#looping family (but no one is saying it) au

[andy-lup]

Hi. You know I'm working on this fic where everyone is looping but no one is saying it?

Well, this is a preview, I think. They're at the library because Isabeau is looking for Time Craft information and other smart people stuff.

Anyways, see ya next time I finish another drawing 🐊

[arolesbianism]

May I offer some Siffrins on this fine day

[madebycloud]

Ex at Christmas

violet "vi" x female reader — 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬⠀ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I've been fine, old man.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What's in the box?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

Vander chuckles before stepping back to talk to Silco.

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

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

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

Of course you got Vi.

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

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

Well, crap.

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

“So, who'd you get?”

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

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

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

“It's a secret for a reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ha ha, funny.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yes, you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

You quickly hold the present out for him to take.

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

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

Girlfriend?

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

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

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

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

“Then you should've said no.”

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

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

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

You blink at her. “What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is gonna be a long night.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gritting your teeth, you loosen your grip. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vi mutters under her breath, “finally.”

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

“We're coming,” Vi calls back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We're really gonna do this?”

Claggor nudges him. “Be polite, Mylo.”

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

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

Mylo and Powder grumble something under their breaths.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vander gives him a warm look in response.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like you don't swear all the time.”

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

“Yeah, yeah, sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine, we'll wait,” she grumbles.

Mylo just nods with a pout, staying quiet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It might as well be,” Powder counters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it could work this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You notice her scent again, now stronger.

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

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

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

You just want her.

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

Claggor shoots Powder a look. “Powder-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bullshit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Way too many times.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course we'll come.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, no, I am,” you hurriedly say.

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

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

Why is she so fit?

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you a question?”

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

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

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

Instead, she asks something completely left-field.

“Do you ever think about us?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, you thought about her a lot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anything, anything other than “I do.”

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

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

“Why do you think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't know which one would be worse.

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

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

It's maddening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin somehow widens even more. 

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

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

“Go ahead, Claggs,” he says approvingly.

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

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

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

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

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

..and then he groans, covering his face.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

Claggor merely grins. “I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…and she's right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Even Silco is starting to look amused.

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

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

Mylo falls back onto the floor, clutching his stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Vander obeys, reluctantly straightening up.

“Say cheese.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Claggor puts his head in his hands, bracing himself.

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

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

“My secret Santa... is Powder!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I'm so scared.”

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

“I was just having fun.”

“Yeah, have fun with a black eye.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She's watching you intently, her expression anxious. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, young love,” Silco says. 

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

“Don't you mean your younger hookups?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You watch silently as she unwraps the gift. 

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

“I made it myself,”

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

“Obviously...”

“I mean... it's…”

“It's hideous?” you suggest.

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

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

“I can tell.”

“Then, try it on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want me to say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on,” you encourage.

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

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

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

What the hell do you say to that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me walk you home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

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

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

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

“Damn right you do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“You're not fooling anyone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only time will tell.”

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

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

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

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

notes: idk what is happening

[sharkylass]

ALRIGHT, I ASKED FOREVER AGO, BUT WHO WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT MY ISA LOOPS AU??

Heads up this contains a lot, and I mean A LOT of spoilers for In Stars And Time. Including: = Act 6 spoilers, including main mystery and secret encounter = Minimal Act 5 stuff = And a bunch of extra stuff that happens through Act 3 and 4. SO BASICALLY ALMOST EVERYTHING, FINISH THIS GAME COMPLETELY BEFORE READING (ESPECIALLY THAT ACT 6 ENCOUNTER, IT WILL LITERALLY BE THE FIRST THING I MENTION UNDER THE CUT)

With all those warnings out of the way-

IN REPETITION AND CHANGE

Initial Concepts:

I feel it's important to show these sketches because they were the first ideas I ever had. I wasn't even entirely sure I wanted to make an AU at this point, I didn't even know how I'd approach it. But I started sketching and it's been on my mind since- SO! Isa is stuck in the timeloop. I know what his wish is and he DOES have a Loop equivalent! The grumpy dandelion guy is Roboro (it/they/he). Their name is a very small play on Ouroboros and they call Isa "Seedling". However, this post is not about them, as I'm gonna talk about it and Isa's dynamic in a separate post. In short, Isa is his normal loud self up until Act 3, right? They beat the King, they reach the end, and whoops, the loop isn't broken. So now, what happens is that Isa starts getting his brains out. He starts thinking more analytically and tries to problem solve.

The more stuck he gets in his head, the less he's able to perceive his friends as real people, and more like them holding him back. Because even if Isa explains that he's smart, that they shouldn't be surprised if he says something, shock of all shocks, reasonable- They'll forget it the next loop.

So Isa is stuck with trying to portray his confident, loud, supportive facade- Which is fine! It wouldn't be the first time! But it progressively gets more and more frustrating, as he tries to find answers and simply looses the energy to pretend to be stupid.

TL;DR: Isa in the timeloop, unlike Siffrin, becomes more distant and cold rather then something more akin to Sif's mania.

NOW, MORE ART!!!

KILL KILL KILL:

I imagine Isa didn't have this encounter the same way that Sif did. Yeah, frankly, Isa is pissed with the sadness- But that's not why he goes through with this.

In this moment, Isa is trying to kill two birds with one stone. He's trying to get through this quickly, as well as reassure Mira that they can do this! If he shows how strong he is, then she'll feel safe right???

Poor Isabeau forgot that whenever he shows that he thinks ahead, he scares people. How could he forget that? How could he forget that he's inherently---

Family Quest:

I still think Odile is the one to call out to him (same with sus quest).

The hangouts I'm still figuring out, cause I don't think they'd too similar to base game- But, fun fact, at the end of this run, everyone agrees to keep travel together!

Isabeau brings it up, can't hurt if you can fix your mistakes right? And everyone agrees. The relief on Siffrin is the most palpable thing Isabeau has ever seen.

In this moment they love you. In this moment they all love you. In this moment---

Death Screen:

He loops back anyways. (This is one of the initial concepts that I ended up animating. This line in particular is when he reaches the end)

Act 5 Tarot Card:

NOW TO SEE MORE OF HIS PASSIVE AGRESSIVE SIDE

Thanks to @the-bitter-ocean for prescribing tarot cards to Isa (THEY ALL FUCK SO HARD) and for the RAW ASS LINE

If interacted with in act 5, predictably, Isa tears it apart. He doesn't need the divine judgement upon him, he's faced everyone's perception his entire life.

However, he tears it methodically. Tears it once in even pieces, twice, three times, and one of the pieces once more. In a way he isn't even getting his emotions out, it's like he's actively trying to tear it apart so it stops nagging him, like he wants to shut it up. Though, the Judgement card symbolizes rebirth, absolution and inner calling. In Act 6 he'd be able to look at it and find comfort and confidence in the card.

Act 5 Mirror:

And lastly, I have the Act 5 mirror picture. I haven't quite figured out how to make the normal ones work yet, however, I couldn't let go of the idea that Isa would not want to be in the picture.

The idea of seeing himself at all makes his head hurt and his stomach squeeze. The memory haunts him as he stands to the side and says the word. He didn't think the mirror would catch him.

AAAAND THAT'S ALL THE ART STUFF FOR NOW!!

I still have quite a bit of it to post, especially about Roboro, but I'm gonna leave it here for now.

I still gotta figure out the hangouts and potentially the dagger equivalent- but I have ideas for Bad Touch, the glass equivalent, and some extra little things that didn't happen in Siffrin's loops.

I needed to yap about this, because I've been slowly stacking up ideas and writing and I needed to share it at some point- If anyone read all this and has questions and stuff I fully welcome 'em!!

[fatherbrat]

cw. hockey player!sukuna, college au, reader just became the team manager and doesn't know how to ice skate. shiu + satoru are also on the team. reader & sukuna do Not like each other. sfw, 1.5k words.

you hear the sound of the gym door slamming closed at the very same moment your butt hits the ice. again. 

your head whips around towards the door, wondering who else would come to the campus ice rink during winter break. everyone should be home, enjoying time with their families, or at least time away from school.

sukuna stands at the entrance, a duffle bag hanging over his right shoulder and two hockey sticks in his left hand. he just looks at you for a moment, his hostile expression heating your face. you catch the subtle curl of his upper lip and roll your eyes, turning back around and lifting yourself off the ground. you’re close enough to steady yourself on the ledge of the boards before you lose balance again.

you hear sukuna's footsteps echo in the empty gym, the keys clipped to his duffle bag rattling loudly. the sound stops abruptly once he's close enough to analyze you through the shielding.

"what are you doing in my rink?"

cool, cool, cool, cool. as if your sworn enemy walking in on you wet and cold and exhausted wasn't bad enough, he's gonna be a total dick about it too. (to be expected honestly.)

you shrug, still holding onto the ledge. "i can't be helpful to a hockey team if i can't ice skate."

sukuna sneers, muttering something you don't care to hear before heading off towards the locker rooms.

you know sukuna never wanted you to get hired on as team manager in the first place. unfortunately for him, the captain doesn’t get to veto the decision of the coach, who offered you the job the day after your interview. 

it's not even your fault. shiu and satoru are the ones who schemed and plotted for you to become their manager anyway. they encouraged you to go in for the interview even though you hadn’t even applied. (at least, you thought you hadn’t. turns out shiu submitted an application in your name while borrowing your laptop. you suspect him and satoru also “encouraged” their coach to pick you out of the dozens of other students who had applied.)

you manage to fall three more times before sukuna comes out of the locker room dressed in his practice gear. he sits down on the bench where you’d abandoned your things to put on his skates and you sigh, preparing to scoot out of the rink. 

when he steps on the ice and glides towards you, you aren’t expecting him to hold his hands out for you to grab. he yanks you up with too much force and you nearly tumble again. your cheek meets his chest, face smushed up against him while your hands are still in his. he lets go, instead grabbing you by your upper arms and forcing you upright.

“bend your knees,” he says, voice steely.

you just blink, stunned that he’s not carrying you off the ice and demanding you go home. it takes you too long, but you bend your knees slightly and look up at sukuna, silently waiting for more instruction. 

“stop trying to walk on the ice. this isn’t walking, it’s skating. march.”

sukuna spends the next three hours teaching you the basics of ice skating. you fall some more, but it hurts less after he tells you to fall on your side and stop flailing. he reprimands you for always staying within arms reach of the wall, something about it stunting the learning process or whatever. you don’t touch any of the ledges again, your arms mostly staying extended out in front of you. his directions are harsh, but by the time it’s dark outside you’ve managed to skate your way around the perimeter of the rink nearly a dozen times without falling.

you almost squeal with joy after the tenth loop, opting instead to raise your arms in the air and smile wide. sukuna just nods once, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“okay, you’re good for now. buy a new pair of skates, it’ll be easier on sharper blades. those rentals suck. and you didn’t tie them right.” his tone is no different than it was when he first entered the building, as if talking to you is a chore he has to get out of the way. maybe a couple years ago it would’ve made you shrink, but now it just pisses you off more than anything.

you nod slowly, making a mental note to ask satoru where you should buy skates from (and wondering if you can convince him to buy them for you). sukuna makes a dramatic sweeping motion with both his arms, gesturing towards the exit. 

“can i have my rink back now?” he asks, arms still outstretched.

you roll your eyes but don’t argue, his reward for successfully teaching you how to skate. you even mutter a thank you as you glide past him, but he just waves you away.

he starts to set up for drills as you untie your borrowed skates, dropping little orange cones on the ice in some intricate zig zag pattern. you watch him for a moment before your phone rings, vibrating the entire bench.

a picture of you and satoru lights up the screen, his name dancing across the top. sukuna gives you a pointed glare when you answer it without making any move to leave.

“hi ‘toru.”

he greets you excitedly from the other end. “we’ve been texting you all day,” he whines, probably referring to him and shiu. “where’ve you been?”

you smile. “i, uh, came back to school early. the thought of managing a hockey team while not being able to skate was actually haunting me, so i came to practice a little.”

satoru fusses about how you should have told him and that he would have come back to teach you in a heartbeat, but you just brush him off. 

“i didn’t need you. i made it around the rink ten times in a row without falling. i’m basically a pro now.” your voice drips with pride and you’re sure satoru can hear your grin.

“oh yeah? who taught you how to do that?”

it only takes you two seconds to decide you do not want him to know about your impromptu skating lesson with his captain. satoru already knows all the unsavory details about your previous spats with sukuna, and you know he’d tell shiu immediately, who would be quick to interrogate you about it. he'd probably tease sukuna about it too, which would probably make the man hate you more. you wouldn't even blame him. shiu's teasing can be incessant.

“nobody did. i taught myself,” you say.

you swear you see sukuna stiffen out on the ice, and when he turns to face you the look on his face can only be described as malicious. it’s enough to make you immediately gather your things and rush out of the building. you feel his eyes crawling over you all the way from the bench to the double doors.

a blast of icy wind shocks your system when you step outside. satoru’s talking, saying something about how he can be back on campus by tomorrow night, and how he can probably get shiu to come with. you want to tell him that he doesn’t have to come back early just because you did, but the look on sukuna’s face still has you a little rattled.

not for the first time, dread slithers its way up from your gut. shiu was the one who ultimately convinced you that becoming the manager for the hockey team would be a good idea. good for your resume, good for the team, a good way to get to hang out more often. at the time, you thought he was right. he’s not really wrong now, but you worry that you and the captain’s mutual dislike for each other will get in the way.

satoru says your name, and the way he says it sounds like he’s been repeating it for a while.

“yeah hey, sorry i’m here.”

“you okay?” he asks.

“yeah, yeah, i’m good.” the walk from the ice rink to the parking lot is unnecessarily long, something you’ve heard satoru complain about many, many times. “i’m just walking to my car. it’s so fucking cold. there’s no reason for the parking lot to be this far away.”

“ugh, i know,” satoru huffs. he asks again if you want him to come up early. you say yes.

the two of you hang up when you make it to your car. your phone vibrates with a text from shiu a couple minutes later. you’re still sitting there in the parking lot, blasting the heat and trying to figure out how to make the next few months of school bearable. 

maybe sukuna will suddenly transfer schools in the middle of the semester. or do something that gets him benched for the rest of the season. or get hit by a car. yeah. any of those would be good.

you can only hope.

a/n. this is part of a kinda larger enemies-to-lovers thing i'm building and i just wanted to get this off my chest. i hope it still made sense with minimal context (..◜ᴗ◝..)

[ambros1an]

Hsr characters in a Soulmate au

warnings: sunday backstory, implied Gopher Wood being a bad father (Sunday), implied stellaron hunter Sunday, discrimination (aventurine, not said by reader), debt (aventurine), firefly backstory, 2.0-2.2 penacony spoilers

characters: Sunday, Aventurine, Firefly

a/n: it's so obvious who's my #1 fav in this

Sunday: writing

Throughout the world, everyone had the ability to communicate to their soulmates through writing on their own skin.

Sunday doesn't remember much about his childhood. His home-world was entrenched in war. The only constant in his life was his own sister, and the strange symbols on his wrists.

After being taken in by Gopher Wood, he would be taught that those symbols were words, and they came from his Soulmate. Excitedly, he'd take to the books to communicate with the person on the other end. At first it was little doodles, then broken sentences, and then full on conversations.

He wrote about his sister, the charmony dove, music and literature. One day, the writing stopped. You'd jot down messages in concern, so worried to the point your hand writing looked like illegible scribbles. He never did tell you his name after all.

After years, finally you got a response.

'Meet me at Dreamflux Reef, here, at 8 pm.' You couldn't help but notice that your soulmate's penmanship had improved after all these years. The once poor excuse for cursive wasn't just printed letters attached to one another, but font-like in it's neatness with broad loops. Despite the brief words written on your skin, your stomach rolled. Was it nerves or excitement?

There was a little hand-drawn map, taking up a portion of your forearm, with an 'X' on the location. You approached the streetlight ahead of you. It was five minutes before 8 pm, at the exact area he told you to be at.

There was somebody there. In the darkness, it was hard to see. The streetlight offered little brightness. Just a faint glow upon whoever it was. They were clearly halovian, a light bounced off their halo, providing a shine in your line of sight. Contrarily, they stood in dark clothes. And seemed to be fidgeting...as if waiting for someone.

As if on cue, the figure straightens up and turns to look at you. Those grey feathers and yellow eyes were unmistakable.

"Mr. Sunday?" The man hasn't been seen since the Order was chased out of Penacony.

"I didn't expect you to show up early," Sunday gives a halfhearted chuckle, then he calls your name, "you are them, right?"

"Yes, but-" You look towards your arm where the writing is located.

He sighs and shakes his head, "I...I'm the one who's been writing to you all these years." Sunday lifts his sleeve, on it is your reply to him, asking where he's been, and saying you'd be there.

Your soulmate was Sunday. The former head of the Oak Family. An MIA criminal. But also your childhood friend, who you never met.

There was so much to say, but the only thing you could think to ask was, "Why? You've been gone for so long..."

"I'm sorry. My fa-the dream master, prevented me from reaching out to you. He wanted me to be 'the chosen one' for The Order. I'm sorry that it took so long for me to-"

Gently, you put your arms around him.

"I was so worried. Please, talk to me. About everything."

He would, but now, all he wanted to do was rest in your embrace.

Aventurine: eye color

Everyone has one of their eyes the same eye color as their soulmate’s, until they meet.

It’s something that’s so arbitrary and meaningless to most people. There are only so many colors in the universe after all. But not yours.

“Sigonian.” Disdain.

“Poor child.” Pity.

“Whoever your soulmate is, you’re better off not meeting them.” Disgust.

Sigonia. A far off planet somewhere in the galaxy. Lightyears away. Where a people known for their unique eyes resides. Or used to reside.

Looking into the mirror, your right eye looks back at you, it’s a purple tinged with blue. You wonder what your soulmate’s would’ve looked like. You’ve long since accepted that any possible soulmate would’ve died years ago. Not even baseless rumors could settle any feelings of loss.

Knock Knock

Debt collectors.

The gentle knocks turn into bangs. The person standing outside takes a full walk around your house, peering inside any windows in search of you. The IPC was relentless when it came to debt. They'd make constant calls, tell your neighbors, blackmail their debtors, tack on more and more money, all to collect as much money as possible.

Just as your nerves calm down your phone rings. It's from a family member.

"Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling from the IPC." That's not them. The voice is male with a smoothness to his voice. He disguised his number.

Just when you're about to hang up, "Don't hang up yet, I have a proposition for you." He instructs you to open the door.

You follow his instructions. Each step you make, the pit in your stomach gets wider. The door creeks as you turn the knob.

Two purple eyes, with a blue ring around the pupil. Sigonian. His eyes mirror your right one. But, within his reflection you see your own two regular colored eyes. Wait-

The man's mouth drops in shock, but instantly pulls into a grin. He hangs up the call.

"I see what's going on here. This time, the charge is on me," Aventurine insists. He's covered in designer clothing from head to toe, with golden rings lining each finger. You know right then and there that anything you say will get you nowhere. You're just glad he seems to be on your side.

"...Thank you."

"Mmm, but I never said it was without recompense." Shit. "In return, I'll provide you with a better place to live. This place is a bit...run down," he takes a glance around your home, and you can't help but feel embarrassed.

"Thank you, Aventurine, but that just sounds like I'll be in your debt."

He waves you off. "Debt? No, friend. What kind of partner would I be to let my soulmate fend for themselves?"

Firefly : timer

Every person across the galaxy has a timer leading up to the meeting of their soulmate.

4,000 years. Approximately 35,040,000 hours.

That was what Firefly had.

When she first awoke in her incubation chamber, it felt like she could wait forever. Their purpose was to devote their entire being to Glamoth. She did not dream. Not of the warmth of someone’s hands in theirs. Not of someone telling her that she was more. That was not a right of a weapon.

Yet, under the ashen sky and fields of smoke, not a single light shone through. Glamoth would never see the sun again. That was no place for a firefly.

For the last time she broke all protocol.

They unfurled their wings and chased the light. Finally, Unit AR-26710’s heart fluttered for a purpose that wouldn’t destroy.

24 hours = 1,440 minutes = 86,400 seconds.

They’d be landing in Penacony soon. She looked at her wrist, where the countdown was located. 1 day. She could feel her heart beat in her throat; she was so nervous.

Love. Kafka taught her that emotion. She’d never felt it before. Not that way.

Her eyes never left the window.

5 minutes = 300 seconds.

299, 298, 297, 296… Thinking in seconds was faster than minutes. It made time go faster. Minutes felt like eternity.

120, 119, 118, 117… Were they standing in the same area? Could she be looking at them right now? How far apart were they? Would they be tall or short? Would they be the time to put milk before cereal? Would they even like her?

10, 9, 8, 7… She watched the time tick away. She didn’t dare to look up least she burn up from the inside. It felt like her propulsion accidentally activated.

4, 3, 2, 1—

A figure crashed into her from behind. “I’m so sorry!”

0

She turned to look, and there you were. Yet, there was no celebration like she imagined. No hugging. No holding each other in an embrace. Instead, your face was pulled into grimace. Your arm gently interlocking with hers. Your posture was tight and hunched. All the signs of an uneasy person. Two Bloodhound members trailed after you.

“Did we do something wrong?” Firefly moved to stand in front of you

“That’s classified information,” one of the bloodhound guards say, gaze shifting off to look at you.

“I really didn’t do anything.” You look at Firefly with a pleading look.

The girl looks back at you and nods. She grabs your hand, the one the countdown is located on and charges for the alleys.

You hear the slap of their shoes against the concrete. The hurried pants of the guards. The footsteps behind you get louder and closer. In spite of the danger, all you can think about is the girl whose fingers are intertwined with yours. It brings a rush to your cheeks that only a breeze can soothe.

When your soulmate rounds the corner of the alley, her warm hand laced with yours turn a cold metallic. Her other hand placed around the small of your back in support. The suit of the armor is cold against your skin, but there’s a heat that radiates from the chest of the mech. It soothes your nerves. The lack of heat from her hand interlocked with yours may be replaced, but it was welcome.

When she unwraps her wings from behind her suit, a warm air erupts around you. Suddenly, you’re in the sky. The wind ruffles your hair, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when it dawns on you that you’re in your soulmate’s arms.

‘How would the other hunters react if they knew she blew her cover? Kafka was definitely going to tease her."

a/n #2: aven's was so hard to write. he feels like such a sleazebag in this but its only because he's in work mode I promise !! I want to do more of these bc it was fun.

[archangeldyke-all]

Sevika idea? Modern AU. Sevika and Reader (mostly reader because Sevika just grumbles about it) decide to take Jinx and Isha to an amusement park for the first time. Sevika is..... okay with it? But it's not her thing..

..That is until they get there and Sevika goes into full dad mode when she rides a rollercoaster with the two and now she can't stop because she wants to ride everything with them.

GOD GOD GOD i love fluffy fluffy fluff like this omg

men and minors dni

the girls sit you down one evening, both of them wearing determined looks and wearing one of sevika's old ties around their neck. jinx does most of the talking while isha hands out brochures and drawings.

"ladies, thank you for coming to this meeting." she greets. sevika rolls her eyes.

"you both forced us to come sit on the couch."

"shush." jinx flips sevika off quickly, before clearing her throat and continuing. "you may be wondering why we've asked you here today--"

"dragged." sevika corrects.

"hush!" jinx stomps her foot. isha glares at sevika. you elbow her. she sighs.

"fine, go."

"we have a business proposition for you." jinx announces. "in exchange for a month's allowance, we'd like you to take us to, drum roll please..."

isha pats her lap, giggling as you join in.

"randy's rollercoasters!" isha does a little twirl for emphasis.

sevika groans. you chuckle. isha hands you two brochures for randy's rollercoasters.

"now, hold on a second." you cut in. "we give you an allowance in exchange for your chores. you're telling me you'll clean the toilets without any pay? all month?" you ask.

jinx and isha nod, and isha crosses over her heart as a promise.

sevika grunts beside you. "and what are we supposed to do there while you two go on all the rides? stand in the hot sun and wait around all day?"

"oh, come on, sev! you can ride with us!"

"fuck no!"

"they sell beer." you mutter under your breath, pointing to the drinks and food section of your brochure. "we could just get tipsy and make out in dark corners while the kids ride."

jinx sticks her tongue out at the suggestion, but sevika seems intrigued. isha's blinking up at both of you with her hands folded under her chin, her gold eyes wide and watery as she waits for an answer.

sevika sighs, then groans. "fine."

the girls burst into cheers.

that's what you think will happen-- that the girls will have a great time and you and sevika will make the most of your day loitering around the park.

but then you get there, and isha gets spooked seeing how big the rollercoasters really are, and you and sevika promise to go on her first ride with her to show her it's safe.

but something about the thrill and watching her girls squeal with fear and excitement makes sevika all giddy and excited after the first ride.

it's adorable.

"have you never been on a roller coaster before, babe?"

"it's been almost twenty years!" she laughs, hoisting isha onto her shoulders. "okay, which one are we hitting next?" she asks jinx. isha squeals with excitement. you pout.

"we!? what about me?! i'll get sick if i go on another one of those rides."

sevika turns to you with a pout. your heart swells in your chest.

"c'mon, baby, please? just a few more rides, and i'm yours for the day. i just wanna do the log flume. and maybe the one with the loops."

"and the death dropper." jinx adds on. sevika nods.

"yeah, and the death dropper."

you examine your wife, laughter bubbling up in your lungs as you take in the excited, childlike glimmer in her eye. she's just as excited as isha and jinx. "you kids go have fun. if you need me, i'll be by the funnel cakes and beer." you say, shooing your family away toward the rides.

sevika grins, kissing your cheek and taking off with jinx at her side, isha cackling as they run toward the next ride.

so, you don't get to make out with your wife much. but you get a whole bunch of fun pictures of your family on the rides, a lot of cotton candy, and three million watt smiles from your girls and wife every time they come off a ride.

when the day winds down and the girls get tired, you walk around the carnival booths on the park grounds, letting isha and jinx play games and win bears.

sevika's got an arm slung around your shoulders, a smile on her lips. "'m sorry i abandoned you today." she says. you laugh.

"are you kidding? i had a blast today. getting to watch you three have all that fun, snacking and drinking to my heart's content-- we should do this every weekend." you suggest.

isha and jinx both perk up at that. sevika cackles. "no! no, we can not afford that. but, we can come back for isha's birthday." she suggests.

isha wins you a teddy bear with one of the darts games, then sevika gets jealous and tries to win you one of the strength testers. only, she hits the hammer so hard it's handle snaps in half, and the attendant has to close the stand for the night.

you buy the girls slushies then pile into the ferris wheel.

the sun is setting on the horizon, lighting up the little cart the four of you sit in. isha and jinx are chattering to themselves with their faces pressed against the glass, giving you and sevika some semblance of privacy on your little seat.

"you really had fun today?" sevika asks. you smile and nod.

"it was amazing. i love hearing you all laugh like that. especially you." you say.

sevika grins and swoops in to kiss you, just as your cart reaches the top of the wheel.

the girls 'ooh' and 'aah' and the height and the sights, and then they both groan when they turn around and find you two kissing.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion

[thicctails]

I need more info on the get better children au, especially about when Bill shows up.

*rubs hands together* I finally got some extra time to draw up some new art for this AU, so let's give it some substance >:3 Long post below the read more with extra art :D

Before Euclydia was destroyed, Euclid and Scalene Cipher were some of its most powerful members. Bill saying that everyone loved him as a baby was true for a time; children aren't born very often, and the Ciphers are considered to almost be royalty. It wasn't until Bill's mutation became apparent that people began to shun him. If he had been born to any other family, he likely would have been abandoned.

Though neither Euclid nor Scalene could really comprehend the concept of something being "up", let alone what "stars" could possibly be, both of them used their status to try and find any scrap of forbidden information, hoping that they could find an answer, could find some confirmation that their son wasn't crazy, and didn't need to be blinded by his "medicine."

It was this research that eventually saved their lives. Having the knowledge that it was possible for things to, hypothetically, exist in a three dimensional plane allowed them to pool their powers and create 3D forms for themselves when Euclydia began to burn, pulling themselves off the 2D plane like a sticker being peeled off a page. It wasn't a smooth transition in the slightest, and the flames managed to damage parts of their bodies before they managed to fully free themselves. The rest of their power went into escaping their collapsing reality, and when all was said and done, they were left near catatonic and floating in the space between time and space for many, many years.

They don't really start to recover until a certain frilly guy upstairs nudges them into a new, stable dimension. This one is almost entirely 3D, and inhabited by creatures that look completely alien to the Euclydians. Creatures called humans.

They meet Dipper and Mabel not long after, and the two triangles attach themselves to the babies, doing their best to care for them in their weakened states when their young, unprepared parents fail to be adequate caretakers. Being 2D is far easier for them, so they stick to the walls like shadows and find ways to speak to the twins, slipping into videos and pictures, music and books, their forms changing slightly to match whatever media they slipped into. They teach Dipper and Mabel their colours, shapes, ABC's, ect, comfort them when they get sad or scared, and once they're old enough, how to do basic things like getting themselves food and water when they get left alone too long.

Neither Pines parent really notices their children making grabby hands and babbling at open air at first, though they do become a bit concerned when years pass and they still stare at walls and empty corners like there's something there.

Eventually, as we all know, the Pines twins get shipped off to a sleepy town in Oregon, and Euclid and Scalene are, of course, coming along to watch over their little stars. However, they become deeply uncomfortable when they start to see visages of their son carved into every room of the twin's temporary home.

It doesn't take long for the show's antics to start, but Grunkle Stan gets involved in the twins adventures far earlier because during The Inconveniecing, Euclid uses his ability to manipulate televisions to play one of those old PSA's on loop until he gets spooked enough to actually check on the twins, only to find them missing.

Eventually, through the help of Scalene using a radio to drag up an old advert for the Dusk 2 Dawn, he figures out where they are and arrives just in time to see the tail end of their ghostly encounter. Unable to deny his knowledge of Gravity Falls' weirdness, he and the twins have their Season 1 finale talk that night, and Dipper shows Stan Journal 3, which leads to all three of them searching for Journal 2 (Stan doesn't reveal the portal yet)

Bill gets summoned by Gideon like in Canon, but things veer wildly off course when, upon entering Stan's mind, Mabel asks him if he knows Euclid or Scalene. He freezes up upon hearing the names of his parents, and he immediately calls off the deal with Gideon, ripping himself out of Stan's Dreamscape. Before he can process what happened, he comes face to face with someone he's only seen in daymares for the past trillion years

Bill dips the fuck out once he realizes he's not hallucinating, disappearing to Axolotl knows where to do fun, productive things such as: scream, cry, break shit, sob on the floor, drink until the teeth in his eye ache, stare at the space between stars for days on end, and interrogate every single one of his henchmaniacs to see if they spiked his drink.

Mans has absolutely zero clue on how to navigate this situation, eventually settling on stalking the Pines because he genuinely cannot think of any possible way to approach his (apparently alive????) parents. How do you go about atoning for the extinction of your entire species?

Bill Cipher has never been one to do things for others for any other reason than to get something back, but he figures the best place to start is by protecting these fleshy human young that his parents seem so attached to.

Wait, would that make them siblings? Axolotl, he sure hopes not.

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

keeping score by: arcanaphora "after getting dumped, buck is left with two tickets to a weeklong cruise. eddie steps in to support a friend in need, but complications arise when his friend becomes his fake husband. all's fair in love, war, and trivia" word count: 23k important tags: cruise ships, fake marriage, mutual pining, gay disaster!eddie diaz, first kiss, making out 'cause we belong together now by: smilingbuckley "on a call, buck and eddie meet an adorable little girl that they fall in love with and want to adopt. the only problem? they're not together romantically..." word count: 68k important tags: kid fic, marriage of convenience, slow burn, friends to lovers, getting together, soft!buddie, miscommunication burn the straw house down by: rarakiplin "buck gets stuck in time, has a break down and then, relatedly, a break through" word count: 40k important tags: time loop, angst, car accidents, happy ending all i can see (is you) by: trippedandfell "buck and eddie agree to fake date to win a reality tv show. it goes... well, pretty much exactly how you'd expect." word count: 21k important tags: reality show au, mutual pining, idiots in love, only one bed, gay disaster!eddie diaz for a holiday (and forevermore) by: wikiangela "eddie's sick of personal, intrusive questions about his love life whenever he visits his family, so he starts bringing buck for the holidays as his (fake) boyfriend. he only wants to shut them up, and doesn't expect that the small crush he has on his best friend could actually turn into something more..." word count: 94k important tags: slow burn, friends to lovers, sharing a bed, pre-relationship, soft!buddie, family feels, fluff, pining little lies by: david3096 "chris tells a lie at school and now eddie and buck must give a talk about love and work pretending to be fiances." word count: 62k important tags: idiots in love, mutual pining, christopher diaz is a national treasure, fluff you and tequila make me crazy by: cranberrymoons "in which buck and eddie lose chimney because they're drunk and horny" word count: 1.5k important tags: drunken flirting, season 7, sexual tension, pre-relationship fireflies where my caution should be by: littlesnowpea ".....“there are people on the porch,” eddie says, voice even. “saying they want to meet their grandchild.”" word count: 13k important tags: TW: past child abuse, fake marriage, hurt!evan buckley, emotional hurt/comfort, self-esteem issues, protective!eddie diaz what if i fall in love backwards by: redridingstiles "five times buck and eddie saved each other by pretending to be together and the one time christopher helps" word count: 9.8k important tags: 5+1 things, best friends, protective!buddie, teasing, homophobia, marriage proposal i'd never let you fall and break your heart by: autistic_nightfury "four times buck and eddie pretended to be in a relationship so people wouldn't bother them, and the one time they actually were together" word count: 5.8k important tags: 4+1 things, friends to lovers, holding hands, forehead kissies, getting together, mild smut

[artemisiasmuse]

always known | CH.3

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 3k

MASTERLIST

< previous next >

rafe realizes he may have made a mistake when he overhears you and sarah arguing at a party. he’s walking past the room you two are in and the door is slightly open. it’s not entirely his fault your raised voice stuns him, you sound so hurt and his body goes into some sort of panic state from the sound alone. his feet feel heavy, unmovable, so he leans against the wall next to the door.

“sarah i can’t, the last time was so fucking awkward okay!” you can’t believe she’s actually suggesting you stay at tannyhill while your place gets fixed. your dishwasher, which you found out was from 1981, had broken and caused your place to flood. the repair company said it would take at least a couple of weeks, not to mention the headache of replacing your furniture. you even had to get ready in the car with plastic bags of your clothes. thankfully since your room was on the second floor your clothes and important belongings were unharmed but there was no way you could stay there with the ground floor being unusable. you planned to book a hotel or crash at one of your OBU friend’s dorms when sarah cameron swooped in to save you. at least she thought she was saving you, but here you were feeling nauseous from her suggestion.

“he doesn’t hate you, come on, that's crazy, and besides it's my house too he doesn’t decide who goes in and out. rose and dad adore you, they’d love to-“ he flinched at sarah’s words, so this was about him. that’s why you were so angry. he hadn’t heard you angry since the last party, it was still far better than your sadness. he hadn’t seen you much since the bar burger thing and it was for the best, you had seemed happy with your new friends and he didn’t want to ruin that. topper and kelce managed to keep him in the loop even if he didn’t ask about it, mentioning that you had arrived with your friends. rafe might not be talking to you but it was an impossible task to ignore you. the black mini skirt and plain grey crop top you were wearing might as well have been a wedding dress in his eyes. there was no other girl in the party, in all of outer banks, the whole world, he’d rather look at even for a few seconds. his absence in your life was a good thing right? then why did he feel like breaking down the door between you two from the sound of you in distress.

“please sarah i can’t-“ and he hears your voice crack and then the small sobs that follow it, the solo cup in his hand crunches. he wants to so badly go in and beg you to stop crying. he knows he doesn’t deserve to hear this but he still can’t move, his stomach twists at the sound of your broken breathing, it takes him back to when you would cry in his arms and he would hug you until you stopped. now he can’t even approach you and it’s all his fault. his eyes sting with unshed tears, he wills them away.

“i should beat rafe’s ass” rafe thinks that’s the best thing sarah has said in a while. you panic at the statement, wiping your tears. you couldn’t stand to break this illusion of ignorance between you two. you’d been stealing glances at him all night, even your college friends had deduced that the “hot blonde buzzcut” was off limits. you didn’t correct them, only saying that it was complicated and you hadn’t even spoken to him but he looked better for it.

“no, don’t say anything to him, i just need to get used to it s’all. we used to be best friends ya know, i loved him so much, i mean i still do but sometimes i don’t know if he even remembers me.” you can’t pretend in front of sarah, not when you see his face in hers. her brown eyes stare into yours, they’re not the shade that you’re used to. it’s always like this. you get a bit drunk and you start looking for the closest thing in the eyes of others. that’s how you ended up with your two exes, ultimately realizing the shade would never be close enough.

even now you wonder if rafe’s okay, if he’s doing better now that you’re out of his life again. he looked so uncomfortable with you around and seeing him now still makes you feel horrible but you can tell he’s happier. you can’t help the tears that keep streaming. rafe flinches at your words, hearing you say that you love him is breaking his heart and he clenches his hand by his side. it’s a privilege to be loved by you, even if it’s not the way he wants.

“you’re kinda impossible to forget.” rafe takes it back, that’s the best thing sarah said. how could he possibly forget you? you were itched into his bones, your initials tattooed on his heart, even in his dreams you haunted him. he goes to sleep looking at the framed photo of you two in kindergarten and wakes up to the one of you in middle school, looking shy and slightly goofy in your formal wear for the school dance. and he could’ve removed them, rose had even suggested it, but that just felt wrong. much like the distance between you two right now.

“thanks sare love you.” he could hear your voice muffled, sarah hugged you close.

“love you too, now stop messing up your makeup, you're too pretty to cry over him.” with that he took his drink back to the kitchen and replaced it with something harder.

rafe nearly faints when he sees you in his kitchen the next morning. he thinks he might have discovered some new level of drunk that makes you hallucinate. you’re clearly hungover too, your eyes barely open as you trudge around. clad in an oversized shirt and gym shorts that look like they might be from high school, you’re entirely too endearing to be real. when you see him you mumble something about sarah saying it was fine. he knows it’s fine, he actually thinks seeing you back in the house is the most fine he’s ever felt in years. you’re looking for something he notices, unsuccessful in your search. he curiously watches on, unbelieving that after this long you’d know where things are.

“hey uhm where’s the cereal bowls? i swear they were over here before-“ and you’re right they were where you were standing, rafe shuts his eyes for a few beats to find some semblance of self control. when he opens them he’s looking away from you and grabbing a glass of water for the painkiller he desperately needs.

“next to the fridge.” he motions towards the cabinet on the left and you nod.

“that makes more sense.” rafe doesn’t tell you that wheezie had said the same thing before insisting the bowls be moved there.

“oh-“ your hands reach for a bowl but your gaze is captivated by the explosion of colors stark against uniform white bowls. it’s the bowl you and rafe painted together after pottery class, your initials engraved into it and your eyes water at the sight. your heart aches at how different your friendship is now compared to the love and respect gone into making the bowl only years ago. looking at it now the bowl is pretty hideous, none of the colors complement one another but somehow it makes sense.

“hey why are you-“ his voice plants you firmly back into reality, it doesn’t have the soft lilt it used to have, the one he reserved for you. it sounds almost angry. once again hard and distant and it jolts you back into obedience, grabbing a regular one and wiping at your eyes. rafe feels like he might throw up when he watches you physically flinch from his words. the thought that he scared you of all people made what little resolve he had left crumble. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who insisted he wasn’t the monster rose thought he was, that ward was a terrible father for how he treated you. you couldn’t be scared of him, you were the only one. now you flinched from his voice alone.

“i’m sorry.” you’re apologizing for something you’re not entirely sure of and rafe begins to hate himself. why couldn’t he be normal? why did he have this insatiable urge to make you his? all the anger and frustration he felt when you left was nothing in the face of seeing you cry because of him. and it’s the second time it’s happening in the span of twenty-four hours.

“come here.” you look up shocked and find him with an arm outstretched to pull you into his side. his expression is cracking like yours, his brows drawn together and his head hung low, he looks almost apologetic. you’re so shocked you think you might be dreaming so you don’t hold back. you loop your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest breathing in his scent and relishing in the warmth while you can. you’re sure you’ll wake up soon but the scent of his detergent and something that’s just him is starting to seem real. rafe breathes out in relief as he hugs you back properly and he can feel tears against his chest. at least now he can comfort you, if he hugs you long enough you’ll stop right?

“i’m sorry.” you say it again, rafe clicks his tongue at your words, they’re muffled and said into his chest but he hears them still. you’re so small in his arms now, curves and soft skin make you feel fragile in his hold and he curls around you protectively, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as his arms hold your upper back.

“why are you apologizing?” his voice is softer now and murmured into your ear and you cry more, your heart breaking at the sound. the edge dulled, if he cuts you now it will be worse, you won’t survive it. he feels you shake in his arms and he tightens them instinctively, you might just hold your breath until the illusion shatters. until he leaves you.

“i don’t know, i feel like i must have done something wrong for you to be mad at me.” the admission breaks you in two, you’d been holding onto it for years, the guilt of wronging your best friend, the frustration of not knowing what you did. you clutch the worn cotton of his shirt, the fabric presses against your fingertips like it might just be real.

“you’re forgiven, you've always been forgiven, i'm just mad at myself.” the words are a relief and a burden, you hate that he blames himself, for what you’re not entirely sure but you don’t press him, you have him in your arms that is enough for now. rafe doesn’t miss the way your hands are still clenching around the material of his shirt, but you let go. you let it all go. in the face of losing him forever you let a lot of things go, you’ll be his friend forever if that’s what it takes.

“that makes zero sense, rafey.” there’s the nickname, the one you called him hundreds of times maybe even more. your voice devoid of sadness, he can hear the teasing in your tone and its familiar, welcome. he breathes out in relief when he hears it and it still lights a fire within him just like the first time you said it and he realized you might just be more than a friend. you feel the breath on the shell of your ear, this isn’t a dream but maybe you should keep pretending it is. you lean back to look at him, hands falling to your sides and he releases you, his own hands resting on your waist instead. you don’t move away, you let him and he nearly cries himself.

“yeah i know.” a small smile curls his lips and you return it tenfold, a grin taking over your face. rafe decides he’d do anything to keep you smiling instead of crying over him.

after that you and rafe slowly fall back into friendship, he helps you clean up your place and move out any damaged furniture. you get to know him again and he does the same, he hasn’t changed much. he still has this hard exterior for everyone else, one that he sheds for a select few but you know him. you know he’s still the little boy who would stop everyone’s game of tag to tie your shoelaces or sneak out and run to your place after you texted him that your parents were arguing again and you couldn’t stop crying just so he could hold you through it. ward still underestimates him and at the same time expects too much and rose still pretends he’ll leave soon enough so she can continue ignoring him.

there is a slight change to one thing though, your rafe is now absurdly, annoyingly hot. sure you’d had a crush on him in middle school, maybe even a bit more than that but you had never considered him hot. now he’s a man and when he acts like one it sends your system into shock. for instance, he carried your couch out by himself, arms straining and glistening with sweat, making you feel a bit dizzy, you blamed it on the heat and made him set it down for you to sit on, just so you didn’t have something to stare at. that didn’t work since he dragged the couch with you on it. or then when a waiter got your order wrong and proceeded to tell you that you must have misspoken, refusing to take the blame. rafe quickly shut it down asking him to remake the dish, in a way only he could without any room for arguing. you could have handled it yourself, maybe you would have been nicer about it, but knowing that you didn’t have to, that rafe would take care of it made something coil in your stomach. one time he even dropped you to class just as an excuse to get coffee with you. he’d told you to have a good day in a way that stunned you into silence. the image of him leaning over the console to open the door for you and watching you climb out had you zoned out for half of the class. you were starting to grow attached to him in a different way, something less pure and innocent than what you had always known. the fact that your place was still being restored and you were a few steps away from him every night didn’t help either.

staying at tannyhill had its pros and cons. the pros being obvious, 24/7 unfettered access to your best friend and your favorite siblings. the cons being the parents of said siblings. rose was as nice as she could be, she never fully understood your friendship with rafe and you didn’t need her to. ward, however, was unfortunately unchanged. he was out of the house most days working and when you finally did meet he made sure you knew that he was still an asshole.

“hey kiddo look at you, all grown up into a beautiful young lady! i am so happy you’re back, im sorry for not greeting you earlier. work has been keeping me out late” he gives you a warm side-hug that you accept graciously. he’d always been kind to you, rafe was the troublemaker of your duo anyways so he never had any reason to be otherwise. but you knew all the things he said to rafe, you knew how he treated him from the very beginning, so you could never really open up your heart to ward cameron. especially not when he was good at acting the perfect father in your face.

“it’s no problem ward, thank you for your hospitality.” you did mean that last part even if you didn’t particularly like him. your parents also seemed to get along with him so spoiling any kind of relationship wouldn’t help you.

“oh come on tannyhill is your home too you know that, rafe really needed you back here too. how are your folks doing?” you bristle at his words, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him. you’d forgotten how casually he disparaged your best friend.

“they’re doing well, they send their best wishes and love.” your words came out automatically, your mind on autopilot. you had to say something but the fear of disappointing your parents loomed over your head. ward knew you, he knew you would never fall out of line as long as he knew your parents.

“i’ll reach out to your father, it’s been a while since we caught up.” a silent threat, you nodded at his words turning to leave. there was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded in your chest, it screamed for you to stick up for rafe but your head relented. you were almost out of earshot of ward when you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“ward?” you called out, making sure he was still able to talk.

“yes sweetie?” his head turned toward you, warmth in his eyes. you supposed he must see the little girl who walked home with rafe hand-in-hand. you do hope he can take you seriously.

“rafe doesn’t need me, i think he just needs love and support. he’s been doing fine without me.” ward couldn’t tell you just how wrong you were. he could however parse the subtle jab sent his way.

“you were always wise beyond your years.” he says it with that smug smile you can’t read and leaves first. you’ll tell yourself you won this round but really there were no winners only one person who was losing.

rafe is none the wiser to your conversation which you take as a plus, you’d worried ward would reprimand him for what you said. you don’t talk about ward though it was never your favorite topic anyways. and you don’t talk about the five year gap, even though it keeps you up some nights.

a/n: war is over 🙏 i’m too much a softie to continue the angst + there’s only a few chaps left and we have to get freaky!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk

[enviedear]

my modern!jace hcs and thoughts…

request ⊹ jacaerys masterlist

౨ৎ ┄───────╮ got a bit carried away with what was supposed to be hcs... but i can't help it! modern!jace scratches an itch somewhere in my brain—especially lawyer/law student!jace. don't question the family dynamics too much for this au. i don't have the brain capacity to rearrange and fix that mess <3

╰───────┄ ౨ৎ

twenty-two and a recent graduate. he majored in law with a minor in public policy. his younger brother, lucerys, makes frequent comments about how boring it all must be, but jacaerys velaryon loves it. he’s following the family line, after all.

he took office at one of his mother’s law firms, a by-product of having a family in the affairs of state. however, the firm is actually headed by his mother’s aunt, rhaenys. his mother, rhaenyra is in the middle of an election, running opposite otto hightower—a man jacaerys is lax to admit kinship to.

on paper he’s an associate, in practice, he’s whatever his family and their board need him to be. he likes it that way—being dependable.

he has such a large family, even disregarding those somewhat estranged. if you asked him to directly place everyone to their respective titles he couldn’t, so he settles for the ease of endless uncles, aunts, and cousins.

his schedule is usually packed—so when he is free, he likes to spend his time well. his best friend, cregan, gets him out of the house most the time. an easy task since the stark family owns numerous ski resorts. a perfect respite from his life of public service, at least that’s what cregan says.

jace absolutely hates the media, not necessarily social media though. his instagram stories are frequently full of reposts or camera roll dumps, his twitter constantly active but he mourns public likes. he loves to engage with factitious headlines about himself and his family, to his mother’s chagrin. he’s blocked on all social media by the estranged hightower news, headed by his mother’s old friend turned step-mother, alicent. a topic the family attempts to gloss over when in public.

has a laundry list of fashion houses at his disposal. he went viral once for “mogging” in armani at his grandfather’s funeral. he drunkenly admitted after the service that he figured viserys would have deemed it a rather lovely suit, despite the occasion. mostly, he shares his uncle laenor’s love for couture, a man who is firm in belief that a bit of pageantry never hurt anyone. almost exclusively wears canali for everyday wear, a luxury his paychecks find no issue with fulfilling.

listens to every single book he 'reads'. his airpods are constantly in his ears but he rarely opts for music. he listens to the greats on repeat, or at least that's what he calls them—near constant loops of orwell and machiavelli. he has a guilty pleasure for brandon sanderson novels though.

jacaerys is embarrassed to have a chauffeur for any and all events with his family, but he does an excellent job at hiding it. he’s is chronically good at masking any signs of disdain. his family would tell you he’s perfectly agreeable— his brothers, lucerys and joffrey, know him better, can spot his muddled ill temper through anything. he can hold his tongue most of the time, far better than the rest of his family, but he’s known to have his moments.

on his own, he drives a aston martin valour. wrapped olive green with burnt orange accents. it was pricey, a fact his uncle corlys never ceases to remind him of, but he loves it. gave it a name and everything—vermax.

the only cousins he talks to regularly are the twins, baela and rhaena. they flock together during board meetings, three ideal images of the pristine image their family attempts to portray. he and baela are most like minded, so much so that the rest of the board jokes they’re reading each others minds.

on the opposite end of the spectrum, alicent’s children— aegon, aemond, and helena, are of much different minds. the eldest of the them is prepped to take over his grandfather’s media empire. a complete disaster waiting to happen given aegon’s incessant and very public bad behavior. jace figures the young man more of a puppet if anything. the second born is somehow an even worse case, behavior less public but far more… sadistic. aemond is known in well to do social circles for his vitriol, mouth constantly fixed to land a cutting blow.

the youngest, helena, is actually quite sweet albeit heavily reclusive. she’s the founder of several successful ventures, thrust into the spotlight at a young age. these days the most the public get from her is a monthly blog update—refined and well crafted—detailing a mix of what she learned that month and a few run-on sentences about insects. but she always finds time for him at their disjointed family events, no matter the animosity in the room. she’s one of his favorite people to talk to. jace swears that somehow, she always knows just what to say.

on sunday’s he winds up at one of his uncle daemon’s golf courses. am agreement he took up after the death of viserys. his uncle is lonely without his brother, and he’s never had to tell jace that for him to know it. jace is rather shit at the sport, but he’s found that as long as daemon has a drink in his hand, nothing will be commented on. sometimes luke will tag along just to gloat, his younger brother has always been at golf.

every christmas he takes his siblings on a hunt. just like their dad, harwin, used to. it’s gotten to be a big deal after so many years. his mother often reminds him, jokingly, that he is the reason their home has become the holiday stomping grounds. he’s replied back many times that at least that saves them from the hightower’s grounds, and their brutish security detail. headed by one criston cole, he’s has never gotten a good feel for the man—or the men under his command.

jace can’t fall asleep without some form of auditory stimulation. he blames laenor, always gifting a young jace pirated lullaby cd’s… for some reason. nowadays, he’s usually a listening to a history podcast before bed. never picky on the topic or timeframe, he could listen to the tales of the past forever.

additionally—jacaerys loves linguistics. if you looked through his search history you’d find the following searches: why do we feel different when speaking in a different language? / are there languages with no numbers? / what happened to the transatlantic accent? / “where did the word ‘cocktail’ come from?

he has successfully created and maintained a masked dj persona after a drunken dare in ibiza from rhaena. he’s booked a handful of gigs, all without his name attached to it. rhaena keeps it a secret, at the promise she gets to accompany him at her own whim.

jace has only ever publicly has had one relationship. he dated cregan’s half-sister for a few years, sara. sure he had to deal with his best friends griping for a few years, but he really did love the girl. they broke up due to their schedules, moreso, his schedule. he promised baela he won’t make the same mistake in his next relationship.

he never has trouble finding people to fawn over him, but he does have a horrible issue with committing. not that he wants to play the field or hurt hearts, but he truly believes no one will ever give him the grace he needs to feel secure in the relationship. he feels like he already has too much baggage, carrying his own and his family’s. at this point, he’d rather have a few hookups as opposed to being let down—jacaerys hates that the most about himself, above all else.

that’s why he so confused as of late. unable to seem get his mind off of someone—something completely unaccustomed to him. you’re fresh at the firm, relegated to coffee runs and still straight to the book but god—jace thinks you're perfect.

he didn't even fully grasp his fixation on you until asking himself why on earth he keeps volunteering you to sit in on his client meetings. he almost shutters everytime he remembers the stupid excuse he forced out after you dared to ask him why—"i just write so slow, and i don't want to miss anything." a lie. jacaerys could tune out a client for an entire session and still win a case, but he determined early he'd rather bask in yout presence instead. however diluted he must keep his feelings...

[eyesoftheholder]

i wanna make an isat au where the party starts to loop with sif. but like, its different iterations of the party who remember different things

isat spoilers below, for like the entire game i’d say

Mirabelle is from the loop where Siffrin tried to reason with the King, only for Bonnie to almost get crushed. She likely knows the most about Siffrin’s deal.

Isabeau is from the loop where Sif does the family quests for the first time. So at the end of the loop he reached out for Siffrin’s hand only for it to reset. He’s doing ok I think.

Odile is from the first loop the family gets to the King and he takes them all out in one shot. She’s not doing well but is trying to at least seem composed enough to keep going.

Bonnie is from the very first loop where Siffrin was crushed by the rock. They do not was Siffrin to be around rocks anymore and specifically ask that Siffrin be protected when facing a rock sadness.

Anyways so all these different versions of Siffrin’s family are in the same loop. (Maybe play around with giving the family their own alt versions that appear in apparitions)

[seongwars]

strangers by nature | vi

Pairing: heir!Song Mingi x heir!Reader AU: non-idol | arranged marriage | enemies to lovers Genre: angst, humor, fluff in future chapters Rating: NC-17 Summary: After a life-altering car accident, Mingi is given one final shot at redemption—reborn as a fuzzy little puppy. To earn a second chance at life, he must complete three tasks or risk being doomed to the afterlife forever. Word Count: 6.6K Warnings: angst, character d*ath, attacks on animals, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of mental health, only half proofread, use of crude language

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a/n: it hurt me to write this chapter 😭

You weren’t particularly close to your father. His life revolved around his work—the family business he hadn’t wanted but had accepted out of obligation when your uncles, San and Jongho’s fathers, stepped aside, unwilling to subject their sons to the challenges of running a conglomerate.

Sometimes you wished he had done the same too. 

He was often away, traveling to meet clients or locked in endless board meetings. He wasn’t the type of man to swoop in with comforting words or a warm embrace. Instead, he listened without interrupting, nodded without judgment, and spoke only when he felt it was necessary. Despite the distance between you, his steady presence had a way of making you feel oddly secure.

And maybe that was why, as you paced the length of your penthouse, you found yourself dialing his number. Mingi followed your every move, his small body glued to your side. He kept glancing up at you, occasionally tripping you with how close he was.

“Come on, pick up, pick up…” You muttered to yourself. Your pacing carried you in a loop—through the kitchen, into the dining room you barely used, and then into the living room. Then, you wandered back into the kitchen, your footsteps quickening with every unanswered ring.

“Y/N?”

Your shoulders sagged in relief, and you stopped pacing, planting yourself in the middle of the kitchen as Mingi bumped up against your ankles. 

“Dad!”

“Is everything alright?”

You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the phone. How were you supposed to explain everything that had transpired the last few weeks without sounding unhinged? 

What were you even supposed to say? Hi, Dad. Quick question: Are you sure the woman you’re married to is actually my mother?

Your parents’ marriage had always seemed like a curious thing to you. It was a product of an arrangement. Yet, over the years, your father’s quiet gestures of affection seemed to keep your mother content, even happy.

Surely, he couldn’t have had an affair.

The idea felt absurd, but then again, you’d always felt like a stranger in your own home, an outsider looking in at a family that didn’t quite seem to know where you fit.

“I-I need to talk to you about something. I didn’t want to call mom because…you know how she gets.”

Your mother had a flair for theatrics, a tendency to turn even the smallest inconvenience into a grand production. If you’d called her instead, the situation would have escalated before you even finished explaining. 

“What’s going on?”

“I…” You faltered for a moment, running a hand through your hair before continuing your train of thought.

“There’s this woman who I think has been stalking me. A friend of mine was dogsitting Maro when she approached him at the park.” Your voice dropped slightly, recounting your conversation with Yeosang. 

“She recognized Maro…and referred to me as her daughter.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and you took a moment to crouch down and stroke Mingi’s fur as he leaned into your side. 

“I don’t know who she is,” you admitted softly. “But…something about her felt wrong. And it’s been bothering me ever since.”

“Did she hurt you or Maro?”

“No, but she tried to abduct a little girl a few weeks ago. We stopped her and she fled.”

“Y/N, I need you to listen to me carefully,” he said, his tone suddenly firm. 

You froze mid-step, his words rooting you in place. “Okay,” you said hesitantly, your voice small.

“I need you to stay put,” he continued. “Don’t do anything or go anywhere, especially not alone. I’m going to call the lawyers and have them review the court order and police files.”

“Court order?” you repeated, confusion rising in your chest. “What are you talking about?”

“Call either San or Jongho,” he said instead, his tone softening just enough to sound like a plea. 

“Let them know I’ve asked one of them to stay with you until we sort this out.”

“Dad, what court order?” you pressed, gripping the phone tighter as your heart raced. 

Mingi, sensing your distress, pawed at you insistently, his soft whines urging you to sit down. But you couldn’t move, couldn’t tear your focus away from the ominous edge in your father’s voice.

“There was an incident when you were three. If she is who I think she is, she’s someone we dealt with a long time ago.”

“Who?”

“Your former nanny,” he admitted, his voice steady but grim. “She tried to take you,” he said bluntly. 

“At first, she seemed fine. Kind, attentive, everything you’d want for a child. But things started escalating. Your mother noticed something was off right after she lost her own daughter in an accident. She’d grown too attached to you. Too possessive. We let her go, but before we could take any legal action, she attempted to abduct you.”

“She tried to kidnap me?”

“She managed to evade security at first. It was like any other day. But by the time we realized what was happening, she was already on her way to the airport with you.” 

The room spun, and before you realized it, you had sunk to the floor. The color drained from your face as the weight of the revelation hit you. Mingi froze, his small body going still as he struggled to process the gravity of what he was hearing.  

He let out a soft whine, curling closer to you. He hadn’t fully understood your fears, the reasons behind your walls, the way panic sometimes overtook you without warning.

Now, as a dog, powerless to do anything but sit beside you, the weight of guilt felt almost unbearable.

“We caught her in time,” he continued quickly, his tone shifting, as if trying to calm you. 

“She didn’t make it far. Security intercepted her at the gate just as she was preparing to board a flight. We filed charges immediately and she was arrested.”

“But?” you scoffed. “Your money and influence couldn’t keep her behind bars?”

“We didn’t think she’d ever get out, Y/N. The charges were serious, and the evidence was solid. At the time, we were assured she’d be locked away for decades.” He hesitated, and for a moment, you thought you heard his voice waver. 

“You were so young. We didn’t want to burden you with something you wouldn’t even remember. We thought we could protect you from it all.”

“So much for power,” you muttered bitterly, rubbing your temples. “She seems to be escalating. She’s openly trying to kidnap children now. Who knows what else she’s capable of?”

Your father’s sigh was heavy. “Which is why you’re not to go anywhere alone, Y/N. Not until this is resolved.”

“Dad—”

“I’ll be increasing the security presence around the penthouse as well. And before you ask, yes, I'll be coordinating with Mingi’s family to ensure their resources are aligned with ours.”

The mention of your in-laws made your stomach twist. They were probably unaware of the situation, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. You could already imagine your mother-in-law spinning the story to her social circle about her damsel of a daughter-in-law and how her poor son was unable to save her. The thought of being the centerpiece of their gossip left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

“Make sure there’s a secure presence at the hospital too,” you said, cutting in before the conversation could linger on your in-laws. 

“She might try something there.”

Your father arched a brow. He knew you didn’t particularly like being married to Mingi—he wasn’t blind to the strain in your relationship. Truthfully, he regretted agreeing to the arrangement in the first place. He’d witnessed firsthand the coldness with which Mingi had treated you, most notably the way he’d rebuffed your birthday gathering that first year of marriage. It had been a bitter reminder that not all alliances were worth the price they came with.

But upon hearing your request, it made him realize that you had always been kinder, and more compassionate than those around him. While he had always seemed distant, caught up in his own world of business and power, moments like these reminded him that you had grown into someone he was proud of. Someone who cared, even for those who didn’t deserve it.

“Is there anything else that you need?” he asked, his voice softer now.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “But I’m not going to live in fear forever. She doesn’t get to have that power over me.”

“I don’t expect you to. I just want you to be safe.”

The line disconnected and you set the phone down, your hand lingering on it for a moment before turning back to Mingi. You felt a surge of emotions–anger, frustration, fear, and a flicker of determination. 

But when you saw him sitting patiently on the floor, watching you intently with his big eyes, fluffy ears, and wrinkled nose, everything inside you softened. The weight of the world seemed to melt away in that moment, and your heart ached with affection. 

“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it,” you squealed, the intensity of your emotions spilling out in a completely unexpected way. 

Without thinking, you scooped him into your arms, pressing your face against his soft fur as you swayed back and forth with him. Mingi melted into your embrace, his small body going limp as he relished your warmth. 

“I just want to squish you!” you exclaimed, giggling as you kissed him between the ears. 

Mingi let out a soft, rumbling growl, not out of annoyance but because he didn’t know how else to respond to the flood of emotions washing over him. If only you knew how deeply he wanted to protect you, not just as a dog, but as the man who had failed to see your worth for far too long.

“I should probably text the group chat,” you murmured, reaching for your phone while balancing Mingi securely in your other arm.

[Y/N]: My dad said I can have a sleepover

[Grumpy Bear]: fuck yeah

[Mountain Mayne]: Can Kira come too?”

[Y/N]: Only Kira, you stay home

⋆

Mingi found himself scowling, scooped up in San’s arms, as the four of you lounged in your living room, covered in mountains of blankets, pillows, and snacks. He wasn’t sure how he’d ended up in this situation, but he was definitely not thrilled when your cousins and San’s fiancée came crashing into the penthouse after you summoned them with a single text.

“Why isn’t the dog distribution system working for us?” San asked, holding Mingi out toward Kira like he was some kind of offering. Mingi shot him a glare, but the effect was somewhat lost given his tiny size and the way his fur poofed up around his face.

“Because we already have three cats at home,” she replied, chomping on a piece of cheese without looking up from her phone. San sighed dramatically, pulling Mingi back to cradle him like a baby. 

“Don’t worry, Maro, I'll save you from your owner and her evil husband.”

Mingi bristled, his fur puffing out even more. He barked indignantly, but it only made San laugh as he nuzzled Mingi’s fluffy face.

“Yeah, if the evil husband ever wakes up,” Jongho snorted from under his fortress of blankets. 

The room fell silent, save for the faint sound of Howl’s Moving Castle playing in the background. Mingi froze, his small body tensing in San’s arms. His ears flattened against his head as Jongho’s words echoed in his mind. 

Sure, he hadn’t been a perfect husband. He wasn’t even sure he’d been a good one. But…evil?

“Oh come on, that’s not fair,” you replied, albeit with an edge to your tone. 

“What?” Jongho raised his hands defensively, his expression a mix of guilt and awkwardness. 

“It was a joke. I mean, come on, the guy cheated, publicly humiliated you… you can do so much better, Y/N.”

“I know a good divorce lawyer,” Kira added, waving her phone as if the solution to your problems was just a call away. 

The truth of their words clawed at Mingi, a painful reminder of everything he’d done wrong. He wanted to bark, to growl, to defend himself, but what could he even say? That they were wrong? They weren’t. Not completely.

You inhaled sharply, your lips pressing into a thin line as you plopped down next to San. He glanced at you, but you ignored it, your focus entirely on the small dog curled stiffly in his arms.

“I get it,” you said finally, your voice clipped as you reached out and gently plucked Maro out of your cousin’s arms. He went still in your hold, his small body tensing as he waited for what you’d say next.

“Mingi has his own problems, but right now, he doesn’t have anyone in his corner. I don’t know what will happen when he wakes up, but it’s not fair to say things like that when he’s not here.” You cradled him closer, your touch instinctively protective as if shielding him from their judgement. 

Jongho exhaled loudly, his earlier confidence deflating as he sank deeper into the pile of blankets. “Fair point,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. That was out of line.”

Mingi stayed silent, nestled in your arms, his mind racing. You could have left him at the hospital. You could have walked away, started over. Hell, maybe you should have. You could have even entertained the thought of dating Seonghwa, or Yeosang, or anyone else. Anyone but him.

But you hadn’t.

You spent countless nights in that hospital room, talking to him, even when he couldn’t say anything back. You stood up for him, even now, when he didn’t deserve it.

Mingi could picture it so clearly: someone else making you laugh, someone else holding your hand, someone else seeing the best parts of you. 

Maybe they were right, he thought bitterly. Maybe you really could do better. 

But even if that was true, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. Not when there was still a sliver of hope that he might wake up, make amends, and find a way back to being the man you once believed he could be.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you announced, rising to your feet with an exaggerated stretch. “It’s way past bedtime.”

“I’ll stay here,” San declared. “In case your stalker tries anything.”

“Good for you, honey,” Kira patted his shoulder. “But I’m going into one of the guest rooms because that’s what sane people do.”

“You’ve got this covered,” Jongho muttered sleepily, dragging himself out of the blanket pile. He stretched with a loud yawn and shuffled toward his room without even waiting for a reply.

“We’re supposed to be in this together,” San grumbled, throwing a pillow halfheartedly at Jongho’s retreating figure. It missed by a wide margin, flopping harmlessly to the floor.

As you slipped into your room, the shift was immediate. The air turned quiet and soft, a reprieve from the playful chaos outside. You closed the door gently and set Mingi down on the bed, his fluffy body sinking into the plush comforter.

He sat perfectly still, watching you move around the room. You pulled back the covers on your side of the bed and fluffed the pillows before finally settling in.

Patting the space beside you, you called softly, “Time for bed.”

He padded over, his small paws making barely a sound as he climbed onto the blankets and curled up near your side. When he tucked his nose into the crook of your neck, you giggled.

“I love you. Night night, puppy,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, Mingi stayed awake, tracing the gentle slope of your nose to the soft curve of your lips. It all seemed so fleeting, like everything could slip away in the blink of an eye. 

He sighed softly, rolling onto his back and then to his side again, unable to find a comfortable position. San’s snores rumbled faintly through the door, a reminder of the others nearby. But Mingi’s mind was too restless to relax.

His mind drifted to his last task: What did it mean to offer you happiness without expecting anything in return?

Isn’t it about giving you what you wanted? Protecting you, making you laugh, or ensuring you were never alone? But the more he thought about it, the more complicated it became.

How could he possibly give you that when so much of his past had been spent hurting you?

He remembered the times he’d chosen his own pride over your feelings, the cruel words he couldn’t take back, the moments he’d walked away when you needed him most. He had made you feel small, like you were the one who didn’t belong, the one who wasn’t good enough for him, all while he continued living his life while you were left to pick up the pieces of your own. 

“You’re home all the time, don’t you have any friends?”

Your response had been blunt, cold, almost dismissive. 

“No, they’re dead.”

That was all you said to him. No explanation, just a heavy finality that left him speechless. He didn’t know what it meant then, but now, looking back, it felt like a confession, a glimpse into a part of you that was buried beneath the walls you’d built to protect yourself after losing Hongjoong.  

Kim Hongjoong, the ghost of a man who had never left your heart. The man who had held a place there long before Mingi had even existed in your life. And in that moment, jealousy crept in. It was sharp, bitter, the thought of losing you to a ghost threatening to consume him.

He hated that Hongjoong would always carry that piece of your heart he couldn’t touch, a piece that belonged to someone who had once been your everything. Because in this moment, Mingi, more than anything, coveted that place in your heart. 

No matter how much he tried to remind himself that he was here, that he was now, it didn’t quell the sense of inadequacy growing within him. He couldn’t love you with the expectation of erasing your past or taking what wasn’t his to have.

If he was to prove himself, to earn his humanity, it couldn’t be about him. It had to come from a place of selflessness. He had to love you for who you were, even if it meant living in the shadow of a ghost. Even if it meant never being able to fully claim a place in your heart.

Even if it might mean accepting that some parts of you could never belong to him, no matter how much he wanted them to. And as painful as that truth was, Mingi knew it was the only way forward.

He nestled into your side, his fluffy form fitting snugly against you as he placed a paw against your nose. The steady rise and fall of your chest soothed him, reminding him that he was yours, even if it was only as Maro. 

“I’m so bored,” you groaned, hanging your head over the back of the couch dramatically. The ceiling wasn’t particularly interesting, but you were so desperate for stimulation that you started counting the corners of the crown molding.

Kira glanced over from the kitchen, her brow furrowing in concentration as she whisked a bowl of batter with a bit too much vigor. 

“You should try being useful. Come help me bake.”

“I’d rather be anywhere but here,” you muttered, sliding further down the couch until you were almost horizontal. “I’ve seen every corner of this penthouse.” 

“Drama queen,” she said lightly. “You’re safe here. That’s what matters. And besides, I thought you’d enjoy the time off.”

“Time off from what?”

“I don’t know? The hospital? The back and forth must be draining.”

You hummed in response, though that was all you could muster. Draining wasn’t quite the word for it. It was true the days spent at the hospital had a way of blurring together, but you didn’t mind staying there. In some strange way, it felt right.

At the hospital, you had a routine. You’d arrive in the evening, lay on the sofa and stare out into nothingness. Sometimes you’d read, talk to him about trivial things, or just sit quietly, the hum of the monitors filling the silence. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A way to show him that he wasn’t alone, even if he couldn’t respond.

Because deep down, you knew he needed someone on his side.

It wasn’t easy to admit, even to yourself, but a part of you still held out hope for reconciliation. Not the fairytale kind, where everything magically resolved and all wounds were healed, but something quieter. A mutual understanding, perhaps. A moment where he’d open up, even just a little, and let you see the person behind all the walls he’d built.

You knew he was hurting. You’d always known, even when he tried to mask it with anger or indifference. His actions, the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks, were all symptoms of something deeper.  

But there was another part of you, a quieter voice that you couldn’t ignore. The part that braced for no change at all. That prepared for the possibility that when, if, he woke up, he’d still be the same person he was before. That he’d still look at you like you were the problem, the obstacle, the thing standing in the way of his happiness.

That part of you longed for freedom.

You’d spent so much time tangled up in his chaos, in his pain, that you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to just...be.

Maybe, if and when he woke up, he’d be willing to part ways. And maybe that would be for the best.

“I ran out of eggs!”

You blinked, momentarily disoriented. “What?”

“Eggs!” she repeated, holding up the empty carton. “I can’t believe I forgot them. I’m halfway through making this cake, and now I have to stop everything to run to the store.”

“I’ll go with you!” you said quickly, standing up from the couch so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Kira froze, narrowing her eyes at you. “You know you’re not supposed to leave.”

“And you’re supposed to be at the courthouse, but here you are, baking a cake for a man.”

“First of all, it’s called paid time off,” she replied, narrowing her eyes further. “Secondly, San’s stroke game is top tier.”

“Oh my God, stop!” you cut her off, throwing your hands up. 

“I do not want to hear about your sex life with my cousin. He used to eat mud as a kid.”

Kira rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. “Anyway,” she continued, “your dad would absolutely kill me. He gave strict orders to keep you here. And unlike you, I actually follow them.”

“Come on, Kira,” you pleaded. Your eyes landed on Maro, lounging nearby. You scooped him up in one swift motion, holding him up like a fluffy shield. 

“Even Maro thinks it’s a good idea!”

Mingi tilted his head, his dark eyes widening as he gave Kira his best impression of a sad, helpless puppy.

“Look at him. He’s begging you.”

Kira groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “This is ridiculous.”

“It’s a quick trip. Five minutes, tops,” you promised, your tone bordering on desperate. “I won’t go anywhere, I’ll stay by your side the entire time!”

She sighed, clearly wavering. “Fine.”

The ding of the store’s bell announced your arrival, and the comforting smell of fried food from the deli counter made your stomach grumble. Kira grabbed a basket, striding purposefully toward the back where the eggs were stashed.

“Eggs,” she said firmly, shooting you a warning glance over her shoulder.

“Got it,” you replied, though your eyes immediately wandered to the chip aisle.

The small store was quiet, almost unnervingly still, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you. As you followed Kira, your gaze flicked around the store—a habit you’d picked up recently without fully realizing it. Your shoulders tensed, the faint prickling sensation at the back of your neck making you feel exposed. It was probably nothing, you told yourself, trying to brush it off.

Kira tossed a carton of eggs into the basket and turned to you with a raised brow. “Anything else?”

Her voice startled you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before grabbing a bag of chips from a nearby rack and a pack of chocolate-covered pretzels from the next shelf over.

“Alright, ready!” you chirped. 

The cashier rang up your items without much fuss, and soon you were both on your way. But as the store door clicked shut behind you, that sense of discomfort returned. You glanced over your shoulder, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden motion might draw unwanted attention.

Your eyes darted to the empty street ahead, scanning the familiar buildings and darkened windows. It looked deserted, but the nagging feeling told you otherwise.

“You okay?” Kira asked, noticing your hesitation.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, the word tumbling out a little too fast. You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. 

You told yourself it was nothing, a stray thought feeding your paranoia. But as you turned the corner toward your apartment, your worst fears materialized. A shadow detached itself from the side of a building ahead, stepping into the weak glow of the nearest streetlamp. Your stomach dropped, and your chest tightened when you noticed the glint of the knife in hand. 

“Y/N.”

Your stalker. Your former nanny. 

Kira froze beside you, her posture immediately tense. Her free hand twitched toward her phone, but her other gripped your arm tightly, as if anchoring you in place. You shook her off with a small, almost imperceptible gesture, your lips moving silently to form the words: Call San.

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t argue. She stepped back, her movements careful as she pulled her phone from her pocket.

“Hey…mom,” you said, your voice trembling but just steady enough to hold its own. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but it was all you could think of to buy yourself time.

The woman’s head tilted, her expression softening into something disturbingly tender. “Oh, my sweet Y/N,” she cooed, taking a step closer. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long,” she continued. “You’ve grown so much. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

The delusion in her voice sent ice down your spine. She didn’t just see you as a person. You were a possession—something she believed she owned.

“It’s been a while,” you said cautiously, keeping your tone light, though your hands trembled at your sides. 

“What…what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to take you home!”

“Right…home,” you repeated, your stomach churning at the word. You took a step back, careful to keep your movements slow and nonthreatening. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk and catch up? I just ate, and walking helps with digestion. Did you know that?”

The woman blinked, her head tilting further to the side. For a moment, she seemed caught off guard by the suggestion.

“A walk?” she echoed, suspicion flickering across her face before fading into hesitant curiosity. “You want to spend time with me?”

You nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “O-Of course! I mean, it’s been so long, right? We have so much to talk about.”

Behind you, Kira moved as quietly as possible, her phone pressed to her ear as she whispered into the receiver. The nanny walked ahead, still clutching the knife tightly in her hand as your figures disappeared into the darkness.

⋆

Mingi paced restlessly around the penthouse, his claws clicking softly against the floor. His tail flicked with agitation, and his ears twitched, straining to catch a sound that wasn’t there. Something felt wrong—deeply, inexplicably wrong. You were only supposed to be gone with Kira for five  minutes. 

But those five minutes had turned to an hour. 

The door to the penthouse slammed open, and Jongho burst inside, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. His face was pale and his brow furrowed deeply as he listened to the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I’m here now,” he said hurriedly, his tone clipped and tense. Mingi froze mid-step, his ears flicking forward as Jongho’s words sank in. Looking for you? His heart dropped. Did something happen to you?

“I’ll stay here in case she comes back. Yes, San and Kira are out looking for her along with law enforcement.”

Mingi’s nose twitched, catching the faint remnants of Jongho’s scent. There was something else mingled with it—the sharp tang of fear. A shiver ran down his spine. Jongho wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.

In his frenzy, Jongho forgot to shut the door completely. It clicked behind him, but the latch didn’t catch, leaving it slightly ajar as he retreated further into the penthouse. 

Mingi knew you were most definitely scared, but were relying on your wit to keep your abductor as distracted for as long as possible. But it could only go so far. You needed help. You needed him.

He darted after Jongho, letting out a short, sharp yip that made him turn with a frown.

“Maro?” Jongho’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

Mingi barked again, more insistent this time. He jumped in place, then headbutted Jongho's leg with surprising force, urging him toward the hallway. When Jongho still didn’t move, Mingi let out a sharp yip, trotted to the door, and paused to bark over his shoulder. Come on, follow me!

Out in the hallway, Mingi’s incessant barking continued until Jongho relented, reaching out to push the call button for the elevator. 

Jongho stared down at the little dog, confusion etched across his face. “Why are you so interested in the elevator?” 

Mingi stayed silent in an attempt to get this timing right. Then, as soon as the doors began to close, he darted forward, squeezing inside at the last second. Jongho blinked, momentarily stunned, before the realization hit him.

“I just…got played by a dog.”

Outside, Mingi paused just long enough to pick up your scent on the breeze. Darting forward, Mingi weaved through the bustling crowd, his small frame slipping unnoticed between legs and around obstacles. His nose twitched, staying locked on the trail, as he took off into the night with the promise of finding you

“I’m coming,” he whispered under his breath, to keep himself moving. His legs burned, and his lungs ached, but he didn’t stop.

Your nanny stood a few feet away, as you guided her to a nearby park. Her body taut with a kind of unnatural stillness. Her expression was deceptively calm, but her eyes gleamed with something unhinged.

“How have you been? You’re married right? I see the ring on your finger.”

Your fingers twitched involuntarily, brushing against the cool platinum of your wedding band. It felt heavier than usual under her scrutinizing gaze. “I am,” you replied, keeping your tone calm and steady despite the way your stomach churned.

“Almost three years now.”

“Three years? That’s wonderful. What’s your husband like? Oh, I’d love to meet him!”

“Unfortunately, he’s on a business trip overseas. B-But when he comes back, maybe we could have dinner.”

Her smile stretched impossibly wider, her eyes glinting with a strange light as she clasped her hands together. “Dinner? Oh, how wonderful! Just like old times!”

“Y-Yeah, just like old times. You, me, um, Mingi and…dad.”

“Dad?” she echoed, her voice hollow and strained. “Your father?”

The moment the word "Dad" left your lips, her expression darkened and her grip on the knife tightened, turning her knuckles white as the blade trembled in her hand.

“No! Not him! Not while he’s married to that bitch!” she spat venomously. 

“You know, his wife didn’t love you like I did! She didn’t raise you! She wasn’t there for you!”

Her face twisted with fury, her voice rising as she screamed. “She left you behind! Do you remember that? Do you? She didn’t care about you! She abandoned you—threw you away like trash! But me? I stayed. I cared. I’m your family!”

Mingi’s ears perked up at the sound of that voice. It was her—the same woman who had tried to abduct Yena weeks ago. A low growl rumbled in his throat, but he forced his down, shifting his focus to the sights and sounds around him. In the distance, he caught fragments of Kira’s raised voice, as she argued with the District Attorney.

“She should never have been released!” 

“Her delusions weren’t just untreated, they were escalating. And instead of following protocol, the facility discharged her prematurely without an appropriate plan in place.”

Mingi’s ears flicked toward the sound as Kira’s voice grew louder, her pace quickening.

“The ruling was explicit! The family was to be notified of any changes in her care plan. But no one was! And now she’s out here, putting Y/N in danger!”

The echoes of Kira’s tirade faded into the background as Mingi tuned everything else out, his focus narrowing to a single goal. Find you. Protect you.

She won’t hurt you. I won’t let her, he promised. 

You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you searched for the right words to diffuse the situation. “You’re right,” you said gently, taking a slow step forward as your eyes stayed locked on the blade.

“I should’ve done more to stay in touch. You were important to me, and I didn’t show that the way I should have.”

Mingi crept closer, staying low and moving with careful precision. His small frame blended with the shadows cast by the trees, his paws silent against the ground. His ears were pinned back as he watched the stalker. For a split second, her grip on the knife faltered. Her expression softened, dimming into something more fragile, almost childlike.

But then her face contorted again. “You’re lying!” she screamed, taking a step toward you. 

“You don’t mean that! You’re just saying that to make me go away.” She took a step closer, the knife jerking with her erratic movements.

His nose twitched, catching the faint scent of your fear mingled with her unbridled rage. Her emotions were spiraling out of control, and with every step she took, the gap between you and danger grew smaller.

“I’m not,” you said firmly, taking a careful step backwards. 

“I mean it. You were there for me when I needed someone, and I want to be here for you now. But I can’t do that if you don’t trust me.”

She hesitated, the knife wavering slightly in her grip. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like your words might be getting through.

Mingi inched closer, his eyes tracking her trembling hand, and his body tensed, ready to spring.

“You’ll leave me again! Just like her!”

That was his cue. With a burst of speed, Mingi darted forward, his small body a blur of motion. His sharp teeth clamped down on her ankle, eliciting a startled cry. She stumbled, but her fury only intensified. She lashed out blindly, her hand sweeping through the air, the knife flashing dangerously.

“Maro!” you screamed. 

Without hesitation, you lunged forward, your heart pounding as you reached for her wrist. Your grip was firm, fueled by adrenaline and sheer determination as you kicked her back, sending her stumbling slightly. With a swift motion, you scooped Mingi into your arms, cradling him against your chest.

As she steadied herself, her arm swung wildly and you raised your arm to shield Mingi. The knife sliced through your forearm leaving streaks of blood, but you didn’t let go, tightened your hold on him as you focused on the woman in front of you.

“I’m sorry you lost your daughter,” you began, your tone water as you tried to bite back the pain radiating down your arm.  

“I can’t imagine the pain you’ve been carrying, or how much it’s changed you. I’m sure whatever happened broke you in ways no one can see. But trying to replace her won’t bring her back.”

You could see the tears threatening to spill over, but they did nothing to soften her. If anything, they seemed to fuel her anger. Her grip on the knife tightened as she took a shaky step toward you. Your heart pounded and Mingi whimpered softly, pressing his small body closer to yours, and you instinctively held him tighter, bracing yourself.

“Police! Drop your weapon!” 

“Y/N!” your dad’s voice rang out. You turned your head just enough to see him running toward you, San and Kira close behind, flanked by a group of police officers.

The stalker froze, her head snapping toward the source of the commotion. Her grip on the knife faltered, and for a split second, you thought she might comply. But then her face contorted with fury once more, and she tightened her hold, her body tensing as if preparing to lunge.

“Stay back!” she screamed, her voice shrill and panicked.

The officers fanned out, their weapons drawn, their voices calm but firm as they repeated their commands. “Drop the knife! Put it down now!”

Your dad reached you first, his hand gripping your shoulder as he stepped slightly in front of you. “Are you hurt?” he asked urgently, his sharp eyes taking in the blood streaking down your arm and the puppy trembling in your hold.

“She cut me,” you admitted, glancing at the blood streaking down your arm. “It’s not deep, but—” You shifted Mingi slightly in your hold, cradling him closer. 

Mingi let out a soft, sleepy sigh, his head resting heavily against your chest as your dad checked you over. His breaths came slower now, each one softer than the last. His little paws twitched as though he were trying to cling to you.

His mind wandered, a hazy string of thoughts pulling him along. He couldn’t wait to go home, to finally feel safe and warm. He imagined curling up in your lap, nuzzling into your arms while you stroked his fur. He thought about Hetmon and all the running around they’re going to do at the park.

Oh, and snacks, he thought sleepily. Lots of snacks. His little tail gave a faint twitch at the thought, but even that felt like too much effort now.

Just a nap, he thought. I’ll rest for a bit, then we’ll go home. We’ll be okay.

When Mingi woke, the air around him was...different. It wasn’t the plush sheets of your bed or the soft pillow he’d grown accustomed to sleeping on. Instead, he found himself in a small, cozy basket lined with a soft cushion, placed near a gently crackling fireplace. 

He blinked, his vision adjusting to the soft light streaming through the windows of a small cottage. The space was intimate, with wooden walls lined with shelves overflowing with books, plants, and stacks of parchment. The scent of tea and ink hung in the air, faint but familiar, tugging at something deep in Mingi’s memory.

The atmosphere was comforting, nostalgic even, though Mingi couldn’t quite place why. 

“Ah,” the man said, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You’re finally awake.”

Mingi’s ears perked up as he turned toward the sound. A man crouched next to him–his features were sharp but his expression was soft and kind. Mingi tilted his head, his ears twitching as he studied the man. He’d never met him before, but his scent was unmistakable. 

It was audacious and bold, much like the jazz notes he remembered sitting on the piano back at home. 

Kim Hongjoong?

<< v | vii >>

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[abowlofsourcream]

💫⏳ The Switch-A-Loop AU Guide ⏳💫

In this Au, Everyone Loops except Siffrin! This Au will focuses more on the party’s dynamics outside of just Sif. They try their best to figure out what is going on with the help of the mysterious Loop. They will find out more about the curse, the king, and most surprising their lovable rouge! Whether they want to or not…

Have fun!

Special Memories Here!

v The Characters v

- Mirabelle, The Chosen Heroine: Chosen by the Head Housemaiden, She first believes that the loops were the work of The Change God. A silly idea if you knew what she knew but a pleasant idea nonetheless! Besides, this way, she may be actually able to prove herself! This blessing would somehow give her the change she needed! At least… That’s what she thought… So why are they still here? What more does she need to prove? Maybe, the Head Housemaiden would know what happened to the world… Oh, if only there is a way to ask Siffrin what she said to him?

- Isabeau, The Beloved Warrior: You know it’s funny, he always thought that defeating the king would be more impactful. Like in those books you read as a kid! The hero goes on this incredible journey, growing stronger, falling in love, all that jazz! But boy, these Loops took the wind out of his sails! Like, he barely try’s to confess to Sif anymore (not that he feels any less about them). However, now knowing that beating the king wouldn’t stop the loops, the next best thing is to try other ways! Now he doesn’t like to brag, but he’s a pretty smart guy. Siffrin has something to do with what’s happening, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it. Maybe, there is a way to help them help the others! It just might work!

- Odlie, The Wary Scholar: Well, this turns out to be quite more than she signed up for. Not to say that she entirely regrets meeting any of them, they are quite the enjoyable lot to be around… However, it seems these Loops are taking a toll for the lot of them. Fortunately, she is ready to find out what exactly is going on. Luckily, she has taken the time of taking notes, oh she loves her notes! Although, there is a part of the puzzle that at every angle doesn’t quite fit. Siffrin. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, they are in the middle of all of this Somehow… The fact that they don’t remember the loops, the way the king talks to them, even when he talks to the Housemaiden. The other’s try tell Odlie that it’s probably nothing, that Siffrin is in just as lost as the rest of them. But she just can’t let this go. She will find out why this is happening to her family, whether Siffrin is guilty or not…

- Bonnie, The Pure Hearted: Now, they may not understand what is happening and why all the adults are scared. But that is okay! The party snack leader is here to keep everyone safe, especially Frin. Frin can’t remember like the rest of them, so Bonnie has to make extra sure that he’s okay. Making sure he avoids all the tears, not to hit their hip against that counter, not to eat the pineapple and all that stuff! After all, it’s the least they can do. After what they did to… Anyway, they already somehow got Frin to let them hug him and sometimes he even call them “Bon Bon”! So, the other’s say that Firn and the king might be from that country that everyone forgot or something. Maybe, if you can get the King and Frin to talk… Maybe the King will help them! Like, What’s the worst that can happen! :)

- Loop, The Starstuck Guide: It’s Loop! The incredibly helpful and informative guide to this party! The only one that seems to know all about the loops. The party is unsure about what Loops wants out of this, and all the advice they give is weird/confusing! Also, they are kind of mean? Like, they try to comfort the party the best they can. However, when it comes to Siffrin… They don’t say anything out front about Sif but they do say things about him. Like pointing out all of his deaths or mistakes, lightly insulting him and making fun about how forgetful he is. It’s not great! Like who do they think they are. They just don’t know Siffrin like the rest of the party do… However, there is something familiar about this stranger.

- Siffrin, The DAMNED Traveler: ………………….. It’s all their fault………… just you wait……

[urhoneycombwitch]

heart like a hearth

roommate!Eddie x roommate!Reader it's the holidays, and goddamn everyone is home- you and Eddie haven't had a moment alone in weeks. good thing you know a boy with a van and an alibi...

foreword: Roommates!au cinematic universe expands: extended family unlocked! YES this was supposed to come out over the holidays NO I won’t be changing the setting but don’t worry it’s not overly/grossly Christmas-y. as one anon astutely pointed out, this Reader tends to be the most OCD of all my Reader iterations so I hope her actions/line of thinking reflects this disorder and not just due to being an ass, yanno? happy readin’ <3

cw: drinking, smoking, weed usage, R is related to Max (no specificity), R is referred to with a few fem nicknames (girl, princess etc.), van fucking (secluded spot!), fingering, oral (R receiving), multiple orgasms, unprotected PiV, brief argument, angst (resolved), R plays feelings close to the chest 

wc: 8.1k

___

Eddie’s been shockingly well-behaved recently, and you’d almost think it’s due to the looming threat of a Naughty List if it weren’t for the simple fact that he hasn’t had time to behave otherwise. 

The last few weeks leading up to Christmas have been, so far, a whirlwind of constant noise and color. Your and Eddie’s apartment is conveniently central enough from various friends and family, and the two of you have been blindingly busy playing hosts. 

Your cousin, Max, came by train last week, along with her best friend, El, and a ragtag group of Eddie’s former D&D minions. Three whole days of cheesy holiday crafts, winter movies, and braiding the girls’ hair while Eddie ran a gripping oneshot campaign; giving way to late evenings, El and Max sharing the pullout couch while the boys took up what little was left of the floorspace like cozy little sardines.

No time after the kids were sent off, either- Robin was insistent on making you a proper boozy eggnog from her heirloom recipe, which had Nancy offering to bring her famous chocolate crinkles, and just like that, you were signing up to throw another party.

The Best Ever Eggnog Bash (Robin’s titling) has been raucous fun so far- Eddie paid all the neighbors off with various gifts of booze, weed, and/or Wheeler’s cookies, so last night, the karaoke machine got turned up to ten and much spiked (Best-Ever) eggnog was imbibed. 

Everyone was either too inebriated or too tired to drive afterwards, so an impromptu sleepover was called for- blankets tugged from all corners of the apartment again to make soft sleeping pallets for Robin and Nancy, while the rest of the boys (Jon, Argyle, and Steve) passed out like a pile of puppies on the couch.

In the morning, it only seemed natural to keep the party going- Robin had planned to stay through the weekend, anyways, and everyone else was loath to cut short their holiday break. 

Around lunchtime, Jeff and Gareth showed up with instruments in hand, expecting a rehearsal session but were instead greeted with plates of grilled cheese and a knotted ball of lights that no one had been able to untangle yet. 

They’re in the corner of the living room, now, bickering over the sound of a Crosby record as Jeff loops the string of lights around Gareth’s waiting hands. 

Jon and Steve are sharing a joint on the couch, giggling at a test pattern on the TV screen; Vicki, Robin, and Argyle are in various states of lap-sitting and stool sharing at the breakfast bar, a wasteland of cookie decorating ephemera spread across the counter.

“I think we did this backwards,” Nancy says, thoughtful and amused, passing you a freshly-cooled plate of gingerbread men. “Should’ve saved the alcohol for after the fine motor skill activities.”

“And deny the elves this simple joy?” You reply, sardonic and equally amused, setting the plate in front of your friends. Robin’s eyes light up, and Argyle nearly spills a whole flute of tequila in his haste to stake claim.

“The frosting will make you sick if you keep eating it,” Nancy cautions, but Robin’s already stuck the spoon in her mouth, pulling her choice of cookie in close and muttering with dogged determination to a blushing Vicki- “Gonna make you the best gingergirl ever. Seriously. It’s gonna blow your socks off.”

Longsuffering, Nancy sighs and leaves to check the oven. Eddie whirls into the living room hoisting a clear tub of board games above his head that rattles as he shakes it, truimphant- “Found it. I’m about to Dutch Blitz you into the next century, Harrington.”

“I wanted to play Boggle,” Steve whines, but his protests are quickly swallowed by the swarm of helping hands rearranging the living room; all the furniture gets pushed to the edges while Eddie deals in players on the carpet. 

Something about Eddie is particularly magnetic today- he’s wearing this maroon knit sweater gifted from his uncle, lean biceps flexing under soft fabric whenever he leans to place a card. The deep red is a great color on him, contrasting so nicely with his wild dark curls and glinting silver rings; so nicely, in fact, that you’re driven to distraction, ogling him openly from your spot mixing icing by the sink.

The thing about Eddie behaving himself? It’s kind of driving you crazy. 

You’re used to the bickering, the good-natured arguments, Eddie pushing your buttons until you snap or bend. You were expecting at least some skirting of the Rules- sneaking into your room after all your guests were asleep, maybe leaving a hickey that couldn’t be explained away- but he hasn’t progressed past fleeting, friendly touches and interactions.

(Well. Except the other night at the bar. But you’re sure everyone was too tipsy to see under the table, his hand inching up your skirt...)

And then, with stunning clarity- you realize you miss him. Like, you actually, truly, miss Eddie. He’s sat on a carpet just a few steps away, profile softly backlit from a nearby candle, and you’re aching to be closer.

As if tuned in to your frequency, Eddie looks up to catch your eye. Time and noise fade into the background of your thoughts; for a moment, it’s just you and him.

Just a few more days, you think, trying for telepathy. Then it’ll be just us again.

He gives you a wink from across two rooms, and the grin breaks on your face before you can think to stop it.  

___

Later in the afternoon, you’re using the only available sink in the bathroom to wash frosting from your hands when Eddie pokes his head around the partially-open door.

“Hey. We gotta go to PJ’s.”

He’s wearing his black leather jacket, your puffed winter coat folded over one arm, ringed hand curled around the doorframe as you finish drying your hands.

“I can do a snack run.” Agreeable, you take the proffered coat to put on. PJ’s Corner Store is less than two blocks away, but if you send Eddie out alone into the big world with a simple task there’s no telling when he’ll be back. “I’ll be quick, you stay and host.”

This last word ends on a tease as you zip the warm coat up to your chin, Eddie following your lead into the hallway even as he shakes his head. “Nah, that’s no good We’re out of cigarettes, too- stole Emerson’s last one.”

“Hey,” Gareth squawks from the kitchen, mouth full of gingerbread. 

“You shouldn’t be smoking ‘em, anyways, kid,” Eddie says, sagely, sticking the filter of a fresh cig between his teeth even as he lectures. 

“Well apparently we’re going to PJ’s,” you announce, hooking a thumb at Eddie behind you in a gesture of it can’t be helped, while inside you’re buzzing with the possibility of walking with just Eddie. Two blocks there and back, all that quiet snow…

There’s some protest at both hosts abandoning the party until everyone learns that the corner store has snacks, and then you’re fielding a barrage of requests and organizing spare change and crumpled bills into your pocket.

Eddie meets you by the front door, walking backwards while giving Nancy strict instructions for holding down the fort- “Don’t let those shitheads in my room, Wheeler, I’m counting on you to preserve state secrets-” -then he reaches past your head for the coat rack, pulling the length of Robin’s green scarf from its hook before wrapping it snug around your neck.

As he tucks the frayed ends into your coat, you notice the glint of van keys that he must’ve palmed silently from the other hook. 

“Thought we were going to PJ’s,” you whisper. 

Eddie pulls his hands away but not before trailing his fingers against the bare side of your neck, leaving a cascade of goosebumps in their wake, and replies in the same low, conspiratorial tone- “Who says we’re not?”

Finally, after scattered last requests you’re borne out into the cold on a wave of cheery goodbyes. The second the door shuts, Eddie’s tugging at your coat sleeve.

“Let’s go.” The order is gentle but weighty enough that your swirling questions are quelled, for the time being- you follow close on Eddie’s heels down the building stairs, boots crunching into the layer of fresh snow as he leads you across the parking lot.

At the van, Eddie carves ice from the windshield, strong arm moving the scraper in a solid arc. You hazard a glance at the apartment windows, an internal sigh of relief when you realize Eddie had parked on the west side out of view. 

“Not really sure what your angle is, here.” You’re not trying to poke the bear, this time, you’re just genuinely confused and a little on edge, unused to taking a backseat where planning is concerned. 

Eddie doesn’t answer, and you follow him to the other side of the windshield as he continues scraping, talking all the while. “I just mean- we can’t be gone long. Nancy’s responsible enough but if she starts drinking, too, then all bets are off. And it’ll probably look weird, you know, if it’s just you and me gone for so long. And we really should get snacks-”

“We will,” Eddie says, interrupting for the first time to open the passenger side door. “In you get.”

Eddie loads you into the van (rather like a dog, you think, petulantly clicking your seatbelt), then gets in himself, turning on the engine to blast vented heat throughout the van. 

The speakers crackle to life, and as Eddie turns onto the main road you fiddle with the radio dial until soft, instrumental Christmas music plays on low- a welcome respite from the weekend’s cacophony of noise.

You’re a little sad to be missing out on what would’ve been an extended walk; the roads are clear, and in less than two minutes, PJ’s appears down the street like a beacon, lights from the OPEN sign glowing against a backdrop of white.

Sad, that is, until Eddie drives past PJ’s.

“Eddie.”

A direct response to the note of warning in your voice, Eddie keeps his eye on the road but reaches for your hand (previously, tightened into a fist around your jeans). 

Once you allow his fingers to weave between yours, Eddie uses the stoplight as an opportunity to turn towards you, thumb brushing over the tops of your knuckles as he asks, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” The answer comes so easily- you didn’t even have to consider an alternate option. Your trust is not something simply given, and Eddie knows it; there is still this lingering part of you, though, that wants to push back.

As a sort of self-protection, a longing for the familiar, you ready an argument. “But-”

“Nope!” Eddie interrupts, tugging at your hand in his grasp, almost jolly in his denial. “No comebacks. No skirting. I wanna hear you say it.”

The light turns green, but with no cars in at least a mile radius, Eddie’s foot stays firm on the brake, his bright, intense gaze fixed on you. 

You have a sudden urge to dash yourself against the passenger side window, or maybe to jerk the car door open and roll out onto the dirty snow of the sidewalk. A stifling, panicked feeling that would be overwhelming if it weren’t for the fact that Eddie is watching you so tenderly, even while the wheels of your mind work overtime.

A brief few seconds that feel like an age, and then, with a squeeze of his hand, words that take shape and form in a voice quiet but sure- “I trust you, Eddie.”

His grin is wide, even as he presses a kiss to your knuckles, dropping your hand in favor of the wheel as the van resumes its speed. “Atta girl. Wanna show you a place.”

The van cuts a smooth path up a sloping westward street, warm holiday lights from the row of houses reflecting colors in the snow. There’s another stop sign at the top of the hill, and Eddie turns left again, steadily climbing, until the road flattens out.

A road sign declaring DEAD END looms and then passes your window; at the same time, the paved road turns to gravel. Not for the first time, you’re grateful that Eddie learned to drive on the harsh backroads of his native Tennessee hometown- it means he’s adept at guiding the van through a wintered forest to get to the other side.

The other side turns out to be well worth the wait. The snowy boughs of thickened trees give way to a clearing, and Eddie parks a safe distance away from the edge of the hill while still close enough for you to take in the view.

You unbuckle, leaning into your forearms on the dash for a better look, a soft exhale of exclamation- “Wow.”

It’s a spectacular sight- the city sprawls in shining white, pinpricks of winking lights everywhere that make the whole thing look like a blanket of sequins.

You’re keenly aware of the fact that Eddie isn’t looking at the view, he’s watching you take it in for the first time; you throw him a bone, flopping back into your seat with a sweet smile just for him- “Killer spot. Almost worth the adrenaline of thinking you were gonna axe murder me the whole time.”

Eddie scoffs, shrugging his jacket off and tossing it into the depths behind his seat. “You know I prefer a sword as my murderous weapon of choice. Smoke?”

A hand-rolled joint sits between his fingers, your arched eyebrow in response, incredulous- “Seriously? How much time do you think we have?”

“At least three hours,” Eddie says, confidently, straightening his legs into the footwell to fish the lighter from his front jeans pocket. “I showed Nance where the weed brownies are and told her to go crazy.”

With the movement of his legs, the red sweater rides up, a strip of tantalizing milky stomach and smattered trail of dark hair immediately burning itself into your brain. You swallow against the dryness in your throat, questioning even as he lights up- “When the hell did you have time to bake?”

“I have my ways.” Eddie inhales. Smoke pours from his nostrils, the whites of his teeth when his head swivels to catch your eye. “Made a batch while you and the kids were out. Our dear guests will be blind to time, trust me.”

“I do,” you insist, hot shock of fluster in your chest, shedding your own jacket that joins Eddie’s with a harsh throw before deciding you actually can’t let this one go. “I just… did you forget El’s dad is a cop? Like, badge and everything.”

“So?” 

If Eddie wasn’t smoking, you’d be half as distracted- he’s in his natural element, knees spread, head lolling on the seatback, a hazy cloud around the loose black curls that settle and shift on his shoulders. 

“So, you should maybe be more careful. You’re really not worried about getting caught with contraband out on your- on our counters, for that matter?”

It’s an argument quickly losing steam as the air grows heady with weed; Eddie takes another drag before reaching to stick the end of the joint between your lips. “Why would I worry when you’ve clearly got that covered for the both of us?”

Your brows knit together, a thunderous expression fixed on its target as you take a drag, baring your teeth on the exhale. Eddie chuckles, eyes already lightly red-rimmed as he watches, coos, “My little dragon.”

“I’m serious.” The joint is pinched between your own fingers now, but when Eddie reaches for it, you move quicker, holding it out of reach. He pouts, draping himself with dramatics over his armrest as you shake your head- “Eddie.”

He acquiesces, a goofy, deep forward-tipped bow that sends tendrils of his hair swinging across the knees of your jeans, one of his big hands wrapping around your upper thigh to steady himself. “Sweetheart. Y’know I always kid-proof my shit. I solemnly swear my allegiance to your best judgement.”

Eddie knows just what to say and do to diffuse your temper- you can’t be mad or annoyed with the crown of his head practically in your lap, supplicative and good-natured. 

You take another lungful of smoke, this one traveling direct to the contours of your brain, dampening the stress and lighting up the sensation of Eddie’s hand on your leg.

“Bring me here just to smoke?” Your free hand lifts, sets itself on the top of Eddie’s head- you note the way his shoulders stiffen slightly, the way his fingers curl tighter into the doughy flesh of your thigh. “Or did you have other, more nefarious intentions?”

Eddie dips so low his lips touch just near his thumb, warm breath of his groan seeping into your skin even despite the layer of denim. His other hand grasps your hip, subtly pulling you closer to the edge of your seat. “Yeah. I intend to break Rule Two in a major way.”

Oh, right. The rules. ‘Apartment as neutral territory’ being one of them. 

The joint sputters when you take a final hit, a small hiss when you snuff the end into the ashtray tucked snugly in a cupholder, leaning over the expanse of Eddie’s stretched spine notched through his sweater. “The van counts in my book. As far as neutrality goes.”

Perking up like a kid at Christmas, Eddie lifts his head, still half in your lap but chocolate eyes shining with hope (and no small amount of lust)- “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

It’s all the encouragement Eddie needs to make his move, pulling with intention now until you’re out of your seat and in his lap, knees on either side of his hips, pelvis settling into the crook of his own where a familiar hardness can be felt.

Eddie attaches himself to your neck, kissing desperately down the column as you arch into him, hands roaming down your back, another breaching past the hem of your top to feel your ribs.

“Fuck.” Already breathy and it’s been ten seconds. It should be embarrassing but it simply isn’t, not with the way Eddie’s finding his way to your bra, cupping and squeezing over the soft fabric like it’s all he’s been thinking about. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Been weeks, princess.” His breath slides hot over the wet marks he’s leaving, teeth nipping at your collarbone, a soft groan when your hands find their way back to his hair, fisting around the soft anchor of his curls. 

Eddie’s other hand not busy with your breast slides to the front of your jeans, a deft maneuver as he pops the button and slides his fingers past the elastic of your underwear; a hoarse, choked moan when he feels the slick accumulated there.

In awe, he draws his hand up and out, leaning back just to hold it up for the both of you to see in the soft backlighting of the dash. As his ringed fingers separate, stickiness glistens and webs between the digits. 

Chest heaving, cheeks burning, you shrug, feigning casual even with fistfuls of his hair in your grasp- “Like you said. It’s been weeks.”

Eddie puts his hand back where it belongs, between the apex of your thighs that automatically try to snap closed as his fingers hit against your clit like a pulsing homing beacon, just for him. He works you up quickly, panting and wet noises the only companion to the wintry silence, like you’re the only two people in the whole city.

He slips two fingers past your entrance, curling them just right, hitting against that spongy spot that makes your legs tremble and pulls a warbled moan from the back of your throat. 

Your arms resting on his shoulders spasm with the mounting pleasure, unintentionally bringing Eddie’s face in line with your breasts (an angle he’s more than happy to take, giving your other breast some mouthy attention through the layers).

“I’m- oh, fuck me- fuck, Eddie. I’m close.” 

Your body responding far faster than normal (it really has been weeks, after all), the falling is fast approaching, heel of Eddie’s pumping hand hitting perfectly against that fizzing bundle of nerves. 

That tight resolve is worming its way in- you don’t want this to end. You want Eddie’s mouth on your chest, his fingers warmed to your core temperature, you want it always.

He can tell, because he always can, when you’re holding back; the small, subtle ways in which your body stiffens and tries to restrain itself. 

Eddie tries to play stern, even as his cock throbs painfully, pinned under your squirming thigh- “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. You know I’ll give you another one. C’mon. Let it go.”

It’s all the encouragement you need. The coiling tension snaps in a sparking, roiling heat, gushing around Eddie’s steady and quick tempo; hopefully this spot is as soundproof as it feels, out here at the edge of the world, a sharp, whining cry as you come and fall apart. 

The aftershocks cause full-body tremors, while Eddie soothes with hands and voice, murmuring praises and calling you names that make your head spin like “good girl” and “sweet thing”.

Panting, you manage to lift your forehead off Eddie’s while his hands drop to your hips again- he looks fucking wrecked. Hair sticking up at the back thanks to your handiwork, pupils blown so wide the black is swallowing the gentle brown, a blush of pink at his cheeks. With a crooked smile, he asks- “Gonna let me top this time?”

A call and response, one that shakes a giggle from your shivery lungs- “I’ll think about it.”

Eddie gasps in phony surprise. “Wow, it really is Christmas.”

Rolling your eyes, stamina returning, you pat the tops of Eddie’s shoulders before using them to push yourself from his lap. The cry of his protest is short lived once he realizes you’re just moving to the back of the van, arranging the two discarded jackets for extra padding.

You make quick work of your shirt and have just shoved the waist of your jeans down to mid-thigh when a loud thunk startles you into looking up- in his eagerness to get back here with you, Eddie’s foot got caught in his seatbelt.

He curses, lying flat on the floor of the van looking like a gangly marionette while trying to yank his foot free. Your laughter has him twisting to watch, head tilting back to try and catch your eyes until he lurches free with an oof. 

Disentangled on his hands and knees, Eddie frowns when he sees the kicked-aside pile of your jeans and top, and starts with whiny reproach- “Heyyy. I was supposed to do that part. You-”

In a single swift move, you twist the clasp of your bra and shove it off, revealing the full sight of your breasts to the end of Eddie's stopped sentence. He gets with the program after that, expeditious to the point of humor, stripping down to just boxer shorts as you lie back on your elbows, body molding to the comfort of padded flooring. 

“That sweater really does look insane on you,” you comment, the rich red a blur as it’s flung to the corner. “Couldn’t stop staring, earlier.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie’s brows waggle a suggestive dance as he crawls forward, stretching out over your supine form, kissing between the valley of your breasts. “I’ll send Uncle Wayne my regards.”

“Maybe no blood relative talk right now,” you gasp out, his lips forming a suction over your left nipple.

A wet pop as he moves to the other, considering- “Probably a good call.”

In what is quickly becoming a familiar facet of sex with Eddie, he can’t seem to stay away from your pussy for long. Ever since the first time you fucked, Eddie’s been lightly obsessed with figuring out your body, all the ways in which it can tick and sing for him alone- and he’s proven to be a quick study. 

Drawn like a magnet, his lips leave damp patches as he kisses his way down your torso, across your stomach; you’re heaving with unsteady, anticipatory breaths as Eddie’s teeth catch at the band of your undies, as his hands pull-slip them down your thighs and off. 

You’ve never felt more well and truly fucked, in every sense of the word, than when Eddie’s mouth is on your cunt. 

It’s an art form, really- the particular attention he pays to all the small hotspots you didn’t even realize were a thing: the bony bridge between inner thigh and pelvis where your femoral artery whooshes in response to his canines; the tender skin just under your weeping hole that makes everything clench when his tongue deftly prods. 

Fucked, as in where the hell else am I ever gonna have it this good; conversely, fucked as in can’t possibly hold onto that thought with his tongue where it is.

His hands can never agree on a favorite place, usually taken to roaming about your body- this time, his right rests solid on the softness of your stomach, keeping the rolling wave of your body at the mercy of his lips while the other hand squeezes the fat of your upper thigh in a tight grip. 

It’s impossible to stop the cacophony of sounds that spill out, nearly drowning out the slick noises of Eddie familiarizing himself with the inside of your cunt; sharp gasps, moans, a cry as he dips back in, out again, thighs shaking, closing around the silver hoops that line the shell of Eddie’s ears. 

When his clever mouth moves up to pull the aching bead of your clit into a suction, the space between your ears goes white as the damn snowscape outside.

“Jesus fuck, Eddie. Oh, my god- don’t stop. Please don’t stop, that feels-”

In response, Eddie moans, sucking harder, taking his hand from your thigh to fit two fingers into you, wall of muscle swallowing him greedily. Your spine arches from the padded floor, heels digging in where your legs are slung over Eddie’s shoulders, hand burying itself in the soft crown of Eddie’s hair. 

“Oh- fuck, fuck, Eddie- Eddie, Eddie…”

There’s a distant awareness that you’re babbling but you know Eddie likes it, loves that he’s the one making you fall apart past the tight boundary of sound you usually keep; the pads of his fingers coast against the front wall of your cunt once, twice, and your second orgasm of the evening hits with the force of a freight train. 

The pleasure wracks through your frame, fevered flush sparking down to the tips of your toes as it moves through your seizing muscles. Your hips jolt upwards, a pleasant counter pressure when Eddie’s hand on your stomach stays firm, keeping your pelvis aligned so there’s not a moment away from his mouth. 

Eddie’s tongue draws out the feeling on your pulsing clit while his fingers stay at that perfect angle, driving into you with the same fast-patterned stroking that keeps your rapture spiraling. The pleasure starts to ebb but still he laps at you, head shaking back and forth like a dog, pinning your wrist to the floor when you squirm and seize up, foggy and helpless to the flow of euphoria. 

He pauses, finally, your body going lax the instant his mouth leaves to start kissing his way back up your stomach. In the waning light from the back van windows, Eddie’s chin is shimmering with your slick.

You have a sudden, desperate need to kiss it off him. Rule Number Four be fucking damned, you want to kiss this boy, full on the mouth. Unbelievable you’ve both stuck to it for so long- the desire welling within is something two orgasms can't begin to touch.

Would it be so bad… your heart pounds, blood chorus singing through your veins as Eddie gets closer, crawling up your body. Your better judgement is not at play here, dizzy and sick with affection, reaching up to touch the black-inked wyvern on his bicep, tangling the fingers of your other hand into the chain of the swinging guitar pick necklace.

The interior of the van has warmed with the heat of your combined bodily movements, but when Eddie shoves his boxers down and off you could swear the temperature spikes three degrees at least.

Eddie’s mostly focused on both of your lower halves, a ringed hand at the ditch of your knee pushing it towards your chest, spreading you open that much further to line up at your entrance- so he doesn’t see the way you’re looking at him. The way your eyes are drinking in every bead of sweat, every contour of his bowed head and tight shoulders.

With his other hand planted on the floor of the van just by your ear, Eddie uses the extra stability to drag his cock through your soaked folds, using your spend to coat the heavy tip and generous length. 

The hand under your knee cinches tight, Eddie hissing through his teeth- “Shit. So wet. S’all for me, sweet thing? Hm?”

“Yeah.” You’re struck dumb with wanting, unable to play coy, urging Eddie in closer with a heel at the small of his back. “All yours. Please-”

A sharper tug than you intend shortens the silver lead, hauls Eddie’s face shockingly close to your own, his breath puffing out tantalizingly close to your lips, lashes blinking rapidly in surprise against your cheek. 

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, voice husked, sheathing himself into your cunt with achingly slow precision. “Okay, sweetheart. All mine.”

His forehead bumps gently into yours with each small thrust as he tests the waters, holding back even still, making sure your body is ready (a moot point as you feel wet enough to fill an inflatable pool by now). 

The thick head of his cock slides against that innermost spot, your knees rising to cage in the sides of Eddie’s torso; he lifts his head from yours just far enough to be able to see your face when his thrusts pick up intensity. 

Somewhere, there’s a loose hinge in the van that squeaks with each movement, grounding you with each rock of Eddie’s hips, each push and pull and delicious drag of his throbbing cock. Other noises, too: like your open-mouthed moaning, and the short ones Eddie makes each time he slams into you, exhale of breath halfway between a grunt and a sigh, his dark eyes still dancing over your face.

The pleasure is building again, everything mounting and climbing up to that peak. Eddie chokes out a “fuck” as the channel of your cunt squeezes him vice-like, hips faltering, rhythm skipping beats. 

It’s impossible to hold on to any one thought, fragments swirling along with all those firing synapses- the fresh layer of snow on the roads, coating the pine trees, the slatted roofs. Eddie’s chipped Garfield mug next to yours on the counter at home. 

Eddie’s fringed bangs, stuck to his forehead with sweat; the mole on his left peck, the freckle above his second rib; Eddie’s lips, the bottom one plush and dark from being bitten and abused by his own front teeth; Eddie’s lips-

In the end, you’re not sure if it’s the pull of your hand in the chain, or the fact that Eddie was already ducking down towards you again. 

What you do know is that it feels a whole lot better coming on Eddie’s cock when his mouth is on yours. 

As far as first kisses go, this one is sloppy, wet with spit and tasting of your cum, Eddie’s noise of shock quickly turning into a vibrating groan as he kisses you back. His tongue is still coated in a layer of your slick but once you suck that away you finally get a pure taste, for the first time, of him. Of Eddie. 

It’s this thought that freefalls you headlong into orgasm, taking Eddie with you, bottom lip taking the pinch of Eddie’s teeth as he comes, too, warmth blooming as his cock spits out weeks’ worth of pent-up release. 

“Fucking hell,” Eddie says against your lips, enjoying the novel feeling while trying to regain his breath. “Jesus christ. You okay? Was that- I mean, it was good?”

In the honeyed afterglow, you press a palm into Eddie’s cheek, relishing in the fact that you can feel his smile when you reply, honest, “Very good. The best.”

As if unsure he’s allowed to now that the moment has passed, Eddie doesn’t kiss you on the lips again, instead planting a chaste but no less adoring one on your cheek. Carefully, he sits up, then helps disentangle your body from the weave of his own. 

Your head swims as you take the proffered hand to sit up, arms automatically crossing over your chest; Eddie digs through the clothes pile and offers you things one at a time; underwear, bra, a sock, then the other, quiet and attentive until you’re fully dressed.

The dampness between your thighs is vaguely uncomfortable but nothing can be done about it until you’re back at the apartment. You sit cross-legged on the padding of Eddie’s coat, blinking at the boy gathering his clothes until he catches you and grins back, softly. 

Eddie asks, like he can read your mind, “Still okay?” 

At the base of your throat, something stings. “Um. I don’t know.”

Eddie’s mass of black curls pops through the opening of his sweater, which he shifts to jam his arms into. “Don’t know if you’re okay? Or…”

The sentence hangs in the air as Eddie looks at you, partially dressed in his boxers and Christmas sweater, looking flushed and curious and adorable. The stinging moves to the corners of your eyes, fingers tangling into each other with nerves and plummeting hormones. 

“I’m okay, I’m just- I’m just sorry.”

Eddie snorts, like the idea is ridiculous, shaking the wrinkles out of his jeans- “For what? Being crazy hot? Can’t fault you for that, babe, kind of the whole point.”

The tears that are threatening to spill aren’t allowing you to join in on the jokes, not yet. Same as earlier, your voice quavers, brows drawing together as you stare at your twisting hands- “Sorry for kissing you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Eddie’s tone is faux chipper, like kissing you is a totally normal occurrence that didn’t just blow his world open, doing an awkward crunch-wiggle forward to get his jeans on. “The day I accept an apology for one of your kisses is the day I should be sent to the guillotine. Without trial.”

The brand of his lips hasn’t left yet, your tongue poking out without permission to swipe over your bottom lip, skin buzzing and still tasting like him. “We- I should at least try to stick to the rules.”

Was the kiss your doing, though? The way he was looking at you, just before you pulled him in- almost like he was waiting for it. Waiting to kiss you- 

Still in a jovial post-sex mood, Eddie buttons his pants and perches on a spare amp box in the corner, boots sitting between his socked feet. “Sure thing. Just, ah, running the stats here- I don’t think the evidence stacked against our very epic but very secret dalliance is bound to be hidden for long.”

“Right.” This, at least, is a normal topic of conversation, hearkening back to the times of ten minutes ago before a kiss fucked everything sideways. 

You lift a hip to pull Eddie’s coat out from underneath, folding it over an arm just to have something to do.  “Well, there’s always an alternate explanation. I’m getting good at those, y’know- borrow a tasteful scarf to hide hickeys. ‘I was late because of the dentist, the vet, the traffic-’”

“Always one for excuses.”

There’s not an ounce of joking in Eddie’s tone this time, enough derision to make you look up, sharp and sudden- “Excuse me?”

This time, Eddie is the first to drop his gaze first, hair falling over his face as he bends forward to fit his foot in the mouth of his boot. “Nothing.”

A hollow thunk as his heel makes contact, then he reaches for the other boot with a weary, flat laugh, shaking his head under your tense gaze. “You just- you don’t think they’ll see it? Smell it on us? All the l- the- y’know, the affection? The intimacy?”

The Word he swallowed sits in your own throat, just behind the sting. The cool tips of your fingers slot over your eyelids, Eddie’s coat in the crook of your elbow smothering your senses with spiced cologne and nicotine. Maddening. 

In the dark behind your fingers, the tears gather. The Rules, once a lifeline to your structured self, now seem childish and hurtful. You say the one thing you’re able- “I’m sorry.”

Another dull thunk for his second boot, and then you hear Eddie rise, feel the soothing brush of his touch on the crown of your head as he passes- he doesn’t even sound mad. “Don’t be. S’okay.”

The handle on one of the back van doors pops, preceding a metallic creak and a rush of cool air. You drop your hands from your eyes, watching the profile of Eddie’s face against the backdrop of wintry woods as he crouches at the van’s edge, drawing in lungfuls of crisp air. 

The cold leeches in, bringing with it a sense of exposure, taking all the smells and heat of sex from the coziness of the enclosure and lifting it all out to be scattered on the wind. You have a strange feeling of wanting to reach out and hold onto the last of it, as if it were tangible. 

Eddie’s boots crunch into the snow, but he doesn’t go far, just steps a yard or so away. Through the single open door his back is turned, shoulders rolling, neck stretching from side to side, working out the kinks. 

Longing aches through your bones; you want to bury your face into the space between his shoulder blades and breathe in that musky, rich red fabric. You don’t feel as though you’ve earned that right, somehow. 

Instead, you snag your own boots and coat to jam on, joining Eddie under a sky paled with early evening light. He stands silently, eyes fixed on the trees, breath a floating cloud around his head.

You stand just as silent, shoulder to shoulder, Eddie’s black jacket still tucked in your crossed arms. Silent until you can’t bear it, bouncing on the balls of your feet against the icy wind that cools the sweat under your arms and back with a chill.

“I know you don’t want me to be, but I am. Sorry, that is. I don’t-”

The tears are back. You swallow them down, determined to loose the words from your lips, however clunky, because Eddie deserves to hear them at the very least. “I don’t know how to function without rules. Without some sort of- cage, or, like, something to hold me in, ‘cuz otherwise I-”

In answer, Eddie breaks his deer-like stillness to turn, pulling you into himself, arms wrapping you up in a solid hug. The warmth starts to creep back in as he rocks you gently, dropping  kiss to the top of your head before saying- “I know. I know, honey, because I know you.”

Tears make wet tracks down your cheeks, dampening the front of Eddie’s sweater, even as you make a watery attempt at humor- “No, you don’t. Don’t even know my middle name.”

“Sure I do. Guessed it ages ago. Obviously Albert.” 

His hug tightens when you sob a laugh, clinging to him, words still fighting to the surface- “I’m just, sorry, that I’m the way that I am and I can’t change it, not right now, at least, but it’s hurting you and I just am so s-”

“Honey, honey,” Eddie’s mumbling over your stream of consciousness, pressing in closer to rest his cheek on your crown. “Don’t have to be sorry. ‘M not hurting. Not from you, never from you. I like you so much-”

“I like you so much,” you sniff, pulling your head up to look at him even through the tears so he knows you mean it. 

You’re met with a wide smile, a winner, the kind that shows all his teeth, bright enough to rival the snow- “Oh my god. You have a crush on me?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, pushing at his chest but weak enough that he chuckles at the effort, basking in the extra touches.

There’s an unfortunate lack of time but you take what little aftercare is afforded, hearing the thump of Eddie’s heart under your ear, relishing the feeling of his hold. Though the winter air is bitter with cold, it helps to clear your mind from the sex-weed-shame loop. 

Spoken into the fibers of Eddie’s sweater- “I just… don’t want to share you yet. It’s stupid and complicated but I want it to be our thing, for a little while longer. Just us.”

“Just us,” Eddie repeats, kissing the parts of you he can reach- forehead, temple, line of scalp. “I can swing that. Not too different from now, hm?”

“It will be, though.” It’s a promise that scares you, but one you’re confident you can make in good faith. You just need some time. “Promise.”

With one last squeeze, Eddie lets you go, taking his coat from your arm to slip into, patting around for his keys and jingling them with a wink- “Your chariot awaits, princess.”

___

As it turns out, Eddie wasn’t, in fact, lying about going to PJ’s, which is why you now find yourself under the harsh fluorescents of a corner store aisle with your roommate’s cum drying in your undies. 

“Snakes.”

Zoning out on the racks of candy, Eddie’s sudden word from just behind your right shoulder makes you jump.

“What?” You cast a glance backwards. 

In response, Eddie’s jacketed arm brushes yours when he leans past you for a bag of gummy snakes. He’s already got an armful of various chips and a 6-pack of beers, the bottles clinking as he shifts. 

“Robs won’t eat the bear kind. Said the shape makes her too sad to eat.”

You consider this, sliding a bag of peach rings off the metal line for Nancy. “But biting a snake’s head off, that’s all good and fine for a tree hugger?”

“She’s an odd duck,” Eddie agrees, wistful, plastic crinkling under those big palms that were mapping the shape of your body not twenty minutes ago. 

“Well, you’d know all about that, huh?” You knock a shoulder playfully into Eddie’s side.

The look he gives you is mischievous, sparkling through the frame of long, dark lashes. “If it quacks…”

Earlier, you’d used the payphone to call home while Eddie hunted for vittles- a short drive back, but nonetheless you were anxious to know the situation you’d both be walking into. 

Annoyingly, Eddie was right again- Nance sounded unusually giggly, telling you all about the epic blanket fort the boys had built under Robin’s orders, the background filled with drunken and otherwise intoxicated chatter. Not even eagle-eyed Nancy noticed the time you and Eddie spent away- all she asked about was the food supplies. 

At the counter, a lone employee bags the snack fest with disinterest, retrieving Eddie’s requested pack of smokes and sorting the crumpled bills you provide with barely a word.

Eddie’s eyes keep darting to yours, nostrils flaring, hamming up the humor, and it’s getting harder not to laugh each time, corners of your mouth twisting to keep the noise from bursting out. 

If there’s something funny, Eddie wants to share it with you. He’s always been generous. 

In the glittering snowscape of PJ’s parking lot, Eddie plucks at your sleeve before you can open the passenger door. 

“Got somethin’ for ya.”

You turn with a frown, eyeing him suspiciously- “If you just spent real money on a pack of those skeezy ‘sex pills’ from the front counter I’m actually not interested.”

“No, no, it’s-” Eddie slings the grocery bag handles to his other arm, rustling in his coat pocket to procure a small, flat parcel of brown butcher paper. “Your Christmas present. Didn’t wanna give it in front of all those other weirdos.”

There’s a loop of white string tied in a knotted bow; you smile softly, taking the gift from Eddie’s proffered hand and plucking at the string. “But- I didn’t bring yours, it’s sitting under the tree-”

“I know. It’s cool, I’ll open it day-of if you want, I just… wanted you to have this now.”

You think about the shiny new record waiting at home for Eddie as you unwrap the present with burgeoning glee- in the middle of the paper lies a circlet of weaved fabric, in varying shades of forest green and cerulean blue. 

It’s not until you lift the loop into the air that you realize what it is- a friendship bracelet. 

“Max and El helped,” Eddie explains, in the nervous, self-conscious way of a gift-giver. “Had a whole craft sesh while you and the boys were out ice skating. Don’t think they quite believed I was makin’ it for Jeff, but…”

He trails off. You’ve just noticed the tiny silver pendant dangling from the center of the bracelet, about the size of your pinky nail- it dances with movement, casting glints of light from its surface, the engraved E flipping in and out of sight. 

“Couldn’t craft that one. Need a little more real-world metal working practice under my belt for that.” Eddie hooks a thumb in his belt loop for emphasis, rocking back on his heels. “Got it when I went to the big city last month.”

You run the pad of your finger over the engraving, feeling the grooves of the letter press up against your skin, shocked into silence. 

“And- uhm, I mean, if you hate it, or if it’s, like, totally weird that I just gave you something with my initial on it-” Eddie is full of fidgety nerves, making a sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate general whateverness- “I didn’t mean it like an I own you sorta thing, you’re your own woman- person- obviously, and you can totally just throw it to the birds-”

The parking lot and nearby street is empty, but even if it wasn’t, that wouldn’t have stopped you from pulling Eddie in by the jacket collar and kissing him breathless. 

He makes a little mmph of surprise, then gets with it, kissing back, letting you direct the show with a fistful of his lapel. When you pull back, his eyes are half-lidded, a lovely pink flush in his cheeks as he chases your mouth for one last kiss.

“Thank you,” you whisper, genuine, lifting your right wrist for Eddie to take- “Will you put it on me?”

With gentle dedication, Eddie fits the bracelet around your wrist and ties the ends together, silver pendant sitting perfectly at the base of your hand. 

“You’re comin’ for Christmas, right?” Eddie’s taking his time with microadjustments of the fit, using the excuse to trail his long fingers around your upper arm while he’s at it. “Don’t think I officially asked you yet, just sort of assumed.”

He’s petting the inside of your forearm, almost to distraction. 

“Wayne won’t mind?”

Eddie snorts, a double-squeeze to your wrist as he fiddles with the ends of the bracelet. “You kidding? Pretty sure that spiteful old man would lock me out of the damn trailer if I showed up without you.”

Despite the cold, warmth blooms through your limbs, a holiday spent with hot chocolate on the Munson couch a fortifying future indeed. 

Eddie pulls your wrist to his face, meeting it halfway for a kiss before giving your hand back. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go see what damage those holiday hooligans have wrought on our apartment.”

[oh-no-its-bird]

Kakashi Anastasia AU. Specifically bc I started listening to once upon a december on loop, oops

But umm. Anastasia AU. Taking place in a weird mix of old Russia and old Japan with little to no shinobi presence. The Hatake house was once this great, powerful clan that ruled over Iron Country, till a man (stuck between Danzo or Madara— tho also Orochimaru could make for a funny Rasputin) swore to tear them down from their lofty position

Eventually pretty much the entire clan is killed and or scattered, and in the chaos Sakumo and Kakashi manage to escape the palace but are separated. Years pass and the political climate has chilled the fuck out, and while the Hatake's are no longer in charge, Sakumo remains in a position of relative wealth and power

Kakashi, meanwhile, who was a child at the time of the upheaval, has grown up and no longer remembers his father or anything of his former life— he doesn't even remember his previous name, going instead by Sukea.

But there's a rumor on the streets, that somehow Kakashi had survived. And that his father would pay his weight in gold to see him again

And so between markets selling old Hatake belongings stolen from the palace, Rin and Obito strike up a plan to find themselves a Kakashi look alike, train him to the part, and present him as the "real" Kakashi— all for the reward.

And they find the perfect Kakashi in the shape of one street boy named Sukea

So I'm typing this out and I cant lie, I'm a bit torn between Kakashi as our Anastasia or Sakumo. I think both could make for pretty interesting stories, so lets just do both, actually. For fun.

Kakashi as Anastasia

So like I said, Rin and Obito as Dimitri and Vladimir.

They're scrappy street conmen, and their latest great idea to get the hell out of their shitty situation called life is to make themselves a 'Kakashi' to present to Sakumo and hopefully get the big reward.

This plan sounds pretty shitty, but they have one big advantage— Obito and Rin both actually used to work in the palace, and were there the night the Hatake's fell. In fact, that night Obito actually helped Kakashi and Sakumo both escape through one of the hidden servants halls, set into the wall as a false wall. So he came out of that night knowing how they'd escaped and also holding onto a music box that belonged to Kakashi, which he'd dropped.

Obito's big plan is to use the music box to prove his Kakashi is the real one, as presumably only the real one would have it, especially since he'd had it on that fateful night (till he dropped it anyways)

So, Rin and Obito find Sukea, and they're like "oh man this is perfect, you have the hair and everything!" and Sukea is like "??? who are you people leave me the fuck alone???"

And the thing is, they dont like. Want to tell Sukea they want him to pretend to be Kakashi, bc he'd say no. But they have an advantage bc Sukea just so happens to have a very poor memory of his childhood, is an orphan, and is about the right age! So they instead just begin to gaslight him into believing he really is Kakashi

After a couple roadblocks, this works,,, surprisingly well, actually.

Anyways just Rin, Obito and Sukea road trip to fire country to reunite Sukea with his maybe dad, Sakumo

Over the course of getting there, little bits and pieces of his childhood begins to come back to Sukea. Helped along, ofc, by Obito and Rin feeling his own history to him.

And ofc as Rin and Obito are feeding him this information he's going "omg its all coming back to me,, I remember that guy,, I also remember (thing they never told him about)"

And they're looking nervously at each other like "??? did you tell him that?? I didn't tell him that"

and Sukea is taking to their lessons incredibly easily (almost like he really did this all as a kid, wow how impressive)

And at this point also just, have fun w the Hatake lore. Really get in there, there's a great excuse of Rin and Obito teaching him about his families history.

Uhh fun scene of Obito teaching Sukea to ballroom dance,,,, Rin is playing music for them as Kakashi takes to it like a fish to water, quickly outpacing Obito. Rin is giving a side eye at the romantic tension between them as Obito gets way too flustered as Sukea teases him ab who there is the real dance instructor

It's around this time that Sukea really does become Kakashi, even in his own mind

They arrive in fire country !!!

Obito and Rin are both starting to feel uhh,, a bit of guilt for having so thoroughly gaslit Sukea into thinking he's Kakashi, especially as when they arrive, they are hearing rumors of how there are plenty of other fake Kakashi's hounding Sakumo.

And like. Oh man, if their Kakashi is caught as a fake it'll probably fucking crush him. They've convinced this man that he's going to meet his long-lost father.

But also, hey, if they get him in, everyone's happy, right? Sukea gets a father, Sakumo gets a son, Rin and Obito get their money!

And then they'll split ways. And that's fine. Obito is so fine about that. There's no reason at all why he'd feel bad about having to split up from Kakashi now, like, at all. In the slightest. Shut the fuck up Rin.

(Obito might be starting to catch a feeling or two and its just all a mess. It's a slow moving car crash and they're in too deep to back out now)

So they approach Sakumo— or try to, anyways. Seeing as he's, yk, the last standing Hatake, important guy, all that, they don't get very far. But they do manage to get an audience with one of his servants. Who for this we're going to say is uhhhhhhh

throwing a dart at a board here, yk what? Dan. Sakumo's trusted second in this au is gonna be Dan, Tsunade's dead boyfriend. Good for him.

So they get an audience with Dan, and Obito and Rin are like "omg look its the REAL Kakashi !!!!" and Dan is like "yeah thats what the last 10 "real Kakashi's" all said."

But he starts asking Kakashi questions, ab his history, all that, and it's going pretty well. Kakashi has remembered a lot of this, and had a lot more of it trained into him by Rin and Obito— who are, by the way, also in the room and sweating bullets as the interrogation happens.

But then Dan asks the final question. How did Kakashi get out of the palace that fateful day.

And Obito is like oh fuck I didn't tell him that one. But it's too late, bc Kakashi is thinking it over, and finally Kakashi goes,

"there was this boy,,, and he,, opened up a wall, I think. For us to escape through."

Which, again, Obito never told anyone about.

So Obito is like [incredibly loud 10 car pile up noises] oh FUCK this is THE ACTUAL KAKASHI

but he cant say shit bc the interview is ongoing and hey, good news, they passed!! Dan will go tell Sakumo he has (another) Kakashi here to see him.

So as they wait, Kakashi wanders off for some fresh air and Obito tells Rin what he realized, and Rin is like, oh my GOD????? Oh fuck, we ,,, actually found his family. Obito, we actually found the Hatake heir

and Obito is like I KNOW!!!

and Rin is like Obito, we FOUND THE ACTUAL HATAKE HEIR !!!!!

And Obito is like I KNOW !!!!!!!!!!!

So they're freaking the FUCK out but then Kakashi comes back in and they have to pretend like they weren't hyperventilating 2 seconds ago while Kakashi kinda side eyes them and goes "damn, and I thought I was nervous about this"

So. They are allowed to see Sakumo.

Specifically, Obito is allowed to see Sakumo while Rin and Kakashi wait outside in the hallway.

So Obito is brought in by Dan, whos like,

"hey boss, this is uhh—"

"Uchiha Obito"

"This is Uchiha Obito, he claims to have found Kakashi."

and Sakumo, who is hella depressed and totally sick of this shit, is like "oh great, another one."

and Obito is like, "omg ur uhh. Highness. Majesty. Sir Hatake. Fuck."

And Sakumo is looking at him, very visibly unimpressed, and it's really not helping Obito's nerves right now.

So Obito tries to make his case but Sakumo is frankly just not hearing it— he's seen so many fake Kakashi's and he's just. So tired. He wants to be left alone. His son is dead, he's given up hope.

And suddenly Sakumo is squinting and going, wait what was your name again?

And when Obito tells him, Sakumo is snorting and going "yeah bitch, I've heard of you. Werent you holding auditions for a good person to play Kakashi?"

and Obito kind of bluescreens and is like, "I mean— Yes, but— Listen, you dont understand, this is the real Kakashi!"

And Sakumo is like "Yeah, sure he is kid. I bet you trained him real nice and authentic too. Bet he's very impressive. Get the fuck outta here."

And Dan pushes him out of the room— straight into Kakashi. Who heard everything and has made some pretty damn logical assumptions, and is now totally devastated

So Kakashi Rin and Obito (but mostly Kakashi and Obito) get into a shouting match as Kakashi is just. Devastated. So what, Obito and Rin have been using him this entire time? It was all a lie? They never really thought he was Kakashi, they just played into his vulnerability and desire to know his family, because they wanted the reward money?

And Obito and Rin both are trying to say no, they promise— Or well, at first, but you have to hear them out, he's the real deal!

But they're tripping over their words in their panic and Kakashi— Sukea —isn't hearing it. Isn't interested.

Sukea stomps off, leaving a totally devastated Obito and Rin and a pretty awkward Dan, who just kinda stood by and watched this all happen like "damn, tough luck"

But it's not over yet, Obito and Rin both refuse to let it be over yet. So Rin distracts Dan as Obito proceeds to car jack Sakumo when he goes to leave the opera house this whole thing went down at.

And Sakumo is like "I will literally fucking kill you. Pull the car over NOW." as Obito is absolutely terrified for his life but more determined than ever (and just praying the glass between him and Sakumo protects his ass)

And they finally get to the hotel Kakashi and them had been staying at, and Obito slams the door open and is like "LOOK—"

Sakumo punches him in the face.

Obito is pretty sure his nose just shattered.

Obito tries again, through the blood and pain, with a now harder to understand but no less determined, "LOOK—"

His nonstop determination to be a fucking maniac is impressing Sakumo just a little bit by now, so he decides to see what this loser has to say.

Obito gives Sakumo the music box he picked up from the palace way back in the beginning of all of this, and begs him to just see Kakashi. And Sakumo, sick and tired of all of this but genuinely shaken by the reappearance of his son's music box... agrees.

So! Sakumo heads upstairs to where Kakashi is very angrily packing his shit up, getting ready to haul his ass back to Iron Country, alone. And he knocks on the door and Kakashi shouts at him to go the FUCK AWAY, OBITO !!!! HE DOESNT WANT TO SEE YOUR LYING BITCH ASS EVER AGAIN !!!!!!

And Sakumo is like, "well. You have the attitude to play my son, at least."

And Kakashi freezes and is like, "oh my god Im— Im so sorry. Oh fuck, Im so sorry, why are you here, I— I'm sorry, this is a waste of you time, I never meant to pretend to be your son, I just wanted to know who I was"

And Sakumo just kind of watches him as Kakashi keeps talking, apologizing, cursing Obito and Rin's names both, trying to explain he had no idea that this was supposed to be a con, refusing not to even look at Sakumo.

Kakashi just keeps talking till Sakumo finally interrupts, admitting, "I have to say, you are the most convincing actor I've seen so far."

Kakashi kind of blanks.

They talk.

Kakashi shares things he remembers. Sakumo listens. He tries not to hope, he tries so hard not to hope, but he can't help the feeling that wells up inside of him each passing moment that Kakashi speaks.

This entire time, Kakashi has had a necklace. It's nothing too special; he likes to fidget with it sometimes. He's had it as long as he can remember. It's now, that Sakumo notices it. Asks him what it is.

"What, this?" Kakashi looks at the necklace, which he genuinely forgets he has sometimes. "I've had it since.... forever, I guess."

Sakumo shows him the music box, and immediately, Kakashi knows what to do.

The necklace fits into the music box's lock like it was made to be there. Probably because it was.

Kakashi looks at Sakumo with the same painfully hopeful eyes, the same expression of 'Was this it? Did I do it right?' that he used to aim at his father whenever he learned something new.

Sakumo crumbles.

So!!! Reuinion time !!!! Kakashi and Sakumo both cry, it's a big messy thing, they are very happy. Tears and emotional vulnerability all around.

Rin finally makes it home, looking a little ruffled from some presumed off screen fight between her and some security guards, but fine over all. She approaches Obito, gasping out an urgent, "How did it go?"

Obito doesn't even look at her, only nods up towards the second story window. "Look for yourself."

Rin follows his gaze, greeted with the sight of father in son hugging each other like they were scared the other would disappear if they loosened their grip so much as a single fraction.

"Oh." Rin says, torn between awe and relief.

"Oh." Obito echoes, feeling about the same way.

Later that week, Obito is called in to accept his reward money. He's already discussed it with Rin, and they both agreed— they can't accept it. It... doesn't feel right.

Sakumo is surprised. Impressed, even. He walks Obito out and they pass by Kakashi, who is like, "well have a GREAT life, Obito. With all your stupid REWARD MONEY, since that's all you ever REALLY wanted!"

And Obito doesn't argue, doesn't deny it, just leaves. Figuring it's the best thing he can do for Kakashi. But as he goes, Sakumo turns to Kakashi and is like "yeah so he didnt accept the money lmao"

Kakashi blue screens.

"He,,, didn't accept,,, the money?" Then, what was this all for? What the fuck? Kakashi, above all else, finds himself really fucking mad.

So what. Obito and Rin trick him, lies to him, brings him here under false pretenses that... end up not being so false, if only by chance. Then they have the gall to NOT accept their reward, to return home in defeat, abandoning Kakashi here, like cowardly little BITCHES

Long story short: Kakashi chases after Obito in the street. It's a very busy street, they have a large audience— not that either of them seem to care.

There is screaming. There may be a punch thrown. Possibly two.

In the mess of it all, someone kisses the other. It's unclear who starts it, but the next thing Kakashi knows there are lips on his, teeth clicking angrily against his teeth as they swap from fighting with their fists to fighting in a much less effective way.

When Kakashi drags Obito back inside, his father doesn't look as surprised as Kakashi feels like he should.

Umm then they all lived happily ever after, the end <3

I ended up not really using a Rasputin character for this, which tbh Im ok with. I think the more down to earth take is kinda fun in itself, so I'll stick to it.

Anyways. On the flip side:

Sakumo as Anastasia

I think Sakumo could make a particularly interesting Anastasia in part due to his age. Because where Kakashi is this young man, honestly still probably like 18/19 year old guy, reuniting with his dad, learning about his past, all of that good stuff— Sakumo is in his early 30's, a whole grown man with a child, doing the same thing.

There's no cap on how old you can be to learn about your past or rediscover yourself, and I think Sakumo would make a fun Anastasia for that alone.

Also it's an excuse to use his mother in a plot, lmao

Sakumo has already had Kakashi, so he's like lugging around his 5 year old son with him this entire adventure, which is fun for the both of them.

I think the sanin would make for a very funny Dimitri and Vladimir. It's Jiriyah and Tsunade leading the charge on this excellent get rich quick scheme, Orochimaru is along for the ride

I spent so long on Kakashi as Anastasia, I kind of don't want to go too in depth with a Sakumo as Anastasia au, but like. It could be fun. Obviously, it'd hit p much all the same beats— this is one of those easy AUs that follow the original story pretty much one to one, tho idk if Sakumo's route would include any romance like Kakashi's did

Uhh, Sakumo/Orochimaru anyone I guess? I do love that pairing, it is true

Anyways now I'm watching this and this compellations of Dimitri, picturing him as Obito, Vladimir as Rin, and Anya as Sukea/Kakashi and having way too much fun giggling about it

Final thoughts: Anastasia is an excellent movie, you should watch it.