do you... do you think about us?” You force yourself to look over at her, and you instantly wish you hadn't.

She's not looking at you now, she's not watching you suspiciously or anything like that. No, instead she's looking down, staring at the soapy water, and avoiding eye contact with you.

She's quiet for a second, her hands pausing in their scrubbing. “Yeah,” she finally says, “I do.”

Her answer goes straight to your gut and twists deep inside you. You were absolutely expecting a solid “no”, hell, you were even preparing yourself for a cruel “god, no.”

Anything, anything other than “I do.”

She continues scrubbing at a plate as if she hasn't just turned your world upside down. How are you supposed to react to her answer? do you say something, do you not say something?

“Why?” the question leaves your lips before you can stop yourself.

“Why do you think so?”

You don't say anything, you just shrug your shoulders. You genuinely don't know. You'd just blurted out the question without actually knowing what you wanted the answer to be.

Her eyes linger on yours for a few seconds, and you can't quite read them. She looks like she wants to say something, she looks like she wants to reach out and hold you, and you'd bet real money that if circumstances were different, she would've done exactly that.

Instead, she just averts her gaze back to the sink and lets out a sigh. “I don't know... I just do.”

You go back to scrubbing dishes. It's obvious there are a million things that you want to say, that you need to say.

“Oh,” is all you say in response, and the word hangs in the air awkwardly.

You're both quiet after that. It's quiet, except for the faint music playing in the background and the sounds of dishes clinking against one another.

A few times, you catch yourself glancing over at her, trying to pick up any hint of what she could be thinking, what she might say next. But, every time, she stubbornly keeps her eyes down on the dishes she's scrubbing. It's frustrating, the way she just won't look at you, and what pisses you off most is the fact that you understand why she won't look at you.

You have a feeling that if she were to look at you, if she were to meet your eyes right now, she'd either burst into tears or shove you into a storage closet and kiss you until your lungs burned.

You don't know which one would be worse.

It's so quiet, so awkward. You're both just scrubbing and scrubbing, refusing to look at the other.

Every time she takes a breath, you look over at her, convinced she's about to speak. But, time and time again, she doesn't, and the only sound to come from her is a shaky exhale.

It's maddening.

The sound of Claggor's voice finally breaks the stifling silence, and you let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. He peeks his head into the kitchen, grinning widely. “Yo, you two almost done here? Powder is about to get impatient.”

You're thankful for the interruption, and judging by the look on Vi's face, so is she.

“Yeah, we're done,” Vi says, glancing up from the dish she's been washing for the last ten minutes.

You dry your hands off on a nearby towel, trying to look unaffected. “We're finished.” 

Claggor grins again, “Thank God, Powder is about to start biting people.” He laughs, then disappears back into the main room.

“That sounds like her.” She chuckles, scrubbing her hands off on a towel.

“Guest we should head out there then,” you say, trying to get her to actually look at you.

She hesitates, still running the towel over her hands even though they're no longer wet. She looks down for a moment as if she's contemplating something, then finally lifts her head to look at you.

Her jaw is tense like she's forcing herself to stay quiet. After a few seconds, her features soften a little. “Yeah.”

You want to ask her what she's thinking, you want to ask her why. Instead, you just push the door of the kitchen open and gesture for her to go first.

—

“Now that we've had an amazing dinner, it's time for the best part of the night.”

Everyone gathers around, now sitting either on the couch or on the floor. Powder and Mylo immediately get squished together on the floor. Powder mutters under her breath, “Hey! you're shoving me!”

“Only because you're taking up too much space.”

Vander smiles from his spot on the couch. “Alright! It's time for secret santa. Everyone remembers who they drew, right?”

A group of nods and hums go around as everyone pulls out the slips of paper that have the names they drew.

Vander clasps his hands together. “Good!” he says as he looks around the room, his smile getting wider. “Who wants to go first?”

A few seconds of silence, then Powder’s hand shoots up. As always, she's the most excited one. “me!”

Vander laughs. “Well, look at that, our little girl is so eager. Okay, you can go first, Pow-Pow.”

Powder smiles and scrambles off the floor, almost tripping over herself as she pulls a present from beneath the Christmas tree. She glances down at the tag and grins.

She then scans the room with a giddy smile, then her eyes land on Silco. She bounds over to him, practically shoving the present into his hands as she sits down on the floor next to his legs. 

Silco smiles faintly as he takes the present. “Alright, let's see what you got me, hm?” He's quiet as he carefully unwraps the present, and Powder watches him who barely contains her excitement.

After a moment, the wrapping paper is set aside, and the present is now fully unwrapped. It's just a little box, though Silco is curious as to what's inside.

He glances at Powder as he takes the lid off the box, looking a little wary. Powder just grins at him. “Go on, open it,” she encourages.

He looks back at the box and, with a nod, reaches in and pulls out the item inside. He holds it in his hands and looks at it curiously, then looks at Powdr with a raised eyebrow.

She's still grinning, and she looks extremely pleased with herself. Mylo glances over to look and snorts out a laugh. “Would you look at that?”

Silco looks at the item in his hands, then looks at Powder again. “You got me…” he begins, trying to sound unimpressed. “...a shark plushie?”

Powder nods, her grin getting wider. “Yep!” she exclaims, “I got you a little shark plushie. You like it, right?”

Silco glances at the plushie and then at her again, looking vaguely fond. He carefully sets it down on his lap, then smiles. “I adore it.”

Her grin somehow widens even more. 

Silco chuckles, then looks around. “Who's next?”

Claggor shrugs, raising a hand. “I'll go,” he offers, to which Vander nods.

“Go ahead, Claggs,” he says approvingly.

Claggor gets to his feet from his spot on the floor, then moves to the tree. He crouches down and rummages around, looking for the present with the correct name tag.

A minute passes as a few minutes go by. He eventually stands back up, a small present in his hands. He looks around the room, then his eyes land on Mylo, who's now lying down on the floor and looking very bored.

Claggor moves over to him, tossing the present into his lap. Mylo looks up and catches the present, shooting him a glare. “You couldn't have done that a little nicer?” he complains while sitting up.

Claggor just shrugs and gives him a flat look. “Suck it up,” he tells him bluntly before sitting back down.

Mylo scoffs and begins to unwrap the present, ripping the wrapping paper off carelessly. He tosses the wrapping paper away, then looks down at the present as he tears the box open. He's quiet for a moment, looking at the contents...

..and then he groans, covering his face.

“Oh, come the hell on,” he grumbles, though he sounds more whiny than anything else. He glances up from his hands to give Claggor a withering look. “Dude, seriously?”

“What?”

Mylo just sighs, shooting the toy in the box with a dismayed look. “Really? a stress ball?”

Claggor shrugs. “I thought it was a good idea,” he says, clearly not bothered by Mylo's unimpressed tone. “And you seem to be lacking a bit in the stress management department.”

“Well, excuse me for being a bit stressed when you're being a dick.”

“See, you need the stress ball. You proved my point right there.”

Mylo just groans and throws his head back. He picks up the stress ball and squeezes it hard. “I hate you.”

Claggor merely grins. “I love you too.”

Mylo mutters something under his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear, then looks up as he addresses the group. “So, who's up next? I'm sure there's some poor sap itching to go.”

Silco raises a hand. “I'll go next,” he offers.

Everyone glances at him, then nods and gestures for him to go. He gets up off the couch and saunters to the tree. He scans the presents beneath it, moving a few aside to find the one he was looking for.

He finally finds it and smirks to himself, grabbing the present and standing up. His eyes sweep over the group. He then turns and walks over to Vander, holding the present out to him.

Vander glances at the present, then at Silco, taking the present and curiously giving it a little shake. “What is it?” he asks curiously.

Silco just grins in a vaguely irritating way and sits back down. “Just open it,” he replies, his voice dripping with innocence.

Vander raises an eyebrow but begins to unwrap the present meticulously, occasionally shooting Silco a glance, as if expecting something. He peels away the wrapping paper to reveal a small box, then looks at Silco, his eyes questioning.

Silco just shrugs and gestures for him to go on. Vander quirks another eyebrow up but opens the box anyway, now intrigued.

Then a snort finally escapes him. He's now fighting to hold back laughter.

Mylo sits up suddenly, looking at Vander, then at Silco, curiosity in his eyes. “What? What is it?” he asks eagerly.

Vander doesn't answer for a moment. He's still staring into the box, looking like he can't believe what he's seeing. He looks up at Silco. “Please tell me you're joking,” he implores.

Silco's smile widens. “I couldn't be more serious,” he replies.

Vander lets out a long, suffering sigh, then digs through the tissue paper and pulls something out of the box.

It's a pair of comically large underwear, one that could practically fit an entire person inside of it.

Vander groans, holding the underwear up and staring at them with slight disgust.

Mylo and Powder both start laughing once they register what the present is. Powder laughs so hard she nearly falls over, clutching her stomach as she howls with laughter.

Vi's eyes widen at the sight of the underwear, her mouth dropping open a little in surprise. As much as it pains her to admit it... she just knows the jokes that Silco is going to start making any minute now.

…and she's right.

“You see, I thought it was a necessary gift.”

“Necessary?” Vander repeats, still holding the underwear up in disbelief.

Silco nods. “Of course. you're getting old, and as you get older... accidents happen.”

“I'm not that old,” Vander grumbles, though he knows it's probably not the best argument.

Silco smirks, raising a hand and waving it dismissively. “Oh, you know what I mean. Things begin to... fail as you age. I simply wanted to make sure you had a spare pair.”

Mylo is now practically rolling on the floor, clutching his sides. “Oh, my god, I can't breathe—this is—this is gold,” he wheezes. Powder is laughing so hard she's choking, practically coughing her lungs up.

Vander looks down at the underwear in his hands. He looks like he wants to throw it into the fire and destroy it right there. He glances up at Silco, giving him a look that clearly says, 'I will get you back for this'.

Silco leans back against the couch and crosses an ankle over his knee. “What? You don't like them? I personally thought they were a good choice.”

Vander opens his mouth to reply, but Powder interrupts him.

“Oh, god,” Powder chokes out, “you should try them on. They'd look perfect on you.”

Vander shoots Powder a glare to kill. “No way in hell,” he mutters firmly, folding his arms and sitting back.

But Powder's not done. “Come on, just try them on,” she wheezes. “It really would be a look for you.”

Vander turns his glare to Powder, his expression clearly saying, 'I will murder you if you keep talking.' “No,” he replies through gritted teeth.

Even Silco is starting to look amused.

“Just for a second,” she teases, “come on, just long enough for us to see. We won't even say anything.”

Van shoots a sneering look at both Silco and Powder. Eventually he lets out an exasperated grumble and stands up, mumbling something he heads into the bathroom with the underwear.

Mylo falls back onto the floor, clutching his stomach.

Silco is laughing too, watching as Vander heads to the bathroom to change.

Mylo is dying of laughter, gasping for air in between wheezes. “Holy shit,” he chokes out. “He's really doing it.”

It takes a few minutes, but the bathroom door swings open and Vander exits, looking like he regrets every decision he's made that led him to this. His face is as red as a tomato as he stomps back over to them in the gigantic underwear.

Mylo and Powder are losing it again, falling over and rolling on the floor with laughter.

Silco is smiling, trying to stifle a laugh. “Oh my,” he says, barely containing his amusement. “They look even better than I imagined.” 

Vander can hardly look anyone in the eye, still red with embarrassment. “I hate you. I hate you all.”

Claggor looks at Silco and Powder, clearly trying not to laugh. “You guys are terrible,” he says, a trace of a smile on his face.

Vi can't hold back her laughter anymore, she's grinning from ear to ear. “You look... perfect,” she comments through a strangled chuckle.

Vander turns his glare on her. “I hate you all,” he repeats, shaking his head.

Powder is still giggling from the floor. “I want pictures.” She holds up her phone.

Vander looks like he wants to smack her head off. “Absolutely not. I forbid it,” he snaps, sounding as serious as someone wearing comically large underwear can.

Powder just pouts, lowering her phone. “Oh, come on,” she says with a whine, looking up at Vander with puppy-dog eyes. “Just a few.”

“No, I'm not having pictures of me in these... embarrassing things circulating the internet.”

“The internet? Who said anything about the internet?” she replies, a smirk on her face. “I just meant... a few for my own personal, um, research.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but Silco chimes in first. “Oh, come on. Humor her. It's the season of giving.”

Vander turns his glare to Silco. “There's no way in hell—”

“Pleeeease?” Powder interrupts, holding out her phone again.

Vander looks like he's about to argue, but Powder is already giving him those damn puppy-dog eyes that he struggles to resist. He hesitates, then, with a grumble, he sighs. “Fine, one picture.”

Powder looks like a kid on Christmas. The instant the word 'picture' leaves Vander's mouth, she leaps to her feet and lifts up her phone. “Stand up straighter.”

Vander obeys, reluctantly straightening up.

“Say cheese.”

Vander grunts, but he cooperates. “Cheese,” he mutters, putting on a strained smile.

Powder snaps the picture, then lowers her phone and looks at it with a satisfied smile. “Oh yeah, you're getting on the naughty list for this one,” she grins, wiggling the phone a little.

Once the picture-taking is over and Vander changes his clothes back, Silco motions for Powder to settle down. 

“Alright, settle down. It's time to continue with the secret Santa,” Silco says, looking at the others.

They all nod in agreement, still snickering but mostly focusing on the present exchange.

“Who wants to go next?” Silco asks, looking around the group.

Mylo looks around, then grins. “My turn.”

Powder rolls her eyes, knowing that look on his face all too well. “Here we go,” she says, preparing herself for whatever nonsense Mylo is about to come up with.

Mylo smirks, holding up his present. “Well, I drew someone's name... and it was a pretty easy choice.” He then looks around the group with mock innocence. “Oh, where's my victim?”

Claggor sighs. “Who exactly is the unlucky person this year?”

“There's only one person who I could have possibly chosen…”

“Would you just spit it out before the suspense kills me?” Powder snaps, impatient.

Mylo huffs. “Jeez, have some patience. Anyway, my secret santa is…”

Claggor puts his head in his hands, bracing himself.

“My secret santa is, drumroll please…” They reluctantly drum their hands against any surface near them.  “My very special secret Santa is…”

Mylo grins, looking from face to face, savoring the moment before he does the big reveal.

“My secret Santa... is Powder!”

“Fuck!” She groans, burying her head in her hands.

“Aww, what's the matter, Pow?” Mylo grins, holding up the wrapped present.

Powder lets out another groan, glaring up at him. “You're the worst,” she mutters, looking like she's praying to any god out there to just put her out of her misery already.

Mylo grins, getting a kick out of her misfortune. “Come on, don't be like that. It could be worse, I could have gotten you a box of spiders,” he teases, shaking the present in her direction.

Powder looks like she's seriously considering that as a better option. “You know what? Give me the spiders. Spiders would be better than whatever it is you got me.”

“Nice try. You're not getting out of it that easily,” he says, holding the present just out of her reach. “You have to open it, come on.”

Powder grumbles in protest, then reluctantly reaches out for the present. She snatches it out of his hands, shooting him a glare. “If I die from this, I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life,” she mutters, slowly tearing the wrapping paper.

Then, Powder tears back the last piece of wrapping paper, revealing a plain black box. “What the hell is this?”

“You're going to have to open it and see for yourself.”

Powder grumbles, giving Mylo a glare that could freeze hell over. She slowly opens the black box, not sure what to expect. “...Please tell me this is not what I think it is.” 

The others lean in closer, curiosity getting the better of them.

“You did not get me what I think you got me.”

“Oh, you're going to have to be more specific than that,” he replies, trying to hide his smirk.

Powder glares at him, her jaw clenching. “You know what I'm talking about,” she snaps, looking like she's contemplating dumping the contents of the box over his head.

Mylo just shrugs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I honestly have no idea what you're talking about.” 

Vander just rubs his face with one hand, knowing that this situation is about to spiral out of control.

“You're telling me,” Powder hisses, “that you didn't get me exactly what I think you got me?”

“Like I said, you'll have to be a bit more specific,” he responds, looking too smug for his own good.

Powder looks like she's about to explode. “Mylo, I swear to-”

Claggor cuts her off, knowing that she's about to blow her top. “Calm down, Powder,” he says, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I'll calm down when the box goes straight over his head.”

“Why so angry? I thought you'd be excited.”

“I can't wait to make you eat that box.” 

“Oh, I'm so scared.”

Vander interjects, trying to diffuse the tension. “That's enough. No need to start throwing things around.”

“I was just having fun.”

“Yeah, have fun with a black eye.”

“Enough,” Silco says, giving both Powder and Mylo stern looks.

Both Mylo and Powder grumble, reluctantly backing down a bit.

“Can we all just get back to opening presents, please?” Vander asks, exasperated.

The others nod in agreement, though Powder still looks like she's not done with Mylo yet. She glares at him one last time before reluctantly returning to her seat.

Mylo just grins, clearly enjoying having gotten the last word in. He takes his own seat next to Claggor.

The others exchange glances, silently agreeing to not let Powder and Mylo be too close to each other for the rest of the evening.

Silco clears his throat, getting everyone's attention. “Now, who's next?” he asks, looking around the room.

Vander nods, leaning back in his seat. “I'm up next, I guess.” He rummages at the gifts under the Christmas tree. After a few moments of searching, Vander finally finds the present he was looking for. He picks it up, holding it in his lap. “This one's for you,” he says, handing the present to Claggor.

Claggor takes the present, looking curious. He glances down at it, then looks up at Vander with a smile. “Thanks,” he says, starting to unwrap it.

Once the wrapping paper is off, Claggor is holding a box of assorted tools. They range from pliers to wrenches to screwdrivers.

“Just like you requested,” Vander says, watching as Claggor starts inspecting the tools.

“Wow, these are great. Thanks, dad,” he replies, running a hand over the tools in the box.

Vander smiles, pleased to see that Claggor likes his present. “I thought you'd like them. I saw them at the pawnshop the other day and figured you could use them.”

“I definitely will. These are a huge upgrade compared to what I have now.”

Vander reaches over and pats Claggor on the shoulder. “You deserve it. You've been working your ass off lately.” He looks around the room, looking for the next person to take their turn. “Alright, who's up next?” 

Mylo's head suddenly snaps up, a smirk on his face. “Oh goodie, it's Vi's turn.”

“Come on, Vi, your turn,” Silco says, looking a little amused.

“Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses,” she mumbles, getting to her feet and making her way over to the christmas tree.

Vi crouches down, rummaging through the presents. After a few moments, she finally finds the present. She grabs it, standing back up. She looks over at you, looking like she's been caught doing something she's not supposed to do.

She makes her way over to where you're sitting, holding out the present. “Here, this one's for you.” 

You take the present from her, looking down at it. It's heavy in your hands, the wrapping paper slightly crinkled from how hard she was holding it. “Thanks, Vi/” You look up at her.

“Don't mention it, babe,” she mutters, her voice strained.

Powder and Mylo both let out a chorus of ‘aww’ when they heard her use the nickname.

“Shut up, you two,” she says, glaring at them both.

You start unwrapping the present, tearing off the wrapping paper to reveal what's inside.

Once the wrapping paper is off, you're holding a small box. It's plain, made of brown cardboard, and doesn't look like much. But as you look back up at Vi, you can see a hint of nervousness on her face.

She's watching you intently, her expression anxious. 

Still curious, you glance back down at the box in your hands. You lift off the lid, opening it slowly.

There, nestled in a bed of tissue paper, is a necklace. It's a silver chain with a small silver heart pendant. It looks delicate and beautiful, and judging by the look on Vi's face, she spent a lot of time picking it out.

You slowly reach into the box, lifting the necklace out of the tissue paper. You hold it up, letting the chain dangle from your fingers. It glints in the light, the pendants catching the glow from the Christmas tree lights.

Vi is still watching you, her eyes fixed on the necklace. “Do you like it?”

You look up from the necklace, meeting her gaze. “Yeah, I do,” you respond. “...It's beautiful.”

You hold the necklace in your hand, running your thumb over the pendant. Without even thinking, you reach up and clasp the necklace around your neck.

It fits snugly against your skin, the pendant resting on your collarbone.

You look up, catching Vi watching you as you adjust the necklace. “Looks good on you.” 

“Thanks,” you reply, still running your thumb over the pendant.

Mylo and Powder both let out another chorus of ‘aww’ clearly touched by the sight.

Vi shoots them another glare, her eyes narrowing. “Would you two shut up, for Christ's sake?”

“Oh, come on, sis. It's cute” Powder teases.

“Ah, young love,” Silco says. 

Vander chuckles, nodding his head. “I remember my younger days.”

“Don't you mean your younger hookups?” 

Vander grins, holding his hands up. “Guilty as charged.”

Silco laughs, shaking his head. “Some things never change.” Then, he glances around the room, looking for who's turn it is next. “Lasty, who's next?” 

You look around, seeing that almost everyone has given out their gift. It's obvious that your turn is next. “I'm up next.”

You get to your feet, making your way over to where the presents are. then you hold the present in your hands, not looking up quite yet. You can feel Vi's eyes on you.

This is it. You take a deep breath and look up, meeting her gaze. 

You walk over to her, your heart beating faster. You feel nervous, but you try to push it down. You stop in front of her, holding out the present. “Here you go, babe.” 

Vi's expression softens, her eyes darting down to the gift in your hands. She reaches out and grabs it, looking slightly puzzled.

You watch silently as she unwraps the gift. 

“Is this... a sweater?” she asks, bewildered. It's clearly hand-knit, with uneven stitching and a clashing color scheme.

“I made it myself,”

“You made it? Like, with your own two hands?”

“Obviously...”

“I mean... it's…”

“It's hideous?” you suggest.

She winces, like she can't deny it. “Yeah, kinda…” 

“Hey,” you say, mock-indignant. “I spent a lot of time making that, you know.”

“I can tell.”

“Then, try it on.”

Vi hesitates, looking at you warily. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You nudge her. “Just try it on… for me.”

She sighs, realizing there's no way out of this. “Fine.”

She pulls it over her head, struggling to get her arms through the sleeves. The fit is awkward, and the sweater seems too small. But somehow, it kind of makes her look... cute?

She tugs at the sleeves, looking down at herself. “How do I look?” 

You pretend to look her over, like you're seriously considering the question. “I dunno,” you reply. “it's... something.”

“Be serious. I look like an idiot, don't I?”

“Don't be like that” you tease, reaching out to straighten the collar of the sweater. “It's not that bad.”

“Not ‘that bad?’” she repeats. “Are you kidding? I look like a walking Christmas tree.” She groans, tugging at the sleeves again.

“I think you look…” cute. adorable. “Fine” “That's the best you've got? 'fine?'”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know… Something more than just ‘fine’”

“Okay, okay, let me rephrase that, you look…” beautiful, cute, adorable. “...very christmas-y”

“You really know how to boost a girl's ego.”

“I didn't realize you needed your ego stroked.”

“I don't,” she protests, flustered. “I'm just saying, a little bit more enthusiasm would be appreciated.”

Silco clears his throat, drawing everyone's attention. “Ahem, now that the present giving is concluded…”

Silence falls over the room as everyone waits for Silco to speak. The tick-tock of the grandfather clock is the only sound that can be heard.

Silco glances at the clock, a smile on his face. “It appears to be midnight,” he says, pausing for emphasis. “Which means…”

A chorus of “Merry Christmas!” rises up from the group, everyone sounding festive and cheerful. 

You look back to Vi, who is still fiddling with the sweater. “Merry Christmas,” you whisper, not wanting the others to hear.

She glances at you, a smile touching her lips. “Merry Christmas to you too,” she replies, her voice just as quiet as yours.

Awkwardly you glance down at the carpet, unsure of what to say next. 

“Hey,” she says suddenly. “Can I talk to you for a second…? In private?”

“Sure,” you agree, following her as she leads you away from the group.

She leads you into a small back room, closing the door behind her. The room is dimly lit, with only a few bare light bulbs lining the walls. Aside from a few boxes and some old crates, the room is empty.

She turns to face you, leaning against the wall. She's quiet for a moment, her gaze averted to the floor. you can tell she's trying to find the right words, fiddling with the hem of the sweater again.

“Listen,” she begins, finally meeting your eyes. “I know this is weird, and I know things are... difficult right now. But…” She pauses. “I just want to say one thing…”

“Go on,” you encourage.

“I…” she starts, then falters. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Her gaze drops to the floor. “Well, I just…” her fingers fumble at the edge of her sweater. “I just... I miss you.”

Your heart skips a beat as she finally says the words out loud.

You've been wanting her to say that for weeks, months even. After everything that's happened between the two of you, you desperately wanted to hear those very words fall from her lips. But now that she's saying it...

What the hell do you say to that?

You're speechless, stunned into silence by her honesty. You open your mouth, intending to say something. But words seem completely lost to you at this point. You just stand there, staring at her, dumbfounded.

“Say something,” she says. “Say anything. You're just staring at me like an idiot.”

“I don't know what to say.” Because, you really don't know what to say. You have so much you want to say, but somehow the words get stuck in your throat.

“Say you hate me. Say you never want to get back together. Just... say something.”

She's waiting. Waiting for something, anything. An opinion, a response. Anything from you. But what can you say? Do you tell her the truth—that you've missed her so much you can't even sleep at night? that the last month has felt like a living hell, having no contact with her?

You want to tell her that you hate her for throwing you away just to come back around wanting something from you again, but your tongue feels like cotton.

“Say something… yell at me, curse me out, anything!”

But her tone gets under your skin, and suddenly you feel the anger start to build inside of you. 

Who does she think she is, demanding a response from you? she's the one who tossed you aside without a second thought. You're sick of this. You've done everything for her, given her everything she wanted, and here she is, pushing you for more.

It is too much—all too much. Without a word, you turn from her, heading toward the door. You can't do this anymore. 

You hear her call out your name as you shove open the door, but you don't stop. You make your way back, stopping at Vander's side. “Vander, I'm going to head out.”

Vander nods, giving you a knowing look. He can tell something's going on, but he's wise enough not to press the issue. “Alright, kid,” he says gruffly. “Get some rest, yeah?”

You nod your head, forcing a smile onto your face. “Yeah, I'll try,” you say, giving him a wave before starting towards the exit.

When you pass by Silco, he gives you a curious look. You catch his gaze and give him a nod.

Finally, you make your way out the front door. The cold night air hits your face, making you shiver. You take a breath, preparing yourself for the walk home.

But then you hear the door swing open behind you, her footsteps hurry after you. “Wait!” her voice calls out. “Wait, stop!”

You keep walking, your steps quick. You're trying to get as far away from her as possible to outrun all of the feelings that came rushing back to you—

“Let me walk you home.”

Her words cut through your thoughts. You falter, your steps slowing down.

You stop walking, turning around to face her. “What?”

She's standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. Her shoulders are slumped, her expression sheepish. She can tell you're not happy she's followed you out here, but she looks like she doesn't care.

She lets out a huff, her breath coming out in a white cloud in the cold air. “I just... look, whatever happened in there, whatever happened between us... just let me look out for you. Just let me walk you home. I.. I have to know you're safe.”

“I don't need a babysitter.” You practically growl, your irritation obvious. “I can handle myself.”

Vi flinches at your words, but she doesn't back down. If anything, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I know you can,” she says. “I'm not offering to babysit you. I'm just... I'm just asking to walk you home.”

You glance back at the entrance of their house, the warm lights and sounds spilling out into the cold night air.  You turn back to look at her, your voice softer this time. “You don't have to walk me home. We don't have to keep up the act anymore, I'm going home and... you've got better things to do than worry about me.”

“Screw the act. I'm walking you home. It's not up for debate.”

You stare at her, baffled by her insistence. “Seriously? What's the point, Vi? We're not together anymore. Why bother?”

Her jaw clenches, her shoulders tensing. You know she hates this. She hates hearing you say it. Her heart is on her sleeve, and you're tearing pieces out of it, right in front of her.

“Because I care!” she snaps. “Maybe it's hard for you to believe, but I still care about you.”

You shake your head, scoffing at her words. “No, no, no, you don't get to act like you care now. You're the one who broke up with me. You're the one who walked away and left me.”

“I made a mistake,okay? I was a damn idiot, and I screwed up.”

“A mistake?” you echo, scoffing again. “You ended everything, and now you want to walk me home? What, you think that makes up for everything? You think it’s that easy? You threw away everything we had like it meant nothing, like all those months we spent together meant nothing.”

Your voice is trembling with anger as you continue. “And then what did you do? You went around, throwing yourself at anyone that gave you a second glance, like I was nothing. Like I never meant anything to you. Yeah, I know all about that. So don't try to act like you actually care when you clearly didn't give two shits.”

She looks away, her jaw clenching. “I was trying to get over you. I was trying to push you out of my head and it hurts like hell. Every night, every morning, it was like there was a hole inside of me, and no matter how hard I tried to fill it, no matter how many times I went out, how many times I tried to forget you, nothing worked. You were stuck in my head, and I hated it.”

She takes a step closer to you. “I know it sounds stupid. I know it doesn't make any sense. I just... I needed something to distract me, something to keep me from thinking about you. Because it hurt too damn much to think about how much I messed things up.”

“Yeah, congrats. You did a damn good job at distracting yourself, huh? It sure as hell didn't take you very long to get over me.”

She winces again, the guilt written all over her face. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to reach out to you. How many times I thought about coming back to you and begging you to take me back.”

“But you didn't,” you say. “You didn't reach out to me, you didn't try to fix things. So why should I believe you now? Why should I believe that you're sincere when you didn't care enough to fight for us before?”

She looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “What was I supposed to do?” she whispers. “I messed up. I messed things up and I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to take back what I did, how to make things like they were before I messed up. All I know is that I miss you. I miss you so damn much, and I'd do anything to have you back.”

You swallow hard. Everything she's saying, it's everything you've wanted to hear for months. It feels like a dream.

But you can't let yourself fall back into this. Not when you've worked so hard to move on. Not when you've spent so many nights crying into your pillow, reminding yourself that she didn't care enough to fix things, to fight for you.

“Why now—Why do you want me back now, after all this time? Why didn't you want me back when it mattered, when I needed you?”

She looks up at you, desperation in her eyes. “Because I was an idiot! Because I was stupid, and scared, and I thought walking away would make it easier, but it just made it worse. Because I spent every damn night regretting that I let you go and wishing that I could take it all back. I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry for what I put you through.”

“Sorry doesn't fix things,” you say, your voice shaking. “Sorry doesn't take away the pain, sorry doesn't undo what you did.”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know saying sorry won't magically fix things, but I am sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you, I'm sorry for walking away, I'm sorry for everything I did wrong. Just... just give me a chance. Give me a chance to make things right.”

She takes another step forward, her eyes pleading. “Give me a chance. Let me prove to you that I love you and that I want to make things right. If I screw up again, you can toss me to the curb and never speak to me again. But please, just give me one more chance.”

“I don't know,” you murmur. “I just... I don't know.”

“I'll do anything. I'll get on my knees every day if I have to. I'll beg on my hands and knees. I'll crawl on my hands and knees. I'll grovel on the ground. Just... please, just give me one chance.”

“I'll think about it. Just...just give me some time to think things over.”

“Okay, okay. I'll give you time or whatever you need. Just please don’t shut me out completely.”

Without hesitation, she envelops you in a tight hug. Her arms wrap around your waist, her face burying into your neck. Her body clings to you, every part of her desperate and needy. “I miss you so much,” she mumbles.

You stand awkwardly, unsure of what to do. But then, your body betrays you, your arms slowly wrapping around her.

For the first time in a long while, you're holding her again. Her warmth, her scent, her touch—it’s all so familiar, so painfully familiar. So damn familiar that it hurts.

“I hate you.”

“I don't blame you.” She pulls back, her hands coming up to cup your face. She lifts her hand, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I hate you so much,” you repeat, a tear falling down your cheek.

“I deserve that,” she says, her thumbs wiping away your tear.

“Damn right you do.”

You have no idea what to do or what to feel. Everything is a mess, and you're drowning in it.

For now, all you could do was hold her tight and bury your face in her shoulder. 

You hated how good she felt against you and how right it felt to be held by her. 

Damn her for making things so confusing, for making you feel so damn much.

You felt her hand rubbing your back, her fingers tracing circles over your skin. It was a soothing gesture, a silent apology for all the pain she had caused. It only made things worse, making your heart ache even more.

If only things had been different. If only she had been more communicative. If only she had been more sensitive to your feelings. If only she had been there for you when you needed her.

If only she hadn't walked away and left you broken. If only she hadn't hurt you the way she had.

And most of all, if only you had been strong enough to push her away and protect yourself from this mess.

But here you are, standing in the middle of a street wrapped in her arms. You felt like a fool, like a damn idiot, for still wanting her after everything.

You wanted to hate her, you wanted to make her suffer the way you had suffered.

But how could you hate her when she was looking at you like that? how could you hate her when she was holding you like this?

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that she still had this kind of effect on you. 

Her eyes met yours, and you saw everything you had missed, everything you had longed for. and you knew, right then, that you were in damn trouble.

—

In the window, Vander and Silco watched you and Vi from afar, the soft glow of the christmas lights casting shadows over their faces.

Silco takes a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he exhales. “Your little plan worked quite well,” he says, looking at Vander with a sly smile.

Vander just shrugs, sipping his drink. “I don't know what you are talking about,” he replies, keeping his expression neutral.

“You're not fooling anyone.”

Vander hums, taking another sip of his drink. “I don't know what you mean,” he says again, keeping his gaze locked on you and Vi.

Silco let out a puff of smoke. “Don't play coy, Vander. You knew damn well what you were doing when you rigged that secret santa.”

“I may have had a little influence,” he admits.

“A little influence? oh, don't downplay it. You wanted them back together, and you knew exactly how to make it happen.”

“I have had a hunch that they still cared about each other,” he says, his voice casual. “And plus, I don't want to see Vi moping around for the past months.”

“And we couldn't have that, could we? seeing her moping around like a lovestruck puppy.”

Vander nods. “She was really terrible at hiding it,” he says. “always pacing around, always looking like she lost a puppy.”

Silco takes another drag of his cigarette, blowing rings into the air. “It was painful to watch,” he says, shaking his head.

“It was like watching a kid trying to hide a secret… I just hope they figure things out.”

“I agree,” Silco says, his eyes flickering over to you and Vi. “Hopefully they can work things out.”

“Only time will tell.”

They watch in silence, seeing how you and Vi are still holding each other.

“I still wouldn't forgive you for that damn underwear you got me.”

“That was the funniest thing you could have received.”

Vander grumbles, narrowing his eyes at Silco. “I do not find it funny to receive underwear as a gift.”

notes: idk what is happening

[sparklingblu]

A Christmas Carol

Ft. Sakura, Yunjin and Kazuha (and a slither of Irene)

~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~☆~

This is my christmas fic. Not really jolly but well..

The first snow of December fell lazily, like the sky itself had decided to procrastinate. Arbor's edge, a town that always felt too small and too big at the same time, was cloaked in a thin blanket of white. The streetlamps casted ghastly glows on the street jostling with cheerful people but to you, it felt more like a reminder that the holiday season was here, whether you wanted it or not.

You sat in the corner booth of a diner you were too lazy to memorize the name, nursing a cup of coffee that had long since gone lukewarm. The spoon scraped the bottom of the cup as you stir it mindlessly, having nothing better to do with your hands. Christmas music droned softly through the speakers - some old crooner crooning about snow and mistletoes. You hated mistletoes. Maybe you hated the way it made you remember her.

"Pie?" the waitress asked, her voice chipier in a way that made your teeth ache. Her name tag read Heather, and there was a spring of plastic holly pinned to her apron. Her smile was the kind that stretched too wide, like she's worried her friendliness wouldn't show.

You shook your head. "Just the coffee"

She hestiated for a second then jingled off back to the counter, her fake earrings chiming faintly. The lines on your face seemed to be etched deeper in the black surface of the coffee, swirling like a vortex from your stirs.

Outside, the street was alive with people bundled in scarves and parkas, carrying their holiday groceries and laughing at things you couldn't hear. The light strung along the buildings blinked in unison, a rhythm you found unnervingly cheerful. You sighed and turned your attention back to the window where frost patterns crept across the glass like a map to nowhere.

The coffee had gone cold, but you kept sipping it, more out of habit than need. It's a silent rebellion against the idea that you should leave and go home, where an old friend called emptiness awaited. You knew the routine too well: the dead silence of the apartment, the hum of the fridges compensating for the lack of conversation.

Somewhere behind the counter, Heather laughed like a blissful hyena at someone's joke. Mixed with the clinks of dishes, it's enough to make you feel more like a ghost than a person.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. 9:14 PM. Too early to call it a night but too late to do anything useful. The snow outside was starting to pick up, accumulating in thick layers that turns sidewalks into slick ribbons of slush. People were retreating into their homes, the streets emptying except for the occasional cars that passed by, their headlights cutting through the dark.

The bell above the diner's door jingled but you barely glanced up. Another customer. Someone you probably didn't know. Someone passing through. But the change their presence brought is unmistakable. You felt a shift in the air, like the pressure had dropped. The way it does before a storm.

"Pretty cold, huh?" Heather's voice rang out, too bright for her own good. You caught a glimpse of the new arrival from the corner of your eyes: a woman in a red velvet dress with white fur trim along the neckline and the hem. Like someone who just returns from a Christmas themed costume party. It's a wonder how she's able to withstand the cold in such a short dress.

You didn't mean to stare but something about her caught you. Maybe it was the way she strides without a hint of jolly christmas spirit - unlike most people this time of the year. Or it's the primal instinct of a male to indulge in the presence of a female. Either way, your eyes were fixed.

She slid into the booth and sat perfectly still, like she belonged here. She must know you had been staring because she returns your gaze with an intensity no less than yours. And you were breathtaken.

There could be two reasons for this. Actually, three.

The other party is monstrously ugly.

The other party is otherworldly beautiful.

You have gotten so drunk that you have started hallucinating.

Considering coffee was the only thing you had had the whole day, the second option is valid for this matter. Her face is angelic in a way angels could never be. From her dark irises to the curve of her chin, everything screams God's favorite. Maybe someone upstairs have decided to brought a blessing to your miserable holiday.

"Ethan Collaway" she said, voice soft but unyielding.

Your heart dropped. You had never met her. You were sure of it.

"Do I know you?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

The woman tilts her head slightly, as if she's amused by your question. "Not yet"

You blinked, trying to make sense of her words. She leaned back in her seat, folding her arms like she's disappointed by your confusion.

"Not yet?" you repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means" she smiled faintly. "that we are about to get very well acquainted. But there's no need to rush. Finish your coffee first"

You glanced down at the cup, now completely cold. "I think I'm done"

She raised an eyebrow, her expression hovering between pity and amusement. "Suit yourself. But you will regret wasting the small comforts later. You always do"

You shifted uneasily at her words. "Okay" you said. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"I know more than your name, Ethan" she leans forward now, resting her elbows on the table. Her eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment everything seemed to fade away - the hum of conversation, the clink of dishes, even Heather's festive laughter faded away, leaving only you and her in isolation.

"I know the weigh you carry" she continued, voice impossibly steady. "I know you sit in that apartment of yours, staring at walls that have nothing to say. Trying to fill the void in your heart with alcohol when you know there's only one person who can do the job. And I know you yearn for a second chance. An opportunity to set things right again" she pauses, breathe in. "But it's too late, isn't it? People regrets only when things are broken and can't be repaired. And when you hear laughter, like the kind outside this window" - she gestured towards the frost covered glass - "you tell yourself it's just noise. But deep down, you wonder what it feels like to laugh like that again. To feel loved.

You swallowed, your throat suddenly dry. "Listen. I don't know what game you're trying to play but-"

"No games" she interrupted. "Just the truth. And here's another: tonight is the first step. A choice, really. Stay as you are - alone and bitter - or take a chance on something different"

Your laugh came out shriller than you intended, the kind of defensiveness that only comes when someone hits a nerve. "Different? You speak like you're the Ghost of Christmas Past or something"

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Close. But I prefer Irene"

Before you can respond, the bell above the diner chimed again. You turned instinctively, expecting to see a customer. Instead, the room seemed to shift again, the air growing colder despite the warmth of the heater. When you looked back at the woman, she weren't there anymore.

She was standing beside you now, so close that her voice seemed to pierce right into your ears.

"Pay attention, Ethan" she warned, voice commanding. "The clock is ticking"

And just like that, the lights flickered, and everything went dark.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

The diner completely dissolved into blackness so complete it felt like falling into a void. For a moment, the only sound you could hear is the faint hum of your own pulse, racing so fast as if to catch up with reality.

Then a light appeared - small at first but quickly growing into a warm glow that engulfed everything. You blinked, trying to shield your eyes. But the action is not needed. Because this light didn't sting. It was different - soft and familiar.

When your vision cleared, you found yourself in an apartment. The smell of stale air filled your nose, mixed with the faint, phantom trace of something like jasmine. Or lavender. Something entirely hers.

This was your apartment, unmistakably. But it's a stark contrast to the mess it was now. The walls were bright with fresh paint. Not a trace of cobwebs or dust. The stacks of books were stacked neatly on a table. Everything was so neat. So in order. So her.

"It's funny" the woman, now known as Irene, mused behind you. "How this place had looked habitable. Like an actual home"

Reluctantly, you moved to a familiar spot by the couch - that spot you'd always leave your shoes no matter how much she grumbled about it. You looked up and there it was: The past you and Sakura.

She was standing at the kitchen counter, her hair falling in loose strands around her shoulders, a soft grin on her lips. She wore one of your oversized sweaters, sleeves too long for her hands but she didn't seem to mind it. She was holding a mug of something - probably tea - and she was laughing. At you.

"No, no, Ethan" she was saying in the familiar voice you had missed so much it hit you square in the chest when you heard it again. "You don't just pour the milk first. That's sacrilege. It's tea making 101"

You were standing across from her, arms crossed in mock defiant. "It tastes the same either way. You are just being picky"

She gasped, feigning outrage. "Picky? That's rich coming from a guy who needs his peanut butter spread to the edge on every sandwich"

You grinned then, leaning against the counter. "Details matter"

"And yet, you still don't understand tea", she teased, sipping from her mug. The light in her eyes shone brighter when she smiles - its warmth never failing to pull you in, no matter how bad your day was.

"See how she spoke so softly" Irene said behind the present you. "Even your stubbornness seemed smaller when she spoke"

The scene shifted like a film cutting to the next reel. Now, it was the couch - your couch, where the cushions were sunken just slightly on her sides. She was curled up against you, a book opened in her lap - probably Edgar Allan Poe - that neither of you were reading. Her fingers traced invisible patterns on your forearm, and your head rested lightly against hers.

"I think this is my favorite spot" she muttered, her fingers pausing their journey across your skin.

"Here?" you asked, shifting slightly to look at her.

"Here. There. Anywhere. With you" she answered, her eyes meeting yours like a silent dare for you to argue.

You didn't. Instead, you leaned in, pressing your forehead lightly against hers. A small gesture, but it mattered the world to you.

"Do you ever think about the future" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You hesitated, your hand brushing her cheek. "The future as in....?"

"As in us" she said, pulling back just enough to search your face. "Where we'll go. What we'll be"

"I think" you answered carefully, slowly. "that whenever we end up, I'll be fine as long as it's with you"

A laugh bubbled out of her, her cheeks tinted rosy with a blush. "That's too smooth. Did you practice that in the mirror?"

"No" you said, smiling despite yourself. "Now I'm glad I didn't screw it up"

She kissed you then - not hurried or desperate, but softly, like she was trying to memorize the shape of your lips against her. It's the kind of kiss that lingered forever long after it ceased.

The memory faded then, just as quickly as it had come. But your mind continued to play out the scene.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Fragment 1

"Mhmm, babe. Ugh, don't stop" Sakura's slender frame writhed beneath you as your cock entered and re-entered her wet slit in a steady rhythm. The old couch sunk and creak with each thrust you made, adding to the symphony of her beautiful moans. Unlike the soft, tender girl she mostly was, Sakura was vocal at sex - never failing to express her gratitude when your huge cock stretched her out. The neighbors next doors must be accustomed to the sound by now. You doubt these walls are thick enough to silence her pleas not to stop. You couldn't care less. Not now.

"Fuck. You are stretching me out so good. Don't stop babe. Oh My God" Sakura cried out as you gave her a particularly hard thrust, your tip kissing her cunt. And more curses and moans followed as you continued to hammer her cunt relentlessly. "Fuck. Fuck. Don't stop" she begs, her nails digging into your back. "Fuck me harder babe. Stretch my tight pussy with your huge cock"

See. This is what you loved about her. She's an angel, really but when you two got up close and personal, that angel is banished, fallen from grace. Instead, a demon possessed her. The kind that can't get enough of your huge cock stirring up her insides over and over. Always begging for more. Never satisfied. No matter how much you breed her.

Her walls clenched around you, milking your shaft as you took her over and over. You were as desperate as her for this. Because the feeling of her warm wet hole twitching around you was like nothing else. And she would say the same way about how good you filled her up. She already did, actually.

"You are so fucking tight, Sakura" you grunted as Sakura's pussy continued to squeeze you like a vice. "I'm going to ruin this little cunt. You are gonna be so full when I'm done with you"

"Yes, yea. Fuck me harder" Sakura screamed, her perky tits bouncing in your face. Unable to resist the sight, you lean down, putting one of her stiff nipples into your mouth. A jolt resonated through her body as you bite down gently, kneading the soft flesh between your teeth. "Make me your dirty little slut"

Who would think the girl who said nothing but sweet words to you would be begging to be your slut? But it's no longer a surprise, rrally. You have learned enough about Sakura's versatility. Forever your angel. Occasionally your slut.

"Fuck. You are going to make me cum" Sakura cried between each breath you took away with your brutal thrusts. Sweat had accumulated on her skin from the relentless pounding she took, dripping in clear streaks. Her eyes, dilated and hazy, did a better job than her words to speak about the onslaught of pleasure she's under.

Sakura's pussy is no easy hole to stretch but your hips kept bucking, as though driven by a supernatural force. You didn't care about how sore you must be the next morning nor how she wouldn't be able to walk for days after you were done. All you care about was this: the collision between your pelvises each time you make contact . The action itself more romantic to you than any tender gesture. This is connection- you two becoming one.

"i'm cumming. I'm cumming. I'm cummingggg" Sakura repeated the words like a mantra as she creamed on your cock, her back curving gracefully as her legs trembled. The way her walls pulsated around you as her juice gushed out was enough to send you over the edge. Soon, you were following her in the flight of bliss, pumping spurt after spurt of your warm load into her welcoming cunt.

It took a few more slow thrusts before you finally extracted your shaft out of Sakura's now spent hole. Your cum dripped out of her in a white streak as soon as the stuffing is removed. It stained the couch. Just like countless other times.

You studied Sakura's face, which now wore a peaceful, dormant mask. Her chest rised and fell steadily with her breath and her eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. Still, she doesn't fail to give you that warm smile that looked out of place in her current state. "You came a lot" she panted, then "I love you"

You didn't know if it's possible to replace lust with love right after sex but in that moment, you seemed to. "I love you too, Sakura. Always"

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

You blinked, coming back to your senses and turned to Irene, your throat tight. "Why are you showing me this?"

Irene's expression was unreadable. "Because she gave you something too good for you. Something you don't know how to hold. And you have been letting it slip through your fingers ever since"

You clenched your fists, the pain in your chest unbearble. "What do you want me to do? Go back? Fix it? It's too late. She's gone"

"Gone" she agreed, her voice soft. "But not forgotten. Maybe that's the problem"

Once again, the world blurred away into a swirl of white and green. When it settled again, you are standing on a path, flanked on both sides by tall, snow-dusted pines. The air was crisp, just the right amount of cold to be cozy. Snow fell steadily, softening the edges around everything - the lmapposts, the branches, the footprints trailing along the path.

And then you saw them.

You and Sakura.

She was walking slightly ahead, bundled in a red scarf and a cream coat that rebelled against the snowflakes. Her breath misted in the air as she turned to you - her younger self - her cheeks pink from the cold.

"Ethan, you are walking like a tortoise" she called, wearing that same warm smile. "It's not that slippery"

"Maybe I just don't want to catch up" younger you replied, voice light though his hands were fidgeting in the coat pockets.

Sakura rolled her eyes but she slowed down just enough to fall into steps beside you. The way she glanced at you then - curious expectant - was so small a gesture but it carried a familiarity that you could feel even now, watching from the sidelines.

"You've been so quiet all night" she nudged him with her elbow. "Something's wrong?"

The younger you hesitated, breath hitching. He stopped walking, snow crunching under his boots as he turned to face her.

"Okay" he answered, exhaling a cloud of white. "I have something to tell you. And it's probably the stupidest thing ever. But please bear with me for a moment....alright?"

Sakura blinked, surprised but her smile didn't falter. "Okay....?" she answered, drawing out each syllable carefully.

He reached into his pockets, pulling out a small, crumpled spring of mistletoe. He held it awkwardly in his hands, trying to keep them from trembling as he offered the mistletoe to Sakura.

"This" he began, swallowing hard. "is how I planned to say this. But I'm gonna do it anyway" You exhaled, meeting her gaze. "I love you, Sakura"

Everything was still for a moment. The world silent except for the steady rhythm of falling snowflakes. Then Sakura's eyes widened, breath hitching.

"Look. I know this is stupid. I totally get it if you don't-"

"No" Skaura interrupted. Then she smiled. She smiled? "You are an idiot"

"What?" the younger you blinked, puzzled.

"You are an idiot" she repeated, her smile growing wider. "You do realize you are supposed to hold that mistletoe above my head, right?"

"So...does it mean-"

He was unable to finish his question because he was instantly silenced by Sakura's lips that muffled his next words. The kiss was gentle at first but it quickly deepened into something fervorous - like their whole lives had been leading up to this moment and they were finally claiming what's rightfully theirs.

Your heart felt like it's being pierced through and through but you didn't tear your gaze away. You can still feel the cold bite of the air, the softness of her lips, the phantom warmth that lingered long after.

"Can't you see what you were destined for?" Irene asked but you can't formulate an answer, your throat tight with emotions. "You gave your heart to her that night. And she returned it with hers. For a while, at least"

You turned away from the scene, your voice thick. "And then I fucked everything up"

Irene didn't reply, only watching as the younger you and Sakura pulled apart, bursting out in laughter.

"You made a promise to her that night" Irene finally said. "One you let yourself forget"

The words lingered in the frozen air as the memory began to blur, snow swirling around you in a sudden, dizzying storm. Soon, everything is enveloped by a torrent of white.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

When your eyes came back into focus, you found yourself back in your apartment. Your breath caught in your throar. It was the old spit again - the couch - but this time, it was alive with a different kind of atmosphere. The heater hummed faintly, filling the silence and the warm light of a bedside lamp illuminated the small, familiar place. It's nothing unfamiliar.

Except that it wasn't Sakura's voice or presence that filled the room.

On the couch, sprawled out with heavy limbs is none other than yourself. The past you. Your shirt was half undone, and a woman who wasn't Sakura lied beside you, her sleek black dress painting an image of a vixen in the dim light. She leaned into you, her lips brushing against your jaw as you tilted your head back, your smile faint but unmistakable.

The present you stepped closer, stomach twisting in horror at the piece of memory you had tried to bury for so long. No. Not this.

"Please..." you begged, already knowing what's about to unfold. "Take me somewhere else"

But Irene stood firm behind you, her gaze unyielding. "This is what you must see"

The woman reached for a glass of wine on the table, tilting it ever so slightly as she swirled it with practiced ease. The way the liquid slosh around was almost hypnotic. "You are so tense" she commented as she runs her palm across your bare chest. "Sakura doesn't take care of you like this, does she?"

The past you flinched, sheathing your smile but you didn't pull away. "It's complicated" you muttered, running a hand through your hair.

"Is it?" the woman replied, her tone sharp. "Or are you too scared to admit I'm better than her?"

She leaned in, so close that her breath tickled your neck. "You just can't get enough of me, can you?" She blew a puff of hot air into your ears, the sensation unexpected but not unwelcomed. "You are never satisfied...."

You glanced at her, putting on a smile to hide your internal conflict. "It's not that simple"

"Isn't it?" she asked, tilting her head so that her hair fell over your shoulder in a pool of midnight silk. "You deserve someone better, Ethan. Someone who knows exactly what you need..."

Your gaze dropped to your laps. "That wouldn't be fair. She's....she's good to me"

The woman's lips curved into sly smile as she set down the glass back on the table. "Good isn't always enough, is it?" her voice dropped to a whisper, words brushing against your ear. "Don't you want more, Ethan? Don't you want me?"

"Don't..." you swallowed hard, resolve wavering as she shifted closer, her legs brushing against yours.

"Tell me" A kiss on your neck, leaving a crimson mark of her lipstick. "Who's better at this?" Another to your jaw. "Riding you. Blowing you. Being your good little....slut?" The last one was a soft brush to your ears that left you drunk in blissful sensations. More. You needed more.

"I can't..." the past you began, voice barely audible.

"Shhh, it's okay" she brought a finger to your lips, silencing you. "It's ok, Ethan. She doesn't have to know"

The present you clenched your fist, gritting your teeth. "Stop this. I fucked up, alright? I don't need to see it again"

"You traded your morals for momentary pleasure. And in doing so, you killed what you had with her"

You looked away, no longer able to comprehend the rewind of your mistakes. You have seen enough. Enough to make you feel like putting a bullet right through your head. But the human's mind worked in mysterious ways. Because it always fails to erase the memories people want to forget the most.

❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️ ❄️

Fragment 2

Her name was Yunjin. You remembered now. No, that's a lie. You have always remembered. She was a new hire in your company and things started off innocently enough. But to argue, most affairs usually do.

If confidence have a living embodiment, it would be Yunjin. She was sharp angles and quick wit, wearing ambition like a second skin. It's all evident in the way her heels clicked with purpose as she moved through the office.

It all began with a project, one where you and her were on the same team. Despite the endless nights of meetings and paperwork, Yunjin never seemed to falter, always keeping her cool. You admired that about her. And it should have stopped there. Pure innocent admiration.

Her communication skills were no less remarkable. She was easy to talk to, quick to joke, know exactly how to lighten the mood when the pressure becomes too much. Maybe that's what made you finally crumble.

On that fateful evening, you found yourself alone in the conference room after most of the office had emptied out. You were nursing a cup of tea, papers and stationary strewn across the table.

As if on cue, Yunjin entered the moment you lifted the hem of the cup to your lips like she wanted to ensure you couldn't interrupt her greetings.

"You look like you are about to collapse" she commented, leaning back in a chair close to yours with a smirk. She was in her usual office attire - white top and black overcoat paired with a pencil skirt of the same color so that when she crossed her thighs, her pale skin inevitably stood out.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence" you replied, setting the cup back down on the table.

She laughed, a low throaty sound. "Ethan. You are the reason this project just didn't crush and burn, you know?"

You let out an awkward chuckle, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. "It was a team effort"

"Sure" she said, leaning in - her top hanging just loosely enough to reveal a hint of clevage and you swalllow at the sight. It was wrong. But you are only human afterall. "But not everyone could've done what you did"

She inched even more closer and you told yourself that the hand she had come to place on your arm was nothing more than a gesture of companionship. But you couldn't deny the way it made something inside you stir. It's not love. Far from it. But it's equally intoxicating.

You cleared your throat, trying to find your footing. "You are giving me too much credit. It's a team effort"

"Humble, too. I like that" You shivered at the feel of her other hand that had come to rest on your leg. She's doing nothing more than simply placing her smooth palms on the fabric of your trousers. Yet, you can already felt your mamba growing rigid - her touch electric. A few more minutes of this and your boxers wouldn't be able to hide your erection.

You tried to focus on anything else - the clock on the wall, the stack of papers on your desk - but it was impossible to ignore the way she leaned forward, the curve of her collarbone catching the light.

"You know" she said, her tone playful. "You don't give yourself enough credit. You take care of everyone else but who take care of you?"

Sakura. That's who. But at that moment, you are at a lost for words. You tried to say her name out loud but the deep vortex of Yunjin's irises had pulled you in and every rational thought you had had been thrown out of the window.

You didn't know how it happened. When it happened. Everything passed by in a whirlwind of need and lust. The moment you came back to your senses, Yunjin was sprawled out on the long wooden table of the conference room. Everything on it has been shoved down to the floor. By you or her, you couldn't remember. You were looming right above her and you could only wish the table is strong enough to support both of your weights.

Your whole body was bare save for the unbuttoned shirt that hanged loosely on your frame. Yunjin's no different. Her overcoat had been casted away and her top was gone, revealing her perky tits. Your eyes wondered from the bent of her throat, down the planes of of her bare chest, all the way to her toned midriff, finally coming to rest on the nirvana between her legs, barred only by flimsy panties.

You felt your cock throbbing already - a sign of desperateness. All that occupied your mind was how Yunjin would feel around you when you finally penetrated her. She wouldn't fit around you like a glove instantly like Sakura does. But you didn't doubt you can mold this new hole to the shape of your cock. You have all the required qualities.

"Are you just gonna watch?" Yunjin reminded, shifting her body just a tad bit slightly to get comfortable on the hard surface. She didn't need to told you twice, your body is already aching enough for hers.

She let out the faintest of moans when you spread open her thighs, your eyes glinting with a predatory hunger - the kind only Yunjin can satisfy.

"You're mine now" The words of a mad man, fueled by lust. "And I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk straight"

Yunjin moaned, arching her back as you ground your cock against her clothed pussy. You could already feel the moistness of her juice seeping through the fabric and the dark spot on her panties grew even bigger when you gave your tip a couple of rub on it.

"Words mean nothing" Yunjin replied, crossing her arms behind your neck as you leaned in even closer. "Prove it. Show me how well you can stretch out my tight little pussy"

There, it would have been easy to blame it all on Yunjin, that she was the one who initiated the act and made you think of nothing but about pounding her to oblivion. But that wouldn't be fair because there was still a silver of semblance left in you even then. It's microscopic and easily clouded by lust. But right at that moment you were about to cross the boundary of no return, a tiny voice remined you of her - of Sakura. It told you how much she put her trust in you. How she expected you to do the same thing. That you were betraying her trust by doing what you were going to do next. You should have stopped then. You could have.

But you couldn't.

With a grunt, you tore Yunjin's panties away, baring her dripping cunt to your hungry gaze. There was no time for foreplay. Foreplay is for slow romantic sex, which this isn't.

You slammed your cock into her tight heat with one brutal thrust and her walls opened up willingly. There's no doubt this bitch had taken poundings before. Not a chance she's a virgin with a hole this used. But still, somehow someway, it retained its tightness - so tight it almost seemed natural.

"Fuck you are so tight" you groaned, pulling back and slamming back in, earning a jolt through her body. "I'm going to fuck your brains out. Until your hole become so loose it needs a cock to stuff it shut"

Yunjin screamed, her nails digging into your back as you pounded into her over and over. The table creaked beneath you, threatening to give way under the force of your thrusts.

"Yes, yes! Fuck me harder" she cried, wrapping her legs around your waist. "Ruin me with your big fat cock. Make me forget my own name"

You obliged, slamming into her pussy with wild abandon. The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin and the wet squelch of her cunt as you fucked her hard and fast. But it's not all about the way she's milking your shaft with her walls. It's also the vision - the sight before you. Yunjin can and will get anything she want. There's no doubt. The way she hold herself - so calm and composed is enough to make others drip with envy. But right now, under the onslaught of your beastly thrust that rapidly violated her hole, moaning and groaning words of submission, she is no longer the confident woman. Instead, it's a desperate whore that craved your cock whose pussy is being claimed.

"Fuck. You are probably the biggest cock I have ever take" Yunjin praised, though it's hard to say with her rolled-up eyes. "You are gonna have to exclude me from the meeting tomorrow. I don't think I can -"

Yunjin was instantly silenced as all ten fingers of yours closed around her throat, depriving her of oxygen. But she deserved it. With the way she acted like your cock's the best thing in the world.

"What were you saying?" you asked. Yunjin could only make incoherent sounds as her mouth stayed agape like a fish on land. This wouldn't be painful to her. You know that much. Actually, it will turn on this slut even more.

Sakura could never. You thought. Despite her taste for rough sex, Sakura couldn't go this extreme. One time, you slapped her face in the heat of the moment and that girl actually got all teary.

No. Why were you comparing? Why were you even thinking about her?

"Tell me bitch" You asked again. No answer. Just more ragged breaths. As if to compensate for her silence, Yunjin's walls clenched around you even more, trying to answer with their tightness that she, indeed, was enjoying this. Yunjin stayed true to her words: "Words mean nothing". She's trying to prove herself through action.

Just when you thought Yunjin was going to pass out from the lack of air, her body tensed up as she creamed herself on your cock. The climax was unexpected as she wasn't given any chance to warn you. But you welcomed it gladly with more bucks of your hips as you prolong her bliss as long as possible.

Finally, Yunjin came down from her high and you released your hold on her neck, leaving a faint red mark that told the story of your dominance.

"I'm not done yet. You know that, right?" Your reminder wasn't needed. Yunjin had recovered in seconds, now getting on all fours as she leveled her face with your cock.

"Let me clean you up" she said before diving down on your cock. Soon, you found out her pussy isn't the only hole she can utilize to full potential. The warmth that enveloped your length brought you a different kind of pleasure. You tilt your head back, exhaling as you relish in the feeling of her tongue tracing every inch. How many heads had she given? You have no idea. But anyone could guess the number's easily a double digit if they were in your shoes.

She slurped on the cock like it's the tastiest thing in the world. Maybe it's the taste of her own juice on your shaft. Or maybe, she's just a cock depraved whore. Either way, you got the same treatment.

She didn't take you all the way - keeping half of you in her mouth while her hands stroked what her mouth couldn't reach. And there was no combination more lethal as each pair of stroke and lick send a shockwave through your core that have your toes curling.

"Mhmm" Yunjin licked her lips as she released you from her mouth. She looked up at you with dazed eyes as her hand keeps pumping your cock, spreading her drool from base to shaft. "Look how much you are twitching. You're gonna cum?"

She's wasting her words on a question you both knew the answer to. But you couldn't deny it was extremely hot. Who doesn't like a pretty girl worshipping their cocks?

Your simple nod was enough to let her proceed, as she took you back into the heat of her mouth. This time, she didn't make use of her hands. Instead, she impaled herself on your cock - taking it all the way down her throat. A loud gag escaped as it breached her gag reflex until her nose was pressed against your pelvis.

"Fuck" you cursed. She was bent down all the way in this position, her back curved and ass raised. And you didn't miss the chance to grab a feel of her buttocks, earning a moan that resonated through your mamba. A string of glag glag glag bounced around the room as Yunjin continued to fuck her throat on your cock over and over. A puddle of her drool has formed on the table. You made a mental note to clean it up. There's not much reasonable excuses for a pool of drool.

Sakura could never. There's the thought again. Don't be mistaken. Sakura blows your cock very well. To be honest, she loves it as much as you do. Especially, when you filled her mouth with your cum. But her throat wasn't meant for brutal use like Yunjin's was.

Does it matter? No. Stop thinking about Sakura.

The familiar knot unraveled in your stomach. You could no longer hold back as you pumped spurts after spurts of your thick load down Yunjin's throat. And she took it very welll, keeping your cock stuffed down her throat as she held it there like a good girl.

She finally released your cock with a loud pop, strings of saliva still connecting it to her mouth. "Thanks for the big load" Yunjin said while she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You really needed that, huh?"

Do you? Now no longer clouded by the mist of lust, doubts started to fill the gaps where the past passion had been. Wrong. This is all wrong. What have you done? How are you gonna face Sakura again?

This is a one time thing. Yes. A mistake made by unmonitored desires. It can't be undone. But it can be stopped. No one have to know. Sakura doesn't have to know. You will forget it over a couple shots. You wouldl be better next time.

But you weren't.

And in the end, you only had yourself to blame.

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You grounded yourself back to reality. No use crying over spilled milk. You have lived with regret your whole life. What use is it to worsen the pain?

You were still in the apartment, though now it was empty, the furniture gone, the walls stripped bare.

Irene stood a few feet away, silent as ever, watching you with that same unflinching gaze.

You staggered back, running a hand through your hair. "You didn't need to show me that" you said. "I know what I did"

Irene tilted her head slightly, a gesture bordering on pity. "Knowing is not the same as understanding" she said, her voice a distant echo.

You shook your head, clenching your fists to the side. "There's nothing to understand. I regret it, ok? Isn't that enough?"

"Is it?" Irene asked, stepping closer. "Or do you regret being caught more than the act itself? Do you regret the pain you caused her or do you regret the pain it left in you?"

Her words hit too close to home and you turned away, staring at the faded imprint of a picture frame that once hung on the wall - a reminder of what this place had once been. You could still hear the echo of Sakura's laughter that had resonated in this room.

"This is what you traded for a moment of weakness" Irene's voice appeared once more. "An emptiness that echoes in your heart, in your life. And you know very well it's your own fault. Yet, you let it spiral"

You swallowed hard, trying to find your next words. With difficulty, you managed to speak through your tight vocal cords. "It doesn't matter" you said, voice trembling. "I can't change it. I can't undo what I did"

"No" Irene agreed. "But you can confront it. You can stop running from the truth, no matter how ugly it is"

You turned back to her, searching for something in her otherworldly features - absolution, maybe, an answer to all of this. But all you found was her cold, unyielding gaze.

"What now?" you asked quietly.

Irene extended a hand, and the apartment faded around you, replaced by the faint flicker of something new.

"Now" she said. "we see the consequences of your actions"

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The world crumbled and rebuilt around you in the form of a late autumn evening. The air was crisp but heavy, carrying the scent of leaves and the distant promise of winter. A stark contrast to the snow-draped beauty of the Christmas night when you first confessed to Sakura.

Now, autumn loomed like an unwelcome guest. The trees lining the path were skeleteal, their branches gnarled and reaching out to the gray sky like twisted hands. The ground was a mess of fallen golden leaves.

Sakura stood across the past you, her arms crossed against the chill, though it was obvious it wasn't the cold that's making her shiver. Her scarf - a pastel pink you had bought her for Christmas long ago - coiled around her neck elegantly.

"Say it" she demanded, her voice trembling. "Say it Ethan"

"Kkura, I-"

"Don't lie to me!" she snapped, her sharp voice cutting through the still autumn evening. The brittle leaves crunched as she shifted her weight. "Just...don't. Please"

She looked at you for a fleeting moment, and for a heartbeat, she resembled the Sakura from that snowy christmas - the one whom you had poured your heart out to, the one who had said 'yes'. But now, the light in her eyes was a gone, replaced by a storm of pain and anger.

"Let me hear it from you" she whispered, her voice on the edge of breaking. "Don't make me piece it together from hints and whispers. Please"

You dropped your gaze, deeming yourself no longer worthy to hold hers. The autumn wind picks up and the leaves swirl as if to mock your silence.

"It was a mistake" you muttered, voice barely audible.

"A mistake?" she repeated, her laugh bitter and wounded. "You don't acidentally cheat on someone Ethan. You don't just trip and fall into someone's bed"

You were once again remined of the pine-lined path, her standing there with snowflakes in her hair, her laughter so carefree like she's the happiest person on earth. Now, that warmth was nothing but lost, extinguished by you.

"It didn't mean anything" you pleaded, voice desperate. "I swear it didn't mean anything ,Kkura"

She shook her head, the motion quick, like she was trying to expel you from her memory. "Do you even understand what you have done? What you have taken from me?"

"I-"

"No. Let me tell you" she interrupted, her tone gaining strength as her eyes glistened. "You have taken every moment I trusted you, every second I thought was safe with you, and you have crushed them Ethan. What did I do wrong? What part of me wasn't enough?"

"Stop" you whispered, voice trembling. "Just stop"

"No" she said firmly, leaves crunching beneath her boots as she steps closer. "You don't get to ask me for anything after this. Not now. Not ever"

You looked at her then, really looked. And the pain in her face tore through your heart like a thousand daggers.

"Sakura, please" you begged, scrambling for scraps. "I regret all of it, ok? I regret everything. Please, I-"

She let out a hollow laugh, one that seemed to make the dying branches overhead shattered. "Funny how regret comes too late"

Sakura took a step back, her shoulders stiff, her hands trembling as she wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck. She hesitated for a moment, before looking at you straight in the eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Ethan" she said coldly, the words laced with brutal finality. "I hope it was worth it"

And then she walked away, her form growing smaller in the dying twilight until she had been reduced to nothing but a distant dream. The rustle of the wind reflected the hollow of your own regret.

The present you watched, unable to cry, unable to make a sound. Because you knew it was your very own actions which have lead to this. Do criminals cry over the unspeakable deeds they have commited?

"There" Irene's voice appeared once more. "Winter held promise. Autumn held loss. And you let it all fall away"

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You didn't even notice the shift in scenery this time - your mind too exhausted with emotions. What Irene wanted to show you, you didn't care anymore. You had seen enough. Seeing more will bring nothing but pain.

But you stared at the new scene before you like a lifeless ghost.

It was your apartment, again. You wanted to burn the place down at this point. Maybe the pain will crumbled to ashes that way. Anything to escape the ever nagging regret.

It was Christmas time - the fist Christmas without Sakura. The scent of her baked cookies and the hum of hers to Last Christmas was nowhere to be found, though the song played on lazily from an unattended television nearby. The sound of traffic beyond the windows seem more melodic.

The you of that very moment? On the bed, tangled in sheets but there's nothign cozy about that. You looked like a corpse, still and unmoving - lost in thought. Your bare body does nothing to aid cancel out the vision.

But you weren't alone. No. Though you actually were, deep down, your physical self weren't. The woman lying next to you is unfamiliar in ways that only someone you're totally ignorant of would be. Her name escaped you, though it had been exchanged over shots at the bar you didn't even like. She was asleep, her bare shoulder peaking out the tangle of sheets.

You searched her face for a few moments, trying to find something firm in those beautiful features but only finding emptiness. You sat up, swinging your numb legs last night had taken a toll on and ran your fingers through your nest of hair. The room smelled faintly of her perfume - too strong for your taste. Nothing like the clean, subtle one Sakura always wore.

Sakura.

You pressed your palms to your face, trying to ground yourself - make peace with reality and escaped the past - but the pain has d rooted deep inside, growing deeper each day. And your worst enemy had become yourself.

"Does it feel better?" Irene asked, studying the confusion flashing across your eyes. "To indulge in the pleasure of the flesh - a momentary escape from reality. But it never fills the void, does it? It only digs it deeper"

You didn't answer. Not because you have no words but because you are too tired. Too tired with yourself.

"Look, Ethan. This is your present. A hollow bed. A hollow life"

Just then, the girl in your bed stirred and shifted and you caught a clear view of her face, though curtained by her silky locks. It's not Yunjin, no. You had parted ways long ago. This one will soon follow the same fate. Your head pounded and so did your heart. There, you are reminded again.

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Fragment 3

The thing about one-night stands is they are supposed to last for a night and then forgotten. But that title wouldn't suit Kazuha because this was the third night you found yourself with this beauty. Maybe, this is a new addiction apart from the countless shots you had downed in the bar. Or maybe, it's the way she sucked your cock so well on your very own bed.

"Mmph...does it...feel...good...." Kazuha asked through slurps and licks as she feasts on your cock - tongue swirling around your slit before poking your tip to the inner wall of her cheeks, making it bulge. Her face there - ruined so perfectly with mascara running down her eyes and drool spilling from her lips only served to earns a grunt from you. Not to mention her bare body, ass raised to show off her thick cheeks.

"Mhmm...I think I'm doing good" Kazuha deciphered the answer herself as she released your cock from her warm hole. "Look at all this precum. You like my pretty mouth on your cock that bad, huh?"

The answer was unnecessary and Kazuha proceed to plant kisses along your throbbing shaft before coming back up to collect the precum from your leaking slit, all the while maintaning eye contact.

"Can't wait to taste your thick load" she muttered dreamily as she swallowed you again. The pleasure that flooded your brain was phenomenal and you had to try not to buck your hips. Kazuha had already demanded to be the one in charge. And you didn't want to left cockblocked.

Kazuha seemed to sense your desperateness because she took more than half of your shaft into her mouth, cheeks hollowing as she sucked the life out of you.

"Kazuha...fuck. Don't stop" you mumbled, your body in absolute bliss. And she didn't plan to. Because she liked choking on your cock as much as you loved fucking her pretty little mouth.

She went deep, lodging your meat into her throat. She held it there, eyes unblinking as she watched your distorted face of a victim of lust. The tightness and the warmth was like nothing, squeezing your shaft in all the right ways. Kazuha was born to be a cocksucker. No doubt.

She finally drew back, gliding her lips up across your meat until it came off with a pop, a string of drool still clinging to your slit.

"Now are you gonna fuck my face or what?" she asked, and that instantly became your favorite question in this hollow life.

"Gladly" you answered as you held her hair in a makeshift pony tail, lowering it gently until your tip has disappeaered into her moist lips. Her eyes gleamed, a silent challenge. And you are not the one to back down from challenege.

You immediately starts dunking her head on your cock again and again and again, obscene gags escaping her throat as your tip speared into her oral hole. A couple strands of her raven locks ame undone, falling and sticking with drool to her face.

"You like it, hmm? You like me using your throat like a fleshlight, you cocksucking bitch" you asked as Kazuha can only respond in more gags and chokes. Her eyes water, the tears mixed with the mascara flowing in tiny rivers across her cheeks - an absolute vision of a slut. Did she wear it on purpose so that it paint her when you fuck her face?

Her throat is brusied by now, no matter how strong of a throat of steel she possesed, no girl came out of this kind of pounding unscathed. But she didn't seem to care because she took it like a champ as you use her mouth like your very own sextoy. Afterall, this is what she asked for.

You let her go for a moment, pulling her face off your cock in one swift pull. She gasped, drool spilling in waterfalls as she huffed like a bitch in heat.

"You really didn't hold back, huh." she asked, voice raw from the brutal thrusts. "I bet you are addicted to my throat. Wouldn't be surprised if you can no longer cum from your hands alone"

"You talked too much for a cock drunk whore" you complimented her as you tighten the grip on her hair, making her scalp burn. "Now, suck me off until I feed you that load you so desperately crave"

"Mhmm, with pleasure" No more words were needed after that as Kazuha dived back down on your cock, devouring it like the cock hungry beast she is. It's messy and sloppy. She no longer choked on your cock but the way she's slobbering all over the upper half of your length was more than enough to make you levitate.

Her hands cockscrewed what her mouth couldn't reach while she bobbed her head up and down as she fucked her face on your cock. If her face was messy then, it was even messier now - a filthy canvas of drool and tears and mascara. The picture of a pretty woman so degraded finally made you break.

Kazuha moaned around your cock as you erupted in her mouth, sending shots after shots of your hot thick load down her throat. And she didn't let up, sucking you through your bliss with undiminishing fervour.

After what felt like an endless ride of bliss, she finally pulled you out of her mouth but not before giving your spent rod a couple licks.

"Didn't I do good, daddy?" she asked, the name sending a shiver down your spine.

But as soon as the bliss is over, the regret came. Sakura. You never knew how much power she held over you. How badly you needed her. Kazuha's blowjob was mind numbing but not enough to numb the ever-growing pain in your heart. But if sex could make you forget it for just a moment, you will gladly took it.

Kazuha wriggled her ass in a suggestive rhythm, oblivious to your inner thoughts. "Daddy, can you fuck my ass next?"

Anything to block out the pain.

Really, anything would be ok.

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You blinked, and suddenly, you were back to the present - the diner. It was still the same place, same scent of coffee and grease lingering in the air but the weight in your heart felt heavier, like it might crush you entirely.

Irene was back in her initia position across you in her booth, studying you with those cold eyes tht betray no feelings.

"You've seen it" she said, shifting in her seat and her christmas-themed dress didn't look so awkward to you anymore. "What you've lost. What you've become"

You tighten your fists on the table. "I know okay? I fucked up really bad. And I'm suffering the consequences. Happy?"

She raised any eyebrow. "Do you? Because knowing is not the same as doing"

You looked away, your gaze landing on the window. The streets were deprived of life now and the snow fell as relentlessly as ever, enveloping the world in white. You wished you could see the beauty in it once more.

"What am I supposed to do?" you asked, your voice low. "I can't just undo everything"

"No" Irene agreed, leaning forward. "But you can decide what you will do next"

Your jaw tightened. "And what am I supposed to do? She's gone. She hates me. There'a no coming back from that"

Irene'a gaze softened just slighty. "Sakura's wounds might not be yours to heal, Ethan. Some damage can't be undone. But your life - your choices - they are all yours. You can keep running from them, hiding youself in regret and pain or you can face them"

Somewhere distant, Heather's hyena laugh erupted again though this time, you envied her. When was the last time you can laugh like that?

"And what does that even look like?" you asked, throat tightened.

Irene gestured to the diner around her. "That's not for me to tell you. But you have already knew the answer, don't you? You always have"

You stared at her, a realization sinking deep into your heart. "You are saying I should go for her"

Irene tilted her head. "I'm saying you need to stop running from yourself. Whether that means going to Sakura or not....it's up to you. But if you don't, you will stay here" She gestured vaguely, encompassing more than just the diner. "A hollowed out version of yourself. Is this what you want?"

You studied your reflection in the murky surface of the cold cup of coffee. You had seemed to age in minutes. Was it the weight of revisiting the memories you had locked up for so long?

"No" you whispered. "This ia not what I want"

Irene leaned back, gaze unwavering. "Then decide, Ethan. You can't rewrite the past, but you can write the next chapter"

For a long moment, you were silent, staring out of the window at the dark, snowy Christmas night.

When you looked up, the ghost was gone.

The diner had grown quiet, save for the ocassional clinking of utensils. The clock indicated 11 sharp. Time had flown in a blink.

Just as you decided to leave, the bell on the dier doll rang again, welcoming a new arrival. You didn't want to look up. Enough hocus pocus for one night. But you did anyway. And you are not sure if you should be glad or regret that you did.

"Sakura?"

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Happy Holdiays Everyone.

[latetaektalk]

love to hate you | jjk [viii]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: sexual themes, angst, fluff, fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: 18.351

— warnings: swearing/cursing, communication skills nowhere to be found, chronic overthinking, emotional rollercoaster, confusingly set during christmas <3

— a/n: and just like that we've crossed 100k !! its here, the big one. by far one of my favourite chapters that ive written so far!! hope you guys enjoy it!! praying yall wont hate me for this one haha once again, this is inspired by To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han!

You didn’t miss the look Chaeyoung and Jisoo exchanged, or the way Hoseok longingly looked after Jimin as he quickly walked away to get everyone some food after you sat down, or how Jimin muttered something about how someone clearly needed something to eat. The comment didn’t bother you because he was right and you could admit as much.

The mall had never been your favourite place to go, and even less so today. The Christmas decoration put up around you seemed overly tacky and in bad taste, and you could have ripped off your ears, sick of listening to the same three Christmas songs over and over again. You closed your eyes that ached from the bright colourful lights, and scrunched your nose when your arm bumped into one of your shopping bags. Your patience hung by a string, the fibers breaking with every passing second. Everything hurt, from your head to your arms and your feet.

Nothing was right, and there seemed to be no end to it.

“Fries?” 

Jimin specifially offered them to you, placing two medium plates of golden fries in the middle of the table. You took him up on it, taking two and throwing them into your mouth. The fries were bland and not salty enough but you took three more pieces, shoving your face full. As if the grease and carbs would fix anything. 

“Do you wanna try the thrift store that Ji suggested?” Chaeyoung asked, choosing her words carefully, and you cringed, shaking your head. 

“No.”

The silence continued, and you didn’t miss the looks your friends exchanged. There was clearly a conversation going on over your head, but you didn’t care, reaching for one fry after the other.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be fine,” Jimin said in the end, putting his arm around your shoulder. Bold, but when was he not. “Don’t be so down. That one dress- the beige one looked great on you!”

“Yeah, but also, they don’t care about what you wear,” Jisoo continued, not allowing you to even begin to disagree.

“And you still have time to find the perfect thing, right? If you do decide that the dress isn’t up to standard. Didn’t you get some stuff online too?” Hoseok asked, trying to get you to look at him, but you just closed your eyes and pulled your lips into a line.

They didn’t get it. But telling them that would be of no use, just like how their words didn’t encourage you the slightest bit. 

“I promise you Kook’s parents are really the sweetest people I’ve-”

“Yeah, maybe, I don’t know,” you mumbled, cutting off Jimin. You rubbed your eyes until you saw black spots. With a sigh, you leaned back. “I’ll figure it out, I think.”

There was no confidence in your words. To you, it seemed like your life was about to end, all over a stupid outfit you couldn’t put together. The thought almost made you laugh and cry at the same time. This was as ridiculous as it could get. 

“What did Kook say?” Chaeyoung asked, and you frowned.

“About what?”

She blinked at you, her brows creasing together. “Well, have you talked to Kook about any of this? How you’re worried about meeting his parents?”

You pressed your mouth into a line, and you didn’t even know where to begin. It seemed futile to you to explain that you possibly couldn’t tell Jungkook about all of the thoughts suffocating your mind. You would look stupid, like an absolute fool. You would look like you cared, and really, you didn’t. It would weird him out—how much you stressed about it, how much it was on your mind. But then again, really, actually, you didn’t care at all. You just were… especially irritable these days. Hormones were raging—your period, of course, greeting you just a day prior.

“No,” you exhaled, shaking your head. You didn’t know what exactly you were denying—you being stressed about meeting his parents, or you not talking about it to him. Probably both. “He’s busy with his stuff. He’s got a paper to finish- it’s fine.”

And even though you closed your eyes, you knew your friends were looking at each other. There was a carefulness with which they spoke to you, and you did feel bad. Just nothing seemed to lift your spirits.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t been in… a good mood these days,” you told them, getting more annoyed at yourself for being the way you were. You hid your face in your hands. “I don’t know what’s up with me.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin assured you. “We know you’re stressed.”

Jisoo placed an arm around you, leaning her shoulder against yours. She opened her mouth before closing again, ultimately she decided to speak. 

“What if… you don’t go?” 

“Ji,” Jimin whispered, looking at her as if she had just suggested something criminal.

“I’m just saying— it’s stressing her out so much, maybe she shouldn’t go.” Jisoo shrugged, believing her suggestion to be rather harmless. “She can meet his parents another time, right?”

You looked at her. She grimaced, apologetic, about to backpedal, taking your expression as offence. But you waved her off. Her suggestion was meant well, you knew that. It would also be more than a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it too. Of course, you had. But you couldn’t do it. Not when the image of Narae popped into your mind every time you did consider it. 

“Okay, fine,” Jisoo sighed, relenting. “But I’m just saying he’ll understand if you don’t want to go. It’s not like you guys are getting married.”

Chaeyoung mumbled something to her, but you couldn’t hear it. If you had to guess she told her to lay it off, which you were admittedly thankful for.

“I don’t even have gifts,” you groaned, remembering that your outfit wasn’t the only issue plagueing your mind. “Do I bring an actual gifts? Or just wine? Flowers? Something more personal? I don’t fucking know.”

“Do you have to bring them anything?” Hoseok asked, frowning. “I mean yeah, I guess it’s Christmas and you’re meeting them for the first time, but I don’t know, I’m not sure if you have to bring them anything.”

“I don’t think you do. They’re just happy to meet you, I promise,” Jimin said, squeezing your shoulder, but somehow, his answer annoyed you even more. Because what if he was wrong? And they use it as a reason as to why they didn’t like you because you showed up empty handed? Poor and rude? You wouldn’t even take a single step in their home. And even if Jimin was right, that they were just happy to meet you—it seemed even worse. Because all you had to show for yourself to Jungkook’s parents then would be…. yourself. 

And what if that wasn’t enough?

You groaned, leaning back again. Everything was making your situation only worse, giving you an even bigger headache, feeding the heavy pit in your stomach. And as you spiraled, you didn’t notice the rather obvious text Chaeyoung send, or the even more obvious way Jimin’s phone lit up on the table to display it, just for him to quickly grab it and start typing. Jisoo leaned over to look, and Chaeyoung quickly mumbled something into Hoseok’s ear. You wouldn’t even notice the way Chaeyoung jumped when you spoke suddenly again,

“Let’s just finish eating and go home. I wanna go home.” 

No one protested.

By the end, the fries were gone and the grease had eaten through the recycled brown paper plates, and your mood wasn’t much better, still the same level of annoyance always buzzing in the back of your mind. Grabbing the bags from the various shops you had walked in and out of with your friends today, you made your way out of the mall. Stepping outside, you hugged yourself, the wind harsher than the past few days. 

“What way is your car again?” you asked, teeth gritting. Your question was aimed at Chaeyoung, but you didn’t have the nerve to look at her. With the tip of your boot, you scraped against the concret, enjoying the way it rolled back and forth. You lifted your head when no one would answer, confused by the silence.

“Oh, uh,” Chaeyoung began, glancing at Jimin who was typing away on his phone. “Give us… a minute.”

She said it as if it was a question, gesturing for you to wait. You looked over to Jisoo and Hoseok for some sort of explanation, but they both kept their mouths shut.

“Where’s your girlfriend’s car?”

Hoseok blushed, and you knew he still wasn’t used to the development of his and Chaeyoung’s relationship. It was cute, and it did make you smile a little.

“Just tell me.” 

You tried nice. Nice didn’t work.

“I-I don’t know.” 

You sighed, your hands on your hips, shopping bags knocking on your legs. The cold wavered your voice.

“Ji?”

But rather than even say anything, or make an attempt to stall you, she waved you off, flicking her wrist back and forth. At least, Hoseok and Chaeyoung tried to dismiss you subtly.

“Oh my God, what are you guys looking at? Can we just go home, I’m really cold here and I just wanna-”

“Ah, yes, he’s here!” Jimin exclaimed before slapping his hand over his mouth, eyes wide. “Oops.”

You stopped, not needing a second to understand. Jisoo punched his arm. 

“You texted Jeon?”

If you were upset and annoyed before, you were even more so now. You leaned forward, as if the reality weighed down on you and physically pushed you. Your eyes darted back and forth between your friends before ultimately landing on Jimin, who was shrinking in on himself.

“Are you guys for real?” you hissed, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You could have ripped out your hair. “But why?”

Everyone looked to Chaeyoung. “We- we think it’d be good if you talk to him. You’re clearly stressed about meeting his parents, so why not talk about it?”

She added on a smile, and you closed your eyes, groaning. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” You dug your hands through your hair, looking over your shoulder, relieved to see that he was nowhere. “Where is he? Is he here already? Tell him to go home. He has a paper to-”

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, and you didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Go home.”

“Damn, hi, it’s nice to see you too, cabbage,” Jungkook laughed, grinning at you even as you frowned at him. He pinched your nose, and you didn’t even have it in you to swat his hand aside, closing your eyes instead. 

“You guys weren’t kidding. She’s in a bad mood.”

Your frown deepened, mouth setting into a thin line. Jungkook squeezed your shoulder, quietly apologising to you for his comment, but his smile remained on his lips. 

“Alright, I think—” Chaeyoung hooked her arm into Hoseok’s. “—it’s time to go.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll take her home,” Jungkook said, nodding to confirm his own words. “Get home safe.”

“Great, text us when you get home,” Jisoo said, waving at you. “We love you, Y/N! And oh, nice scarf!”

Jungkook laughed, thanking her.

“Yeah, good luck, Kook! Also love ya, Y/N!” Jimin laughed before taking off, sprinting ahead, scared you might just throw one of your bags after him. (Which you were strongly considering) The others waved you goodbye, and even though you were more than ticked off, you did the same, mumbling a goodbye their way. God knows they had put up with your attitude with enough grace today already. You sighed once they left your sight, shrugging off Jungkook.

You looked at him and your gaze softened, if only a little. Even more so when you saw it, wrapped around his neck so prettily. There was something very messy about him today—his hair not done in its usual way, hanging into his eyes, getting longer each time you saw him, the collar of his coat not folded down properly. If you had to guess, he had walked out the moment he got the text from Jimin. But he had thought of your scarf, looped it around his neck carefully. Looking at him now, out in the cold, you were glad you had invested the time into learning how to knit. The scarf suited him, the red matching him well. You were almost tempted to knit another one, one in every colour.

“You’re wearing the scarf.”

“Of course,” he returned, smiling at you, and you wondered if his cheeks hurt, red from the cold. 

The thought embarrassed you. You looked down, returning to rolling the tip of your boot on the conrete, back and forth, back and forth.

“Go home.”

“Okay, yeah, let’s go home together.”

He reached to take the bags from you, but you pulled away, lifting your head. “No, Jeon, go home. I’m fine.”

Jungkook shoved his hands into his pockets, shaking his head. This wasn’t going to be easy, he realised. “And how will you get home?”

His question made you frown, as if that was the issue at hand right now. You almost scoffed.

“I’ll walk-”

“Right, because walking in the cold is such a good idea, hm?

“Fine, I’ll take the bus.”

“Do you even know where the next bus station is?” 

“I can look it up.”

“Or you can just, you know,“ he leaned towards you, and you couldn’t back off, “not be so stubborn and let me just give you a ride home.”

You pursed your lips, shaking your head. Why was he being oh so frustrating? Why couldn’t he make this easy for you? Why wasn’t he at all discouraged by your behaviour? It didn’t make any sense to you. He should be annoyed with you and your attitude, infuriated because you were being difficult for no real reason. And yet, he smiled and laughed at you, showed you patience. It was strange to you, unexpected.

“I never asked you to pick me up.” 

It was like you were a goddamn teenager, fighting with her parents, trying your very best to tick them off. It was like you wanted him to be mad at you, and in some ways, in some real ways, maybe you did. You felt sorry for your friends about your attitude, but not with Jungkook somehow. For some reason, you couldn’t extend the same empathy to him. At least not in this moment.

He didn’t say anything, hesitated, his brows creasing together. His eyes darted to the ground before ultimately finding you again, tongue in his cheek, nodding. For a moment, you thought you won, did it. 

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Jungkook said, taking one two three steps in your direction, slowly prying the shopping bags from you. “But I’m still here to pick you up.”

And when he met you with a smile, you knew there wasn’t anything you could do. You let your head hang, as tears shot into your eyes. It had never happened before, you were never one quick to cry, but right now you felt like it. You blinked them away, not allowing Jungkook to know.

He took your silence as a sign of defeat, which it was. Very much so. He had won, and you had to admit that you were actually relieved. That he had proven you wrong, that he hadn’t just left after you had repeatedly insisted he should, or gotten annoyed and sick with you. 

Jungkook shifted all of the shopping bags into one hand, using his free one to grab yours. Like he would, of course he would, he placed a kiss on the back of your hand before putting your hands into his coat pocket to keep warm, together. You could have begun crying again.

“Be a good girlfriend, alright?” he told you, leading you to his car, and you scoffed, hoping your voice didn’t sound as unstable and shaky as you felt.

“Be a good girlfriend?” you repeated, raising a brow. Jungkook was quick to see his mistake and correct himself,

“I mean, let me be a good boyfriend to my girlfriend and pick her up after a—” He hesitated, squinting as if he was searching for the right word. “—fun, right?”

There was something inherently cheeky and smug about Jungkook. But you couldn’t quite take offence to any of it, nodding, even if you knew that today wasn’t the funnest day. (And you were to blame.)

“Fun day at the mall with her friends.”

You pressed your lips together. “But what about your paper?”

He paused and looked at you before shaking his head and laughing. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m almost done. I’ll finish it at your place.”

His hand squeezed yours, and you hated how warm he made you feel. How the warmth spread from your chest to the the tips of your ears and feet. How even if you tried, he remained patient with you. You hated it because it made it so much harder, for you not to fall for him again and again. You hated it because you almost believed him that you could be one of those stupidly in love couples that held hands in their pockets and made each other scarfs.

Jungkook opened the car door for you, and you climbed inside, thankful for the few seconds you had to yourself as he loaded your shopping bag into the trunk. Without a word, he gave you his phone, and by now, you knew the drill. 

You unlocked his phone in second before quickly typing in your current location into Google maps. Your address popped up at the top, bookmarked, when you tapped to enter the destination. Handing him his phone back, you wondered what Jungkook’s password meant, 09052020. It seemed so oddly specific, but you didn’t bother asking.

“You should show me what you got.”

The water remained in your mouth a second longer before you swallowed it, slowly screwing the top back on the bottle, eyes set on Jungkook. You shook your head and leaned against your kitchen counter. He was just a few steps away from you, sitting on your couch, taking up all the space, arms spread left and right. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He gave you a look, as if to say oh please! His head rolled back for a second.

“I think you should.”

You didn’t respond, pulling your phone out of your pocket instead. Deeming your silence as enough of an answer, you scrolled through your phone, opening the group chat between your friends and you, your feet crossing at your ankle. But before you could even read one text-

“But isn’t that why you were in a bad mood?”

It seemed brave of Jungkook to address it so openly. Or maybe just incredibly honest. You couldn’t do it. He didn’t seem afraid at all that you might just dip back into your bad mood at the mention of it and come out bats swinging. It was admirable in some ways. You didn’t rememeber him to be this confrontative a few months ago when you started this, him and you. He seemed to have found a confidence with you now, convinced he knew the ins and outs of you. Maybe he did. He probably did, in some ways. You couldn’t say if you liked it all that much.

You snorted, an attempt to make light of the situation. “Yeah, so why bring it up again?”

Jungkook reached his hands out to you, a gesture for you to come his way. You thought about it for a moment before abandoning both your phone and the water bottle on the kitchen counter and moving over. He scooted to the edge of your couch to allow you to step between his legs. His hands held yours, thumbs brushing the inner part of your wrist, back and forth.

“My parents don’t care,” he told you, staring up at you with his big eyes, squeezing your hands as he spoke, physically stressing his words. “They really don’t care, I promise you. They’re just excited to meet you. And so am I, excited.”

He paused, allowing his words to sink in with you and take effect. 

“But I know you care and you’re stressed about it,” Jungkook mumbled, and you couldn’t look at him, eyes finding the floor instead, right where your carpet curled up because sometimes your couch would dig into it and flip it up. It was so very embarrassing that he knew how much you cared. It felt like you were ripping out your heart and letting him inspect it. You wanted to correct him, set the record straight that really, you didn’t care at all whatsoever! but it felt like a cheap attempt, even more humiliating.

“So why don’t you show me?” he asked, shaking your hands to get you to look at him. You didn’t want to but did anyway. His gaze was soft, just like his smile, and his hair fell into his eyes. You brushed it away. It made his smile widen, so much so he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

It was sealed for you then.

“Alright, fine,” you sighed, defeated, moving away from him to dig through your shopping bags. “Look away.”

“What? Why?”

“What do you mean?” you frowned. “I’m changing.”

Jungkook’s features morphed from a frown to a smile in a second before he ultimately began laughing. “Are you really gonna be too embarrassed to change in front of me?” He gave you a moment to deny it. “I’ve seen and touched-”

“Oh my God, just turn around,” you hissed, and for some reason, your cheeks were as hot as the sun. “Either that, or I won’t try on anything.”

He exhaled the most dramatic sigh he could, making a point to show you that he even pressed his hands to his eyes. Just for that, you wanted to kick him. But you should have known that Jungkook wasn’t quite done, needing to squeeze in one more comment, purely to annoy you and nothing more. There wasn’t anything serious about it at all, no deeper meaning.

“Are you gonna be like this when we’re married with kids?”

You froze, arms up and your face mushed together by your sweater and half of your body exposed to the naked air with only your bra to show for. He wasn’t serious, you knew. There was lightness and an obvious teasing embedded with his words. You doubted Jungkook even expected a response from you, probably just enjoyed knowing he made you flustered even if he couldn’t see it. And yet, your heart began pounding and your hands sweating and your cheeks burning and your mind reeling for any possible retort you could offer. Before you could stutter something, he spoke again,

“Sorry.”

The smile was evident in his voice, and when you finally peeled off your sweater, you turned out to be right. You shook your head, throwing your sweater at him before you could think better of it. It hit him in the face.

“Ow, cabbage! That’s not fair, I have my eyes-” 

“I’m so close to kicking you out, you know?” you mumbled, keeping your voice quiet as if raising it by any means was dangerous. You pulled off your pants and your stockings you had layered underneath for some extra warmth.

“I said I’m sorry, cabbage.” 

But Jungkook sounded far from sincere. You didn’t bother responding, grabbing one of the shopping bags and slipping on the sweater you had thrifted. It was off the shoulders and this warm midnight blue colour, rich and beautiful and cozy. You moved to your old dresser and pulled out the black maxi skirt you had thought to combine it with. The outfit was simple, but with the right accesoires (ones you would still have to buy which the thought of it already gave you a headache), it could work. At least, it could in theory because when you looked at yourself in your full body mirror (which you had thrifted when you had first moved in), you frowned.

“Can I look?”

You gave a grunt in response, still looking at your reflection as if you had put together the most hideous outfit possible. It wasn’t much of a yes or no, so for a few seconds Jungkook hesitated, but he slowly peeled his eyes open.

“Oh, cabbage! You look so amazing-”

“No.”

It was as simple as that for you, shaking your head.

“What? But you look-”

“I don’t like it,” you said, already moving to take off the skirt. “Close your eyes.”

You expected some sort of protest from Jungkook, but he actually did as you said. Just as quick as you had decided that the outfit wouldn’t work, you peeled it off of you. You rummaged through your next shopping bags, looking at the pieces you had gotten—a cream knit sweater and white maxi skirt. But all of a sudden, you hated it. You clearly remembered loving the clothes in the store, giving the outfit a couple spins and scrutiniscing it from head to toe until it was deemed worthy of your money. But right now as you looked at it, you felt quite the opposite.

With a sigh, you pulled the last shopping bag towards you. It had the dress your friends had mentioned you should wear. This time, you didn’t inspect it any further, not having the nerve for it. So you just bunched up the fabric and slipped it on. But you didn’t tell Jungkook you were finished changing. Instead you turned and looked at yourself in the mirror first.

Jisoo had found it for you—a maxi slip dress. It was in a beautiful and rich wine red colour, oozing warmth, and soft to the touch. The satin flowed down your body, hugging your curves, and reflecting your dim living room lights like water. Lace was stitched along the neckline, which otherwise probably would have been a little too low given the occasion. The straps securing the dress were tied up into small ribbons around your shoulders, giving it a more dainty and playful look. The slit on the left side reached up until your knee, allowing the fabric to move along with your body in harmony. It was a beautiful dress, made for any occasion with the correct accessoires and styling. 

You were objectively and undeniably beautiful in it. 

And yet, you stared at yourself as if it wasn’t, brows knitted together and lips pursed in a pout, eyes wandering up and down. It wasn’t insecurity—you felt great and comfortable in the dress. But something about it just wasn’t right. You tried imaging yourself all dolled up in it, hair and makeup done to your liking, but the frown remained. It wasn’t perfect enough.

You shook your head, moving to take it off. When you turned on your heel, you looked straight at Jungkook, and Jungkook looked straight at you. His eyes were big and wide and set on you, his mouth agape and curling up into a smile. You gasped, both in surprise and upset.

“W-why are you looking?” you hissed, feeling the heat crawl up your neck, and you threw your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry. You- you just took so long, cabbage. And so I looked and…” Jungkook finished his sentence with a simple shrug and smile. You frowned at his answer, shaking your head.

“Close your eyes,” you spat through gritted teeth, turning around to change out of the dress. “I’m changing-”

“What? Why?” Jungkook sounded genuinely confused, jumping up from his seat and moving your way, shaking his head. “You look amazing! Please don’t change. I love this dress on you!”

He stopped short in front of you, turning you around and taking your hands into his. 

“This dress suits you so well,” he whispered as if it was some sort of secret. You looked to the mirror behind you, inspected yourself, eyes shooting up and down. Jungkook stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his fingers interlacing in front of the soft of your belly. He pushed you to lean fully against him, his eyes scanning every inch of you.

“You’re so pretty. So very pretty.” 

His words tasted like Christmas chocolate, were thick with honey and sugar, stuck to your teeth. They were bad. Horrible. For you and your heart. Because they sounded so very believable. 

“You look incredible.”

He finished with a kiss to the back of your head, and you didn’t know where to look. You placed your hands on his, tentatively, and he was quick to take them into his, scoop them up and hold them tight. He had to know, you thought to yourself, how hard your heart was beating.

“Don’t you like it?”

You met his gaze in the mirror, mouth settled into a line. 

“I like the dress,” you said, tilting your head. 

“But?”

“I don’t like it for…”

“Meeting my parents?” Jungkook supplied when you wouldn’t finish your sentence, and you didn’t answer, averting your gaze instead. “What do you not like about it?”

You closed your eyes, feeling so very silly. Because you couldn’t say. You didn’t know. There shouldn’t be anything to dislike about the dress, nothing about it was wrong—you loved every little detail, and even more how you felt in it.

“What do you think?” 

“I don’t think my opinion really matters here,” Jungkook laughed, and you peeled your eyes open, a smile tugging on the corners of your lips. He was annoying. Just couldn’t provide you with a simple answer when he even has already voiced his thoughts. “But I think you look really pretty in this dress.”

You scrunched your nose. “How pretty?”

“So pretty I wouldn’t mind going blind now.”

You smiled, no, grinned. He was so stupid.

“So pretty I can’t believe you don’t like it.” 

You tilted your head to the side.

“So pretty I don’t want you to ever take it off again.” 

He pressed kisses to your neck and shoulder, nose burying into your hair, words mumbled into your skin, and hands beginning to wander further south, scrunching the fabric. You let him.

”So pretty I want to take a picture of you and print it out and hang it up above my bed and also keep another one in my wallet and change my background picture to-”

“O-okay, enough!” you said, pushing him away from you because your limbs were beginning to tingle and burn, and his touch was sending shocks through your entire body. Even more so, his hands were beginning to go to places he shouldn’t, not right now at least. You made sure to keep him at an arm’s length, palm pressing into his chest, in fear he’d simply close the distance if you didn’t physically stop him.

“You’re so ridiculous, Jeon,” you said, shaking your head, laughing a little. “You can never be serious, can you?”

“But I am! I’m very serious! Looking at you makes me wanna-”

You were quick to shake your head, hands pressing to your ears because no no no, you didn’t want to know! All while you were smiling, grinning almost. Without realising it, Jungkook had done the impossible—lifted your mood, made you laugh when you felt irritated and annoyed by everything before. 

“Fine, I won’t tell you!” Jungkook sighed, dramatically rolling his eyes. You looked at him, lowering your hands, your smile cemented on your lips.

“You’re so stupid, Jeon,” you mumbled, scrunching your nose, and he gasped in faux upset.

“That’s so mean, cabbage!”

“Oh, just shut up.”

Jungkook slung his arms around your middle, doing so before you could even think to stop him. His chin dropped to your shoulder, hands scopping up yours again and eyes meeting in the mirror.

“So, what do we think?”

You raised a brow. “Now, it’s we? I thought your thoughts didn’t matter-”

He sighed, closing his eyes for a second. “Fine, what do you think?”

And you inspected yourself again, gaze wandering up and down. You didn’t know what it was, but the dress seemed different now. It was still the same fabric, same cut, nothing had changed, but you remembered why you had bought the dress, why you had taken Jisoo up on her offer to try it on when she had shown it to you. Because it was beautiful, even more so with you in it.

“Is this the dress?” Jungkook whispered into your ear, and you knew he was hoping for a yes. 

You tilted your head to the side, heart beating faster when you opened your mouth. Because yes, it was. The dress, choosing it, it was another step closer to meeting Jungkook’s parents, another hurdle out of the way. Your eyes met his in the mirror, his face so close to yours. The two of you standing there together, you almost could convince yourself you were an actual couple.

“Yeah, it is.”

He beamed, tightening his arms around you, letting out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, good, I’m glad.”

You lowered your gaze, and you wondered if he maybe feared you wouldn’t go because you couldn’t find anything to wear. If maybe that was the reason for why he came so quickly because he didn’t want you to use that excuse. Because otherwise he would have to explain to his precious and perfect parents why his girlfriend refused to meet them-

“How does the 22nd sound to you by the way?” Jungkook asked, pulling you out of your trains of thoughts, almost as if he knew. He mumbled the words into your skin, and you felt every move of his lips. “To meet my parents, I mean.”

Just eight days.

“Y-yeah, that… should work,” you returned, breathless and high pitched, eyes finding the floor. He stared at you in the reflection, nudging you to do the same. You hesitated, but did as he said, breath hitching in your throat when you saw the way he was looking at you, oh so sincere and genuine.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

There was something assuring about the way he said it. If anyone elses told you these words, it would do you no good, bring you no relief. But when he did, it did. It was silly really.

“I promise you.”

“Yeah, really, Jeon?” you laughed shallowly, tucking a strand behind your ear and swallowing. “You promise me?”

And as if looking at your mere reflection just wasn’t enough for him, Jungkook turned you around by your hips, forcing your eyes to meet his. 

“I promises you, cabbage. I won’t leave you for one second, alright? Hell, I will drive you there and home again, okay? I’ll be there with you for every second of the day, from the moment you wake up to the moment you go back to bed, glued to your side, so much so you’ll be so annoyed by me that you’ll want me gone. You won’t even go the bathroom on your own, okay?” He paused for a second, scrunching his nose. “I’ll make sure you will have the most non awkward but perfect and fun evening possible.”

His phrasing made you laugh, ebbed the waves of anxiety crashing onto your mind over and over again when you thought a little too much about the next week. His parents, him and you, in one room. 

“It’s gonna be great.”

Jungkook smiled at you, a little too bright and too wide. You returned it to the best of your abilities, letting him pull you back into a hug, eyes falling shut.

“Okay, I believe you,” you told him, hearing his heart beating in his chest. “For once.”

He tightened his arms around you.

(“Do you think it will have snowed by then?” he asked you when the intro to the new episode of Avatar began playing on his laptop. You looked up, eyes catching his, your head rested against his chest and his arms around you.

“What?”

“By the 22nd I mean. Do you think it will have snowed by then?”

You frowned, thinking of the last few winters. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He thought about your answer for a few more seconds, looking off to the side before returning your gaze. “I hope. I’d like to spend a proper white Christmas with you.”

“Pray to the Gods then,” you said. “Chances aren’t so good.”

The past few years it had always only snowed in January.

“Oh, I do, every day,” Jungkook laughed, and you hummed, focusing back on the episode and missing the way his gaze softened at your sight.)

“Okay, so I’ll be back right before New Year,” Chaeyoung said, giving her calendar one last look before snapping it close again. “Who of us is gonna be here?”

Hoseok and you both let out affirmative noises, and Jimin raised his hand in a yes as well, mouth stuffed with his sandwich. You scooted closer to the table to let a guy squeeze through as he made his way to the lunch table with his friends, a tray full of bland and dry cafeteria food.

“I��m not sure yet,” Jisoo said, taking a handful of grapes from her purple grape shaped lunch box and plopping each one into her mouth. “My sister asked if I wanted to celebrate New Year’s with her. But maybe she’ll go over to her girlfriend’s. She isn’t sure yet. I’ll text you guys?”

“I’ll be here the entire holidays,” Namjoon sighed. “I still have finals.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you said, offering him a smile. He waved you off, mumbling something about how at least he was almost finished up with it all. 

“Well, at least we will be spending New Year’s together, right?” Jimin said with a smile.

You took a sip from your green tea, needing warmth because your University never turned on the heaters, preferring their students to freeze. Where did your tuition money go? 

“Okay, but how about Christmas eve for everyone else? When are you guys heading back home again?” Hoseok asked, shovelling his protein oatmeal into his mouth. “You’re going tonight, right, Ji? With Jennie?”

“Yeah, our train’s booked for 8 pm.”

“I’ll go on the 23rd,” Jimin said, and Chaeyoung echoed the same. 

“You’re going tomorrow, right?” she asked Hoseok, and he nodded. “When are you meeting Kook’s parents again, Y/N? The 22nd?”

“Yeah.” You played with the lip of your paper cup, feeling the warmth of your tea. Your heart grew a little heavier, scared one of them would ask when you’d go meet your parents. Because you weren’t, at least not on Christmas eve. Both of them had to work, unable to take a day off. It was an irrational fear, you were aware. Because your friends knew that very well. They’d never ask, but your heart didn’t understand.

“That’s- oh my God, that’s in four days, huh?” Jisoo gasped, and the horror and terror gripping you must have reflected on your face because she was quick to interject. “Oh, sorry. No, it’s gonna be great, Y/N. I don’t know why I said that. That was stupid.”

“You’re still anxious about it, huh?” Hoseok mumbled, and though he worded it like a question, all of you knew the answer.

“Hard not to be,” you said, voice a little short and curt. “It comes in… waves.”

Namjoon patted your shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Chaeyoung reached for your hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I’m sure. We’re all gonna be there for you if it does somehow go wrong—which I highly, highly doubt might I add.”

“Well, not Jisoo. She’s gonna be home, busy showing off her Jennie,” you joked, trying to make light of the situation but it sounded just slightly off.

“What? I can’t be there for you from home?” Jisoo gasped, and before you could question how she’d do that, she continued. “I’m there for you too, telepathically! Jennie too! In your heart! Always! Over the phone! Don’t doubt us!”

You laughed a little, mouthing an apology.

“But you definitely won’t need us,” Jimin said. “Because it’s gonna be fine. Especially because Kook’s gonna make sure of it, okay?”

Before you could return something, your eyes were drawn to the doors.

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

Jungkook had his backpack strapped to his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. It shouldn’t be possible. You were technically too far for you to properly see, but you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the strain in his nape, the deep knit between his brows. He was…. annoyed. It was new to you. For a moment, you almost expected to find Narae walking behind him, bugging him, hot on his trail. It would explain it to you, and you would just simply walk over there and pull him to your table. Just like that, you would ease the knit between your brows, take the tension out of his shoulders and neck-

But it wasn’t Narae. 

It was Taehyung. 

He said something to Jungkook that made him roll his eyes. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to respond, shaking his head and waving his hand around, an attempt to end the conversation. But Taehyung wasn’t so kind, going on, even taking hold of his shoulder.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But they were right. Taehyung and Jungkook were both looking at you, their conversation having come to an end. When you met his gaze, Jungkook’s face contorted into something else, features twitching. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it wasn’t the usual. He didn’t soften in the way you were used to when he would see you. And when you tried a smile, Jungkook struggled to return it. You felt shot, and your smile faltered.

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head. 

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other, exchanging a few words before the latter glanced at his watch and shook his head. He had to go. Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear. You must have imagined it but it looked like he glanced in your direction. But before you could think about it, Taehyung headed in the same direction he had previously come from, and Jungkook slowly made his way over, not meeting your eyes once.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him. 

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong. 

“We weren’t arguing.” 

And as if it wasn’t enough, Jungkook put on his brightest and biggest smile. He showed it to everyone. Like a stone plunged into the deep sea, your heart sank. You had seen it before, that smile. It had decorated his lips during the Halloween party when you first walked in, or when you had first hurt his feelings while you had gone costume shopping. 

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it. 

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

Maybe he could feel your burning gaze on him, but Jungkook finally glanced in your direction. If only for a second, so very brief. But it dug into your heart and split it open, gutted you and left you utterly empty. You had seen him just yesterday, picked out your dress together, parted ways this morning a few hours ago, and now he seemed like another person. He looked so sad, sad in a way you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t think that any emotion close to that had ever crossed his features, not in your presence at least. It was so new and surprising to you—because somehow in your mind, you had forgotten he had the ability to feel… upset—you froze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd. 

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that. 

You knew it was about you. It had to be. Taehyung had glanced at your direction. You hadn’t imagined it, that much you were sure of. And the fact Jungkook hadn’t been able to look at you cemented it for you. Your heart quickened, a certain question coming to the front of your mind.

What if Jungkook didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore?

Maybe it had finally clicked with him—what it meant if you met his parents. How ridiculous it was. Because you weren’t his girlfriend. It was his parents after all. How stupid all of it was actually. Not just you meeting his parents, but the entire contract you had. How far it had gone, too far.

You pressed your lips together, a knot forming in your throat. Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you now. Maybe you should be prepared for the very worst. Maybe this was it. Impact incoming! The fall was nearing its end, your end.

Your hands began shaking, curling around the edge of the table for stability. Panic built up within you, panic that really shouldn’t build up at all, you knew. Your friends blurred into an incohesive mess in front of you.

Oh God.

You didn’t see Jungkook for the rest of the day, or the one after that. In fact, you didn’t hear from him at all, until almost two days later. Maybe you should have reached out first—you did think about it. But you simply couldn’t, your hands shaking whenever you’d open your chat with him, your old messages staring back at you almost mockingly. Because what if he told you he wanted to end it? What if this was how it would end because you couldn’t wait and recklessly send a message?

There was a few seconds of silence, the sound of his breathing coming in through unsteadily. You gripped your phone tighter.

“Hey.”

Jungkook still sounded the same, and for some reason, you were surprised. Why you expected him to sound different, you didn’t know. 

“Hi,” you returned, swallowing because it was your voice, in fact, that sounded odd. At least it did to you. You cleared your throat.

Usually, he’d make some joke, ask you about your day, how you were doing, where you were, if you had watched the videos he’d sent you yet, eaten already. Usually, your conversation would be much lighter, easier. Right now, you felt the air hanging between you, pulling your legs closer to your chest as you waited and waited. He had called you, he would have to speak first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t join you guys for lunch the other day,” Jungkook mumbled, and you closed your eyes.

“It’s alright,” you said, a waver to your voice and you couldn’t decide if it was because you felt cold, even though you were tucked into your bed, or because you felt uncertain of it all, like you were standing at the edge of a cliff, the deep sea awaiting you on the other side, waves crashing up on you. 

Neither of you said anything. 

Your throat grew dry, the questions coming back up again within you. Was he going to tell you over the phone? That he didn’t want you to meet his parents anymore. Maybe even that he wanted to call this entire thing off. That he’d realised this wasn’t worth it anymore, doing all of this to win a stupid bet he’d made with Taehyung months ago. It had gotten too exhausting, you had gotten too exhausting for him. Let’s just end it here, tell everyone you’d just fallen out of love. Hell maybe he’d be even willing to tell everyone the truth, how they’d been fooled. It had all been an act! How fun! How could you all think he was in love with-

“Everything’s alright.”

You paused. “What?”

“I-” Jungkook faltered, letting out a laugh. It came through oh so light and clear. Just not quite genuine. Or maybe you were imagining it, your mind dissecting every of his words. “I’m just trying to say- things are alright. It’s gonna be okay.”

And for some reason, you knew the words weren’t meant to reassure you. But him. He needed it right now, more than you. You blinked, nodded as if he could see.

“Yeah, everything’s alright,” you repeated, quietly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

What exactly he referred to, you weren’t sure. And you weren’t going to ask. He’d tell you when he wanted you to know, when he was ready. Truth be told, you weren’t even entirely sure if you were ready for it, couldn’t say either where your confidence that it’d be alright came from. 

“It will, right?” he laughed again, that same laugh. It came through now, the tinge of uncertainty swinging with his voice. 

You added a small smile, reassurance. “Of course, it will. Always has.”

Jungkook waited a beat, thought about it for a second. “Yeah, no, yeah you’re right.”

And then, you both went back to silence again. You were the one to break it, doing so before you could think better of it and retreat. The question slipped so quickly past your lips, came out of you with the answer to it packaged within already. For once, you dared something, held out your heart.

“Do you want to come over?”

The question seemed alright at first. He’d tell you he was already on his way, in fact. Had you not heard the engine this entire time? Actually, look outside! How silly of you, he had gotten you again. You’d laugh, buzz him up while telling him how annoying he was. He’d fall into your arms, coat and scarf and shoes still on. There’d be no time for you to tell him to at least take off his shoes because he’d knock you over with his entire weight. But you’d hold him up, if not barely and struggling heavily. You’d do it, and you’d do it with a smile. He’d press a kiss to your lips and ask you again if things would just be fine. And you’d do the same as you did on the phone, like a good girlfriend does, you’d reassure him over and over again until you’d be too tired and fall asleep together. Things would truly be alright, you’d meet his parents and maybe resolve it all. Maybe he and you could be something, more. Maybe he meant it, all of it, the gestures and words and kisses. He and you, together, it could be possible-

“I’m sorry—” You wanted him to stop then. He didn’t need to elaborate. It was enough. You bit down on your tongue, hard. “I’m… just really tired today.”

Jungkook hesitated, spoke slowly, and you wanted to laugh it off, tell him it was alright and to go to sleep, but your throat knotted into a terrible mess. 

He didn’t want you to meet his parents.

“Hm.”

It was the only response you could offer. Because if you spoke, he would know, and he couldn’t know—the tears that shot into your eyes.

You pressed your hand to your mouth, and wondered if your reassurance had done anything at all. If not actually you had needed it, even more than he did. 

“I think- classes was exhausting, so yeah. You know, right? So I’m gonna go to bed now,” Jungkook said, and you nodded, as if he could see you, and if you checked, you’d realise it was just eight. You bit your tongue harder.

He never liked you.

“Okay,” you squeaked out, your voice a few pitches too high. He had to know, you were sure of it. Anyone would know, even a drunk Jimin could figure it out. It was blatantly obvious, and you pressed your hand harder against your mouth, scared as you awaited what he’d say. You wouldn’t know how to answer his questions if he asked you why you cried. It would be utterly humiliating to admit why—that you knew you never meant anything to him beyond what you’d agreed upon, but that he did to you. So much, in fact. 

“Goodnight-”

You ended the call, your phone displayed his name for a few more seconds before you tossed it aside, uncaring that it bounced off your bed and you’d have to look for it later on the floor. A part of you wanted to laugh, outright laugh out loud, laugh so loud because maybe it would drown it out. Because were you not just silly? Stupid? Even more so for the tears that rolled down your face and stained your duvet three shades darker. Clear evidence of your silliness, your delusion, your unwavering and foolish hope. 

It embarrassed and humiliated you, how quickly the tears came, how his words had crashed onto you, ship-wrecked you, buried you under. His words hurt, and his dismissal even more. Two words had been enough, had pierced your heart and left you tiptoeing a cliff. Jungkook had more power than you thought he did, power he shouldn’t be holding over your head and heart to begin with. Power he shouldn’t have because you didn’t have it over him.

A text awaited you one morning, just a day before the 22nd.

[Jeon - 07:01 AM] : can i come over later tonight?

And a text was all it took.

Jungkook was not even a second late. Someone was in a hurry to get this over with, it almost made you laugh. Your doorbell rang the moment the clock turned seven. Still, you shrieked, hesitated, stared at your front door like you hadn’t known he’d come, like you hadn’t expected him to come.

You busied yourself with your phone, swiping back and forth, as he climbed up the stairs, your back turned to the door. You just couldn’t watch as he stepped inside. This was it. He’d tell you that he’d realised this had gotten too far, out of hand. You wouldn’t have to meet his parents tomorrow, you had done your part. He’d thank you, assure you he’d break the news to your friends and take the blame. It’d be alright, you wouldn’t have to do anything. And just like before you had ever talked to Jungkook at the vending machine, you’d go your own ways. 

His steps grew louder, echoed less and less until he was inside. A draft pulled through your small flat as he shut the door behind you, quiet but final. You shivered and turned off your phone, heart heavy in your chest as you prepared yourself to turn around and face him. You had thought about it all day, agonised how it’d be like to see him again the past week, how you’d handle this, how you could retain just a bit of your pride at the end of this. The scenario played over and over again in your mind—you’d look at him with a smile, tell him you understood perfectly and he didn’t need to explain. It had been stupid anyway, fun but stupid. Both of you knew this wasn’t anything really, it would come to an end. You didn’t mind it at all. 

“You know, it’s alright, Jeon. I know what you wanna-”

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you with his coat and scarf and shoes on. He pressed you to his chest, held you even tighter when you hesitated to return his hug, as if he needed to physically feel you, be sure you were there.

You hadn’t seen him all week, and all of a sudden, you didn’t know what to do around him anymore.

“Jeon?” 

“Can you hug me?” he asked you, voice barely above a whisper, and though you had been so sure about what would happen just seconds ago, pictured how your conversation would go, you realised you knew nothing at all. You did as he said, putting your arms around his middle and squeezing as tightly as you could, holding your breath even.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, but when you pulled away, Jungkook looked at you in a way you had never seen. He took your hands into his.

“I’m sorry, cabbage,” he began, and in the dim light, you could see his eyes glaze over. “I don’t know what’s been going on with me for the past week.”

He paused, breathed in deeply, looked to the side before returning his gaze to you. 

“I think- there’s just been a lot on my mind, and I had to figure it out first, I think,” he continued. “I-I don’t think I fully have, but I will, soon.”

You looked at him, silent for a few seconds before you nodded, brushing your thumbs over the inside of his wrists.

“That’s okay,” you told him, giving him a smile. “It’s fine. I understand.”

Truth be told, you didn’t know where you took your words from, where you dug up that reassurance again. Because you’d felt the opposite for the past week. It’d been a horrible week for you, sleepless and anxious. 

You’d been tiptoeing a thin line, wondering every second when exactly this would blow over, just how close you were to impact, when your fall would end. Would it be a text? A call? Would he just show up to your doorstep unannounced one evening after you had come back from exhausting classes and do it then? Or would it be Jimin who’d relayed the messages? Would he not tell you at all, deeming not worth the effort even? So, it had been nice to be told the truth—that things had been confusing for Jungkook and he hadn’t figured out how to navigate it all—and yet you weren’t sure if it was enough for you, if it qualmed your worries.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” Jungkook repeated, and you wondered what he was so sorry for that he needed to apologise twice. If maybe you were right. Why else would he feel so apologetic? Was the ending coming and he just needed some more time to figure out the order of his words, unable to bring it over his heart? 

You should ask him if the things plaguing his mind was how to end this. You should, really. Regardless of the answer, it would free you, however painful it might just be. You’d find peace. Maybe you feared the pain too much, the tears that would run down your face, the embarrassment that would rip you into pieces, or maybe you didn’t care enough for yourself to find out the truth, but you didn’t ask. 

Your smile grew bigger, and you didn’t know who you were fooling, him or you. “Don’t be. It’s okay, Jeon.”

Jungkook took your face into his hands, staring into your eyes, looking so intensely at you like he’d never before. He was searching something, and you weren’t sure if he found it, if you held whatever he looked for at all.

“It’ll be fine,” you said, and this was for you, not him. 

“It’ll be fine,” he repeated, nodding, and as he leaned closer to you, you wondered if the same would apply tomorrow. When you’d meet his parents, stand in front of them. When they’d scrutinise every little detail about you and come to their conclusion on who you were before you could even open your mouth and utter your name. 

You let Jungkook pull you into a kiss, returned it with the same intensity. Both of you needed it right now. What exactly you offered each other, you couldn’t pinpoint. But it was enough to silence your mind and his too. 

When his hands wandered, so did yours. He pushed you to your bed, and you let your mattress catch your fall. Your sweater landed on your floor, and soon the rest of your clothes followed. His coat and the scarf you had made him found its place at the foot of your bed. He struggled for a bit to kick off his boots before ultimately stumbling out of them.

Jungkook pressed kisses from your lips to your ear down to your neck and collarbone. Slowly, they wandered further down and down, stopping as he paid extra attention to the places he learned you liked, made your back arch in his favourite way and your breath hitch so beautifully in your throat. Soon, you were pleading with the Gods above, curling your hands around your duvet as Jungkook familiarised himself with you again. His hands pried you open, splitting you into two again and again, bringing you high above. You returned the favour, listened as he found religion through you, drawing out his relief until he needed your lips on his instead. By now, you knew him blindly, your hands finding the sensitive parts of him even as he carved his way back to yours.

“I’ve missed you,” Jungkook mumbled into your ear when he began moving, and you smiled, wrapped your arms around him. So had you. 

“Me too,” you returned, your hips finding a steady rhythm together. He pressed kisses to your skin, hands holding you oh so tightly like he usually would. But he hadn’t said it, hadn’t told you for the entire week, not even now when he would on any other day—that he loved you—and so maybe that was why you fell asleep with an uneasy heart. 

Had he not promised? That he’d be there for every second of the day, from the moment you woke up to the moment you went back to bed, glued to your side until you were sick of him? Was that not what he had said, the words he assured you with? So how was it that you awoke alone, like you had been for the entire past week, without him?

Jungkook wasn’t here, and yet you looked around your home like he could be hidden in some corner. He didn’t like you anymore, you were sure. Why would he? He never did to begin with. Probably regretted this more than anything else, realised just how exhausting it was to be with you. It wouldn’t be worth it. His parents wouldn’t like you, tell him that he could do better. He’d agree- actually he knew that already. Yesterday night had been a mistake, just like all the other times had been. He and you weren’t the same, never could be. Just like two mismatching puzzle pieces, you’d never make a whole picture together. You’d been right, of course. Jungkook could never like you, never saw you as anything more than a paw in this stupid cruel game between Taehyung and you. And you had been played, over and over again. How stupid of you. Foolish! This-

The blaring of your alarm brought you back to reality, the sound filling your ears. You had forgotten to turn it off. You reached for your phone, shutting it off but before you could toss it aside, you saw it. It made you pause, his name atop of your notifications. A voice memo, just over two minutes. Like it had been all you had been looking for, you hurriedly unlocked your phone. You were about to hit start, when you paused, your thumb hovering just above it. Because it could be anything—a simple breakfast run, or a goodbye. A pit grew in your stomach, and you wished he had just left you a clue about what he’d be saying in it. Your chest webbed tightly with anxiety, a rollercoaster in your throat.

You took in a deep breath, bracing yourself, eyes closed as you hit play. Whatever it might be, you’d be fine, somehow, you hoped.

“Hey, I’m so sorry—” Your chest felt so hollow, his voice unsteady. He was running, the wind blowing up the audio. He sounded far away, you had to strain to hear him properly, your phone on maximum volume. “—I know I promised to be there when you’d wake up, but—”

But I just couldn’t do this any longer. I wanted to tell you yesterday, but I just didn’t know how to. I’m sorry.

“—my mom called me. She’s having an emergency with her car, and now she’s stuck in- actually, I don’t know where, but I’m on my way there to jumpstart her car. And I thought about waking you up for it, but that felt mean and you looked so peaceful, I just couldn’t. But- it’s so cold, oh my God. Listen, I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I’m gonna hurry, okay? So just wait for me, alright? I’ll be there, I promise.”

You heard the door of his car open and close. The wind cut out, and all of a sudden it was quiet. There was ruffling, Jungkook took his phone closer to his face. He sighed, and you could see him right in front of your eyes—sitting there in his car, hair a mess on his head, as he closed his eyes to find his words, a knit between his brows.

“I’m really sorry, cabbage,” he began again. “Both for leaving now because I know I had promised I’d be there, and… again for the past week. I know I’ve been shit, and I know you’ve been confused and- I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair at all-”

Neither had you however, you realised as you listened to him talk. Of course, Jungkook had only left because his mother needed his help. How could you assume the worst of him after everything? When he was so good and kind? Had been all this time to you?

“But we will figure this out, okay?”

Jungkook paused again. You pulled your legs to your chest, burying your face into your knees, teeth sinking into your tongue.

“Let’s talk about this after today. But it’s gonna be fine. Like you said it would.”

You had lied.

“What am I talking about?” He let out a small laugh, and you knew he was shaking his head at himself. “It’s already fine.” 

You felt like a traitor. You were terrible.

“I’ll be back to pick you up, okay? So just wait for me. I hope I can get to you by two the latest. I hope it won’t take too long to figure it all out. You know, I actually don’t know how to jumpstart a car, so I really don’t know why my mom called me.”

He laughed again, and you didn’t think you could ever get the sound out of your mind. It was so pretty and melodic, so good and precious. 

“Well, anyway, I gotta get going, but I can’t wait for tonight already. I miss you.”

You missed him too, loved him even. Did he? Could he? Could you?

It was cowardly of you, hypocritical actually. But you couldn’t do it differently, didn’t have the courage to look at Jungkook and say it. The words wouldn’t leave you, you were certain, if you stood in front of him. He deserved more than a text, but more than that he deserved the truth. And the truth was you couldn’t do this, any of it in fact, not anymore. Couldn’t meet his parents, or even pretend to be his girlfriend any longer, not in good conscience. It had to end.

Your thumbs shook as you slowly found the right letters, strung together the words and sentences. You hit delete every other word, barely getting a paragraph together in almost an hour. Because worst of all, even as you tried to offer some honesty, you knew you couldn’t offer it entirely to him, couldn’t let Jungkook know just how exactly you felt, how deeply you had plunged into love with him. 

I’m sorry, Jeon, but I don’t think I can keep this going any longer. I know I said I’d meet your parents, but I think we’re just going a little too far by doing that. I hope you understand. I know I’m not fulfilling our contract and you’ll lose your bet with Taehyung and I’m really sorry, so I’ll just wire back all the money. I never touched it anyway. 

You were about to finish off the paragraph, deciding that any wishes for your future relationship as friends would be too much to ask for, thumb sliding over the glass, when your phone lit up, buzzing and ringing. And right just then, you accepted the call, your heart dropping in your chest. Your stomach twisted terribly because you couldn’t do this. How could you? Hear his voice, talk to him as if you weren’t just about to call this entire thing off over text? How could you pretend it was all fine when you’d felt gutted for the entire week?

“Hey,” Jungkook greeted you, oh so unaware. You could hear the harsh wind coming through the speaker. “I’m sorry—”

You wished he’d stop apologising. If he just knew what you’d been thinking of him for the past few days, all the assumptions you had made about him and his character, his parents too. 

“—but looks like I won’t make it by two.”

There was a sigh, and you let the silence usher Jungkook to keep on speaking, knowing your voice would merely betray you.

“I tried to jumpstart the car, but yeah, it didn’t work out. We called some people now and seems like we’re gonna have to have the car towed and fixed at the shop.”

The frustration bled through in Jungkook’s voice. It was obvious. He had spent all morning trying desperately to fix his mom’s car in the freezing cold, and now it had come to this.

“We called my dad. He’s on his way here because I still need to go back to my parents and take a shower. It’s gonna take some time—the drive to my parents, the shower and then the drive to your place—so I definitely won’t make it by two. But I should be at your place by three the latest though, I hope that’s fine?”

You closed your eyes, wondered just what exactly you were supposed to say. And so, for a while you didn’t as you gathered yourself.

“Cabbage? Are you there? Can you hear-”

“Y-yeah.” You chewed on your lip, took a few more seconds before speaking. “You… don’t have to come-”

“What? No, I promised you I’d drive you. Let me at least do that,” Jungkook insisted, and you hoped he’d just understand. How direct did you have to be? 

“It’s fine, you don’t have to,” you tried, but to no avail.

He snorted. “Cabbage, I’m driving you. No matter what. My dad’s almost here. You won’t have to wait long. I’ll probably be at your place before three actually. I shower quickly!”

You pressed your hands to your eyes until dark spots appeared, shaking your head. Why couldn’t he just understand? 

A lump knotted your throat shut, your voice wavering as you began speaking, “I-I think we should just-”

“Ah, my dad’s here! I gotta go, cabbage. But please just wait, I’ll be there soon, okay? Can’t wait to see you! It’s gonna be great. You’re gonna charm their asses off, okay?”

And before you could even protest, confess to Jungkook that you couldn’t do any of this, he had hung up. You stared as your phone displayed your lockscreen before ultimately turning black, leaving you with your reflection.

You caught yourself in your mirror, realising how puffy your eyes were. It was blatantly obvious you had cried. You were a mess, in no state to meet anyone’s parents, no less Jungkook’s perfect parents. But now you couldn’t even get yourself out of this anymore, not when you had heard his excitement again. How could you disappoint him? 

Just one more day. You’d do it for one more day, him and you. You’d just get today over with, that much you owed him, and then you’d sit him down to break it all off.

The dress was still oh so beautiful on you, harmonised perfectly with the white cropped cardigan you had picked out for today because it was, indeed, cold like Jungkook had said it was, and you really didn’t want to freeze. Your hair remained the same as always. You had thought about changing it, but decided in the end that at least your hair should be the way you were used to. Same with your jewellery, the same few pieces you wore every day adorning you today too. You kept the makeup minimal, and still it took you ages to get it done, hands shaky as you carefully drew on eyeliner and curled your lashes. 

Looking at yourself you wondered if it was enough to fool everyone, yourself possibly even that you were perfectly fine, that you fit to Jungkook, that he and you could be something more, that your background was the same as theirs, that you were just another Narae, well-off and well-travelled.

But your doubts and worries had no time to brew, your doorbell announcing Jungkook. Shrugging on your coat and slipping into the pair of black kitten heels you had borrowed from Chaeyoung, you gave yourself one more look in the mirror. You looked beautiful, you knew that. Everything about you looked so close to perfect, and yet, you felt the opposite. Today was the last time for Jungkook and you, and just the thought made you want to cry.

You shook your head, not wanting to keep Jungkook waiting any longer. It was truly cold, and you regretted your choice of shoes the moment you stepped outside, cursing yourself. The wind snaked up your legs. Maybe if you knew that this wasn’t going to be your last day together as a pretend couple, you would have run up and changed. But more than ever before, you wanted to look your best today. Because at the very least, however today might end (badly), you looked good.

Jungkook agreed, face lighting up the moment he laid his eyes on you. You tried your very best to return your smile. He looked oh so good too, wondering if he matched you on purpose. His sweater was the same deep rich red as yours, a white turtleneck layered underneath. He paired it off with some black slacks and black boots, your scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. You couldn’t look at him too long, vision beginning to swim when you did, so you focused on the ground, one step after the other.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jungkook gasped, clutching his chest and pretending to have a heart attack. 

“Thank you,” you said, speaking quietly, afraid your voice was going to betray you. “You too.”

Your compliment made his smile turn into a grin. “Well, you’re prettier.”

Usually, you’d make some snarky comment, fall into the same old banter you’d established with him long ago. Today, you could barely bring yourself to look at him. 

“Let’s-”

Jungkook cupped your face, lifting your eyes to him, forcing you to face him. His gaze turned your insides soft and puddy, hands beginning to shake by your side.

“I’m so happy, cabbage,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your lips. It almost made you cry. You screwed your eyes shut. Before the kiss could go on longer, devastate you more, crush you further, you pulled away.

“I-I’ve got lipgloss on,” you mumbled, giving Jungkook a short smile before stepping aside to walk to his car. He laughed behind you, telling you how he didn’t mind at all, but still, he followed you.

Just as you were about to reach for the car door, he did it for you. Always the gentleman. You paused for a second, surprised (why were you?), before climbing inside, heart heavy as you waited for him to just close the car door. Jungkook didn’t though, drawing your eyes back to him.

“Are you sure about the shoes?” he asked you, brows furrowed together. “It’s cold. You’re not even wearing stockings.”

You felt even more self-conscious all of a sudden, tucking your feet underneath the seat, cheeks warming and heart thrumming. These shoes were the only ones that fit with your outfit. You didn’t have an extensive shoe collection, anything you could change into now wouldn’t match. It’d be a waste not to wear them, especially after you had asked Chaeyoung to borrow them.

“Y-yeah, it’s fine.”

Jungkook seemed to disagree, still standing there with the car door in his hand, and when he opened his mouth, you knew he was going to argue with you.

“I really-”

“It’s fine,” you repeated, reaching for the door handle. “Let’s just go. We’re gonna be late.”

The frown didn’t disappear from his face, but he conceded, albeit with a sigh. His hand squeezed yours, and you flinched, pulling it away as if he burned you. Jungkook stopped, eyes shooting to yours.

Your heart dropped in your chest. Oh no. 

You put on your brightest and biggest smile. “Sorry, your hand’s just super cold,” you laughed. 

Jungkook blinked before smiling, “Ah, sorry.”

With that he shut the car door, and you pulled the seat belt across your body, readying your words on your tongue that you had thought of this entire time.

I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?

It was a blatant lie. Every nerve and fibre of your body was lit up, wired tightly. You couldn’t find sleep even if you laid in your bed now. The thought of having to talk to Jungkook for the entirety of the car ride, however, turned your stomach upside down. 

You decided to wait for him to put on the seat belt first before saying it, needing a few more seconds to rid the knot from your throat. From the corner of your eye, you watched as he climbed inside, putting his key into the ignition, rubbing his hands together. But rather than reach for the seat belt, Jungkook fumbled with the console, turning on the heat, carefully turning the knob back and forth. Warm air started blasting from the heaters immediately, wrapping you up from every direction.

“Do you want the seat warmer too?”

He looked at you so sincerely. You crumbled almost.

“I-It’s okay.”

“Just say a word and I’ll change it, okay? Don’t want you freezing,” he said before strapping the seat belt across his chest. You turned to the window. 

Your voice wavered slightly. “Uh, I’m super tired. Do you mind if I sleep during the ride?”

“Oh, yeah, no, totally. Get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when we’re there. Gonna take a while anyway.”

You hummed in response, frowning when you saw Jungkook rub his hands together, blowing into them, even holding them up to the heaters for a few seconds. Before you could wonder for too long, he took your hand into his, thumb brushing back and forth.

“Warm enough?”

He said it with such a beautiful smile. It shattered you. You merely nodded before turning away, eyes closing shut, a lump stuck in your throat. The gesture, however small, dug into your heart like a knife. He was so nice, so kind, so good. And for the past week, you had thought the worst of him. 

You knew you had arrived even before Jungkook parked the car. The engine slowly shut off, keys jangling when he pulled them out. You heard the click of his seat belt, some shuffling, and your heart beat faster as you waited for him to wake you up. Truth be told, you hadn’t thought this through. How were you going to convince him that you had slept this entire time when you hadn’t even for a single second? The last time you had pretended to sleep in the car was when you were seven and didn’t want to go to school. And even then, it hadn’t worked, your mother seeing right through you.

Jungkook had held your hand the entire ride. You had so gotten used to the feeling of his warmth that when he slowly pried his hand out of yours, you felt oddly cold. For a second, you thought you had to have imagined it when you heard the car door open. But when the sound of it softly closing followed, you knew you hadn’t. Maybe he wanted to come around and then wake you up?

You waited a few more seconds but when your car door remained shut, you slowly peeled your eyes open. Once again, Jungkook wasn’t there. But your attention turned to the house across the street instead. Jisoo and Chaeyoung had, of course, asked for Jungkook’s address—Just in case. He had happily sent it to them, and you too if you wanted to forward it to anyone else too. (The fact that Jisoo was over an hour's train ride away didn’t matter by the way.) You couldn’t recall the address, but you did remember the house number, and you were definitely staring at the right house right now.

It was bigger than you could have imagined it to be. It was so absurdly big, almost cartoonishly so. Even more so because it was decked out with all kinds of Christmas lights and stockings. You doubted no second the inside rivalled Chaeyoung’s and Jisoo’s home. But however ridiculous it was to you, this was Jungkook’s childhood home, the house where he grew up in. Where he spent his childhood and teenage years. This particular house. A house. Whilst you grew up in a flat, just with enough space to cram in your little family.

You saw him then, standing next to the expensive car parked in the driveway. Jungkook opened the car door to the passenger seat, and a second later, his mother stepped out. He offered her his hand, earning himself a big smile from her. From inside the car, you couldn’t hear what she said, but you could imagine it. She was right, he was a great son. 

Jungkook looked a lot like his mother, you realised. She had gifted him with her kind eyes and soft big smile. No wonder, her son was so beautiful. She was an elegant woman. It was obvious. The kind of woman that wore cashmere sweaters, baked fresh bread every Sunday, made sure to do her skincare routine every morning and night, expensive creams and serums lining her bathroom cupboard. Not a single hair on her head was grey. She was the perfect wife and mother.

From the driver's seat, a man emerged, Jungkook’s dad. There was a hint of grey colouring his hair, but he pulled it off well. He was shorter than Jungkook by a bit, but you could see right away where Jungkook got his confidence from. For a moment, you wondered if that was how Jungkook would look like when he was older. Would he resemble his father? His dad quickly rounded the car, greeting his son with a hug before taking his wife’s hand into his. He had a kind smile too, you noticed. Of course, he did.

Jungkook had to have said something particularly funny because both his parents erupted into laughter. You looked away, closing your eyes. 

What were you doing here?

The question blared louder than ever before. Could you really do this? Fool everyone? Yourself too? The answer was obvious to you as you looked ahead. A part of you wished you had come to that conclusion before you had gotten into the car. You didn’t know your way around this neighbourhood (of course, not), but you knew you had to get away from here either way.

You stepped out of the car, quietly shutting the door. He couldn’t see, couldn’t know. You had to get away, now.

“Where’s your girlfriend, Kook?” 

His father’s voice made you pause. Jungkook sounded so much like him.

“In the car. She’s sleeping.”

“Are you not gonna wake her up? At least, let her come inside and sleep inside. It’s so cold.”

“No, I was gonna, but then I saw you and dad pull up,” Jungkook explained, his voice carried to you through the wind. His car offered you enough coverage to hide and at the same time allowed a clear view of Jungkook and his parents. “Also, I was gonna get her another pair of shoes. She’s wearing heels.”

His mother gasped. “In this weather? Does she at least have stockings on?” When he shook his head, she gasped again. “No, that’s not good. You better get her another pair of shoes. She’s gonna freeze!”

“I know- ah, I turned off the heat!” Jungkook touched his forehead as if to say how stupid of him. 

You pressed your lips together, teeth sinking into your tongue. The guilt clawed up your throat, raw and red. It hurt, so much so that you didn’t even feel the cold wind on your feet and up your legs, or the way they ached from the unnatural arch the heels forced them into. 

“Go get your girlfriend some shoes,” Jungkook’s father told him. “I’ll get the groceries-”

“What? No, let me, dad. I can do both. I’ll be quick.”

“It’s fine, Kook. We don’t want your girlfriend freezing.” His mother placed her hand on his shoulder. But like the good son he was, he wasn’t having it, already moving to open the trunk.

“It’s okay. I turned off the car just now, and she’s been sleeping peacefully this entire time. I’ll be quick,” Jungkook insisted. “You guys get inside.”

His parents looked at him with a sigh, realising defeat. Jungkook’s father handed him the car keys.

“Well, you better be quick. You know we can’t wait to meet Y/N.”

And with that, they walked inside, hand in hand. Your heart shattered, your name rolling so easily off their lips. It was so odd to hear them say it, hear with how much kindness they did. 

You should just go now, take this opportunity to run, but your feet remained cemented, your eyes following Jungkook as he brought the first two bags up to the front door before grabbing the last two out of the car. Moving his foot underneath the sensor, the trunk closed automatically. You knew nothing about cars but you knew that such a feature didn’t come with most, and was definitely not cheap either.

Right now, looking ahead of you, you could see for the first time clearly just how different Jungkook and you were. There were two different worlds between you, a distance that no one could cross, no less a relationship that wasn’t genuine to begin with. It had been nice and fun, foolishly nice and fun, to pretend all this time, but in the end it had been foolish more than anything. 

Why you didn’t move still remained a mystery to you. Maybe your feet had really frozen to the sidewalk, the heels one of your worst ideas yet, or maybe you simply couldn’t do it, bring it over your heart to just walk away. Maybe you just needed a little more, of him and you. You knew these few seconds would be the last ones of peace before it would all crumble. The illusion would shatter. He and you would be done, forever. There would be no more hangouts together with all your friends, no more cookies and Avatar marathons, no more kisses and hugs. 

Jungkook and you would dissolve, just as quickly as it had all begun in that library with a notebook and pen. 

Jungkook was about to turn around and close the door and he’d see you, standing there on the sidewalk with your eyes set straight on him. He’d see you and he’d smile and put down the bags and walk over to you and ask you why you were standing there and why did you get out of the car and how cold it was. How stupid and silly of you! 

He’d come over and bring you into a hug and his lips would ghost over the crown of your head and you’d cave and melt and you’d go in and meet his family and it’d hurt so much to tell Jungkook’s parents what your parents did when they’d inevitably ask you because of course they would and you’d have to see as they realised that your parents didn’t get to enjoy higher education. They’d be silent for a few seconds before nodding and smiling. They’d quickly change the topic because it was better to talk about something else and oh I heard something so interesting on the news recently, did you hear?

But you didn’t move, even as Jungkook turned, arms heavy with grocery bags, and lifted his head, eyes meeting yours as you predicted he would. His lips lifted up into a smile, a smile bigger than you’d expected. He didn’t move though. Instead he blurred into a heap of colours.

You could no longer do this.

The image of him cleared as the first tears fell, and you watched as his face crumbled while he watched your chest heave up and down, sobs pushing out from your throat. 

Jungkook let go of the grocery bags, the contents spilling out. When he took his step towards you, you did too, away from him. He stilled, frozen. Why, you could see it on his face. Why were you crying? Why were you moving away from him? He deserved answers, an explanation, but the most you could muster up right now was the shake of your head.

No.

And then you took off. 

“Y/N!” 

You pressed your hand to your lips, scared of filling the street with your gut wrenching sobs. Tears kept streaming down your face, hot and heavy. 

You did feel sorry for doing this to Jungkook. But you had to. Because he wasn’t going to. It had to be you. You who finally saw the truth in the eye that this was ridiculous, that this had gone off the rails, that Jungkook and you should have never gotten to this point, to where you found comfort in his arms and he knew your favourite cookies and you showed him your home and he knew more than he should about you. To the point where you had shared the bed together and knew the softness of the other’s lips. To the point where you had irrevocably and undeniably and unfortunately fallen for Jungkook.

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook, and it was the worst thing you could have done to yourself-

“Y/N!”

And it was affirmed when he seized your elbow and turned you around. You didn’t make it very far. Your eyes locked with his, and you could see it in them. How this was going to end. How this had to end, now. 

You were reminded of when you ran out on Jaehwa after seeing him for the first time again. It was what you always did, you realised. Run. 

You just never expected you’d have to run out on Jungkook too.

His eyes, wide and big, searched your face, for something to give him a clue as to what was going on in the head of yours, anything. He didn’t understand. 

You pulled away from him as if his touch burned you, pushed him away.

“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked, frantic, reaching out for you again, but you couldn’t let him touch you, tumbling backwards. Hurt flashed across his features, but this was for the best. Why did you have to be this dramatic? How stupid of you!

“I-I can’t,” you stuttered, shaking your head, dragging your coat sleeve frantically on your cheeks. “I-I just can’t.”

Jungkook stared at you, face twisting and morphing into emotions you couldn’t decipher. You had never really understood him anyway.

“O-okay, hey, that’s fine.”

Who would have thought this would hurt so much to hear?

“That’s alright.”

He should be furious, absolutely and utterly mad with you. You had just run away. If he hadn’t caught you, he would have had to somehow explain to his parents why his so-called perfect girlfriend was suddenly gone. And yet, he met you with empathy and kindness. Jungkook was so good, so precious. He was so much better than you, deserved more. 

“I’ll give you a ride home-”

“No!” you screamed, lungs heaving for air, chest rising and falling dramatically. You shook your head, repeated it again, quieter this time. “No, you don’t understand.”

Jungkook stared at you, mouth opening and closing. “Okay, then explain. But let’s do this in the car-”

“Why are you like this?” You threw the question at his head, venomous and bitter. The anger wasn’t fair, shouldn’t be aimed at him at all. What had he done to deserve it? And yet, you couldn’t find it in you to shift the target. “What are we doing?”

His brows knitted together, the knit deepening. “I-I don’t know what you mean.” You looked at him as if he should. “Can we get to the car first, cabbage-”

You flinched. How could he still call you that? 

“This is so stupid,” you scoffed, shaking your head, eyes looking at everything but him. The cold wind blew your tears away, and your cheeks felt raw from all of the rubbing and dragging. “I- this is so wrong on so many levels. Why am I even here? What are we even doing? Why are you like this?”

“You don’t want to meet my parents, that’s fine. I really think we should get to the car-”

“Why? Because you don’t want your neighbours and parents to see what crazy person you’ve brought home?”

“What? No! Who said that? I wanna get to the car because it’s freezing cold and you only have a coat and heels on-”

“Oh, please, Jeon!” The laugh slipping from your lips made Jungkook flinch. It was so mean, filled with so much spite. “Don’t pretend to be good. What a cheap and pathetic act!”

None of the words you spoke were truthful. You didn’t know where you pulled them from, you didn’t believe any of them. All of them were hollow and mean. But maybe they’d be enough though to bring out anger within Jungkook, make him come to the same realisation as you had—that he and you had to end. But knowing him, he’d meet you with empathy and kindness over and over again. 

He had to hate you. 

You had to make him hate you. Otherwise, this would never find an end. Otherwise, he’d convince you of the opposite, and you’d never be able to let go of him. Otherwise, you’d lose yourself completely to him.

And when you looked at Jungkook, you knew you were right. Because there was no no fire in his eyes, nothing. He still stared at you the same way he used to. Even after you had called him names. Hating you was the only option.

“I really think we should just talk this out another time.”

Defeat, you realised, contorted his features. Not anger. Not spite. None of it. Just defeat. You closed your eyes, shaking your head.

“You’re clearly not in the best of moods and saying stuff that you don’t mean. I don't know what’s going on, but let me just give you a ride home and we’ll figure this out another-”

“Figure out what?” You leaned forward, gestured wildly around yourself. “We? Oh, please, Jeon, there’s no fucking ‘we’. Don’t make me laugh!”

He shook his head, hands running through his hair. 

“I really don’t think you mean any of this, Y/N. I know this entire situation must be bringing up bad memories for you- I know Jaehwa hurt you-”

“What? This has nothing to do with him,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes, the words pushing through your clenched teeth like a bullet out of a gun. “What do you know, Jeon? What do you really know, huh? Actually, how can you know anything? You with your perfect stupid fucking family with a house oh so big because you just had to show everybody how you were better and richer and greater. What do you know about anything, really?”

You weren’t making sense, but you could see a change in Jungkook’s face, the flicker in his eyes as you mentioned his family. Bullseye.

“Miss me with that bullshit. You’re the kind of people I hate. It’s all so fake and condescending- fuck, you’re so stupidly loaded you’re paying me to pretend to date you so you can win a stupid shitty bet with Taehyung. Your parents must be so proud of their great great son.”

He closed his eyes, screwed them so tightly shut in hopes that maybe if he did so long enough, this would turn out to be a bad dream. This wasn’t happening. Things weren’t falling apart like that. They couldn’t. His hands curled into fists.

“Now you can’t even look at me, Jeon?” you sneered, voice and words growing more and more vicious. “Can’t face the truth, right? You pretend to be so good, so kind. But for fuck’s sake, look at the house you grew up in! Look at where I live! You’re the same as Jaehwa- actually, no because at the very least, he didn’t pretend like he and I weren’t different. You should have some shame, but I guess with parents-”

“Y/N!”

Your name cut through the air, and for once, you stopped and breathed. Jungkook had peeled his eyes open again, teeth gritted, jaw pulled taunt, hands curled into tight fists. 

“I really think it’d be better if you stopped talking now.”

And yet, it wasn’t the response you wanted.

You could have cried then, bawled, fallen to your knees and just admitted to it all. How much you did love him and how much you wanted him, but couldn’t have him because this just wasn’t going to work because he never really did love you and neither would his parents. He and you were doomed, like the moon and the sun. He just would never see it, too idealistic for his own good. Your blatant and devastating flaws. You weren’t good or kind. You had to be the one to pull the plug, to call this what it was—wrong.

“Yeah, of course, you’d say that,” you mumbled, the tip of your shoes digging into the concrete, rolling back and forth. The scratching sound it produced soothed you oddly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know what I mean. You rich people just can’t ever face the truth-”

“No, you idiot!” 

His voice echoed through the empty street, loud and clear. Anger and disdain coloured his words, features twisting and knits deepening. There it was, finally. The anger and upset you had waited and waited for, the blow of the bomb, the finale. 

“I think you should stop talking because I love you and I don’t want my heart broken any further!”

Jungkook was so loud. You had never heard him so loud before, yell like that, tell you so abundantly clear that he loved you. It was the declaration of declarations, blaring and grand. You had wanted to hear it, needed to hear it all this time, all this week—that he loved you—and now when you finally did, it was truly the worst thing anyone had ever told you ever. Because it was everything you wished for, but you couldn’t have it, none of it. It wasn’t real, and even if it was, even if he meant it and he loved you, you couldn’t be with him. The truth didn’t matter. You were too damaged, too broken, too fucked up to never not doubt Jungkook, not to fear that he’d leave at any point. 

You’d never trust him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you!” He pointed at you, face scrunched and eyes red, tears welling. “I thought we had gotten past this- isn’t it obvious that I do really love-”

“Oh, please. You goddamn liar!” Your voice shook, broke in your throat and mouth, head spinning. You were losing Jungkook, spectacularly so. “What do you know about love? This is an act, Jeon! You’re not in love with me! You’re in love with an act! You’re in love with the idea of winning your stupid bet with-”

“No, no-”

“Yes, Jeon, you don’t know shit. You pretend like you do- think you do when in reality, you don’t know anything about me. Who am I if not just a pawn in your game? Someone you paid, so you could boast and brag that you didn’t get rejected, huh?”

Jungkook licked his lips, veins bulging in his neck as he tried his very best to not go too far, implode on you, hands digging into the roots of his hair. “No, that’s not true. The bet between Tae and me—”

“Actually, you know what? I don’t even care. Because all of it is wrong. It’s not what we agreed upon-”

“Okay, yeah, so we weren’t supposed to kiss and spend time together privately, or sleep with each other and talk on the phone for hours. But look at us now!” He pointed between him and you, as if there was something between you. “We did it all, okay? And? Was it so bad?”

His eyes fixed yours, so deeply. He took a step towards you, and you didn’t back away, couldn’t.

“You call me a liar when I tell you I love you—” His voice shook, trembled terribly, and you could see Jungkook fight to find the right words, struggle to speak. It pained you to know it was all because of you. How easy would it be to take it all back? Admit fault and go back? But would it be right? “—but tell me then, why are you looking at me like that?”

You tried a laugh. A laugh that was meant to dismiss it all, deny the truth, but it sounded hollow and wrong. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, beginning to crumble. And Jungkook saw right through you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something!” 

You closed your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your stomach. The world began to spin faster and faster, and you felt like you were losing the ground underneath yourself.

“You’re not being fair,” you whispered, shaking your head. You were speaking much quieter now, your voice having lost all of its bite and edge. This had been harder than you expected. “You’re breaking the contract-”

“Oh my God, will you forget about that? Both of us broke it a long time ago, willingly! Can you please just forget about all of it—the contract, the bet—and look at the facts?”

Jungkook was begging at this point. Would you come to your senses?

“Do you really genuinely think that the past weeks- months didn’t mean anything to me? That it was really all just pretend? That I lied about all of it? That I’m really such a big asshole that I’d pretend to be in love with you this entire time, call you daily, buy you your favourite cookies, hold your hand and kiss you and tell you—” This seemed to drain Jungkook of everything, voice trembling as he presented the worst version of himself to you. “—over and over again that I love you?”

He leaned forward, searched for your eyes. 

It was right in front of you—a white flag up in the air, for you to grab and hiss. You could do it now, he’d forgive you, you were certain of that. Jungkook was still kind enough to do so, his heart ready to let you back in. You wouldn’t even need to say anything, just falling into his arms would suffice. It’d be so easy. Simple, in fact. He’d let you do it, take your silent defeat as an apology. You’d never have to talk about it ever again. It was tempting, slip back into what you were before as if you weren’t aware that he and you were two parallel lines never meant to cross. Jungkook would never be tempted to take this way out, he’d stand straight for what he’d said, repent. The thought to take the easy way out would never cross his mind. It did yours.

“Y-yeah, I do.”

Jungkook shook his head, mouth set in a line.

“You don’t mean that-”

“Yes, I do-”

“Y/N, no, no, you-”

“Stop,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Stop insisting that I don’t mean it. I do. I-”

It was so ironic. It felt like the entire universe was mocking you, laughing at the two of you. This was what  Jungkook had wished for him and you, imagined how beautiful it would be, how you’d sit together in front of the window and watch before he’d suggest to go outside and you’d follow happily. You’d dance and play until neither of you could feel your hands and your cheeks were rough and raw from the cold wind. You’d yearn for the warm, shiver as you stepped inside, but you’d be happy. So very happy. But now it felt like a stab to your hearts instead. 

The first few snowflakes softly landed on your sleeve. It was so beautiful. The entire street would be white in a few hours, kids would come out to play soon.

“I’ll pay you back.” You took a step back, rubbed away the tears that wanted to spill. “See it as compensation for… not meeting your parents.”

Jungkook couldn’t respond, teeth sinking into his tongue, biting on the muscle until it hurt too much. 

“That’s not- that’s not the point. I don’t care for the money, I just-” He deflated. “Just-just meet them, Y/N. Give them a chance, please. You’ll realise- they’re gonna love-”

He stopped when you shrunk in on yourself, vehemently shaking your head. Neither of you said anything, just allowing the snow to fall around you and cover you in white. You’d be shivering in just a few minutes, hair and skin wet, feet shaky on the cold ground. 

Jungkook looked down, hands in his pockets, shoulders slumped. 

“Okay.”

You stood there as you waited for him to turn his back to you and walk away, waited and waited to be finally alone. He’d do it and you’d be alone and you’d be proven right, vindicated. Relief would flood you, knowing you had seen it coming, had always known correctly, protected you, at least, this time of hurt and-

The keys looked cold to the touch.

“Take them. Wait in the car. Call Chae or whoever to come pick you up. You can leave the keys in the car. I’ll get them later.”

Jungkook was ordering you, telling you what to do. And though he spoke with finality, allowing no room for you to disagree, his voice trembled and shook. You didn’t have to look to know the tears staining his cheeks, to know how much you had hurt him, realise that in your quest to do the best for both him and you because he deserved better and not be hurt and left in the end, you had done just that to Jungkook, plunged the knife into his heart and pushed it further even as he spat out blood. 

“It’s fine, I can-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before Jungkook grabbed your hand and placed the keys into your palm, forcing your fingers shut around them with his own. His touch sent sparks through your body. It’d be the last time he’d ever touch you, you realised, and before you could stop it, the tears spilt. But you didn’t let out a noise, kept your head low and eyes even lower. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

Jungkook hesitated before letting go, his feet dragging as he walked away.

Maybe it was you holding the gun, not Jungkook.

→ thanks for reading !! if you have any thoughts, id love to hear it!

[literaila]

Make a list of every single shenanigan teenage reader and Gojo have done

Doesn't have to be detailed I just want to know what these losers did to make Yaga so mad

• broke a vending machine because gojo kept trying to pull the drink reader wanted out of the machine with cursed energy instead of letting her pay for it

• accidentally bleached everyone’s clothes when it was readers turn to do laundry because gojo swore he “knew a secret”

• broke a tv remote when wrestling over it because gojo kept turning the volume up to 1000% when reader was trying to sleep

• set the oven on fire when trying to bake a cake for suguru’s birthday and then gojo “accidentally” pointed the fire extinguisher at reader instead of the oven and ruined her clothes

• picked the locks to the gym so reader could show gojo how to take the basketball hoops off of the wall

• spent a whole day scaring people by gojo teleporting them both around into peoples rooms for “practice”

• stole a car in the middle of the night just for fun

• when everyone was gone one weekend the two of them just went around everyone’s dorms and replaced the framed photos of their families with pictures of gojo

• developed a dance routine except the “dance routine” involved them tackling each other in the classroom and getting suspended from class for three days

• when reader found out that gojo was using his six eyes to cheat a look at his christmas presents and pulled his hair until he was crying from his pretty blue eyes

• sneaking away from group outings at popular districts to go and get dessert approximately 17 times

• sneaking out in the middle of night to get gas station food and inevitably getting caught each time because of the barriers around jujutsu high approximately 26 times (yaga but a deadbolt on the outside of gojo’s room to lock him in but then he learned how to teleport)

• “forgetting” to complete their chores and spend their time beating each other at video games instead

• hiding all of the food in the kitchen in suguru’s dorm and replacing it with empty bottles of suguru’s fancy hair conditioner that they’d both been collecting for up to six months

• pretending that the other died for multiple hours at least once each (everyone believed it)

• throwing everyone a surprise birthday party (so it wasn’t a surprise after the 3rd time) but timing it so that yaga would only show up after everyone was gone and the classroom was a mess

• changing the newspaper out with fake versions to mess with yaga (this is readers personal favorite. also includes more pictures of gojo)

• endless prank phone calls

• literally endless (suguru eventually stole satoru’s phone but they would just use readers instead and shoko threatened to stab them both where “no one would realize it wasn’t an accident”)

• kept messing with nanami’s coffee in the mornings until eventually he got a thermos with a lid instead of a mug

• reader picked haibaras lock and they drew on his face (he thought it was funny though ((includes chibi gojo))

• reader got geto to start collecting fly heads and he assisted the two of them in letting them go in the common room right before yaga came back from lunch

• stealing the files yaga had on the gojo clan

• using shokos medical books that she “studies” to make paper airplanes to see whose would fly the furthest

• gojo replacing readers sheets with digimon ones (she kept them)

• making six voo doo dolls of yaga and leaving them around campus (you know how he feels about stuffed animals)

• reader hiding all of gojo’s candy in the library where he would never find it (yaga sat him down the next day and accused him of using school space as his own personal pantry and got banished to the library for several sparring lessons)

• sparring so late at night that suguru would inevitably send a curse to bite satoru

[lnfours]

tis the damn season | l.n

summary: happy december! you know what that means, time for holiday parties with rich families and a run in with a certain someone.

warnings: ex bf!lando, rich kid!female!reader, a bit of second chance romance, light drinking, language, a little bit of awkwardness but mostly not so secret pining after not seeing each other for so long, fluff (this is kinda bad and not proofread so enter at ur own risk)

masterlist | ask box | listen

⋆꙳•❅*• •*❆ ₊⋆

it was finally time for the annual holiday party your family threw every year, or the ‘event of the year’ as everyone else called it. the christmas tree was up in the foyer, the smell of gingerbread and snickerdoodles lingering around from the cookies your mom had picked up from the bakery down town.

plenty of people had already arrived when you descended down the stairs, smiling as you passed by familiar faces, unsure on names to say hello to them. you locked eyes with your mother, who smiled and waved you over.

“y/n! there you are! come say hi!”

you said polite ‘excuse me’s to the people blocking your path before you joined your mother at her side. your heart slightly dropped at the familiar faces of who your mother was talking to, but you put on your best fake smile.

“y/n, love! how’re you?!” cisca smiled, pulling you into a short hug. you hugged her back and nodded.

“i’m good,” you gave the man next to her, her husband adam, a quick hug as he pulled you in also, “how’re you guys?”

“we’re good, flo and lando are around here somewhere,” she smiled, “unfortunately oliver and savannah couldn’t make it.”

you nodded, “well, i’ll be sure to find them and say hi. say hi to oliver and savannah for me.”

“we will!”

you bid a ‘see you soon’ to the three, making your way back to the party, making sure to grab a glass of champagne from one of the waiters walking around the house. it didn’t take long for a squeal to catch your attention, the girl walking quickly towards you. you laughed as she pulled you into a hug.

“y/n! it’s been so long!” flo squealed happily, smile still bright as she pulled away from you, “how’re you?! how’s university? any cute boys?”

you smiled, eyes traveling to the brunette who was approaching flo, a smile on his face as he politely pushed through the crowd. your brain didn’t even fully register what she had asked you, your eyes meeting his.

he had gotten prettier since the last time you saw him, his hair curlier and fluffier and he had started growing his facial hair. he was dressed in a suit, one that made him look way too good for your liking.

you raised your eyebrows, attention fixing back to the girl in front of you who wore a smile, a knowing one at that, “good! how’re things with you?”

“flo, i thought we were sticking together-“

his sentence was cut off as he finally approached the two of you. his eyes on you, the way your hair was falling and the dress you wore and how the straps hung loosely off your shoulders, the way it was designed to do.

“sorry,” his sister mumbled back to him, “look who i found!”

lando didn’t tear his eyes from yours, “yeah, uhm, hi..?”

his greeting hung in the air like a question and you smiled softly, sending him a tight lipped smile, “hey,”

the younger girl looked back and forth between her brother and the girl she knew he had been in love with since you were kids. of course, she knew about the breakup that had occurred a few months back, but she was determined that the two of you were soulmates.

and it was time for her to work her magic, turning to her older brother, “i’ll leave you two to catch up, gonna go find mum.”

lando opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he watched her quickly split from the pair. you chuckled softly, taking a sip from your glass, watching him nervously scratch the back of his neck.

“so, um-“

“how’re you?”

the two of you had started at the same time, stopping when you realized you were talking over each other. you both let out a soft laugh.

“you first,” he said.

you breathed in, “so, how’re you?”

he nodded, “good, good. how’re you? your mum said you should be done with university soon?”

you nodded, “yeah, hopefully this is my last semester. uhm, how’s racing? saw you got a couple podiums recently.”

“yeah, no, it’s been good,” he said, “obviously, we’re on holiday right now so just trying to figure out what to do with my free time.”

you nodded, “i’m sure you’ll figure something out, or max will,”

he chuckled, “yeah, i suppose you’re right,” his eyes looked over you again, “you look good. gorgeous, actually.”

you could tell he was nervous and you felt your stomach turn into knots as you looked down to the floor to hide the way your cheeks were reddening.

“thanks,” you said, “you do too. see you can finally grow facial hair.”

you both let out giggles as he rolled his eyes playfully, “alright,”

“well done, truly,” you teased again as the two of you continued laughing. he shook his head, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

you had forgotten how it felt to have him around. how giddy he made you and how he made you feel, and now it was coming back in waves. you weren’t sure if it was because it was the first time seeing him since the breakup or if it was because it was him.

the night progressed and he told you stories about how it had been for him traveling the world and you told him stories about your professors at university.

“wanna get some air?” you asked, thumb pointing to the door to the balcony outside. he nodded, following your lead as you led the two of you through the crowd. once out on the balcony, you leaned against the cement wall as he closed the door.

you looked out to the darkness contrasted against the bright christmas lights lighting up the neighborhood. he joined you, resting his arms against the cement, subtly looking over at you through his peripheral vision.

he didn’t miss the way you shivered, the cold air making your skin cold. he looked over at you now, “‘re you cold?”

you shook your head, “nah, i’m okay-“

“no, i know you hate the cold,” he said, shrugging off the jacket to his suit, you standing up straight now as he motioned for you to step closer. he wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, engulfing you with his cologne and the warmth from his body. your eyes met his again and you looked up at him with a soft smile, “warm?”

you nodded, “thank you,”

“‘course.” he said.

the silence fell between the two of you again before he broke it, “do you, uhm, ever think about… us?”

you looked back over at the boy next to you, “‘us’?”

he nodded, “yeah, like why we ended? y’know, things like that,”

you let out a breath, “i do, yeah,” you said, “do you?”

he licked his lips nervously, looking back at the lights, “all the time.”

you gave him a soft expression as he turned back to you, “lando,”

“no, i know,” he said, leaning back up as he huffed softly, “i just, i don’t know. i don’t know why we ended things, why i let you get away, y’know? i mean, you were it for me for my whole life, and i fucked it up.”

you shook your head, “no you didn’t,”

“well, i didn’t try,” he said, looking back at you now with a guilty expression, “you deserved better than that.”

“i mean, you were it for me too,” you confessed, “you still are.”

his expression changed, stepping a bit closer to you, “i’m sorry-“

“don’t, it’s okay,” you said, “you’re a busy man.”

“i should’ve made more time for you.”

you shook your head, “i didn’t really make an effort either, it’s okay.”

he reached out nervously, tucking a strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. you leaned into his warm touch, your cheek cold from the soft wind blowing in the winter air.

“can i get a redo?”

you smiled, “only if i do too.”

he chuckled, “you can have anything you want.”

you raised an eyebrow, “anything?”

he hummed, “anything, i mean it.”

you smiled, “if that’s the case, then i want you.”

his smile was contagious, a soft chuckle pushing past his lips before he responded, “i suppose i can make that work.”

you laughed, reaching and slipping his hand into yours. he squeezed it lightly, just like he used to. you leaned into him, his hand that you weren’t holding onto moving to pull you closer to him by your waist. you stood there for a minute, your head resting against his chest as you listened to the fast beat of his heart.

you moved your head, looking up at him as he smiled down at you, letting go of your hand to cup your cheek again, thumb brushing against the skin gently before you spoke, “can we go inside?”

“god, yes please,” he breathed, “it’s fucking freezing.”

you chuckled, leaning away from him, “you could’ve had your jacket back.”

he shook his head, “‘s alright.”

as he went to open the door for you, he spotted the familiar little flower hanging from the doorway. you noticed his pause, looking to where his line of vision was going.

“mistletoe.” you laughed softly.

he smiled, pulling you over to him, “c’mere,”

you joined him under the doorway, the plant hanging above both your heads as he leaned down, his hand back on your cheek. his lips brushed against yours as the two of you breathed.

“are you going to kiss me or not?” you smiled.

he shook his head playfully, “now i’m really thinking against it.”

“just shut up,” you mumbled, pulling him down to your level by his shirt as you collided your lips together. his kisses were exactly how you remembered them, soft and full of every emotion he could possibly squeeze into them. his hand on your cheek as the other found its home on your hip. your hands wrapped around his neck, nails tangling into the curls at the nape of his neck.

you both pulled away, giggling softly as you matched each others smile.

“merry christmas, lando.”

he nudged his nose with yours, leaning in for another kiss after, “merry christmas, y/n.”

[lemonwrap]

Mistletoe Mishaps

This is a gift for @tetradfreaker for the 2024 Ghoap Holiday exchange, hosted by the wonderful @forsaire!! I hope you like it :)

Read it on Ao3

Ghost doesn’t really do parties. 

Soap knows this because Ghost hasn’t attended a single Christmas party in the three years Soap has known him. …Actually, now that Soap’s thinking about it, Ghost hasn’t shown up to most of the various celebrations thrown and usually made an Irish exit when he had the chance. 

Having grown up in a big family with three sisters and a plethora of other relatives, Soap is used to every celebration being made into big events packed with people. It’s the typical kind of ‘party’ thrown on base—food, unfortunately nonalcoholic drinks, cheap decorations, and about fifty people gathered in the mess hall. It’s also exactly the kind of event Ghost would prefer not to attend, so Soap can’t be blamed for being surprised when he spots his lieutenant’s hulking figure in the tinsel-strung doorway.

“Lt, you made it!” Soap grins, abandoning Gaz and a few other soldiers to give Ghost a friendly punch on the arm. “Good to see ye this year.”

“Nice sweater,” Ghost deadpans, glancing at the garish red and green reindeer sweater that Soap is donning. “Dressed for the occasion, I see.”

“Nice mask,” Soap remarks. “Wasn’t Halloween a few months ago?”

At the quip, the corners of Ghost’s eyes crinkle in a smile, and Soap’s stomach definitely doesn’t do a little flip at the sight. 

“I’d rather have a Halloween party than this,” Ghost comments. 

“Why’d you show, then?” Soap asks. “Get visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past?”

“Just Price,” Ghost says. “You know how he is around the holidays.”

“Aye,” Soap says, thinking of their captain’s insistence on ‘team bonding’ whenever Christmas rolls around. “Want a cookie? Dawn brought some.”

“Have they got sprinkles?” Ghost asks. 

“Of course,” Soap replies.

“Good man,” Ghost says in that same approving tone he uses on ops, and Soap hopes his cheeks aren’t as red as they suddenly feel. 

…Okay, so maybe Soap has a bit of a crush. Whatever. Despite what Soap’s pastor growing up would have said, it’s not a crime to like looking at Ghost’s biceps or his deep, dark brown eyes and his long, blonde lashes, the only visible part of his face. Or his ass. Can’t forget that ass. 

Most of the tables have been pushed out of the way, so it’s easy for them to weave through the partygoers and to the front of the room, where a table filled with drinks, cookies, and other treats sits. A fake Christmas tree only three or so feet tall is set on it near the edge, adorned with a handful of ornaments. Most of the food is okay, but Laswell’s wife, Dawn, has a knack for baking and brought what Soap considers to be cookies just as good as his mum’s. Dawn herself is nowhere to be found, probably off with Laswell, but a few of her revered sugar cookies still remain on a plate.

“Got here in the nick of time,” Soap says and takes a cookie, round with red frosting. Ghost nabs the cookie with the most sprinkles, a green one shaped like a Christmas tree, and lifts up his mask to take a bite. The half Glasgow smile that runs from the corner of Ghost’s mouth and travels up until it’s hidden by his mask catches Soap’s attention like it always does, pale and long since healed. Soap likes watching how it curves on the occasion he can get Ghost to smile and has imagined how it would feel against his lips a few too many times. 

“Gonna eat that or just stand there?” Ghost asks, pointing at Soap’s cookie.

“Huh?” Soap says. Upon realizing that he’s been standing there and watching Ghost eat like an idiot, Soap hurries to eat his cookie. It’s pretty good, but he’s more distracted than usual by the man of his dreams. Sue him, but Soap knows what he wants for Christmas this year.

“Why are Christmas trees bad at sewing?” Ghost asks out of nowhere, his mouth quirking up but not smiling yet.

“I dinnae ken, you tell me,” Soap replies.

“‘Cause they always drop their needles,” Ghost says, and Soap chuckles a little. He’s liked Ghost’s horrible jokes since day one.

“Alright, what does a gingerbread man put on his bed?” Soap asks.

“A cookie sheet. I’ve heard that one, Soap.”

“Bastard. Alright, what do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire? Frostbite.”

That one gets Ghost to truly smile, just a small thing, and Soap treasures it. They quickly fall into their usual routine, telling shit jokes and borderline flirting with each other, like they have been for nearly three years at this point. 

Ever since Las Almas, Ghost has always matched Soap in every way, from being his equal in a spar to their endless back and forth bantering. Ghost was only trying to keep him calm and get both of them out of the city alive, but their talks continued long after Las Almas, with Ghost’s deep, gravelly voice haunting both Soap’s dreams and his waking moments. 

Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Soap gets the feeling Ghost isn’t opposed to going a little further than over-the-comms flirting. They just need to find the right moment.

So when Soap watches over Ghost’s shoulder as a mischievous soldier pins a mistletoe right over the doorway leading in and out of the mess hall, he has a brilliant idea. 

The mistletoe! All he has to do is get Ghost under it, and a kiss should naturally follow. Genius, really. 

It’s a few minutes before Soap can manage to subtly herd Ghost towards the doorway. He’s pleased with his progress until Corporal Hodges approaches, smiling.

“Lieutenant Riley! MacTavish!” he says. “I don’t think I’ve seen you at a Christmas party before, sir.”

“You haven’t,” Ghost says, already getting that bored expression he has when he’s not interested in talking to someone. Soap knows the feeling.

Amazingly, Soap doesn’t find Hodges annoying because he’s American. It’s actually because he’s a kiss-ass and tries to butter up his superiors, Ghost included. Ghost cuts it short every time, including today, in which he not-so-discreetly moves away from Hodges only thirty seconds after the corporal started talking. Unfortunately, that also means that Ghost moves away from the mistletoe hanging nearby, and Soap groans internally when Ghost strays far enough that Soap can’t guide him back without arousing suspicion. 

To Soap’s dismay, that pattern continues. Every time he tries to even get Ghost close to the mistletoe, his plan is somehow foiled. First it was Hodges. Then Ghost goes off to talk to Price. After that, Soap nearly has Ghost where he wants him, and then a private taps Soap to get his attention and asks him when his next demolitions demonstration will be. Soap would usually be thrilled to talk about demolitions, but he’s a little preoccupied, damnit!

“It’s hopeless,” he finds himself lamenting to Gaz after Ghost walks right under the mistletoe twice without pausing on the way to and from the restroom.

“Maybe he didn’t see it,” Gaz suggests, taking a sip of his soda.

“There’s no way he didnae see it, Gaz!” Soap exclaims, nearly spilling his own soda on Gaz when he throws his hands up in exasperation, “Look at the size of ‘im, his head nearly touches it!”

Soap is beginning to come to the conclusion that he will not be getting a kiss from Ghost tonight.

The final nail in the coffin is when two soldiers steal a brief peck under the mistletoe amidst the oohs and whoops of their peers, with Ghost being entirely unaffected by the display from where he’s standing next to Soap. Soap is pretty sure the universe is just messing with him at this point.

Ghost isn’t even looking directly at him. Having given up on the mistletoe being his chance, Soap indulges himself by silently gazing at his lieutenant instead. Ghost is as beautiful as ever, even surrounded by half-assed Christmas decorations and holding a plastic cup of soda. Not a supermodel or conventionally pretty, no, not with his scars and face shape that gives off the impression of a very ordinary-looking man, but Soap has spent enough time trying to put Ghost’s likeness down on paper to be certain that Ghost is all he could ever want or need.

“Did you want to come back with me?” Ghost says, turning his head to look at him.

“Um, what?” Soap fumbles, mind blanking and trying to look like he hasn’t been staring longingly at Ghost for the umpteenth time tonight. 

“I’ve got a gift for you,” Ghost explains, seemingly unaware of Soap’s hopeless pining. “Meant to bring it with me, but I forgot it in my room.”

“A gift?” Soap asks, and hopes Ghost doesn’t see the flush that must be on his face at the idea of Ghost getting him a gift.

“I can show you,” Ghost says. 

Soap doesn’t even bother to look up at that useless sprig of leaves as he hurries to catch up with his lieutenant, trying not to be disheartened by the whole thing. The mistletoe was decidedly not as brilliant of an idea as Soap had originally thought, but he’d like to think he has the balls to make a move anyway. The night’s not over. 

“So, is it a book?” Soap asks. The hallway is still brightly lit, not having reached lights out yet, so Soap can easily see how Ghost’s eyes shine with humor.

“No,” Ghost says. 

“Okay, a sketchbook.”

“Still no.”

“Matching pajamas.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Something very obscure that took you months to find.”

“You’ll see,” Ghost says, sounding amused. 

They stop in front of Ghost’s door at the end of the hallway before Soap knows it. He’s not expecting Ghost to turn around, pull that damned mistletoe out of his jacket pocket, and hold it over their heads. Stunned, Soap doesn’t make his move even when Ghost pulls his balaclava off, and oh, he’s just as stunning as Soap imagined, all dark brown eyes, scars, and blonde hair staticky from the balaclava, and—and then Ghost’s lips touch his.

It shouldn’t be anything special. Ghost’s mouth tastes like too-sweet icing, his lips are a bit chapped, and the hallway lighting isn’t exactly romantic, but Soap has died and gone to heaven, because Simon fucking Riley is kissing him. 

It’s over so much quicker than Soap would’ve liked, but it’s worth it when they part and he sees Ghost’s pale cheeks flushed pink and his eyes locked right on Soap.

“Not bad,” Ghost comments, sounding a bit winded, and his scarred lips curve into a smile—just how Soap likes.

“How’d you know?” Soap blurts out. “About the mistletoe.”

“It got kinda obvious after the third try.”

“Seriously?!”

————

“Thank god,” Gaz says to Price when the two finally leave the room, Ghost discreetly plucking the mistletoe from the top of the doorway and stuffing it in his pocket. “The puppy dog eyes were starting to get painful.”

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

Things I Can't Stop Thinking About Since the Gravity Falls Renaissance; An Overly Long Compilation

• It's mostly a joke-y cartoon thing but holy shit Dipper wakes up screaming kind of a lot??? How long has he been doing that for?? How long will he *be* doing it for??

• Stan had to basically teach himself advanced physics and complex multidimensional theories. He had the advantage of the portal mostly being built and having a bunch of the notes post-Bill, but still!! He had to learn how to operate the damn thing! I highly doubt Ford wrote about the portal in the same accessible manner he wrote about cryptids, especially as he spiraled into paranoia. The machinations of the portal weren't meant to be shared with the layperson, it just wouldn't be practical information for most people to have.

(also notable that he went through the whole process of learning how to operate the portal not only through pages and pages of dense code, but with the background of a 1970s highschool education and literally nothing else that would be relevant. Ford works really hard, but this is also stuff that comes to him very naturally. Designing a functioning portal wasn't the hard part. The hard part was getting the idea for the portal in the first place and knowing what to do with it. This shit is so ridiculously advanced and Stan is not an academic mind by any means. No wonder it took 30 years, he had to keep up a fake life and fund his project while grinding away at advanced quantum physics interdimensional whatever science wizard nonsense. I think about those 30 years a lot.)

• It doesn't really get addressed, but I think about Wendy being "super stressed out, like, all the time!" A lot. God, can you imagine living in the same house as Manly Dan? Let alone being the only girl there? Especially depending on when their mom left/died, she probably felt incredibly alone for a lot of her teen years. And given the Apocalypse Training it doesn't seem like Manly Dan is the most stable parent either.

• Stan, Ford, and Wendy could probably bond over having shitty holidays (and subsequently being forced into having awesome holidays when Mabel found out.) Filbrick took Stan and Ford to get free cinder block samples for Hanukkah, and the Corduroys did apocalypse training every year instead of Christmas.

• Pacifica still hears the voice of the Lumberjack ghost in her nightmares, but it's implied on the website that the Lumberfolk spirits have actually declared her under their protection since the events of Northwest Mansion Mystery. That means one of two things: that the ghost in her dreams is just her own guilt-ridden brain, or that the ghost has been appearing in her dreams to try and help her. I think about both options frequently.

• Stan struggles a lot of the time with physical activity, but that's mostly to do with age. He's actually really goddamn strong (beating down the zombies, punching a pterodactyl in the face, grabbing Ford and hoisting him up off the ground no problem, scaling scaffolding and holding the twins up by a rope one-handed). This makes the fact that Wendy beat him in an arm wrestling contest three times in a row way funnier.

• The way the Stans were almost definitely completely willing to beat a random guys ass so that Waddles could get on that bus. Stanford "Your math is no match for my gun you idiot!" Pines implicitly threatened to shoot a stranger with a Weird Sci-Fi Firearm for his great-niece. Stanley is even more direct. There is no confusing what brass knuckles will to to you. I also absolutely believe that they were not bluffing. One of them would've stolen the bus if the guy had mysteriously fallen unconscious due to unforseen circumstances.

• According to Soos, Tad Strange is crushing hard on Woodpecker Guy. Is this general town knowledge? Does everybody know that the Woodpecker marriage is on the rocks? How does one divorce a woodpecker? Alternatively, how does one get divorced *by* a woodpecker? Does Tad have a chance? Is this a small town scandal? Mr. Hirsch inquiring minds want to know. Has Toby Determined written a gossip column on this drama yet. Get your head in the game, Toby

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you.

FAKE IT 'TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase five:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none!

➴ word count: 1.8k

💌 from me to you: it’s still weird to me how this fic barely has any warnings… like what! no fights? no drugs? no misunderstandings? only love and fluff? weird. this one’s a little bit on the shorter side, hope u guys can forgive me :,) i love all of you

𖧷

𖧷

IT WAS December 25th, and you had just finished eating lunch with your family. Mia stopped by to visit you and your parents, and you took the opportunity to chat with her and ask what she thinks about the outfit you chose to visit Nico and his family.

“Do you think this is too much?”

Mia smiles at you while she plays with Tod, your family’s dog.

“No, baby. You look amazing. I’m sure Nico will want you as his present.”

You feel your cheeks getting warm and you try to hide them with your hands. “Don’t say that…”

“You’re so cute, Em,” she says, staring at you with fond eyes. “Is this your first time meeting his parents as his girlfriend?”

You sigh before nodding. Lying to your best friend feels terrible.

“Yes,” you sit on the couch, putting on your warmest boots. “That’s why I’m like this. I love his family a lot and I really want them to think I’m the right… person. For Nico.”

Stop talking, Emma, what the hell.

Mia smiles.

“You’re so cute,” she also gets up. “I’m sure they’ll see it right away.”

You really hoped so.

You and Mia told your parents goodbye and you promised them you’d be back by next week— since you’d go back to your house after visiting the Hischiers. They made Mia take two containers full of leftover food and promise she’d tell her mom to come visit them.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” Mia gives you a kiss on your forehead, squeezing your arms afterwards. “You’re amazing. And they already like you, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. “I hope you’re right.”

You drove to Nico’s house with shaky hands. You still remember the first time you met his parents, Katja and Rino; you were in one of the Devils games, and since you were sitting close to them, you started chit chatting with them, not knowing who they were.

You were young and very eager to see one of your favorite teams playing, and it was the first time you were going alone, with no one else, so the cute couple beside you seemed like the best company.

By the end of the second period you already knew a lot about them— they had three children, they were from Switzerland and they were visiting New Jersey for a week.

It was almost impossible not to freak out when they took you with them to the VIP room— a place you’d never been before, because despite being friends with Jack and Luke, they weren’t playing for the Devils at that time— and introduced you to their son, no one other than Nico Hischier himself.

You would’ve never imagined that years later you’d be going to his house, on Christmas, to meet his parents as his girlfriend.

Fake girlfriend.

Right.

You parked in front of his house and took a deep breath, reminding yourself that your lie would help Nico anyway.

Even if you could completely lose their trust if they found out.

You rang the doorbell and smiled when Rino opened the door for you, wearing a cute, adorable Christmas themed sweater.

“Hey, there, schätzli,” he greets you, his strong accent making you laugh. “You’re finally here.”

“Hi, Mr. Hischier,” you hug him, standing on the tip of your toes since Nico’s entire family consists of tall, gorgeous people. “So nice to see you again.”

“Come in, come in,” he opens the door wider and guides you in, as you stare at the room you’re— now— so used to. It’s heavily decorated with Christmas decorations and a huge tree sits on the corner of Nico’s living room. The fireplace is on, and the vibes are extremely cozy.

Nico is standing by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, talking to his brother, Luca, while Nina is sitting on the couch with her mom.

“Lueg, wär da isch!” Rino says, and even if you don’t understand it, you know he must’ve said something to announce that you had just arrived, because the second he’s done talking, all eyes are on you— Nico’s included.

“Oh my God, finally!” Nina says, jumping out of the couch and running to hug you. You hug her back just as fast, happy to see her after so long. “I’ve missed you, Roberts!”

You laugh, because Nina Hischier is the only person in the entire world who calls you by your last name instead of your first.

“I’ve missed you too, Nina.”

“You’re gorgeous!” She takes your hands and holds them together. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine,” you shrug, blushing with the attention. “What about you?”

“I’m super,” she says with a french accent, which makes you laugh. “Now I’m even more super because you’re my sister in law!”

Her excitement makes you sad. Because, technically, you’re not. What you and Nico have isn’t real, and will never be.

Nora Ellis is your real sister in law. Not me.

“Leave the poor girl alone, sweet baby Jesus,” Ratja takes your hands out of Nina’s hold and hugs you, kissing your cheek. “But you do look gorgeous, honey. Did you do something with your hair?”

“You stopped wearing those ugly, blue shoes. That’s what’s different.” Luca jokes and everyone laughs, as you roll your eyes.

You feel a pair of hands in your waist, and you shiver under Nico’s touch. You hadn’t even realized he had moved to your side, and was now standing behind you.

He kisses the top of your head before he says: “Leave my girlfriend alone. D ihr sind so nöig,” he clicks his tongue. “Sorry about this.”

“‘s fine,” you say, shaking your head. “And for the record, my blue boots weren’t ugly. You just don’t understand what fashion is.”

“Sure we don’t.” Luca says back, and you need to hold the want of flipping him off back.

“We were just about to watch a movie,” Rino says, sitting back on the couch, stretching his legs. “Can you join us? Or do you have somewhere else to be?”

“I’m free all afternoon.” You smile, and they start discussing which Christmas movie is the best.

While their loud voices fill the entire house, Nico’s whisper in your ear is the only thing you focus on.

“Thank you for coming. I owe you.”

You turn around, facing him and his chocolate eye, realizing how he looks so cute, with his face a little flushed due to the warmth provided by the fire.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you smile. “It’s part of the deal.”

“The deal was to help me trick Nora, not my family,” he says, and you roll your eyes, playfully.

“It’s the same thing. We’ll be fine. We survived worse things, right?”

“Mhm,” he puts a strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes scanning your entire face. “Like that one dinner last month.”

You grin. “Yeah. Like that one dinner last month.”

“Will you guys stop being disgusting and come here?” Nina asks, and you blush while Nico says something to her in Swiss-German— probably a curse word since his dad told him to stay quiet.

“Uh…” you start, looking at the couch. Nina and Luca were both sitting in the remaining chairs beside the couch, and Nico’s parents were sitting side to side on it.

“Come sit with me.” Nico whispers, walking to the free space on the couch and taking you with him.

You can feel yourself start to panic when you realize he doesn't want you to sit beside him, but on him.

Yet, if you’d started bickering about it, it would look suspicious. All of his family were just waiting for you both to get comfortable so they could start the movie, so you couldn’t take too long deciding whether you’d sit on or beside him.

Nodding, you sit sideways on Nico’s lap, holding in a sigh of satisfaction. He’s warm and his clothes are smelling like him, and when you rest your head against his chest, with his arms holding you close and his chin resting on top of yours, you know you’re absolutely done.

“Are we all ready?” Katja asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, signaling to Nina so she could press play and start the movie.

You can feel Nico’s chest going up and down, his breathing steady and calm. His heart is beating and the sound soothes you, guiding you into a deep state of calm, while you try to keep yourself calm.

You shouldn’t feel like this. Not with him. Not with the man you’re supposed to be helping, the man you’re supposed to be supporting.

He’s in love with someone else, and has been for years now. Yet, you keep replying to the past two months in your head, wishing you could go back in time just to make the most out of those moments again.

When he took you ice skating. When you kissed him at that party. When he bought you lunch and dinner for three days straight until you begged him to stop. When you forced him to dance with you at one of the Devils’ parties.

Now you’re on his lap, watching a silly movie with his family. To them, you’re his girlfriend. To them, you’re the only person he loves and cherishes.

And you are not even one of those things.

𖧷

“Let her sleep, oh my God, you guys are monsters.”

“Nico, take her to your room. Poor thing looks tired.”

“I can’t do that with all of you standing here and looking at her like she’s some kind of experiment. If she wakes up she’ll feel weirded out.”

“Well, if she isn’t weirded out by your face, then she won’t be weirded out by anything else.”

“Halt d'schnurre.”

“Nico!”

YOU WAKE up with the soft feeling of fabric beneath you, and you open only one eye, staring at Nico in front of you. Or at least you expect it’s him, since the room’s dark you can’t really see anything besides a silhouette.

“Sorry,” someone whispers. It’s definitely Nico. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“‘s okay,” you mumble, closing your eyes again and getting comfortable between his sheets. They all smell like him and this time you don’t hold in your content sigh. “You’re not coming to bed?”

He takes a few seconds to answer. When he does, you’re almost back in Dreamland, almost not even acknowledging the words he’s saying.

“Yeah,” you feel the other side of the bed sinking beside you. His arms wrap around you and now you’re laying on top of something way more comfortable than a pillow, his chest. “Good night, schätzi.”

You give him a lazy, tired smile. “Good night Nico.”

𖧷

ninahischier

Newark, New Jersey

liked by elladavis and 176 others

ninahischier Schöni Wiehnachte ❤️ Thought this picture was too cute to stay in my camera roll nicohischier emmaroberts

View all 20 comments

user1 Is that Nico with a girl? A Christmas miracle indeed! 😂

ninahischier user1 I know right

miaturner praying circle against loving couples in my house today at 11:99 🙏🏻

ninahischier miaturner I’m in

elladavis oh they’re so adorable :( God bless them

nataliebrooks Sooo cute! Merry Christmas!! 🎄❤️

emmaroberts oh my god

user2 was für es schöis paar!!!!

jackhughes I thought i was your favorite cap :/

<next chapter>

[stevesbipanic]

@steddiemas Day 23: "You were how old when you stopped believing in Santa?"

Steve didn't know how but he'd been volunteered as the one to take Holly to see the mall Santa this year. From what he'd been told Holly had practically begged Karen to let Steve take her. She was always his favourite to babysit so he really didn't mind, but he did get Eddie to accompany him. Thankfully, his boyfriend didn't mind and actually thought Holly was pretty fun since she liked to pretend to be dragons with him.

Holly had taken both of their hands once they arrived at the mall, insisting that they swing her as they walked towards the line for Santa.

"I'm going to ask him for a dolly that looks like you, Stevie!"

"Aw thanks Holly, but you can ask for any doll you want ya know."

"I know but I want a pretty doll like you!"

"Yeah she wants a pretty doll like you, sweetheart."

Steve smiled fondly at the pair of them and was hit with the desire that one day he and Eddie could take their own daughter to see Santa. They patiently waited in line until it was Holly's turn. Steve could confidently say she was one of the more polite kids he'd seen go up to Santa that afternoon. He watched as she smiled brightly at Santa, telling him what she wanted for Christmas and blushed softly when she pointed at him as she asked for toys. After the picture they went for ice cream and she was asleep by the time they dropped her home.

It was a good day, and the boys talked about how cute Holly had been when they got back to their apartment that night.

"She's a good kid, much better than I was at that age, I complained the whole way when Wayne took me, I had stopped believing in Santa by the time I got to him. Mom was good with getting me Santa gifts but after she died it wasn't hard to connect the dots," Eddie explained cuddling into Steve on the couch.

"You got further than me, I never even got a Santa photo, the Nanny did Santa for me for a couple years but when you're three and you wake up to your parents packing for a vacation without you and not a single gift under the tree it's not hard to work out that Santa was fake," Steve replied, and he could feel Eddie stiffen beside him.

"You were how old when you stopped believing in Santa?"

"Three, although I don't think I really believed much anyway, no one told me many Christmas stories."

"Steve," Eddie said in that tone that Steve had come to know as the one people used when he shared something that was sadder than he realised it was.

"What?"

"Just adding things to my list of reasons I'm killing your parents."

Steve laughed softly, "Good luck I think they've decided I was dead to them once they heard I moved into the town's local drug dealer."

Eddie had that look in his eye that he was planning something but kissed Steve before he had much chance to ask. He learned what it was soon enough when the next day Eddie drove them back to the mall.

"What're we doing here, Eds? We already did our Christmas shopping."

"You'll see, sweetheart."

They exited the car and Steve wished they lived somewhere that let them hold hands. But Eddie still found moments to brush against his side until they reached their destination.

"Why are we at Santa again?"

"You said you never got a Santa photo, well we're going to get one, together."

Steve turned to his boyfriend and smiled brightly, no one had cared about him in the way Eddie did, he felt loved wholly.

"Robbie is going to be jealous."

"She'll forgive me, we'll do one of the three of us next year, maybe she'll have asked out Vickie by then."

Their Santa photo took a proud centre space on their refrigerator and it became one of Steve's favourite.

Ao3

[holylulusworld]

Peacock

Summary: It's your birthday and you end up eating alone.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Warnings: angst, trust issues, abandonment, Ransom being a douche, unrequited feelings, being lonely during birthday/Christmas, having the blues,

A/N: This is the alternative version of Dinner for one. I decided to turn it into a story too but with a different ending.

Written for: Winter Break Advent: Day 22 – Quote: "We click. There aren't that many people that you just 'click' with; and when you find those people, you don't just let them go."

“Anything else, sweetie,” the elderly waitress at your favorite café asks. Her name is Dolores, and she’s always kind. She knows it’s your birthday and brought you a cupcake with a burning candle for free. “Happy birthday.”

She watches you glance at the cupcake. You sniffle and try not to cry. This stranger showed more interest in you and your birthday than anyone else in your life.

“Thank you,” is all you get out. You blow the candle out, wishing for nothing but to not feel the aching in your chest any longer. “That’s so kind of you.”

“Don’t sweat it, sweetie. You’re my best and favorite customer,” she smiles and refills your cup. “Chamomile, your favorite.”

“Again, thank you,” you fake a smile. She’s so kind, and you don’t want to be ungrateful. “This made my day.”

“I’ll bring you your order later. Eat the cupcake and remember, not all days are bad. One day the sun will shine for all of us again.”

Damn her, she read you like a book. “I guess,” you drop your eyes and look at the cupcake again. “It just doesn’t feel like it right now.”

“It will,” she insists and walks off, whistling a tune.

“Maybe—” you swallow thickly when the man you had hoped to never see again waltzes into the café, smirking like nothing has changed. He holds the door open for two girls, and two of his buddies. “Why?”

This can’t be. Today out of all days he had to come here. Your favorite café. Ransom always hated it and now he’s here, on your birthday after he broke your heart.

He straightens his hair and puffs his chest. Showing off his expensive coat and the scarf you bought him for his birthday. He looks like a peacock wanting to impress the ladies. You giggle as he looks stupidly handsome and like an idiot at the same time.

His eyes dart from the table the waitress orders toward your table. For a moment, it looks like he stiffens when his eyes meet yours. He clears his throat, and turns away, acting like he didn’t see you sitting alone at the table.

“Hey, Ransom,” one of his buddies punches his upper arm, “isn’t that the mouse you dated some months ago?” The guy points at your table. You try to ignore him, and the girls looking in your direction.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Ransom snaps at his friend, adding another crack to your fragile heart. He can’t even admit that he used to date you. “I don’t date girls like her.”

“Dude, it’s her,” the other man insists. “I remember the pout and her mousish behavior. I bet she must be a bomb in the bedroom, if not you wouldn’t keep a girl like her around.”

“Listen, I don’t know that woman. Can we eat now, or do you want to ask me if I dated half of the people at the café,” Ransom gets louder, making you flinch.

He seems to be embarrassed by his friend’s question. Of course, he’s ashamed of dating you. You’re not one of his wealthy buddies or the spoiled girls hanging on his every word.

You exhale sharply as he continues to explain that he would never date someone like you. He even makes fun of the sweater you’re wearing. Even though he told you he found it cute not so long ago.

Self-cautiously you look down on your body, regretting that you decided to wear your favorite blue sweater with snowflakes today. You try to look away, or not listen to their words, but it’s impossible to not see Ransom staring your way.

“Sweetie, I got you birthday cake,” right when you want to flee out of the café, the waitress returns with three of her colleagues. They start singing Happy Birthday, and the lump in your throat grows.

The guests at the café get up to join the waitresses. They sing Happy Birthday and clap their hands, making things worse for you.

Ransom and his friends get up too, laughing and joking as they pretend to sing with the other people. You’re close to running out of the café and leaving town to forget about this awful birthday.

A few weeks ago, you were in love and believed you’d spend your birthday with Ransom.

 Now you are in the same room, but miles apart.

You’re living in different worlds, and this will never change. He’s got a huge trust fund, and you struggle to make ends meet sometimes. When you met Ransom he knew that you still got to pay back your study loan.

“That’s,” your voice cracks when they place a birthday cake in front of you. “Very nice. I-I’m overwhelmed.”

“I hope you enjoy your cake,” one of the waitresses sing-songs. She smiles, and hands you a fork. “It’s a red velvet cake. Your favorite.”

People sit back down and finally turn their attention toward their lives. You release a shuddery breath as the waitresses and some guests expectantly look at you. “That’s a beautiful cake,” you sniff. “But I already got the cupcake.”

“It’s a gift from one of the customers,” Dolores whispers. “We got instructions to serve you the cake when you come here today.”

“What? I don’t understand. Why would anyone buy a cake for me? I don’t know many people in town.”

“Well sweetie, he must be wealthy,” the waitress from earlier giggles. “This is the most expensive cake and he wanted extras. Just enjoy.”

“I rather not,” you doubt whoever bought the cake wanted to be nice. Gifts always come at a price. And you are not willing to be in anyone’s debt. “Can you take it back? Maybe tell the person who ordered the cake for me they can eat it.”

“Sorry, no returns,” she coos and points at the cake. “Dig in, miss. It’s free and very delicious. Look, the cook used leaf gold for the decoration. You don’t want us to throw it away, right?”

“No.” You hate this. All of it. Someone bought you a cake and expects you to eat it, just like the waitresses. “I’ll try it later.”

“She still got the cupcake. Maybe she can take the cake home,” Dolores jumps in. She offers to put the cake in a box for you to take the cake home. “Right, sweetie. You will take it home.”

Dolores tells the others to go back to work. She gives you a sympathetic look and walks away to get the box.

You shift in your seat and try to focus on the cupcake and your now cold tea. It’s not how you imagined spending your birthday but it’s better than to hide at your apartment and think about Ransom, and your breakup.

Ransom watches you eat the cupcake. He frowns as Dolores puts the cake in a box. You don’t look his way any longer. You finish your cupcake and drink your tea. When you get up to leave, you thank Dolores and reluctantly take the box with the cake.

It takes all of your strength, but you manage to pass Ransom’s table by and not look at him. You exhale sharply as one of his friends calls you mouse and cups his crotch.

“Y/N, open the door!” Ransom is fuming outside of your apartment. “Why did you refuse to eat the cake I ordered for you? I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“Like bringing these people to our place? How could you, Ran? How?” You sniffle. “You walked around the café I showed to you like a peacock to impress these women. Why did you come to the café? And why did you buy the cake?”

“Babycakes,” he sighs deeply. “I’m…we…I let their words get to me. I was a fool to believe I could spend a day without you.”

“You laughed about me at the café!”

“Please let me in,” he pleads. “I came to the café to talk to you, knowing you’ll be there. Frankie and the others waited outside. I must’ve talked about this place, and they wanted to try it out. I’m sorry for their behavior.”

“Just go away, and take that cake with you,” you open the door to push the box with cake into his hands. “We are done, just like you said.”

“I said we should take a break to think about our relationship,” he looks at the box in his hands. “I got scared, Y/N. You know that I have commitment issues and trust issues. But…I wanna get better.”

“You want to hurt me even more to make fun of me with your friends,” you sniff. “I’m done with people walking all over me. I won’t have it.”

“Please don’t give up on me, Y/N. I’m not the best boyfriend and I got flaws but…” He shrugs. “We click. There aren't that many people that you just 'click' with; and when you find those people, you don't just let them go.”

“You let me go,” you tap your heart. “You broke my heart and now you stand on my doorstep asking me to take you back?”

“If you can forgive me, I promise to heal your heart…”

You take the cake out of his hands and jerk your head toward the door. “I’ll eat the cake, and maybe, I’ll call you. For now, I want you to leave me alone.”

Tags in reblog.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Christmas Cooking

Hi guys!

Here is one with this sweet cutie pie that is Lia :)

This one is shorter but please enjoy it!

TW : None

Your girlfriend is, in your humble opinion, the most lovely and cute person in the world. Before you even found the courage to propose her a date, you always had this soft spot for her. The way her eyes shine when you accept one of her demands or the falsehoods digging in her cheeks make you simply unable to refuse her anything.

And God knows how much your teammates tease you about it. But over time you’ve made a point and accepted your destiny. You're so wiped about your girlfriend.

So, when Lia asks you with a baby pout if you can make Christmas cookies this afternoon, she doesn’t need to use all her persuasion to make you agree. You both live in London a few hundred meters from each other, but Lia took you in her suitcase when she returned to Switzerland to her family.

After a visit to the Swiss supermarkets, Chocolat's paradise, you gathered the necessary ingredients and found yourself wearing an apron and a dispenser to prepare the dough.

The kitchen is quite a mess to be honest. There is floor everywhere, an impressive number of plates and utensils in the shrink. You somehow lose the scissors and you can't remember why your shirt is wet.

"Baby stop eating the dough" Lia laughs, clapping your hand away.

"Wasn’t me" you answer, mouth full of said dough.

Lia laughs again before focusing again on the recipe book. She must still be one of the only people to follow a recipe on a book, but it is also for this kind of singularity that you fell in love with her.

"Sugar" she asks you, reaching out without leaving the book with her eyes.

You hesitate to tease her once again, before deciding to be wise and to give her the bowl of sugar that you weighed carefully earlier. Lia saw things big, wanting to prepare three different kinds of dough. But she seems to be having a good time and you’re having a lot of fun too, to be fair.

"Milk, Pretty, please"

Once again, Lia reaches out and this time you don't resist. With a big smile, you press your face on her hand.

"You’re unbearable" Lia laughs, putting a tender kiss on your lips.

"You love me" you answer maliciously, holding out the milk.

"That I do"

A few dozen minutes later, several cookie are in front of you and have cooled enough for you to decorate them. You spend a long time preparing your trees, adding green dye and Smarties as Christmas balls. Lia is more adventurous and you are amazed by her talents as a cookie decorator.

When you are done, you clean the worktop before washing your hands and try to get rid of the green dye that has invaded your hands. You’ll soon be able to play the Grinch. When you are done, your eyes are once again drawn to your girlfriend who is always focused on her cookies.

She has red dye on her cheek and hair that escapes from the ponytail that she made so as not to be disturbed while cooking. She is focused on her work, tongue pulled to the side. You don't resist the urge to put yourself behind her, passing your arms around her waist to put a tender kiss on her cheek.

"You’re so cute" you whisper in her ear, smiling as she shivers.

You just have to put a kiss behind her ear to distract her and make her look at you.

"You are a real inconvenience"

Her harsh fake tone doesn't work and you laugh maliciously and squeeze her against you. Lia soon smiles in turn, turning entirely in your arms to steal a kiss before returning to work. You remove the red stain from her cheek with your fingers, staying still to let her finish. You’re actually almost mesmerized by the way she decorated her cookies.

If one of you gets hurt too badly to continue football, you can always switch back to it.

********

YourInstagram and Liawaelti

Liked by leah.williamsonn, alessiarusso99, ana_crnogorcevic and 20 882 others people.

YourInstagram Preparing my (hopefully distant) future profesionnal conversion

See the 218 comments

jbeattie91 Save me some! ↳ YourInstagram Sure! ↳ liawaelti She already eat all of them ↳ YourInstagram Traitor

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 4/7

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 2.8k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

-

Chapter Four

The next two shifts were mostly normal. Maybe he talked to Evan a little more and didn’t shy away from joining a conversation that included Evan. Maybe their eyes caught a few times and Tommy was tempted to just throw caution to the wind and drag Evan into an empty space and kiss him just because. Maybe, he’d started to get excited about the possibilities that existed if he and Evan really gave it a go between them. Tommy didn’t really think anyone noticed. 

“You’re cheerier than usual,” Howie said to him while they decorated the tree.

“I guess I’m in the holiday spirit,” Tommy said and added a few more ornaments to the tree.

“That is not like you,” Howie said. “Did you meet someone or something? You’re even being nicer to Buck.” 

“I’ve never been mean to Buck.” 

“You skirt a fine line,” Hen observed. “A very fine line and lately that’s changed a bit. It’s not a bad thing.” 

Hen was setting up the table where they would start to collect the donated gifts in a few hours. She fixed the tablecloth so it lay straighter.  

“I guess I just realized he isn’t that bad,” Tommy said. 

He spotted Evan bringing a pile of wrapped cardboard boxes to throw under the tree and he had found a Santa hat to perch atop his head. He looked adorable. Tommy maybe lost a step because he was watching him a bit too closely. 

“What?” Evan asked. “Do I have something on my face?” 

Chim took a few of the boxes. “Just your head.” 

“Very festive,” Tommy added. 

Was it bad that Tommy pictured him in nothing but the hat spread out on his bed? Probably. Hen caught his eye, raised a brow and Tommy had to look away quickly. If Evan, who literally said everything that came to mind hadn’t told them he wasn’t straight, it wasn’t Tommy’s place. 

Between Chim and Evan, they had the fake presents arranged. Tommy added the last of the ornaments and that was probably as well as they were going to do.

“Looking good,” Bobby said. “I’m sure we’ll bring in lots of toys for the kids.”  

A few hours later when people started arriving to drop off toys, Tommy got busy with sorting everything into the boxes that the Toys for Tots people would pick up in a few days. It was all going well for a while until he saw when Evan checked out a woman that walked up to him, saw the way he smiled at her and how she spent more time than necessary talking to Buck. 

“At least, it’s doubtful he’ll steal the ladder truck again,” Howie said. “And…she’s leaving her number.” 

Tommy didn’t know what the feeling growing in his gut was. Jealousy? Maybe a little, even though he really had no claim on Evan and Evan could do whatever he wanted. It just sobered him, reminded him that all they’d had was essentially a hook up and for Evan that was normal. It was what he did. 

Tommy turned away from Evan and Howie both, fixing a few more toys in the box. At the first chance he got, he snuck towards the bathroom and he allowed himself a moment. He’d let himself get not invested, but hopeful. He had to think about the reality and the reality was that Evan, no matter how nice and funny and charming, was still the guy that hooked up with women regularly and never really had relationships. There was nothing wrong with that and Tommy could have a bit of fun, but that was all that it would be. 

He heard the door open and turned in time to see Evan lean against the door, reaching behind him to click the lock. 

“Aren’t you collecting toys?” 

“Hen’s got it,” Evan said and then strode towards Tommy, taking grasp of his chin and kissing him. 

Tommy could do nothing but respond, kissing him back and gasping when Evan pressed him into the wall behind him, keeping their lips locked. 

“Shouldn’t do this at work,” Tommy managed to get out in between kisses that he did not stop. 

“Been wanting to kiss you for days,” Evan said, breath hot on Tommy’s neck before his lips were there and Tommy was leaning his head back onto the wall. “Can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Tommy was hard in his pants. It wasn’t difficult, not when a man as hot as Evan was kissing him and rubbing up against him. He could feel Evan was hard too and they rutted into each other and he shouldn’t have been surprised when Evan reached down to open his pants.

“Ev…Evan, we’re at work.” 

“So what,” Evan said and his hand grasped Tommy gently and then a little tighter. 

If they were going to do this, then Tommy needed it to be quick. Hen and Chim would notice they were gone. Evan’s hand felt amazing, and Evan kept kissing his neck and his jaw and when Tommy had to stifle a moan his lips were there to catch it. Tommy came and Evan somehow had a napkin ready to go so none of it got on either of their clothes. Evan threw it in the direction of the trash and it missed, but he didn’t seem to care, instead he was content to just stay close to Tommy and happy when Tommy pulled him into another kiss and when Tommy’s hand went to Evan’s pants. 

The belt was already undone and it wasn’t hard to open his pants and then there was Evan’s cock a little red and leaking. Tommy wanted to taste him. From the looks of it, Evan wouldn’t last. 

Tommy kissed Evan once more and then he dropped down to his knees. The tile was hard and cold on his knees but none of that mattered. Evan looked shocked, but his hand touched Tommy’s jaw and then hair and Tommy put his mouth on him. 

The weight of Evan’s cock on his tongue was everything. Tommy gave it his all, licking and sucking and using his hand to fondle his balls. It didn’t take long for Evan to start squirming and for him to stifle groans into his forearm as he came. Tommy swallowed and it seemed to turn Evan boneless because he slumped forward, hand catching himself on the wall. 

Tommy tucked him back in, took care of closing his pants and doing his belt. 

“Tommy that was—” 

“Yeah,” Tommy said, but he was conscious of how long they had already been gone. 

They washed their hands and then shared one last kiss that Evan groaned into and that left Tommy smirking because Evan was tasting himself. 

“Take a few minutes,” Tommy said. 

“Uh. Sure.” 

Then, Tommy left him there. 

A bunch more toys had been added to the pile. Karen had shown up with Denny with a small pile of her own and Denny was admiring the Christmas tree. Tommy had met him enough times to know he was a quiet kid. A good kid. He smiled and waved at Tommy. Tommy waved back. 

“Hey, Tommy,” Karen said. “How did it go the other night getting Buck back to his place?” 

“Oh. He stayed at mine. I have a pull out. He didn’t seem to want to go home.” 

“Oh,” Karen said. 

Did Tommy see Hen and Karen share a look between them. 

“It’s those roommates,” Hen threw in. “He really needs to start looking for his own place. It’s practically a frat house over there, Buck is probably the most responsible of them all which is saying something.”

“That bad, huh,” Tommy said. 

A couple walked up then, holding a couple of Barbies. Tommy moved to thank them and receive the boxes. He’d just placed them on the pile when he saw Evan return. He looked a little flushed still, but happy. Tommy almost couldn’t look away. 

-

There was just something about Tommy. It was hard to not look at him, or want to touch him, or want to talk to him. So much so that when he realized Tommy had disappeared into the bathroom, Buck gave it a couple of minutes before making an excuse to also disappear. 

Afterwards, he felt a little more settled, except that Tommy still looked like that and Buck had to fight with himself to not just make some excuse that got them both out of work. Buck felt like back when he had sex for the first time when he was a teenager and how with that door open he just wanted to have sex all the time. It was all he thought about and all that he wanted. It was the same with Tommy. 

Maybe he hadn’t been wrong about thinking that he did have a sex addiction, except that it was more like an addiction to Tommy and neither of them had even penetrated the other yet. Though thinking about Tommy’s mouth, the way his lips looked while he took Buck in…well, that would be sitting right in his mind the next time he was on his own and needing to take matters into his own hands.  

He and Tommy didn’t spend any more alone time for the rest of the shift and the only acknowledgement of their as of yet undetermined plans, was Tommy touching his shoulder as he headed out. 

“See you tomorrow, Evan. I’ll text you.” 

Tommy did text him the next morning and while Buck waited for the Mr. Coffee to brew his coffee, they texted back and forth and settled on meeting up for lunch. That gave Buck plenty of time to freak out about what to wear and what it meant for him and Tommy to go out like this. On a date. He was going on a date with a dude. 

A few hours later and he was still wrapping his mind around it. 

“Hey, Evan, you alright there?” Connor asked and Buck had forgotten he’d left his door open. 

“I have a date,” Buck said and managed to swallow ‘with a dude’ before he could add that on. 

“Oh, really,” Connor said with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

Connor was the reason Buck was in LA and Buck had never thought about it much, especially not when he’d been so excited to find a new adventure after being in Peru and getting bored of it. Buck remembered how much he’d liked talking to him when he was serving drinks and how his eyes had caught his smile and liked when he was responsible for it. 

“Meet this one on the job?” Connor asked. 

“Huh. Yeah, actually,” Buck said. “I did.”

“Well, I was going to invite you out to the bar tonight, but since you have a date I’m sure you’ll be busy.” 

Buck rolled his eyes. He heard Connor start to leave and something compelled him to stop him because he couldn’t talk to Hen or Chim or…oh, he couldn’t imagine talking to Bobby about this. It would have been nice if he’d had Maddie around, but since he doubted the Christmas postcard he sent her would be answered — just like all the others — then Connor was probably his best bet. 

“Hey, Connor, have you ever been checking out someone’s ass and realized like five minutes too late that it belongs to a guy?” 

It was probably not the best way to go about this, but he didn’t know how else to approach it. 

Connor eyed him. “No,” he said with a laugh. “What’s going on?”

“I think. No…no, I know, but I think I’ve always checked out guys. Like, a hot ass is a hot ass, you know? And I guess I figured everyone thought that but now—”

“Now you’re realizing not everyone sees things like you,” Connor said. “I think we all get there sometime. What’s bringing this out now?” 

“My date tonight,” Buck said. “It’s uh, it’s with a guy.” 

Connor’s eyebrows went up high. “Oh. So, you’re like just jumping right in. Whole gay experience or whatever.” 

“I’m not gay,” Buck said at once. 

“Yeah, but you’re not straight either. And, it’s perfectly fine. You like this guy, so go for it.” 

He didn’t need Connor to validate him, but it was nice nonetheless to have him just shrug it all off, like who Buck dated or kissed or had sex with didn’t really matter. Connor walked to the door again, but he turned and glanced back at Buck. Offering him a smile. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t deep dived in some research spiral about this.”

“I’ve been distracted,” Buck admitted, fully aware that he was blushing. 

“Oh,” Connor said and laughed. “It’s like that.” 

“Shut up.”  

Buck went through a few outfit changes, put a bit more product in his hair, and then realized that it was time he headed out if he was planning on not being late.

“Good luck,” Connor told him as Buck approached the door. “Make good choices with your man and your gay awakening.” 

“Rude. And, Connor, I’m bisexual.” 

-

Evan had that ability to go from hot to adorable all in the space of a couple of minutes. Tommy had arrived a little early for their date, so he was outside the restaurant and got to watch as Evan walked towards him looking so effortlessly hot and then when he spotted Tommy, he broke into such a huge grin and Tommy was left trying to catch his breath. Then, Evan was there and pulling him into a hug. 

“Hi,” Evan said. “Ready to go in?” 

They walked inside and the hostess seated them right away, one of the perks of lunch instead of dinner. Neither Evan or Tommy had said it while planning, but Tommy was hoping that lunch could turn into going back to his place and that they could wind up getting dinner together too. It was perhaps a bit presumptuous, but Tommy knew Evan and Evan had said he had the whole day free. 

Tommy had shared many meals with Evan before, but usually they were surrounded by other people, with several conversations going on at once and people talking over each other. Tommy tended to be quieter, contributing only when it was truly necessary and never in a conversation with Evan. It was different to have Evan’s undivided attention, but Tommy liked it. 

“So, your art,” Evan said after they’d put in their orders. 

“What about it?” 

“What do you do with it? Do you sell it or gift it or display it anywhere? It’s very good.” 

“It’s not,” Tommy said quickly. “I enjoy doing it, but it’s just fun.” 

“But you’re so good.” 

Tommy didn’t think that was true. Not a lot of people had seen it, but Tommy could hardly compare it to real artists. 

“That’s subjective,” Tommy said. “You saw it in the middle of the night. You were probably still drunk.” 

“If you ask Bobby, I’m sure he’ll love that one of the ladder truck to hang at the firehouse.” 

It would fit in at least, but Tommy didn’t think it was anything too special. Anyone could sketch out a firetruck and then paint it red. 

“You know,” Evan said, “I always thought you were this confident cool guy, but I’m seeing a different side of you.”

Tommy didn’t know how to take that.

“Not…it’s not a bad thing. There’s so much more to you I didn’t know, is all. I like knowing that and getting to know you.”

“And what about you, Evan, are you hiding any secret hobbies?” 

Evan chuckled. “Not really. I mean, I’ve had a lot of jobs but it’s not like I still do any of those things.” 

“Jobs? Like what?” 

Apparently there were quite a few things. He was a mixologist. He’d been a lifeguard and used that as an excuse to surf all the time. He’d worked as a ranch hand. He’d done a few retail jobs. Construction. He’d travelled across the US bartending and taking any odd job and then gone through the training to become a Navy SEAL before dropping out and moving to Peru where he was a bartender right on a beach.  

“And somehow you landed a firefighter in LA,” Tommy said. 

“It stuck. It’s where I’m meant to be. I think it was what I was always searching for. Making a difference. Actually helping people.” 

Tommy couldn’t deny that he enjoyed getting to know more about Evan. He was more than just the impatient, impulsive kid that Tommy had convinced himself that Evan was. It did nothing to help Tommy find a good Christmas present, but he also was pretty sure that Evan would be happy to receive anything. 

Their lunch went by too quickly, the food disappearing from their plates, until Tommy was grabbing the bill before Evan could protest. 

“You’ll just pay next time,” Tommy said. 

It sounded presumptuous, but he saw Evan’s smile, the way it reached his eyes. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Next time.”

[pastel-peach-writes]

bro I love your storys so much😭especially the catvi ones lol just wanted to ask if it was possible since it's winter time, to write a Christmas special with Caitlyn and vi× reader where it's snowing and they're decorating for Christmas and opening presents n'all that holiday related stuff,i would really really appreciate it, idk if it's such a good idea tho lol,but the end of the day it's your choice if you wanna write it or not , and again I love your works,keep doing what your doing,it's literally god work😭🙏

HIII ANON! I love this idea! For those who don't celebrate Christmas, I will be making a more vague/winter headcanons post to make sure everyone is included in some way possible. Happy holidays and New Year to everyone!

Merry Christmas (Ya Filthy Animal) | CaitVi Headcanons

╰┈➤ PLOT: Headcanons of CaitVi spending Christmas with you!

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Not Proofread, Sapphic Fluff, No Use of Y/n, Mention of Modern AU

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

– One thing about babygirl Vi is that she absolutely loves Christmas.

– When she was younger and with her parents, they did occasional Christmas activities, but nothing serious. Then with Vander and Powder, Vi tried to keep the Christmas spark alive for her sister, but eventually, the two of them lost the Christmas spark as they grew older.

– Despite wanting to rekindle her love for Christmas, Vi never had the time or resources to (ya know, being in prison and all).

– So, with you and Caitlyn, she gets to act like a kid again.

– She forces you guys awake super early on a weekend to get a real Christmas tree, cider or hot cocoa, and to shop for some decorations.

– Caitlyn's a casual enjoyer of Christmas.

– Her family celebrated, but celebrating to the Kirammans meant fancy and stuck-up dinners, stiff Christmas dresses, and getting clothes you didn't like as a child.

– Caitlyn much preferred the romanticization of Christmas like baking cookies, taking your partner(s) out into the snow to dance in the streets, reading by the fire, and listening to Christmas songs while decorating the house.

– Also, the Kirammans believed in fake trees to avoid mess and hired someone to decorate the house once they felt Cait was old enough to remember decorating for Christmas. (so like, age 8 is when they began to hire people).

– You can imagine Caitlyn's worry when Vi first brought up chopping down a tree and dragging it into the house.

–– In Vi's words, the trees you see before the tree farm are better in height, thickness, and smell.

A grunt came from the buff pinkette. She lodged her axe into the tree's thick bark, barely making a scratch. "I'm sure, Cupcake. Come on, I've seen movies about this."

"Oh, yeah? And how did that work out for them?" you chimed.

Vi let out a sarcastic laugh. "It went just fine." – –

– After the initial shock was gone and pine droppings were scattered throughout the house, Caitlyn found herself buzzing with excitement. Vi was right. The smell of pine-scented ornaments and sprays was nothing compared to the real thing.

– Just don't tell Vi that.

– When it comes to decorating the house and the tree, you guys have a routine and assigned roles.

– Vi gets the tree, brings it in, and sets it up. You two help her of course. When everything is set up, Caitlyn goes to bake the cookies you guys made last night, Vi cleans up the tree mess (and hides the damage she made on the floors), and you start decorating the mantle.

– When your jobs are completed, you gather to decorate the tree together.

– Each year someone is assigned to put the star on top of the three. This year, it's your turn!

– Vi is a person who puts the star on before the tree is decorated while Caitlyn likes to do it last. As for you, you do whatever makes you happy.

– If you do it before, Vi cheers while Caitlyn recoils in playful disgust.

– If you do it after, Vi will try to coax you into putting the star on top but fails each time. When you finally put the star on the tree, Caitlyn sighs out of relief and takes a step back to admire the tree.

– More like a modern AU of things, VI LOVES HOME ALONE. One is her favorite, and the others are irrelevant to her.

– She wants to name a future child, or pet, Kevin, but you and Cait won't allow her.

– Naming someone, or something, that name puts them up for failure. You already have a rambunctious scamp named Vi, you don't need another named Kevin.

– As for presents, you guys like to do stockings, gift exchanges, and your own gift trade.

– In your household, one person is responsible for the other's stocking. Exp: you would have Cait's, Vi has you, and Cait has Vi,

– Though you guys try to keep it a secret, who had who is obvious. Caitlyn likes to gift thoughtful and useful gifts for the stocking stuffers, Vi just does whatever makes her laugh and what reminds her of y'all.

– One year, Caitlyn got a porcelain broken witch's shoe. The reason? The witch shoe reminds Vi of Caitlyn's heels and the broken part reminds Vi of the one time Cait stubbed her toe so hard that she misshaped the toe of her shoe.

– Vi laughed so hard she was redder than Santa's suit. Meanwhile, Caitlyn looked like she swapped faces with the Grinch.

– As for gift exchanges, Caitlyn's "uppy tighty rich" friends host a Christmas party each year.

– You three dominate the competition by bringing the best and worst gifts ever.

– The worst gifts are funnier ones, courtesy of Vi, and the better gifts you three brainstormed on and spent hours shopping for. (Sorry, Vi)

– Each year, the gifts are a hoot and Vi is thankful at least one of Caitlyn's friends knows how to season food.

– As for your own gifts, you each set a price range for individually bought gifts. This way, you can buy a partner a lot of cheaper gifts or one really big one.

– You three also set out separate times to go shopping in pairs to buy gifts.

– So, you and Vi would go shopping to get a shared gift for Caitlyn, the same with you and Cait for Vi, and then Vi and Caitlyn for you.

– The budget for those gifts is kinda all over the place, but you each have an idea of the price range because you know what the other gifts are.

– On the big day, you three start by changing into your matching PJs, if you haven't fallen asleep in them already, washing your faces together, and herding into the kitchen.

– In the kitchen, Vi is in charge of making breakfast pancakes. She's not in charge because she's good or anything, no. Instead, she's in charge because she tries to make the pancakes holiday-shaped but fails miserably.

– You and Caitlyn take joy in guessing what shape the pancake is supposed to be.

– You focus on the other aspects of breakfast like the meat, eggs, grits or rice, etc. Whatever you see fit, you make.

– This leaves Caitlyn to make the hot drinks which is more like an unspoken rule.

– When the three of you first moved in together, you and Vi would make Caitlyn's coffee for her because she had long nights and early mornings. This would be one thing to take off her morning list, right?

– WRONG.

– With each new attempt, the coffee always came out wrong to Caitlyn.

– At first, the mistakes made sense.

– "Vi, I'm chewing grounds in my coffee." "Darling, this is Earl Grey, not coffee."

– But once you and Vi got the hang of things, her reasons got nitpicky.

– "This roast isn't dark enough." "Too dark." "Is this decaf?" "Is this even the right brand of coffee?"

– Eventually, you and Vi studied her when she made her coffee and jolted the recipe down. But, even following her routine to the exact "T" wasn't good enough.

– – "You know what?" Vi huffed, tossing down the spoon she used to scoop the coffee beans. "I don't want to do this anymore. Day in and day out, we always get her 'order' wrong. I don't think it's worth the extra hour of getting up."

With a heavy sigh, you stare into the empty mug you held. Deep down, you knew Vi was right but you both agreed to take on the challenge and to one day give Caitlyn her perfect cup of joe. It couldn't be the end already...

It's only been a year and 36 days!

"Yeah," you said putting the mug back in the cupboard. "Maybe we're not good coffee makers, Vi." Vi slung her arm around your shoulders, grinning proudly.

"I'm fine with that, Muffin. Are you?"

Feeling some sort of accomplishment stir inside you, you nod and match her grin. "Yeah, actually. Like you said, we get an extra hour of sleep back."

45 minutes later, Caitlyn woke up to no coffee on her nightstand. Relief washed over her and she smiled after coming to. Finally, the war was over.

Caitlyn could make her coffee and have her mornings to herself before going to work.

Here's a little secret about Caitlyn: she didn't want you guys making her coffee in the first place. Her coffee was the one thing she had to control over on weekdays. She didn't want anyone else taking that from her. – –

– Since then, Caitlyn has been in charge of making her own coffee and other hot drinks on Christmas day.

– After eating breakfast and trying to guess the shapes of pancakes, you three gather in the living room and open up stockings.

– Of course, Caitlyn already has the fireplace on and Christmas music playing softly in the background.

– As for opening the actual gifts, Cait's the type to open them up carefully and precisely. Vi is as violent as Jinx when it comes to opening up her wrapped gifts.

– Vi likes to say, "No way!" or laugh really loudly when she gets a gift she wasn't expecting.

– Caitlyn's smile takes over her face, her eyes beaming. Her cheeks get pink as she realizes you and Vi pay more attention to her than she thought and then she says a sheepish "thank you".

– It happens every year and you wouldn't change it for the world.

– When you open your gifts, the girls cling onto each other and giggle when you open a gift they said you weren't getting.

– "HA! Bet you thought you weren't getting that, huh, Muffin?" "That is the right one, yes? We knew you wanted it for a while."

– If they ever remember to get a camera, they forget every year, they take pictures of your sweet face and cute cheeks when you open up your gifts.

– People's hearts and bodies typically warm up after having something hot, but Vi and Cait's warm at the sight of your smile and pure joy.

– Your essence and feeling is the only thing that can't be captured with a photograph, but Caitlyn and Vi are grateful to experience it first hand.

WC: 1,730

[montrealmadison]

in your palace warm, mighty king

okay i’ve recently found myself on angel tree tiktok. if you’re unfamiliar with the concept, basically, some stores will put out a tree around the holidays with gift tags for anonymous local kids, and people coming in to do their own shopping can take a tag off the tree and buy kids gifts off their wishlists for the store to pass off to them. (the linked video shows it in action!)

anyway this got me thinking about jack zimmermann at the beginning of his career. he has been fabulously wealthy and privileged for his whole life, but he’s only recently started earning a massive salary of his own and has no real idea of what to spend it on. he’s comfortable. he has a car and a nice apartment and an engagement ring hidden somewhere in said apartment. he knows he should probably donate to a worthwhile cause, but he hasn’t figured out what.

one day, though, bitty’s visiting for the weekend and comes to the store with him, and right there in the entryway, he just… stops. jack doesn’t notice and consequently almost runs him over with the cart.

“you alright? careful, eh?”

bitty does not respond, because he’s looking at the tree.

“bud?”

jack follows his gaze. it really doesn’t look like much. it’s fake, unlit, and has seen better days if the way it’s a little flattened on one side is anything to go by. there is an equally squashed-looking stuffed snowman sat on the floor next to it. it’s the kind of thing your eyes slide over easily, hurrying from one place to another. blink and you’ll miss it.

bitty isn’t blinking.

“lord, i haven’t seen one of these in years,” he says. his voice is soft. he still isn’t looking at jack. “do you know what it is?”

jack doesn’t, so bitty explains. and when they inch closer, jack sees that all the ornaments he thought were plain paper before are actually printed with ages, shoe sizes, requests for warm coats and toys and cute jeans and deodorant. here and there is a specific wish—a bluetooth speaker. a particular board game. one kid, age eight, is fervently hoping for a bike.

and—okay. here’s the thing. they’ve been together for more than a year, and bitty is pretty willing to go along with jack’s desire to spoil him. but although he’s so open and accepting when jack wants to kiss him, or cook dinner for a change, or lay him out on their bed and make him feel good—he will always, always get uncomfortable where significant amounts of money are involved. it was the subject of the one and only fight that sent them to bed still heated. the fundamental difference between their upbringings is the hardest for them to grasp: jack has never known a life without plenty. and bitty—

“i think my parents put me on one,” bitty says. “the year we moved back to madison, after—”

the closet looms between them, black and yawning.

“well. you know. coach had to leave a good job in lawrenceville. took us a while to get back on our feet, i think. and that year, they couldn’t—i mean, i heard them talking at night about how we might not be able to make christmas work, when they thought i couldn’t hear them. but i still wrote my letter to santa, and there were a couple presents when i woke up christmas morning, so.” he scuffs one shoe on the industrial carpet. “maybe an angel sent ‘em.”

the words make something sizzle down jack’s spine and settle low in his gut. he steps forward, reaches out, turns over the nearest tag.

boy, age 11. shoe size: 8. wishlist: sneakers, earbuds, basketball, patriots merch, chapter books. loves fantasy and mythology.

once upon a time, jack spent three months in a rehab center designed specifically for the privacy needs of celebrity clients. his parents footed the bill, had the windows on all their cars tinted for him to hide behind when he got out. at the same time, thousands of miles away, bitty sat at the top of the stairs in his parents’ house and listened to them wonder if they could afford to keep the magic of christmas alive another year.

people are stepping around them to get out of the cold, now, their eyes skipping right over the tree and the boys in front of it. once upon a time, strangers on the street picked apart jack’s overdose like a piece of tabloid gossip. strangers on the street made sure a thirteen-year-old kid had something to unwrap with his family on christmas morning.

“bits?”

bitty sniffles, swipes at one eye with the sleeve of his sweater. “yeah?”

jack lifts the tag gently off its branch, catches bitty’s gaze. bitty’s intake of breath is so sharp it’s audible over the music playing overhead. do you see what i see?

“what do you think? wanna go get us another cart?”

[caleohateclub]

My fav random details from TTC:

Chiron wears curlers in his tail

Artemis doesn't like when her hunters "Grow up" or "get too silly"

Grover got a black eye trying to help the hunters into their cabin.

The Hunters have a silver flag for CTF!

The Hunters have won CTF 56 times in a row

Grover camped outside the Hunters' cabin at night "Just to be near them."

All the Hunters' skin glow like they've been "taking showers in liquid moonlight"

Bianca's eyes vaguely remind Percy of someone famous but he couldn't think of who

Percy was gonna give Poseidon a seashell patterned tie for fathers day

Percy was planning on using riptide to write Christmas cards

Anytime Percy is near a beach, hippocampi will ask him to help them with their problems

Percy can see the heat of living forms and the cold of the currents when he's deep underwater

Camp sells orange thermal underwear at the store

Luke's hair was pretty grey and his scar was an ugly red as if it had recently been re-opened

Percy has always been a pretty good pitcher (but he's not really a baseball guy)

"Many mortals will fight for any cause as long as they are paid"

Grover played "race car driver" when sitting in a Lamborghini

Percy had a "The White Stripes" CD that sally loved because they reminded her of Led Zeppelin

Apollo's fake name of choice is "Fred"

Percy got freaked out talking to Bianca when the thought of her looking 12 for years after he died came into his brain.

Bianca only felt comfortable leaving Nico at camp because she figured he would be safe if there were people like Percy there

Percy really liked talking to Bianca

Bianca, after finding out how long she'd been trapped in the Lotus Casino, checked her hands to make sure they weren't wrinkled

Bianca wanted to take a hair clip shaped like a moon that turned into a Hunter's bow she found

Percy found an electric guitar shaped like Apollo's lyre

Bianca's last words were "Get it to raise its foot!"

Zoe has ancient beef with naiads

Rachel's hair is "Reddish-Brownish"

Zoe got bored and started shooting arrows at billboards and Target store signs as she was flying

Zoe dressed Percy up in a ragged flannel shirt, jeans three sizes too big, bright red sneakers, and a floppy rainbow hat

As Percy was fighting Nereus, he waved to a crowd of tourists "Yeah, we do this every day here in San Francisco".

Percy wanted to ask Nereus about Annabeth because "that's what he cared about most"

The Ophiotaurus is 500 pounds

Dionysus's blessing cause the sun to be tinted with purple, and the air to smell like wine

A guard bit his gun like it was a sword and ran around on all fours like a dog

Percy was basically about to confess that he liked Annabeth on Olympus