#don’t even get me started on dior.

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

ARYAN. ARYAN SIMHADRI MY BELOVED.

[rayliakada]

Re reading Percy Jackson after the show is such a wild experience because now I read it and just picture Walker as Percy and all I can think is that he is going to absolutely kill it when some of the later books get adapted

[angelplummie]

getting baby trapped by 30s art……… i m unwell. after a messy divorce with tashi he found you, his kinder, softer, altogether more human younger girlfriend, and he can’t get enough. part of him craves tashis authority, but the other part of him relishes in being more than someone, older and stronger and wiser. he loves the way you make him feel, loves the way you dote on him and listen to him and take him in his entirety. loves the way you don’t play fucking tennis, you talk about other things, care about other things, fuck about other things. loves the way you lay down on your back for him and do as he says, even when he commands you in his soft, kind way. loves the way your eyes bead with tears as he pounds your tight young cunt and stares into your blistering face. he loves to stretch you open on his long cock and use you, use you for his pleasure until you cream and whimper, eat his seed from your sore, spasming cunt. he could fuck you however he wanted, and you adored him for it. in all his years he had never had so much sexual freedom, never been as totally and utterly fufilled. he loves how you thank him, for everything. with the newest dior hanging from your arm, you thank him. with his cum still on your tongue and bleary eyes, you thank him. he loves so much about you he’s starting to think he loves you. he loves you. you’re everything he needs after all that transpired with tashi, he needs someone loving and open. he wants you forever. but you’re so young. you could change, it could all go away so quickly. he needs a way to keep you, to make sure you always look at him with stars in your eyes, make sure you need him as much as he needs you. so slowly, he begins hiding your birth control. not very well, if you really wanted to find it you would have. but you didn’t. and you won’t.

“art,” you sigh as your wonderful boyfriend kisses your neck. you lay on his white sofa together, legs interlocked, pressing into every part of each other.

“art,” you sigh again, his hands palming your breast over your thin cami,”art, i forgot to take my pill. i couldn’t find my pill.”

“hmm,” he moans into your neck, grinding his hips into your thigh.

“art we can’t.”

“i want you.”

you giggle, and let him push away your top, and take your soft nipple into his mouth until it hardened, and deep in your core you felt a furling, peeling pleasure.

“i’m ovulating,” you breathe,”im gonna get pregnant.”

he groans, rock hard dick straining against his shorts, against your supple thigh. his hands roam over your torso and with kitten licks he flicks your nipple. you expel a soft breath, fingers carding through the blonde, tousled hair you suggested he grew out. you were making him young again.

“i want you. i’ll get a condom in a second.”

he’s lying. hes a liar and a bad bad man and he knows it. but he can’t care. you mewl once more about ovulating, but your fingers comb through his hair, and your chest heaves and your eyes flutter shut as he sucks and licks and paws at your tits, humping your thigh with his achingly hard cock.

“i’m… art… pregnant…” you whine half heartedly, but it only makes him sigh deeper, and he imagines the day that you’ll tell him that in complete sentences. would you be teary eyed? would you need convincing? or would you give yourself to him like he felt you would? only time would tell.

“shhhh.”

you twitched, spine arching and pushing yourself further into his mouth.

“i’m gonna grab a condom any second,” he murmured, “i want you now.”

“you have me now.”

he moves up your body and presses his lips to yours, large hand ghosting your jaw. you close your lips against each others, and open again to touch lip to tongue and tongue to tooth, to taste and to breathe each other. he tastes like sweet nothing, like air and cleanliness and summer. you taste like honey to him. your fingers tuck his hair behind his peach fuzzed ear delicately, and you breathe against each others upper lip. his nose mushes against yours and he flicks his tongue at your gums and lips. it deepens, and he toes the line between lavishing you in affection and trying to eat you lips first. it’s hungry and wet, and you forget where his mouth begins and yours ends, all becoming blurred in the spit and the heat of it.

he pulls away, with a spit string connecting your two puffy lips. his eyes twinkle in the dim light that can reach them in your tight embrace.

“why don’t you take off your panties?”

and he leant away, the warmth of his body leaving you burning in its absence. he sat, perched, watching you from above. he looked down his nose at you with a smile, so genuine and yet so condescending. so soft and nurturing, like you needed to be guided and taken care of. that him seeing you naked and feeling your insides and making you stupid and small was what you needed, was how he had to take care of you. it was times like this that you thought about the age difference, when he made you so aware that he could make you want to do anything, anything if it was just to please him. a special ability only he had over you, and if he has his way you would feel it forever. you scramble to be more upright, to rest on your elbows and lift your hips far enough that your reaching fingers could pull down your cotton panties. you writhed beneath him to reveal yourself, nipples peaking from your cami as he watched you fully clothed, in his white shirt and loose pyjama shorts. his hair was ruffled, this way and that, and he looked more collected than he ever had.

shed of your tiny covering, the orange glow of the living room light reflecting off the wetness that was smeared to your inner thigh. from under your lashes u stare up at him, the way his shirt clings involuntarily to the tightness of his core and to his broad shoulders, the way his blonde eyelashes flutter at the sight of your thighs, your hips, your tits, all the parts of you that spill over with softness. your lips part slightly, and in silence you forget what he wants you to forget and beg him to have his way with you.

he was pulled to you once more like a magnet, and you instinctively bent your knees up and spread your legs to receive his torso and hips. he took the bends of your knees in each hand and folded you up so that your ankles hung by his shoulders, bouncing in the air as the sofa gave way for his weight. he knelt above you for just a moment, just a tortuous moment before bending down, sliding his body back so his face could remain above your hot pussy.

with an untroubled drop of the wrist, your legs fell to his shoulders, sprawled on his back. the innermost part of your thighs pressed lightly to his ear, and your heels rested lightly on his back.

with his head situated mere inches from your hot throbbing hole, he took the opportunity to take his time. while he had you in the palm of his hand he made you suffer for it, kissing the tender flesh that shined with the mess he had made for you.

every touch was torture, and he knew what he was doing. his eyes never left your face, the ghost of a smile across his lips whenever they were not eclipsed by the fat of your thighs. your eyes never left his face either, and you watched him breathlessly. he licks a stripe of skin against the grain of your leg hair, and you make a sound like you’re crying.

“oh,” you whisper, “please.”

he hums, laughing. the air from his nose hits your folds and you twitch.

“ok,” he’s soft, controlled, serene.

lips parted, he leans forward into your core, not for one second breaking eye contact with you as he takes your clit into his wet mouth. his pink tongue lathes it, up and down and up and down.

his fingers make sharp indents in your thigh to stop your wriggling, and he forces your ass into his chest. he cranes his neck to eat you deeper, and you cry out, tears beading in your eyes. sucking brutally, he moans into your hole.

“fuck,” you fist the cushion beside you, gathering the fabric and ungathering it,”fuck.”

he eats your pussy like it’s your mouth, makes out with it, makes love to it. he seems to take you in your entirety into his mouth, making you all wet with him, covered and soaked. he reaches up slowly, taking your hand in his, and squeezes it softly. your fingers are tight, paralysed in his hold. the pressure his hand provides gets rid of your compulsive need to squeeze, pacifies you, makes you dumb and limp. you lie back, no longer watching his eyes trained on you, your mouth hanging open and your eyes fluttering closed. you moan involuntarily, unaware at all that you’re alive, that you haven’t died and gone to heaven.

his thumb rubs soft circles on the back of your hand in time with his mouthing, the swirl of his tongue and the rhythmic closing of his mouth. you taste like honey here too, like nectar and sugar and love. your ankles lock together and unlock on his back, and the mere feeling of that sends chills down his whole body.

suddenly he stops. he lays a final fat kiss on your clit, watching as you mewl and your tight, ready hole gushes. he pulls away with your puppy fat legs still hugging side burns and jaw. gently he rises and slips out of your leggy grasp, fingers still interlocked with yours. he wants to kiss you. you are so pathetic when he has his way with you, so passive and pliable. he wants to hurt you because you would let him, but infinitely more and for the exact same reason he wants only to look after you. to make you happy and full and rewarded for your eternal beauty, inside and out.

he wanted to kiss you, and so he did. he leaned over, still completely dressed, and draped his slender, finely chiselled body over yours. it even made him light headed to think about being close to you, to your body, not hardened by the dedication that destroyed him, left soft and unscarred, left without taint. his underbelly of tenderness was your everywhere. you were the rounding to his shoulders, the layer of fat that kept him in warm in winter.

you collided without friction, his wet lips gliding over yours in a dance of want. your legs were still under his control, and as such you were spread beneath him. your knees dangled by his sides, leaving your pussy wide open to leave sloppy kisses on his shorts. you kissed back with the same ferocity. despite your implicit submission, you wanted to consume him as much as he wanted to consume you, if not more. you gave him what he wanted because you wanted to give it to him. wanted to give him everything he would receive.

you gave him your tongue, which he accepted with a grin.

you gave him coiling fingers that grasped the fabric on his back desperately, which he took for momentum. he rolled forward on top of you, deepening the hold his mouth had on yours.

you gave him moans, whimpers from a wavering throat which he took for courage.

“im so hard for you,” you felt the reverberation of his voice in your very core, and you died a sweet death,”i’m gonna put it in.”

“uh huh.”

success. you had forgotten. he laughed, mischievously, and a smile settled into the curves of his face.

all you heard was the snap of elastic, the rustle of fabric and the dulled slap of arts heavy cock against his t-shirt.

all you saw was his pupils grow until his eyes appeared black, like an animal’s, looking at you so directly you felt he saw you deeper than skin, deeper than meat or bone. you felt utterly seen, and utterly loved. you met his gaze pleadingly, eyebrows quirking up in the centre and lips pouting. please, it told him, please my love.

“you want it?” he breathed. pre cum smeared the fat tip, his balls hung low out of his shorts that gathered at his middle thigh. it was so big. long and fat and filling. so big and so pretty, so big and pretty it was all you could do not to cry.

“i want it art,” you replied, voice clipped and cheeks burning,”i want you.”

“yeah?”

he touched your face, from your jaw to the temple. he didn’t even try to kiss you. he just held your face. he was gentle, gentle, gentle as ever. his every action was kind. you love him. you’re in love with him.

“i want you art. i love you.”

and that was that. he was getting you pregnant tonight. someone would have to pry him off of you, because so help him god he would drain himself dry in your hot wet cunt if it was the last thing he ever did.

you squealed as he pushed the entirety of his cock in, bulbous head stretching your cunt wider than any cock had stretched it before. but it slipped in so easily with the outpour of your sticky love. it made a thick squelch, and he groaned so loud, squeezed his eyes shut so hard, you might’ve thought he was being tortured.

“fuck!”

the force of his thrust had caused the thick juices of you arousal to spread around his thick cock where he stretched you out, the pain minimal, familiar and intoxicating.

you throbbed in unison, blood coursing through where you connected. you were so tight and hot, so fucking wet. art struggled, arms bracing either side of your shoulders, to force the rest of himself into you. he also struggled to think, to be a human and not a ploughing, panting, thoughtless dog.

a moan rose through your throat, broke from you involuntarily, came out like the sound of murder. your taut pussy suckled his fat dick with every pulse and quiver. you felt him so deep inside you, and he fought to push deeper. fingers still locked, his crushed your knuckles and your palm.

“oh my fucking god.”

it could’ve been either one of you, because you both meant to say it. this moment of stillness and feeling waited one more second, before art became beast, and drew back his hips so that only his pink tip stayed gripped inside. you felt so soul crushingly empty, until he drove himself back in, and you were brought back to life.

“god,” he pounded any thoughts away, any and all of them, until all you could do was breath and blaspheme, “fucking- christ.”

the buttery, fevered roll of his hips was one he was in no control of. he felt as though he was being moved by some godly force to cram your tight cunt full of him. his jaw hung open, and the hand that didn’t hold yours instead held your shoulder, dwarfing in it in his wide palm. holding onto you for sanity, his eyes opened to take in what he had done to you.

“you’re so tight. perfect. perfect. perfect.”

“i love you.”

“i love you. i love you. please god.”

what was he asking for? was he asking you or god? you would do it for him, regardless. you would do it.

your hand reached into his hair, and tugged hard. a whorish moan left his lips, the rolling of his lower half stuttering as his neck arched up. his knees were spread wide, digging deeply into his sofa. his pelvis moved on its own, smoothly, as if he had reverted to his baser instincts and let years of evolution take its course, nature guiding him to your inevitable impregnation.

you were as he liked you, completely dumb. he was too gone to enjoy it, but on another planet of pleasure entirely. he couldn’t relish in the feeling of control, but he could in the feeling of you, of having you, being loved by and loving you. the suckling heat of you was more than a man could take, and the picture beneath him was no more comprehensible.

your angel lips spread to a glistening tongue, your eyes glassy and dilated, your brow creased, hair mussed. he had to have that too, and so he kissed you once more. the hand on his hair tightened, and he moaned into your mouth.

he pumped your pussy so deep, pre cum was dashed from his oozing tip inside you, heavy balls slapping at your skin. you were so wet you didn’t notice, only felt the heat and the mind numbing ecstasy. the feeling of being pounded like a piece of meat till your tight girl pussy remembered every vein his grown man dick, but kissed like a lover and held like a princess pushed you that much closer, sent you that little bit more over the edge. you needed it. you needed him to cum. to please your daddy.

“i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna cum inside you.”

“fucking do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. get me fucking pregnant art.”

that was all he needed. he breathed into your lips and cried out, long steady body shuddering like a leaf. he held you close, pressing his weight on top of your till he could feel the fat of your breasts move around his chest. cum, thick and milky white, shot deep into your cunt, which even now gripped him tighter than ever. so much of it too. his meaty balls tweaked as their contents leaked into where they were always supposed to go.

your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, parting your lips in a silent scream.

his cock had not moved an inch from where it rested fully buried in your pussy. it was wet. it would spill out once he removed himself. it needed to stay inside.

he pressed his forehead to yours, your eyes fluttering closed from exhaustion and contentedness. you didn’t even think about what art had just done. you didn’t even realise he had done anything. he was just doing what you needed him to do.

you needed him. forever.

[sashaisready]

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes. 

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now. 

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was. 

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence. 

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with. 

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes! 

And he did. 

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them. 

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion. 

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it. 

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today. 

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring. 

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall. 

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later. 

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street. 

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress. 

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable. 

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone. 

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone. 

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough. 

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really. 

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore. 

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still. 

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming. 

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home. 

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet. 

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life. 

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be. 

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved. 

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did. 

You just wished you weren’t always right. 

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time. 

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked. 

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them. 

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier. 

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward. 

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear. 

But it would do for now. 

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up. 

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor. 

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private. 

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have. 

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight. 

And you slept. And slept. 

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t. 

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did. 

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve. 

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

[seren1tyhaze]

Unconditional

PAIRING: jaehyun x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 1.9k

SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx

WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing

PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend

--

--

“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”

Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.

“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.

You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.

Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.

Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”

“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”

Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.

Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.

“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”

“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.

“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.

A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.

“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.

Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.

The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.

“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.

“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.

You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.

That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.

“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.

You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.

“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”

“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.

You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.

“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.

“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.

“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.

“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.

“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.

Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.

“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.

“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.

“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.

“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.

“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.

You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.

“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.

You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.

You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.

You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.

He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.

“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.

When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.

“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.

“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.

“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.

He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.

[star-girl69]

In A Good Way

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: basically episode two but if clarisse had a gf (so what should have been canon pretty much)

a/n: sorry dior is so fine i had to get the thoughts out this is kinda shitty also but anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

In A Good Way - Faye Webster

warnings: some violence, swearing, soft and ooc clarisse but only bc i wholeheartedly believe she is soft only for her gf and i love soft clarisse, also protective!clarisse my weakness, i’m insane, cringe, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You watch Clarisse bump into the poor boy.

You’re sitting with your siblings, Tyla and Jackie, but your eyes were drawn to her even across the courtyard. Your eyes are always drawn to her.

She shoulders him hard, then immediately turns around and pushes him straight to the ground. Tyla gasps next to you as he crashes sharply into the dirt.

“Your girlfriend is a literal menace, Y/N,” Jackie scoffs.

“How do you think I feel having to deal with her?”

You really do feel bad for the boy, Percy, you think. Regardless of whether or not he really killed the Minotaur (Clar spent the entire night talking your ear off about how it simply can’t be true) it’s his first day at camp. He’s helpless, to say the least.

Feeling less than your whole life and then finally coming to a place where everyone else is like you, finally getting answers- it’s a shock.

You always feel bad for every new camper. Especially the young and tiny ones like him. Besides, you like his cute blonde hair.

“Oh, haha,” Jackie rolls her eyes. “You love her.”

You start to get up, faking a dramatic sigh, “I do.”

Tyla giggles as you walk away and come into earshot.

“Hey. Knock it off, Clarisse. It’s like his first day, come on.” Luke seems as unimpressed as he always does, slightly apathetic, as another Hermes cabin member tugs Percy up.

“Wait, so, this is the kid who killed the Minotaur. Is that right?” she takes a step forward, a misleading smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Percy says, awkwardly looking around.

“I’ll bet,” she smiles, her eyes lighting up in prospect of someone new to torture. “Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes.”

Her eyes meet yours.

“Clarisse!” you say in a sing-song voice, walking up to her and placing your hand on her shoulder. “He’s, like, twelve.”

“Oh, but he’s strong enough to kill a Minotaur?”

Your eyes lock, her hand brushes your hip, and you get those same cliche butterflies in your stomach you always do when you look at her.

You smile.

You see her eyes soften.

She turns back to Percy after a moment, faking forward, and he flinches so hard he almost falls back.

Her and her Ares siblings laugh, you roll your eyes, and push her away. She walks away, her siblings in tow, and you turn back to Luke.

On Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth’s last stretch to camp, they came across you. Your satyr protector had been killed by a monster protecting you, and Luke had held your hand and promised that all of you were going to make it to camp.

You’ll always have that bond with Luke, even though Clar hates his guts and his best swordsman in camp title.

You place your arm on his shoulder, he slings a loose arm around your waist.

Luke is pretty much the only person who can get away with touching you like this, or else they’ll receive a nice message from Clarisse in the form of a dagger barely missing their face.

“Ares kids,” Luke explains to Percy. “They come by it honestly. You got lucky today. If Y/N hadn’t come around, you probably would have gotten knocked over again.”

“Hi,” you say, sticking out your hand. “I’m Y/N.” Percy shakes your hand, smiling awkwardly.

“She’s Clarisse’s girlfriend and the only thing that stands between the camp and total destruction.”

“Oh,” Percy says, not quite able to hide his surprise and slight disgust. “She seems… nice.”

“Well, if you look like me, she’ll love you. But… I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Percy chuckles a bit.

“Why don’t they bother you?” he asks Luke.

“Ah, they know better,” he says, squeezing you closer to him.

“Yeah, Luke’s the best swordsman in camp,” one of Luke’s siblings says. You can see something in Percy’s eyes, a light that reminds you a bit of Clar.

“So, they stay away from you because, glory? So, if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either?”

“Exactly,” Luke affirms. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. What the Hades is he teaching him?

“And people think I’m a big deal?”

“Well, sorta-”

“And my dad’s got no choice but to claim me.”

Oh. Your heart squeezes for him.

“You… you can’t force the Gods to do anything,” Luke says, trying not to hurt Percy too much.

“Well, yeah, but… it would make it a lot harder for him to pretend I don’t exist, right?”

“Maybe,” Luke concedes.

“Great. Where do we start?”

You laugh. “Ooh, I like the way you think.” You slip away from Luke, smiling at Percy. “Come find me if you wanna try your hand at some Aphrodite skills.”

—-

You find Clarisse sitting outside her cabin at a picnic table, polishing her spear, her favorite activity.

You sit down next to her.

“Hey, baby,” she murmurs, a bit too entranced with the gift from her father.

“I only have a few minutes before I go to archery, but… I think you’ll enjoy this.” She looks over at you for a second, then right back to the spear. “Don’t make me charmspeak you, La Rue.”

“Okay. Okay, sorry, what?” she sets the spear down in her lap, staring up at you with a smile as if she hadn’t been ignoring you a second ago.

“Percy Jackson wants to find glory so you’ll stop bothering him,” she snorts, “and so his father will have to claim him.”

She hums.

“Well, I like him. I think he’s cute.”

She shoots you a bored look.

“Don’t say horrible things like that.”

You play with a curl hanging over her shoulder. “We both know I’ll say whatever I want.”

“Oh, I know.”

—-

“What happened to you?”

You turn to look at Clarisse’s smirking face.

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “C’mere,”

You lean forward, across the space between the Aphrodite cabin and the Ares cabin tables. Clarisse puts her hand to your face, thumb tracing along your cheekbone. She pulls back, and you stare at her dirt covered thumb.

“You’re covered in dirt, gorgeous.”

You hurriedly raise your hand up to your face, groaning when your palm does in fact come away covered in dirt.

“Percy is definitely not a child of Apollo,” you mutter.

“What d’you mean?” Clarisse asks, handing you a few extra napkins as you begin to wipe off your face, a spot on your shirt you had noticed.

“Luke’s taking him around, trying to figure out what he’s got a talent for. It was funny, actually, he shot the arrow over all of us on the side and we all went crashing into the ground.”

She doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you do.

“It was an accident, Clar!” you say, all sing-song again.

“Oh, I’m sure it was. Exactly why I don’t believe he killed that Minotaur.”

“Adrenaline makes even mortals do crazy things.”

“You don’t kill a Minotaur with adrenaline,” she hisses.

—-

Capture the Flag is held the next day. Clarisse and two of her siblings have been particularly pissed off all morning, and no matter how much you bug her, she only says “you’ll see” in this horribly nerve-wracking tone.

You have the same job you do every game. Sit in front of the flag, and charmspeak anyone who tries to come near it.

You’re decent with a bow, okay with a sword, but this is one area where you really shine, where you can really help.

After the first game, the blue team has learned to wear ear plugs when they come near you. But you’re like a siren, you come around and take out their ear plugs anyways. They’re scared to touch you, because one of the Ares kids will run right off to Clarisse, and she tells you all the time that she’d rather lose dessert privileges for a month then see you with one scratch.

Chiron stands imposingly on the large rock at the start of the small river that divides the two halves of the woods.

“The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor.”

You know these rules by heart.

Ever since your first Game, the day you met Clarisse, you’ve loved them. You’re not the most violent person, nothing near Clar and her insatiable thirst for competition, but there’s just something about the game.

She walks forward through the sea of red-marked armor, digging her spear into the ground and glaring at what you can only assume to be Percy Jackson.

“Any magical items you may possess are permitted as well. Every camper who is not injured has to play. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged.”

You suppress a laugh at that rule. That one was only implemented a few games ago, right after the one where you had been taken prisoner and tied with vines to a tree. When Clar had heard, she actually almost murdered a few kids and maimed some more.

Although it made keeping prisoners a little awkward, Chiron had proclaimed it was in everyone’s best interests.

“Let the games begin!” he shouts, the conch blows, and the entire team screams in a terrifying war cry.

The blue team bangs their shields and weapons together, and now you have 20 minutes before game on.

Clarisse is the captain of your team, of course. She marches around barking orders to everyone, as if their positions aren’t already drilled into their heads.

“Hey Clar,” you say. You’re surrounded by a few Ares kids, a few other good fighters, ready to protect the flag and by extension you- with their lives.

Capture the flag games are taken seriously.

She looks at the red flag in your hands, smiling in that smug way she always does. She doesn’t smile this way when it’s just you and her, but you can still see the softness in her eyes even now. With Clarisse, her emotions are all about the eyes.

“You all know what you’re doing?” she asks. All the kids behind you nod. “Good,” she smirks, starting to walk away.

“Are you hunting in your usual woods today?” you ask, heading in the same direction as her.

She smiles, a full toothy grin.

“Oh, baby, I have something even better planned.”

Clarisse is not one to change the strategy.

You can’t get it out of your head what she’s been saying about Percy.

“If you kill someone, I’m killing you.”

She just smiles.

—-

One of the kids holds the flag from up on a rock, acting like a lookout. You lean against that rock, your armor digging into your thighs at the awkward angle, waiting for someone to come. Everyone else surrounds you in the flag, in battle stances.

The conch blew about 20 minutes ago, and you should be seeing someone soon.

“I think Luke’s coming,” Corey, the Apollo kid lookout says.

“Of course he is,” you mutter. He’s always in charge of getting the flag, because he’s not afraid to touch you. Clarisse knows he’s just your friend, or else he probably would have been dead by now. They emerge from the woods, not bothering to try for stealth, all in defensive positions.

Everyone lets you take the lead. You understand why Clarisse loves power. It’s addicting, it’s like lightening in your veins.

“Hi, Luke,” you smile.

He can’t hear you, but he returns the smile.

“You’re all going to turn around and walk 300 feet in the other direction.”

Luke sighs as one of the kids actually turns and walks away, heeding your command. Everyone else has their earplugs in tight, but it always gets one or two of them.

You roll your eyes. “You always make this so difficult, Luke.”

You walk towards him, maybe you can surprise him and rip the ear plugs out of your ear, but he suddenly springs his leg out so you trip, slamming into the ground and getting a face full of dirt.

“Bitch,” you mumble, ready to get up. Suddenly, a Hermes girl throws herself on top of you, slapping a hand over your mouth.

As soon as you hit the ground, the fight erupts around you.

“You can’t do this, Luke, it’s against the rules!” you screech, but it’s muffled through the girls thick leather gloves.

Matty, one of Clar’s siblings sighs heavily. “Fuckin’ hate this dude,” he mumbles. “Marjorie, go get Clarisse.”

The girl runs off, and Matty adjusts his helmet.

“Don’t know why you do this to yourself, man.”

Luke kneels down in front of you while you scream obscenities next to his name. He makes a big show of taking out his earplugs before ruffling your hair.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He whips around and his sword immediately clashes with Matty’s, and they’re locked in a flurry of metal clashing and glinting in the sunlight. Matty is really good, probably bested only by Clarisse, but Luke is still the best swordsman in camp.

He puts up a valiant fight, but Luke disarms him.

Your back is really, really starting to hurt like this.

It’s whirlwind, but there were more blue team then red team, and sometimes sheer number beats out even the best of the Ares cabin.

They grab the flag and run for the beach.

The girl waits for another moment until one of the Ares kids points his sword at her.

“You’re really gonna want to let her go,” Matty says. She stands up and books it, following her team.

“Eat dirt!” you scream as she runs away, but she still has her earplugs in.

Matty helps you up.

“Clarisse’s gonna kill us all.”

“I hate Luke Castellan. I hate him, I hate him, I wish him nothing but pain and suffering.”

Matty claps your shoulder.

“Hey, at least we all get to watch Clarisse beat up the Hermes cabin at sword practice tomorrow.”

And you do like seeing Clar fight, the way she’s so focused and truly in her element, sweat making her skin glisten in the sunlight…

“That will be fun,” you concede. Matty laughs, and you all make your way down to the beach.

—-

The scream scares you.

All the kids around you jump up with their swords, thinking a monster had somehow made its way near camp, but you recognize that voice.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, feeling frozen.

“What?” Matty asks, his eyes scanning the forest. “What’d you say?”

“Clarisse,” you repeat, breaking off into a run towards the sound of it, towards the beach.

“Clar- wait, Y/N!”

But you’re already long gone.

—-

You make it to the beach a minute after the conch sounded, the blue team having won, making it just in time to see the blue trident appear over Percy’s head. You can barely even register the fact that he’s a forbidden child, your eyes immediately finding Clar’s siblings, the ones she was supposed to be hunting with today.

“Hey, hey,” you breathe out, almost slamming into one of them. “W-where’s Clarisse? I heard her scream-”

You love her so much it’s like your heart will break if you even think about her being hurt. It always seems like Clar is the one who loves you more, only because of her proud and overprotective nature, but really you love her just as much.

You just never have the opportunity to threaten to kill someone like she does for you. She does that all on her own.

“Oh, uh, she went that way,” he points in the direction of a barely there path, heading into the woods and back to camp.

“Great, thanks!” you shout, already running after her.

You catch up with her after a minute, your gaze landing on her practically stomping through the woods. She’s angry. She’s angry, why?

“Clar!” you shout, and she whips around, standing still while you sprint over to her. “Clarisse, Clarisse, are you hurt? I-I heard you scream-”

You run your hands up and down her arms, and after a tense second of her staring at the ground, she puts her hands on your hips.

“I’m not hurt, I’m fine.”

She looks like she’s about to cry. But you know she won’t ever let herself cry, won’t ever let herself be perceived as weak.

You wrap your arms and let her put her face in your neck. She’s almost shaking with how angry she is, her fingers digging into your hips, and she stops herself and lets go before she can hurt you.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur. You’re not sure what happened. But she screamed like that, not like she was scared, but like she had just lost something. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She says into your neck, simple, and you respect it.

“Okay, well, let’s go back to your cabin. You’re not gonna believe the day I had. Will it make you happy to know I give you permission to beat up Luke?”

She looks up at you with skeptical eyes. You both ignore the tears staining her cheeks. “Really?” she asks, slightly hopeful, even through all her anger and sadness.

“Come on,” you smile, letting go of her and sliding you hand into hers. She meets your pace and wraps her arm around your waist. She doesn’t tell you she loves you, but you know.

—-

You flop down onto Clar’s bed. As the head counselor, she gets the best bunk. On the second floor loft, where there’s only enough space for single beds, meaning she doesn’t have to deal with bunk beds, all the way in the corner for a little privacy.

She stands in front of you, slipping off her shoes, and your reach forward to work at the knots of her breastplate.

She stares at you until the armor is lose around her, and she lifts it up over her head and leaves it haphazardly on the ground.

You lay flat, stretching your aching back, and Clar leans over you to help you take off your armor. You probably don’t even need armor, but Clarisse is overprotective by nature, by blood. It makes her feel better, and it really doesn’t bother you much. She lifts it over your head, letting the metal crash into the floor before laying down next to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m supposed to be here for you but I’m so tired, and my back hurts so bad…”

She laughs. You smile, and it falls into comfortable silence.

“Can I really beat up Luke?” she says after a second.

You open your eyes and she’s laying on her side, propped up her arm and staring at you.

“Oh, you can.”

“Why?” she asks, still not quite believing you.

“Okay, so, Luke comes over, right. And you know, I try to charmspeak them but only one of them goes. I walk over to Luke and he fucking trips me! It was so embarrassing, baby, I literally ate shit.”

She smiles and puts her arm around your waist, tugging you closer to her.

“Then, some girl tackles me before I can get up, and puts her hand over my mouth so I can’t do anything. Which first of all, is completely against the rules, and second of all, it really hurt my back! Then, then, Luke has the audacity to say ‘Oh, thanks Y/N!’ and ruffles my hair, like? I swear to Gods, I just want him to… well, I don’t know. Suffer.”

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” she mutters into the top of your head. “I’ll make sure he’s unrecognizable.”

You smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Clarisse. Who would defend my honor and fight my battles?”

She seems sort of placid, tired, like she’s just a still lake reacting to your body wading in deeper. It’s almost like she’s gonna fall asleep, and she’s always tired after capture the flag, so it’s not unusual.

“I’d be there,” she mutters, her eyes closed.

You’re both silent for a few more minutes, just the two of you together, her strong arm around you, the way it’s always meant to be.

“He’s a son of Poseidon. Did you see?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I saw.”

“It’s not fair,” she says, like the child she never got to be. “I spend so much time, so much time trying to make him proud- it took months for him to claim me and he gets claimed on, what, his third day?”

Her head lands on your chest, your hands smoothing down her hair.

She touches the necklace she gave you months ago, bringing it out from under your shirt, the simple chain with the pretty charm that looks like a spear. More so an arrow, but it’s supposed to be her spear.

“He broke it,” she whispers.

“Broke what?”

She sits up a little higher, her hands reaching behind you and undoing the clasp on your necklace. You haven’t even taken it off since she put it on you, so of course she would be the one to take it off.

“He broke my spear.”

“Oh, Clarisse…” she stares at the necklace before folding it up tightly in her palm. She breathes out as she lays back down on your chest, her legs entwining with yours, your hand back in her curls.

“The Hephaestus kids can fix it, but it won’t be electrical anymore.”

You don’t say anything. Most people would say “it’s better than nothing” but you’re demigods with absent divine parents.

Clarisse didn’t tell you it was better than nothing to at least be claimed by Aphrodite when one of your siblings got a magic item from her. She didn’t try and tell you “maybe someday” when you cried in her arms.

Because more often then not, you’ll die before your godly parent even claims you. More kids die on their way to Camp Half-Blood then Chiron would like to admit.

And what would the Gods do? Nothing. They would do nothing about it, because they don’t care.

Clarisse doesn’t cry, but you know she wants to, and you let her know that she can cry if she wants to. She can, if she has to. You’d never turn her away.

If she hasn’t realized already, you’re in this for the long run.

—-

Clarisse fell asleep in your arms, then pulled you back when you tried to go back to your own cabin, and you figured Chiron wouldn’t mind this once.

She finally let you go after you screamed that she couldn’t kiss you before you brushed your teeth, mumbling about how you’re depriving her.

When you meet up with her again, she has her sword in hand and her armor strapped tight to her body.

It was just a great big coincidence that the Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares and Demeter cabins all had sword practice at the same times. Clarisse looked all too happy at being able to get out some anger from yesterday, because sparring is the only way Clar has to work out the intense feelings she inherited from her father.

“So, who should I metaphorically kill?”

“Ooh, big word,” you tease. She grabs your chin, making you look at her, but she’s smiling too much for it to be a threat.

“C’mon, baby, who?”

“Luke. And…” you point, “That’s the girl who tackled me. Oh, and that’s the boy who fought Corey and got the flag. I don’t know his name.”

“‘Cause he’s irrelevant,” she says. You hum. “You just wait right here, gorgeous, enjoy the show.” She winks before sauntering off in the girls direction, smiling in that misleading way, asking her if she wants to spar.

You beckon Jackie and Tyla over to you, who both seem unimpressed.

“Please don’t tell me you put Clarisse up to attacking the Hermes cabin,” Tyla sighs.

“I didn’t put her up to anything. She did it all on her own.”

“Oh, sure she did,” Jackie rolls her eyes.

“Don’t act like you all aren’t gonna enjoy it.”

Tyla meets your eyes, then Jackie’s.

“Sorry, Jacks, it’s, like, really entertaining!”

You all laugh as Clar leads the girl into the circle, laughing even harder when she disarms her after a minute. The boy who took the flag barely lasts 45 seconds.

When Luke walks up to her, she throws her sword down and tackles him. You give her a minute before you pull her off.

—-

clarisse, about to beat up percy

y/n: oh no no no no you don’t

clarisse: ok i won’t kill him rn 😍😍😍😍

—-

y/n: yeah like idk what i would do without you who would protect me and fight my battles

clarisse “i would be there” la rue: bitch our love transcends the laws of physics I WOULD BE THERE

—-

y/n giggling and kicking her feet watching clarisse beat up luke

—-

[ashasdiary]

Lip Plumper + Head = …?

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

Synopsis: the one where Gojo discovers lip plumper…on his dick. Who needs tingly lube when you have lip plumper? 

CW: crack, a little fluff, sexual themes, smut - head, insinuations of cunnilingus WC: 1.6k A/N: Gojo come home I have all the brands of lip plumper just for you 😫 

The first time Gojo encountered lip plumper was when you’d kissed his cheek after a date in the infancy of your relationship. 

It had been a quick, little kiss and he’d been confused about the random tingling sensation he could feel on his cheek after he bid you goodbye and headed back home. In the end, he put it down to him being so in love with you that your energy could be felt even when he wasn’t in your presence. 

The second time Gojo encountered lip plumper was when he’d kissed you while you were getting ready. 

Gojo was sat on his bed, with you, toying with your make up products. 

As you’re busy blending your blush and looking into the hand mirror you were holding, he puts your strip lashes on his eyes — without glue — and flutters his eyes for you. “How’d I look?”

“Lovely,” you glance at him and laugh as they fall off onto the bed. 

“I often wonder how I’d look with dark hair and lashes,” he muses and you hum. 

“You’d still be hot, of course, but I love your white hair, it’s distinctive and beautiful,” you tell him honestly, still focused on the mirror you were holding while you’re fixing your brows. His heart warms from your sweet words and he puts your lashes back in their box. 

Leaning over to you, he embraces you and kisses your temple. “Distinctive and beautiful loves you.”

You smile to yourself and lean into his hold, “I love distinctive and beautiful back. Can you pick a gloss for me, please?”

“Hm…this one,” he says, pointing to your Dior Lip Maximiser. He liked the shade. 

“Great choice,” you grin and you pick it up and open it, applying it a couple of times, the tingling sensation being felt immediately. He watches you in wonder. 

“Your lips look so juicy right now,” he marvels at your lips and the how the plumping effect was making them rosy and full. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You laugh softly, “You don’t need to ask.”

He gently cradles your face as he leans in and kisses you longingly. Before he pulls away completely, he presses a few small pecks to your lips and smiles as he sits back. 

You start to put all of your products back in your make up bag, focused on tidying them away, when you hear him gasp, “What the heck? Why is it tingly?”

You look up to him hastily trying to wipe his lips, panicking. You purse your lips not to laugh at his hastiness, “Satoru, it’s the gloss, relax, it’s like that!” 

He’s trying to wipe it but obviously the plumper had already penetrated his lips, so he whines, “This shit hurts!”

“Will you please hold sti—”you start and he feigns being in pain, touching his lips and wincing. “So dramatic, my gosh…” You pour some micellar water for him on a cotton round and he quickly takes it and wipes his lips. You let out a small snort as you watch him tenderly touch his lips. A few minutes later, you’d found him looking in the mirror at his lips, in wonder.

The third time Gojo encounters lip plumper is when you had just gotten home with him from a wonderful dinner date.

He was looking handsome as always in his light blue button down and dark dress pants, a solid leather belt pulling it all together neatly, and his pretty hair tousled in the most perfect way. And by god, you were itching to take him in your mouth and taste him. 

Gojo was feeling the same with you, eager to please you, taste you, have you in all ways, but you were quicker in your advances and 69 wasn’t something you wanted in that moment because you wanted nothing more than to savour him. 

You both toe off your shoes by the door, and you suddenly crowd him against the wall in the hallway, feeling the heat rush through you as you sink to your knees in front of him. 

“I— sweetheart, fuck…—“ he begins but he trails off as he watches you unbuckle his belt, the delicious sound of the metal clinking together only adding to the wetness at your core. You deftly unbutton and unzip his pants, pulling them down a little. 

You’re greeted with the half hard bulge of him in his boxers and you salivate when you reach past the waistband and pull him out. You gaze up at him with those pretty doe eyes of yours, pumping him in your fist, biting your lip. 

He pushes down his pants and underwear so you have full access to him, and you smile wolfishly up at him as you stroke him some more, pulling a soft groan from his parted lips. 

You lean forward and run your thumb over the tip of him, over his slit, and you wrap your lips around him and suck gently, enjoying the taste of him, as if he were a popsicle. 

“Oh, baby…” he breathes, hand slipping into your hair in an instant. 

You tease the head of him with the tip of your tongue, gentle caresses on it before you’re taking more of the length of him into your mouth. 

He never once takes his eyes off you; it’s intoxicating watching how you’re enveloping him in your mouth. 

Desire, lust, and animalistic need swirls through his body and his blood rushes south to his throbbing cock as you suck on him slowly, taking your time with him. 

You’re in the midst of taking him all the way when he suddenly tenses up and stops you upon feeling the strange sensation of his dick tingling. “Wait, sweetheart— what the f—…baby, did you—“ he’s struggling for words, brows furrowed together as he looks down at your lips and notes the plump shine of them, “are you wearing that lip gloss again?”

You take him out of your mouth and give him a daring smile, eyes twinkling with mischief, “Mmhmm, the one you liked…thought I’d try something new. Think of it as…tingly lube,” you laugh a little and take him into your mouth again, making him hiss and bite his lip. 

After the initial confusion wore off, he quite liked the feeling of it on him. He made a mental note to take you to the Dior store to get some more of the lip product right after he finished making you come on his tongue. 

He leans against the wall, hips bucking slightly, involuntarily, against you as you suck on him more, taking him as deep as you could go. The lip plumper was making him feel things he’d never felt before. The tingling sensation was making precum leak from him and straight onto your waiting tongue where you eagerly lap it up. “Mmmph,” you hum around him, pumping the base of him while you bob your head. You loved having him in your mouth, loved tasting him. 

The taste of him on your tongue adds to your arousal and your other hand snakes down to your core, pushing your dress aside to rub circles over your clothed clit. 

“Takin’ me so good, pretty,” he croons, cupping your jaw, his dick twitching while he watches you touch yourself with his dick in your mouth. You bob your head a few more times and then he takes your face in his hands and holds you in place. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty face, hm?” He asks, eyes hooded and dark. 

You can only let out a half hum, half moan in response, bringing a hand to hold the back of his thigh as he starts to rock his hips against you, fucking your mouth. 

“Ah, fuck—“ he grits out as he thrusts faster, your warm, wet mouth feeling perfect around him. He moans your name when he sees the tears in your eyes as you take his mean thrusts. 

Your eyes screw shut, brows knitted together as you hold onto his thigh and relax your throat. “S-shit— that’s it, sweetheart…” he grunts, low sounds that rumbled through his chest, sounds which were like music to your ears. 

He hits the back of your throat and you gag a little, shuddering as he pulls away and allows you to breathe. Saliva coats your lips and his cock— whatever lip plumper you had on had gone now— and it drips down your chin as you gather your bearings and look up at him gratefully. “Thank you, baby,” you hum, and you take him into your mouth again, sucking him harder, moaning around him knowing the vibrations will make him feel good, lapping at his sensitive tip more with your tongue, while you pump the base of him, teasing his balls a little too. 

His head falls back as he bucks his hips a little, his hand holding onto your hair as he guides you. He pants heavily, cursing under his breath as he gets closer to the edge. You know exactly what he likes and exactly how to please him and right now, you have him like putty in your hands. 

Breathing heavily through your nose, you take him as deep as you can a few more times before he gasps and lets out a pornographic moan of your name, whimpering as he releases into your perfect mouth, “Oh, f-fuck, baby—so good f’me…makin’ me feel so good…nngh…!” He holds you there as the thick ropes of cum shoot out onto your tongue and you let out a soft mewl at the taste of him and the feel of him twitching. 

You gently caress his thighs as he pants for breath, guiding him down from the high. He slumps against the wall and sighs softly, looking down at you with parted lips and hooded eyes, “Get your ass on the bed, I’m gonna eat you out till you can’t take any more. Then, I’m gonna take you to the make up store and buy you some more of that gloss.”

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved. Divider by cafekitsune

[donatellawritings]

ON MY KNEES BEGGING TO KNOW HOW BFF!RAFE FEELS ABOUT LATINA READER GETTING DRUNK OR DOING COKE LLAPLSPLSPLS!!!!!

you were the prettiest girl at the party. all tipsy and glossy eyed, plump tits on full display as they bounced around in your skimpy triangle bikini, the fat of your plush ass cheeks poking out from underneath your lily pink juicy couture miniskirt as you pranced your way around topper’s backyard, dior kitten heels sporadically clicking against the cobblestone pavement. your bronze skin shimmered under the warm sun, shiny blown out hair flowing against the slight breeze as you found yourself topping your head back, the bff locket that rafe had bought you just a few weeks against glinting as the smooth shot of tequila slid down your throat.

you loved pool parties — even more so, now that you were able to properly debut the new fuschia diamond butterfly belly ring that dangled and shined with each sway of your hips.

scrunching your cute little button nose, you let out a shaky exhale, the burn of the alcohol now dull as you quickly shoved the bitter slice of lime between your shiny and swollen lips, “papito, that burned!” you whined with a short and breathy laugh, shuddering as chills ran across your warm body.

“yeah? told y’that s’gonna be your last one tonight, a’ight?” rafe tuts, gently pulling the now wilted slice of lime from your mouth, while swiftly removing the shot glass from your small hand, his gaze on you firm as you hold up your arms with forced pouty lips, “c’mon kid — can’t carry y’around right now,” he sighs, running a quick hand over his tight jaw.

rolling your eyes you poke out a wobbly bottom lip, your gaze unsteady as you stumble into rafe’s chest, “i thought y’were my best friend, papi!” you mumbled, completely obvious to the way your needy words made rafe’s stomach flip.

drunk and all, you always knew just how to get rafe to give into your every little stupid whim — so, you saved ‘papi’ for when things had to go your way.

gently grabbing you with a light pinch of your cherub cheeks, rafe looks you over, your dewy bambi eyes struggling to remain straight, “hey! cut it out, this is why i didn’t want y’drinkin,” his hand squeezes just a bit tighter, his brows furrowed as he watches fat tears well up at your waterline, “don’t start that cryin’, mama — i will take y’home,” he reprimands lowly, his bright blue eyes stoic and stern.

it was all too much for you. the blaring trap music, your tummy swirling, brain fuzzy from all the alcohol, and now your best friend was made at you? there was only so much that a delicate girl like you could take — so, all it took was that one empty threat to trigger the waterworks.

with a small sniffle, you take a quivering breath, “y-you’re mad at me?”

pursing his lips into a firm line, rafe shares a knowing look with topper who raises his hands up in surrender, “no, princess —”

“i just wanted t-to have so-some fun! m’sorry r-rafe,” you hiccuped, pulling your face out of rafe’s grip as you rushed to knuckle away your hot tears, your swollen tits jiggling with each uneven breath you took, “m’gonna g-go home by my-myself,” you heaved, your voice squeaky.

motioning towards you with wild hands, rafe shakes his head, defeated, at topper, “m’gonna take her crybaby ass home,”

ೀ

half awake, with the side of your soft cheek mushed against rafe’s shoulder, you kept your legs securely wrapped around his waist, semi-consciously wiggling your cute ass against his supporting hand. you couldn’t help yourself, rafe was so tall, and you were so pathetically drunk — you needed to be clung to him, and it warmed your pretty little heart.

“i looove you, papito,” you sang, pressing wet and sloppy pecks to the side of rafe’s jaw as he entered his bedroom with a relieved sigh. raising your heavy head off of rafe’s shoulder, you reach a dainty hand up to squish his cheeks together, with a sickeningly sweet giggle, “best friends forever, right?” you questioned, unfocused eyes all glazed and full of intense admiration.

letting out a sharp breath, rafe nudges your locket with his index finger — you were so out of it and loopy, rafe knew that he could say anything and you wouldn’t remember it, “always be y’best friend, until y’smarten up and be my girl. how does that sound, princess?” rafe smiles, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, his other still keeping you securely hoisted around his waist.

an exaggerated gasp leaves your faded glossy lips, “thought i was your girl already, papi?” you pouted, throwing your head back with a loud huff as rafe snakes a hand up to the back of your head, lightly pushing to get your teary gaze to meet his.

“no more cryin’, y’know exactly what i mean.” rafe reprimands gently, lowering you to stand on wobbly feet as you stumble backwards, “c’mon, mama — need y’to stand up just a little bit, yeah?” rafe grabs your elbow, his sober eyes set on you as you bite down into your bottom lip, far too deep in your drunken thought.

you loved your rafey and it broke your little heart to think that he believed otherwise — and maybe it was the alcohol talking, but you needed him to know that you were his girl through and through.

“maybe you can make me your girl, one day?”

cocking his head to the side, rafe breathes out a nervous chuckle, reaching up to scratch at the nape of his neck, “yeah, sweet girl — one day,” he assured you, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of you bouncing with utter joy, your shiny eyes beaming as you flop down into rafe’s bed.

letting out a sigh of content, your swollen lips ache from your stretched out grin, “m’gonna be your girl!” you cheer, your once drowsy state now turned to a hyper fit of excitement as rafe presses his lips to the top of your head.

[lilylovestowrite]

We all know that Aventurine's love language is definitely gift giving! So I would like to request aventurine spoiling his s/o with so much money and gifts. At first reader was thankful and also flustered with all of the gifts he provided for her, but later reader started to become annoyed cause he's been spoiling them too much, so one day they decided to text aventurine about this matter. They only just called his name and he already thought that they needed money so he sent the money. Reader was surprised at first but then got annoyed and decided to scold him in the chat (to which aventurine didn't take them seriously and even teases them, finding amusement with his lover's anger) make this a playful banter between the two and at the end, aventurine decided to meet up with them to pamper them, but this time, with affection ✨

MUST BE FUNNY, IN A RICH MAN'S WORLD ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Aventurine x GN! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ You decide to confront your boyfriend over his overzealous spending habits. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.4k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request! I love Aventurine SO MUCH. I want to hold him and cherish him but I think he deserves to be thrown down a flight of stairs because he’s such a brat. I am so normal about this man.

Divider by @/cafekitsune

‘I saw you eyeing this crystal swan the other day. When you and I get married, I’ll buy the whole store and decorate our venue with them if it’s to your liking- Kakavasha’

You are going to kill your boyfriend. 

You are going to kill your boyfriend over a Swarovski Swan on your bedside table. And thirty bottles of the same Dior perfume you wore once around him. And every piece of designer clothing he’s gifted you. And that one time he rented out a whole cruise ship just to play tag with you over a moonlit river. Well, perhaps not the last one. You liked the idea, the execution? A little overkill.

But this? Overkill can’t even begin to explain how much Aventurine has been spending on you recently. Just before you started dating, he would regularly spoil you with large bouquets of your favourite flowers and a few lovely pieces of jewellery. It was sweet at first: you remember blushing and hiding your flustered face behind your palm, only for him to kiss your hand and usher it away. “Stop, you look super cute when you’re flustered,” he’d say, but now, a deep pit of shame hollows the joy out of every gift he gives you. He gives, and gives, and spoils you, but what do you have to offer? 

You do appreciate his gestures, and it feels lovely to be kitted out in the finest gossamer, or the softest of silks. The aroma of expensive perfume smells less chemical-ly and manufactured compared to your old bottles. There isn’t a day that goes by where your flower vases in your house aren’t filled with high-end flowers. It’s affection, sure, but, you wish he didn’t feel as if your love is something to be bought. 

With Aventurine, you have to be careful with your communication. He may play off other people’s rude comments about his origin or his affiliation with the IPC. Other people’s opinions don’t matter. But you know how much he cherishes you, and you don’t fit into the bracket of ‘other people’. If you seem too dismissive of his efforts, you fear that he may feel rejected. Picturing his sad face drooping makes you only want to let him coddle you, but you can’t allow this to happen anymore. You ponder your text carefully, before hitting send. 

You: 

Kakavasha. 

Peacock <3: 

My love? 

Are you upset with me?

I’m so sorry, let me handle it. 

Oh, wow. That was a quick fix. You sigh in relief and put your phone down, allowing yourself to get more comfortable in the covers. Another ping erupts from your phone, and the notification nearly makes you turn around and sob. 

Peacock <3 has sent you 1,000,000 Credits

You: 

STOP SENDING ME MONEY

I’M NOT YOUR SUGAR BABY FFS 

So much for being ‘careful with your communication’, but 1,000,000 credits is insanity! Does he think he can buy you off? You sigh and watch the text bubbles load as he types. 

Peacock <3:

Darling, what do you mean?

I want to spoil you! 

And if I’ve done something wrong, I’ll make it up to you!

You:

Then. Maybe. ASK

‘What’s wrong?’

BEFORE SENDING ME A SHITLOAD OF CREDITS

Peacock <3:

What’s wrong, angel? 

You reread your messages and realise how aggressive you're coming off, so you decide to talk to him face to face. Surely, his suave tongue and pretty face won't distract you from the matter at hand. Right?

You:

Let’s call.

You have started a call with Peacock <3

“Kakavasha, stop sending me money!” You hiss the second he picks up the phone. It’s the early morning, and hues of liquid sunlight paint your lover’s skin in light gold. Streaks of light coming through the blinds of his window shine through his gorgeous eyes, turning them translucent like opalescent marble. Aventurine gives you a tiny lopsided grin, the same one that creeps onto his face when he’s plotting something, and you don’t like it one bit. “

“How else am I supposed to show my adoration for you?” His silken, honeyed voice echoes through the phone. You have to stop yourself from giggling at his lovely voice, the cadence rising and falling masterfully, all perfectly orchestrated to let you listen to him instead of arguing. 

But you don’t take the bait yet. 

“I don’t know, maybe spend time with me?” You reply, but you can’t conceal the blush on your face when you realise that he’s only just woken up. His light blond hair is tousled and one of the cat cakes stretches on his lap. Although Aventurine dresses to impress, it’s the domesticated, sweet mornings where he truly shines. 

“I do spend time with you. We went to see the Opera just three nights ago!”

“Without money being spent, Kakavasha. I want a simple, romantic date. No renting out hotels, no extravagant jewellery, and no mariachi band like that one time-” 

“In my defence, I was completely wasted-” He interjects, giggling softly at the memory of planning a lovely beach date after consuming wine like water, and then ordering a band on a whim.

“You were barely awake, I drew a moustache on you.” You muse. Watching Aventurine’s face morph into an angry pout, like a kitten, makes you emit an ugly laugh. 

“That was you?” He gasps, clutching his heart with faux sorrow. Dramatically falling back on his black pillow, his golden locks are spread. Aventurine’s half lidded gaze and light pink blush makes you want to crawl into bed next to him and trace patterns into his hands, and his lovely eyes would-

“Don’t distract me from the matter at hand! Please stop spending on me, sweetheart. I’m not saying I don’t like your love, I want it! Just not in such an excessively materialistic way, you know?” 

This comment breaks Aventurine’s suave attitude. He blinks at you through the camera, positively perplexed. His eyes are wide and shocked, resembling that of a deer tasting cardboard. “H-how else am I supposed to show my love for you?” 

“Well, how do I show my love for you?”

Aventurine’s eyes look up, trying to recall: “You hold my hands,” he lists one on his fingers,  “listen to me when I speak, you support me through hard times,” he smiles warmly at you, flashing a toothy grin that makes his nose scrunch up cutely, bring back pebbles that remind you of me…” A devious smirk makes its way into his face and you prepare yourself to interject: “and you bite my as-” 

“Enough!” You reprimand him, but your tone is soft. “See? I don’t buy things for you to feel loved. You’re much more than a bank, even if other people don’t make you feel that way.” Suddenly bashful, Kakavasha looks away from you. Perhaps unused to such affections, he hugs the cat cake on his lap closer to his chest. 

“I just want to give you the best of the best.” He replies defensively, and you sigh softly.

“You are the best of the best, Kakavasha.” 

“Then,” his voice cracks in an attempt to hide his shyness, “let’s meet up at your place. Let’s stay inside and watch a movie? I hear that’s a popular date idea.” 

“Perfect. My door is open, we can do face masks and-” The call is interrupted by one of the cat cakes jumping on his head, causing him to tumble off the bed and clutch onto the sheets for stability. Instead, his finger hits the end call button. You giggle softly. For all of his cocky displays, Aventurine, at his truest form, is just a little bit of a dork. 

Said dork knocks at your door, dressed in a lovely black dress shirt and his white pants. You suddenly feel a little self conscious, in your bunny slippers and oversized dress shirt. But the way he hugs you and lifts you off the ground slightly for a kiss, it makes you feel like a national treasure. You waddle your way onto the couch, still hugging, and collapse into the plush cushions.

“So, what movie are we feeling today?” Aventurine pulls a blanket over the two of you, and your eyes brighten with an idea. “The Great Gatsby?” 

“Mm, tragic ending. No. Let’s hold that thought.” He leans over and gently pries the remote out of your hand. “Instead,” he kisses your nose and pushes you into the couch a little more, “let me show you even more ways I can show my affection for you.” He whispers, and captures your lips for a deep kiss…

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Thingol, Luthien, and Dior’s claim to the silmaril bugs the living daylights outta me and I’m gonna break down why. This goes a bit beyond ownership laws.

Starting with basics. What are the silmarils? Gems created by Fëanor that hold the light of the Two Trees. Who in Beleriand saw the light of the trees and no doubt misses it like a limb? Are here in part to avenge their destruction? The Noldor.

The Sindar never went to Valinor. They might find the gems beautiful but that’s it. There’s no cultural or emotional connection to them beyond ‘pretty stone, look how awesome our princess was.’ There’s no appreciation for what they hold. No understanding that this stone is one of the *last* things that holds the ancient light of the Trees.

The Noldor meanwhile not only saw the Light, they had entire festivals surrounding it. Grew their entire culture, their lives, under and around it. Now the trees are destroyed, their king killed defending these jewels. And this last beacon of hope, a piece of the home they can never return to, a piece of light that will never come back, is being kept by people who can’t even begin to understand the significance of what they keep.

Now imagine being the sons of the one who made this jewel from a culture of people who value craft above all else.

Not only is it light, it’s the result of years of toil and experimentation of your father, the one who managed to do what no one had ever even thought of. Fëanor’s sons would have been the first to see these jewels, probably saw him make prototypes, work equations whilst they worked on their own crafts. Provided what relief they could to his ever working mind and inadvertently gave him ideas that helped solve problems he encountered along the way. Suddenly it’s not only a key part of their culture, it’s something core to their family.

Then Fëanor is killed and in many ways it’s the most important thing they have left of their father. Now it’s a source of memory too, for someone doomed to the Halls for eternity. Who they’ll likely never see again unless they’re killed.

Now from what I’ve heard, Tolkien says the Fëanorions lost their right to the Silmarils when they killed for them. Which makes no sense considering the Silmarils were *created* by Fëanor. Yes the light was created by the Valar, but what, you’re gonna say ‘I created electricity so that lightbulb you made is actually mine.’ That’s not how it works. Fëanor made the casing for the stones and figured out how to hold the light, without aid from the Valar. It doesn’t matter what actions they take, the right to the Silmarils remain theirs and theirs alone. The jewels hold no power of their own, they’re literally objects. Healing objects at most. Morals do not dictate their ownership, hallowed or not.

Tolkien going on to say the right of Doriath’s Silmaril actually goes to Beren and Luthien for taking it from Morgoth gives me frankly coloniser vibes.

‘Oh this thing I stole was originally stolen from you? Too bad. I took it so it’s mine now. Don’t care how important it is to you, your entire culture, and your people.’

Get where I’m coming from?

All in all the whole situation gives me Bad Vibes and I really don’t like the attitude the Sindar have to the Silmaril. In terms of Elwing, I can partly forgive her purely based on trauma response. Fine. Doesn’t make it right, but I understand. But that never would’ve been a problem if her father, grandmother, or great grandfather had the sense to acknowledge the silmaril was never theirs to keep. Don’t like the Fëanorions, (too bad) at least give it back to the Noldor.

[wxxpingangxls]

Girl Next Door

+synopsis; a new, single and smoking hot neighbour moves in next door and you offer to babysit his son while he’s busy at work…money isn’t the only payment

+content/warnings; black reader but no explicit description, typical suburban wives, reader and nanami are around the same age (early 30s), both single parents, reader has a daughter, set in the early 2000s, messy sex, desperate!nanami (he hasn't had good pussy in a while :((((( ), sloppy pussy eating, fingering, squirting

+pairings; black!milf fem!reader x dilf!nanami

The moving van obstructed the view of the new home owners moving in a few houses down from your home. The sounds of young children giggling and conspiring among themselves resounded around the neighbourhood as you and the other wives gossiped about the new neighbour.

“So, what did you say after she commented on the dress you wore?” one of the woman asked you as you peered up from your pink mug. “Ugh don’t even get me started on her. She took one look at me and assumed I was stone cold broke! Can you imagine that?” you exclaimed, raising both hands up in disbelief.

“Oh my God! Major hunk alert!” you snapped your head towards the direction in which of the girls were pointing at. The moving van had moved and in your line of vision was a tall man in a blue shirt and suspenders. His blonde hair was smartly slicked back and his designer watch blinged in the daylight.

“Woah…” you gasped, your mouth wide open and salivating. You could see his pecs and arms bulging through the material. "I think it's only fair that we give our new neighbour a warm welcome..." you smile, whilst reaching towards the basket of freshly home-baked sweet treats and pastries.

You swore you only came over to offer to take his son to the park to accompany your daughter while he unpacked at his new home. Yet here you were, on the cleared out dining table, while the children lay asleep in one of the separate rooms. Your halter neck dress was bunched up around your waist and your pink Dior strappy heeled sandals were long disguarded somewhere around the home. Your hot cunt was leaking as you silently waited for him to get back to work. Your hands were back in his hair, griping tightly as his tongue flicked up and down your heated cunt.

“Mphmmm, just like that Kento…” the moans of his name further egging him on to make you cum again. It’s been way too long since you come to an orgasm this good. With the divorce proceedings finally settled and custody matters dealt with, you haven’t had time to do anything. It also didn’t help that you couldn’t find a baby sitter to take care of your baby girl whilst working.

But having this mouth watering, leg opening hunk of a man between your legs, all your problems seemed minor and oh so trivial. His mouth suckling on your small bud, making your legs bounce up in ecstasy. Kento groaned as he shook his head side to side, smearing your filthy secretions all over his face and your thighs. You whined out loud, sensitivity and overstimulation getting to you, while this man just enamoured himself in your sweet filth. Hunger and carnal desire is all that fuelled him on.

Kento’s calloused hands gripped onto your thighs, his biceps flexing every time he put extra weight on your legs to stop you from shaking. Your back arched as he slowly slipped a finger into the slick hole. “Oh, fuck, s’good…” his finger left your pulsing cunt as he started rubbing your clit side to side.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you pretty girl,” his voice resounded around your mushy mind. You nodded, too far gone to acknowledge what exactly he was saying. “Come on, give it to me baby,” he whined out loud, bucking his hips into the air for some sort of relief. Drool seeped as your cunt squeezed around nothing, his three fingers rubbing hard against your soft clit.

His lips found his way to your thighs, sucking marks onto them as your breathing hitched.

“Have you squirted before?” he asks stopping momentarily, whilst sitting up to make eye contact with you. “What?” you reply completely drained from his teasing.

“Come here,” his large hands wrap themselves around your thigh and brings closer to himself to distract you from the fact that he was sliding two fingers into your cunt.

Your walls immediately tighten as his fingers curl up, finding your gooey spot. “Oh! Good…S’good!”

“I need for you to relax for me sweetheart, okay?” he looked down at your bubbling eyes as you nodded feverishly. “There’s a good girl,”

His large free hand runs down to your stomach as the other fingers roll themselves further into your cunt. Your moans further increase in pitch. His hand finally places itself on your lower stomach before pressing, hard.

Kento watches in amusement as he eyes your face contorting into that of pleasure. “Relax sweets,” he quickly mutters as he notices your feeble attempts to try and squirm away.

“Wait…Wait!”

Your cunt squelches and squeezes around his fingers as you start gushing against his abdomen. “Yeah…just like that!” he whispers softly “There it is…Fuck!”

Your legs are shaking and your eyes tearing up as you try and catch your breath while he helps you ride out your high.

You said your goodbyes and gave your blessing to the new neighbour next door and his small son. Your own child lay peacefully asleep in your arms, her small snores reverberating in your ears. Kento Nanami shut the front door, letting out a deep sigh.

He silently sat and hoped that the girl next door hadn’t seen the huge cum stain in his brand new tailored work trousers. After all, all he did was eat out your sweet cunt. But give it time, soon enough, he’ll come running for more than just the taste of your sweet cunt.

[cherryrikis]

OPERATION: LOCKDOWN - 010 ! rainbow road

pairing -> gamer!riki x beauty influencer!fem reader

synopsis -> you hated gamers. riki hated ulzzang’s (except you). so after weeks of fighting to be the top streamer, (and riki’s poor attempts to charm you), he suggests to collaborate so you could both be number one. you tried to keep it professional. but the more time you spent producing content together, the more you realized just how much nishimura riki really meant to you.

previous <> masterlist <> next

“is it recording?” you whisper to jungwon as he holds the camera up in front of you. he shakes his head in response, before holding up 3 fingers to count down.

“hello yn nation, riki nation, and diors angels enthusiasts alike! this is yn, @/ynschoices or @/ynschoice on all platforms,” you pause, waiting for riki to introduce himself. “and this is riki. @/nishiriki2005 on all platforms.”

“today is episode two of the theme park archives! where essentially, we just go to different theme parks and rate rides, eat good food, vlog, etc etc.” you start off, before gesturing for riki to continue the introduction.

“oh, right! so we are here at universal studios hollywood. as you know, i was the guest on the last episode at disneyland. so of course, we are introducing a new member today.” riki finished, before flashing a slight smile.

you took the camera out of jungwon’s hands, flipping it around so it would face him.

“jungwon nation! this is yang jungwon, @/yanggoyang on streamlab or twitter.” he cheered, while waving, greeting the viewers.

“first, we’re gonna head to super nintendo world. so, l-e-t-s g-o!”

“that’s what we decided to call it? theme park archives?” riki asked as the recording ended. “yeah. don’t worry about it.” you pout.

even though your camera was nearly confiscated, you were still able to obtain a few clips of the three of you on the mario kart themed ride.

one of which, (of course), showed jungwon squealing in delight as you reached the ‘rainbow road’ part of the ride. it was a memory you knew the three of you would be fond of, and one the fans would enjoy.

“so, jungwon, how was your ride experience as a mario kart enthusiast?” riki asked jungwon as he waved the camera in his face.

“it was absolutely amazing! we have to go back before we leave. the rainbow road part was so trippy, but i loved it. 10/10 experience, yn nation, i heavily recommend this ride.” jungwon spoke, tapping the camera lens.

“where should we go next?” you asked, as riki pulled the camera strap over your head, so you could wear it as a crossbody.

“let’s go ride that 3d transformers ride!” jungwon exclaimed.

“i’ll race you there?” riki posed an offer. “okay, 3, 2- hey, not fair! you cheated!” jungwon grumbled as riki ran ahead before the countdown.

you sighed as they raced through the crowd, running to be first before the other. quickly, you tried to pick up the pace, but couldn’t catch up to their speed. especially since they were at an advantage in height. so, you settled to continue speed walking.

but, you stopped when you heard someone call out your name. a girl, appearing to be around 15-17 approached you.

“excuse me yn? im such a big fan. i was wondering if i could get a picture with you? unless you’re in a rush, because if not i totally understand-”

“of course you could. no worries.” you politely ended her rant, before smiling softly.

she pulled out a pocket sized digital camera and posed beside you. “thank you so much, have a good trip! also, i don’t know if this is out of line or anything, but i think you and ni-ki are really cute together.” the girl chuckled, before walking back to her friends.

you left with a smile. riki was definitely gonna hear about this later.

“y/n, can you get me a frozen butterbeer?” riki asked, as he began to pull out his wallet.

“yeah of course. and don’t worry, it’s my treat.” you smiled, before getting up from the bench the three of you sat on. “i’ll be quick.”

riki watched you walk away, making sure you were out of sight. “so listen, jungwon. i’m planning to confess to y/n later, and i kind of want to have her alone for this. so….” he trailed off.

“are you serious? i can’t be left alone!” jungwon pouted.

“we’ll just leave you in springfield! and then we can stop for donuts on the way back home.” riki offered.

“no, i wanna go to k-town in west hollywood.” jungwon negotiated. “that butterbeer maxed out my sugar limit for the day.”

“alright, we can do that.” riki shrugged. “but you should start to get going now.”

“what are you gonna tell y/n?” “just that you met up with some friends.”

“alright. good luck man.” jungwon sighed as he stood up, before patting riki’s shoulder.

soon after, you came back with two frozen butterbeers in hand. “where’d jungwon go?” you questioned.

“he went to meet up with some high school friends by the simpsons ride. but we’ll see him later.” riki shrugged while he took a sip from his cup.

“let’s go on the jurassic park water ride then?” you suggested.

“look at the dinosaurs!” you exclaimed. “they’re just robots..” riki huffed, as the ride came to a stop, before making a sharp turn.

“you’re such a pessimist riki.” you rolled your eyes.

suddenly, the ride progressed into a more indoor atmosphere, and the lights flashed red.

“you know there’s a drop, right?” you informed.

“how high?” “about 90 feet.”

“shit.” riki cursed under his breath.

now or never. he thought.

“y/n, there’s something i wanted to tell you. and i didn’t know how to say it, but now i do.” riki confessed.

“what did you wanna say?” you hum.

the ride accelerated, progressing quickly towards the dark tunnel at the end of the scene.

"i wanted to tell you how much i like you. and that i was hoping you'd feel the same." he spat out in one quick breath.

you turned to meet his hazy gaze with a shocked expression on your face. “what?” your eyes widened.

riki quickly moved his fingers off the railing, and went to grab onto your hand. the t-rex animatronic dropped down and roared out loud, as the ride began to tip further over the edge, before finally accelerating down the steep slope.

“i like you choi y/n! i really do!” riki yelled over the loud noise of the artificial waterfall, gripping onto you tighter as he felt like he almost flew out his seat due to the 90° angle drop.

the ride quickly stopped, and a big wave of water crashed over the two of you because you decided to sit up front.

you and riki turned to face each other with deep eye contact, before breaking out into an fit of laughter. the two of you were soaking wet, but you didn’t care, you were just having a good time.

“did you mean it?” you asked.

“every last word.” riki mumbled, before you pulled him into a soft kiss.

your hand reached up to grip his shoulder as riki began to deepen the kiss, sighing against your lips.

but then you realized. you were in public. the park was near closing time, meaning there were few people around you.. meaning that they were just watching.

you pulled away from riki, grimacing as a droplet of water dropped down from his hair, and onto your nose.

riki grew shy as he turned around, noticing how most of the people around you two now had their eyes focused on him. he moved closer to you, pressing his head against yours while you leaned on one another.

“jungwon isn’t meeting up with friends, is he?” you asked with a raised brow. “no, i got rid of him. but we compromised.” riki said with a proud smile, as you walked out the exit.

“i like you too by the way.” you mumbled, as the two of headed towards the escalator to go back up to the main part of the park.

“i know.” riki assured while he wrapped his arm around you, after giving you his sweater. “i know..” he muttered again, before pressing a final kiss on the side of your head, as you leaned closer against him.

taglist ! (bold = cannot be tagged) @yvjw @chaevibes @sakiimeo @allforhee @streamluckybyriize @soobinbunnie5 @lalaisve @xyzyx01 @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @brideslit @t0asterexe @ikeujyn @jaemified @chiaki-nanami-aesthetic @sirens-dreams @rikisgeef @i03jae @iheartshopping @wensurr @heartheejake @moonpri @nshmra-on-air @heeseungismymanz @st1llm0nster @ningx2stan @onlyhyunjin @d-dilemma @jjongarlic02 @wonkixo @kkamismom12 @jiyeons-closet @pshbites @haechansbbg @aeminju @xoxol3a @rairaiblog @kang-ulzzang @riksaes @kittsnewera @enhajungwonheart @madebylilia @orimuraa @heeheeswifey @artstaeh @r1kification @pinksdump @joyzluvr @academiq @sincerelyrki @tocupid

networks ! @en-diaries

[cranberryjuice-posts]

HELLO?? I LOVE YOUR CLARISSE FANFICS I EAT THEM UP EVERY SINGLE TIME!!! ok ok so i was wonderingggg if you could do dior goodjohn x (actor/singer) reader! their in this interview together just the two of them for percy jackson, the interview makes reader uncomfortable and then clarisse is just like protecting reader! then when they get home they get blasted with edits of them but if you don’t do fanfics of the actors that’s totally ok because i have one for clarisse! clarisse la rue x (athena) reader! the reader and clarisse where friends before clarisse got sent to camp haft blood and so like about 3 years later reader gets sent there too, reader doesn’t recognize clarisse before clarisse says this one things that makes reader remember (you can decide on what she says! would be amazing if their could be like a makeout sesh😋😋) TY IF YIU SEE THIS AND YK MAKE THE FSNFICS AHH LOVE YOUR WRITING

You know where to find me — and I know where to look

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader

One of your earliest memories was when you were 13. Running around with clarisse in your private catholic boarding school, skipping class and watching as she would constantly get into fights.

You both looked after eachother, clarisses mom was enlisted in the army thus she lived with her grandma who wasn’t the nicest and you.. well your dad seemed to only care about you when he needed something solved.

Forcing clarisse to sit on the schools bathroom sink counter you started to clean a cut on the girls cheek. Not wanting to even think about how you’ll get the blood off her light blue uniform top. “It’s not even my fault!” The young girl yelled. “If Jeremiah thinks ‘slap ass Friday’ is so funny then maybe he should get his ass beat every now and then”

You just nodded following along with what the girl spoke. Moving a frizzy curl out of the girls way you noticed how she scoffed. “I should just cut this off” she grabbed the loose curls shoving them into her messy ponytail. “Don’t do that” you sighed pulling her hands away from her hair. “You Just Need some help to keep your curls nice that’s all”

Clarisses cheeks flushed, she shoved your hands away as she looked to the side. “Whatever”

“Hey!” A teacher aggressively busted into the bathroom. “Skipping class really?! Both of You principal office now!”

Clarisse grabbed your hand pushing past the teacher and down the private schools halls. You laughed as you followed the girl around the school, running down the stairs and past the nuns.

Shoving into a janitors closet and shutting it before the teacher could catch up. You panted while clarisse who Just practically ran a marathon was fine. Turning on the light you plopped down onto a pair of stacked chairs. “How are You able to do that!?”

“Do what?”

“Run like That and not even be tired” you questioned. Clarisse just shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t really know I just am I a guess” she sighed sitting on a shelf.

Finally catching your breath you looked over “Hey clarisse?”

The girl set the tool she had been messing with down. “Yeah?”

“Will we always be best friends?” You quietly asked. Paying attention as clarisse had an annoyed look on her face she soon nodded. “Yeah.. cause you’ll always know where to find me”

You rolled your eyes “well I always know where to look” chuckling you reached out with your pinkie. Clarisse followed suit latching here onto yours. You knew what was between you and clarisse was far away from platonic but what did you know you were just some 13 year old kid.

The next morning clarisse was gone. Not a word not a letter nothing.. she had just left

You promised yourself you would never forget her. At first it started with not remembering how she spoke, then you forgot her face, and soon enough even her name you had completely forgotten.

———

Three years later.

After being chased by a hellhound and a few other angry monsters you found yourself at camp halfblood.

The weeks sorta merged together. However once you were claimed by Athena everything seemed to change, new found siblings. People wanting to be your friends and now finally not feeling like you were alone.

Through out your weeks at camp you had heard about a girl named clarisse. The name sounded familiar but you couldn’t place it exactly. The fact the mysterious girl avoided you to didn’t help either.

—

Annabeth Open the door agressivly throwing her dagger onto the bed. “What’s wrong?” You asked looking up from your book. “Nothing nothing.. I just got paired to lead a training class with clarisse”

“And what’s the problem?”

“She’s terrible What do you mean ‘what’s the problem’” your sister scoffed crossing her arms.

“I just meant that clarisse hasn’t done anything to me personally.. I don’t think I’ve even met her before” shaking your head you returned to your book.

Annabeth stayed quiet for a moment before grabbing the boom out of your hand. “Fine then, if you’ve never met her before then you should go lead the class with her.. besides it’ll be good for you”

Begrudgingly you accepted. Leaving your cabin you headed towards the arena, dagger strapped at your thigh.

—

The arena was loud and well… sweaty. Joining the kids who were sparring you made your way to a girl who stood crossed arm wearing Greek armor. “Uh hi? Your clarisse right” You stepped up to her. “I’m annabeths sister she wasn’t feeling well so I’m here to help you uh lead the class”

“You have any experience in battle” she rudely spoke not looking at you. “No b—“

“Then get lost I don’t need any dead weight” she scoffed before turning her attention back to the other campers who were sparring. “Hey! Did I not just say to stop stepping out!!”

You looked at the girl with a irritated face. “I’m not dead weight I can help”

Clarisse grabbed her spear before she harshly turned towards you. Just as she was going to say something she stopped. Looking at you for a second clarisse seemed to calm down. “Y/n?” She quietly asked.

Stepping back some you looked around confused. “Uh yeah.. that’s my name” you nodded awkwardly.

She took her helmet off tossing it aside looking at you excitedly. “It’s me? Remember? no fucking way your a demigod to! I should of guessed you were always the top of our class— gods how have you been”

At this point you were weirded out. “I’m sorry but I don’t know you..” She furrowed her eyebrows slightly fustrated. “What do You mean you don’t know me? We were best friends”

You just shrugged your shoulders apologetically. Clarisse nodded taking a moment to think before grabbing your hand, forcing it into a fist with your pinky sticking out. She linked her pinky with yours and gave you a slightly annoyed look. “You know where to find me”

It took you a few seconds to register what she said. After an uncomfortable amount of silence clarisse sighed, before she could pull away however you tightly linked your pinky with hers “and I know where to look” You smiled “oh my god clarisse!” you laughed hugging the girl tightly.

Some of The campers around stopped what they were doing, shocked at the fact clarisse was being hugged by a pretty girl. Quickly returning to what they were doing after receiving a hateful glare from clarisse.

The strong girl hugged you back tightly, allowing you to pull back you continued to grin. “Look at You! Wow you’ve gotten so pretty, and strong to gods” laughing you reached out to touch the girls face before noticing her hair. “And your hair— see what did I say all you needed to do was learn to take care of it properly”

A familiar rush flooded your body. How clarisses hands were now squeezing your hips with her body close to yours- so close you could smell her pine cologne. Your cheeks turned red once you realized you were playing with the girls hair

Clearing your throat you pulled back completely taking a few steps away from her. “Sorry I just uh.. I got to excited”

Clarisse shook her head “don’t worry about it.. anyways uh if you still wanna help with all this just grab a sword from over there ok”

You smiled in response. It had been years since you felt like that, Clarisse for some reason always made you get flustered… but that didn’t mean anything.

———

Over the next week you found yourself spending every free second with clarisse.

It was like a breath of fresh air. You both had changed a-lot from being 13 to 16 but the same spark was still between you both. You found it amusing how she could go from an Absolute bully to a sweet heart towards you.

What didn’t help was how attractive the girl was. Her muscular arms and face that was meant to wear greek Armor made you go weak in the knees. Being gay was something you came to terms with years ago but finding yourself falling in love with your best-friend was just cringe. Out of all the girls at camp you choose clarisse.. really

——

The best part of camp in your opinion was the bondfire. Being able to sit around a cozy setting with friends and family warmed your heart in more ways than one.

After some time you were approached by a girl named Willow who you later found out was a daughter of Hermes.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like her. She was tall, strong and had a charming face, And she clearly seemed to like you to. “Don’t lie to me pretty girl you’ve seriously never had your first kiss”

Shaking your head you let out a soft laugh. “No never, actually I’ve never had a girlfriend before” Willow scoffed, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear she leaned forward some. “Well.. I can offer an easy solution to both those problems— that is if you would like it” she tilted her head some.

Before you could answer however clarisse shoved Willow back from where she was making her almost fall out of her seat. “Clarisse what the fuck!”

“She’s not interested Willow, instead of preying on girls who don’t want you why don’t you go fuck around with one of your ex”

Campers looking over, embarrassed enough as it was you Grabbed clarisses arm pulling her away. Quickly finding the Athena cabin you threw the girl inside. “What was That” you almost yelled.

“What was What” she continued to play innocent, now messing around with you stuff— grabbing s mechanical pencil to mess with. “Stop Just stop! Clarisse a girl was finally showing Interest in me—-“

“Yeah a fuck girl who only wants to finger you then break your heart but god forbid I look out for you right!”

“I don’t care about that! It’s still the matter of fact someone liked me and you just—“

“Did you ever stop to think there might me other girls out there better than Willow who like you!”

At this point you were beyond frustrated. “Gods can You stop interrupting me!” You watched as clarisse awkwardly shifted her stance, now feeling bad you sighed walking over to the girl hugging her. “I know I’m new to this whole demigod life and you have no idea how thankful I am for having you here”

Clarisse squeezed you slightly. After a few moments you laughed. “What did you mean by ‘other girls here like me’ I’ve only been here for what like a month?” Clarisse didn’t respond however her actions told you otherwise. The shifting in her feet, the way her eyes avoided yours, how she held you— fuck clarisse liked you.

Once you realized it the daughter of ares knew you already figured it out. She cursed under her breath for a moment but was soon caught up in the fact you had grabbed her face and kissed her. The kiss only lasted for a second even though it wasn’t that great of a kiss it got the point across. “I like you I like you a lot actually uh clarisse your super cool and sweet and I ju—“ you started to anxiously ramble until she cut you off with yet another kiss this time it being more directed and sweet.

Pulling away you smiled, keeping your lips close to the girls “you know what I love about you.. how you always let me finish my sentences” the opposing girl just rolled her eyes making you laugh once again

———

Once you returned to the campfire you were confused as to why people were making teasing remarks at you and clarisse.. until annabeth pointed out your now messed up hair, flushed cheeks, wrinkled shirt and lastly the growing hickey on your neck.

———

Y/n - you are a sociopath these look like you tried to strangle me

Clarisse - Yeah Well you weren’t complaining when I was leaving them there

—

[awooghan]

fall in love with me (this christmas) ✧.* h.hj

➳ PAIRING: hyunjin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, mild angst, best friends to lovers, fake dating, christmas

➳ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, hyunjin is tipsy in one part (he and reader are ‘00 or ‘01 tho so they’re legal), UNEDITED (will be fully edited by new years) UPDATE: fully edited as of jan. 19, 2024

➳ WORD COUNT: 22.9k (final wc after editing)

➳ SUMMARY: hyunjin has one last chance to have a college christmas romance and he’ll do anything to have it—even if it means fake-dating his best friend. (inspired by "cold december night" by michael buble)

➳ NOTES: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!! 🎄❄️ i hope you have/had an amazing day with love ones and good food! this fic is my christmas collab with my bestie @ujimoo :3 some parts r kind of rough bc we didn't fully edit yet but i hope y'all enjoy <3

network tags: @kflixnet @straykidsland-main @kwritersworld

prologue.

– halloween.

You didn’t think the night could get any worse.

The night started from the moment you caught a whiff of beer, sweat, and Dior Sauvage as Hyunjin dragged you by the hand to ‘Jackson’s 2023 Annual Hallo-Wang Party’. You could think of a thousand other ways you wanted to spend your Halloween that didn’t involve being stuck here, but you lost a bet with Chan, so you don’t exactly have a choice.

So here you are, sitting in the kitchen with your now-ruined costume sticking to your skin, thanks to someone (Jeongin) spilling his tequila on you when you were playing beer pong. Now, not only is your head throbbing from the smell of frat party, but you have an ugly pink blotch on the costume you took weeks to put together.

You nurse whatever the concoction of alcohol is the punch when Hyunjin, too tipsy for his own good, slides up next to you and rests his chin on your shoulder. 

“Y/NNN~…” he sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “There you are!” 

Fighting against his hold on you, you’re finally able to get his hands away from your waist, only for him to wrap his arms around your arm like a lost child. 

“Why don’t you love me?” he mumbles, hiccuping at the end of his sentence. “Do you hate me?” 

A smile tugs at your lips as you turn to look at your best friend. His blond hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares at you. “Of course.” 

His nose scrunches in disgust and he shakes his head as your laughter surrounds him. It somehow makes him feel lighter than all of the alcohol he’s drunk combined. 

“You’re so mean, why would you say that?” he whines. He grabs your arm tighter and shoves his head on your shoulder. 

Exhaling, you pat his head lightly before resting your head on his. It’s like the world goes silent for a moment as you run your fingers through his hair.

You’re both like that for an uncertain amount of time before Hyunjin jumps back up, his arms still around your arm. A large tipsy smile creeps on his face and he suddenly begins to giggle. The way his eyes light up almost makes you do the same.

“I think Jisoo is going to ask me out~” He sighs dreamily.  “I feel the vibes, you can feel it too, right?” 

You catch the way two of your friends, Changbin and Jisung, are watching you from the kitchen door. Sticking your tongue out at them, they return it with winks, eyeing up both you and Hyunjin. 

You turn back to the giggly blond clinging to your arm and shrug. “I’m not sure. I don’t really see her around campus.”

You’re not trying to sound like you’re completely disinterested in what Hyunjin’s saying, but when you already know where it’s heading, you can’t help it. You’re not really sure Hyunjin is even listening though when he sighs to himself and tugs on your arm again. 

“This is—” tug. “My chance—” tug. “For my Christmas romance, Y/Nie.” A harder tug.  “I can feel it in the air!” Aggressive shaking.

Breaking your arm away from him, you huff. Can’t you have one night before Hyunjin’s constant babbling about Christmas and Christmas romances?

“Can we wait till after Halloween to talk about Christmas, please?” you groan, causing Hyunjin to sneer at you. 

“Why do you have to be such a Grinch?” he attempts to whisper—but his intoxicated brain has other ideas. 

You attempt to ignore the feeling of his arms sneakily slipping around your waist again and the way his head seems to fit into the dip of your shoulder as you sigh.

“Ask me about it again tomorrow.” 

…

You really didn’t think the night could get any worse. But after corralling Hyunjin, who could barely stand on his own, back to his dorm, you were proven wrong. So, so wrong.

When you finally untangle yourself from his hold and hand him off to his poor roommate, Felix, it’s 11:58pm. Normally, you wouldn’t care to watch the clock for something so mundane, but you had a feeling he was going to text you the minute you look away.

And sure enough, the second you leave Hyunjin’s dorm building, you feel your phone vibrate in your hoodie pocket.

Hyunnie : it’s november 1st Hyunnie : it’s christmas time bitch!! Hyunnie : ah Hyunnie : sorry for calling you a bitch… Hyunnie : i got excited TT

You can only roll your eyes fondly. At least it’s November now.

one.

– november 1st.

Hyunjin feels sticky. 

Every year he rejoices at the start of the Christmas season, but every year he also forgets that the start is the one part he hates. The morning is so nice and icy-cold, everything sweater weather should be. But by midday… the sweater has to come off. Then he’s sweating in places he shouldn’t be, he’s itching all over, and he’s all grumpy and gross and he just wants to shower twenty times to try and rid himself of the feeling of his clothes clinging to his skin. 

He can see his breath just past his nose as he tries to rid his shoes of the mush that is the remains of fallen leaves. He knows he shouldn’t have worn his pristine white sneakers that you had gotten him for his birthday earlier that year (ones that he, not to mention, cleans frantically after every use). But they go so well with his dark grey jeans that he had to! The things he does for his passion for fashion…

When Jisoo first messaged him asking to meet up by the trees, it felt like a dream come true, one he’s been waiting for for so long. But now that he’s here, he’s not sure how long he’s been waiting, but he feels like he’s a Sim with stink lines coming off of him and he wants to scream. His controller must hate him because nothing is going as he planned. 

So when he finally sees Jisoo in the distance, he lets out a sigh of relief. He sees her try and keep her bag on her shoulder as she rushes over. When she’s finally in front of him, with strands of hair stuck to her face, her mouth slightly open as she tries to catch her breath… all Hyunjin does is blink. 

If you had asked him a week ago, he would have found this adorable. He would have screamed in her face and pinched her cheeks, before running to his dorm and spamming your texts about how Jisoo is the cutest girl he’s ever seen and how his heart has never beaten as fast as it does around her. 

But now he’s standing there, with the love of his life right in front of him, and he feels… wrong. There’s murky puddles and soggy leaves surrounding his and Jisoo’s feet, an angry draft blows past his ears as he tries to read Jisoo’s lips, and a stifling blanket that’s the same dirty shade of grey as his dryer lint trap smothers him from overhead. Nothing feels right, he feels icky, and his heart is fluttering for all the wrong reasons. All he wants to do is run off into the sunset, and not with her.

He barely even hears her as the whole world moves in fast forward while he stands there completely still. And he doesn’t even remember what he says before he walks away, his shoulder brushing against Jisoo’s in the process. He doesn’t even turn back when he hears her call out to him multiple times. 

He’s sure that when he tells you his over-dramatised version of what he assumes was Jisoo’s confession, you’ll do your exaggerated laugh that makes you snort and then complain that you snorted. You’ll look at him in a way that screams ‘I told you so,’ and he hates it so much that he considers not telling you at all.

But even he knows he’s a blabbermouth and as soon as he lays his eyes on you, the words will fall out of his mouth before he even has a chance to think. 

So he goes to the nearest pizza place by your dorm, and he orders your usual: half cheese, half pepperoni. You’re too indecisive to pick just one, so you get both. He orders his own pizza too and he sits and waits, stripping himself of his scarf and his hat before shoving it into his backpack and playing around with his hair, trying to get it to look right before his order is called. 

When he’s finally outside your door, he doesn’t bother to knock—he walks straight in and calls out for you. You rush out of your room, an oversized hoodie covering your frame with your hood up. 

“Damn it, Hyun, can’t you call before you show up uninvited?” you huff, instantly eyeing up the pizzas. “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” 

Hyunjin shrugs. He knows there’s no way you’d be anywhere else. Your friends are his friends and they’re all in class or with their own significant others… not that that matters…

He hands you your own pizza and smiles at the way you smile when you fall onto the couch and stuff the first slice into your mouth. A muffled ‘thank you’ somehow escapes your lips. Gulping it down, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, causing Hyunjin to curl his lip in disgust.

“Why are you here, anyway?” you ask before tearing off another bite of pizza.

“No reason.” He’s trying his best to do a Mary-Kate and Ashley and keep his lips sealed, but it’s no use. 

You just blink at him until the dam finally bursts. 

“Jisoo confessed to me and I turned her down.”

Still blinking, you furrow your eyebrows as you look at him in confusion. “But… isn’t that what you wanted?” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on the pizza slice he’s playing with aimlessly instead of actually eating. He can’t even explain how he’s feeling. He wanted, no, dreamed of the perfect confession, and he blew his chance. Because of… bad vibes? How do you even explain that?

“I… I don’t know,” he mumbles. He sighs, dropping the pizza box on his lap as he throws his head back against the couch to look up at the ceiling. “It just…” He pauses. “It wasn’t what I thought it would be.” 

“Is a confession ever going to be perfect, though?”

Hyunjin sits up instantly at the question. The way he moves so suddenly makes you jump, but he doesn’t mean to scare you. He’s just very… passionate…  about the subject. ‘Passionate’ may not be enough to describe it.

“Of course it can be!” He has to stop himself from blabbing too much. He’s sure you’re tired of hearing his speeches about this, so he just gives you the short version. “It’s the biggest moment of any relationship! With the right person, it’s always going to be perfect. Like, you know in your heart when it’s right, and…” he sighs, “I didn’t feel that.” 

He looks at you, and you nod. “Then… maybe you didn’t like her as much as you thought you did?” 

Hyunjin falls against the couch again. His voice comes out as a whine this time, “But that was my last chance at a Christmas romance!” 

Is he being dramatic? Maybe a little, Hyunjin figures. He’s just lucky it’s you he’s ranting to, because the most you do in response to this is huff and give him a look. If it was one of mutual friends, they would have slapped some sense into him by now. Metaphorically, at least… hopefully.

“This isn’t your last chance at a Christmas romance, you know that right?” you say. “You’re acting like this is your last Christmas, period.” 

He sinks somehow further into the couch. “Okay, fine.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “My last college Christmas romance.” 

“You didn’t have one last year? Why does it matter now?” you ask, reaching once more for your pizza. 

“Because it’s our final year!! That’s kind of the point of it being the final chance, Y/N.” 

Hyunjin knows you mean well, but you rolling your eyes at him as you shove another bite into your mouth isn’t helping his plight. He can’t help but frown at you, though, not only because of your reaction, but now because you’re talking with your mouth full.

“Here’s an idea,” you gulp down some of the pizza stuffed in your cheeks, “just fake it till you make it. Get someone to fake date you.” 

It takes a second for Hyunjin to process what you say. But when he does, he gasps loudly and sits up even faster than last time. He turns and grabs hold of your shoulders so fast that it takes all of your force not to fall backwards.

“You’re a genius!”

You smirk, shrugging your shoulders. “I know. No need to remind me.” 

The look of disgust returns and Hyunjin slowly moves his hands away from your shoulders like you just infected him with something. “Don’t make me regret saying that.” 

“We both know it’s true, though.” 

“I hate you.” 

“I hate me too.” 

He ignores your self-degrading comment and sighs. His arms find their way to cross themselves over his chest once more and he thinks to himself for a minute. He has a world of possibilities at his fingertips, but he knows exactly what he wants to do. Just… he doesn’t know how to say it. Might as well just rip the bandaid.

“So when’s our first fake date?”

You cough out whatever pizza you had left in your mouth and it takes you a moment to catch your breath again. When you finally have a moment to breathe, you look at Hyunjin. “Our what?!” 

Hyunjin simply blinks at you. He just asked the most obvious question in the world, and you’re looking at him like you just asked him to solve a derivative. He doesn’t even remember what that is.

You motion for him to continue, but he’s still blinking. “What?” he says.

“When I suggested fake dating someone, I didn’t mean me!”

“Of course it has to be you!” he frantically tries to explain.  “I-I can’t just ask a random person to fake date me when I have no idea who they are!” 

“So you just assume I’d say ‘yes’?!” 

“Oh, come on, please!” he begs, actually getting down on the floor in front of you. He links his hands together as he whips out his best puppy dog eyes. 

He waits and goes still and keeps giving you that cartoonish pleading stare. Then, you sigh.

“I feel like I get nothing out of this. You get your fake Christmas romance and what do I get? A fake boyfriend I didn’t ask for?” 

He goes still again. He thinks hard about anything that will get you to agree. He’ll pull out the big guns, if he has to. And that’s what he does, and based on the terrified look on your face, he’s sure he has a crazed gleam in his eyes when he says it.

“I’ll never complain about not having or finding a Christmas romance again!” 

Hyunjin can’t believe he said that. You stare at him, he’s staring at you. He’s sure you don’t believe him.

“Come on!” he huffs. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“You can’t keep anything to yourself, you really believe you’d be able to keep that?” 

Hyunjin nods frantically.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he hears you mutter before looking him in the eyes. “Fine. I’ll do it.” 

Hyunjin’s up in another flash, pushing you with all his weight against the couch as he hugs you even tighter. 

“THANK YOU!! You’re the best!!” 

And in the next moment, he’s standing, his hand out for you to take. “Let's go!” A confident beam is plastered on his face. He can’t say the same for you.

“Huh?”

You just keep staring at his outstretched hand. Knowing you’re not going to move, Hyunjin just huffs and grabs your hand, pulling you to the front door.

“On our first date, decorating your dorm!!” 

“HUH?!”

—

As you walk through the store, Hyunjin has his fingers entwined with yours so tightly that you almost think he’s cutting off blood flow. It’s almost as if he was afraid you’d change your mind and disappear if he let go. 

He beelines towards the Christmas decorations. You don’t know why he insisted on buying more when you still have the stuff that he made you get last year—you just forgot where you put it. But you live in a tiny college dorm, so it’s not like you had many places to look.

It’s whatever, you guess. You don't bother to question what’s going through his mind right now. It won’t end well if you do.

Hyunjin’s other hand is pushing an extra large cart you're sure you don’t need, but he got it anyway. He can’t possibly be thinking of filling up the whole cart, can he? You live in a college dormitory. Only so much can fit.

After what seems like a lifetime, you’re both in front of the Christmas decorations. With his hand still stuck to yours like glue, he starts to examine each set of decorations with his other hand, holding it up close to his eyes as if he doesn’t have perfect vision. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Checking,” he mutters, placing a box of lights back down on the shelf before picking up another one.

“Checking for…?” 

He huffs, drops his shoulders, and stares at you with nothing behind his eyes. “The perfect lights. They shouldn’t be broken and we need to know they’ll shine bright enough.” 

“They’re lights, Hyun,” you respond simply. “It doesn’t matter if they’re perfect or not.” 

Pushing your lips into a line, you stare at each other in silence for a moment or two—honestly, you’re not too sure how long the moment actually is. Hyunjin just looks away, placing the box of lights back onto the shelf. 

“You’re relying too much on everything being perfect.” 

You feel the way his grip tightens around your hand. He stays silent, picking up another box of lights before placing them in the shopping cart. “These are perfect,” he says, ignoring your words. “We should get these.” 

He pushes the cart further down whilst dragging you along in the process. Picks up another set of lights, checks them, and puts them down, before repeating this a few times before he’s happy with the one he’s decided on. He does this for many of the tinsel, for some random ornaments, and for random chocolates and candy canes to hang on the tree. 

You’re fiddling on your phone when he tugs on your hand, causing you to look up at him. In his free hand are two mini stuffed animal ornaments. He’s gazing at them with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place.

“It’s us.” His eyes find yours. There’s a softness to his voice that compliments the warm smile he gives you. “We should get them… they’re perfect.” 

This time, you squeeze his hand back. His smile infects you, and you’re unable to do anything but return it. Nodding, you return your gaze back to the two little stuffed ornaments. “They are perfect… like us.” 

“There’s that smile I missed so much!” he says sarcastically.

“Aaaand moment ruined.”

You tug at his hand, trying to get them to finally unlink. The sweat forming in between them is getting a bit much. 

“You can’t escape from me that easily,” Hyunjin says with a smoulder.

“Ew,” you fake gag. “You’ve been hanging out with Jisung too much. Only he makes the fuckboy thing work, bestie.” 

“Bestie- zoned?” Hyunjin gasps, his over-dramatic look you’re so accustomed to taking over his features. “I thought I was your boyfriend?” 

Your smile drops and you want to smack him and his teasing into next week. “FAKE boyfriend.” 

He turns from you as he hisses to you or himself—you’re not really sure which—before he pulls you further down the aisle. 

“You’re no fun.”

two.

– november 3rd.

Looking around your dorm makes you want to throw up. 

After Hyunjin took you (read: dragged you) shopping the other day, the boy immediately took the bags of stuff to your dorm and started plastering the stuff everywhere. Now, the room is filled to the brim with golden lights and colourful tinsel, and your little desk tree was just as flashy. Considering that your space is a tiny college dorm, it makes the space feel a bit suffocating, but not unenjoyable.

You fear Hyunjin took “deck the halls” a little too far and that your dorm will catch on fire because of it, not just because of the three separate Christmas candles Hyunjin insisted on buying, but also because of how dangerously close they were to the tinsel. You wonder what your roommate, Yeri, would say about this. Actually, you’re not entirely sure when you last saw her.

You aren’t able to dwell much longer on the thought as a knock followed by a crash and yelp pulls you out of your own head. You hurry to the door and open it to find none other than your Christmas menace, Hyunjin, sprawled on his butt in front of you. Bags with what appear to be baking ingredients are spread all over the ground around him. 

“Hey~” is the only thing he says, a sheepish smile on his face, as you stare at him incredulously. 

“What’s all this?”

“It’s…” he starts as you help him up, then trails off once he’s upright. He bends down to pick up a bag of chocolate chips by his feet, then he looks at you and holds them out proudly. “…Our next date!”

You roll your eyes fondly at the boy. Of course, he already thought up a second date idea so soon. Knowing him, he’s probably been planning this since he got home after the first date.

But still, you can’t help but crack a smile. Baking cookies seems like a fun little fake date—after all, it’s hard to make Christmas cookies into some sappy Hallmark scene. Plus, you get to keep half the batch at the end.

What could go wrong?

As you help pick up the rest of the ingredients off the floor, you notice a neatly folded piece of paper fall out of Hyunjin’s pocket. You stick it in your pocket before placing a milk carton and a brown sugar pack on the kitchen island, then you take out and unfold the paper, squinting as you read it.

“Is this… Felix’s recipe?” you say. The distinct way he loops his ‘Y’s gives it away for you.

“N… No…” Hyunjin tries to convince you, but his statement comes out as more of a question than a definitive answer.

You give him another incredulous look.

“Okay, fine, it is!” he huffs, throwing his head back dramatically. “I begged him for the recipe so we could try to make it together. His cookies always come out great, so it can’t be that hard!” He grins confidently, but that facade quickly fades. “…Right?”

A smile returns to your lips. “Right! Yeah!” You’re afraid your smile looks more nervous than confident, though. “Totally…”

“We can do it! I think…”

Hyunjin laughs a little, and you follow too, even if it feels somewhat forced.

“And if we fail, we’ll just get the store-bought ones!” he adds. “Easy as pie.” A small smile dances on his lips. “Anything for my favourite girlfriend~” he sings, winking at you playfully.

Any hint of your smile, real or not, drops at the sentence.

“Fake girlfriend.”

“Potayto, potahto. Now help me with the batter.”

…

“Are you sure you’re doing this right?” you say.

Instead of jumping into baking right away, you and Hyunjin have spent the past ten minutes overwhelmed over the instructions Felix provided. It’s not that they’re difficult or anything—fifteen steps to make some cookies just feels like a lot. 

Especially to two beginners, one of which is struggling to cut a one-pound stick of butter in half with a cleaver. You’re left to watch Hyunjin nearly slice his fingers as he tries, a near-grimace twisted on your face.

“I got it, I got it!” Hyunjin grunts as he tries to push the cleaver down.  “Almost… there…”

The way his fingers are so dangerously close to the blade makes you wince. After another moment, you can’t take watching him anymore.

“Oh my god, give me the knife.”

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to shoo Hyunjin away from the cleaver while he’s holding it for dear life. Knowing him, he could’ve found a way to cut himself even after he let go. Luckily, you both remain unscathed and you successfully cut the butter in half.

“What’s next?” Hyunjin asks as he watches you cut one of the halves. He peeks at the recipe over your shoulder.

You scan the paper for the next step, moving it quickly so he can see, too. “Looks like the… dry ingredients? We can start with the flour, I guess.”

“Flour…”

Hyunjin hums along with “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande as he digs through the ingredient pile on the island. You glance up and find yourself giggling at the silly hand gestures he makes.

“Flour coming right…” he announces, letting out a grunt as he lifts the giant bag, “…up!”

You set the cleaver aside and rush to help him carry the bag. “Why’d you buy the ten kilogram bag?!”

“I didn’t know how much we needed!” He lets out a dramatic huff once you both get the bag on a stool.

“I’m pretty sure a normal-sized bag would have been enough, Hyun.”

“Look,” Hyunjin huffs again and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ve learned from Felix, alright? This is serious cookie and movie date business and we can’t make mistakes.” 

Fake cookie date.

“But there’s going to be mistakes, that’s just how it is.” You shrug, carefully opening the bag, then letting out a sigh as a lump of flour falls out onto the floor. “Just think, Felix’s recipes weren’t perfect straight away—” 

Hyunjin cuts you off with a gasp. A hand flies over his heart as he stares at you with betrayal. “Excuse you, they’ve always been great. You’re lucky I wouldn’t tell him you said that.”

You decide not to say anything else, but get the flour ready to sieve into the mixture. “Do you want to do this or I?” 

Even though he still has too much energy, he gently pushes you out of the way and takes the sieve from your hands. “Me, me, me.” 

Without bothering to do anything else, he takes a handful of flour and dumps it into a sieve and starts tapping at the side of it. 

“Hyunjin!” you gasp, “We could at least measure it first!” 

“Live a little, Y/N!” Hyunjin sways to the music. “You said nothing has to be perfect right away! I’m trying to follow your advice.” 

You blink, half-laughing, half-scoffing. “I didn’t mean to not follow the recipe! We still have to, you know.”

Hyunjin doesn’t say anymore, he just continues to sieve the flour into the bowl. However, by the bridge of the song, he’s so into it that he’s nearly forgotten what he’s doing. While he goes on autopilot, the flour soon enough misses the bowl entirely and lands on the kitchen counter and over his shoes. 

“Oops,” he giggles. 

“I’m baking with a child,” you mutter to yourself, arms crossed over your chest. 

He picks up another handful of the flour and looks down at the mixture before looking over at you. He stares at you, you stare at him. It’s like a silent battle. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

He does dare. However, instead of throwing it at you, he throws it up; and instead of landing on you directly, it falls lightly to the floor, just barely falling into your socks. He grins and a giggle escapes his lips. 

Whatever self-control you have leaves you at that moment and you grab your own handful of flour. As you step forward, he steps back, causing you to raise an eyebrow. 

“You’re not scared… are you?” you question.

He scoffs. “Me? Scared?” He fakes a cackle. “Never!” 

You take another step forward. He takes another back. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if I—” 

Rushing forward, you push your hand into his cheek, letting the flour fall from your hand and over him. Some of the remnants left on his cheek fall as he huffs. 

“That’s it.” He grabs another scoop. “You’re on.” 

You have exactly two seconds to decide what to do before Hyunjin stalks toward you, a mischievous grin on his face and handful of flour held high. You turn and start to scramble away from him right as he pounces, trying to grab you so he can dump the flour on your head.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” He giggles tauntingly. “Don’t you want a hug from your loving boyfriend~?” 

“Fake boyfriend!” you call over your shoulder.

Trying desperately not to trip, you make a mad dash for the living room, Hyunjin’s cackles ring in your ears as he bounds closer. You get two more big steps in and just as you’re about to leap for the couch, a strong arm wraps itself around your middle and pulls you back. 

“Got you~” Hyunjin’s voice is right next to your ear and you can practically hear him smirking in victory. You wriggle around, trying to free yourself but it’s to no avail. 

You’re able to turn just enough to face him and send him the glare he deserves. He just faces you, narrowing his eyes for a second, then that look falls to a more disapproving one.

“Are you ready to follow the recipe now?” the boy asks sassily.

You want to smack his pretty face so bad.

“I hate you.”

…

Surprisingly, Hyunjin keeps his word and actually follows Felix’s recipe, word-for-word. You’re happy with how the balls of cookie dough turned out, even though you just placed them in the oven—and don’t tell Hyunjin, but you ate a bit of the dough. It’s too good.

“And now we wait twelve minutes,” you declare as you start a timer on your phone. You leave it on the island and head over to the living room.

You watch, baffled, as Hyunjin spreads out tattered-looking physical copies of a bunch of Christmas movies over your coffee table. Once they’ve landed in a heap, he turns back and looks at you, the same way a dog does when it thinks it's done something incredible. 

To say you’re confused as to why he brought over DVDs when you could just rent the movies online is an understatement. Especially when he knew full well that you somehow had access to Chan’s Netflix account—you hacked it, but is it really hacking when his password is ilovefelix143?

Hyunjin’s eyebrows basically merge. Instead of being a little happy puppy, he’s now like a puppy with his tail stuck between his legs. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Your eyes shift from him to the movies and back.

“You…” sigh. “You know we have Netflix, right?” 

“That’s not the same thing,” he whines. “And you know it! The vibe will be totally off if we watch them all on Netflix!”

You might as well be a fan of BlackPink because all you can do is blink. “And it won’t be if we watch them on DVD?” 

Rising his fist, Hyunjin grabs your shoulder to shake you lightly. As you attempt to push him away, his grip somehow gets tighter. 

“Just pick,” shake. “one to,” he tugs your arm. “ start with!” 

“Alright!” You huff, flailing your arms around to finally get him to drop his grip. You point in a random direction. “That one!” 

It’s his turn to blink. “You’re not pointing at shit and you know it.” 

…

With a movie finally picked out, the title screen theme of The Muppets’ Christmas Carol begins to repeat as Hyunjin is in the kitchen getting the cookies out of the oven. However, after the fifth repeat, you’re ready to pull your hair strand by strand from your head. 

“Are you almost ready?!” you call out to him. “This music is driving me insane!”

Part of you wants to complain more, but you bite your tongue. It could’ve been worse—it could’ve been the theme of When Harry Met Sally on repeat.

Hyunjin appears at the door, tray in hand. “You can’t really go mad if you’re already there.” 

If it wasn’t a threat to the precious cookies currently residing in the tray in his hands, you would have thrown every pillow on this couch at him. 

“You say I’m mean to you, but then this is how you treat me!” You gasp, watching as he rolls his eyes.

You catch the way his lip turns up into a smirk when he sets down the tray of cookies on the coffee table. 

“I’m so sorry my precious girlfriend, whom I care so deeply about, how can I ever repay you?”  

It’s go time. Grabbing the pillow, you aim and whack him over and over as he falls onto the couch, his arms up in protest, but his laughter is still loud enough to seep into your ears. “Not the face! I’m too beautiful to die this young!” 

“I,” whack. “hate,” you huff and raise the pillow above your head. “you,” whack. “so much!” 

He somehow grabs the pillow, pulling it towards him. But with his strength, he accidentally pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto his chest. Like on instinct, his arms wrap around you tightly to stop you from falling off of the couch. 

You feel his breath on your ear as he lets out a chuckle and it makes a tingle run up your spine.

“I know you love me.” 

You’re up in a flash, using all of your strength to push him off of the couch and onto the floor. 

“AHH!!!”

You snicker at the loud shriek Hyunjin makes. Plopping your bum on the couch, you shoot your fake boyfriend a petty stare as you reach for a cookie and, very slowly, take a huge bite.

Holy shit. You’ve never tasted a cookie so good before. The way the gooey, melty goodness dances in your mouth is so addictive, you barely notice Hyunjin giving you a death glare from the floor.

“What?” you say with your mouth full, reaching for the remote.

“That’s supposed to be our batch,” he sneers nasally, as if he’s Squidward himself. You try not to spit out the food in your mouth.

“Not anymore.” You point the remote at the TV and hit ‘play’. “You can get the next batch.”

three.

– november 10th.

“Can we let go for a bit?” you mumble, causing Hyunjin to look at you. “My hand is getting sweaty.” 

“Oh, sorry,” Hyjnjin gasps, looking down at your hands. He lets go and rubs his palm against his jeans to wipe off the stickiness that has formed.

“Why are we holding hands so early, anyway?” you ask. “I know we’re telling the guys we’re ‘dating’ today, but they’re not even here yet.” 

Hyunjin blinks at you, takes your hand again, and entwines your fingers. “Because we have to make it look believable from a distance.” 

You try not to laugh. “You think they’ll even notice if we’re holding hands?”

He shrugs, locking eyes with the student worker that’s staring in your general direction. He attempts to follow their gaze. It seems like they’re looking at his and your hands. They could also just be waiting for the microwave oven to ding so they can serve someone their bagel. You never know, though.

“I mean,” he gestures to the cafe worker, “if that person notices, then our friends probably will.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think that person cares.”

“For Hyunjin?” another cafe worker calls.

With your hand still in his, Hyunjin gently pulls you with him to pick up a freshly-made sandwich for you, and bagel for him. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ before grabbing some napkins and heading for the seating area, scooting past students to the table for four he set his backpack on to call dibs. When the college cafe is always packed for lunch, claiming a table was more than necessary.

Hyunjin presses a finger to his chin as he thinks of where to sit, which chair will allow him optimal coupley vibes. After a moment of contemplation, he chooses one of the seats right by the window.

This prompts you to move to the one opposite of him. But before you can sit down, Hyunjin reaches across the table to grab your wrist.

“No! Sit on this side,” he says, gently tugging your arm.

“Why?”

“I told you, we have to make it believable! Remember?”

It’s a perfect plan. If Hyunjin acts as utterly sappy as possible, his and your friends will surely fall for it. What better way to scream ‘lovesick college couple’ than to sit on the same side of the table together? 

Also, how do you hold hands with someone who’s sitting across from you? Spoiler: you don’t.

But for now, you both eat. You plop down on the chair next to Hyunjin, albeit begrudgingly at first, and you end up finishing your sandwich fairly quickly. Hyunjin, however, takes his time. Not because he’s not hungry—he’s starving. But having half a bagel to work his way through is good in case things get awkward later on.

See? Perfect.

Soon enough, Hyunjin catches two familiar heads enter the cafe. He reaches for your hand under the table, lacing his fingers with yours when you take his hand with a sigh. He even considers subtly scooting his chair over to be even closer to you. Something in the dark crevices of his mind keeps begging him to do it. He’s not even sure why, but he scolds at that voice to wait a moment.

His eyes carefully follow Changbin and Jisung as they get out of line. They both wave at him, and he awkwardly waves back before they turn to each other.

After what feels like an eternity, Changbin steps up to the counter to grab two bagels. Then he follows Jisung to your table.

“What’s up, sweetcheeks?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin glances at you and when you look back, you make an expression as if to tell him ‘go on then’. Hyunjin however, decides against that, turning his attention back to the two boys sitting across from them. 

Changbin’s already stuck half of the bagel in his mouth to the point he’s struggling to chew. It’s disgusting, but for some reason it keeps Hyunjin in a trance. When that trance is broken by you swiftly jabbing him in the rib, he winces, glares at you, and looks back over the table. 

“About that,” Hyunjin laughs awkwardly. If he wasn’t already holding your hand, he would have gone for it to try and calm his nerves. 

“What is it?” Jisung asks, ripping a piece of his bagel off and chucking it into his mouth. “You two finally shacking up?” 

Hyunjin sits there stunned, only listening as you groan in disgust. 

“What is wrong with you?” you say.

Jisung smiles and sends a wink to you before leaning back in his seat. “It’s just my talent, baby.” 

Hyunjin keeps his eyes locked on his bag. This is fake, he repeats in his mind after the word ‘baby’ is uttered from Jisung’s lips. Why does it bother him so much? It shouldn’t bother him—it never has before. This isn’t real. It’s just a simple word Jisung has used to refer to literally everyone in your friend group. Hyunjin’s heard worse come from the boy’s mouth. ‘Sweetcheeks’, ‘’bubby wubby’, schmoopy poopy poo’... all Jisung said this time was ‘baby.’

This is fake.

Hyunjin feels you squeeze his hand. He squeezes it back as he finally looks up. You’re looking at him with your eyebrows furrowed, silently asking him what’s wrong.

This isn’t real…

Now his heart burns. He decides to blame it on too much cream cheese on his bagel. 

“What did you want to tell us?” Changbin tries to say as he gulps down his bagel before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Hyunjin glances over at you, and then back to his friends. He raises your enjoined hands. 

“So… we’re dating!” 

Changbin nearly chokes on his bagel at Hyunjin’s words. He looks up slowly, following your and Hyunjin’s arms up to where your hands meet, and he nods once. “Oh. Well, damn.”

Jisung, on the other hand, takes a moment longer to process the news. But when he does, his jaw slowly drops and he takes in a sharp breath. “Oh. My. GO—”

“Yah, shut up!” Hyunjin leans over across the table to slap a hand over Jisung’s mouth.

“…God,” the younger boy finishes his sentence quietly, his voice muffled.

Hyunjin maintains his stare at the younger boy as he slowly begins to pull back. No more screaming, he begs. He’s had enough of it for the rest of the year.

A tension hangs in the air around the four of them. Changbin goes back to carelessly munching on his bagel, and Jisung is gazing at Hyunjin and you, his very fake girlfriend, with an almost-maniacal smile.

“Soooo…” Jisung starts after a minute. Hyunjin can literally feel him gleefully kicking his legs under the table. “Who confessed first?”

Hyunjin pales at the question. He forgot to go over a cover story with you.

Luckily, before he can struggle to give an answer, Changbin swoops in and unknowingly buys him some time.

“Why are you the one who’s happy?” he questions. “I’m the one who won the bet!”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen. “You guys bet on us?!”

“We all did,” Changbin says. “Now Jisung owes half our group ten dollars each.”

“Wait, but we still don’t know who confessed first!” Jisung says.

“Why is that important?” Hyunjin says.

“‘Cause it was part of the bet, too!” 

Hyunjin stills again and looks at you helplessly. He squeezes your hand as if to signal that he needs you to come up with something, and fast. Something about how he had the most magical confession to end all confessions during the first snow that didn’t even happen yet this year.

“I-It was me,” you finally say.

Hyunjin has to stop himself from looking at you in surprise.

Jisung gasps loudly again. He’s so wholly entranced, Hyunjin doesn’t know how lucky he should consider himself for it. “Really?” 

Hyunjin watches as you clear your throat before nodding. You smile in a way that he swears he’s never seen before. You tilt your head and break your eye contact with Jisung to look over at him, then you look back at Jisung. 

“You expect him to confess?” You giggle lightly, gesturing to Hyunjin. “All he talks about is how he wants someone to confess to him.”

The two boys across from them are just nodding in agreement. That is true, Hyunjin thinks. He’s probably been talking about that since he started college, maybe even before. He can’t really describe the feelings that come from somebody confessing their feelings to you. 

“And…” you continue, “after the failed confession with Jisoo, I realised I should take it as a sign to confess.” 

You’re smiling to yourself as you shrug your shoulders, keeping your eyes down on the table. Hyunjin has never seen you act—and act this well. Jisung and Changbin are totally hooked, nodding along to everything you’re saying. They’re like two little children listening to a bedtime story doing everything they can to stay awake. You’ve got them wrapped around your pinky finger.

Hyunjin’s gaze focuses on your hand in his. He brings them to his lap and begins to play with your fingers, letting your words between the boys fade into the background. His mind is still lingering around the thoughts of Jisoo and the failed confession. 

He still isn’t completely sure what happened there. Why his crush, whom he was sure he was in love with, faded so quickly and so suddenly. He never thought falling out of like—or love—with someone could be that easy… but if he thought about it too much, he’d probably worry about the possibility of love. He decides that’s not a thought for now. 

“Woah,” Jisung says, his mouth hanging open. “That’s crazy.”

“That means you owe us another five dollars, genius,” Changbin says.

Jisung quickly turns to Changbin. “Let me grieve for my wallet first!” Hyunjin watches as Jisung rests his head in his hands in despair. 

“Why would you even bet on Hyunjin confessing first?” You can’t help but laugh. “You set yourself up for failure.” 

“Because maybe I had faith in him!!” Jisung exclaims, looking up at you. “I thought he’d have it in him!”

You glance at Hyunjin, smile sheepishly, and look back at the two boys that sit across the table from you.

“Well you should have known him better.”

“Ooookay,” Hyunjin says, suddenly moving to stand. “We, um, we gotta get going.” He turns to you, hoping you get the message. “Right, Y/N?”

You nod quickly and stand up too. “Yeah, we were gonna have a study date together,” you say as you gather your things.

“Okay, have fun,” Changbin says coolly.

“But we were just getting started!” Jisung counters.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh. “We’ll tell you guys everything tomorrow, okay?”

Jisung’s eyes narrow and he raises an eyebrow. The way he’s staring Hyunjin down is making him want to shrink up and hide. 

After a moment of awkwardness on Hyunjin’s part, Jisung opens his mouth to speak. 

“Tell us everything?” 

“Define ‘everything’, Ji,” you respond before Hyunjin has the chance to. 

“Everything means everything,” Jisung drawls out. “Like, come on guys, give us the details! The nitty gritty of it all!” He’s now leaning over the table as he pleads. “I just wanna know all about my two best friends’ relationship! Is that so weird?!” 

You share a look with Hyunjin. You’re giggling, rolling your eyes as you look back over at the boy. “Find your own girlfriend, Ji, don’t live through our relationship.” 

Jisung huffs, falling back into his chair with his arms crossed. “You guys are no fun.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, and you both wave at the two boys. Changbin happily responds and Jisung, still grumpy, begrudgingly waves back. 

Luckily, this seems to be enough for you and Hyunjin to leave. Hyunjin swings your hands lightly, fingers still entwined, as the cafe door shuts behind you with a small squeak. 

There is no study date. There wasn’t really any regular ‘date’ planned—not unless the confessing? lying? to your friends counts. 

Regardless, you and Hyunjin look at each other and silently agree. You both deserve a sweet treat after that.

four.

– november 17th.

You wouldn’t dare tell Hyunjin, but once he told you about his “fantastical Friday date idea” earlier this afternoon, you’ve been feeling like a bottle of Coke about to explode.

Sure, he’s been a little crazy about hitting all the stereotypical Christmas romance activities, but this is ice skating! It’s fun and it’s romantic enough to scratch Hyunjin’s itch, but not too romantic. You’re only fake-boyfriend and fake-girlfriend, after all.

“Y/N?”

Hyunjin waves a hand in front of your face, bringing you out of your daze. You must have been staring at the fake icicles for too long.

“Huh? Yeah?” you say, blinking a few times.

He holds up two pairs of rental ice skates, one for you and one for him. “I already paid, let’s go put these on.”

You wander over to the benches where other skaters are lacing up. They make it look so effortless, but you and Hyunjin keep getting your fingers tangled in the long laces. And every time you attempt to stand up, your ankles feel so wobbly that you have to sit back down and tighten them. 

Eventually, your skates feel secure enough that you don’t wobble too much when you do make it to your feet. You look over at Hyunjin, who doesn’t look like he’s faring any better than you. 

“Do you think you can get up?” you ask. You’re starting to figure out how to balance, but you hold on to the edge of a table just in case.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin hums confidently. However, the deer-in-headlights look on his face as he slowly lifts his bum off the bench says otherwise. You’d laugh at him more than you already are if you didn’t do the same.

“Are you sure you can get up?”

“Totally!”

As if to prove you wrong, Hyunjin slowly begins to stand up. When he’s upright, he lifts one hand off the bench, then the other. Then he slowly shuffles one foot after the other in the direction of the rink, until he loses balance and nearly falls into the splits.

You try not to snort at his cry that echoes throughout the rink. Of course, you do the same as you try to follow him and your dear best friend returns the favour.

“HAH! Karma!” Hyunjin points and laughs at you before slipping and falling on his back.

“Hyunjin!” you exclaim, shuffling over to help him up.

“I’m fine!” he tries to reassure you once he’s upright again. He reaches for your hand as he waddles his way to the rink, this time successfully, and with you in tow.

You let out the breath you’re holding once your other hand finds the edge of the wall. Maybe you came into the rink too cocky, or maybe the old couple doing laps around you and Hyunjin made this look easy.

After you recenter yourself—well, after trying to—you look at Hyunjin, who has a death grip on your hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” The boy smiles. “Very fine!” He slowly lets go of your hand, attempting to get away from the wall. He’s successful for a few seconds, then he finds himself wobbling again and he quickly grabs onto your arm.

Giggling, you try to shake him off. “Hyun, you’re gonna make me fall, too!”

He doesn’t respond for a beat. When you turn to look back at him, his legs are shaking, but he’s got a stupid smirk plastered on his face. Even when he’s visibly struggling, of course he has to do this.

“Oh, am I?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, fuck off.”

You try to free your hand again. Somehow, his grip gets even tighter, and he manages to slide his hand down your arm and thread his fingers with yours.

“You’re gonna be wishing you’re holding my hand soon enough,” Hyunjin muses.

“Whatever you say, fake boyfriend,” you sigh sarcastically.

The old couple passes you by again; they seem to be out-skating every couple on the ice by this point. As they go in circles together, they show off their best disco moves as if they were on roller skates instead. The old man, as he swings past you two a second time, makes a heart with his hands behind the old woman, pumping it in the air to the beat of “Mistletoe” by Justin Bieber as his wife continues to dance.

You don’t look back at Hyunjin, but you can imagine the stars in his eyes as he watches them. Instead, you pay attention to the way they move their feet. Push out with your right foot, then with your left. Right, left, right, left. With Hyunjin still gripping on tightly to your hand, you attempt to copy it.

“H-Hey!” Hyunjin squeaks from behind you. “What are you doing?!”

“Trying to get off the wall!” you say. You turn your head to look at him briefly. “You want to be a cute fake couple like those two,” you gesture to the old couple, “right?”

He stumbles over a ‘maybe’, but there’s no denying the way he wistfully watches the old man carefully spin the old woman.

You smile fondly. “Then come on. Watch how they move and try to do the same.”

It takes several laps and several more minutes to get into a rhythm. You can’t say that you’re gliding across the ice, but you’re holding your own without clinging to the wall. Barely. Hyunjin, on the other hand, suddenly seems like a natural. His graceful strides make you question if he was feigning clumsiness half an hour ago, or if he was just that good.

You try to catch up to him as you both make a turn and he looks back to check on you. He smiles at you and holds up a peace sign, flashing you a wink—and you freeze. You were already using all your brainpower to remember to keep moving your feet, and just like that, you forget everything you’re doing.

By the time you snap out of your daze, you’re about to crash into Hyunjin. You yelp, flailing as you try to brake. Hyunjin tries to catch you before you fall flat on your face, but you end up pulling him down with you and falling backwards.

Then you realise the position you’re both in. You’re on your back, and Hyunjin is half on top of you. You’re trying to catch your breath, but the way he tries to prop himself up with his elbows somehow sucks the air out of your lungs all over again.

“Hyun, slow down,” you say as he almost slips again. You catch his arms in yours and lose your breath for a third time. “One foot at a time, okay?”

You swear Hyunjin spaces out as you speak—there’s a gleam in his eyes you can’t quite place. But the gleam goes away just as quickly as it came, and he begins to regain his balance enough to stand up.

He holds out his hands for you and you grab on. He then slowly pulls, allowing you to find a way to get up with a pair of blades on your feet.

When you’re nearly upright, you take a wrong step and feel yourself flying backwards. You flail your arms as you try to prepare to land, but you feel Hyunjin’s arm wrap around your waist and pull you in just in time.

For a second, you feel like you’re in a cheesy Disney movie. The moment happened so fast, but feels so slow in hindsight. Now you’re here, your jaw dropped open in surprise, as your hands find their way to Hyunjin’s shoulders. Is this how Cinderella or something felt—

Wait, what the fuck?

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin says. His eyes search yours for any sign of hurt.

You take a beat to respond, nodding rapidly. “Y-Yeah, I’m okay.”

Hyunjin nods once. “Oookay. Do you wanna keep going?”

Right there, you contemplate just packing up and going back to your dorm. Even though the only one staring at you is Hyunjin, it feels like a thousand pairs of eyes are boring into your soul.

However, something in your heart, or maybe your brain, begs you to stay. So you nod.

five.

– november 20th.

Hyunjin stands and leans against the stairrail by the front of the university library. He’s too busy fiddling with his perfectly curated Christmas playlist, fall in love with me (this christmas), to even notice you pull up in your car. So when you honk the horn, he yelps and falls on his butt, then down a couple stairs, before sending daggers your way.

He watches as your passenger side window rolls down slowly and your shit-eating grin becomes clear from behind it. 

“You ready to go?” you ask.

Hyunjin, still glaring at you, slowly nods his head in response. 

“Then get off your ass!” you say. “You’re the one that wanted to go to this!”

He gets up with a dramatic huff and drags himself to the passenger seat of the car. The second he hops in, he leans forward and grabs your aux cord, plugging it into his phone and unlocks his phone, once again showing the Christmas playlist.

Meanwhile, you watch him in amusement. “You want aux?”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes at your sarcasm. But he answers regardless, too excited about the idea of a Christmas tree farm date. Another thing from his bucket list of Christmas dates to check off.

“Of course I want aux!” 

Clicking shuffle, he cheers to himself when the mystical violin intro of “Christmas Tree Farm" by Taylor Swift begins to play. Clicking twice to make the song repeat, he locks his phone before placing it in one of the free cup holders. 

“This is perfect!” He claps to himself, swaying the best he can to the music as he fastens his seat belt. “🎶And I’m somewhere else… just like magic… 🎶”  he sings along.

He looks over at you and you’re watching him again. This time he can’t tell if it’s in amusement or bafflement. “Can we go now?” 

Hyunjin nods, leaning back into his seat with a content smile. “You could’ve started when I got into the car.”

He lets his gaze linger on you for a second. When you look at him, he quickly looks away. Maybe he’s too impatient, but when he looks back at you a moment later to see if you have finally turned your focus to the road in front of you, you’re still staring right at him.

His cheeks begin to feel warm. Your gaze is practically peering into his soul, and you have your heater on full blast—it feels like a sauna in here. It’s not his fault you get cold so easily. It’s also not his fault a little voice in his head is telling him to use it as an excuse to be near you…

No. Bad Hyunjin.

He quickly shoves the thought away into a neat little box, something future Hyunjin will have to deal with. Right now, all present-day Hyunjin cares about is Miss Swift playing through the speakers.

And so he starts humming, which soon turns to quiet singing. Soon enough, the quiet singing soon turns into full-blown yelling of the lyrics. He’s here for the vibe, and the vibe is immaculate. 

“🎶AND YOU WOULD BE THERE TOOOO~!!🎶”

Good Hyunjin!

“Hyun, shut up! I can’t see the road!” you shout, your voice carrying over the music.

Hyunjin throws his head back in feigned agony. “Okayyy, okay!” he groans before bringing it down to quiet singing for the rest of the song.

When the music fades out, it’s silent for a moment. Hyunjin feels his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiling. When it starts again, he bounces in his seat.

“Again?” you question, bringing his attention back to you. “Can’t we go to the next song?” 

He gasps and shakes his head. “Nuh-uh! It’s for the vibe, Y/N!” He nods slowly to emphasise his point. “The vibe!” 

You nod, your face full of confusion. “And the vibe is…?”

“That we’re literally going to a Christmas tree farm! Do you know how exciting that is?!” Hyunjin turns right to you as you pull up to a stop sign. He almost gets lost in your eyes when you look back at him. “It’s one of the key Christmas dates in the movies! And there’s a whole song about it!” He lets himself ramble on for a minute, trying not to get too lost in his fantasies. Despite his efforts, he soon feels himself about to spiral…

Then you look away.

Hyunjin lets out a sigh as he glances over at you. You’re focused on the road, your eyes flickering around as you wait for a good time to merge lanes. He knows that you only looked away to continue driving, but deep down, he fears that he pushed you away with his babbling.

He just looks down at his lap before he speaks, his voice trembling slightly. “Look, I… I know you hate Christmas, but—” 

“I don’t hate Christmas…” 

Hyunjin is surprised he can hear you with how quietly you’re talking.

“I…” You sigh. “I just don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with this ‘Christmas romance’ thing. Like, what makes it more special than a romance-romance?” 

“Because…” He takes a breath before releasing it. “Christmas is magical.” 

The song ends. He reaches for his phone and his finger hovers over the pause button.

“Hyunnie, you don’t need to stop the—”

He stops the music, ignoring the sigh you let out when you do.

“It’s just…” he starts, then trails off. “I…”

A beat of silence.

“You…?”

Hyunjin looks at you, trying to read your reaction. It’s hard to tell if your furrowed brow is from concentration or confusion.

“Like…” he starts again, then he sighs.

How would he even begin to explain that the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets from Christmas, is one he’s only ever experienced secondhand? How is he supposed to tell you that he hopelessly projects onto an array of chiselled brunet men in cheesy holiday movies without sounding insane? That he dreams of taking walks in the snow and under the Christmas lights and in Christmas tree farms with someone, like all the male leads on the Hallmark channel seem to do? Will it seem naive? Or childish?

At the same time, though, if all these ordinary guys can find love without even trying… who’s to say he can’t, too?

“It’s… like… why wouldn’t you want that, you know?”

But of course, Hyunjin’s feelings are so grand that he can’t find the words to explain it.

You let out a sigh again, a more sympathetic one this time. “I… I guess? I…”

Hyunjin watches you carefully as you find your words. He realises, a few moments later, that he’s holding his breath. Why is he holding his breath? It’s as if this is a big deal. But it’s not. It’s just you.

You shrug, and something in him twists. “I– I don’t know. I just… I can’t see it for myself.”

A thick silence hangs in the air. It seems to taunt Hyunjin, pointing and laughing at him like the playground bully for even daring to open his mouth. He bites his tongue for another moment or two, thinking of a way to lessen the tension. But after that, he can’t bear the silence anymore. 

The song begins again. Maybe he was right to feel like a child.

…

By the time you park, the mood inside the car is much colder than the weather outside it. Hyunjin shuts the door behind him and lets it slam, even though he knows you’ll be annoyed about it. He shoves his hands inside his jacket pockets and hides himself the best he can in the collar of his coat. 

In a moment, you’re next to him. Your own hands in your pockets as you silently glaze over the mass of trees that seem to go on for miles. You both stand there for an uncertain amount of time, just utterly blown away by the amount of Christmas trees.

In the corner of his eye, Hyunjin notices you hold out your hand in front of him and leave it there. He stares at it wordlessly, and after a moment or two of nothing, you make grabby hand motions at him like a small child.

“What?” he questions quietly. When he finally looks over at you, you’re too busy staring at the lights beyond the entrance to look back.

“Just come on. We’ve got a date to enjoy…” You pause and take a breath.  “Boyfriend.”

A breath hitches in the back of his throat. You merely mumbled that last word, but Hyunjin heard it loud and clear. You begin to bring your hand closer to his again, motioning silently for him to take it, and he mentally curses at himself for how quickly his lips twitch up into a small smile.

Slowly, he reaches over and takes your hand in his, linking your fingers together. He uses every fibre of his being not to beam like an idiot.

“Where do we start?” you say, not really aiming the question at anyone.

Hyunjin shrugs. “I mean, we can start with the Christmas trees…”

His comment earns a chuckle from you, then a light punch to the arm. It’s a pity chuckle, but he’ll take what he can get. “No shit.”

Chuckling too, he gently tugs at your hand. “Come on, the Christmas tree farm awaits.”

Hyunjin squeezes your hand lightly as he leads you to the counter. He slips a five-dollar bill in the donation jar before walking in the farm with you. The golden lights of the welcome arch surround him with warmth, just like the feeling of your hand in his, as he makes a beeline for the rows of Christmas trees.

To Hyunjin, you seem content with him guiding you around all of the large Christmas trees, even when he takes longer than necessary to take in the waft of fresh pine coming from a few of them. He tries to hold back at first, but eventually he stops at a tree and comments on how much prettier it would look with a string of colourful lights and candy canes lining its needles. Then you two stop at the next tree, and he babbles about how fun it would be to have a real tree one year.

He’s sure he has stars in his eyes much brighter than the one he’d put on top of a real Christmas tree. And he’s lucky that it’s just you with him and you allow him to ramble on, nodding along as he does so. Every once in a while, he looks at you for your reaction to something he said, and he catches the small smile on your face. Whether it’s at him or the children who chase each other through the gaps between the trees, he doesn’t care. He’s just happy that you’re happy, and indulging in his silly fantasies.

There’s a relaxing aura about being at a Christmas tree farm that Hyunjin never expected. Well, maybe he should’ve expected this from the movies he’s watched, but experiencing the warm atmosphere himself is different than seeing it on a screen. The trees around you two seem to lift the tension from the car off your shoulders. He feels lighter, more at peace. And, more importantly, so do you.

The sun has dipped below the horizon, making way for strings of lights towards the centre of the farm. Lines of a purple hue dip upward to a point that stands taller than all the pine trees that seem to go on for miles. Maybe there’s something there that Hyunjin missed.

The light glow catches your attention, too, and you start walking closer to it, keeping a hold on his hand. You two weave through the rows of Christmas trees until you happen to pass the last row, and you find a spectacle of sparkling lights. Lines of red and white make a tent shape and meet the purple lights at the top. Beneath them, two reindeer made of wire and golden lights greet you. They almost look like they’re cuddling under the tent of red and white—something about it makes Hyunjin’s heart sing.

“Wow…” he whispers to himself.

And somehow, without realising it, words leave your lips softly. Hyunjin is so in awe of the lights, he barely notices.  “🎶Under the mistletoe…🎶”

He almost doesn’t feel your head lightly rest against his shoulder. The reindeer… why is it reminding him of you two?

“🎶Watching the fire glow…🎶”

The faint melody makes Hyunjin’s ear perk up, causing him to turn and gaze at you. You’re too immersed in the trees and the occasional giggling child running through to even notice you’re quietly singing “Christmas Tree Farm'' to yourself. 

It makes Hyunjin’s heart race just like it did back in the car. However, now, he doesn’t have the car heaters to blame his red cheeks on. He’s thankful you're too absorbed in your own little world to even notice anything going on around you. 

“🎶And telling me, ‘I love you’ …🎶”

It’s like whatever is above is blessing him, letting him in on a little secret, in the form of light snowdrops falling from the sky. They land so delicately on your hair and shoulders and there’s a little flicker in your eyes that Hyunjin can’t ignore.

Never once in his life did he think he would see the first snow with someone. But now that he is, the hopeless romantic in him is screaming at him what he should have known all along.

“🎶Just being in your arms…🎶”

There is no big realisation. There is no big freak-out. There’s nothing to unpack or be scared about when his heart swells just that little bit more than usual. As he’s looking at you—still too oblivious to notice—everything just makes sense. There is no need for perfect, there is no need for the unattainable. 

All he needs is you.

“🎶Takes me back to that little farm…🎶”

He doesn’t need to second guess himself, or try to convince himself of anything. He just knows. All the stories he was told by his parents, the ones he watched in the movies, every little fairytale that he’s held onto his whole life is true.

Maybe it’s not childish, and maybe he didn’t need to chase his fairytale moment at all.

He already has it.

“🎶Where every wish comes true…🎶” 

As you continue to mumble the lyrics to yourself, Hyunjin squeezes your hand, finally bringing your attention back to him. 

“Thank you for being here with me.” He smiles sweetly.

Your returning smile makes his heart do laps. “No, thank you.” 

He squeezes your hand again. You squeeze his back.

six.

– november 23rd.

It’s only when the mass of people leaving your class dissipates that you notice Hyunjin standing out in the hallway waiting for you. He’s leaning up against the wall, focused on his phone. When he finally looks up and sees you, his smile grows and he pockets his phone, holding a hand out to you.

You raise your eyebrow and glance at his hand for a second too long before he makes grabby hands at you. A giggle escapes your lips. “Why do you want to hold my hand so badly?” You take his hand before he can answer.

“Because my dearest and best girlfriend in the world, it’s time for another date,” he muses, skipping slightly and rocking your entwined hands in a more exaggerated fashion. 

Humming and nodding your head, you lean into him slightly. “What are we going to do?”

He shrugs. “I was thinking we go to the park close to campus? Since the snow has settled and everything, we can just walk around for a couple hours until I have to go to class.”

It’s then that you register that Hyunjin called you his girlfriend. Not his fake girlfriend, just his girlfriend. You don’t do anything to correct him right now.

Instead, you look up at him, a pout gracing your lips. “But I was going to studyyyy.”

Hyunjin just shoots you a doubtful look back. “Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh!” you whine. The professor of the class you just got out of kept hinting at a pop quiz next session—considering that you failed the last pop quiz, you really didn’t want to fail a second one.

Nodding slowly, Hyunjin still looks sceptical. “Riiiight, okay.”

“I’m serious! We’re graduating soon, I can’t flunk out now!”

Hyunjin nods again. “Okaaaay, but you have…” he counts with his fingers on his free hand, “five days until then!” He stops in the middle of the walkway, stepping in front of you and taking not one, but both your hands in his. “Come onnnn, please? It’s just one day! And it snowed! It’s the perfect day to not study!”

When you respond with a blank stare, it seems like Hyunjin is forced to take drastic measures. So he tries one more very convincing line. “I’ll make you a hot chocolate when we get home! I know how much you love hot chocolate. Pleeeease?”

Something about the way his bottom lip juts out and his eyes twinkle with hope makes you want to cup his cheeks in your hands and… punch him. Yes, exactly, punch him right in the face. Hit him where it hurts.

But alas, despite your growing urge to lovingly ki…ck him off the fifth floor of the university library, you know even that won’t stop him begging you to ditch studying. So you sigh.

“Make it with milk, not water; whipped cream and chocolate syrup on top. Don’t forget the marshmallows.” That quiz will have to wait another day, but seeing the wave of happiness and relief wash over Hyunjin’s face right before he crushes you in a hug makes it worth it.

“Deal!”

…

The park is less crowded than you thought it would be. In your experience as a college student, you thought more of you would use the snow as a way to escape the stress of upcoming deadlines. Yes, you had to be bribed with hot chocolate to be here, but still. If you know, you know.

Regardless, you’re not complaining that you and Hyunjin basically have the whole park to yourselves.

“We should sit under there,” Hyunjin says, pointing to a cedar tree. Never mind the blanket of snow covering its needles that could fall on your heads.

You look up at him, your face sour. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Oh… right,” he says sheepishly, then points to a bench several feet away from it. “How about there?”

You nod and let him drag you there, ignoring the pathways and cutting through the grass. You take it as an excuse to hear the snow crunch underneath your shoes.

As you both approach the bench, Hyunjin slowly lets go of your hand to scurry ahead of you and wipe the thin layer of snow from its surface. It earns a cry from him at how cold it is, causing you to shake your head fondly. 

“Why not get your gloves out?” you ask.

“I forgot I had them!” He plops down on the bench with a frown and pats the spot next to him. “Sit.”

You take a seat, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and onto your lap. Reaching in the front pocket, you blindly search for his and your gloves. When your fingers graze the soft fabric, you pull both pairs out and hand Hyunjin’s pair to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, hurrying to slip his gloves on his hands. Once you do the same, he holds his hand out to you.

You furrow your brow at him. “We just held hands earlier?”

Hyunjin pouts. “But my hands are cold.”

“Is that not what the gloves are for?”

“Y/N…” he pulls out the bottom lip and puppy dog eyes again. Oh no…

Your eyes guiltily flicker between his outstretched hand and his face. His stupid, pouty face that is making your heart feel things you don’t want to think about. God..

“It’s coooold,” Hyunjin whines. “And it’s a coupley thing to snuggle when it’s cold, right?”

Fake couple. But you don’t correct him out loud.

“Okay, okay,” you huff, taking his hand in yours. He smiles and entwines your fingers together.

You and Hyunjin sit in silence for a while hand-in-hand as you take in the serenity. Sounds of children giggling faintly ring from the other side of the small park, and the blanket of powdery snow in front of you is still fresh and untouched. You feel so at peace here, you don’t notice you’re scooting closer to Hyunjin.

Wait. You’re scooting closer to Hyunjin. And you’re leaning your head on his shoulder.

It’s because it’s cold. Yeah. Your bum is freezing and you could use the body heat of a fellow human. It’s like how penguins huddle for warmth in the winter, except you’re not in Antarctica; you’re in a quaint little park on a snowy day with your best friend—fake boyfriend.

And as a good fake boyfriend does, Hyunjin lets go of your hand in response and slips his arm around your shoulders. You feel his cheek gently rest on top of your head. You instinctively wrap an arm around his waist—instinctively? How did you know to do that? What are you doing?

Right, you’re snuggling. Snuggling like any ordinary couple would do. It doesn’t matter if you’re a fake couple; this is how you fake it till you make it, as they say. So you just stay like this for a few minutes. Hyunjin’s making for a great cuddler, anyway. Is he worried about not being as good as the guys in whatever movies he watches? He shouldn’t. Because he’s gentle and warm and sweet and now he’s kissing the top of your head.

Wait, what are you doing?

Your eyes fly wide open. You don’t move, but suddenly Hyunjin’s too warm and you feel suffocated in his arms. Now, all you can think of is any excuse to get up.

As if the universe was answering your prayers, a small tennis ball rolls by your feet. You look at the light green ball, then the dog leaping through the snow to chase it, then a kid you assume is its owner, far away but visibly out of breath. Letting go of Hyunjin, you bend down to grab the ball, running a few feet away before chucking the ball in the kid’s direction.

After watching the dog dash after the ball for a moment, you feel something cold splat against your back. You gasp in surprise and turn to see a frowning Hyunjin.

“You left me for a dog!” he whines childishly. He tries not to smile, but lets out a giggle at the end of his sentence.

You stare at him with your jaw dropped. “He’s cuter than you!”

He gasps loudly in offence and chucks another snowball at you.

“Who’s cuter now?!”

You scoop up some snow and toss it at his chest. “Still the dog!”

He gets up and runs straight for you. You squeak and run away, looping around the cedar tree close to the bench to try and slow him down. He quickly catches up with you, and you soon feel his arms wrap around you and pull you back. You let out a squeal at the move.

“You thought you could get away with that, huh?!” he says in between giggles. You’re just as giggly.

“Let me go!”

“Not until you say I’m cuter than that dog!”

He looks at you and you look up at him. He’s trying to pout at you, but you’re both laughing too much to take him seriously. But there’s something in his eyes, or maybe in his silly back-hug, that feels different… but you don’t want to think about that right now.

Instead, you smile and poke his cheek with one finger.

“Okay, fine. But only just a little.”

seven.

– december 1st.

Hyunjin feels himself buzzing from excitement as he guides you, hand-in-hand, through the busy streets of downtown. He would never admit it outright, but ever since you came up with the idea of fake Christmas dates, watching the switching on of the Christmas lights was high on his list. He’s dreamt of counting down the seconds until holiday lights illuminate the city, and has watched them alone. Just… not with someone. Not with someone who means as much to him as you do. 

He can’t tell what’s louder: his heart thumping when your hand squeezes his as you both tuck and swerve through the busy crowd, or the crowd itself. After his realisation a few weeks prior,  there’s something new and addicting about how your hand feels in his—like they were pieces of a puzzle, like they were destined to fit each other. He can’t get enough of it.  He wonders if Christmas romance movie characters feel their heart beating as fast as his when he’s around you. And he wonders if it makes your heart race just as much, if there’s even a slight possibility that you look at him the same way he’s grown to look at you. 

A slight tug on his hand pulls him out of his daze for just a moment. He looks back at you, who points excitedly at the giant Christmas tree in the heart of the plaza you two had just walked past. Smiling fondly, he follows you to get a closer look.

Hyunjin stops next to you, looking up at the huge, sparkling tree in front of you. He takes a moment to marvel at the bright lights strung across the expanse of the tree, the tinsel hanging from each branch,  and red and gold ornaments sprinkled throughout. The tree stands at such a great height, Hyunjin can barely see the shining gold star perched atop it. 

As his gaze drifts downward, across the tree again, his eyes fall on you standing by his side. In that moment, under the glittering lights bouncing off the small ornaments, Hyunjin thinks you’ve never looked prettier. You’re looking up at the tree in wonder, twinkles in your eyes as you take in the sights. You’re unaware of the way Hyunjin beholds you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. All the glowing lights surrounding you go dim in comparison every time you smile. 

To Hyunjin, you’re the sun, and he’s just a star in your orbit, circling around you and living for every moment your warm light shines on him. Without you, his world would be cold and dark, just as it was before you came into his life. 

Eventually, he tears his eyes away from you, focusing once again on the tree. Between the strings of bulbs, he sees flashes of a future he can picture with you: your first kiss, waking up to you in the morning every day, your wedding day and carrying you over the threshold of your home when you’re back from your honeymoon. He can see it all. Three kids, two dogs, and a hamster, family vacations, their friends being honorary uncles. 

Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, but when he’s with you, he can’t help it. You are his forever and a day. 

Every time he steals a glance at you, you’re in a world of your own. You’re so focused on looking up at the pre-hanging lights that you let him drag you along without much thought. Not that he minds much, himself. The little sparkle in your eyes as you look around in awe is utterly adorable. Not to mention that you’re willingly out with him in matching Christmas sweaters—maybe reluctantly at first, but willingly nonetheless. He never thought he’d get you to agree, but now that you did, the oversized tacky sweater somehow makes you look even cuter than he imagined.  

He can’t decide whether or not to scream to the world about how precious you are, or if he wants to wrap you up in a blanket and keep you all to himself. He thoroughly believes the world deserves to see your brightness, but at the same time, he only wants you to smile at him. He wants to be the reason you smile so wide your cheeks hurt, he wants to be the reason to laugh so hard you fall off your seat. 

Hyunjin’s focus returns to in front of him, a small content smile playing at his lips. Not because of you (mostly), but because he already knows the perfect place to watch the switch on. He’s had this planned for weeks now—another thing he will never admit.

Ever since the announcement of the light switch on came on social media a few weeks back, Hyunjin has been on a special mission. Every weekend since then, he’s sneaked off to the city to find the best spot possible to see the lights in all their glory. (He had told you that he had been helping Changbin with some stuff; whether or not you believed him was another story). Somewhere not too crowded, somewhere not too far away. Something perfect—something you deserve. 

That’s when he discovered a small cafe, its entrance hidden in a small alleyway wedged between two buildings. He was surprised at first that it was open since there were no signs on the street to indicate its existence, apart from the small menu board at the bottom of the metal staircase. 

As he guides you into the alleyway, he hears you hum in confusion. Feeling your hand tense up slightly in his, he stops and turns around. 

You’re looking at him with furrowed eyebrows, concern drawn all over your face. With a light squeeze of his hand, Hyunjin sends you a smile. 

“Do you trust me?” he says barely above a whisper, squeezing your hand once more. 

Hyunjin’s smile widens as you don’t even hesitate to nod your head at him.

“Always.” 

Before you get the chance to speak, you’re already up on the roof of the small coffee shop. It’s surprisingly empty with how busy the streets are down below. It makes Hyunjin wonder why there aren’t more people up there, not that he’s complaining.

Even though you’re both out of the crowd, Hyunjin still doesn’t let go of your hand just yet. He’s too content in the way it feels right now, and he wants to soak up every moment of it, because he doesn’t know when he’ll get the chance to again. He could play the clingy card to buy himself more time—it’s something he’s done before when he was sick, and it’s worked—but it doesn’t feel quite right this time. This was different from his usual antics somehow. It feels natural, it feels right. But at the same time, he wants to jump around and do some somersaults, much like his heart in his chest is.

He quickly hides the way his smile drops when you let go of his hand and runs over to the metal railings, gasping at the better view of the hung-up lights. 

When you turn back to him, it’s like everything has disappeared around him and all he can see is you and your smile. He forgets how to breathe, he feels faint, and he wants nothing more than to wrap you up in his arms and to kiss you all over your pretty face. He can’t do that, of course, but will he do it in his dreams later that night? Probably. Most definitely. 

He almost misses it when you speak to him, your smile growing by the second. 

“This is great Hyun!” You’re bouncing in place. “How did you find this place?” 

He shrugs and looks everywhere except in your eyes to try and calm his heating cheeks. 

“Oh you know, I just stumbled upon it.”

He can’t help himself when you hold your hand out to him. “Let’s watch the lights together.” 

So he takes it, letting your warmth dance around his hand in a mix of comfort and giddiness. He’s sure you haven’t noticed the new effect you’ve had on him, too oblivious to the world around you to know when someone is falling head over heels for you. 

There’s a part of Hyunjin’s brain that tries to remind him of the deal. A reminder that all of these events are not real, just as he wanted. However, Hyunjin decides to push these thoughts down into a little box, lock them up with a lock and key, and bury it in his mind.

The countdown is like a faint blur in his ears, the chanting taking a backseat to the person right in front of him. All he can hear is your soft counting, all he can feel is his pulse racing in his fingertips.

“Five, four, three,” Hyunjin squeezes your hand.  “Two…” You squeeze it back. “One.” 

At the flip of a switch, a blaze of colourful lights brighten up the town. But to Hyunjin, even they don’t compare to the awestruck sparkle in your eyes that sets his heart aflame.

eight.

– december 7th.

Since it’s the week before finals, Hyunjin insisted this past weekend that you two have dates every day this week. One, you suggested to stop the dates so you could study and he said no. That’s an understatement, actually—he practically got on his knees and begged you not to do that. Like, shook-you-by-the-shoulders, one-step-away-from-giving-up-his-americano begged.

It’s funnier now that it’s over, but you’ve never seen him more desperate for anything. Weird. Maybe he ate too many of Felix’s brownies that day.

When Hyunjin arrives at your dorm for your daily date today, the first thing he tells you is, and you quote, “Sit your ass down and wait until I finish setting up.” So, not wanting to deal with his whining today, you do exactly as you’re told for once.

You let yourself sink into your couch as your eyes lazily follow Hyunjin around. He goes in and out of your kitchen, places his laptop on the coffee table in front of you, and opens it. The screen lights up, prompting him to input his password, but instead of doing so, he heads straight back into the kitchen without a word. 

Huffing silently, you lean forward and type in his password: the month and day of both of your birthdays. It takes a second, but when the screen loads into an already-opened, paused, full-screen video of a fireplace, you furrow your brows.

“Hyun? What's this?” you call out to him. 

Almost instantly, you hear him groan in response. Then he appears at the kitchen door and stares at you with his arms crossed. “I told you to sit down.”

“Oops?” You smile at him sheepishly. “I’m a rule-breaker.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes before disappearing back into the kitchen. “A freak is what you are,” he grumbles.

You gasp. “HEY! I HEARD THAT!”

“THAT’S THE POINT!” he yells back from the kitchen.

Getting up from your seat, you make your way over to the kitchen, shivering slightly from the light chill in the air. You stay at the doorway, not wanting to sacrifice your feet to the cold tiles of your kitchen floor. Your eyes land on Hyunjin’s frame faster than you’d like to admit, and he’s standing over two mugs as he places  tiny marshmallows into each of them. 

“I thought I said sit down,” he says, not looking in your direction. You don’t want to know how he knows you’re there; you didn’t even move from the doorway. Maybe he saw you staring, maybe he just knows you that well… you hope it’s the second one.

“I couldn’t sit still,” you huff, bringing your arms across your chest. 

He picks up the two mugs, takes a few steps towards you, and gestures to them with his head. 

“Take these,” Hyunjin says as he hands them over. “Go sit back down, I’ll get some blankets.” 

“M’kay.” Your voice comes out higher than usual. Praying he doesn’t notice, you quickly cover it up with a cough. “I mean, yep. Mhm.”

You hold your breath as you shuffle back over to the couch, exhaling deeply as you place the two mugs on the coffee table next to Hyunjin’s laptop. It’s when you sit down that you notice the whipped cream and drizzle of chocolate syrup he added to top both of your drinks. As your gaze follows the steam lightly swirling out of the mugs, you can’t help but smile. He remembered your favourite.

Not even a minute later, he’s back, your duvet in his arms. Before you can ask why, he throws it down on top of you. 

“ACK!” you shriek. “I thought—” you attempt to speak as you wrestle your way out the duvet, “you were getting blankets!” 

“I got a blanket, didn’t I?” 

“But why the big one?!”

You feel the couch dip as Hyunjin sits down beside you. He helps free you from the duvet before he straightens it out, waving it once and letting it drape down across your laps. 

“So we can do this.” 

You just keep your eyes down on the duvet for a moment. It’s more than enough to cover both your and his legs, which you guess a throw blanket wouldn’t have been able to accomplish.

When you finally look up, though, Hyunjin is smiling at you tenderly. You catch yourself holding your breath again as his soft gaze finds yours. For a second, the brown hue in his eyes reminds you of the chocolate drizzle in your hot chocolate—comforting, sweet—maybe too sweet for some, but just the right amount for you. Has the brown in his eyes always sparkled like it is now?

Wait… what are you doing?

“Oh, u-um…” You blink a few times to try to bring yourself back down to earth. “Then this works, thanks, Hyun.” You take a mug from Hyunjin when he hands one over to you. “So what exactly are we doing?”

“We’re going to cuddle and drink hot cocoa by the fireplace,” Hyunjin hums, nodding proudly before taking a long sip of his drink.

You take a second to process his words, then you glance at Hyunjin’s laptop screen. “But that’s YouTube?” 

He turns to look at you and blinks. If you could reverse time, this would be the perfect time to do it. 

“Well, I know that, but we don’t have a fireplace.” He sighs. “This is the best we got.” 

He leans over, clicks ‘play’ on the video, and the delicate crackling of fire emanating from his laptop begins to fill the room. Maybe it’s not a real fireplace, but the heat you’re feeling from him sitting so close and the comforting sounds make you feel plenty warm.

Hyunjin settles back into his spot on the couch, picking up his mug with one hand. You lift up your mug, too, and softly clink it with his, taking a sip together as well. You’re so engrossed in the sweet, creamy drink melting in your mouth, that you don’t notice Hyunjin has casually slipped his arm around your shoulders until another few sips later. You lean your head against him and do nothing to shake his arm off, even though a tiny part of your brain screams at you to make it stop.

You’ve lost track of how much time has passed, but when the hot chocolates are finished, the crackling has faded into the background and the sound of Hyunjin’s faint snoring fills your ears. It’s enough time and space to let your brain wander. Iit wanders to the way Hyunjin’s cologne is a constant in your life, the way you always know where he is and where he’s been. It wanders to how every piece of clothing you own, and your whole life, is in some way infused with the essence of Hyunjin. 

Moving your head ever-so-slightly so you don’t wake him, you let your eyes gaze at the blond-headed boy for a moment too long. You can’t understand why he tries so hard to chase after perfection, when that’s already what he is. The way his eyelashes lay across his cheeks and the way his nose scrunches up at something in his dream—you can’t help but smile at the boy who has you wrapped up in his arms. 

It made you wonder when the feeling of his arms around you began to feel different. Hyunjin is Hyunjin, your best friend and nothing more than that. This fake dating thing is just that—fake. It’s a made-up relationship, a scheme to give Hyunjin what he’s always wanted: a college Christmas romance. One that started to feel a little too real to you.

There shouldn’t be feelings involved when it comes to fake dating. Everyone knows that. You can count all the romcoms you’ve ever seen on only one hand, but even you know that rule. But the way Hyunjin hugs you tighter in his sleep causes not only your heart, but your head to race as well. You’re suddenly too warm, the laptop is too loud, and you feel like the weight of the world has just fallen on your shoulders. 

Your breathing begins to pick up, but you’re pulled back out of it when you feel Hyunjin move beside you. Your eyes find his half-opened ones; he looks like he could fall back asleep at any moment. 

“Are you okay?” he mumbles before letting out a yawn, his arms still secure around you. 

You hum, pretty much shoving your head into his chest, your eyes focused on his laptop. “I’m okay, Hyunnie.” 

Luckily, the sleepy Hyunjin doesn't question it. He just pulls you closer and places a kiss on your hairline, sending your mind into another spiral. 

“Just take a nap.” You feel him yawn again. “Just enjoy this time.” 

When Hyunjin’s snore fills your ears once more, you let out a breath and do your best to blink away the tears swelling up in your eyes. 

This was a big realisation for your brain to handle on a Tuesday night. And you're not sure what to do about it apart from what you do best—ignore it and hope it goes away. 

nine.

– december 14th.

Before anyone can even say anything, Hyunjin knows he should be focusing on his art theory class. However, as he’s laying down across his desk with his head resting on his arm, he can’t help but stare at his phone in despair. 

It had been seven days—one week—since the magical movie night at your dorm. Since then, all of his messages had gone unresponded—actually, you responded exactly one time: the morning after when Hyunjin had asked about getting breakfast. You were busy. 

He mindlessly unlocks his phone, opening his message chain with you. Still no response or even a ‘read’ alert from you at the bottom. Deep down, he knows you haven’t even clicked on his messages if there is no ‘read’ alert, just like how his fridge won’t magically fill up with food if he doesn’t restock it… unless you turned read receipts off entirely, but that’s too much effort for you to do. 

He lost count of how many times he told you in high school to turn it off when you were in fights with your friends. You’d keep opening their messages and the fights would only continue when they saw you were ignoring them. You always brushed him off saying that there was no point, that they’d still know anyway. 

But here he is, staring at his phone, wishing for something, anything from you. At this point, he would take a ‘read at 3:25pm’ over the vacancy his inbox seems to taunt him with.

He only realises that class is over when the mass of people in the lecture hall scramble around him to leave. Hyunjin picks up his head from his table and sits there a moment longer. 

The other students make a beeline for the door, the professor glances at Hyunjin still sitting there and shakes their head, before following the students out the semi-open door, closing it behind them. Even with everyone’s presence in the room gone, it still feels just as empty as it did twenty minutes before. 

His phone lights up and a little bit of joy enters his heart, only for it to be smashed into pieces when the words become clear. 

Binnie : YO !! 

Binnie : free to get lunch or you with y/n? 

Hyunjin responds with a simple ‘i’m free.’ He locks his phone and shoves it into his pocket before throwing his messenger bag over his shoulder, dragging himself out of the lecture hall to wherever Changbin and the gang are. 

…

Hyunjin can hear them before he sees them. 

Jisung’s incessant screams and Changbin’s laughter are both way too loud for Hyunjin to put up with in that moment. But still, he wonders, following the sounds as they grow closer and closer and the two clowns (said with affection) become clear. 

Jisung’s too busy running around the picnic table, screaming about something with Changbin laughing so hard he has tears streaming down his face. Next to him is a silent-as-ever Chan, watching in amusement with a dopey smile present on his lips. 

It goes silent when Hyunjin drops his bag with a thud on the table. It makes him wince and the stares from three of his friends makes him wish the world would swallow him whole. It’s still silent when he throws one leg over the bench and sits himself down, bringing the other leg in before using his bag as a pillow.

Three, two, one… he thinks.

“What’s up with you?”

There it is. Hyunjin ignores the question as he tries to push his head further into his bag.

“Hyun?” Chan’s voice is softer than the other two boys. Whilst he knows the other two mean well, it’s a lot more comforting when it’s coming from Chan. “Are you okay?” 

It takes all of his strength to pick his head up off of the table and look at the eldest of the four boys. Hyunjin feels as if his default look is to frown and when the other two boys clock on, Jisung is sat down next to him in a flash. 

“Bro,” Changbin starts. “You look as if your mum told you you’d never see Kkami again.” 

This clown (again said with affection) really did not have the slightest indication of how to comfort someone. There was something unique about Changbin, he had heart, but brains? That and reading the room wasn’t always his strong suit. 

“I think what he means is,” Chan rephrases, “you look really down in the dumps. What’s up, buddy?” There he goes, talking as if he’s seventy when he’s barely twenty-six.

“Y/N hasn’t spoken to me in a week…” Hyunjin mumbles, letting his head fall back onto his bag. “Do you think she hates me?” he asks, but to the trio it comes out more like, ‘o u inks smates me?’ 

He isn’t sure who places a hand on his back—he assumes it’s Jisung with the angle. All he knows is he can feel a cold hand just barely pressing through his hoodie. 

“Maybe she’s busy?” Jisung says, patting Hyunjin’s back lightly. “She’ll send her usual emoji update when she’s ready.” 

Hyunjin only picks up his head again so his friends can hear him. “She hasn’t even read any of my messages.” 

It’s quiet, too quiet. When he sits up to look at them and Jisung’s hand falls from his back, Hyunjin’s frown just enhances. The boys look at each other, frowns present on their own faces. Hyunjin doesn’t think they completely understand the situation. But then again, neither can he.

“What do I do?” he says. 

“She’s probably busy with exams…” Jisung blurts out, looking at the two boys sitting across from them before looking back at Hyunjin. 

“Yeah!” Changbin pipes in. “Plus her internship! That’s probably keeping her busy too, especially since it’s close to Christmas!” 

Hyunjin looks over at Chan, he’s silent like usual. He has a sad smile on his face, like he wants to say something to calm Hyunjin’s worries, but he’s just not exactly sure what those words are. 

“Thanks guys…” Hyunjin does his best to smile.

Jisung brings him in for a tight hug. Even though he normally would have, Hyunjin doesn’t try to push him away. The coos from the two other boys make his heart feel just a bit warmer. 

…

– december 15th.

Hyunjin should have called first. But with how silent you’ve been over the past eight days, he knew you wouldn’t have picked up. So here he stands, two pizza boxes in one hand as he tries to pluck up the courage to finally knock on your door after standing outside it for god knows how long. 

He wonders if you’ll smell the pizza from inside and open the door yourself so he wouldn’t have to knock. A boy can dream. 

He clenches his fist so hard it turns white. Takes a deep breath, releases it. Takes another one. He thinks about how he’ll knock on the count of three—but then procrastinates even more by thinking about if he means he’d do it on three or after three. 

In actuality, he doesn’t need to do anything when the sound of your door unlocking makes him smile slightly. He knew you’d smell the pizza. 

When the door opens up wide enough, you jump back slightly in surprise. Hyunjin can barely believe himself either. He’s actually here… in all his anxious glory.

“Hyunjin…” 

Your face visibly pales, causing Hyunjin to frown. Did you really not want to see him that badly? Over a week of nothing and this is how you react when you see him again? 

He looks down at your outfit. You’ve got your puffer coat on and your bag draped across your chest, sending the puffiness out in awkward directions. “Where are you going?” 

“I– I’ve got class,” you stutter. 

“Oh.” Hyunjin’s shoulders drop. 

He motions to the pizza boxes in his hand and smiles sheepishly. He watches how your eyes glance at them before darting off in another direction.

“I thought we could chill and have pizza, like normal,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I forgot you had class today and…” Hyunjin pauses. He takes another deep breath as he watches you, waiting to see if you’d finally look at him. “I was just wondering if we could talk… it’s been a while you know?” 

One of your hands comes up to fiddle with the hair behind your left ear. Hyunjin takes note of how you bite at your bottom lip. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” 

Hyunjin blinks. You’re still avoiding his gaze.

“Can we at least talk quickly?” he asks. He can’t tell if he’s grateful or not when you open the door wider for him to enter. 

“Okay. Just make it quick.”

He shuffles inside, placing the pizza boxes down on the coffee table that once held his laptop as their makeshift fireplace. Turning back to you, Hyunjin now sees how your hands are shoved into your pockets. Your coat is zipped all the way up so you can hide your face in your collar. 

“Where have you been?” The question escapes his lips before he can even register it. 

He’s watching you for every single change in your body language, every little muscle movement. Anything that will clue him into what the heck is happening. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I’ve been busy with schoolwork, and my internship is piling more on me because Christmas is coming up.” Just like Changbin had thought. But even then, it didn’t feel enough. 

“You could have said something,” Hyunjin sighs. “Anything. Even just an emoji like you usually do when you’re cramming.” 

He’s surprised when you have nothing to say. You’re just hiding in your coat collar and he can see the distressed look on your face. Hyunjin has never felt more confused in his life, and here you are, doing nothing to help. He feels as if he’s questioning every life choice he’s made up to this point. 

“Are you okay?” he speaks again after another moment. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Hyunjin feels like tiny needles are being pricked into his heart, and your silence is pushing them deeper. The more seconds that tick by, the more his heart crumbles in his chest.

He watches as you take a deep breath in. He watches you as you exhale. 

“About that…” You gulp and take another breath. “We should end this… we should break up.” 

Hyunjin can hear the glass house around him break into hundreds and thousands of little pieces. He’s sure that in all that rubble is his heart—pierced and splinted, bleeding out from each wound. Yet all that he can do is blink. 

“...What?”

For the first time in his life, he cannot read a single expression or feeling on your face. It’s like he’s been placed in the middle of the desert; no map, no compass, nothing. He’s lost, afraid, and so, so alone. And you’re just standing there, a mere few feet away from him, unable to even look him in the eye.

“We should stop our agreement.” You’re fiddling with the strap on your bag as if to keep your mind from spiralling or wondering. “Look, everything with class and my internship is getting busier, and you wanted Christmas dates, right?”

You gulp again. Hyunjin is just silent. He can’t even nod.

“You got what you wanted. You got the dates and to experience a Christmas romance.” You finally look him in the eye, and it’s like one final stab to his heart. “So we should end this now, so we can both focus on the things we need to.” 

You’re finally staring at each other, battling it out silently for who can keep their hold the longest. It’s torture and Hyunjin’s never felt pain like this… it pierces into his stomach so bad that he wants to throw up. 

“Hyunjin—” 

Before you can even finish your sentence, you’re cut off by the sound of the door unlocking. Your eyes widen in surprise as Yeri, your usually missing roommate, walks through the door. She has a suitcase behind her, probably back from whatever adventure she’s been on with her girlfriend. 

You seem glad to see her back in one piece, but god, did she have the worst timing. It makes Hyunjin want to scream. Why now, of all times, did she have to decide to come home? Right when Hyunjin’s in the middle of being ‘dumped’ by the person he’s in love with?

Yeri looks up in shock, takes one of her airpods out of her ear, and grins sheepishly. 

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Her eyes flicker between you and Hyunjin. She’s not sure what to make of the awkward atmosphere, but Hyunjin doesn’t blame her. “I’ll…” She motions to her bedroom door to insinuate the end of her sentence, before dragging her suitcase behind her. 

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to Hyunjin. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head. 

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin. 

He wants to scream and cry out, not only in confusion, but in what Hyunjin can’t tell is anger or just pure sadness. He doesn’t, partly because he knows Yeri is within earshot, but also because he doesn’t know if he has the energy. His mind is making so many laps and leaps trying to figure out everything that he just wants to lie down.

He gasps for air. His eyes feel misty and he wants to do nothing but run. 

��I get it,” he mutters, looking away. “You can have what you want.”

Hyunjin says no more, leaving the discarded pizzas on the coffee table. He ignores the way his heart stings when you don’t call after him. He doesn’t even bother to wait for the elevator, choosing to rush down the stairs to get out of the building as fast as possible whilst wiping his cheeks haphazardly with the back of his sleeve. 

He once again wants the world to swallow him whole—or for him to sleep for the rest of the Christmas season. Because, honestly, none of it seems worth it anymore.

ten.

– december 18th.

How is it possible that three days can feel like an eternity? 

‘We should end this.’ Your voice repeats in Hyunjin’s brain in a constant loop. It torments him when he’s awake and stays to haunt him in his dreams. ‘We should break up.’ 

The first day felt like torture. All he wanted to was rant about you, to you. Sure, he could go to his other friends, but when you’re his first choice… what could he do? He couldn’t call or text you now that he wants to more than over. He wanted to cry at the sound of your voice and beg you to reconsider—to go on real dates with him—to have a real Christmas romance. 

‘You got what you wanted.’

Day two was just as hard. When he hadn’t blown up the group chat over some random thing in over twenty-four hours, this was when his friends got worried. So they blew up his phone instead with a mixture of concern and heartfelt care, and whatever you call Jisung’s messages. Hyunjin decided to ignore them, but kept checking his phone on the off-chance he’d get a text from you. Eventually, he turned over his phone and rolled over in his bed, shutting his eyes and hoping the world would disappear for a bit. 

‘You got the dates, you got to experience a Christmas romance.’

Now here he sits, on day three, in the trio’s shared off-campus apartment. He only begrudgingly got out of bed when Jisung threatened to start screaming outside his door. He’s lying sideways across the couch, his feet propped up against the armchair. He hasn’t washed his hair in too long, he vaguely thinks a family of birds might nest in it someday, and his grey sweats have a big blotch of brown on one leg. He spilled hot Americano on himself when he got home after your breakup, but he didn’t have the energy to change out of them.

He knows he shouldn’t be calling it a breakup when you two were never really together. But when his feelings are completely and utterly real, it really feels like one. He feels his eyes start to become misty again, and he shoves his head into his sweater paws as he tries to bury himself in the sofa more. 

‘So we should end this now.’

Chan, Changbin, and Jisung are all watching from the barely-used dining table. They are at a loss for words, they hadn’t thought about the possibility of you and Hyunjin ever breaking up. To everyone in the friend group, you two were set for life, ride-or-dies, the sunshine to the flowers. To them, there was never any possibility of a break up. They just didn’t get it. 

Changbin takes a sip of his protein shake through a bright pink curly straw, and huffs. “This is weird, dudes.” He looks over at the two other boys, who still have their eyes on Hyunjin. “He’s never been like this with anyone.” 

“Y/N isn’t just anyone, though,” Chan responds.

“Yeah,” Jisung sighs, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. His eyes still bore into Hyunjin. “They’re, like, totally made for each other.”  

Hyunjin brings his hands away slightly, sending the best glare he could manage. To the boys, however, it was more pitiful than scary, like a kicked puppy. All they want to do is scoop him up and never let him go until his heart is unbroken.  

“You know I can hear you, right?” Hyunjin asks. “And to be honest, I really don’t like all this mumbling.” 

The boys don’t hold his bad mood against him. He’s upset, frustrated, and they know he’ll apologise when he’s feeling better. Chan takes the lead, opening his mouth to speak before the other two dummies could say anything to make Hyunjin more upset. 

“We’re sorry, we’re just confused on why you guys broke up,” he explains. The other two boys nod their heads as the eldest speaks. “You two have always seemed so perfect for each other.” 

They notice how Hyunjin’s shoulders drop and he goes to hide his face in his sweater paws again. His words come out all muffled and Chan, Changbin, and Jisung all glance at each other to see if any of them understood what he said.

“What was that?” Chan asks. Hyunjin yanks his sweater paws away from his face, turning his head sharply at the boys.

“We never broke up, okay?!”

The trio can now really see how glassy Hyunjin’s eyes have become. They exchange concerned glances with each other, frowns of their own also covering their faces.

“W-Wait. What do you m—” 

Hyunjin cuts Chan off with a hiccup. 

“We— we were never really together... So w-we never really broke up.” 

The boys are stunned, confused and so completely stunned. They don’t know where to even begin to wrap their heads around the confession. But it also leads them to the next question, if it was all fake… why was Hyunjin so distraught now that it was over? 

Now it didn’t take a genius to figure that out, but it was better to hear it from Hyunjin himself.

“Okay,” Chan gulps, “do you want to start from the beginning?” 

So Hyunjin starts from the beginning. He starts off with the confession from Jisoo that was totally not the vibe. He talks about how he went to you to whine about how he was losing his chance for a college Christmas romance, to how you suggested he should fake date someone to get the experiences he wanted. To how he had decided you were his perfect person for the task. 

“Why didn’t you just tell us it was fake, man?” Changbin asks, “it wouldn’t have been that much of a deal.” 

Hyunjin sighs, falling back into the chair and letting his head fall backwards so he can look up at the ceiling. 

“I don’t know, just wanted it to seem more realistic I guess.” He sighs. 

“Well…” Jisung continues, “what happened next?” 

So Hyunjin continues with his story. He talks about the decorating of your dorm, he ignores the comment from Jisung about that’s how your apartment got that way. He goes on to talk about the movie night and the cookies to the ice skating, and he talks about the Christmas tree farm. 

“From there…” Hyunjin slows down and pauses. 

The trio is silent, waiting for the blond to admit what they all know. They’re not sure how long he’s silent for, it could have been only a second, but in that moment it could have also been a lifetime. 

“From there… It was different.” 

He looks over to the three boys at the dining table. He felt like his heart was cracking in a whole new different way. When he was keeping it to himself, he could shove it into a little box and act as if it was something future-Hyunjin had to deal with. But now this present version of him hated past him for even thinking about putting the emotions aside to begin with. 

“I don’t know when it happened, or if it happened long before I even realised it, but she’s different. She’s her version of perfect and now it’s blown up in my face.” Hyunjin’s frown is contagious. “I– I love her and now she wants nothing to do with me anymore.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true…” Changbin tries to sympathise, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. 

“You should have seen her, she would barely look at me.” Hyunjin begins to hiccup again. “She’s the love of my life and it ended before it even started.” 

Jisung opens his mouth to speak, but Chan quickly nudges him in the side to be quiet. When Jisung looks at the older boy, all Chan does is shake his head. A look on his face saying let him get this out. 

“Ever since the Christmas tree farm, she’s been different, she’s amazing and kind–” Hyunjin hiccups, blinking away the tears he could feel welling up in his eyes. “She has this sparkle about her and even though I know it annoyed her, she still let me go on and on about how I wanted a perfect college Christmas romance when with her… I don’t need perfection.” 

“What are you going to do?” 

Hyunjin feels like curling up into a ball. He wishes for his friends to stop staring at him. He wants to hide, he wants to cry, and he wants to eat his body weight in a food that isn’t going to remind him of you– not that there were many types of those things. 

“I need to give her the space she wanted,” Hyunjin states. “She can do the things she needs to: focus on work and her internship. And I'll wait…” 

“Wait for her?” Jisung says.

Hyunjin nods. “I’ll wait forever if I have to.” 

eleven.

– december 15th.

When the soft click of her door closing behind her is heard, you turn your attention back to him. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can utter a word, he shakes his head.

“No.” He doesn’t even let you begin.

He gasps for air and you can see him blinking rapidly. You feel your heart tear in two.

“I get it,” he mutters. “You can have what you want.”

Before you can utter another word, he’s out the door. You’re sure the pizza he leaves behind is cold by now, but even if you were hungry a few minutes ago, you’re not anymore. What you want more is for him to turn around, to come back when you call out to him.

But he’s gone. It’s too late.

“Okay, so what was that all about?” Yeri’s voice breaks you out of your trance. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Hyunjin left your dorm, your door is still wide open, and you haven’t even moved a muscle. Even though you have class in twenty minutes—that part you didn’t lie about—you want nothing but to run into your room and hide there for the rest of the year.

You clear your throat and your hands go back to the strap of your bag to keep them entertained. “I… I don’t know what you’re on about.”

You haven’t even turned to look at her and you know that she knows you’re lying through your teeth.  

“Uh huh,” Yeri tuts. 

You hear her footsteps get closer to you before she’s come up beside you and is now in eye view. 

“So no trouble going on with Mr Blond Best Friend, then?” she continues to question. 

You stay silent in response, not trusting your own voice. Your eyes start to feel wet. You were able to keep up an act in front of Hyunjin, but now that he’s gone and the vision of his teary eyes keeps repeating in your mind, it’s getting more and more difficult to pretend. 

“Nothing’s going on,” you clear your throat again. Tugging on your crossbody bag, you look at her once before rushing to the door. “I need to go to class, glad to see you back.” 

Yeri can’t even get another word out as you rush out the door, slamming it behind you. You unknowingly take the same route as Hyunjin, rushing down the stairs to get out of the building as quickly as possible. 

Once the cold air hits you, you take a deep breath and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hands. 

You had to, it was the only option.

“Hyunjin!” you call out, looking all around you. Several students push by you, some wearing holiday pyjamas or Santa hats. You don’t understand how they can feel even an ounce of Christmas spirit right now.

You try running somewhere, anywhere, ducking and weaving through the pack of students making their way to wherever they want to go. There are hundreds of students out, yet you can pick out one blond head from the crowd.

“Hyunjin!”

You run faster. Before you’re able to process it, someone on an electric scooter whizzes by, knocking you off your feet. You yelp and stretch your arms out to catch yourself.

And now you’re on the ground. Groaning, you slowly move to get up. Hundreds of students pass by where you lie, but not one stops to help you. Until…

“Oh my god, Y/N!”

You light up for a second at the familiar voice. Once you realise who it is, you roll over, deflated.

Jisung gasps. “You look like death! What happened to you?!”

You blink once. “Gee, thanks,” you say flatly.

The boy stares at you for a second before finally reaching a hand out. You take it and he pulls you up.

“O-Okay, but seriously, what happened?” he says. “Are you okay?”

You search his eyes for a moment before shrugging. What are you supposed to say to Jisung? That you just ruined your friendship with the love of your life?

“It’s about Hyunjin, isn’t it?” Jisung says, his voice softer. The way he’s watching you makes you tear up all over again. He seems to let you process for another moment before reaching over, rubbing your shoulder gently.

“Look,” he sighs, “I… I know you two weren’t real. I honestly thought you were, though.” He then mutters something along the lines of, “So I didn’t owe our friend group sixty dollars after all.”

“That’s your first thought right now?”

“Wait, nonono!” Jisung’s stance changes in a snap and begins frantically smoothing out your outfit, ruffling your messy hair and making it even messier. “It’s okay, it’s okay, everything will beeee okaaayyy.”

You groan and roll your eyes fondly, but you let him continue.

“Okay, but for real now…” He rubs your shoulder again. “I think you should tell him.”

A breath hitches in the back of your throat. “Tell him… what exactly?”

He sighs deeply. “You know what I mean, Y/N.”

It’s your turn to sigh, and you look down at your shoes as your eyes well up again. Jisung smiles sadly at you and pulls you into a hug.

“He misses you, you know that?” he says. You nod, shoving your face in his shoulder before he can see you cry. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell him you miss him, too. That’s your job.”

In between sobs, you nod.

“And once you two get together, I can get my damn money back,” Jisung grumbles.

You let out a wet chuckle and hold onto him for another minute. You’re terrified of what may happen, but no amount of fear in your body is worth the heartbreak you feel right now.

twelve.

– december 24th.

Hyunjin feels… something. 

Every year on Christmas Eve, the boy would scramble to get to bed early, so he could be asleep by the time Santa comes. Obviously, though, he’s since outgrown that tradition, but now he stays up till midnight like every other teenager and college student, counting down the seconds to Christmas Day. It’s as if Christmas is Hyunjin’s pre-New Year of sorts. He may not believe in Santa anymore, but the childlike wonder and excitement he gets during this time of year has never changed. He’s all jumpy and hyper and jittery like a kid who ate too much candy, eagerly awaiting the day that the movies and the lights and the snow have made so magical.

And this year, for the first time ever, he might not be counting down alone.

Going the past week without hearing the sound of your voice felt like walking barefoot through a pit full of Legos—doubly so because he saw you on campus during finals week talking to Jisung once. Jisung! Out of everyone in your friend circle, of course you were still talking to the one who flirts with everyone for fun. At least he didn’t wink at you this time…

But after what felt like aeons of being sent to voicemail, you finally called him back three days, sixteen hours, and forty-seven minutes ago. You said something about meeting up for lunch the day after or something; he barely remembers anything from that call other than that you called. That lunch at the university cafe wasn’t much different. He was so relieved that you were in front of him talking to him again that he wasn’t paying much attention to what you were actually saying.

…Okay, maybe that’s a lie. You rearranged the Christmas decorations he had thrown all over your dorm on your first date, you got all your Christmas shopping done, and you have a super-duper special date planned for Christmas Eve. Dress warm. You’ll pick him up at 8 for dinner. And you’ll both be getting home late.

Hyunjin can see his breath just past his nose as he checks out his reflection in the glass window panes of the university library. He picked out his best winter coat for tonight—the one that goes with almost any outfit he could put together, but also doesn’t take the limelight off of yours. He also broke out the pristine white sneakers—you know, the ones he cleans frantically after every use. Were they going to get dirty in the snow? Maybe a little. But it’s you, and they go so well with his sweater and jeans. You deserve his best fit.

He knows nothing about what your plan is for tonight. All he knows is that you’ll be here in five minutes, his stomach is doing flips inside him, and he’s got shivers going up his spine.

Hyunjin feels something—he just can’t name what that something is. All the adjectives he can think of don’t feel quite right. The closest he can get is ‘tingly’, and even then, he can’t explain why he landed on that particular word. But when you pull up at the library and roll down your window, all the words he’s ever learned fly out the door.

No combination of letters could capture how beautiful you are to him.

…

Hyunjin is surprised to find himself back in the heart of downtown. This time, it’s after a lovely meal and hours-long conversation with you, and you’re the one guiding him around now.

He swivels his head around as he lets you lead, taking in all the glittery Christmas lights the same way you are. Quickly, he recognizes you’re taking the same path he once did to the cafe where you two watched the light switch. He feels like he’s on the Polar Express to the North Pole—yes, of course he was watching the movie before your date tonight. It’s a Christmas must.

Wait… fake date. He nearly forgot these dates aren’t real.

He’s not sure why he let himself get away with calling all these real dates. Clearly, it made you uncomfortable to the point where you felt the need to fake-break up with him. He’s also not sure if he should consider himself lucky that the breakup wasn’t real.

Does this mean the fake Christmas romance thing is back on? You two never actually discussed it, but you did also ask him on a… fake date.

Despite this, there’s still something in the air that’s giving him that tingly feeling. He’s still not sure if that’s the right word. He just knows that standing right next to you on the balcony of an abandoned cafe to witness the arrival of Christmas Day… it feels so, so right. Almost like everything is falling into place.

“Hyunnie… can we talk?”

—

Hyunjin turns to you, his gaze soft, and you freeze in place. Did you really just say that? Now?  What if you ruin Christmas Eve and Christmas because you didn’t wait?

You sigh to yourself, a small puff of air escaping your mouth. You know that this was something you needed to do, both for yourself and your peace of mind. Maybe Jisung, too, and whatever lost money he was moping about that one time. But there’s still ten minutes to midnight. Is that too soon?

No. It’s not. If anything, it’s long overdue. No more running. Plus, if he’s truly your best friend and he doesn’t like you back, nothing should change… right? At least, not for the long term.

“Is everything okay?”

Hyunjin’s honey voice pulls you out of your thoughts. Hyunnie, sweet like honey… wait, Y/N, don’t get distracted. It’s almost midnight.

Take a deep breath.

“Hyunnie, um…” You fiddle with a small object in your pocket as you try to think.

When you look up, he’s nodding. “Yeah?”

Deep breath.

“I’m sorry… I'm sorry for ghosting you and stopping this so suddenly.” You’re blinking and Hyunjin watches as you open your mouth to speak before closing it again. Like the words are at the tip of your tongue, but the courage just hasn’t bubbled up enough. “I…” You take a breath, looking up at anywhere but him as you mumble to yourself, “God, this is so much harder than I thought it’d be.”

You take a little shuffle forward.

“I… I think I realised too late, and by the time I realised, I freaked out and just… I shut down.” You look at him, your eyes boring into each other like you’re both trying to find the centre of each other’s soul. It's too much for you to stomach while you struggle to pull words out of your throat, so you let your gaze fall.

“Realised what?” Hyunjin whispers. You somehow hear it over the crowd of people forming below you.

You shuffle forward unconsciously again, keeping your eyes down. 

“Do— do you hate me?” Hyunjin says.

Eyes wide, you snap your head up and shake your head quickly. “N-No! Of course not.” “Then what—”

Your gaze shoots down and your hand goes for Hyunjin’s. A small gasp leaves his mouth before your brain catches up with the rest of you.

When you finally have the courage to look back up, it’s like everything has blurred into the background. Everything except the boy in front of you, who looks about as shocked as you are at yourself. Is this it? Is this going to be your Hallmark moment?

Deep breath.

“I love you.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wider, his mouth opening and closing like a fish a couple times. He probably thinks someone took over your body, that this isn’t really you.

“You… love me?”

You nod and smile. It’s hard to tell if he’s still in disbelief, but honestly, you can barely believe you’re saying these words. But you mean every single one of them.

“I do… and there’s no one else I’d rather have a Christmas romance with.”

There’s a feverish look grazing Hyunjin’s face, his mouth opened just slightly as he gasps quietly. You swear you can see little stars adorning his pretty brown eyes.

“Well,” you clarify quickly, “a college Christmas romance. But I don’t think I want this to end after we graduate.”

Hyunjin’s eyes are crinkling at the edges, his nose scrunching just slightly with the force of his joy. You’re sure of two things in that moment. One, your own expression must look just as lovesick as his. And two, you’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as Hyunjin under the glow of the lights surrounding the plaza. 

“Y/N, I… can I kiss you?”

From somewhere in the streets below, you recognize the gathered crowd beginning the countdown to midnight. You barely pay it half a mind as you pull the object from your pocket. Hyunjin’s eyes follow you as you hold it up over your heads. It’s a small sprig of mistletoe, and you can’t help the proud smile that sweeps across your face.

“You know, you wanted to hit all the Christmas traditions and you forgot one of the best ones.” 

“God, I love you.”

You practically jump into his arms when he presses his lips against yours. Fireworks explode in your chest as the clock rings twelve and cheers erupt from the streets below. It’s all a buzz in your head, though, as you cup Hyunjin’s cheeks in your hands and melt into his arms and lips and just him. 

You hope he never tries to chase perfection again, because you’re sure that this moment, right now, is the definition of it. Nothing has ever felt so perfect, so right, and nothing else will ever come close.

As if on cue, when you two slowly break the kiss, you feel something wet land on your head. You and your not fake boyfriend?—you’ll have to talk to him about that later—look up to see fluffy, white snowdrops falling all around you two.

“Merry Christmas, Hyunnie,” you say, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Hyunjin has the biggest smile on his face as you pull away. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

You let out a joyful giggle. It looks like Hyunjin got the cheesy Christmas romance he’s been searching his whole life for. It might not have gone the exact way he’d dreamed of, but you hope he is as happy as he has always made you.

And maybe, just maybe, you also got the ending you’d been dreaming of all along.

[symp4nat]

I saw you wanted Dior requesters and I had an idea, so here you go. You don’t have to write it, but thank you so much if you do.

Dior coming home from the gym in her workout gear to find you asleep in her bed wearing her clothes?

Post Workout Nap

dior goodjohn x curly-hair!reader (it isnt said but kinda implied idk)

authors note 1: reader isnt an actor

authors note2: "i- i go, i wanna go, i wanna write" (me when starting to write this at 2 am)

You were tired out of your bones to be able to do anything today. To keep yourself entertained, you tried working on your project for your college classes, listening to music, eating snacks and you even ended up straightening your hair out of pure boredom. Everytime you tried to work on your project, you kept getting distracted, and then frustrated.

Dior had left the house at 2 and told you she would be back by 6. It was now 7 and you were lucky she was the type to tell you if she'd be late. She texted you that she might be an hour late because she was with Malia, Momona and Leah. A few of your friends were invited, but they chose not to go since you weren't.

You didn't mind Dior being out, of course you didn't, it was just, you hadn't seen her for the whole day. In the first half of the day she quickly got dressed and made some breakfast for the two of you and rushed off to the studio. You were glad you got to talk to her for a few minutes in the morning, but you missed her.

Occasionally, Dior went out with her friends without letting you know, but usually she'd pick you up. Her friends adored you.

After a long day of classes, you slipped into one of Dior's hoodies and laid on the couch. You turned on her favourite show and leaned against one of the pillows. Not long after, your eyes drifted close and you snuggled into the pillow. With a startled reaction, you woke up 5 minutes later, disappointed you fell asleep. You continued half-watching the TV, but your eyes kept flickering over to the clock and your phone. 

-

By the time Dior walked in, you were fast asleep on the couch. When she noticed that the TV was still playing, she sighed and went to turn it off where she was met with the sight of you calmly sleeping.

You had one of the strings of Dior's hoodie (that you stole) wrapped around your finger and your other hand curled up into your chest. Dior ran her fingers through your hair and smiled softly.

She couldn't lie, you were always irresistible but right now, you looked so cute, she couldn't resist taking a picture. She did as she wished and put her phone back when she noticed you softly hummed. Dior's hand caressed your cheek and she said, "I'll get the blanket and you can lay on my lap, once I change," she softly mumbled.

Your eye peeked open and a blush covered your face as you noticed her in her workout clothes. She held back a laugh and said gently, "We went out for an early dinner and I had to drop the girls off. Sorry 'm late." You shook your head in understanding. "Food was good," you asked.

Dior nodded and ran upstairs with a shirt on and your blanket. She draped the blanket over your lap and you lifted your head so she could sit where your head was. Once she was comfortable, she pressed play on the show to finish watching the episode you left off on. "Night, pretty girl," she said gently into your hair.

[jobean12-blog]

A Dash of Spice and Everything Nice

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Mob!Bucky AU)

Word Count: 2,375

Summary: Every year you bake for the local charity event Bucky hosts- he might be the boss but he takes care of those in need-and this time you get some extra help.

Author's Note: This is for my ongoing Kinktober celebration and my absolute love for Mob!Bucky- he is one of my kinks forever. You all know how I love him soft and sweet but still in charge. Hope you enjoy, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy🥰

Warnings: it's soft and sweet and fluffy and spicy, reader is sassafrass and Bucky loves it, baking is involved but he really wants to eat something else...o-r-al, p i-n- the-v.

Kinktober Masterlist 2023

Before the front door of the house even closes you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Wow doll face. Smells so good in here.”

He walks into the kitchen and you rush into his outstretched arms. He cradles your face in his large hands, letting his eyes wander over your features before slowly bringing your lips to his. The kiss starts out soft and sweet but in the next moment he has you pinned against the refrigerator, his hand tugging at the tie of your apron.

“Wait, wait,” you whisper along his lips. “I have muffins about to come out of the oven and bread that needs to go in.”

“And I’ve missed you all day,” he counters, giving you a boyish smirk.

“Mm, missed you too,” you purr, kissing the corner of his mouth.

You slip from his grasp and flit around the kitchen, checking timers and dough.

The timer goes off seconds later and you pull the muffins from the oven, checking their readiness before sliding in the pan of chocolate pumpkin bread.

“There,” you say with a contented sigh. “Now for the cookies.”

You’re reaching up for a measuring cup when you feel him at your back, his lips skimming the shell of your ear with his whispered words. “Do you plan on baking all night doll?”

An involuntary shiver runs across your skin and you lean back into his embrace.

“No,” you gasp, craning your neck to the side when his lips meet your shoulder and he trails kisses along your throat. “But these have to be ready for the bake sale tomorrow and a little help will make it go faster.”

He stops, his lips still pressed to your skin.

“Bucky?” you ask with a smile in your voice.

“Fine doll. I’ll help you bake but as soon as we’re done we do what I want.”

You turn in his arms and dance your fingers up his suit jacket. “Don’t we always?”

His lips brush yours before his kiss and he quickly has you in his arms, lifting you onto the countertop.

“Bucky,” you admonish, your voice hardly stern and instead breathy and desperate.

“I know, I know,” he groans.

He steps back and runs a hand through his hair. “What should I do?”

You giggle as you slide off the counter.

“First of all,” you say, sauntering toward him. “You have to take off some of these clothes. Wouldn’t want you getting any flour on your Dior.”

His eyebrows raise. “Think I’m going to like baking.”

You playfully roll your eyes even as you start to gently push his suit jacket from his shoulders. Once it’s off you carefully drape it over the back of the chair and start to work on his button down.

With deft fingers you undo the first few buttons, smoothing your fingertips along his skin.

“Do you want me to get you a tee shirt?” you ask as you continue, pushing the sides of his shirt open to run your nails over his abs.

“Do you want to get me a tee shirt?” he teases back.

“No.”

You slowly remove his shirt and hang it over his suit jacket.

When you reach for his belt buckle he stops you with a firm hand on your wrist.

“Doll,” he warns. “You expect me to help you bake after all this?”

“You have to. I can’t show up to the event without my baked goodies…what will I tell everyone?”

“That your husband spent the whole night fucking your brains out and you didn���t have any time to bake,” he states with finality.

You lift your eyes from his flexing abs. “And they’ll all be too scared to say a word about it but then I won’t raise any money for our charity.”

Your pouty lips are too hard to resist and he takes your chin between his fingers, dragging your mouth to his for a heated kiss.

When he stops your eyes remain closed, your lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you sway on your feet.

“We just have to make two batches of cookies,” you whisper, still savoring his lips.

Your eyes open and you continue working on his belt. Once it hangs loosely at his hips you unbutton his pants and then pull the zipper down, revealing his patterned boxer briefs.

You drop to your knees and start to tug each pant leg off.

“Fuck doll,” he croons. “You always look so good on your knees for me.”

You look up at him and nibble your bottom lip. “You’re not making this any easier, you know.”

“I’m not trying to,” he smirks. “And this was your idea.”

As you stand you glide your fingers along his thighs, reaching up to kiss him when you say, “leave your socks on. Your feet will get cold.”

He chuckles and adjusts himself in his boxers, the outline of his arousal prominent in the tight fabric.

“You’re worried about my feet?”

You give him a look before sashaying out of the kitchen and returning moments later with his slippers. When you drop them at his feet he slides them on with a wry smile.

“You’re sassy when you bake Mrs. Barnes. I like it.”

“Don’t get any more ideas and get over there and read me that recipe,” you say as you shake your whisk his way with a no nonsense look.

“Mm bossy too,” he hums.

“Yeah, yeah…” you mutter, playfully glaring now. “And you’re just letting me do it because you like it.”

“Obviously,” he replies, holding your stare even as the corners of his eyes crinkle in delight.

“Recipe Barnes,” you repeat.

He blows you a kiss and then peers down at the paper, squinting his eyes before bringing it closer to his face. His mouth opens as he turns to you but before he can even get the question out you have his glasses in your hand and you’re holding them out for him.

“Thanks doll face,” he beams with a knowing smile, then looks back at the recipe. “Ok so first we need…”

Once you have the batter ready Bucky stands behind you at the counter, his arms on either side of you while he mixes and you watch.

You wiggle your ass into him and giggle when he growls and pins you with his hips.

“You’re not behaving,” he states.

“Who said anything about behaving?” you ask and do it again.

He stops mixing and grabs your waist. “Doll,” he warns.

You hum quietly and take the spatula to continue, ignoring his groans.

“Is it time to taste test?” he asks as he slides his finger toward the bowl.

“NO!” you shout and slap his hand. “It’s raw!”

“Ow,” he whines, making you laugh.

“Ow my ass! Come on, let’s get these on the pan and in the oven.”

“Can I at least taste something else?” he asks, his eyes sparkling with mischief and his hands pawing at your leggings.

“After,” you answer, trying to stop the tremble of anticipation that runs through you.

When the whole house smells of cinnamon, sugar and spice you sigh in relief and set the timer for the last time.

Bucky stalks toward you and takes you in his arms. “Finally,” he murmurs.

You flatten your palms on his chest. “Not yet. We have to clean up and wait for the cookies to come out. Otherwise, they might burn.”

His eyes darken and he holds you in place. “We’re using the dishwasher.”

“Of course,” you say in agreement, your smile saccharine.

He loads the dishwasher in record time while you wipe down the counters and wrap up the cooled muffins and bread.

The cookie timer goes off and before you can get to the oven he has it open and is pulling the tray out.

“Cookies are done!” he says.

“Let me check them. They might need another two minutes.”

You watch the muscles of his jaw flex as he clenches his teeth but he moves away so you can look them over.

You inspect each cookie carefully.

“Now you’re just trying to torture me doll.”

“They’re perfect,” you say after another perusal. “And I have to admit that it is just a little fun.”

“Is it?” he murmurs as he carefully moves the hot tray out of reach and cages you against the counter.

“Mm hm,” you answer and pull his glasses off.

Your fingertips brush along his cheek and he captures your wrist, softly pressing his lips to your pulse before he kisses your palm.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He nods as he continues to kiss along your skin. “For you, always…now turn around.”

Your breath hitches at his tone and you do as your told, slowly turning until his hard length is pressing into your ass.

He carefully unties your apron and lifts it over your head then drops it to the floor. Your shirt follows, his knuckles lightly skimming your back as he drags the fabric up.

You tremble, goosebumps erupting across your skin at his feather light touches. He kneels and hooks his fingers into your leggings, his every movement deliberate as he peels them off and reveals more of your skin.

His hand traces the curve of your ass before he gives it a hard squeeze and bites down on your soft skin.

You let out a squeal and squirm in his grasp.

A low rumble of approval runs through him as he tugs down your panties, leaving them wrapped around your ankles.

He gently slides two fingers along your calf and then higher until he reaches your inner thigh.

“Bend over and spread your legs,” he demands.

Again, you do as he says, the coolness of the counter a stark contrast to your heated skin.

Long, thick fingers tease your entrance and gather your arousal.

“So ready for me doll,” he praises.

You push back, needing more from him but he smacks your ass, hard, and holds you still with a firm grip.

“That doesn’t mean you get what you want yet,” he simpers, his fingers gliding lightly along your folds.

“Buckyyyyy,” you whine.

His lips brush along your skin, tracing the spot where you thigh meets your ass. He moves inward, sucking and licking and leaving marks in his wake.

When his nose runs along your slit you wiggle in his hold, your repeated pleas filling the air.

He continues to tease you with soft kisses and kitten licks, just barely flicking his tongue over your clit.

With both his hands he grabs hold of your ass cheeks and spreads them, burying his nose just above your pussy so he can slide his tongue through you.

You cry out his name and grip the edge of the counter, rocking back onto his face. He slides one hand between your legs and teases your clit, just enough to have you chasing your release with a cry of his name.

You’re still trying to catch your breath when soft hands lift you from the counter and he cradles you against his chest.

His hands wander reverently, the skim of his calloused fingertips making you clench around nothingness.

“Fuck me, Bucky,” you whisper, straining against him.

He runs his nose along your neck, bringing his lips just below your ear. “Say it again,” he demands.

You lift a hand behind you and curl it into his hair, tugging him closer. “Fuck me, Bucky,” you repeat, reveling in his warm breath as it caresses your skin.

His hands slide over your curves and he grips your hips. “You have no idea what it does to me when you say those words.”

You lean into him and sigh when his cock glides through your wetness. He grabs your chin and turns your head, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet and languid kiss that only fuels your impatience.

When you moan into it, whining his name, he shifts and fills you in one slow thrust.

“Oh my god,” you breathe against his lips. “Bucky…”

All you can feel is him inside of you, his heated skin pressed to yours, his hands, his lips. He’s everywhere and everything.

He deepens the kiss, sliding his hand down to the base of your neck and squeezing lightly. He groans out your name, breaking the kiss and pressing his face into your neck.

“Fuck fuck, fuck,” he chants every time he pounds into you.

“More Bucky. Harder,” you whine.

Suddenly everything is harder and deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with your pleas for more.

You can feel the moment he starts to completely lose control, his labored breathing hot against your neck and his grip tightening as his cock thickens inside you. You finish with his name on your lips, your orgasm rushing through you, the squeeze of your walls taking him right over the edge at the same time.

His hips tense and he growls out your name.

You rest your head back against his strong chest and silently thank him for keeping you standing upright because you feel as if you could melt to the floor.

His hold is gentle when he pulls out and turns you around, his expression one of complete satisfaction as he studies you, catching your lower lip with his thumb. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Your smile is soft as you trace the hard outline of his jaw. “I could say the same about you.”

He chuckles and pulls you closer. “Nothing compares to you, doll.”

His hand slides up your back and he cups the nape of your neck, tilting your head back so he can trail kisses along your throat and collarbone.

 “I can’t believe I let you finish that baking,” he whispers into your skin.

“Me either,” you giggle.

“I want more,” he murmurs as his lips find yours.

“I made an extra loaf of the chocolate pumpkin bread.”

At your deadpan words he tucks your hips against his, the feel of his hard cock making you gasp.

“There’s that sass again,” he tsks. “Guess I didn’t fuck you hard enough this time.”

“Guess not,” you mouth back.

“Good thing we’ve got all night then,” he simpers.

@book-dragon-13 @hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @goldylions @kmc1989