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rafesbangs · 3 days ago

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was literally just reading all your work and you write so well!! new fav blog fr, i was wondering (if you're interested) if we could have some rafe x kook bestf!reader fluff, angst kinda one-shot story? thank youuu !! <3

thank you soso much ml !! ofc ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

req! 𝜗𝜚 kook!reader sneaks out to a boneyard kegger, & bsf!rafe gets pretty protective.

c!w; fluff ! for once, bsf!rafe, soft!rafe, possessiveness, overprotective guy friend, icky males, drinking, a brief physical fight, tiny mention of blood, mostly very fluffy with a tinge of angst ! notes; i can't believe this is my first fluff work lol ! i kinda wrote loads oopsie, i hope you enjoy <3

you sneak out of your house, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards. the night air is cool against your skin as you walk through the empty streets, the buzz of the kegger ahead growing louder with each step. it’s just past midnight when you reach the boneyard, the ground is uneven, the sand mixing with beer-stained grass, and the smell of salty air mingles with the faint scent of weed and sweat.

you grab a red solo cup from the keg, its warmth feeling strange against your fingers. your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the sight of everyone laughing, shouting, and dancing—people you mostly know but can never remember their names the next day. you slip into the chaos, easing into conversations, letting the alcohol dull the edges of the night. everything’s blurry, but in a good way, like you can finally breathe.

“hey,” a voice says, way too close to your ear. you turn, finding some random boy—a touron, probably. his blue eyes are too wide, his grin a little too eager. “you’re cute. want a drink?”

you arch an eyebrow, taking a small step back. “no, thanks. i've got one,” you say, trying to keep your tone light. you’re not interested, but you don’t want to be rude.

he doesn’t get the hint. instead, he takes a half-step toward you, leaning in as though he’s trying to get into your personal space. “oh come on, don’t be like that. one drink won’t hurt.”

you cross your arms and take another step back, annoyance creeping up your spine. “i said no, okay?”

he just laughs like it’s some kind of game, and that’s when you start to feel the frustration bubble up. you don’t want to make a scene, but it’s clear this guy doesn’t know how to take a hint. every time you move away, he follows.

“seriously, i’m not interested,” you snap, voice growing more annoyed. “go find someone else.”

the boy’s smile falters, but his hand comes out to touch your arm, a move that feels more possessive than friendly. before you can even say anything else, a shadow cuts through the crowd, and you hear a familiar voice bark, “hey, man, leave her alone.”

you glance over, relief flooding you when you see rafe, your best friend, pushing through the crowd, eyes narrowed and jaw tight. his presence has always been a kind of shield for you, and this time, it’s no different.

the touron boy looks up at rafe, sizing him up like he’s about to say something smart, but rafe doesn’t wait. he steps closer, his voice colder than you’ve ever heard it. “i said, leave her the hell alone.”

the tourist smirks. “or what?”

before you can even blink, rafe’s already moved. his fist connects with the touron's jaw, knocking the boy off balance, and the crowd around you steps back, forming a ring. it’s over before you can process what’s happening—a punch here, a shove there, and the guy crumbles. rafe doesn’t stop. another hit to the stomach, and the touron goes down, blood trickling from his lip.

you’re frozen for a moment, shock settling in your chest, but when rafe finally steps back, you see the blood smeared across his knuckles and the red pooling around his nose. it’s not much, but it’s enough to make your heart stop for a second.

“oh my god, rafe,” you rush to him, your hands hovering at his shoulders as you try to figure out what to do. “are you okay? your nose…”

he swipes at it with the back of his hand, but it only makes it worse. his eyes narrow, his face flushed with anger, but his voice is rough, like he’s trying to convince himself he’s fine. “yeah, i’m fine. it’s just a scratch.”

“rafe…” you trail off, frustration mixing with your worry. you want to help, but he’s already brushing you off, turning his back to you to walk away.

“let’s get out of here,” he mutters, walking toward the edge of the party. you follow, watching him, unsure of what to say. your stomach twists, unsure whether to be relieved that it’s over or angry that he’s hurt, again, because of you.

the two of you make your way down the beach, the sounds of the party growing distant behind you. it’s too quiet, and you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

“you shouldn’t have done that,” you say finally, breaking the silence. you’re still angry, but your voice cracks with worry. “you didn’t have to get into that fight. you could’ve just-”

“and you shouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night to get drunk at a kegger alone!” rafe snaps, his voice rougher than usual, and you flinch at the bite in his words. “what the hell were you thinking? you know i worry about you.”

you swallow hard, the sting of his anger hitting you like a slap. “i didn’t mean to… i wasn’t trying to-”

“you’re reckless,” he interrupts, throwing his hands up in frustration, and you step back, feeling the weight of it settle deep in your chest. his words cut through you, sharper than you want to admit, and you stare at the sand beneath your feet.

“i’m sorry,” you say quietly, your voice small now, “i didn’t mean to make you worry. i didn’t-”

rafe stops walking and turns to face you, the moonlight catching the blood on his hands and the jagged split on his knuckles. he looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening just a little.

“it’s not just that,” he mutters, the words barely above a whisper. “i care about you. i don’t want anything to happen to you.”

you feel your chest tighten, your heart fluttering unexpectedly. you step closer to him, unsure of what to say, but then your arms are around him, pulling him into a tight hug.

“'m sorry rafe. thank you f'caring, so much about me” you whisper into his shirt, the words soft, sincere. you feel the tension in his body for a moment, like he’s not sure what to do with this closeness, but then he wraps his arms around you too, just a little hesitantly at first, before he holds you tightly.

“don’t thank me,” he mutters, his voice breaking a little. “i’m just... doing what you deserve.”

but when you pull back to look at him, his eyes are full of something else, something that feels a little more vulnerable. you reach up, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, and that’s when you see a tear, slipping down his cheek, a quiet, unexpected crack in his facade.

“rafe…” your voice trembles. “what’s wrong?”

he swallows hard, avoiding your gaze. “it’s just… no one ever thanks me for caring. they just expect me to always be the one looking out for everyone else, but no one ever... gives a damn about me.”

you blink, heart catching in your throat. “that’s not true,” you say, pulling him back in closer, holding him tighter. “i care. i always care.”

he sniffles, his shoulders shaking just slightly as he pulls away, his expression softening but still strained. “dad doesn’t love me 's much as he loves sarah. he’s always telling me how proud he is of her. he- he never says it t'me. and i try so hard. i do everything f'him, everything to make him proud. 'm just invisible to him”

the weight of his words hits you like a punch to the gut, and you squeeze him tighter, not knowing what else to say. “’m so sorry, rafe,” you murmur, your voice thick with emotion. “i can’t imagine what that must feel like. but you’re not invisible t'me. you never will be.”

his breath hitches, and then, finally, he lets go. tears slip down his face now, the kind he’s always kept hidden. you hold him as he breaks down, your arms around him, offering what little comfort you can.

you both sit there in the sand for a long time, the sound of the ocean surrounding you, the night stretching on like a long, quiet exhale. finally, rafe pulls back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“thanks for being here,” he says, voice still rough, but softer than before. “for… f'caring.”

you smile at him, your heart full. “always, rafe. i’m always here for you.”

when you finally sneak back to your house, you help him up to your room. in the soft glow of your bedroom light, you clean the blood off his hands, gently tending to his wounds. rafe watches you, the affection in his eyes evident as he gazes at you with a softness you don’t see often.

“y'always so damn careful with me,” he murmurs, his voice full of something unspoken.

“'ts because i care,” you whisper, holding his hand in yours, feeling the warmth between you that has always been there.

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bilightningwhumper · 21 hours ago

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Well dang, I just about teared up when both @flowersarefreetherapy and @sir-fenris tagged me in this post. I don't know what to say other than thank you! I love seeing your posts and writing and can't wait for a whole new year of more!

This side blog is still fairly new and I'm still learning everyone's names and which writing pieces belong to who and getting used to all the new names appearing in my notifications. So I'm just going to tag a whole ton of people I've just enjoyed interacting with, reading their writing, inspired by their prompts, and just in general showing up in my notifications all the time.

In no particular order (not adding the two I already tagged, but you're also included in the list!):

@whumperofworlds @whumpsmith @cupcakes-and-pain @melpomenelamusa @inhurtandincomfort @j4yj44y @maracujatangerine @bexbabbles @engineering-a-better-world @i-eat-worlds @ryahisbored @whumpster-dumpster @whump-galaxy @whump-me-harder @writinglittlepains @rivenantiqnerd @chaoticdragonsstuff @justplainwhump @whumpsoda @defire @scoundrelwithboba @sickficprompts @sickfictropes @paingoes @serickswrites @peachy-panic @thoughtsonhurtandcomfort @whump-me @winedark-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

You all make me smile and let this former lurker turned newcomer feel welcome in the whump community and general writing community here on Tumblr. Thank you all for being here and just being you! Much apologies to anyone I've forgotten because I know I definitely missed more than a few people.

It means a lot to my autistic adhd self to just be included here. Between my constant switching story thoughts and internalized "don't trust strangers on the internet" (as well as other internal fears), I've been afraid to reach out and really make friends here, but I hope in the new year to make more structure here and to reach out more personally.

Saw someone do this. Thought it would be fun!

End of year important people list (whump community edition!)

Reblog and tag all of your favorite whump creators, friends in the whump community, anyone in the whump community really, and let them know how much you care about them!

#whump #whump community #whump positivity

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bvidzsoo · 22 hours ago

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Is Santa the new Cupid?

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x gender neutral reader

❆ Warning: none, no usage of Y/N ❆ Word count: 5.9k ❆ Rating: sfw ❆ Genre: holiday themed, office romance, mutual pinning, brother's best friend, fluff ❆ Summary: With the holiday's rolling around, everyone is in a festive spirit. You're not a huge fan of Christmas, but your brother is, so, he organises a Secret Santa themed party at work. What you don't expect, however, is for him to scheme to try and bring you together with your work crush.

A/N: ~Ho, ho, ho, @hee0soo your Secret Santa is here! ^^ I hope this story is to your liking and that you will enjoy it! As for everyone else, hello, my lovelies! This is a little event I partook in, and I'd like to thank @cromernet for hosting it, being in this server has been nothing but a pleasure! <3 To those who celebrate it, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and to those who don't, a well earned rest and an overall joyful time! I hope everyone will enjoy this little piece, and if I don't write anything in the upcoming days, then I wish you a Happy New Year, and I shall see you in the next year! Thank you for being here and for supporting me, for all the feedback and kindness, you make writing a little more pleasant! I'll let you go on and read now, I hope you enjoy! Your feedback is always appreciated! <33 divider

The holidays had always been a mess. No matter where you looked, people were stressing about getting the perfect gifts, the most glamorous outfits, the best seasoning for their food, and the most colourful decorations they could get their hands on. The sight was enough to send you into another spiral of why you thought this whole fussing about a celebration—that not everyone celebrates, by the way—was so unnecessary and only damaging your health, raising your cortisol levels. But alas, this is how the world worked, and you couldn’t go against it. Your flat was minimally decorated, and you were still debating whether you’d get a Christmas tree this year or not. There was no point in throwing out money if you weren’t wholeheartedly in tune with the whole holiday…that is unless your nosy brother decides to take over your flat like last year and turn it into a whole Christmas fest. You swear you were finding glitter even a month later in places like your salt shaker and the medical cabinet in your bathroom. Seonghwa loved everything shiny, so when his lovely sibling refused to abide by his wishes, he put his persuasive skills to use and coerced you into the most blinding corset you could have ever found. Which brings us to the current time, with you hiding out in your brother’s office and furiously scrubbing at the stained red glitter. Nothing was working, your co-worker’s red wine would be forever embedded into your pricey piece of clothing.

You didn’t blame him, it was an unfortunate accident. The waiter was walking by with a tray filled with cheese when your co-worker had thrust his hand backwards, calling for a disaster. Which happened mere seconds later when the beverage sloshed all over your chest and the top of the sweetheart neckline of your corset. You sighed as you gave it one last try, perhaps if you put more passion into it then you might be able to make the stain fade a little bit. The fabric of the corset was a bright red and the dark stain was rather visible despite the glittery studs that covered it. You had told Seonghwa that the outfit was a bit too much for an office Christmas party, but he only told you to suck it up and wear it unless you didn’t want to be on theme. Which you were, thanks to your brother, except that seemingly everyone else had gone for more casual or silly outfits, and here were you…wearing a sexy sparkly—now ruined—corset, and some black wide-legged pants that hid the stilettos which matched the colour of your top. With a frustrated groan, you flopped into the chair placed in front of your brother’s desk and closed your eyes, accepting your fate.

You would’ve further ruined the fabric at this point if you kept on scrubbing the way you were, and that would be a waste of Seonghwa’s money…since he was the one to get you this outfit. He was rather pushy this year, it was suspicious, but you didn’t question it. Your brother had always been a bit weird, particular about the things he liked, and a perfectionist in everything he did…but at least he spoiled you well, so you couldn’t really complain. The cacophony of the ongoing party from beyond the door reminded you that you couldn’t hide out in your brother’s office anymore, so you took a deep breath and told yourself that everyone would understand how the stain got there without ridiculing you. Your co-worker already felt terrible for being so clumsy, and you weren’t even mad at him. The door which you had left ajar was suddenly flung open, and your eyes widened when you saw who had walked inside. Great, just what you needed…your work crush to see you in this state of despair when today was supposed to be filled with jolliness. You quickly stood and dusted off your pants out of habit, trying to keep yourself calm and collected…which was something you often failed to do in Kim Hongjoong’s presence.

He wore something similar, suspiciously, and for a millisecond you wondered if this was Seonghwa’s work, who wasn’t just your brother, but also Hongjoong’s best friend. When you say work crush…you mean the longest crush you’ve had on anyone since you’ve been hopelessly pinning on Hongjoong since like…high school. Embarrassing, but you were a few years younger, and Hongjoong was too cool to notice you or regard you as anyone else than his best friend’s younger sibling. Hongjoong’s cat-like eyes widened as the two of you stared at each other wordlessly, and you realized his blazer looked an awful lot like your corset. It was the same shade and had the same sparkly studs, the shoulders were puffed out, and it was cropped, stopping right above Hongjoong’s waist. He had always been stylish, and he loved going all out at events like this one. His long black pants reached below his ankles, and the huge black bow tied around his waist truly elevated the whole look. His satin white shirt was spotless, unlike your stained corset. You wished you had something to cover it with…you supposed perfectionism ran in the family, after all.

“Hi.” Hongjoong broke your wordless staring contest, and you gulped down your nerves, trying to smile at him. You’ve been working together for two years, for God’s sake, you couldn’t freeze anytime Hongjoong even as much as looked at you.

“Hi.” You greeted back lamely, and you were thankful that your voice wasn’t squeaky at least. Hongjoong’s eyes took a quick sweep of your body, and you fought against yourself to keep at bay the blush blooming over your cheeks.

“Is everything okay?” Hongjoong, the ever-considerate guy he was, asked with a concerned look on his face, “I saw you storm off and…I thought maybe something happened.”

How could you not have a crush on this man when he acted like this?

“Oh, I’m alright, don’t worry.” Except that you weren’t exactly, and you knew he could see it on your face, so, you sighed defeated, “Well, okay, Mingi spilt his wine on me and now my corset is stained…and I hate it because everyone can see it.”

You were pouting as you looked down at the darker spot on your corset, and maybe you became a bit sulkier when Hongjoong just chuckled. He looked adorable with his lips curling upward, fighting the urge to outwardly laugh in your face. That was nice of him, you were glad he was nice enough to not make fun of you…not that Hongjoong would make fun of anyone, he was the first one to shut down even the hint of bullying if he came across it.

“Sounds like it’s the end of the world,” Hongjoong teased you, and you rolled your eyes in exchange, “Did you bring a blazer?”

“No,” You shook your head, flopping back down on the chair, “Only a huge fur coat, and I can’t wear that in here…especially since it’s white and people like Mingi exist.”

That made Hongjoong laugh as he nodded, his eyebrows furrowing in thought, “Well, I also suppose you didn’t bring a backup outfit?”

“No, Hongjoong,” You sighed, “Not everyone is as well prepared as you are.”

He hummed knowingly, his office having a wardrobe dedicated to outfits Hongjoong brought in for emergency meetings or occasions. He was well prepared, and most importantly, always well dressed. He had been like that since high school, wearing the edgiest outfits he could find, painting his nails, and experimenting with his hairstyles. Something he hadn’t stopped doing ever since, hence his two-coloured hair at the moment. His middle part was perfect, the left side of his hair bleached blonde while the right side remained a raven black. It looked good on him, too good, and it brought back memories of when he had tried it out for the first time in his final year of college. Just remembering it made you almost blush again, the image of screaming about it into a pillow after running into Hongjoong was still too vivid in your mind.

“Allow me to help you out then, stay here.” Before you could question Hongjoong, he was already out of the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a racing heart. What could he possibly have in mind? You had always seen him as a creative person—I mean, he really was considering the fact he was in charge of the graphic design department—and he had never shied away from a little challenge. Except that, he wasn’t facing a challenge right now, and you wondered what he had in mind since it brought that excited glint in his eyes, it happened whenever he thought of something brilliant. Because honestly, all of Hongjoong’s ideas were brilliant. You couldn’t help but admire him for being always ahead of the deadlines and thinking up new innovative ways that made you the best on the market. He was a great asset to your brother’s company, everyone valued and respected Hongjoong for all the dedication and hard work he put into his craft.

You were startled out of your thoughts as Hongjoong returned, holding a satin shirt on a green hanger. He had a grin on his lips as you stood, watching him approach you, ultimately making your heart hammer in your chest.

“So, you can borrow this for the evening.” Hongjoong said with a smile, taking the shirt off the hanger as he came to stand in front of you, “It’ll cover up the stain, and won’t make you feel too warm either.”

“Oh, I…that’s so kind of you, but I can’t accept it—”

“Nonsense,” Hongjoong chuckled, brushing you off without hesitation, “Do you want me to help you wear it?”

That would’ve been really embarrassing, so you quickly shook your head and took the shirt from his hands, your fingers accidentally brushing. Your cheeks were burning, and you avoided looking Hongjoong in the eyes as you carefully wore his shirt, trying to keep your screaming thoughts at bay. This felt like a daydream taken straight out of your teenage years. The seventeen-year-old you would be fainting right now if they were to know this would happen years later, even if Hongjoong wasn’t your boyfriend. The fabric was soft and didn’t feel suffocating, and you tried to ignore Hongjoong’s expensive cologne that seemed to cling to it. It had a hint of sweetness in it, but it was rather masculine and woody otherwise. And despite your family being gifted by the gods of height, you didn’t inherit that gene, which made you smaller than even Hongjoong, who wasn’t the tallest of people. The sleeves of the shirt covered your fingers, only your sparkly red nails visible—which was another scheme pulled by Seonghwa. You rarely did your nails red, let alone sparkly.

“Thank you, Hongjoong.” You said quietly, trying not to chew on your bottom lip since it would ruin your lipgloss, making your teeth tinted. And then, as if your heart wasn’t about to malfunction already, Hongjoong stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. You froze and peeked up at him through your eyelashes, watching as a soft smile appeared on his lips. A few black strands fell into his eyes, and you could tell he had used a bit of dark eyeshadow to sharpen his eyes more, giving it depth. His skin was perfect and his pretty lips were red from the cherry lip balm he’s been using since forever.

“There, now it’s perfect,” Hongjoong muttered more to himself, still smoothing down the collar as he started helping you button up the shirt since you had forgotten you were supposed to do that in the first place. Your fingers trembled slightly from the adrenaline rush in your system, and you bit your bottom lip when your knuckles brushed against Hongjoong’s as your hands met while doing the buttons. Hongjoong huffed in amusement, then grabbed your arms to look at the sleeves. You watched him as you let him do as he wished, and he rolled up the sleeve twice so that it would fit you nicely. He looked gorgeous from up close, especially when he was in his element, doing what he liked the most. Sometimes you wondered why he hadn’t become a stylist, his vision was so beautiful, and you had seen the sketches he had made recently. You just knew his brand would be successful all around the world, his designs delicate and modest, but elegant and full of glamour. Now that the shirt was all done, all you had to do was put the hem inside your pants so that you didn’t look like you had just gotten out of bed and borrowed your boyfriend’s clothes.

You blushed even harder at the thought of Hongjoong being your boyfriend, and you were alarmed to find him already looking at you when you peeked at him. Hongjoong’s ears were redder than before, and he had a sheepish smile on his face. His cheeks were dusted a light pink too, and you wondered if his heart was racing as much as yours. You cleared your throat to thank him for his help when there was a loud knock on the open door, making you both jump. Hongjoong whirled around and awkwardly put some distance between you and himself as Seonghwa’s otherwise round eyes were now sharp and narrowed, a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Would you look at that! The two who were missing from the party, fraternizing in my office…” Seonghwa’s tone had a hint of teasing in it as he raised an eyebrow, his eyes slipping from you to his best friend. Hongjoong laughed awkwardly and rubbed his nape, throwing you a glance before he looked back at Seonghwa.

“I was just—”

“Is that Hongjoong’s shirt?” Seonghwa didn’t let his best friend speak as he pointed at you, now both eyebrows raised in surprise. You nodded, ready to explain yourself, but Seonghwa clearly didn’t care, “Did I miss something? Either way, it looks lovely on you, dear, even if it’s a bit too…roomy?”

“Seonghwa—”

Clearly, when your brother had set his mind onto something, he just wouldn’t listen to anyone, “I’m all for offering my office up to those in need, but maybe you should use Hongjoong’s the next time you want to cosy up. In fact—I might even give you, dear, an office. You’ve earned it after the year we had.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother, opening your mouth to speak up, but he raised his hand, “Come on now, I’m about to make my speech and you’ll have to swap your presents.”

Right, the presents…for the person you had randomly picked out of a small vase. And that person was…Hongjoong, as cliché as that sounds. You cleared your throat as Seonghwa turned his back to you and Hongjoong, who gave you a curt nod and followed after his best friend in order to give you privacy so you could fix the shirt. You took a deep breath and stuffed the fabric into your pants, glad that you had worn a belt since it cut the outfit in half nicely.

The company was packed with employees, everyone looking excited as Seonghwa made his way towards the fake podium he had giddily asked Hongjoong to make for him. He had a microphone and everything to make it more enjoyable for him, all placed in front of the massive Christmas tree that had been a hassle to get inside the office, but also to decorate. Your brother’s company wasn’t huge, and that was exactly why it worked so well. Everyone was eager to move forward and make something bigger than them, so the community was tight-knit and hard-working. You were on the sales team, not quite in the leader position yet, but you were getting there. You enjoyed what you did and that was all that mattered, plus, the paycheck was pretty nice. And anytime you didn’t like something, you could always bug the CEO until he finally gave in to you…those were the perks of involving your family with your business, much to Seonghwa’s dismay at times.

You took your place behind your tallest co-workers, who were huddled together and watching something on Yunho’s phone. The waiter walked towards you and handed you a glass of champagne to toast with once your brother was done with his speech, and you couldn’t help but grin when Hongjoong came to stand next to you. He returned your grin, and when you looked away, he continued to stare at you with adoration, thinking to himself how cute you looked wearing his shirt. Hongjoong quickly shook his head to clear his thoughts and focus on his best friend, who was standing on the podium made by him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you, everyone, for attending this little party. I am more than elated to announce that we have come close to another end of year where I can confidently say our company’s been doing better than ever. I am proud and happy to have a team so dedicated as you guys, and I hope the next year holds even greater things for us. Maybe the next party will be held on a private island, at the company’s expense, of course.” People chuckled around you, everyone was well aware you weren’t doing that well yet, but that was the goal. Mingi noticed you stood behind him and gave you a pout, making you pat his shoulder as Yunho glanced between you and Hongjoong, then grinned, “We’ve had our ups and downs this year, perhaps have faced even more challenges than before, but with everyone’s help, we pushed through and made the biggest profit of the company so far. I truly am so proud of each one of you, because, without you, I wouldn’t be standing here, able to live the dreams I’ve had since I was a kid. Before I end my speech, I’d like to especially thank Kim Hongjoong for bringing in our biggest partner, and for having great ideas that pushed our company towards success. When we were teenagers, everything that we have today was just a far-fetched dream, and now…we have it, Hongjoong, we did it, brother. I think it’s time we celebrate as we should.”

Everyone cheered as you watched your brother get teary-eyed, looking at Hongjoong with deep respect and love on his face. Hongjoong raised his glass of champagne and tipped it in Seonghwa’s direction, his composure collected, but you could see he had gotten a bit teary-eyed too. You smiled fondly as you watched your brother run his fingers through his long hair, a habit when he was nervous, and then he raised his glass, prompting the others to do so as well.

“Let us celebrate now, but please don’t mess up the electricity wiring like last year, I still have no idea how that happened…” Everyone looked amused as Seonghwa shook his head, then tipped his champagne back, and you followed as you took an experimental sip. It was a bit bitter and too bubbly, but you took a larger gulp out of respect for Seonghwa, “And now, let us open the presents! I hope nobody forgot whose Secret Santa they were!”

Right, the dreaded moment had come. You handed your glass of champagne to Yunho when you noticed he was already finished with his, and he gave you a wink as he quickly downed your champagne too. Now that the moment everyone had been waiting for came, you all migrated towards the big round table that was littered with gifts inside wrapping paper and small winter-themed bags. Yours was a smaller package with a blue font and white snowflakes on it, placed right in the middle of the table. You waited until you made it closer to the table, then leaned over to grab it with sweaty hands. You were nervous, but you were more scared that Hongjoong would hate his present. You truly hoped he didn’t, but then again, even if he did, you’d never be able to tell…Hongjoong had a great poker face. You turned around and looked for him, only to find him already approaching you. Surely, he wasn’t…wait, you quickly looked towards your brother, who was already watching you with an amused smirk. God, this is why you didn’t like telling Seonghwa anything about your crushes…he had always meddled, even back in high school.

You wanted the earth to eat you up as Hongjoong smiled at you sweetly, looking a bit embarrassed as he came to stand in front of you, “So, uh, we meet again.”

God, he could be so awkward at times, you chuckled embarrassed, “Right, as if we weren’t standing next to each other a second ago.”

But you weren’t better either, Mingi and Yunho, who had also somehow picked each other, snorted as they passed by you and Hongjoong, having overheard your conversation. Gosh, this was so embarrassing, you wanted to flip Seonghwa off and then drag him to his office and lecture him. You were pretty sure this wasn’t done by accident, there was no way on earth both Hongjoong and you had picked each other randomly.

“So, I know you don’t like the whole holiday season that much, but uhm, Merry Christmas.” Hongjoong handed you his gift with both hands, his eyes twinkling with excitement, and suddenly you didn’t hate the thought of gift-giving and receiving that much. You took your gift and handed him his.

“Merry Christmas, Hongjoong, and thank you for the gift too.” It felt awkward standing like that there, facing each other like two strangers, so you took your courage in your hands and stepped forward to hug him. Hongjoong’s eyes widened once he realised your intention, but he opened his arms as you came to hold his torso, making sure you wouldn’t dirty his blazer with your makeup despite it being transfer-proof. You could feel your heart hammer against your chest, and you hoped Hongjoong couldn’t feel it as he embraced you, holding you close as suddenly slow music started playing through the speakers. You knew it was Seonghwa’s doing because you could practically feel his eyes on you, but you ignored your annoying brother and focused on Hongjoong’s warmth instead. But to your surprise, he started slowly swaying the two of you to the rhythm of the song, humming next to your ear. You were both still holding your gifts, and the distance between your bodies made it a little awkward, but you weren’t about to say anything. Hongjoong has never held you like this before, you felt like you were soaring through the sky right now as you tried not to inhale loudly, hoping his scent would never leave your nostrils.

“We might as well dance since we are already embracing…” Hongjoong muttered and you hummed, stepping closer so that you could hold each other better. Your face was beat red and your stomach was doing back flips, but you were smiling so widely your cheeks hurt. You couldn’t be too sure that Hongjoong liked you back, there were small moments when he had tried getting closer or did something that was beyond a friendly gesture, but you didn’t want to face heartbreak in case this was just a one-sided crush…which it most probably was. You didn’t really think he’d finally notice you after all those years you had known each other, you also didn’t think you were much his type. He had always dated people who were like him, creative and basically in love with life, happy to be alive and ready to discover everything. You were more of the quiet type, content with living a comfortable life and never going out of your way to do too much. You liked your space and security, planning ahead and having a vision that would help you stay aligned with your purpose and wishes. Hongjoong wasn’t as organised and he went with the flow, unafraid and unapologetic. And despite the two of you being so different, you couldn’t help but find him the most interesting person you had ever come across.

After an hour or so of dancing and enjoying your time with your co-workers, you were ready to take a breather. It was too cold outside and you were too overheated to go out, you couldn’t risk catching a cold right around the holidays, so you went back to the round table and took a seat, reaching for a clean cup to pour some peach juice for yourself. You didn’t get the chance to open your gift from Hongjoong yet, so, you grabbed it off the table again and looked through it, your eyes widening when you realised what Hongjoong had gotten for you. You had a bunny at home, a sweet little white thing called Star because it was supposed to be Seonghwa’s initially, but he had discovered he was allergic to her, so he had to give her away. Seonghwa and you had always loved bunnies, so your brother knew she was in safe hands with you. And Hongjoong, the always thoughtful person, had bought various treats for your little Star. But that wasn’t everything, a pink princess costume was packed neatly inside the bag as well, making you grin from ear to ear. Star would look lovely in that, Seonghwa will absolutely love it too once you send him pictures.

But that wasn’t all as you reached inside to grab the small jewellery box, your mouth felt a little bit dry. You paused and looked around, wanting to make sure no one was watching you, but secretly you were also looking for Hongjoong. He was on the dance floor, entertaining Yunho and Mingi who were spinning him around. Hongjoong’s cheeks were red and he kept laughing, the contagious sound reached your ears and made you smile as something warm spread through your chest. Gosh, sometimes you really wish you didn’t have a crush on the most adorable man in the whole world. Glancing back down at your last gift, you braced yourself and opened it up, only for your jaw to drop open. There, in the dainty box, sat a rose gold necklace with a diamond pendant. It wasn’t the fact that Hongjoong had gifted you a diamond necklace that made your heart race, but the fact that you’ve always wanted one in this style. Maybe some would consider you shallow, but you have always liked diamonds. They were gorgeous in the light, and if the stone wasn’t too big, it looked gorgeous. You gulped, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions because you had been mentioning the fact that you’d want to buy yourself a diamond necklace once you could afford it ever since you were just a little kid. To be fair, you had always thought Seonghwa would be the one to surprise you and gift you this, but coming from Hongjoong…you tried to gulp down the lump in your throat.

This wasn’t helping with your one-sided crush, because now all you wanted to do was run up to Hongjoong and kiss him while you cried. The fact that he had even paid enough attention to remember your biggest wish managed to knock you breathless, you needed a second to gather yourself. Your hands shook slightly as you raised it to your eyes, taking in the pendant, and admiring its beauty. It was perfect. The same size and shape you had always envisioned, it was modest and gorgeous. You released a shuddering breath just as you realised someone was approaching you, and your eyes were a little watery as you looked up. Seonghwa had a soft smile on his lips as he walked up to you, and then crouched down in front of you.

“Hey,” He greeted you softly, looking down at the necklace in your hands. He didn’t even seem surprised, he looked pleased as he hummed, looking back up at you, “You opened your presents, I see. I bet you love it, don’t you?”

“It’s a diamond necklace, Hwa,” You whispered, eyes widening slightly, “From Hongjoong. This is…crazy. I know I’ve been mentioning it for ages, but I didn’t think that he…”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows at you as you trailed off, seemingly lost for words, “That he was listening? Hongjoong has always paid attention to you, dear.”

Really? Was that true? Seonghwa wouldn’t lie to you, you felt your heart race all of a sudden. Seonghwa reached out and took the necklace from your hands, walking around you once he stood up. He pulled your hair to the side and clipped the necklace in place, making you reach up to touch the pendant. It was the perfect length too, why was Hongjoong so perfect when he couldn’t even be yours? You sniffed and willed your tears to go away, pouting a little as Seonghwa walked around to come face-to-face with you again. He grinned and grabbed your hands, pulling you up.

“Don’t cry, you’ll ruin your pretty makeup,” He teased you with a wink and you groaned, bottling your feelings up for later, when you were alone and in the safety of your apartment, where only Star could witness your crying session, “I know it’s not technically Christmas yet and that we’ll see each other back home in less than three days for the annual feast, but I got you a present too.”

See, there was no denying that Seonghwa and you were siblings. You grinned and reached inside your pants pocket, grabbing the Spa Coupon you had gotten for him.

“You deserve to relax, you’ve done a lot for the company.” Seonghwa patted your head, messing up your hair a little bit in true brother fashion, “And you can’t use your phone while you’re there, dear, that’s not how you relax.”

Seonghwa handed over the small ticket, and you stared at it for a second before you burst out laughing. His eyebrows furrowed as he watched you, but then his face turned incredulous before he started laughing too once you handed him your gift for him. Seonghwa had bought you a Spa Coupon too, from the same place you had bought his too. You laughed as you waved your coupons at each other, already knowing you’d get a scolding from your mother for not being a bit more creative with your gifts.

“Wait, don’t tell me you got one for mom too…” Seonghwa trailed off, his eyes widening slightly.

“Let me guess, you got one for dad too?” You raised an eyebrow and Seonghwa nodded innocently, prompting you to shake your head as you both snickered.

“Well, seems like we’ll be spending some quality time as a family over the break.” Seonghwa grinned, pocketing his coupon, and then he placed his hands behind his back, looking somewhere behind you.

“Ugh, great, now mom won’t get off my back about me finding a boyfriend somehow finally.” You grimaced, not keen on going home only to listen to your mother’s nagging. She never stopped asking, never stopped trying to set you up on blind dates. It was annoying because she never did that for Seonghwa…at least you had a crush, he couldn’t even bother with that.

“Speaking of boyfriends…” Seonghwa wriggled his eyebrows and you groaned, ready to deny whatever he was about to say, but it wasn’t what you were expecting, “Did you notice you were sitting under a mistletoe?”

“What?” You muttered, looking up confused. Now how the hell did that get there? If you reckon correctly, it wasn’t there like half an hour ago, you had come to the table to grab a drink and it wasn’t there, so how—Seonghwa. The answer was always Seonghwa, “I swear to God, Hwa, you’re my brother. What are you plotting? I refuse to peck even as much as your cheek.”

“I won’t even get a hug?” Seonghwa fake pouted, his eyes glinting wickedly. Nothing good came when Seonghwa had that look in his eyes, you gulped nervously.

“No, now—”

“Fine.” Seonghwa sighed exaggeratedly, “Hate me all you want, but I’m the best brother in the world. If you won’t show me some love, I know exactly who else you could cheer up right now—Hongjoong, can you come over for a little bit?!”

Your eyes widened and you whacked Seonghwa in the chest, turning around frantically. Oh no, Hongjoong was already approaching with a skip in his step, unassuming of what he was walking up to. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was deliciously brushed back, his blazer gone and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

“Yeah? You need something?” He called as he walked around the table and Seonghwa stepped aside, making your eyes widen.

“Sure, come here for a second,” Seonghwa said nonchalantly, and by the time you opened your mouth to tell Hongjoong not to fall for Seonghwa’s trap, it was too late. Seonghwa stepped aside and lightly pushed Hongjoong towards you, making both of you panic as you grabbed Hongjoong’s arm so he wouldn’t accidentally fall.

“What—”

“Attention, everyone!” Seonghwa called loudly, shouting over the music, and you were terrified. Hongjoong looked rather confused and looked at you for an answer that you couldn’t formulate at the moment, “We have our first couple under the mistletoe for the night! Now, kiss!”

Everyone was watching the two of you now, and you wanted to strangle Seonghwa as he smirked at you pleased, throwing him a wink when Hongjoong gave your brother a flabbergasted look. He slowly looked up, then back at you, and you started sweating.

“Uhm, we don’t have to, obviously. This tradition is silly, I don’t—”

But it was too late, the whole office was chanting, “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Hongjoong had turned red in the face, it went down even to his neck. He gulped and chuckled awkwardly, and you felt horrible. Of course, he wouldn’t want to kiss you, this was terrible and you felt humiliated. Just as you were about to excuse yourself and run off, Hongjoong cleared his throat.

“Well, this isn’t how I wished for our first kiss to happen, but…” He motioned around himself, at all the people staring at you expectantly, “May I kiss you?”

“You—I’m sorry, but—you want to kiss me?” You sputtered out, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“I’ve wanted to for ages.” Hongjoong chuckled and scratched the back of his head. He was blushing and so were you, your heart thudding in your chest as Hongjoong licked his lips, waiting for your answer.

“Yes, okay, yeah, kiss me, Hongjoong.” Damn Seonghwa and everyone else for cheering upon hearing your words, but maybe it was worth it as Hongjoong giggled while leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips were soft and tasted like cherry, and you felt like pudding as your lips locked in an innocent peck that lasted for a second too long. You felt like a teenager all over again, and if seventeen years old you could catch a glimpse into the future and see this exact moment, she’d definitely pass out.

“So, do you want to go on a date tomorrow?”

“God, yes, Hongjoong, please.”

Yeah, seventeen-year-old you would not survive this.

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gyubakeries · 1 day ago

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❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 13: christmas morning | l.c

a/n: last fic of the series!! i hope you guys liked all the installments <3 thank you for everyone who read the fics!! love you guys, and merry christmas to all who celebrate! i hope you had a great year, and i wish for the next year to be kind to all of you as well <3 last fic, hope you enjoy :)

p.s. i dont think its that easy to get an hermes birkin, BUT WE WILL PRETEND THAT IT IS. its been literally my dream to get one, so i might as well experience it through my writing LMAO

word count: 1.3k contents: chan x fem!reader , established relationship , idol bf!chan , cuddles , domestic fluff , gift exchanging , chan is energetic , reader is sleep deprived , reader gets their dream birkin bag (projecting onto reader big time)

it's christmas eve and you're going to bed alone.

it's not like you're feeling sad about it. you know chan is holed up in the practice room, practicing choreographies over and over again till he satisfies the perfectionist in him, which is why you're okay with the selfie chan sends you as a goodnight.

you've been dating him for five years, and you've been through a lot of long distance with your boyfriend to easily overcome the feeling of sleeping alone in the cold bed.

plus, you're tired to the bone with how much work your boss had dumped on you over the last three weeks, so sleep comes to you easily.

—

you stir awake when cold hands press into the bare skin of your waist from where your sleep shirt had ridden up.

"chan, cold," you mutter under your breath, turning around to face your boyfriend, who had just failed at his attempt to slip into bed without disturbing you.

"sorry for waking you up," he whispers, smoothing your shirt down so that he can hold you without bothering you with his cold hands.

"'s alright," you yawn. "i'm a light sleeper. what's the time?"

"3:15," comes chan's soft voice, and with the way the warmth radiating from his body wraps you up in a soft embrace, you already find yourself dozing off again.

"merry christmas, baby," chan smiles against your skin. you press a kiss to his neck, the closest part of him that you can reach, and whisper a, "merry christmas, channie," before you're falling back asleep.

—

waking up in the morning is not nearly as soft and quiet as the night before. primarily because chan was shaking you awake, yelling in your ear to get you to wake up.

"i thought you said you were a light sleeper!" chan complains when you smack his hands away.

"well it was a lie!" you grumble, turning to your side to try and escape chan's antics. "let me sleep. i'm so tired."

"oh," chan's voice immediately goes soft. "was it your boss again? god, i wish i could just tell him to go screw himself-"

"how about you try saying that to seungcheol's face first?" you tease him. "if you think you can't face your leader, my boss is ten times worse."

chan blinks.

"okay, i may send him an e-mail then," he huffs. "but babe, it's christmas morning. let's at least do the gift exchange and then we can sleep in, hm?"

you sigh at your boyfriend pulling his best puppy eyes, complete with the pout, and you give in easily.

"alright, let's go."

"i love you!" chan beams with joy. he all but drags you off the bed and bundles you up in his hoodie, knowing how cold you got in the mornings. then he pulls you in for a tight hug, kissing the top of your head softly.

"merry christmas, my love."

"merry christmas, chan."

—

"okay, whose present do you wanna start with first?" you ask chan. you're sat on the living room floor, gift boxes strewn around you.

"let me open what your family got me, and then you can open what my family got you," chan suggests, and you agree. he then adds on, "the hyungs got you a gift too, so you can do that next."

the two gift boxes you got for each other lie in the corner, the both of you eyeing them silently, wondering if the other will like their gift.

"okay! me first!" chan announces excitedly. you hand him the delicately wrapped box your mother had dropped off at your house a few weeks prior to christmas for chan.

he opens up the wrapping gently, and gasps when he sees what's inside. curious to see what the gift was, you peek at the box in his lap, and you find a bottle of expensive whisky inside.

"i can't believe my family supports your alcholic tedencies," you roll your eyes affectionately, and chan gives you the look of a wounded puppy.

you laugh at chan's theatrics and reach for the gift his family sent for you. you unwrap the gift, and you're moved by this inexplicable warmth that fills you as soon as the wrapping paper is gone.

the gift is a framed photo of you, chan, his parents and brother, standing together at chan's brother's wedding. it was the day chan's mother had looked at you with tears in her eyes and said, "you make my son so happy, y/n. i hope you stay in his life for a long time."

along with the photo, there's also a perfume that you had mentioned in passing on one of the many dinners you've had with chan's parents.

"this perfume is so expensive," you gasp. "they really shouldn't have-"

"y/n, they're my parents," chan laughs. "of course they're extra. where do you think i get it from?"

"fair point," you laugh, trying to blink the tears away in your eyes. "okay! give me the gift from the boys."

chan passes over another box to you, and you read the gift card stuck on top.

'merry christmas, female dino'

you sigh at their silly joke before unwrapping the gift and bursting into laughter.

"what is it?" chan asks, leaning over to look at the gift.

it's a plain black hoodie inside the box, with a collage of chan's pre-debut pictures printed all over the front. chan groans when you take the hoodie out of the box.

"i bet this was jeonghan-hyung's idea," he mumbles. "i'm gonna kill all of them."

"sure you will, baby," you giggle, kissing his cheek.

then, there's silence.

the only two gifts left to unwrap are the ones you got for each other.

you look at chan, who looks like he's going to throw up any second, and you clear your throat. "should we open the last two together?"

"yeah," chan nods, reaching for his gift, and you take yours.

"alright, three, two, one."

chan claps a mouth over his hand when he unwraps his gift "you- you got me the watch- oh my god, y/n are you crazy? this must have cost a fortune and- shit, i can't even believe that you... y/n?"

caught up in finding the luxury watch he'd been planning to buy for himself for a year inside the box, he totally forgot the gift he got you. you were currently frozen in shock, and chan can only hope it's the good kind.

while chan was freaking out over his gift, you opened the one he got you. you weren't expecting the expensive bag you had on your wish-list for almost your entire life.

it was the Hermès Birkin bag, the one thing you've wanted ever since you were a little girl.

"chan, this is- where did you even-"

"i pulled some strings," chan replies. "do you like it?"

"do i like it?" you ask. "i love it. this is everything i've wanted, i can't believe you got it for me."

"i thought i was everything you ever wanted," chan pouts, and you would shoot him a glare, but you're feeling so grateful for having such a thoughtful and kind boyfriend that you just lean forward to pull him into a tight hug.

"you're the best thing that's ever happened to me," you tell him, and he hugs you by the waist tightly, agreeing with your statement.

"i'm so glad i bumped into you all those years ago," chan says, and you pull away slightly to kiss him, pouring in all the love you felt for the one person who's made you feel more special than anyone else ever could.

(chan remembers how difficult it was to get the bag for you, but for you, he'd tackle the world's greatest challenges.

next christmas, he hopes he can get you something he's wanted ever since you've entered his life; a ring, and hopefully, a family of your own as well.)

- fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

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series taglist in comments!

head to the series masterlist - here <3

head to the masterlist for more!

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cosmicspark24 · 1 day ago

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⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ Pick a card time! ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

☁︎ Collective energies! ☁︎

Hi everyone! It's taken me a fair bit to get this done for you so any shares, likes and comments are appreciated. While reading I found some collective themes you can skip this bit or come back to it if you like it. Collectively there were lots of themes surrounding; new beginnings, new love (lots of romantic offers/new relationships), embracing creativity, investing in yourself, turning pain into power, going after your dreams, mental prisons due to perspective shift being needed, betrayals & travel. I hope you enjoy, I will be keeping these coming in 2025. Please check out my blog if you have a chance and there will be a Youtube channel coming next year. Love ya,

Thando

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 1:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme of the first half of 2025 for you is new beginnings. What a wonderful start to a new year!! I see a few different themes for the people in this pile. We will begin with this theme of work. I feel that some of you have started new jobs, been promoted or are renewing your approach to work. There is an energy here of carefully balancing all the plates in your life, ensuring that you drop not a single one. I see this being something you achieve with relative easy. This does not mean it requires effort. I see some of you being very concerned with the idea of equal give and take. If the company refuses to pay me more, then I reserve the right to do the bare minimum and never agree to their attempts at giving me overtime - type energy. So if you have been thinking about a financial venture and have been feeling like you are not getting as much back as you are receiving, what can you change to facilitate you taking back your own power? I see especially for any masculines or women in their masculine energy/era that making money or juggling the important practical parts of your life is greatly important. I see you putting everything in your power in driving your new beginnings foreward. In that, I see that you are the wind beneath your wings. I am proud of you pile 1. For any masculines in this pile who have been confused about how to proceed with a relationship, I see you making moves towards that. For some of you this is physical travel to the one you love, for others you are taking a metaphorical journey back to your person. This reading is heavily talking about or directed at masculine energies. For women, I see this as you finally receiving clarity from a SP. This is someone you know to already have an interest but it is possible you were being given mixed messages.

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme of the second half of 2025 has to do with either you or a specific person. The theme is showing affection and attention to the one you like. So just take what applies. I feel that any confusion you may have had about a SP were cleared the moment you made the mental decision to stop hiding your own feelings from yourself. I'm seeing the energy of someone writing a message, pressing send, throwing away the phone and hiding under the covers. Then overthinking...well it's all in your head. Remember who the fuck you are in the second half of the year. Remind yourself that anything meant for you will make its way to you with ease. I see also for anyone not in this headspace, that you are focused on yourself. You are focused on treating yourself to whatever you want. You suddenly feel you haven't been socialising enough, and suddenly you have parties booked a few times a month. For the sexual beings, I see you getting yours in the second half of 2025. I see one-night stands, friends with benefits or anything that you like engaging in sexually being done wantonly. I see this self-focus on filling your own cup with dreams pr creativity bringing you immense peace. For those pursuing a SP, your success with this individual will bring you greater peace. Isn't that delicious?

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 2:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme for the first half of 2025 is going to be money/business success. I feel that some of you have fully come into adulthood. I'm getting the feeling of 'my brain just fully developed'. The energy of this pile is that of someone who balances their maturity with their inner child needs. I see possibly a new job or a new business venture which came up as well for the previous pile. This new start can cause some confusion or introspection depending on the individual. I sense that you are scared of new beginnings or are used to doing things one sort of way but life has ushered you upon a new path. I see that the answers are within you, but you are too frightened to fully stand in your power and go, 'yes, I knew the last job was literally sucking my soul so it's okay that I have to pivot'. The key to happiness and business success for you is through following your passions. I know, how cliche. Yet you never know how a random talent or hyper-fixation can lead to something real and tangible. Pile 2, I see you moving on from previous heartbreak. You are burying and leaving behind painful memories of love and instead replacing it with passion, creativity and who knows...maybe new love.

2025, 2nd half:

The similarities in the actual cards I drew, is almost an exact replica with pile 1 so you may also relate to that pile. The main theme of the second half of your 2025 is all about renewal. Like a butterfly birthed from a cocoon I see you rise with fervour. You are focused and grinding. You are going so hard for yourself and achieving your dreams. You are being daring about things you've always wanted to try. I see you challenging yourself with hobbies, with thrill seeking activities. I see you achieving professional success and being in the spotlight for those achievements. Embrace it, soak it up. It is meant to be, let this be all the validation you need. There is a couple or two individuals who are aware of their spiritual connection to each other in this pile. You may have been on a break, or travelling or apart for some (necessary) reasons. You will get a sign sometime in this part of the year to connect with this person. So one of you will be reaching out via DM or however you both prefer your communications. I see a masculine in this pile in particular being very vocal about insecurities to do with work/business. I feel that this could be a masculine leaning on his mother through this time period. Just do whatever you need to to process your very valid fears then let it go. I recommend a burning ritual if this applies to you. This doesn't have to be a male person but whoever identifies with coming across at this stage of their lives in a masculine way. I see as a result of these conversations, you will make a decision on how to proceed and take appropriate action toward your new beginning.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎

Hello Pile 3:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme of the first half of you 2025 surrounds you being unsure how to proceed with a particular situation. I see a masculine energy or that of a person who is charming charismatic and self-assured, being defensive and on guard with their heart after realising that they've the love of their life. We always imagine that getting what we want we will immediately accept and embrace it. Instead Pile 3, you meet someone you like and you immediately acknowledge how unique and how distinct the feeling they give you is but you are so determined to ignore it or tell yourself there is something else at play here. Now that I am starting to interpret, I am seeing now that this lack of certainty from you pile 3 could be coming from how unbelievable it is to you to find someone you so strongly want to attach to and immediately want to drag down the isle, lovingly of course. You feel both lucky and scared that this little bit of luck might run away. For some of you I feel that you were already on a lucky streak and have now hit the motherload. I'll be honest and say though this person is the main focus mentally and emotionally, it will not be long between you realising that they mean that much to you and that your attraction for this SP is different, to you making an honest offer. For those already in union, your story looks a little bit different. For those in union, I am seeing an unmarried couple with the man in the planning phase of engagement. You will know if this is you because the masculine in the couple is strong, sexy and self-assured. He also may have been recently defensive about how much he is working. This is because he knows you want a surprise, he knows what you want in a proposal and he is gonna make it happen. The heavens are literally opening up to help you make this deeper commitment come together. Any couples with a wedding date in this half of the year in Pile 3, I see a great wedding and a true realisation that you have done the right thing by being with this person. Any couples already married, you could simply be deepening the bonds of your love. I see this through some sort of recitation of affections or something ceremonial (whatever that means to you)

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme of the second half of your 2025 is health. You may be having some secrets unearthed from your childhood that opens a can of worms for you to now digest. For some of you, you simple know that you have leaned too long into your naivete and have decided to finally do something to facilitate your growth and maturity. This pile is giving growth. With this new journey to explore the depths of yourself, comes gossip. There comes talks and speculation about how you are making so much money. How are you acquiring so many assets or how are you never seeming to struggle financially? Then the chatter goes into your sex life. There could be rumours you are sleeping around for money or you are being particularly sexually free at this time. This may or may not be an accurate representation of what you are doing, but that matters not. You are not defined by people who are not taking the time to know you but instead, speculating like you are spectator sport. If you are being at all promiscuous then please be aware that this can cause more burden or a different sort of trauma to unpack at a later date. By interacting with so many people, you are opening yourself up to microscopic tears to your psyche that will need to be repaired. I see you receiving messages from a SP. The feminine in question is coming through as a confident, sexy and ambitious woman. The man is coming through as ambitious, powerful and sexy. This is not necessarily gender specific so you could be the woman with the qualities of the man I see in this reading. It's not something to get hung up on. There is a sense that you are both defending what you have to the outside world while also drowning in the passion that you clearly have for each other. You're both drowning, willingly.

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Hello Pile 4:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme for the first half of your 2025 is gossip and or chatter. Yet despite that being the main theme, the clarifying cards also show me a different secondary main theme which is of material comfortability. The reading has more pentacle cards than anything signalling money and resources, tangible or physical. You are coming through Pile 4 as a confident, successful single. If you are not single, you are certainly someone who feels whole and complete within themselves. This is not at the expense of another, but just an expression of the work you have done on yourself up until now. I feel the need to say Pile 4, you should be so proud of yourself for everything that you've achieved. You. Did. That. I see you being generous with you resources, but also vigilant. I see you making your younger self proud by being able to facilitate your desires materially. You have worked your way into a lucrative job or if not, you have lived a lifestyle well beyond your means and gotten comfortable with watching your savings beef up. If you need a massage you just get it, kinda energy. You don't think well, is there enough in my account, because you are either so financially responsible you know the ins and outs of your funds, or you're not pedantic but you allocate enough funds for everything you need. You run like clockwork even if it's something that you didn't always do. You have gotten to a place where you know which buttons to trigger within to achieve anything you need for different aspects of your life. You are coming across as untouchable, Pile 4. Your aura is extremely attractive right now and you could not look more delectable. You may be giving or receiving an offer of affections. This could be platonic or romantic but I feel for more of you it is romantic than platonic. Though you may have to take a second to think about it, you will consider yourself lucky in this opportunity and take it. You and your new love are happy and materially comfortable, together.

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme for the second half of your 2025 is grief/burdens. Some of the people in this pile, I see you travelling to pursue a new beginning. This could be anywhere to a new country/state. For some you are moving your whole life elsewhere while others you simply have not travelled enough and are off to make this dream a reality. There's something public about your trip. You could be documenting it or you may be very vocal about any struggles you may experience along the way. Struggles with money or logistics. Through the hardship though that you may experience along the way, you find yourself. For some you are finding yourself again, deeper aspects of your iceberg beneath the surface. You find your own resilience and you are enchanted by it. You may at times punish yourself or self sabotage. You might spend too much on ubereats instead of saving or using sex as a distraction from your life. So long as you are being mindful and checking yourself when you feel those escapist tendencies coming through, you should be fine. A lot the changes you are going through at this time are fated. I see you going on a long journey of self-discovery, especially surrounding betrayals from others or from yourself. Allow yourself to grieve. Allow yourself to go through this period in a messy way because it's through the chaos that greater clarity will come through. It's through the inner conflict that you find that flickering ember of light.

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Hello Pile 5:

Please remember that this is a collective reading so only take what feels intuitively to be your message. Thank you.

2025, 1st half:

The main theme of your reading for the first half of 2025 is parents/authority figures. I feel that in this pile someone feels that they have been betrayed or duped by a parental or authority figure. Well I am here to tell you that the instant-karma they are about to receive will make you smile a little on the inside. I see you receiving a message likely through messages/online that this individual in question has been punished. Now this could look different for different people but for some of you I sense jail. Others more like a streak of bad luck or losing something important. I see a couple represented as masculine and feminine but these are energies not actual sexes. Both thinking, separately about their shared future. It's like people who are already seeing each other starting to daydream that they can really make it work. Or this could be friends who are starting to fall for each other. Well, aren't you lucky Pile 5 for the one you want not only wants you, but you are ordained to be together. You will receive the true happiness you have longed for. You forge forward you two lovebirds, leave the dust (parent/authority figure) behind as you hold each other shamelessly into the future.

2025, 2nd half:

The main theme for the second half of your 2025 is that of sexual tension/sexual exploration and for some of you just mental self-flagellation. You take whichever sounds like it resonates. Pile 5, you are becoming more and more self actualised as time goes on. In the second half of the year, you are feeling even more so that you are understanding yourself more and therefore better able to reach your highest potential. You know you are a star, you know you are destined for greatness and you know you have the will to achieve it. You have the tenacity, the staying power and the patience. You may receive heartbreaking news of betrayal in the second half of the year. For some of you this is because the person you were with has been unfaithful in some way (could be cheating or lying or anyway which counts within your own value system). For some this news was so obscure because there was some deceptive energy from the source. Once you speak to your partner, you unearth and realise that it's not your partner that is the problem, but elements outside of your relationship that are trying to cause you confusion and evidently a breakup. Whichever group you belong, I see this being something you will conquer and overcome through your self confidence. Sometimes the best way out is through. I see you refocusing on your foals, creativity, sexuality and therefore returning yourself back to a state of true happiness. You realise that as long as you have yourself and your dreams, everything else is inconsequential.

@cosmicspark24

#cosmicspark #tarot #pick a card #pac reading #lenormand #oracle

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sharoo · 3 days ago

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The Flower-Seeker, the Robot, and the City without Faith

It's me again emerging from my mole's burrow to leave a thematic analysis piece and then bury myself again for a few more months.

Spoilers for Canto 7

CW for mentions of suicidal ideation and some death talk

Let's talk about Bari and her role in the world of Projmoon.

I think everyone who experienced LoR before Limbus was in the same camp as me upon the reveal of Bari.

Which is to say:

The chat was not normal.

But now I've had some time to cool off and actually think and Bari's position in her world is honestly kind of fascinating, especially as a take on immortal characters.

Because first and foremost, Bari has to be ancient. In a meta sense, sprites of the Book Hunter, as we knew her back then, date back all the way to Lobcorp. In universe meanwhile, she was already a long time traveller before she met Don Quixote senior and Sancho. She was there when the Associations were being established and competing for popularity. That was, on the low end, several hundred years ago. We don't know how long it took to construct La Manchaland, or how long that operated before everything fell apart and Quixote Senior sealed everyone away for 200 years.

All through this, Bari hasn't aged a day. My guess is that it's possibly thanks to the river of immortality Xichun mentions, or something else found outside the City.

And this is where we hit one of my favourite tropes - immortals passing time.

1. Remember that you will not die

One of the most interesting things to consider in fiction is the question of "What would you do if you were immortal? You'd have infinite time to do anything you desired - to travel, learn, rest. What would you do?"

Very often, humans who undergo this process in stories eventually begin to stagnate. They end up not doing anything, because internal motivation disappears. This is understandable, because, to get a little memento mori for a moment here, death is the biggest motivator we humans have - it's our time limit. You only get X amount of time to enjoy certain things, to achieve certain goals, so that at the tail end of it you'll be able to reminisce and hopefully smile before you expire. Add to it that age itself limits us, be it youth not allowing us independence or old age slowing us down and limiting us with weakness, and you can see how we are driven, at least in theory, to live life fully as long as we can.

To lose that - the constant dread of your body slowly, but surely, progressing towards failure, breaking down little by little, is to rob us of our inherent motivator. It is a very large part of being a human, really. A lot of our lives and cultures circle around this immutable fact that we don't last, and our questions regarding the why and the what comes after. Religion exists to answer most of those questions.

So... what does one do when they lose that, and become immortal without purpose?

They seek another. Or they disappear.

2. Faith (A Ruina tangent)

Before I get to Bari, it's important to examine her debut game, and the one person she interacts with (and believe me I have thoughts about it).

So, Angela. Our most beloved not-human with all the characteristics of humanity except a lifespan, and a perfect example of an immortal trying to pass time.

LoR goes to great lengths to show her desperation going back all the way to Lobcorp. It shows, quite clearly, first her inability to cope with the circumstances Ayin stuck her in, followed by her resignation to fate and a silent wish for the end. I will not mince words, Angela reads to me back then as silently suicidal, in that she's given up on any other solution to her pain but the conclusion of the play. Then, and only then, was she to be allowed to rest. She had no say in when the play would end so she could only hope it eventually would.

She yearned for death. But then, something changed. Netzach points out that indeed, though she wished for the end, she truly wanted to live. To exist, to escape her prison and to finally know this world besides the pain. That desire gave her enough humanity to manifest her own EGO.

All with the purpose of seeking the One Book that'd give her humanity, and, in her eyes, make her finally complete and able to live in happiness.

The most important part of LoR for this analysis is the Floor of Religion, and Hokma's view of faith. Honestly I'd recommend watching through all of these because it's so poignant. Or better yet, watch Hydrojoy's Angela video (the fact they've got so few subscribers with this level of analysis is a crime honestly).

youtube

Some lines I want to focus on, though, are these:

Things without purpose shall disappear. People without purpose will similarly expire.

Angela admits to herself that she doesn't know what she's doing. She's simply chasing some sort of meaning - revenge, freedom from her robotic condition, power, knowledge, anything that'll give her fulfilment.

And in the forgiveness route, she finally finds that in companionship of Roland and, I'd like to think, the Librarians.

But if she doesn't forgive, she ends up losing any purpose besides continuous revenge. There is no companionship when the Librarians turn on her for betraying them. There's no use in being human when it doesn't benefit her mission, and frankly just makes it harder because it makes her easier to harm. There's no point leaving the library when outside will not welcome her, it's much safer to stay inside forever.

There is no point to anything. Angela's revenge is hollow, really - Ayin is dead and no amount of sticking it to him will earn a response from a dead guy.

Enter the Book Hunter.

youtube

I will be honest in saying I don't fully understand what they both mean, with them speaking in sort of vague terms. It sounds like Bari was employed by Angela to kill other Book Hunters (perhaps in exchange for knowledge?).

What matters to me, though, are the final lines - the recognition of what Angela is and delivering death to the last librarian.

3. The Scholar of Meaning and the Reaper of the Meaningless

As the Limbus wiki points out, Bari is likely named after a Korean funerary goddess who sought both a healing river and a flower of immortality. But this influence strikes me especially in the context of her being an immortal who meets a lot of other (and often younger) immortals.

She's wise to the fact that all things need meaning to exist. They need an ambition, a wish, something to strive for.

So she attempts to give it to them.

This is shown not just explicitly with Quixote senior, but also with Quixote junior after Sancho gives up her memory, itself a form of death Bari guides her to. For 200 years, Bari made sure to visit Don Quixote and leave her letters so that this person who was once a dear friend may dream, may have meaning and a purpose in her immortal life.

Because you need something to drive you in life, be it becoming a legendary fixer, creating a place where Bloodfiends can live in peace with humans, or searching for a flower which grew from the mysterious rivers flowing through your world.

And if you have lost purpose and can no longer find one, if she cannot save you from that void, she will be there to put you out of your misery, for a meaningless eternity is its own sort of hell, and cruelty it perpetuates is nothing but needless.

In her own words - you must pursue your dream, even if it means wagering your life in the chase.

I think Bari's view of the Bloodfiends' illness and what Carmen describes as the disease humanity could be similar if not the same thing. Roland says in Floor of Religion's first episode that the City has no established religion - people focus on their immediate survival, suffering is everpresent, and the more organised religious-seeming groups are cults trying to exploit you.

The City has lost its purpose. People do not dream, or are not allowed to for long because those dreams are swiftly quashed. Carmen offers an out to suffering through becoming so unapologetically yourself you gain the power to enact your will on the world, for better or worse.

Bari seeks, I think, to give the same, but through simple companionship. Not cohersion, not magic, but through the same thing that has given so many people across this franchise meaning - having a friend to be there for you as you look for what drives you. Because to be alone in meaninglessness is the most cruel and difficult thing. I wonder if she knows that from experience...

I really hope we get more of Bari in the future so I can see if my analysis is more fanfiction than truth but with just the bits we have I have to say she's one of my favourite secondary characters in Limbus.

#limbus company #bari #bari lcb #don quixote #don quixote lcb #library of ruina #angela lor #canto vii spoilers #canto 7 spoilers #god this took a while to write #limbus ramblings of an incoherent sheep prophet

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prettygirl-gabi · 19 hours ago

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Best Gift Ever

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Rafe Cameron x !Pogue reader

Fandom: Outerbanks (OBX) (TV series)

Summary: Christmas wasn’t for another week or so but this present just couldn't wait.

Merry Christmas everyone I hope you enjoy!

The warm glow of the Christmas tree filled the room as I adjusted the star on top, stepping back to admire the work Rafe and I had put in. He stood behind me, arms crossed, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Not bad for a couple of amateurs,” he said, nudging me playfully with his elbow.

“Amateurs?” I scoffed, turning to face him. “I carried this whole operation. You’re lucky I let you hang the ornaments.”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss my forehead. “You’re right. You did most of the work, as always.”

Rafe had been surprisingly eager to help decorate this year, something I chalked up to the fact that we were spending Christmas together for the first time in our own space. It felt special, almost like we were building our own traditions.

“You think Pope and the others will be impressed?” I asked, stepping over to the couch where a pile of decorations still sat.

“Pope? No. JJ? Definitely not. But Sarah will say it’s cute,” he teased, pulling me into a hug from behind.

I rolled my eyes but smiled, leaning back into him. “Good enough for me.”

Once the last bit of tinsel was draped across the mantle, I turned to Rafe, my heart racing as I remembered the small box hidden under the tree.

“I have something for you,” I said, my voice quieter than usual.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Already? Christmas isn’t for another week.”

“I know, but I couldn’t wait,” I admitted, bending down to grab the neatly wrapped gift.

He took the box from my hands, giving me a curious look before sitting down on the couch. I perched on the armrest, watching his every move.

“You’re acting weird,” he said, shaking the box lightly. “Is it a PS5? Tell me it’s a PS5.”

I snorted, crossing my arms. “Just open it, Cameron.”

He chuckled, tearing through the wrapping paper with the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas morning. When he opened the box, his smile faltered, replaced by a look of shock.

Inside was a tiny unisex baby onesie that read "Merry Christmas Daddy" and a pregnancy test. The silence that followed made my chest tighten.

“Rafe?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

He looked up at me, his blue eyes wide with emotion. “Are you serious?”

I nodded, biting my lip as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. “Yeah. You’re going to be a dad.”

For a moment, he just stared at me, and I started to panic. But then he broke into the biggest smile I’d ever seen and pulled me into his arms, burying his face in my neck.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, his voice filled with awe. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah, we are,” I said, laughing through my tears.

He pulled back, cupping my face in his hands. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten. You’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

I rolled my eyes, though my heart felt like it might burst. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Get used to it,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead before looking down at the onesie again. “Does anyone else know?”

“Not yet. You’re the first person I’ve told.”

He smiled, his fingers tracing the tiny fabric. “Good. Let’s keep it our secret for now.”

I nodded, leaning into his side as we sat together on the couch, the soft glow of the Christmas tree wrapping us in warmth.

Rafe looked down at me, his hand resting on my stomach. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever.”

And I couldn’t help but agree.

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

#support the writers!#oneshot #gabi writes #obx x reader #obx netflix #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx season 4 #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #Pope Hayward #christmas blurb #christmas dividers #rose toy dividers #outerbanks rafe #established relationship #dad rafe #mom reader

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couldsewyouastitch · 3 days ago

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Stories We Haven’t Written Yet

a/n: hi @tea-reads i am your secret santa!! when i got your prompt i was so happy because i have been wanting to write something like this for a long time. and i usually need days, weeks to complete something like this but for some reason, these words just poured out of me. you said i can pick the character myself so i went with Frankie because, Frankie is just... Frankie *sighs affectionately*. anyway, hope you enjoy it! Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!! a big thank you to @pedrostories for the amazing event <3 also, @tea-reads i hope you don't mind me giving the cat the most obnoxious cat name that there is. xx

pairing: frankie 'catfish' morales x fem!reader

c/w: reader is she/her, description of the reader (story is written with a specific person in mind), other than that some cursing, implication of intimacy, and the rest is pure fluff.

The faded red bricks of the old brownstone are cool as Frankie Morales steps outside, cradling a steaming mug of coffee between his hands. Taking a sip, he lets the warmth bleed into his fingers, into his chest, where sleep still weighs heavy. The bitter taste bites at his tongue, but he likes it—it feels real, more real than the hazy remnants of the dreams he’s trying to shake off.

Then, a flash of movement catches his eye. There, across the narrow street, framed in a first-floor window like a living portrait she sits—a girl with a tangle of dark hair hunched over a book. Her fingertip traces the page as she reads. Frankie thinks of the whorl of her fingerprint, oil and ink, the silent shape of words in her mouth.

He's seen her before. Hard not to in a neighborhood like this where everyone knows everyone and their grandma, but they've never spoken. Never had reason to. He doesn't even know her name but he likes to call her bookworm. Imagines her with papercuts on her fingertips and the smell of old pages clinging to her clothes.

She looks up just as he's lifting his mug to his lips. Catches him looking. He could turn away but he doesn't. He lifts a hand in a wave and he's close enough to see her lips twitch into an almost smile before she disappears behind a curtain the color of clouds.

—

The cat is an ink-stain sprawled across the pale tiles of Frankie's kitchen floor. He stares at it. It stares back wholly unimpressed by the world—or by him. A chill breeze from the open window ruffles its fur.

"Alright," he mutters, running a hand over his face. "I don't know how you got in here, gato, but you’ve got to go."

The cat remains unmoved.

Frankie sighs. Scrubs a hand through his hair. Remembers too late it's still tacky with pomade and now his fingers are too. "Look, it’s not that I don’t like you," he continues, his voice edging toward something that sounds suspiciously like resignation. "It’s just—well, I’m not exactly living the kind of life where I can keep a pet right now. You know how it is."

The cat, of course, does not know how it is. Nor does it care. It blinks lazily, as if to say, Who asked you?

Frankie glances at the open window above the sink, then at the clock on the wall. He’s going to be late for his shift at the garage if he doesn’t leave soon. “Fine,” he mutters, shrugging into his jacket. “Have it your way. Mi casa es su casa and all that. But when I get back, we’re having a serious talk about boundaries.”

The cat yawns, a pink tongue curling delicately, as if it already knows how the conversation will go.

Frankie snatches his keys from the hook by the door. “I mean it,” he grumbles, more to himself than the cat. “This ain’t a hotel.”

The door shuts behind him, and somewhere in the quiet of the kitchen, the cat blinks once, slowly, as though conceding that perhaps it is.

—

Boundaries. What a joke. He'd forgotten that talk as soon as he'd clocked in. Then it was nothing but oil changes and timing belts and that persistent rattle in Mrs. Goldberg's Buick that refuses to be located. By the time he drags himself up the two flights to his apartment, the cat is the furthest thing from his mind.

Until he trips over it in the dark, nearly braining himself on the coffee table.

"Shit!" He fumbles for the light switch. Blinks in the sudden flood of brightness. The cat is sitting by the door, tail lashing. "Oh, it's you. Thought we had an understanding."

The cat meows. Loudly. Like an air-raid siren.

"What? What do you want?"

Another yowl, claws scrabbling at the wood. And okay, Frankie may not be Dr. Dolittle but even he can translate that.

He groans. Pinches the bridge of his nose where a headache is brewing. "Alright, alright, I'm going."

—

Never let it be said that Frankie Morales isn't a man of his word. He's going.

He's just not sure where.

Standing on the cracked sidewalk, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other clutching a very disgruntled cat, he scans the darkened windows of the brownstone across the way. No sign of bookworm.

The cat squirms and he tightens his grip. "Cool it, Houdini. I don't see your owner around."

A throat clears behind him. He spins, the cat held out like a furry shield.

And there she is, close enough to touch. Dark eyes wide in a delicate face, perfect lips parted on a startled breath.

"Um, can I help you?"

Christ, even her voice is perfect. Soft and low with a husky little catch. Frankie's tongue feels too big for his mouth. He thrusts the cat at her. "I believe this belongs to you."

"Bukowski!" She takes the cat from his unresisting hands, cuddling it to her chest. Rubs her cheek against its head and it purrs, traitor. "Where have you been?"

"My kitchen, apparently."

She peeks up at him through a curtain of silky hair, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. A hot curl of want licks through him. "I'm so sorry. He's never done that before."

Frankie shrugs. "It's no problem." It is, a little, but he's not about to say that. Not when she's looking at him like she's braced for a lecture. He sticks out his hand. "I'm Frankie, by the way. I live...right there." He points at his window like an idiot.

Her lips curve and this time it's a real smile and fuck, he's a goner. Her hand is small and cool against his roughened palm. Her fingers feel like bird bones. Delicate. Breakable.

He gentles his grip, struck by the sudden urge to bring those slender fingers to his lips. Press a kiss to her knuckles like some old-fashioned gentleman. He doesn’t. Instead, he drops her hand, stuffs his own back in his pocket where it can't do anything stupid. "Nice to officially meet you."

She ducks her head, hair sliding forward to hide that pretty flush climbing her cheeks. "You too. And thanks for bringing Bukowski home. I should..." She gestures over her shoulder, already backing away.

"Anytime."

He means it.

—

After that, of course he sees her everywhere.

Or maybe he’s just looking for her now.

Either way, it starts at the library.

He’d ducked inside to escape a sudden downpour, the sharp scent of wet pavement still clinging to his jacket, and there she was—bookworm.

Her hair was pinned loosely at the nape of her neck, a pencil tucked behind one ear, her hands deftly sorting books into neat stacks. She hadn’t noticed him at first, too busy rearranging the circulation desk into some private order only she understood. But then she glanced up, and their eyes met, and Frankie forgot for a moment how to breathe.

She’d smiled—a small, polite curve of her lips that didn’t quite reach her eyes. He’d managed to nod, maybe mumble something resembling “hey,” before retreating to the nearest aisle like a complete idiot.

—

Later, he’ll think maybe he conjured the whole thing. Like he wanted it so bad, so deep-down-in-his-bones bad, that the universe finally caved and handed it to him. A gift wrapped in irritation and crossed arms.

He’s just gotten home from a late shift, his body heavy with exhaustion, when a knock sounds at the door. His heart does a stupid little flip, a hopeful leap he’ll deny later. It’s gotta be her. Girl Scouts don’t hustle cookies this late, and Santi’s under strict orders not to bother him unless someone’s bleeding out or already dead.

When he opens the door, there she is, a stormcloud expression in place, arms folded tight across her chest. Her mouth is a taut line of annoyance, but even like this—especially like this—she’s too damn pretty.

"Hey." He leans casually against the doorframe, or at least he tries. His pulse is a drumbeat in his ears, frantic and unsteady. "What’s up?"

Her eyes flash, all dark fire and frustration. "Bukowski got out again." The words are clipped, each one edged with irritation.

"Shit, really?" He glances at his window out of instinct. Still shut tight. He scratches the back of his neck. "I haven’t seen him."

She exhales sharply, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. "Well, he’s not in my apartment, and your place is the only one he’s ever snuck into before, so."

Frankie drags a hand over his face, more to hide the grin tugging at his lips than out of frustration. "Alright. Gimme a second." He grabs his jacket from the coat rack, shrugging into it as he pulls the door shut behind him. "Did you check the alley? Sometimes I see him poking around the dumpsters back there."

Her nose wrinkles, a delicate crinkle of disdain that’s somehow unfairly adorable. "Gross."

A laugh startles out of him. "Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it. Dumpsters are like catnip to alley cats."

"Bukowski," she says with a frankly alarming amount of dignity, "is not an alley cat."

He holds up his hands, fighting a smile. "My mistake. Lead the way, princess."

—

They find the wayward feline sunning himself on the hood of Frankie's shitty third-hand Corolla, fur black against the rusting blue paint. Frankie eyes the fresh scratches on the driver's side door with resignation. Makes a mental note to start parking on the next block.

She marches up to the car, hands on her hips. "Bukowski Theodore Hemingway, you are in so much trouble."

It's official. She's the cutest thing he's ever seen.

He watches as she scoops up the unrepentant cat, fingers sinking into thick fur. Remembers the cool slide of her palm against his. The delicate veins in her wrist.

"Looks like he's got a taste for adventure," he jokes, sticking his hands in the pockets of his sherpa jacket to stop himself from reaching for her. "Regular little escape artist."

She frowns, shifting the cat to get a better grip. "I just don't understand why he keeps coming here. It's not like you're feeding him or anything."

Frankie shakes his head. "Just my rampant animal magnetism."

That startles a laugh out of her, bright and unconscious. He thinks he could get drunk on that sound, learn to crave it like a drug.

She looks up at him from beneath her lashes, something almost shy in the tilt of her mouth. "Must be."

And God, he wants to kiss her. Wants to pull her closer, hook his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and erase the tiny space between them. Wants to let his hands map the curve of her waist, thread into the dark silk of her hair until she’s sighing against his mouth. Wants to find out if her lips taste as soft as they look, if the heat of her blush runs all the way down to the hollow of her throat—

She clears her throat, studying the top of Bukowski's head with sudden fascination. "Well. Thanks for helping me look. And sorry again for the trouble."

"Anytime."

He keeps his hands to himself.

Barely.

—

Things go back to normal after that.

Or at least, his version of normal, which mostly involves work and sleep and precious little else. He goes out drinking with Santi and Benny a couple times, flirts with any woman who looks his way out of habit more than actual interest. But his mind's never really in it. He always finds himself watching the door like he's waiting for something.

Someone.

He tries telling himself it's pathetic, pining over a girl he's barely spoken to. That he's building her up in his head, spinning some kind of bullshit fairy tale out of a few chance encounters.

But then he'll catch a glimpse of her through her living room window, hair spilling across the pages of an open book, lips moving soundlessly as she reads. Or he'll hear her laugh drifting through the open window as he drinks his coffee and a rare smoke on the fire escape, soft and secret in the velvet dark. And he thinks maybe it's not so pathetic to want something real for once.

—

When Bukowski shows up again, he's ready.

He leaves his window cracked just wide enough for a determined cat to squeeze through. Starts storing spare cans of tuna on the top shelf of the pantry. Feigns surprise every time the furry little monster appears like a grouchy apparition on his kitchen counter.

These days, his girl barely makes it through a cursory lecture before she's sighing and rolling her eyes, resigned to her pet's delinquent ways.

And if their hands sometimes brush as he passes the cat over, lingering a beat too long to be strictly accidental...well. That's just a bonus.

—

"Thanks for this," she says for what must be the dozenth time, sweet mouth curving ruefully as she tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I promise I'm not sending him over on purpose. He's just..."

"Got a mind of his own," Frankie finishes, tearing his gaze away from the tan curve of her throat. "I get it. You can't control who you love."

Something flickers across her face too quick to catch and her smile slips, a brief dimming that makes his chest ache. But it's back before he can blink, smooth and distant as rippled glass.

"Still. I'll try to keep a closer eye on him from now on." She hitches the cat higher on her hip, slender fingers sinking into dark fur. "See you around, Frankie."

—

After that, he leaves the window shut tight. Pretends he can't hear the plaintive yowling from the alley below. Bullies Benny into taking the extra cans of tuna cluttering up his shelves.

It was stupid to think this thing between them could be anything more than a few scattered moments. A collection of almost strung together with foolish hope.

Girls like her don't end up with guys like him. He's got no business wanting what he can't have. No business dragging her into his mess of a life.

So, he stays away from the window. Throws himself into work, picking up extra shifts until he's too tired to think straight. Ignores the sharp bite of loss in his chest whenever he catches a flash of dark hair from the corner of his eye.

It's better this way.

—

He almost makes it a week before she corners him on the front stoop, arms crossed and eyes snapping.

"Did I do something wrong?"

He stares at her, momentarily speechless. She's a vision in the golden wash of the porch light, cheeks flushed and hair tumbling wild around her face.

She's never looked more beautiful. Or more pissed.

"What?" He finally manages, feeling wrong-footed and awkward in a way he hasn't since he was a pimply fourteen playing spin the bottle in Rosie Alvarez's basement.

Her mouth firms. "You're avoiding me."

It's not a question but he shakes his head anyway, instinct urging him to deny. "No, I'm not."

"Bullshit." She steps closer, close enough that he can smell her. "I thought we were..." She pauses, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "I don't know. Connecting, maybe." Her shoulders hitch, just a little, and his heart squeezes painfully behind his ribs. "But now you won't even look at me."

Frankie doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been good with words, not the kind that matter, not the kind that don’t come out clumsy and wrong.

When he says nothing, she crosses her arms tighter, like she’s holding herself together.

"I don’t even know why I’m here," she says, pacing now a little, her arms crossing and uncrossing like she doesn’t know what to do with them. "I’ve been talking myself out of this for days. Weeks, maybe. Telling myself I’m being ridiculous, that I shouldn’t care, that I don’t need this."

"I'm not good at this, Frankie. At flirting or...or making my intentions known. I've always been alone and I thought I was okay with that. Content, even. But then you showed up with your stupid handsome face and your awful secret cigarettes on the fire escape and suddenly I'm lying awake at night wondering what it would be like to have someone. And I thought maybe you..." She trails off, scrubbing furiously at her eyes. "God, I'm so stupid. Of course you don't—"

Her name comes out low and rough, like it’s been scraped from the deepest part of him, and it cuts her off mid-sentence. Her gaze snaps up to his, her eyes wide, shining with a mix of anger and embarrassment and something heartbreakingly soft.

"You talk too much," he murmurs, his lips twitching into the faintest, most lopsided smile.

And before she can respond—before she can talk herself in circles or tear herself down anymore—he cups her face in his hands and kisses her.

It’s not a perfect kiss. He’s too rough, too desperate, his calloused thumbs brushing against the softness of her cheeks as his mouth finds hers. But the way she melts into him, the way her hands grip the front of his jacket like she’s afraid he’ll vanish if she lets go, makes him think that maybe perfection doesn’t matter.

Her lips are soft, warm, and she tastes faintly of peppermint tea, like she’s been drinking it to calm herself down. But he doesn’t think either of them are calm now. He’s trembling, just a little, as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and she makes a soft, startled sound in the back of her throat that just about undoes him.

When they finally pull apart, her cheeks are flushed, her lips pink and kiss-swollen, and she’s staring up at him like she doesn’t quite believe what just happened.

"Sweetheart. You have no idea how much I want you."

She blinks up at him, dark lashes spiky with tears. "You...you do?"

He has to laugh at the genuine confusion in her voice. Has to kiss her again, soft and slow and so sweet he aches with it. "I really, really do."

—

When Frankie wakes up the next morning he finds her watching him. Her hair is a tangled mess around her face, cheeks still flushed with the fading imprint of his kisses.

She reaches out, traces the curve of his jaw with a fingertip. "Hi."

His throat feels tight, crammed full of words he doesn't know how to shape. He turns his head. Presses a kiss to her palm. "Morning."

She smiles, slow and sweet as honey. "For a minute there, I thought I imagined you."

"Oh yeah?" He tugs her closer. Fits his body to the warm curves of hers. "Hate to disappoint, but I'm very real."

A laugh shivers through her. He feels it everywhere they're touching. Everywhere they're not. "I can see that."

He kisses her then. Can't not. Feels like he'll die if he doesn't get his mouth on her. She arches into him. Makes a noise that shoots straight to his groin.

He rolls her beneath him. Smoothes his hands down her sides. Over the dip of her waist. The flare of her hips. She gasps. Clutches at his shoulders. Nails biting into his skin.

A sudden clatter breaks the hush.

Frankie's head snaps up. There, silhouetted in the window. A familiar furry face.

Bukowski blinks. Yowls.

Frankie barks a laugh.

"Guess he was playing matchmaker all along, huh?" he teases, his voice a low rumble.

She huffs a laugh, her smile widening, her eyes bright with mischief. "Guess so."

Another yowl interrupts them, louder this time, and Frankie glances back at the window. The cat sits there, tail twitching impatiently, clearly unimpressed by their lack of urgency.

Frankie sighs dramatically, his face twisting into mock exasperation. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint."

He disentangles himself reluctantly. Pads naked to the window. Opens it just wide enough for Bukowski to slink through. The cat immediately winds around his ankles. Purring.

"Yeah, yeah. You're a regular Cupid." He scoops the furry devil up. Dumps him unceremoniously on the bed. "Now scram. We're busy."

She laughs. Reaches for him. "Come back to bed, Frankie."

He goes. Willingly. Eagerly.

Somewhere in the tangle of the sheets Bukowski meows.

Once. Twice.

Neither of them hear it.

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedrostoriesgift24 #pedrostories #frankie morales fluff #triple frontier #pedro pascal #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader

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merakiui · 1 day ago

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HI HIIII!!! ＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／

i’ve read all of the messages on my beautifully decorated tree and OMG?!?!? so many sweet and lovely words that made my heart weep in a good way…… T^T 💕✨ i’m really so flattered and touched to receive so much love and support and holiday wishes from everyone,,, it made me smile to read each and every message.

i wanted to thank everyone who left a message (that i will cherish forever and always!!!!) but also everyone who reads and enjoys my writing, everyone who likes and/or reblogs my stuff, everyone who sends an ask, etc etc. it’s an honor to be welcomed so warmly and treated with kindness in this online space. i wish the best to anyone and everyone who reads this little thank-you. i’m so very grateful to all of you!!!!! being able to share my writing and exchange brain rots and be freaky with everyone is so fun!!! here’s to many more in the new year~~ ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ🥂

as for a smol update regarding halloweenie (skully fic) - my days became busy with the winter holiday, so for that i’ve been sparsely working on the draft. ;;;; but i’m determined to finish it in time for the new year’s posting!!!!! there are just a few scenes remaining, proofreading process, and then posting time!!!! >:D it’s a very fun and silly fic, so i hope you will love the shenanigans reader and the halloween crew gets up to.

it's time for the second year of tree!!!!! everyone left such kind messages on last year's tree and it made me happy to read all of them. i saw the beloved @yandere-romanticaa's tree for this year and realized it's already december. Σ(°ロ°)

so with that, please feel free to post a message on my tree! i look forward to sharing lots of festive spirit and good vibes with everyone~

#✄ - - reblog - -#meraki mumbles #i’ve been seeing so many christmas skully fanarts #and omg we really won!!! >w<#we get skully in halloween *and* in christmas!!!!!#he really is a man of two holidays just like tnbc is both a halloween and christmas film <3 #aaaaa live laugh love skully forever 🫶#AND ALSO HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO EVERYONE!!!! MAY YOU BE MERRY FOREVER :D

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blood-mocha-latte · 2 days ago

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RARELY SOFT OR CONSOLATORY | 4.7K | RATED T

Merry Christmas (Eve), @sachart! I was your Secret Santa <33. I hope you've had a lovely lovely winter and will continue to have happy happy holidays, and truly hope you enjoy this fic. Your art and kindness is an inspiration, and I truly had the loveliest time creating for you :).

Bill used to think more about his brother. The lack of knowledge about his death and only learning from an accident used to keep him up some nights, mulling over a visage of Henry that never received the letters that he’d still written.

However, now, in the frozen black belly of burnt-down France, he can barely think past Joe Toye’s blue-turning-black toes or George Luz’s red-ringed eyes or a dozen other things that stick out sore along the white backdrop.

(Bill Guarnere, winter during the war, being out of commission, and winter after it. A reflective.)

READ ON AO3 OR BELOW THE CUT

His stomach hurt.

A slight exacerbation.

Everything hurt, but his stomach most of all. Half from being empty, half from being cold, and another half on top of the first two from the goddamn worry.

Bill was used to worry, too. That was the thing. He was used to worrying about his brothers — for Earnest, at least, and over his Ma for Henry — and used to worrying about the men — he’d thrown up behind a mole hill a few hours after Bull had gone missing. Not his proudest moment, one he kept secret. But one nonetheless.

He was also used to worrying about pain. About how it felt, and more distinctly, the way that shrapnel had felt, like molten, liquid heat that’s only goal was to burn.

As it was turning out, the cold burned, too.

Most notably — or, maybe, most impactfully, at least to Bill — it was burning Joe.

“I’m fine.” Toye, in question, said, face tensely lined with what he wouldn’t voice aloud as he shifted against the frozen dirt of the foxhole, careful to keep his foot stretched out in front of him, leg ramrod straight. Bill just stared at him.

“Joe, you look like a half-frozen vegetable.” Bill told him. Toye grimaced at him, like the action could somehow be mistranslated as a laugh. “Listen—” He started and winced, having shifted against the wall of the foxhole and alighting the sharp, bitter twang of old wounds all over again. “—there’s extra food with Ramirez, and I think that Skip has—”

“I’m not taking more than my fair share.” Joe told him firmly, not for the first time, uninterested in the rest of Bill’s sentence when he knew it would just be the same thing everyone had been telling him. Bill threw his hands up in the air, and the cold seemed to bite at the tips of his fingers like it was alive.

“Your fair share ain’t enough, you know that—”

“There’s other guys that need it more—”

“Who? Because you’re the only idiot I see around stupid enough to still be—”

“Thanks, Guarno, but I’m fine.” Joe shut him down, more tense than before, as soon as the words left his lips. Bill shut his mouth with a click, reopened it with something to say on the tip of his tongue, then sighed and closed it again.

“Fine.” He muttered, pressing his palms to the teeth of the frozen mud in order to pull himself up, shifting his weight gingerly from foot to foot until he feels loose enough to clamber out of the hole. He paused before he did so, however, glancing over his shoulder and watching how Joe watched him, face set in pain. “It’s… I care about ya’, you know.”

Something in Joe’s eyes loosen, but not in his expression. Still, he says, “yeah, Bill. I know.” With enough gentleness to convince Bill to turn around again, pull himself out of the hole and wince at the sharp complaint of the shrapnel scar at his hip.

He started pushing back through trees and snow without much preamble, not exactly interested in waiting around and watching Toye freeze to death, and found George Luz waiting for him.

Waiting was probably the wrong word, since Bill was certain Luz wasn’t there for him, in specifics, but the other had his arms crossed over his sternum, fingers curled into his own body heat. In the absence and lack of cigarettes Bastogne has provided, he’d taken to running his tongue over his top lip before pulling the bottom one between his teeth.

He tilted his head at Bill when he saw him. A silent question. Bill shook his head, unneeding of preamble, and Luz just closed his eyes, brief, mulling and tired, before opening them again. They were ringed with red, and Bill didn’t have to ask why. Luz had been spending more time with Toye than Bill had, anyways, and even the limited time he had had was enough for his chest to feel tight.

“Thanks.” He said anyways, voice somewhere between a deadpan that always seemed somewhat light on him and something genuine. Bill just cuffed him carefully on the side of his face before moving down to shake his shoulder.

“No point in talking to him, I don’t think.” Bill told him. Luz just looked over his shoulder, pulling his bottom lip back in between his teeth.

“Yeah, well, I think I’ll—” He began. Bill tossed an arm over his shoulders before he could get too far, and George walked with him without much restraint.

“Don’t see how you could get through to him when I couldn’t.” Bill told him, which seemed too harsh to say, but he couldn’t regret voicing when he knew that Luz would just keep trying anyways, with, he was near-convinced, the same results.

They were both Toye’s friends, and if Joe wouldn’t listen to Bill, he doubted he’d listen to Luz.

Luz went with him without much fanfare. Ramirez didn’t actually have extra food, not really, but Bill knew that they’d’ve been able to scrape something together between at least a few guys, in case Toye would have actually agreed.

Luz turned to him as they hit the slight slope where some of the others had dug in, mainly Perconte and Skip. He looked tired, more tired than Bill had ever seen him and more beat down than some of the guys in the regiment. “Thanks for tryin’, Bill.” He said, seeming genuine, and Bill just shrugged.

“Joe’s my friend.” He said, didn’t tack on the so are you, and hoped that it was understood. He still didn’t understand, entirely, why Luz had asked him to check up on Toye, but figured that it had to do with having more guys on board leading to a likelier chance of the goddamn moron accepting more help.

Roe may have gotten him new shoes, but Bill doubted that frostbite was the sort of thing to be cured with a dead mans worn down leather.

They parted ways, after that. Bill went off to find Babe or Buck. Or maybe Lip.

-----

Bill didn’t write very many letters anymore. Earnest couldn’t read, and Henry was dead, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he had trouble trusting his ma, anymore.

He didn’t understand, why she wouldn’t tell him that Henry was killed. Why they wrote letters back and forth about nothing for five months and he wrote one sided letters that never reached Henry for five months and nothing ever came of it until he had to learn about Monte Casino from Pat Martin.

Still, he was trying to be dutiful, and he tapped the blistered, frozen end of his index finger against the letter he’d been trying to write for the better part of a week before lowering it, slight, with a huff.

It was hard to focus, out here. Not a lot to talk about, anyways. Nothing he wanted his mother to know about, at least.

It was still early in the day, at least when a watch was counting, but the sky was dark from a combination of an early setting sun and clouds of artillery fire, and Bill carefully folded the already ripped and freezing letter before putting it back into his pocket.

Compton was asleep next to him, barely moving. Bill would even doubt that he was breathing, if not for the white clouds that hung intermittently in the air, neatly suspended.

Careful not to wake him up, Bill pulled himself out of the grave and turned, careful, on a knee. He bent down enough to grab his rifle and pack and, glancing around for half of a second, set off.

He was looking for Lipton, mainly because Lip probably had something for him to do and, if he didn’t, at least would put up the effort of attempting to find something.

Navigating through the forest mainly on memory, Bill paused, for half of a second, when Toye’s voice caught on the icy shards of the air for half of a second before dispersing.

“‘S not going to work.” He said, sounded tired, and there was an exhale of breath that didn’t seem to belong to him, equally tired but maybe more determined.

“It might.” George Luz retorted, voice hoarse. “It might, so I’m not gonna stop—”

“George—”

“Joe.” Luz’s voice again, but firmer, less like himself in how little room he left for any type of humor. “Please.”

His voice broke on the word.

Bill hesitated in place, boots shifting against the snow for half of a second, unsure of whether or not to move on. If Luz was still trying to convince Toye to eat, or at least take some semblance of more rations than the other guys, then Bill should be there, he felt. But this felt like something different, more intimate, somehow, and he wasn’t sure about how to intrude.

It felt like maybe he wouldn’t need to, since the silence from the foxhole stretched on for too long, carried by the stillness of the frozen air, until Toye said, voice lower, rougher, “fine.”

Luz sighed, a quiet, heavy and relieved sound, and Bill shifted, started walking away.

He still had to find Lip, anyways.

-----

Two days later, it was December 25th, and there wasn’t much fanfare.

Earlier in the day, they had talked about it briefly. Malarkey had said, rather glumly, that he didn’t think Christmas could exist, here, and Bill had decided to agree with him and move on. No use dwelling when there were better things to complain about.

However, but and in spite of this, when it was dark enough out again that Bill thought it may be midnight at four in the afternoon, George Luz pressed a cigarette into his palm and said, “Merry Christmas, Ghonorrhea.”

Bill just blinked down at it. “You’re shitting me.”

Luz, apparently mistaking Bill’s bewilderment at his ability to save a cigarette out here, just shrugged. He turned against the foxhole he’d dropped into to present the gift to Bill, sliding down to sit next to him and pressing their shoulders together for warmth. “Nah.” He said, rather dully. “It’s Christmas.”

Bill snorted a laugh. It was sort of happy. A bit of an in-between, half-hearted amusement that was only funny because of who told the joke. “You give smokes to everyone?”

“Everyone I could.” Luz agreed. When Bill looked over at him, his eyes were closed, head dipped back against the frozen wall of the foxhole. The tip of his nose was blue.

Bill shifted, patting down his pocket with numb fingers until he found his lighter.

It was almost out, as Bill had taken habit to flicking it on and off for temporary warmth once the nights had stretched darker and smokes had run out, and it took him four tries to correctly spike the wheel and get the cigarette to catch.

Once it did, he held it out to Luz. George just shook his head, pushing Bill’s hand back towards his own mouth. He didn’t say anything, and Bill just shook his head before taking a drag.

“Hell, I’d think you’re dying.” He said grimly, perhaps slightly ironic. George huffed, like it was any sort of particularly amusing. “Giving up a smoke and then refusing to share it.”

The laugh he got for that seemed rather real. Luz shifted enough for them to be further apart but still share warmth, propping an elbow onto his knee as he pressed fingertips to his lips, as if in memory.

“Nah.” He said around his hand, quiet, but still amused. “It’s… I shared one earlier.”

He looked vaguely embarrassed. Bill watched him, close, for half of a second before shrugging.

“Alright.” He said, ambivalent. “I’m not gonna complain.”

The tip of Luz’s nose was still tinged with blue, but his face looked almost red. Bill chalked it up to the cold and left it at that.

-----

Bill used to think more about Henry. The lack of knowledge about his death and only learning from an accident used to keep him up some nights, mulling over a visage of his brother that never received the letters that he’d still written.

Among those things stand sound.

When he was younger, his mother had once told him that he could hear a bell ring from five miles off and come running to see the what for. Now, in war, it turned out to be very much the same.

He’d come to his friends when he’d heard them laughing, he’d come to them when he heard them swearing, and he didn’t have to think about it for very long at all before coming to his friend when he was calling for help.

That was all that he remembered, for a long while.

I gotta get up.

-----

The slow hobble back to America started in France, and the hospital that was just outside of Foy was crowded, smelled putrid, and was still somehow cold.

In spite of that, Toye was running a fever, and the dots of crystal that ran along his brow made Bill more worried than the fact that he couldn’t feel anything below his belly button.

“Y’think George is alright?” Joe asked him, his words slurring in strange places and vowels drawing out in others as his voice dragged along the line of incomprehensible.

Still, Bill could understand him, and just coughed. He was thinking of his friends, too, of Babe and Malarkey and Muck and Penkala and Compton and Lipton and hoping they were alright.

He reached out clumsily, clammy palm knocking against Toye’s too-dry one in a gesture he hoped was comforting.

“Sure.” He said, patting Toye’s hand again. “He’s on a lucky streak, ain’t he? Never been hit.”

He couldn’t move his neck at all, some sort of numbing, absent ache that had settled in between his vertebrae on the transport over here. They’d already put him through one surgery, and he hadn’t looked down since. Didn’t know if he could, didn’t want to.

Joe was worse off, though, was nearing delirious, and he coughed, once, the noise almost as dry as bone, and said, “I miss him.”

Bill… Bill didn’t know what to say to that.

He kept his hand on Toye’s and listened to other wounded men cry.

-----

Once, when he’d been a kid — maybe eight or nine years old — he’d walked with Henry down to the local pound.

It was a miserable place, smelled like vomit and piss and was run by a mean old woman with an even meaner mug, and Henry hadn’t let him get too close to the bars that held the dogs back as she walked them through the halls.

Looking back on it, Bill didn’t know why she even let them do that. They clearly weren’t gonna get a goddamn dog. Maybe she was bored.

At the end of the hall, where one of the lights had stopped working and it was easy to tell something with the electricity had been fried by the smell in the air, there were two dogs, grown and skinnier than sticks, pressed together with big eyes and bigger teeth.

Pack bonded, the old woman had excused with a wave of her hand, like it was a disease without any cure. Can’t get one out without the other. Giving them another three days before it’s lights out.

Bill didn’t like to think of the pound. It made something underneath his skin crawl.

Still, the words pack bonded probably had meaning.

They somehow stayed together from France and into England, beds together and everything.

The hospital in England was much nicer than the one in France, and although Bill was sure being back in the States would be better, the warmth of the hospital made the subsequent, subsisting ache of his leg and hips and back die out, somewhat.

Joe’s head was bent over his work, nose almost touching the paper as he traced over the same words he’d already written out twice.

Ages ago, Bill probably would have poked at him for it, but now, that type of entertainment has vanished, as intangible as being sick.

Since getting out of France, Joe had been writing out a letter every Saturday without fail, and always did so at least three times.

Would write out the letter clumsily, triple-check the spelling, wait for the ink to dry, and then write the exact same thing out again, and a third time for good measure.

Bill didn’t necessarily get it. Joe didn’t have the neatest handwriting, but it’s not that bad. Still, he didn’t say anything, and Joe didn’t look up when there’s a clatter on the other end of the hall.

They’re still mostly bound to the bed, January becoming a friendly greeting of wet ground and cold air that makes walking so soon after everything nearly agonizing. Both of them — most of the time, at least — want to get moving, but it could be worse.

Joe sat upright and slouched in his own bed, bad leg stretched out to the side as he wrote on the tray that a nurse had brought around about a week ago that he just kept re-using. The second letter he’d rewritten was by his elbow as he redid the third with ink-stained fingers.

It was a bit ridiculous, Bill thought, since he always trashed the first two letters. Only ever writes to one person consistently. Still, he didn’t say anything.

He missed his friends, too (Babe, Malarkey, Compton, Lip. Didn’t want to think about Skip or Penk, anymore), but not with the same devotion that Toye seemed to miss George Luz.

Bill didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t look to closely at it, either.

He didn’t want to.

-----

When they finally get back to the US, it was still cold, but in the same way that everything felt cold, now. Same way that everything ached.

Still, Toye snorted a short laugh when Bill flipped a handful of sand at him, and then used the wire-and-wicker side of his wheelchair to get a hold of it and dump him into the sand.

Bill swore, startled as his elbow hit the soft, heated surface, and he kicked more sand at Joe with his remaining leg before maneuvering back around, smacking at Joe’s bare shoulder.

Toye was unperturbed.

He had, frustratingly, infuriatingly, and perhaps traitorously, taken to the wheelchair like a fish out of water. His own chair, a few yards back, had been easily abandoned, and Bill envied him only slightly for the coordination that seemed to come more naturally to him.

“You’re a bastard.” He said to Joe, who just shrugged.

He was wearing a white undershirt, but the waist of it had ridden up enough for the thick, rubbery scarring of old shrapnel and flak surgeries to still show.

Bill was dressed nearly identical, down to the too-warm slacks pinned at the bad leg and bloused at the good one.

“Any word from the Airborne?” He asked, as had become half-hearted tradition since mail-call had begun with more regularity since winter had begun to wane into a precariously hopeful and no less bloody spring.

Bill just grunted, shifting around in the sand for half of a second in order to tug the thin stack of letters out of the pocket he’d initially shoved them into.

“One from Malark, one from Liebgott, of all damn people. And…” He trailed off, dropping the last letter onto Joe’s lap without having to address it.

Technically, there’s two from Luz, although the envelopes have been secured together with a fraying piece of twine. Bill counted it as one, anyways, and went about tearing open the letter from Liebgott.

Toye opened Luz’s letters in much of the opposite way, carefully working open the edges. It always drove Bill up the wall to watch, so he looked away again. Out at the sparsely occupied beach, the water, back to the handwriting in his lap.

They were still on hospital grounds, out here, with the only other people around other men with similar problems. Bill doubted that Joe would have come out here at all if that hadn’t been the case.

“Any news?” He asked, something along the dip of his throat itching for a cigarette as he dipped his hand into his pocket to fish out a pack and a lighter.

Joe just hummed, the sound low, more focused than he usually was. “Nah.” He said, quiet. “No news. Boring.” Contrary to his words, the corner of his mouth was curved up into a smile that Bill hardly ever saw.

Bill just snorted, pushed at his shoulder. “Yeah, yeah.” He said, dry and rapport in an effort to remain guileless. “War’s a real boring affair, y’know. Real boring.”

“Real boring.” Toye agreed, toneless.

“Real boring.”

Bill flipped over Liebgotts letter. Something about swimming trunks.

There was extra space at the bottom of the page, and, after fishing briefly for a pen, Bill wrote out ASK YOUR DAMN MA in big block letters and made a note to return to sender.

-----

It was cold most nights, and this one was no different. Still, the walls and windows did most of the work to keep the cold out and the rest unphased him, nothing as worse as it had been even a year ago.

Fran laughed as he pretended to dip her, and then nosed at his cheek playfully when she was righted once again.

Pressing her lips to the spot before pulling back just briefly enough to glance over her shoulder, she says, “I think that the lights on the wall are going out.”

Bill taps lightly at her calf with his left crutch but still looks over at them, squinting against the blinking soft reds and greens of them. “Guess so.” He said, not really being able to tell but trusting her anyways. “Want me to fix ‘em?”

“Nah, someone else will get them.” She let him turn her around again. When she shook her head, a curl fell into her face and Bill brushed it back with two fingers. She smiled at him, brilliant, and Bill snorted and looked away.

The Christmas party that they’d pulled together had turned into somewhat of an Easy Co. reunion, with enough guys close enough to Philadelphia being able to drive or take a train down to the tiny conference room they’d rented out with whatever savings they had to go to waste.

Johnny was dancing with Pat about five feet from them, and Fran pulled his focus back to her by patting him on the side of his face.

“Joe okay?” She asked, by way of conversation starter, and Bill blinked at her.

“Joe? Joe’s fine.” He said, turning around to locate Toye and prove his point before pausing, frowning. “Huh.”

Joe had — grudgingly, if the letter and short phone call had been any tone indicator — come out from Hughestown for the party, and had been sitting in the same place for about an hour. Turning around and finding him absent was new, but Bill just shrugged.

“Probably moving around.” He dismissed easily. “Y’know, stretching out the muscles, and the like.”

Fran just hummed, stepped back half of a step in a silent request to be spun again. Bill did so, and, after listening to her laugh, realized that he didn’t know where Luz had went, either.

For being further away, Luz coming to Philly had been easier to convince and swing than Toye, the man as easygoing as ever and brushing off Bill’s grudging offer to assist in travel with a simple statement of planning on being in the area anyways, and then not elaborating.

The music switched and a Sinatra song came on. Fran crossed her eyes at him, playful, and Bill did so back before forgetting all about it.

-----

Bill didn’t even think about it until later.

Franny was talking to Pat about something-or-the-other after announcing she’d gotten tired of dancing, and, with Johnny and Babe wrapped up in some sort of conversation that Bill had decided he wanted no part in, he’d started down the hall in order to find something to fix the lights with.

Old habits must die hard, however, or something within Bill must, because he heard George Luz’s laughter — quieter than usual, and maybe more breathy — and paused, leaned against the wall.

“Just come back with me.”

Toye hummed back, the sound turned up at the edges, and Bill shifted between his crutches and the wall. “I already got the ticket.” He said, like a fine point. “That’s good money to waste.”

“Give it to Johnny. He said that they were lookin’ to see more of Pennsylvania before getting back home.”

When Bill turned around the corner, just enough to see the sight beyond it but not be spotted in return, he blinked.

Luz’s back was to the bleached brick of the hall, otherwise empty, head tilted back against it. Toye, leaning heavy against one of his crutches while his other arm wrapped around Luz’s waist, had bent his head enough to press his forehead to the others cheek, Luz’s hand carding through his hair, keeping his head in place.

Bill blinked and stepped back again.

“That’s not a bad idea.” Toye said, sounded warm and not entirely grudging.

“‘Course it’s not, it’s mine.” Luz said back, like a joke. “Plus, that gives us — what? An extra day? Half of one?”

“Could have a whole lot more than that if you moved.”

“Impatient, impatient. Three more months, right?”

“Three more months.” Toye said back to him, the last thing uttered before a lull in sound.

Huh.

Bill beat it.

-----

He couldn’t say that he never really understood Joe’s whole relationship with Luz.

He felt like it was a friendship, but deeper, somehow, than the others in the Airborne (at least that he knew of) and the scene in the hall — which he now moved briskly away off, keen on not being caught — had lit up some other thought in him about them that he decided to not look at too closely.

And maybe that was the best way to go about the whole thing, in a way. Don’t look at it too closely.

Toye seemed happy, and so did Luz, and Bill didn’t want to think about what their friendship was, exactly, so the best way to go about it seemed to just not think about it.

-----

By the time he made it back to the room, Sinatra was still playing, and Fran lit up and waved when she saw him. Bill waved back and made his way over to her, still thinking about the hallway.

“Find the right stuff for the lights?” She asked him, staying seated but turning at the waist as he leaned against the wall beside her.

“Nah.” Bill said, then paused. He looked across the floor at the still blinking lights and then shrugged, reached out enough to press his fingertips to her shoulder. “I think it’s probably fine. Just don’t look at it too close, I guess.”

Fran just leaned into him. “If you say so.” She said easily, but didn’t seem to mind either way.

-----

(Three months and two weeks later, Fran is sorting through their mail.

“Huh.” She said absently, flipping a letter over to examine the blank back before turning it back again. “Guess George Luz moved down to Hughestown.”

Bill was sitting opposite her at the table, painstakingly writing out thank-you letters to Christmas cards received. “It say why?”

“Guess he got a job down there. Good for him, I suppose. If it pays better, and all.”

Bill realized after half of a second that he was smiling, somewhat. “Yeah.” He said, tapping the side of his nose absentmindedly. “Good for him. Pennsylvania’s better than Rhode Island or Massachusetts, anyways.” )

#rie writes #love ya sach hope you at least find this enjoyable <33 #luztoye #band of brothers #george luz #joe toye #joseph toye #bill guarnere #hbo war #hbowarsanta24

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