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itsonlydana · 7 months ago

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Find a cure for my heart | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x human fem!reader 👑

On the eve of the battle, you and Thranduil spent a night that spurred a flurry of letters while Dale grew as a city and you both grew too, first apart, then closer again. However, you couldn't bring yourself to burden him with the truth that your health was deteriorating with each passing day.

warnings/tags: sickness, angst, mentions of death (reader is actively dying but only realizes after Thranduil helps) hurt/comfort, happy end

words: 5,6k

an: finally finished this fic after working on it since January. If you are interested in being tagged when I post new fics– comment that under this post or send it to me in my inbox!

+ masterlist + rules

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Contrary to general belief, the elves did not return to their forests immediately after the battle.

In the stories told, there would be remarks, on how the Elvenking offered his help to the yet-to-be-crowned King Bard once more, bringing aid with however warriors he had left for disposal to search the endless chaos and ruins of Dale for survivors until many sunsets later.

They would speak about the sorrow of losing friends and family and neighbors to a war that had been won at costs no one could comprehend yet, and they would mention how the great Elvenking guided them through the darkest of nights for he had experienced this all before; the grief, the helplessness and the colossal question of What now, who's to say we haven't lost ourselves as well as those we have to bury?

Many had their own experience with the Elvenking, whether it was a hand pulling them off the ground, a loaf of bread delivered to them after days of fighting, or a warm blanket to huddle under to finally lay their body to rest under the watchful eye of Elves that had sworn to protect them.

You had your own story. A different one.

But it wasn't one with the Elvenking, no; the night before the battle, where the air was filled with the sound of blades being sharpened and children crying for their parents, you had met Thranduil, King of the Woodland Elves but most importantly: a set of strong arms that caught you as you stumbled out of Bard's tent.

You needed to run away from the discussions over how to draw the dwarfs out of the mountain.

You'd been a friend to Bard for many long years but standing in that luscious tent, being offered wine as the Wizard, Bard, and the Hobbit pondered over what was about to happen while you weren't sure your mind caught up on what had happened already, there was no room for friendship inside your panic-riddled chest.

Just as you flung open the tent flaps and tried to dash away to get some air, your foot caught on a root, and had it not been for Thranduil's fast reflexes, you surely would've planted your face into the dirt and mud.

Up until now, you had no idea what had transcended between the two of you at the moment where his arms held you up, his softening face looking down at your widened eyes filled with tears and your tongue too tied up and heavy to say anything other than: "Air– please"

Whatever it had been, likely an unspoken wish – by Thranduil or you, or maybe you both; it didn't matter – for someone who would not pass judgment over the urge to disappear from your skin and role and crown for one night, a fallen star flung across the darkened skies at the right time.

It felt as though Thranduil had pulled a sheet over your heads; your world narrowed down to this other soul and how beautiful and divine his body felt on yours as you found a way to survive the night before life as you knew it turned once more and the solid ground beneath your feet shifted and broke.

A few nights, while unforgettable and brooding with feelings neither of you admitted to, did not change that you had to move on somehow.

Although the Elves did not depart for Mirkwood immediately and Thranduil and you were given time in the aftermath to find the other in the cover of the night and under the pretense this was nothing more than mere distraction, a wishing star could only do so much shining before dimming out.

The day you awoke to a sunrise bathing the debris of Dale in a pinkish and warm light, pillars being rebuilt dipped into molten gold, and the cracks glued together, Thranduil's strong arms were wrapped around your middle as if he wanted to hinder you from sneaking away, you knew it was him who would leave you before the day was over.

And so he did.

Sunrise came and went and soon enough all the tents were packed up on horseback and wagons, leaving flattened grass as the only reminder they had been there at all if and there were goodbyes, political between Bard and the Elvenking who parted from the weary man and his children with the promise of support, and between you and Thranduil in the form of a slow nod.

Thranduil sat high on a dark stallion, dressed in silver and long robes that hid fingerprints that spoke of an attempt to cling to transience. His chin lowered, though his eyes were fixed on you.

You knew that nod carried the conversation you had whispered into the morning mist.

And it was all that wasn't said that motivated you to step away first and turn your back on the caravan that took away a King and a Lover.

There was much to do, the looming task of building up Dale needed everyone's full attention, and that included you.

Especially you.

There were houses to plan, accommodations to be made so that no one needed to sleep under the stars.

No one could ever pry the reason why you were keen on getting a roof under everyone out of your hands; a lonely part of you wanted the stars to remember you and Thranduil lying in the grass. And no one else.

The first letter arrived a few weeks after you hadn't had the heart to watch him go and threw yourself into one task after the other, dismissing even the smallest hint of sickness, like the heaviness inside your chest every time you lifted something heavy, or tiredness crashing down onto you in moments to catch your breath, to continue working, that you wouldn't find a moment to admit how much you missed him.

That utterly ridiculous mindset stopped as soon as the messenger Elf rode into the city and hand-delivered you the first of many envelopes with the nearly indecipherable handwriting of Thranduil.

Or the Elvenking.

Because the first letter, despite being addressed to you as well as Bard, who wouldn't have been able to read it in the first place, was a list of things the King would send and a question of what else was needed that he could provide.

"It's fine," you said to Bard through a smile that didn't reach your eyes as you read aloud the letter twice, from the greeting to the last paragraph that was signed 'the Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion, Lord of Mirkwood and friend of Dale'.

In the flickering light of the candle dripping wax onto the table between you, the dark circles under Bard's eyes were all the more prominent than when he was running around the city and there was a bottomless pit in your stomach that wouldn't want to add to the many things he was already worrying about.

"It's totally fine," you said to Bard when he asked if you had skipped over a private note from Thranduil or if there truly wasn't one (there wasn't, you had turned the letter over and over in your hands until the edges became soft and wrinkled) and you both knew that to be a lie.

You answered the letter in the same professional manner because even though you wanted to, you couldn't send a letter to a King helping however he could and expecting nothing in return with a smeared "I wish for your heart and our nights and for your voice to tell me we are alright" written under tears in another sleepless night.

The next few letters follow the same pattern, Elvenking Thranduil Oropherion would inquire if there was anything Dale needed and answer Bard's question on leadership and share his knowledge of what was fundamental for a new King, and you would write for Bard on the other side.

The weeks passed and so did the hope of rekindling that fire you had thought to burn in the both of you.

That Thranduil didn't see the need to reach out was a punch to the gut that left little room for anything else but disappointment of putting your effort into pulling on a rope that wasn't attached to something on the other end.

Why waste the dwindling energy of your exhausted body on someone who would live longer than the memory of you?

Every time a new letter arrived by messenger you would find Bard until one late evening you opened the letter by yourself and saw your name written in that beautiful sharp handwriting, not Bard's added in front or behind; only your given name and not your title.

Your hands shook as you stood in the frame of what was to be your house and the ink glued together the cracks of your heart.

'Forgive me for not writing to you sooner and for how sentimental I must sound. It has been weeks since I last saw you and every time I wander through my familiar halls, I find there is no soul around that could understand me how you did, whom I could tell what plagues my mind. The time we spent together has not left my thoughts. Neither has the promise to not grow apart too much and I apologize for not contributing to that. Now, if you would still have me, I would like nothing more than to hear how you are faring. As for me…'

Nothing had the power to stop you from running off that giddy feeling that spread through your chest as Thranduil, finally Thranduil, wrote about the happenings in Mirkwood; not even the cough that sat deep where suppressed laughter spilled into the grass you fell into– the letter clutched into your hands.

Thranduil and you fell into a routine then, one that was no obstruction for the many tasks at hand but made room for each other to hold on to the promise.

You would send out two letters, one on behalf of Bard whom you taught his signature as well as a few more words every fortnight you sat down together, and one addressed to Thranduil, filled with all the thoughts that ran through your mind that you wanted to tell him.

It was by no means as precious as the talks you had now many weeks ago, not when there were days you had to wait for a response instead of seconds.

You appreciated them all the same, every bit of himself that Thranduil wrote into his messages was countered with a confession of your own.

When he said he wished to know where his son had disappeared to or rather if he followed the direction Thranduil had given to him, you admitted to the nightmares that still plagued your mind, the dreams of fire and a monster that still rested in the lake.

You offered piece after piece, chipped bits of your heart into every letter that you sent away, and after a few weeks had passed, and Dale was taking shape with its houses raking their roofs to the sky and its people planting seeds and flowers, rooting themselves into what now was theirs, there was not much left of your heart that was completely yours and not Thranduil's and the letters of his proved that the same could be said about him.

What you did not mention, not with one drop of ink, was that the nightmares were no longer confined to the few hours of sleep you fell into.

There was a dragon, not just in the cold lake where your old home lay in ashes and was drowned in the ruthless darkness, but by the heavy weight on your chest, it felt like there was one inside you as well.

You were coughing as if there was smoke blocking your lungs, blackening out what little air you heaved for when a coughing fit took over your whole body.

It started small, a cough then, a sleepless night there; both accumulated to an uncountable amount and it got only worse as the season changed and the autumn winds lost their last warm touches and the trees bared their wooden arms.

You waved it off as a common cold, nothing that would hinder you from your tasks to becoming a liability the city didn't need in its time of growth.

Then, the coughing got worse, rougher, sometimes taking your voice for a moment until you found some water although that only helped for a small moment, like trying to extinct a burning building with just the water your bare hands could carry.

The worst part was the blood that stained the cloths, the sweats that not only held you awake at night but weakened you at day as well.

"I'm better!" you promised Bard on a night when he had to sit next to your bed, wringing out the cold cloths that lay on your fevered forehead.

His voice was a low whisper when he dabbed away the sweat, pushing your wet hair back with hands that were far too gentle for what you deserved for rotting in bed and not pulling your weight, "You're not, an' that's clear for everyone but you. Did you tell him?"

"Yes," you lied through your teeth, eyelids dropping close from exhaustion but you knew sleep wouldn't come, "he said it would pass, nothing to worry 'bout."

Three days later you were on your legs again, if not a bit shaky and needing more breaks than ever.

You sat in Bard's kitchen, a warm bowl of soup in front of you that tasted like ash and firewood, and ignored the silent pleading in his eyes to tell him what was going on and why you could barely lift the spoon of a soup that you clearly did not enjoy.

Winter wore your body down like rough sandpaper on soft oak, the cold winds and dark hours an enemy far worse than what you had to encounter on the battlefield. This had no logical explanation, nor was there an enemy you could see.

Your own body betrayed you and you had no idea what you had done to deserve it.

You knew that somewhere was a solution to it all, that was the string of hope leading you through the snow outside and the fire in your blood and bones, singing down what little fight was left on the days when the sun pushed away gray clouds and you felt normal and healthy.

The sole reason why you lied in letters filled with otherwise honesty as pure as heaven's snowflakes was that you did not want to be a bother.

Thranduil wrote how much of his time the dwarfs and their trading demands swallowed; he did not need another burden and you would be damned if he came because you had a small cold you couldn't get rid of.

You had promised Thranduil to visit him in spring when the soil was rich enough for the seed to take and the livestock could roam the meadows. If you weren't better by then you would ask him.

Until then work demanded all of you. Even if that was through a white knuckle grip on the last bits of health in aching bones.

⸺

Spring brought forth daffodils pushing through the cobblestone streets. Tilda, the youngest Bardling and a wonderful distraction on the days when getting out of bed was the hardest bounced excitedly beside you and pointed at the flowers.

"Like stubborn trumpets proclaiming winter is finally over!" she said as you followed her outside. "Spring is finally here!"

You disregarded the pain echoing through your body, the weight of guilt forcing you to spend the day with the girl.

She had been knocking on your door every morning, angelic eyes asking if you wanted to come and play with the lambs that she had taken too and this morning, you couldn't disappoint her.

"Aren't they just so pretty?" Tilda crouched down, gently cupping one of the blossoms in her small hands.

Lowering your gaze from the burning brightness of the sun you got a short glimpse at the yellow dots decorating your doorstep.

Then, suddenly, black spots appeared on the edge of your vision, taking you by surprise though they have been your companion for the better part of the last few days.

"Tilda–"

You tried to hold on to your doorframe, bruised hands frantically searching for a grip on the warm wood but they slipped and caught only the edge.

The last thought that crossed your mind was that you should bring Thranduil some of those flowers before you blinked and crumbled to the ground.

⸺

You woke up to the confusing taste of grass on your heavy tongue and the dizzying realization that you were not spread out on the street but tugged inside your bed.

Above you, moonlight fell through the opened window in the slanted roof above your head and you immediately closed your eyes again.

This had to be a dream.

Though your dreams had not been like this in a long time.

Peaceful. Comfortably warm. Silent except for the croaking of toads, the buzzing of insects outside, and the laughter and clattering of your neighbors probably enjoying the night more than you.

A groan passed your lips as you tried to sit up; a seemingly impossible task with the heaviness of your bones as well as the mountain of blankets that covered you.

"What do you think you are doing?" a voice you knew all too well sneered.

For a second you thought it to be a hallucination, a projection or your dazed mind still lulled in the fog of unconsciousness.

The bones in your neck cracked as your head snapped to the other side. There was no way you did not imagine the tall figure that should be across the woods in his palace; not in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Merely strolling through the neighborhood," Thranduil's voice dripped with sarcasm, yet a subtle tension marked his stance beside the bed. "Now, enlighten me. Did you conveniently forget to mention this sickness in your letters?"

Ah, straight to the point.

"It's trivial," you waved it off, attempting to assert yourself by sitting up.

Naturally, consciousness promptly slipped away once more.

This time you were not that surprised by the sharp taste of grass on your lips when you came to your senses once more, pushed back into the pillows that had never felt this stuffed. You were still unable to move your leg more than from one side to the other under the blankets and Thranduil was still there, glaring at you through dark furrowed brows and hardened eyes.

You wanted to say something to break the heavy silence but all that passed your lips was a giggle that was more desperate and closer to insane than amusement.

One brow lifted. "Oh, how glad I am you are entertained by this," said Thranduil. He was as rigid in a frightening calm way but all of that was overshadowed by the cloud of confusion that muddled your thoughts.

"Noo," you drew out the word and continued giggling. This had to be insanity. "You jus' look very out of place here – wait. Turn around? I need to make sure you're really here."

He didn't fit into the cramped space of your house, his fine clothing stood out against the poor backdrop of crooked furniture, used towels hanging over stools, and the small layer of dust that covered the areas you hadn't been able to clean in a while; which was most of the bedroom and you didn't dare think about the state of the kitchen.

Where he deserved a throne out of gold you could only offer the chair next to your bed, the one that was crooked and leaned heavily to one side.

That being said, nothing took away the sheer amount of power he radiated.

It easily filled every nook and cranny or tight corner of your humble house, his voice as well as the image of Thranduil, King of the Elves, towering over your bed in long robes and bathed in the light of the night sky, glittering silver like the moon knew the importance of the Elf in front of you.

Thranduil remained stoically still. "I will definitely not do that," he said. "I am here. Where I should have been a while ago."

The accusation would have hit harder if you weren't drugged up on whatever medicine he had apparently fed you while you were out cold.

You shrugged your shoulders as well as you could with your arms bundled under the blankets. "I saw no reason, it was just a cold. Nothing I couldn't manage."

Well, you hadn't managed to handle it, that was the worst realization of the whole lie.

"Clearly," Thranduil said sarcastically and ground his teeth against each other. His arms were behind his stiff back and the way he tilted his head down to you made you feel like a child being admonished for bad behavior. "Do you know how much despair I felt when Bard's letter arrived this morning?" His voice was even but there was a resonance in it – a deep rumble akin to the ominous approach of distant thunderstorms over the sea. "Nearly indecipherable scrambles where he begged me to come; telling me that you have been asleep for two whole days?"

A crack in the form of a small tremor broke through the mask of the all-mighty Elvenking.

"This morning?" you asked, caught up by the first part and ignorant of everything that followed after, and you huffed while running the calculations through your head. "Thranduil, this can not be, the journey is not manageable in one day."

"Is this truly the point you consider most important?" He closed his eyes as a pained expression passed over his face. "You deem it impossible, yet I assure you, nothing could have hindered my arrival here; the boundaries of possibility, for once, were not a barrier but an aid. It reveals your scant regard for your circumstance if your worry fixates on my journey through the land. Not on the sickness that nearly stole you from this world. Two days –" Thranduil took a deep breath, "two whole days where those around you had no idea if you would ever awake again."

"But –"

"No, you can speak when I am finished," he commanded sharply. "You were reckless. Ignorant of your health as if your life was not precious." Thranduil spat the words out cold yet they burned. He was blind to the way you flinched and lowered your burning eyes to the blankets.

You shrunk deeper into the pillows, a hollow ache inside your chest that had felt empty from the pain ever since you awoke the first time.

"But –" you repeated helplessly. This time, he allowed you to continue and you did so in a whisper: "I didn't want to be an inconvenience."

"An inconvenience?" he sneered back at you, the flickering lights of a few burned-down candles casting shadows over the creases of anger edged into alabaster skin.

He took a step toward the bed and you saw a twitch in his lips that had you blanching.

The fury brooding inside him was not new, you had seen it on the battlefield before. In ice-cold cuts of his sword as he flawlessly executed the most brutal movements while his face resembled a mask of the most dangerous kind of rage – stillness.

Now, there remained little of that stillness.

"You were a greater inconvenience by nearly throwing away your precious mortal life, all because of your unfathomable stubbornness!"

"There was lots to do!" you snapped back. Shortly but surely, you were fed up with his anger and the insults he was throwing at you. "This town was suffering far more than me and don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," you had to bury your teeth into your lower lip to stop it from shaking. "Dale needed me!"

The pale skin was flushed red around his heaving chest and delicate ears. "And I do not?" Thranduil road and his voice boomed through your little bedroom loud enough for the cicadas outside to fall silent.

Immediately, your eyes watered. You felt trapped under his gaze, engulfed in pure heat hotter than any dragon fire.

You searched for a response inside you but found none.

All there was was chaos – the loud beating of your heart against your chest like iron being beaten and shaped though all that was formed was pain sharp like a sword edge; cutting through the layers of protection you had wrapped around your heart.

Thranduil slightly lifted his nose, staring down at you through thick eyebrows and a clenched jawline. "You were dying," he said and his nostrils quivered. "I can not fathom how you through that would not have been a greater inconvenience.

His expressions made up in sound for the lowered voice he'd used to speak about what you previously refused to acknowledge.

Never before had you seen him this out of control of his emotions, not even on the nights he had bedded you where he still had a hold on himself.

The way he stood before you, dressed in fine robes not fit for riding, the hem of them stained by dirt, his boots muddy, and his face full of anguish, it was as if he could have been kneeling at your feet.

You ignored the tears slipping silently down your cheeks. "It wasn't that bad, was it?"

"It was indeed, and far beyond that."

The tears made it impossible for you to continue looking at him and your head dropped down as a sob broke through you. "I didn't know," you panicked, "It didn't happen fast so… so I thought it'd pass but – and then it got worse and worse and I was so afraid to speak to anyone about it." The words tumbled into your lap, where, under the blankets, your hands were balled to fists now that the strength to do so had returned to your body, "I – I couldn't," the night air stung as your breaths turned into gasps, "They – Bard was exhausted and –"

Thranduil's face softened ever so slightly, pushing away the furious frown. "You are too pure for this world," he said quietly and – dealing a fatal blow to your ever-fragile heart – slowly went down on one knee next to the bed until you were eye to eye and his cold long fingers could gently caress your wet cheek.

He stopped, most of his fingers covered in the glistening tears he'd freed you from and his thumb rested on the plushness of your lower lip. "The world would have lost its sunshine had you perished," his robes rustled as he drew closer, silver hair falling onto the blankets like stars flying across the skies, "You must promise me to be more careful or darkness shall be my companion from that day on."

How could you do anything else but break into tears once more?

They flooded your face too fast for Thranduil to catch them with his hand and he did what seemed more reasonable yet utterly out of character: he rose to push away some of the blankets and sat down on the mattress.

While his face showed some revelation of his thoughts at the meek bed of hay that surprised him, he said nothing except for a lowered: "Hush now, shh." while his arms found your shaking body and pulled you into his side.

He cradled you until there were no more tears to cry, until your cheeks hurt and your lashes clung together awfully damp, and then some more, his hands on your back, cooling down the firing heat that spread through you and the other in your hair. With tenderness, he massaged his fingertips into the areas where your head throbbed uncomfortably.

You cried for all the nights where you had suffered, drawing closer to a death you hadn't seen coming.

You cried out of relief that this was finally over, that you could breathe and inhale only the rich scents of Thranduil instead of smoke.

You sobbed uncontrollably long into the night, not caring one bit that by the time the wailing grew quiet and exhaustion rendered you weak enough to fall into his chest even more, Thranduils robes needed to be padded dry.

"Thranduil?" you asked and burrowed your nose into a spot of fabric that wasn't salty. "Can you tell me what was happening to me?"

He didn't start directly. Thranduil waited, his heart stuttering for a second that made you marvel that the muscle was affected by you at all despite the many proofs he had laid to your feet.

Were it not for the pounding headache you fostered and tried to push away by shutting away all the lights and leaving your eyes closed, you would have looked at his face to check for those minuscule expressions he only showed to you.

"At first I could not figure it out," Thranduil admitted at last and his previously stilled hand continuing the circular movements against your scalp, gathering hair between his fingers, "and that frightened me more than anything else. There was not a scratch or a wound, nothing that explained why you were hardly–" he flinched and his other hand held your waist tighter, "hardly breathing. Bard was the one who explained how much you fought against this illness all winter, ever since autumn to be precise. He spoke of the meals you denied, the coughing and shaking, the blood-soaked cloths, and how.. how you rarely slept and if you did, he told me he heard your whimpers and sobs whenever he passed your door."

"He noticed it all?"

"He loves you," Thranduil said, "He loves you just as much as his offspring."

You shut your eyes even closer, turning your head more into his chest as another layer of protection against the feeling of pain that flinched over your face like a stone skipping on water, leaving ripples of agony at the memory of the many times Bard had pleaded you to talk to him. "I never wanted him to hurt at my expense."

"He is aware you thought it to be better this way," Thranduil lovingly stroked your hair – and it was love, soft and beautiful like the elf who abandoned his kingdom to race to save you – "To go against his word to you declares him a strong man and leader, Dale will flourish under his guide and your gentle hand will provide your people all they will ever need."

"So what was it?" you asked the question eating away at you, "This sickness?"

Thranduil's fingers twirled a lock of hair as he hummed lowly, "The beast in the lake is at fault," he said, "and its body infesting the in any case dirty water that you used to still your thirst."

You lifted your head at that, staring up at Thranduil whose gaze was already on you. "The dragon?" you repeated perplexed, "I got sick because of that damned dragon?"

Thranduil nodded, "I sent out the order to have its carcass removed this instant, so no one else has to suffer this fate."

You drew your eyebrows together, the hard crease between them immediately found by Thranduil for him to smooth the frown away with his thumb and a soft click of his tongue.

"So I was the only one?" The conclusion was confirmed by another nod that sent you down another spiral of confusing thoughts and loose threats of a riddle that made no sense to you.

"A mystery," Thranduil said as if he could read your thoughts, "There is no explanation as to why you solely were affected and quite intense at that. I was glad to have brought Asëa aranion with me – although you required more than a handful until your heart finally calmed."

In a moment of contemplating silence, you barely managed to stifle a yawn.

Now that your body seemed to be fine again, all your muscles yearned for the sleep that had evaded you for the longest time.

Thranduil's pleasantly warm body around you lulled you into a state of calmness, his body heat and the memories of his touch you replaced with the feeling of his strong chest in your back, and his hands threading hair through his fingers.

He was curled up in your bed, in your home, not some tent under the stars though you could see them if you looked up and through the window.

As you did so, your eyes didn't travel further than Thranduil and the watchful look on his face.

"You're as beautiful as the day you left," you remarked in a whisper like a slip of your tongue but you meant every word.

While your body ached and wore new scars his hands and mouth hadn't explored yet, he could've been away for a day or less.

You lifted a hand to stroke over his left cheek, over the faint scarred muscles that you knew by whispers hid what he deemed hideous.

Thranduil caught your hand before it reached his cheekbones and his lips pressed a light kiss against the calluses, the signs of hours of work.

"Rest, meleth nîn, you need it."

There was no denying that the elvish words had meant something important, that was clear by the way his tongue had wrapped around the words and breathed them out like a kiss but his lowered lashes and downturned lips hindered you from asking what he had said.

This was not the time to question what was probably just for him.

Later, when you were not falling into the depths of sleep cuddled against Thranduil's chest, when you would step outside your house with his looming presence in your back ready to help you with every foot you set on the grounds, there would be stories awaiting you.

Stories of the Elvenking storming into the city on horseback and all alone, the wind seemingly carrying him faster than possible and the fury and worry on his face lowered all citizens to the grounds as he yelled for their King.

They would speak about the way he nearly broke down Bard's door and how he carried your unconscious body in his arms to your house, demanding for the crowd to make themselves rare before he had them all seized and locked into his halls for obstructing his path; and even though he had no authority, Bard was close on his heels and no one dared to object.

You would hear about the day he sat by your side, caring for you and barking out orders for more water, not the one from the lake but from the springs, and how Bard and his children were the only ones allowed to visit – explaining the yellow flowers that took up every single glass your house had to offer.

Thranduil would tell you the meaning of the words he had said that first night he had spent in your bed, fully awake and watching your sleeping form in his lap until the birds woke you up in the morning; and he would say these words on all the nights that followed.

With him in Dale, or you in Mirkwood – never apart from then on.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #king of mirkwood #the hobbit x you #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit fanfiction

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brainddeadd · 1 month ago

Text

Devils in Her Corner

Jack Hughes x fem!reader, Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Luke Hughes x fem!reader, Dawson Mercer x fem!reader, Trevor Zegras x fem!reader, Matt Rempe x fem!reader, Matthew Kines x fem!reader, Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Drafted to the New Jersey Devils alongside Luke Hughes, a young, talented hockey player is determined to make her mark in the NHL. Having already survived the pressures of college hockey at UMich, she steps into the spotlight once again—only this time, the stakes are higher.

With old friends like Luke by her side and a newfound support system in Nico Hischier, Jack Hughes, and Dawson Mercer, she learns that success on the ice is only part of the battle. Off the ice, she navigates growing bonds, locker-room banter, and the challenges of being one of the only women in a male-dominated sport.

Meanwhile, connections with familiar faces—like Trevor Zegras and Matthew Knies—blur the lines between friendship and something more, while Matt Rempe, once a friend, now a rival, ensures every game against the Rangers feels personal. In the midst of competition, camaraderie, and a spark of romance, she discovers that finding her place in the NHL might be her biggest challenge yet.

With the Devils in her corner, she’s ready to take on whatever comes her way—on and off the ice.

Day one of training

Someone hits her hard on ice

Bad day

Sick day

All Star

Summer with the Devils Boys: Lake House Shenanigans - summer shenanigans

Loss

Meeting Quinn

Haunted house

Popcorn and panic

Halloween party 2024

Halloween party 2024 no.2

Thanksgiving

Deck the Malls with Chaos and Hockey Boys

Lights, Chaos, Action: The New Jersey Devils Christmas Movie Marathon

Christmas Chaos with the New Jersey Devils

New Year’s Eve

Valentine’s Day

Rivalries and mixed feelings

Caught in the crossfire

Online hate

The interview

Yn's Birthday

Rivalries and dinner

Dropping gloves

Bar creeps and protection squad

Fights and firsts

First kiss aftermath

First Date

Secrets, Freak-Outs, and Confessions

Support and shovel talks

Between Rivalries and Romance: A Shovel Talk Initiation

Cuddles

Realisations

Through the dark

The cancer game

A Day With Trevor

Support

Halloween party 2025

// upcoming chapters //

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thelightsandtheroses · 6 months ago

Text

everywhere, everything | jm x female reader [au]

Summary: In recent months, the bar your family has owned for generations has changed. Now it can't keep a bouncer beyond one shift, attracts the 'wrong' crowd, and is an albatross around you and your cousin's neck. Your cousin's latest hire, Joel Miller, seems like he might just survive the shift and as time passes, you can't help but want to know him more. AKA the Bouncer!Joel fic Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence, RoadHouseBouncer!Joel AU, no outbreak, no specified age but reader has a cousin and inferred (not detailed) family deaths in the past, flirting, smut (p in v), Joel Miller is his chaotic self, mentions of death of a child (canon), many scenes set in a bar and mentions of alcohol or drinking, your standard lolabee flangst and introspection, reader mentions music, singing and playing guitar. Notes: So much appreciation for encouraging me to write this fic goes to @trulybetty for listening toand supporting my ideas and @rhoorl. Watching the new Road House movie at the same time as starting TLOU games led to this idea I couldn't let go of. Fic title isfrom the Noah Kahan song of the same name.

It’s starting to weigh on you.

You see it in your cousin more though; the weariness in her eyes as the local gangs come in and inevitably cause trouble. Both of you know where it comes from, the reasons behind it, why it’s so much worse for your roadhouse than anywhere else in the town.

Most days, you want to leave and sell up. Sometimes a fight is too much, it isn’t worth the cost, there’s too high a loss, too tiresome a battle. Everything your cousin possesses is tied up in the bar though. It’s not that simple for her and you won’t walk away from your family. You can’t.

The two of you cannot be the ones who let decades of your family’s legacy just wash away to nothing.

That was why your cousin had started with the bouncers in the first place. The two of you can only afford one, but it’s a small building, a small town.

“This one will be different,” your cousin says with a firm nod and smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. “I just know he will. He’s new in town, he starts tonight and he - when you meet him, you’ll see what I mean.”

You don’t say that she said the same thing about the last bouncer - what was his name? Dave, or Frankie, or something like that. You’ve stopped learning their names now - it’s pointless when they never last longer than a few days.

The bar is still quiet; tinny music coming through the speakers as you finish unloading the clean glasses from the dishwasher.

“Are you playin’ tonight?” she asks.

“Might do. If the crowd let me,” you say, smiling at your cousin gently. It’s a joke now; the bar hasn’t been safe enough in months for that.

It used to be your favourite thing about this place; the music, the ability to perform songs and transport yourself to what could have been, what could be. It might not be Nashville, or the Sofi stadium, but it’s the closest you think you’ll ever get to feeling like a real musician. And now you don’t even have that.

“Good, they will. It’s going to be a good one tonight, you’ll see.”

The new bouncer is called Joel but your cousin calls him by his surname: Miller.

He’s quiet, not like the other one. Instead of stalking around and flexing, Miller sits in the corner of the bar, perched on a stool and staring into a cup of coffee as though it would answer all his queries about the universe.

You feel bad about the coffee; you should have warned him that it’s truly awful, pointed him in the direction of the small diner ten minutes away that serves some of the best coffee in the whole state. You think your own coffee isn’t too bad either; perfected and tweaked over years to figure out the perfect combination of beans and grind to bring the best out of your worn moka pot.

“Next time, I’d go for water,” you say lightly as you approach his side of the bar. It’s still quiet for this time of the evening but the trouble doesn’t usually start until after ten anyway.

“Oh, yeah?”

“I’m not sure we can even legally call this coffee. I think there’s more caffeine in the Kahlua.”

“You have Kahlua?” Miller asks.

“It’s a very old bottle, I really wouldn’t risk it.” You try and remember the last time someone ordered a drink with it here but it’s hazy. The Bar doesn’t exactly attract people for its cocktail list anymore.

“Pity.”

“I can get you a water if you’d prefer. Or something else?”

“It’s fine.” You notice Miller has pushed the cup slightly away from him though. He eyes it with mild disgust and you feel suddenly even more worried for him. If he can’t handle the coffee, he surely won’t be able to handle the patrons.

“You’re Joe, right?”

“Joel,” he corrects instantly.

“Joel, right. Sorry.”

“Are there that many of us passin’ through, that you don’t learn the names properly now? Is that why your boss calling me Miller?” He doesn’t know who you are, that’s clear. He doesn’t know it’s your family’s legacy here too and you’re not just a bartender. This place matters to you.

“It’s only your first shift.”

Joel sighs and meets your gaze. His eyes are deep brown and you take in the slight salt and pepper to his stubble, the surprisingly comfortable looking plaid flannel he’s wearing. At the same time, you notice the stoniness in his posture, the wariness in his eyes.

He isn’t spoiling for a fight because he lives for them, not like the other bouncers your cousin has hired.

You’ve already realised that Joel Miller fights in an entirely differently way to his predecessors. You can tell his biggest battles aren’t the ones in a bar like this. Without projecting too much, you think they’re probably inside his mind. No one has haunted eyes like that without a story. You’re a bartender, you can just tell.

“What have you have been told about this gig? Do you know what you’re getting into?”

“I know this place has some troubles,” he says carefully.

“I’ll say.”

You remember when things were different in the town, in the bar. It wasn’t like this back then. It used to be for families. Your aunt once joked that your dad’s cooking could bring the entire town together. It’s been a long time since the place was known for a family meal though.

You grew up with laughter and joy inside these walls. Now, it feels like it must have happened somewhere else entirely. This bar is still where you ran in after being asked on your first date ever, where you opened your SAT results, studied while the bar was closed, had every family significant gathering or event you can remember.

This isn’t just a job for you.

“How long have you been here? No offence, but you don’t seem the type -”

“It’s my family’s bar. Your boss you mentioned, she’s my cousin. The two of us run it these days, well I mean, I only help out. It’s her bar now more than mine but it’s been our family’s place for generations. We’re what’s left.” All that’s left.

“I didn’t know. I wasn’t - I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“Of course, Miller.” His words weren’t meant with offence but he had still managed to pick at your vulnerability that you don’t truly belong and cut at your soul.

Your family never thought you’d keep up with the bar, your cousin was the clear front runner to inherit it and you supported that. You wanted to leave your hometown, that had never been a secret and your childhood bedroom had been covered in posters and postcards for exciting and different places.

Once, you dreamt of Nashville, of music venues and guitar calloused hands playing idle melodies as a tour bus drove you to your next city across a starlit sky.

Life had different plans for you thought.

“This town didn’t used to be like this,” you add, “We’ve had a lot of bad luck and - the whole town is suffering. You wouldn’t have recognised this place if you passed through even just a few years ago.”

”I’m -“

The door to the bar crashes open before Joel can finish his sentence. You notice the first of the regular troublemakers walking in and warily look around the bar. You can tell by their posture, the look on their face exactly what type of night it’s going to be.

“Looks like your work will be getting started soon, Miller. I’d drink up.”

He might just survive his first shift. That’s annoying - you have five bucks counting on him either walking out or be stretchered out like any of the bouncers by the end of the night.

You try and pay attention to your surroundings. It’s sensible in your line of work. For so many people that line between a good night and becoming the worst version of themselves is wafer thin and you’re often the first line of defence, you’re the one who has to say when someone’s not being served anymore.

Your cousin is in the back office, trying to sort out the multitude of paperwork that comes with owning a bar or business that nobody ever thinks about.

He’s calm, polite even for the most part.

He doesn’t escalate the situation, not like some of the bouncers who have spent a shift here recently. Mostly he sits and observes. His calmness is almost disconcerting and contrasts sharply with the danger in his posture, the readiness to move he’s concealing.

There hasn’t been too much trouble so far tonight; a mild fight which was easily taken outside but you can feel the tension in the air.

“Can I get ‘nother whiskey?” Robert slurs. He’s a regular to the bar now and has a particular penchant for not being able to handle his alcohol, being very resentful at being cut off, and worse of all never has enough money to cover his bill or damages.

“I think you’re done for tonight,” you say lightly.

“Nah, I say when I’m done.”

“Not according to the liquor licence,” you snark back.

“Look, just pour me -”

“You’re done.”

“You’re such a fucking bitch.” Robert slams his fist down on the bar.

“I think it’s time to go,” Joel says politely, suddenly standing next to Robert in the bar. You’re not sure if he’ll last as a bouncer here but you’ll give him points for stealthiness. You hadn’t even heard him approaching.

“I think -“ Robert starts before pulling a sloppy punch. Joel easily dodges it, raising his eyebrow incredulously at Robert.

“C’mon, now, it’s time to go.”

He places a hand on Robert’s shoulder and guides him out. You’re struck that he didn’t escalate the situation - that was the last bouncer’s mistake. What he hadn’t counted on was what Robert is a mean drunk and often gets a second wind of energy.

Joel walks back up to you at the bar. “The way people talk about this place. That wasn’t so -“

“That, Miller, that was nothing.”

You watch as another troublemaker, Owen, walks in, all biker vest and swagger. It’s never a good night when he’s here. Usually his presence signals a full moon style night of fights, shouting and misery. He hasn’t been in for weeks to your joy; you’d heard a rumour he was in jail. Not any more though.

“Miller you see now the trouble’s really going to start. That wasn’t even your warmup.”

Sunlight streams through the window as you finish wiping over the table. It’s your favourite time of day in the bar. Your cousin is catching up on admin, sleep and supplier deliveries, the bar is empty and it’s just you, the stereo and sunlight.

You can’t help but lose yourself in the music just for a moment. You love this song, the beat, the lyrics, the way it ebbs and flows in all the right places. Music is magic.

You’re not in a rundown bar, not weighed down by obligation and memories and self-doubt. You’re not here, you’re somewhere else. In a city, in a crowd, on a stage or even just dancing around somewhere else. You’re lighter and freer and desperate for the song to continue just a little more as you spin around, humming along with the lyrics.

You hear the door open and turn around quickly. You heard about the diner getting robbed a couple of weeks ago. You should have locked the door.

Miller’s there, some light discolouration to his jaw from the one punch he didn’t dodge, but otherwise intact.

“You seem surprised to see me,” he says.

“You’ve cost me five bucks,” you reply simply.

He raises an eyebrow, “Didn’t think I could hack it*?*”

“The odds are the odds.”

“Well, I’m sorry about your money.”

“Yep, that five bucks was my ticket out of this town,” you joke.

“Not sure that would even cover a bus ticket,” he replies dryly.

“Maybe the coffee for on the bus?”

“Maybe.”

“So, day two,” you say awkwardly, swinging your arms around you and then immediately wondering why on earth you did that. You busy yourself by turning down the speakers.

“Yep,” Miller says casually, sitting on a bar stool.

“Have - are you hungry?” you ask, suddenly conscious that it’s lunchtime and Joel not doubt has another difficult day ahead.

“I could eat.”

”It’s nothing fancy, because the kitchen’s not open, but it is homemade - well, it was. I froze it but it’s defrosted and it’s really good. Also, frozen food still retains its nutrients well, and in the case of cake, freezing it makes it even better.”

“I see.” Miller pauses, “It’s not cake, is it? I don’t think I can eat frozen cake before a shift. ”

“No,” you argue, “it’s Tuesday, that’s what we’d do on a Wednesday! Today it’s lasagne.”

Miller smiles then. It’s a good smile. Slightly crooked and his eyes crease a little, the way you always associate someone smiling when they mean it. His deep eyes are momentarily lighter, there’s a change in him.

You want to tease more smiles out of this man, want to identify each and every changed in his face or the way his hands tap against the old bar. You want to keep him like this, bask in the glow that you’ve bought that expression to his face.

“Lasagne sounds great,” he says after a moment.

“Sure, okay, Miller. Coming right up.”

“Call me Joel. Please.”

“Okay, Joel.”

You like how his name sounds against your teeth, the way he smiles once more when you say his name.

It becomes a habit. Joel survives shift after shift and inevitably turns up to the bar early the following day when you’re there.

He’s lasted longer than fourteen bouncers now. He might just make it. He’s quiet, yes, but you’ve seen the violence in his movements when needed, the way he tries to be polite and then it’s over, then it’s a line. There’s something that compels and terrifies you about the violence he holds, its contradiction because he speaks to you so softly and how can a man be capable of both?

“You need a second bouncer,” he says one morning as you’re trying and failing to sort the back door out.

The employee room in the bar is a barely functioning space. Cliche after cliche with the cheap red IKEA futon, mismatching furniture and chairs and elderly microwave and kettle. The air conditioning has never worked in the room and now the back door is jammed too.

The place is falling apart.

“Can’t afford it,” you reply nonchalantly. “We’re doing our best.”

“I know. But then someone could try and watch at the door, stop some of these people coming in.”

“I know. But no one’s coming in because they’re there so we can’t afford a bouncer. It’s uh, a catch 22. Can’t even afford to replace the damn -” You shove your weight against the door to no avail.

“I can fix that,” Joel says softly as you kick the door one more time.

“The gangs? That’s ambitious.”

“The door.”

“Oh, it’s just the weather and it always gets stuck now. Replacing it would cost-”

“I can fix it. I uh, used to be a contractor.”

“A contractor?” Joel hasn’t talked about his past much before. You know he has a brother, he’s the oldest and that he’s from Texas. Joel carries that

“Did you have to say that with the air of a cowboy in an old movie?”

“I wasn’t aware I did,” he replies, cocking his eyebrow in a way.

“What sort of contractor were you?”

“Building, just the general type.”

“Oh, okay. So you could actually fix the door?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“How do you get from contractor to bouncer?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’d expect so.”

Joel squirms awkwardly. You’ve watched him easily apprehend aggressive gang members shouting the vilest things to Joel and move them outside. You’ve seen him barely blink over ill drunks spilling their souls on his shoes. You’ve seen him so strong and resolute.

He looks at his watch which, for the first time, you notice is broken and then at the ground.

“It’s fine, Joel,” you say, “you don��t need to tell me anymore.”

He keeps coming back, night after night and things start to change. It’s small, a fixed door and then a window catch replaced, the fact the gangs start coming around less. It’s change but the quiet type of change you only discover through previously entrenched routines.

You’ve spent time cataloguing his details, each scar or line, the way he takes his coffee (black, but a two to one ratio of sugar that makes you wince a little). Joel Miller has a sweet tooth.

You’re used to Joel now, you like talking to him in quiet moments in the bar, before or after shifts as he hangs around just a little longer. You tell him about the town, about how it was growing up, he lets it slip he’s from Texas, mentions a brother, Tommy, and you want to unpeel his secrets more and more.

You proudly place the slab of cake in front of him. Rain hammers against the windows and roof, creating great echoes as it sounds like the bar will come down around you. It’s unseasonal, the rain, an omen of quiet days. Today you don’t mind.

“What’s the occasion?” Joel asks, looking at the cake curiously.

“It’s a Wednesday.” You take a bite of your own slice, savouring the flavours, the delicate balance of sponge and icing. If you can say so, it’s a pretty great cake. You really have improved over recent months and while this was experimental, you’re happy with the result.

“Ah. Say no more.”

“Also, congrats, you’ve officially been here for eight and half weeks.”

“I pass probation then?” Joel looks around dubiously, clearly concerned your cousin or others will suddenly pop out in some surprise party or sense of occasion.

“Pretty much passed that by coming back on day two, but that’s my cousin’s domain. I just pour drinks.”

“And provide frozen food to the bouncers.”

“Only the ones who come back. Besides, it’s defrosted. I can take that cake back you know.”

“No, don’t you dare.” Joel takes a large forkful of the cake. “So why the cake though, sweetheart?”

“You, Joel Miller, are officially our longest standing bouncer.” You clap lightly in mock celebration as he cocks an eyebrow in response.

“What an honour,” he replies sardonically.

”You’re welcome.”

“Do I need to make a speech?”

“I think it was the speech that bought the previous record holder down.” Clint had lasted forty-five minutes after that speech. It was a bad night - a particularly nasty gang fight.

“Hubris,” Joel says lightly.

“Exactly.”

“Not bad for a contractor turned bouncer though.”

Joel laughs. “You going to tell me that story one day?” you ask, hoping your teasing expression hides how genuine your question is.

“Maybe,” he says. “You’ve not hit my records yet.”

“That a challenge?”

He shrugs and walks towards the door to ready the bar for opening.

You hand Joel the frozen peas wrapped in an old cloth. After the commotion, your cousin’s closed the bar early. It’s hard to recover the night from a scene like that and you’re pretty sure the broken table and glass amount to some sort of safety violation at the least.

“Thanks,” Joel says gruffly.

“You could have a concussion.”

“I'm fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”

Joel looks at his cracked knuckles and raises a finger to the cut on his head, lightly touching it and observing the blood that comes away on his hand. “’m fine.”

“You hit the bar.”

“Standard night on the job.”

“You hit it with your head.”

Joel shrugs, nonchalance and mischief at once.

“How’s the idiot?” Owen had come in with the intention of causing trouble; something about the rival gang, or his girlfriend, or something that would never justify his trail of destruction. Joel had maintained his usual rules; polite, carefully moving Owen outside the bar, even as he tried to fight back. You’re not sure how it went so wrong, how instead of getting Owen outside suddenly there were more of the gang, broken tables and chaos.

It’s been weeks since a night like that. It makes it feel brand new, the hurt starker somehow.

“He needs to go to hospital,” you say, wrapping your jacket around you after you lock the bar door, keys heavy in your hand.

“Oh.”

“He’ll be fine. His friends are taking him. You probably need the hospital too, I’ll drive you.”

“’m fine.”

“You’re not. Get in the damn car, Joel.”

“I’m -”

“The car, Joel. Don’t make me start calling you Miller again.”

Joel holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” you say with a sweet smile.

You drive in near silence but once you’re both in the hospital waiting room, he talks. He talks more than he ever usually does.

“I didn't need to come here,” he grumbles.

“Are you on the lam?”

“What?” He asks incredulously.

“You seem reluctant to be in a hospital that takes down personal information. It’s a reasonable question.”

He sighs, pinches between his eyebrows. “No, I’m not on the damn lam. I just - I just don’t like hospitals.”

“I don’t think a lot of people do. I guess it’s an occupational habit with your work.”

“I patch myself up usually. Last time I was in one of these places, it was … I was …”

“Joel, it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything.” You reach for his bloody hand and squeeze, unsure if the blood on it is from his own split knuckles or the fight. The violence of his body contrasts so much with the man you talk to, the friend you’ve made.

“When I told you it was a long story, how I went from a contractor to this … it’s, I don’t know.”

You shift so you can face Joel and try and model your best supportive expression. Joel and you talk about everything now, but he’s guarded and this is the first time he’s volunteered this story to you.

“We can talk about it later.”

“I had a daughter,” he says so quietly that you can barely hear him. “And then I had a chance, a second chance to - but it’s been a mess. I’ve been a mess. I’ve got a lot wrong.”

So much of Joel Miller makes sense to you know and you can understand the sadness that crosses his eyes sometimes, the reluctance to talk about his past.

“Haven’t we all?” You pause. “I’m really sorry about your daughter, Joel.“

“I don’t know how to make it right now though.”

“I think,” you say gently, “all you can do is try. For what it’s worth, you’re making a difference here, you’re making a difference with me.”

“Really?” He glances up at you, suddenly years younger and as you nod a slight smile light up his face briefly.

“Why don’t you tell me about her? If you want to.”

He smiles. “I do, but not tonight, but I will.”

“Joel Miller,” a doctor calls.

“C’mon, you’re up.” You squeeze Joel’s arm before standing up.

The balance has shifted and something’s changed.

The bar changes gradually like the way spring teases itself for weeks. It’s all subtle shifts, blossoms of hope and shoots of a future you didn’t dare think of too much. The bar might survive, your cousin is smiling again.

And then there’s you and Joel. Joel, who still pops in to talk to you even on his days off. Joel, who you sit out with after the bar closes and drink beer and play guitar to the stars.

“You should play here,” he says, taking a sip of his beer, “you’re good.” “You’re better. I can’t play guitar like you.” “Nah. Just had more practice at best. Your voice is pretty, so pretty.” “Oh, I’m not so good at playing. I’m better at singing,” you say. “Four basic chords are about my limit on the guitar.” “Don’t do yourself down.” “Trust me, I’m not.” You pause. ”Joel, you could - you could play with me. If I ever played here. it’s probably stupid.” There’s something unreadable in his eyes, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’d like that.”

You’re accustomed to his presence, his low but grounding voice, his calm demeanour throughout all chaos.

He’s told you more about his past now. About Sarah and how her loss tore him apart for years, and also about the foster daughter he took in, Ellie. He won’t tell you much about Ellie though, except they stopped talking around about the time he became a bouncer. He once asked you if you would do anything to save the life of someone you love and you said yes. He nodded and moved on. You think it’s connected, you’re not sure.

You’ve worked at a bar long enough to know when it’ll be a bad night. There’s an electricity in the air, a tension that is so tight anything could snap it. You look over at Joel to see if he’s picked up on the same energy.

He’s sitting on the stool, observing quietly, but you notice the slight furrow in his brows. He looks at you and his mouth twitches into the smallest of smiles, but there’s anxiety in his eyes.

“I heard that Owen’s gang declared war on the Rattlers,” you say in a low voice. You don’t like Owen, or his friends, but the Rattlers are worst. Owen’s gang is the typical cliched grouping of a small town that’s become lost. They drink too much, throw punches without thinking and cause trouble. They’re not evil though.

The Rattlers are.

“Didn’t hear the Rattlers came through here,” Joel says in a low voice. “I heard of their reputation at a previous gig.”

“Their uh, second in command, is that the term? Anyway, he’s had a thing with someone in town for years. On and off. Guess it’s on again.”

“They cause trouble when they’re here?”

You scoff. “This was starting to feel like -”

“It still is, it still will. Let me do my job,” Joel says firmly.

You want to trust him; you do trust him. It’s the Rattlers that worry you, the feeling in your gut that this hard sought over peace is threatened, the deep and terrifying fear that this bar can never change. Not now. Not even with Joel.

Joel smiles at you, the picture of reassurance. “Owen might not come in here. This is hardly a welcome environment for his group anymore.”

“Joel,” you say nervously, “I just … I have a feeling.”

Joel doesn’t laugh or dismiss you; he straightens up and nods.

You’re not sure how things fall apart so quickly. One moment the bar was quiet, then Owen was there and before Joel could get him to leave, the Rattlers were here too. Maybe it was planned, maybe it was what they all wanted.

“Evening, unfortunately I need to ask you all to leave tonight,” Joel says politely, standing from his barstool. “I’m afraid the business is at capacity and we have a private function on.”

“Well,” Owen begins.

“Leave.”

“Look, Miller, it’s not -”

“I’m not asking, Owen.” Joel’s voice is low, deadly, the tone he uses when polite words fall flat, when it’s time to not be nice. “That goes to all of you.”

Owen falters slightly at the sound of that, you wonder if he remembers how things went the last time Joel used that voice.

“Y’all got a function on?” one of the Rattlers asks you. He’s covered in tattoos and is wearing a leather vest with numerous patches with no other top underneath. You wonder if he based his outfit on the existing tropes, if he’s intentionally as cliched as possible or if it truly is just an unspoken truth now. His hair is slicked back into a ponytail that highlights his receding hairline and a puckered scar that runs from his brow to his nose.

“I’m afraid so, gentlemen. While we, uh appreciate the desire to visit, I’m afraid Mr Miller is correct.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t look so-”

“Please,” you say quietly.

For a moment you wonder if it will work, you’re on bated breath as the Rattler steps back and moves to say something to his gang. However, that’s the very moment Owen smashes a chair on his back and hell breaks loose.

“Oh, thank you so fucking much for that,” Joel says in an irritated voice, immediately pulled into action to try and get the situation outside, away from the patrons, from you.

You step backwards, hoping the protection of the bar will be enough.

People are running out of the bar as the chaos unfolds. It’s a flood of sound,

Someone pushes Owen onto the bar, pummelling him as you try and back away. “Please stop,” you say.

Then a flash and searing heat.

That’s when you hear Joel swear, you notice his eyes have darkened, his entire demeanour has changed.

Your vision is blurred by something and you can feel a sharp pain on your face along with something sticky and hot when you touch it.

You shut your eyes, willing the events away and allowing yourself to crouch under the bar and wait for the noises to stop.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

You’re fine.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” a soothing voice says. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise but we do have to close early today.”

There’s a pause, noise around you and then something cool on your face. “I need to see the damage, okay? It’s me, it’s Joel, you’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You open your eyes to see Joel crouched in front of you. He’s holding a damp cloth that is already soaked in red.

“You’ll need stitches, I’ll drive you.” Joel moves your head gently and nods. “Your eye looks okay; can you see normally?”

“Yeah. What happened?”

”Fucking - it was Owen, he grabbed a glass from the bar and instead of hitting the rattler - ”

“Got me.”

“Yeah. It’s deep but um ‘”

“I’ll live. I’m okay. Don’t need hospital.”

“Huh, you trying to prove a point here? How annoyin’ it is when someone who needs hospital won’t go?”

”It’s fine, Joel.”

“You’re hurt,” he says and he looks disappointed.

You feel a burst of shame, you should have defended yourself better.

“I’m going to call your cousin and tell her what happened and then I’m driving you to hospital. No arguments, okay?”

You try and smile weakly in acquiescence which seems to only make Joel frown more.

His hand lingers on your shoulder slightly as he hands you the seatbelt after bundling you into his truck. He moved quickly, closing the bar, making a hushed call in the corner to your cousin and then immediately guiding you out, a clean cloth placed in your hands to hold against your cut.

There’s a nodding dog ornament on the dash, something that doesn’t seem like Joel at all.

“Ellie,” he says quietly as he notices you looking at it. “Keep the pressure on that wound, okay?”

He turns out of the bar.

“Didn’t seem your sort of ornament,” you reply placidly.

“She called it Ernie, I - that kid.” Joel sighs heavily.

“You could call her,” you say, braver in the wake of your injury.

“I would. But she doesn’t want to hear from me, trust me.” He mumbles something else you can’t make out.

“You’re a good person, Joel. She -”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” you say, “trust me, I know bad men, but you aren’t one of them. Owen? The Rattlers?”

“The bar’s pretty damn low there.”

“You know the town I live in.”

Joel chuckles mirthlessly.

“I was going to play tonight,” you say quietly, “I thought it was time. That’ll teach me.”

“You could still play, maybe tomorrow though.”

“It would be harder with the blood right now.”

“Just a tad.”

“Thanks for driving me.”

“Of course.”

You wonder if he’s trying to return a favour, whether he’s the sort of person who just can’t feel indebted to someone else. Now you’ve bled on his car too, now you’re even?

He looked worried though. You think about the way he sounded too, the forced calmness when he checked on you.

You’re friends.

That’s normal, right?

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “You shouldn’t have got hurt.”

“Joel, it’s … you can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not on you.”

“I should have -”

“Miller,” you say sharply, “it’s not on you. Not one bit. Do you think I can bar Owen for good now?”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I reckon so.

“Good, well that’s something, isn’t it? Almost makes it worth it. Do you think it will scar?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

You pause. It’s vanity, you know, but the idea of this leaving a permanent scar on your face hurts worse than the injury itself.

“That’s not ideal. I-it’s stupid.” It feels so foolish to be worried about a scar when things could be so much worse, for your own vanity to say ‘well, now, you’ll never make it as a musician or star’ or to focus on your looks. It’s normal, it’s human, but it makes you feel guilty.

Joel looks at you carefully and he places a warm, solid hand on your hand that is not holding a compress to your face. “You’re so beautiful, you know that, right?” he says in a low voice. “This won’t change that. It couldn’t, okay?”

No-one calls you beautiful. There’s been half-hearted claims of your ‘hotness’ with exes, of your friends’ encouragement when you make a particular effort in your appearance, but nothing like this. Nothing that feels this sincere either.

He takes his hand away as the doctor joins you. You can feel the heat lingering like butterflies as the doctor attends to your wound.

Joel stays with you the whole time.

You hear the guitar before you can see him. Soft, melodic chords that reach a crescendo as you walk closer to the small cabin style house he’s renting. You’re not sure if it’s a complete betrayal of the trust from when you dropped him off after his hospital trip weeks ago, but you need to see him outside of the bar.

“Hey,” he says in surprise when he sees you. He places the guitar carefully down before standing up to greet you.

“I’m sorry to just turn up, I hope it’s okay.” You awkwardly clasp your hands and wring them together. “I was passing through and I thought - I thought I’d say hi.”

This is a complete lie; you are not passing through at all.

You’re wearing your favourite outfit and you sprayed an extra two spritzes of your best perfume on this morning. In fact, you have made considerable effort when you think about all of this.

“No, it’s great. I’m happy you stopped by.”

“You’re good. The guitar, it was … really good. I’ve not heard you play that before.”

“Oh, it’s just something I’ve been working on.”

“It’s really good.”

“Nah, not really.”

You frown, hands on your hips and he raises his own hands in defence.

“Can I - do you want a drink?” Joel indicates inside the cabin and you nod enthusiastically.

“That would be great, thanks Joel.”

There are three cabins in the area that a local businessman rents out. Joel’s cabin is the closest to the woods, the one that’s slightly hidden away. Inside it looks like a typical rental; the slightly shabby furniture and neutral demeanour that feels void of any character, the aged kitchen stove and units, an abundance of wood furniture.

There are touches of Joel too though. There’s a vinyl player and box of records on the coffee table, a plaid blanket over the sofa and a couple of photos on the fireplace mantle. You think they might be Sarah, maybe Ellie, but you don’t want to pry.

This changes things. It’s not the bar, neither of you are at work, or hanging out outside after a shift. This feels more personal, more intimate. This is Joel Miller, the real Joel, the one you can’t hide your feelings for now.

You do have feelings for Joel.

It’s funny, when he started you wanted to keep him at a distance because you expected him to leave like everyone else, you thought the bar was beyond help. You wondered if you were beyond your dreams. He’s helping bring you back though.

It’s his calm demeanour, the wry expressions and dry humour, his plaid shirts and the way when he smiles, which is rare but you’ve seen it, his whole face softens and lightens up. It’s electric.

You think about him all the time; reading articles you try and remember to bring up at the bar, when you hear a song he’d like. Joel’s found his way into your life and you don’t want to let him go.

He’ll leave though. The bouncers inevitably do, most people in your life do. You just don’t want that with him. You want him to stay.

“Are you okay?” Joel asks.

“Why?”

“You have that serious thought face on.”

“I have a serious thought face?”

Joel scoffs. “So, what’s up?”

“I just - I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here.”

Joel frowns then. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, c’mon I said I’d get you a drink, right?” Joel indicates the sturdy wooden table and you sit obligingly. “So I’ve got a choice of tea, well It says it’s tea anyway. Uh, some whiskey, beer, water …. I’m out of coffee.”

“That should be illegal.”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“I might just leave now.”

“Wouldn’t blame ya.”

He’s close to you now and you feel emboldened by the fact you’re here, you’re with him and he’s not pushing you away or looking like he wants to leave. Maybe, just maybe this is a great idea.

“Now I think about it though, I’m not sure that I’m thirsty after all,” you say boldly.

“Oh no?” He leans in closer, hands hovering just over your waist. “Look, you don’t want -”

“I do. I do want.”

Joel swallows. “Really?” He’s looking at you as though you’re something mythical, something intangible he could lose at any second. There’s reverence in his eyes and it’s overwhelming and beautiful at once.

You nod. “I’m not the only one here who - I’m not though, right?” There’s a hint of nervousness in your voice now, a sense that perhaps this isn’t the great idea you thought it was just seconds ago. It’s like whiplash. This is why you should just focus on music instead.

“No,” Joel says softly, “you’re not.”

His hands, hands you’ve seen both acts of violence and hold your injured face so gently, skim your body. Joel’s hands, like him, are contradictions. He steps minutely closer, a little more into your space and oh so welcome.

He smells like soap and coffee, with the faint hints of autumn you noticed around the cabin and there’s something magic in this Joel Miller. Something in every sense of him, the way he touches you, the sound of his voice, the feel of his skin and sound of his voice that instantly draws you closer, that makes heat pool in your stomach.

He kisses you and you reach for his hands, entwines them together. He stops, concern mounting over his face. “You’re injured, I should have -”

“Doesn’t hurt,” you say softly, drawing him close again.

You’re a mess of hands and lips, a clash of sensations and finally, finally this is happening you think as h guides you further into the cabin. Towards his bedroom.

He guides you past the kitchenette, down the narrow corridor to his room.

You want to drink him in, absorb every detail of his body and commit it to memory.

There’s a ragged scar on his abdomen, a light scattering of stories across his body from other bars, other jobs, other Joels.

There are other details you want to remember though, especially the look in his eyes right now, heavy with desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. You’ve heard the words before in similar settings but it’s been clear to you it’s the lust, it’s the ‘right’ thing to say. You know when isn’t meant, the lack sincerity signalling a paint by the numbers dalliance at best.

Joel’s voice is fervent though. Honest. He means this.

The majority of your clothes are soon discarded, both yours and his in a combined mess on the floor.

Your hands are running through his hair as he guides you onto the bed, as his fingers hover over the edge of your underwear.

He pauses, just for a moment. You wonder if it’s recognition of the line you’re both about to cross, if it’s to give you the space to confirm that yes, you still want him, to offer an out just in case.

You reach for his face, run your hand down his stubbly cheek. You’re trying to sum up your thoughts, to bring everything you want to say together into a neat sentence.

You smile and gently say, “I want you, want this. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t, I didn’t think you’d want me. Been driving myself crazy thinkin’ about you lately.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you show me what you thought about?” you ask.

He smiles as his fingers finally reach beneath your underwear, carefully pulling them down and then gently gliding his finger.

You’re wet, almost embarrassingly so, you think, for just making out.

“This all for me?” He asks with a devilishly teasing tone.

You don’t immediately answer, just smirk as he teases up to your clit and traces circles around it, smiling as you finally make a groan of contentment.

He slides a finger inside you, lazily moving it within you, finding that spot that makes you moan, adding another finger.

You feel close already, but he withdraws his fingers and then, looking at you, brings them to his mouth one at a time in a move that makes your cheeks heat up.

He moves to his bedside drawer, fumbling for a box of condoms you suppose. You’re still lost in catching your breath, in replaying the last few moments, in anticipating what’s about to happen.

He kisses you before positioning himself and you ready yourself for him.

You’re entwined, adjusting yourself for the feel of him, the weight of him. Hands interlocked with his as he finally moves, as he meets your kiss once again.

He adapts quickly, noticing micro=movements or sounds and changing his rhythm to draw every one of them out, to bring you to the edge once more.

You’re both a mess of rushed breaths, a chorus of names and gasps, ebbing and flowing to tease each other apart.

He’s everything and nothing like you expected. Hoped for even.

The feeling builds in your stomach, the rush of pleasure building almost unbearably.

Finally, finally you get your release. The ripples of pleasure ride through your body as the two of you lie together, boneless, catching your breath.

You usually feel a need to say something, to fill a silence, but it’s comfortable. You roll over, daringly placing an arm over Joel’s chest and leaning close. He pulls you towards you, kissing your brow lazily

You can feel his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.

You feel like you could stay here forever.

Instead though, you’re practical. You excuse yourself to his bathroom to clean up.

You take in your reflection; the telltale signs of your exploits feel so visible to you as you freshen up.

He’s not in bed when you return. You pull your clothes on and head back into the main room of the cabin.

Joel’s wearing his jeans and not much else, humming as he concentrates on something by the stove.

“I promised tea, didn’t I?”

“We did get sidetracked.”

“Well, that was welcome,” Joel says. His voice is so much softer than you’ve heard it in the bar. There’s a vulnerability leaking through with each moment you stay here. It’s two sided, you can feel your own edges softening, a desire to open yourself even more to the man in front of you.

“I agree.”

The kettle boils and you watch Joel making the tea, try and not lose yourself in the broadness of his shoulders.

“So …” you break off, swinging your arms nervously and then wrapping them around yourself.

Joel hands you a steaming mug. “So,” he says. His voice is calm though, relaxed and somehow that helps.

“That wasn’t exactly what I thought was - I didn’t turn up for this specifically, you know? It wasn’t intentional.” Not that intentional.

“Would you have been wearing a trench coat if it was? Seduce me properly?” There’s mischief in his eyes as you meet his gaze.

“That a fantasy or something, Joel?”

He laughs. “Maybe, maybe it is.”

“Okay then. Logging that for another day.”

“Oh really?” Joel’s smile warms his entire face, it softens each feature and it’s something you never want to stop seeing.

It feels like you’ve known him so much longer. You feel comfortable in his house, you feel comfortable around him.

“So we’re opening back up at the weekend,” you say, “Got any plans for this time off?”

“Nope. You?”

You shake your head. “How about that?”

“Hmm, that’s not right. We should do something about that. Let me take you to dinner?”

“Dinner?“

“People still do that, right?”

“Yes, but - I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll uh, defer to your recommendation, seeing as you know this area more.” It hits you then. Joel doesn’t have roots here and the bar, except for the Rattlers, has improved. What does this town, what do you have to offer?

“Are you going to leave?” you ask suddenly, the anxious thought you’ve tried to suppress bubbling to the surface.

“Leave?”

“When the bar’s open, when there’s no trouble.”

“There’s always some trouble.”

“Don’t. You know what I mean.”

Joel sighs and takes a sip of his drink. “Usually, I would.”

“But this isn’t usual?”

He points his hand at you and adds, “I don’t make a habit of this. I don’t …. Usually, yes I go in and out of places and I don’t stay long.”

Your heart sinks. “I understand,” you lie.

“I think, I think maybe there are some reasons to stick around here though?” It’s a question, not a confirmation. It strikes you then that maybe Joel feels just as exposed as you do.

“I think there could be,” you say.

“Good. I’m glad.“

The bar looks like the Rattlers never came through here. Everything is neat, clean and in its place. There are no broken chairs or tables. It seems almost impossible for how short a time ago it was.

Joel helped, you realise, he helped your cousin bring this place back.

“Are you okay?” she asks, “I can cover the bar if you need -”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure.”

You pause and run your hand over the smooth, clean bar surface. You think of Joel, of the conversations over so many nights about music, about what makes you happy. “Can you still cover the bar for a bit?”

“Sure.” Your cousin pauses and hesitantly puts down the crate of soda bottles. “Is everything -”

“I want to play tonight.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I’ve got to stop waiting right for the right moment, right? Just do it,” you say.

“And this has nothing to do with a certain bouncer?”

“No,” you say, thinking of the scar on your face, the battles you’ve won and will win in the future. “It’s for me.”

You can feel his eyes on you. It doesn’t make you feel nervous or under a spotlight though as you carefully sit on the stool.

It’s almost as though it’s just the two of you. Another night after work under the stars and messing around with a guitar. Or outside his cabin, thick flannel wrapped around you as you both play.

The bar feels safer somehow. It’s funny considering the recent Rattlers attack. Maybe that’s why - they came in and they tried to wreck the place, you were caught in that crossfire, but you survived. The bar survived. And the locals are back, the locals you wanted back. If you shut your eyes, it almost feels like before when your family ran the place.

It’s different though, because it’s your cousins. Because even though it might not be on paper, it’s yours too. Your legacy. You don’t want to fight it anymore. You don’t want to feel cynical about this town.

You look at Joel and smile and then you start playing.

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed@pedrostories@hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk @pastelnap

#joel miller x reader #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #the last of us #tlou fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us

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eufezco · 3 months ago

Text

𝙎𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙍 𝙏𝙃𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙄𝙉𝘾𝙇𝙐𝘿𝙀𝙎 : steve harrington, eddie munson, billy hargrove

♡️ fluff ☆ angst ☽ smut

english isn't my first language !!!

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

DADS HEADCANONS | ♡️ billy, eddie, jonathan, steve

SMUT HEADCANONS | ☽ billy, eddie, jonathan, steve

STEVE HARRINGTON

YOU'RE TOO DRUNK FOR THIS | ♡️ ☆

you're way too drunk to have that conversation with steve.

CONFIDENCE | ♡️

he isn't that confident when it comes to you.

HELP | ♡️ ☆

you and your nightmares spend the night with steve.

POOL SEX | ☽

WAIT FOR IT | ♡️ ☆ ☽ king!steve

you think steve maybe didn't make the best decision when he broke up with nancy because of you.

THE GRIEF OF LOSING EDDIE MUNSON | ♡️ ☆

x byers!fem!reader. steve and your family help you to go through the grief of losing your best friend.

SOFT!DOM STEVE | ☽

JELOUSY, JELOUSY | ♡️ ☆

steve has to face his feelings in the worst way possible when billy hargrove, the guy you kissed last night, knocks on your door.

TO THE UPSIDE DOWN | ♡️ ☆

steve, nancy, robin and eddie are in the upside down, you are paranoid that something might happen. steve has to reassure it won’t.

🩷💜💙 | ♡️ x bi!fem!reader

a conversation with robin, eddie, you and steve about your sexualities.

WE | ♡️ ☆ x hopper!female!reader

you go running to steve after finding out that your father, jim hopper, is alive. you reunite with him and jim and steve realize that they are now family.

MAX'S DATE | ♡️ ☆

you and your boyfriend steve help max after surviving vecna to get ready for her date with lucas.

FIRST KISS | ♡️ ☆

based on the quote: if I were to kiss you then go to hell, i would. so then i can brag with the devils i saw heaven without entering it.

THAT'S WHAT I LIKE | ☽

he has been neglected so when the time comes, steve doesn't know what he likes.

VECNA'S CURSE | ♡️ ☆ x hargrove!fem!reader

while visiting the grave of your brother billy, you are cursed by vecna.

POTTERY LESSON | ☽ ♡️

your pottery lesson to steve ends up in something better.

FANBOY | ♡️

i just think that steve would be the biggest queen fanboy.

THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE | ♡️

a conversation between steve and his mom about his friends and you.

FORGIVENESS IS A NICE THING TO DO | ♡️ ☆

king!steve x munson!reader. after saying something horrible about eddie munson in front of you, steve finds out that he's your brother.

... READY FOR IT? | ♡️ ☆ ☽

you overhear a conversation between steve and robin about how you and him haven't had sex yet.

TAKING CARE OF MAX AT THE HOSPITAL | ♡️ ☆ x hopper!fem!reader

you want to be by max's side while she's in a coma in the hospital but it's consuming you. steve asks your father for help to get you out of there.

NEW YEAR'S EVE | ♡️ x hopper!female!reader

celebrating new year's eve with your boyfriend, friends and family.

EDDIE MUNSON

FIRST TIME | ☽

THE PRETTIEST GIRL AT HAWKINS HIGH | ♡️ x plus size!reader

DREAM OF A LIFETIME | ♡️ ☆ x pregnant!reader

your lack of communication had caused you and eddie to distance yourselves from each other. now he, robin, steve and nancy were trapped in the upside down, and you regretted not telling him you were pregnant earlier.

STAY SAFE | ♡️ ☆

you are the only person that knows where to find him.

FOUR TIMES EDDIE MUNSON KISSED YOU | ♡️ ☆ ☽

THE STAINS | ☽

what were those stains on eddie's mattress in that scene in 4x07?

WHITE LIE | ♡️ ☆

after being accused of crissy's murder, eddie hides and breaks up with you. when you findnd out you are pregnant, you tell everyone that it's steve's (your bff) baby but eddie can't do the math since two months ago you were still together.

REUNION | ♡️

you reunite with your friends from hawkins after a couple of years but now you are famous painter who just got divorced and eddie is the lead singer of the most famous band yet the tension between you is the same it was years ago.

MASTER OF PUPPETS | ☽

eddie plays master of puppets in his guitar while you touch him.

BILLY HARGROVE

FIRST TIME | ☽

POISONED DRINK | ♡️ ☆

you are in a party and someone puts something in your drink. luckily, billy finds you before anything bad happens to you.

TRAUMA RESPONSE | ♡️ ☆

you're a baddie but then billy finds out you also got some trauma from your parents.

GOOD GIRL, BAD BOY | ♡️ ☆

you are a good girl dating billy hargrove. all of your friends try to warn you that he is the type of boy who will break your heart.

SUMMERTIME SADNESS | ☆

billy sacrifices himself for you during the start court battle.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 11 months ago

Text

a new home for the holidays | ljh

(where you can't go home for the holidays and end up having a much better christmas than you expect.)

pairing: jihoon (woozi) x afab!reader genre: acquaintances to lovers, christmas!au | fluff & smut rating: explicit word count: 10.5k warnings: lots of mentions of christmas (including decorating, family, cooking, etc.), if the holidays are too much please skip this, mentions of family issues, reader can't go home for the holidays (and they actually like christmas), no gendered pronouns used for reader, mentions of past death (family member woozi mentions), woozi owns the house where reader rents a room but there are no power dynamics, explicit and implied smut, woozi is kinda grumpy, reader is super bummed about christmas, woozi ends up being a secret softie smut warnings: lots of kissing, thigh riding, nipple play, marking if you squint, slight begging, two ass slaps, oral (reader rec.), fingering (reader receiving), overstimulation, squirting, briefest handjob, unprotected sex (don't do this), implied aftercare, implied morning after sex

author's note: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays and the final prompt is christmas. i don't really have anything to say for myself. this is not what i'm supposed to be writing and it kinda just happened. merry christmas (if you celebrate) and happy holidays. i've already had christmas dinner, so if you see any mistakes, blame it on the drinks.

The holidays are your favorite time of year. Always have been. Nothing has really changed over the years. You moved away for work and fell in love with a new city. Now you just get to have twice the holiday cheer. You decorate your space in the house you live in with friends (and the grumpy house owner who’s resisted most of your attempts to be friends). Then, you go back to visit family when it gets closer to Christmas. It’s been a really great system. You’re just as excited this year as every other year.

Until your plans change. It’s only the day before you’re supposed to fly back home when your dad calls to let you know that he and your mom are sick. They know that you have a lot of post-Christmas plans (New Years, school work, and even a trip) and they don’t want to risk getting you sick as well. They insist that you can still come back, if you want, but warn you that they’ll have to keep their distance. You spend a lot of time thinking about it (read: talk it over exhaustively with your closest friends) before deciding that you’re just going to stay put for the holidays. You can plan another time to catch up with your family and have a time-shifted Christmas. After all, you think of the holidays as more of a feeling than a specific date on the calendar. You can find something to keep you busy for the 25th.

A couple of your friends invite you to come and spend Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with them, but you decline. You appreciate the sentiment, and really consider it in at least one case, but it just doesn’t feel right. Your family has so many traditions that it feels weird to consider dropping in on someone else’s. Besides, you won’t be alone in the house. (Even if Jihoon, who owns the house and rents out rooms, isn't always the friendliest. And doesn’t seem to enjoy Christmas at all.)

It’s four days before Christmas. You’re sitting in the living room aimlessly scrolling through your phone while you wait for Jun and Minghao to come downstairs. The three of you were all supposed to be heading to the airport together today, but now you’re just going to be driving them so they don’t have to pay for a ride. A sound makes you look up before you realize it’s not nearly enough noise for Jun, who can’t seem to go anywhere without being too loud. Instead, Jihoon only nods at you before he settles into an armchair on the other side of the room with a book. After a few minutes, you hear the telltale giggles of one of your best friends as he rushes down the stairs. Jun is through the door first, followed by an exasperated Minghao. Nevertheless, you see the signs he’s trying to fight his smile. You stand to meet them at the doorway.

“Bestie,” Jun signsongs when he reaches you. Throws his arms around you for good measure. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Jun, for the last time, we were supposed to leave for the airport 45 minutes ago,” Minghao sighs. “There wouldn’t be time to pack.”

“Details, we’ve got plenty of time,” Jun waves off.

“And last minute plane tickets are insane,” Minghao adds.

“Less insane with a travel credit,” Jun supplies, undeterred.

“Jun, please, we really need to leave,” Minghao begs.

“Are you not going home?” Jihoon asks. He’s so quiet when he moves that you didn’t even hear him stand up to join your group.

“Oh, no, I guess I forgot to let you know,” you start. You didn’t. Jihoon scares you a little. He’s nice enough and he’s great as a landlord, if you can even call him that, but you’re not really friends.

“You don’t have to let me know,” he huffs out.

“I decided not to go home this year. Both my parents are sick and I don’t want to catch it too, so we’re timeshifting the holidays,” you say.

“So it’s just you two in the house for Christmas,” Jun says brightly as he throws an arm around Jihoon. “Take good care of my bestie, okay?”

“It’s fine, Jihoon, I’m not expecting you to do anything with me,” you say before he can even open his mouth.

“But…” Jun starts and you turn him around before he can finish.

“Come on, before we give Hao an aneurysm. Do you need help getting your stuff outside?” you ask.

“Bless you,” Minghao mutters as you’re wrangling your best friend out of the house.

Once you’re back at the house, all you want to do is lay in your bed. It was a lot of work to pretend everything was fine while taking Jun and Minghao to the airport. Traffic was bad getting back, so you didn’t really have it in you to break down. Now that you’re home and in your room, the tears don’t come. It’s not who you are. It sucks that you’re not going home for the holidays, but it’s still the holidays and you can still make the most of it. Maybe. Somehow.

Somewhere in the house, you hear a door close loudly. Probably just Jihoon since everyone else has left. For a moment, you consider going downstairs to see what he’s up to. But, again, you’re not really friends. Moving seems like too much effort, anyway. You flop back onto your bed and get comfortable. Wait until you’re hungry to actually leave your room to find something to eat. You’re probably going to need more groceries before Christmas, because you still want to make some of your favorites, but you probably have enough for something to eat tonight. When you walk into the kitchen, you smell something delicious. There’s a big pot on the stove with the burner on beneath it.

You’re just about to lift the lid when Jihoon comes back into the kitchen. “Leave it.”

“Oh, sorry!” you gasp, surprised by his appearance and unsure of the tone.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says. “I just don’t wanna fuck it up.”

“That’s a big pot of soup,” you say.

“Yeah, I figured you might be hungry,” he says, like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

“Oh!” you say.

“I mean, I don’t know if you like Chicken Ramen soup, it’s a little spicy, but I like it around this time of year,” Jihoon says. He looks a bit awkward and unsure.

“That sounds really nice, actually,” you admit. “You don’t mind sharing?”

“No, I wanted to share,” he assures you. “It’ll be done soon.”

With a nod, you go to sit down at the kitchen table. The silence isn’t totally comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. Not exactly. This is already shaping up to be the most time you’ve spent alone with him, if you end up eating together. It makes you wonder more about him. He seems really focused as he cleans up around the kitchen. His black hair is the longest you can remember seeing it, falling around his face as he leans over. It’s almost soft to watch him brush it out of his face.

As you’re sitting there waiting for the soup to finish, you realize that you don’t know much about him at all. Even though you’ve lived in this house almost two years, he’s still very much a mystery. You know that the house has been in the family for a long time and he was the only one who was willing to take the project of managing it on. Or that’s what you think he said once. Someone, maybe a cousin or friend or something, thought he was a bit crazy for renting rooms out like this. But, it’s a massive house and he’s single. (There are 6 bedrooms, all with attached bathrooms, multiple living rooms, and an office that he uses for himself. The house is paid off so the rent goes towards things like property taxes, maintenance plans, and anything else that comes up.) You know he also produces music, though you’ve never heard any of it. Not that anyone has, he’s very private and doesn’t even share what name he produces under.

It’s clear when he brings each of you a bowl of soup that he’s expecting the food to do the talking for him. It’s cute and also puzzling at the same time. How does someone who wants to speak through something like making soup have a successful career as a producer? You shake the thought away and make conversation yourself. Most of what you get are short answers, but it’s something. And you definitely learn more about him. He deflects a little when you ask about his family, prefers to turn it around so you can talk about yours. Which you don’t really mind, even if it’s a little sad to think you won’t get to see them.

“Hey, I was thinking I might go and see about getting more decorations for the house tomorrow. Is that okay?” you ask when you’re finished eating.

“You really like Christmas, don’t you?”

It’s not really an answer, which makes you look up to find something of a smile on his face. Maybe a little teasing behind the smile. “Yeah, I just really like the joy of it all.”

“I don’t mind. There also might be some stuff in the attic that I can pull out,” he says as he stands to clear the dishes.

“That would be better than braving the crazies,” you say.

“Come on, I’ll show you how to get up there,” he says. Doesn’t even check if you’re following him before leaving the kitchen.

You scramble to your feet to catch up to him. Truthfully, you didn’t even know the house had an attic. It isn’t surprising. It’s an old house, but still. This is just another small thing that you feel like helps you better unwrap the mystery of Lee Jihoon. Upstairs, he opens the closet and pulls out a hook to unlatch a door in the ceiling just outside of Minghao’s room. Huh. You’ve never even noticed it, not that you’re outside this room often. To your further surprise, Jihoon flicks on a switch and then climbs up the ladder into the attic. Once again, you follow close behind him.

There are a lot of boxes in the attic, mostly labeled with names or rooms or both. You figure they probably belong to relatives. Or maybe past renters. In any case, it seems best to not bother asking. Especially since he’s making a beeline to one corner. You fight the urge to laugh. So much for thinking there were decorations up here. By the way he walks, you can tell he knows exactly where they are. It’s worth it, though, because there are about a dozen boxes with garlands, ornaments, wreaths, and other various knickknacks. Jihoon asks which of the boxes you might want and sighs when you say you want to bring them all down. Doesn’t argue, though, just tells you how to help him get them down. Even helps you get some of them downstairs.

“Guess we might need a tree,” he sighs when you get the last box out of the attic.

“Oh, I can find a fake one at the store or something. It’s no big deal,” you mumble out.

“I have to take care of something in the morning, then we can go pick one out,” he says without looking at you.

“Really?” It comes out nearly as a squeak.

He rolls his eyes, which might discourage you if you hadn’t also caught the faintest smile. “Yeah, we might as well with all this stuff out of the attic.”

You distinctly hear him mumbling something about the damn Christmas spirit as he walks away, leaving you to happily sort through boxes. Hope can be dangerous, especially around the holidays when your plans are interrupted. But, you can’t help it. You feel a little spark of hope.

The house is quiet when you wake up. It’s hard to tell if Jihoon is around or not until you peek out into where you all park to see that his truck is missing. When you first met him, the truck surprised you. It’s not really flashy, or even new, for that matter, just an old, vintage Chevy that’s in completely perfect condition. It’s probably older than either of you, but you’d never know by how it looks. The more you get to know this man, the more the truck makes sense.

With the house empty, you can listen to music as loud as you want. You connect your phone to the speaker and Christmas music carries throughout the house in moments. Coffee in hand, you set out to get some of the decorations up while it’s just you. But, even with the music and the decorations, you’re feeling a little empty again. It’s not the same to be doing this all by yourself. You know, at least on some level, that you’re not totally alone. There’s also Jihoon and he isn’t going anywhere for the holidays. But, he obviously doesn’t like Christmas much if the lack of decorations or tree are anything to go by. Maybe you’re just a burden on him too.

Your phone dings and you look around for a minute before you find it on the table. The surprise of who’s texting you makes you unlock your phone right away.

Jihoon: Finished early and actually found a tree that works when I was driving home Jihoon: I hope that’s okay. I didn’t want it to be gone

There’s no explanation for the tears you’re blinking away. It’s not about picking out the tree. That part of Christmas hasn’t ever been an important part to you. Ever since you moved away, your parents got one before you flew in anyway. No, it’s more to do with the little you know about Jihoon and that truck. It’s almost like his child. He’s so careful about it. Somehow, Jun has managed to at least get to the point of being friends with him. Then again, Jun can wear anyone down. But, through Jun, you know how particular Jihoon can be about his truck. You distinctly remember Jun saying he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink in it (not that unusual) and that he had to brush off his shoes before getting in to avoid the dirt (a lot more unusual, especially someplace it snows). It probably doesn’t mean anything. It’s probably just your emotions about the change of holiday plans taking over. But, you’re overwhelmed that he’d pick up a tree and use his own truck.

You: oh, yeah! thanks! You: let me know you’re here and i’ll come help

The tree that Jihoon shows up with is completely perfect. Even still wrapped, you can tell that it’s going to be full. And that you’re going to have to work a little harder to get the branches to fall by Christmas. Not only did Jihoon use his truck to bring a tree back, he also has several bags of stuff, including a tree stand. It makes you wonder what he actually had to do this morning. It isn’t until you have to bring the tree in that you wonder how the hell you’re going to lift it into the house. That is, until Jihoon reaches through the branches and lifts up the tree. You try not to watch the way his muscles tense under his shirt. Fail miserably, actually, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He calls for you from the living room to help him fasten the tree into place. It’s a good thing, too, because you don’t really need to be dwelling on whether the guy who’s basically your landlord is hot or not.

Once the tree is up, he makes an excuse about needing to get some work done and disappears off to his studio. It had actually been really fun, even if it was short, to have Jihoon around and sharing in the space. It feels a little empty again. But, there’s still plenty of decorating to do. So you get to work. You’re hoping that somewhere in the process of decorating, it’ll start to feel a little more like Christmas. You consider calling Jun to answer his texts. Unfortunately, he knows your tones of voice better than you do. There’s no way you’ll be able to hide being sad. You can just fire off a couple quick texts to tell him about the tree and about how you’re decorating now.

An hour later, you’re kind of ready to give up. It’s just not going to feel like Christmas. Not when the joy and the sense of togetherness are missing. The second that you hear footsteps on the stairs, you wipe your eyes. The last thing you want is for Jihoon to see you crying. If he can tell, he doesn’t comment. Doesn’t say anything, actually. Just puts two bags down and starts sorting through ornaments, both old and clearly new. It’s the smallest gesture, yet you don’t feel so alone anymore.

“Do you want to listen to some music?” he finally asks to break the silence.

“Yeah, I can get a playlist,” you answer and reach for your phone.

“I have some, too. I’m not heartless,” he says with a chuckle.

“I never said…” you start, only to stop when he rests a hand on your arm.

“I was joking,” he says.

You’re not trying to be nosy, but you see him scroll through a few playlists while he’s looking for holiday music. “What were those?”

Jihoon looks up at you, confused, before looking back down at his phone. “Oh, nothing. Just stuff I’m working on.”

“I’d love to hear that,” you admit.

“What? The stuff that’s not done?” he asks, abandoning his search for a playlist.

“Well, yeah, but I meant the stuff you have finished,” you say.

“Oh, um, I don’t usually share that. I like to keep that separate,” he says awkwardly.

“It’s fine, I totally get it,” you say, brushing off any disappointment, and return to your focus on sorting through ornaments.

“Fuck it, sure. I’ll let you listen to some,” he says. Your head whips up with a beaming smile. And you have no way of knowing that it makes his heart stutter.

“Really?” you ask.

“Yeah, but if you hate them, don’t tell me,” he warns.

You hold out your pinky as a promise. Jihoon grumbles under his breath for a second before linking his pinky through yours as a promise. He scrolls back to one of the earlier playlists, keeps the name hidden from you, and hits play. The first song immediately puts you in a good mood. It’s upbeat and happy, full of good life advice. Just the type of thing you need right now. One song flows into the next and you’re smiling without even realizing it, singing along to songs that you can’t believe you know. Can’t believe this quiet man has so much talent. Can’t believe he works on such popular songs and still lives a simple life in a shared house with roommates that are way too loud.

It’s him that starts the conversation up again, seemingly unable to stop himself from asking for your thoughts. It’s the most animated you’ve ever seen him, asking for your opinions and talking about his process. The more you listen, the more he seems to have to say. At times, you’re not even sure that you hear what he’s saying. This animated side to him has you so entranced that you think you’d do anything to keep him speaking. Keep him smiling like this.

The house feels a lot warmer now that you’re decorating together and talking about anything under the sun. Talking about music seems to have opened him up to talking about a lot of things. About his interests, books he’s reading, games he likes to play. You find there are actually a lot of those things that you have in common. You have similar taste in books and in games, even offer to lend some books to him. He makes you promise that it’ll be an even trade so that he feels better about it.

When dinner time comes around, he suggests ordering delivery. You agree, but only on the condition that you can figure out a Christmas menu over dinner. That signature sigh and eye roll make another appearance, like he’s so exasperated by the process. It’s less effective now that you’re starting to know him better. A part of you thinks that it might even be an action reserved for people he cares about, even if that care is only small. But, you’re starting to learn how to play the game too. You pout at him and make your eyes as big as you can when you ask the second time. Before you can ask the third time, he relents and agrees.

With your favorite food spread out in front of you, from a place he’s somehow never tried, you start to make a list of your favorite Christmas dishes. Thankfully, some of your favorite things seem to line up and otherwise, Jihoon doesn’t really mind what you have. Once, he reminds you that there are only two of you, so you don’t need to go overboard. You’re quick to point out that leftovers are great and that your housemates come back shortly after Christmas. Again, he finds himself giving in to what you want.

You’re watching him clean up the boxes and considering your next question. “Can I ask you something?”

“You just did,” he points out, back still to you.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “You’re such a dick.”

“Now is that any way to speak to your landlord?” he teases, finally turning around.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you,” you say.

“If you can call me a dick?” he wonders and you laugh.

“No,” you manage. “No. I wanted to know…well, you’re obviously successful. Why live in a house with so many loud housemates?”

Jihoon looks thoughtful for a moment, turns around to continue throwing things out. You think he’s not going to answer when he comes to sit down across from you again. “I like the chaos. It's good for me. I don’t just mean because it inspires me. It does. But, it’s also good. I get a little in my head, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t always have the easiest time getting out. There’s always someone around here.”

“You secretly like us,” you coo because you’re not sure what else to say.

“I regret telling you,” he says and huffs.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I really like living here, even if you scared me at first. It feels like a weird, dysfunctional family,” you say.

“Do I still?” he asks, oddly serious.

“What? Scare me?”

“Yeah.”

“No, you don’t. I think you’re actually a lot softer than you want us to realize,” you say and watch his face. “Don’t worry, Ji, your secret’s safe with me.”

“Is that nickname going to stick?” he wonders.

“That depends. Do you like it?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“Of course it would.”

He looks away and clears his throat. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was a little shy or embarrassed. “I do like it.”

“I’ll be sure to use it a lot, then,” you say. More tease, really. You’re curious to see how he reacts and you’re not disappointed. There’s a slight blush to his cheeks. If you could see his ears through his hair, you think those would be tinged red as well.

It takes him a minute to regain his composure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re exhausting?”

“How do you think I manage to keep up with Jun?” you fire back.

“He adores you, you know,” Jihoon says and it’s the softest you’ve seen him while talking about another person.

“I’m glad because I adore him, too,” you say without even thinking about it. “Although, sometimes he acts like the brother I definitely never wanted.”

Jihoon actually laughs at that, a real laugh, and the sound is so pretty. “The brother you never wanted. How does he feel about that?”

“Fine because I also tell him that sometimes he’s the brother I did want. So it evens out,” you reason.

“You see him like family?” he asks, an unplaceable emotion on his face.

“Yeah,” you answer immediately.

“Why didn’t you take his offer to go home with him for the holidays?”

That’s not the question you’re expecting. It makes you frown a little. You had forgotten, just for a moment, that this year was different. “Oh, well, I don’t know. Jun is family to me and I do love him like he’s my brother. But, um, I guess it’s that he’s family to me. Not his family. I like them and they’re great, but it would feel like intruding to have accepted. Like I was someone they had to make feel welcome, a guest. Not someone who was actually part of everything.”

“I get that,” he says.

“Why do you stay here on Christmas?” you wonder, venturing further into knowing him.

His shoulders slump a little bit, like he’s not really happy with how this turned either. “I don’t really talk to a lot of my family anymore.”

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t…” you start and he waves you off.

“No, no, it’s fine. You asked me about being successful and still living here with housemates. I told you most of the story, but not all of it,” he admits.

Without thinking about it, you get up from your chair to sit beside him. Put your hand on his arm to let him know that he doesn’t have to share this part of himself if he doesn’t want to or if he’s not ready. But, he insists he wants to share it with you now that you’ve also heard some of his music. His grandfather owned his house and got it from his grandfather before him. Jihoon had always been close to his grandparents. He was the only grandkid to come around and help them with things. His grandmother would try to teach him how to cook, even though he was never very good. She also taught him all sorts of games, that’s where he got a lot of that from. His grandfather taught him how to fix a car himself, how to fix things around the house, just how to be able to rely on yourself. They were the first ones that he told about wanting to make music and the first to encourage him even when the rest of the family thought it was stupid. They were the first ones to find out he’d gotten his first shot at just seventeen years old. They were the ones who taught him how to be careful with his money, to not blow it all because you never knew when the next shot would come. In the end, it wasn’t even old age that took them. A car accident on a snowy night took his grandmother. He lost his grandfather six months later from a broken heart.

It’s hard to remember that time because they were everything to him. He hadn’t even realized that they had changed their Will. That they had rewritten it to leave everything to him. If he had known, he never would have accepted it. But, there was a letter, too, confirming his grandfather had been of sound mind when they changed it. It went on to say that Jihoon was the only one in the family that came around just because he wanted to. So, he was the only one they felt could care for their legacy after they were gone. Something like that, it brings out the worst in people. Jihoon’s family was no different. First, they all insisted that he should share it, that they were owed part of it by blood. And then, they started to realize that he had his own success already. That he was selling songs and working with more people. They didn’t know who, exactly, because he never told him his pseudonym for producing, but the final letter from his grandfather mentioned how proud they had been. It got even uglier from there. Family members he’d never spoken to came out of the woodwork asking for favors or saying he should help. He had the means to do it, by his own success and the inheritance. In the end, he wound up cutting most of them out unless they were able to understand that they weren’t entitled to something he earned.

“So that’s why I stay here, it’s just easier,” he finishes.

You’re not even sure when you started crying, but you turn away to wipe your eyes. It’s not even your sadness. When you turn back, you find Jihoon looking closed-off. It breaks your heart all over again as you reach out to him. “Nobody should have to deal with that. What they did, what they put you through, it’s awful.”

“We all have history, right?” he asks. “I just don’t like to share it because I don’t want to be questioning if people like me for me or for what I could do for them.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I still see you as a former grumpy cat, secret softie and my…” you start, but trail off, trying to find the right word.

“Landlord?” he suggests through a humorless laugh. It makes your eyes soften at him.

“No, friend,” you decide.

“I just dumped a bunch of trauma on you and you wanna be my friend?” he asks, partly self-deprecating, partly hopeful.

“You don’t seem so bad,” you shrug.

“I guess we’ll see,” he says softly.

The rest of the night is lighter, mostly with you trying to figure out more things he likes as subtly as possible. He laughs when you come downstairs with the presents you’re saving until Christmas to open because he can tell Jun’s right away. You don’t tell him that you’ve already ordered half a dozen small things that’ll be at the house by Christmas Eve so that you can wrap them all up for him. You just want to see his face.

Two days before Christmas, you and Jihoon finish off the decorations and pick up groceries. Well, you’re the one who picks up groceries after insisting on splitting the bill. Jihoon has another mysterious errand that he has to run. Even though you really want to know, you decide to let him have his secrets. At least for now. You’re beginning to understand that he trusts you and he’ll tell you whatever it is when he’s ready, if it even has anything to do with you at all.

When the morning of Christmas Eve dawns, you’re actually excited. The past few days have been a whirlwind, and you’re definitely not done, but the house feels like Christmas. Three days ago you never would have thought Jihoon was enough to bring that holiday joy into the house. Now, you’re so insanely thankful that he’s gone above and beyond. Without anyone else around, or any other distractions, it’s been like a crash course in getting to know each other. There’s so much more to him than you ever realized.

The day passes in a haze of cooking, wrapping last minute presents, and laughter. Lots of laughter. You’ve heard Jihoon laugh more in the last couple days than in the entire time you’ve lived here. Not for the first time, you think it’s a wonderful sound and wish he’d laugh more. It’s easy to understand why he doesn’t, why he’s so guarded, but still. A person can dream.

With all the food prepped and the tree perfectly decorated, you decide it’s time to put your additional presents underneath. Jihoon huffs when you say you just got him a few small things you thought he’d like, before returning with a handful of presents for you. Every fiber of your being wants to give him shit over it. But, it’s Christmas, so you just call a truce instead. And light up like a kid when he suggests starting a fire in the fireplace.

“I’ll go make adult hot cocoa,” you tell him when he starts crumpling up old newspapers for the base of the fire.

“Adult hot cocoa?” he asks, face scrunched up like he’s adorably confused.

“Unless you just want the non-alcoholic version,” you offer.

“I’ll at least try it,” he concedes. His smile is soft when you squeal and run off to the kitchen.

By the time you’ve melted the chocolate (because who uses a premade mix in a kitchen this nice?), Jihoon has the fire going and is sitting on the couch. You’re about to ask why he’s scrolling his phone when he presses a button and Christmas music softly starts playing through the speakers. You hand over his mug and watch as he takes a sip. Even if he tries to hide it, you can tell he loves it and your smile is victorious. Probably why he tries to hide it.

You’re onto your second mug and asking Jihoon to find a blanket so that you can sit on the floor in front of the couch. It’s easier to stretch out closer to the fire. As is his way, he whines about how it’ll be too warm, even though you tell him he doesn’t have to sit with you. Still, he gets the blanket and plops down right next to you, so close that you’re almost touching. It only takes a couple minutes before he’s complaining that it’s really warm and then pulling off his sweatshirt. Your retort dies on your lips when you turn your head to the side and see the way the sweatshirt pulls his t-shirt up on the way. Or how muscular his arms look now that they’re exposed. You’re thankful that you look away before he catches you.

It’s quiet between the two of you as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace. There’s only comfort now, unlike a few days ago. That strikes you. Has it only been a few days since this man was something of a stranger to you? It almost feels like a lifetime ago. When you turn your head to him, you find he’s already looking at you.

“Can I admit something?” you ask.

“Course,” he says softly.

“I’m really glad I decided to stay here for Christmas,” you say, equally softly. You want to take a mental image of the smile that follows.

“Can I admit something, too?” he asks. You only nod. “I’m really glad you did too. This is the best Christmas I’ve had in years and it’s still only Christmas Eve.”

Before you can think better of it, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. Just for a second. Then you drop your head to his shoulder and let out a sigh. It’s the most content you’ve felt in a long time. Jihoon adjusts his arm, and you worry he doesn’t want your head on his shoulder, until he just moves it along the edge of the couch. It lets you lean against him easier, so you scoot a little closer and settle again. After another minute, he rests his head on top of yours. Without even seeming to realize it, his arm curls around your shoulder, holding you tight to him. It makes you acutely aware of his body next to yours. Moments ago, you were thinking that you could fall asleep like this. Now, you’re wide awake.

He must sense some kind of change because he pulls his head up. “Are you okay?”

His voice is so gentle, so full of concern. You wonder how he can sound so calm when your brain is overthinking everything. “Yeah, I just, I don’t know. Being close to you like this is really nice and not at all what I was expecting.”

Jihoon reaches out to tilt your chin up so that he can look you in the eyes. “It doesn’t have to be something you’re not expecting. It is nice to be close to you like this.”

That’s the other thing you can’t really believe has changed so much in a matter of days. This man is a walking contradiction in so many ways. Grumpy as a default, yet so incredibly soft. The most private person you’ve met, yet willing to share why he struggles with Christmas. Rough around the edges, yet also unfailingly kind. Constantly wearing oversized clothes, yet secretly really fit. Okay, maybe that’s not so much a contradiction as you checking him out.

“What if I was open to it being more than just being close?” you venture.

“How much is in your adult hot cocoa?” he asks, with some obvious difficulty.

“Enough to make me a little more honest, maybe, but not even enough to get buzzed on,” you answer.

“Then, I can say if you’re open to more than just being close, I really fucking want to kiss you,” he says. “I have all day.”

“Just all day?” you tease. He gives you an unimpressed look. “What are you waiting for?”

“You to say it’s okay,” he says and leans closer to you.

“It’s okay, Ji,” you whisper, lips already nearly touching.

You’re expecting a soft kiss, are as prepared for that as you can be. And it starts off relatively soft, like he’s testing the waters. It quickly morphs into anything, but soft. It’s the kind of kiss that sets your entire body on fire. The kind of kiss that steals your breath and becomes the only thing you need. It’s steady and desperate, all at the same time. You’re not even sure how your hands find their way into his hair that curls along his neck. It’s even softer than you imagined it would be.

“So, is this your move?” you ask, pulling away just long enough to catch your breath.

“What?” he asks. His lips are already a little swollen.

“Getting the fire going with a little music on in the background,” you tease.

“Trust me,” he begins, punctuating his words with featherlight kisses along your neck. “I’ve never gone to this much trouble for anyone and it definitely wasn’t to get here.”

The confession is so honest. So serious. It’s completely at odds with your teasing. But, should you really expect anything else from Jihoon? He can tease with the best of them, for sure. The last few days he’s also shown that you bring out an honesty that surprises him. You’re not sure if you trust yourself to speak, so you just pull his face up to kiss him again. It’s kind of an uncomfortable position, leaning against the couch, but you’re also not really sure if you care. That is, you’re not sure you care until he turns to pull you into his lap. It’s a little awkward and you have to break the kiss to get settled. Once you’re settled, though, it’s much nicer to be straddled across him like this. Much easier to press your chest into his and keep tangling your fingers in his hair. Much easier for him to wrap his arms around you like he doesn’t want you to go anywhere. You want to tell him that there’s nowhere else in the world you’d rather be.

As you kiss him, you let your hands wander down his arms. There’s a safety in being held by him. There’s a strength to him you really never realized, kind of quiet like he is, a little unassuming. The kind of strength that sneaks up on you when you’re not really expecting it. Not only does every part of your body respond to him, but your mind does too. It’s just safe. You’re not sure how you know, you just do. He’s the kind of person that you can really trust to see all of you and still accept you. It’s entirely too much to be feeling about someone this fast, so you push that aside. When you inch your bodies closer together, your core drags across him and sends an ache through you. You do it several more times, back and forth, craving that friction.

“Fuck,” he hisses out.

“I’m sorry, is that too much?” you worry. Suddenly a little self-conscious that there’s been some kind of miscommunication.

He grabs your chin and pulls you back to look into his eyes. “No. It’s never too much. I want whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“But, you don’t know what I’m…” you start. His eyes are serious, intense. You’re burning up and it has nothing to do with the fire.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, I’ll happily take it. Even if that means it doesn’t go past this,” he reassures you.

“I think I want it all,” you whisper.

“You think you do, or you actually do?” he asks.

You study him for a moment, looking for signs that he’s going to hurry off or something. With one of his hands, he’s tracing patterns against your thigh through the material of your pants. Everything about him seems sincere. Everything seems steady.

“I do.”

It’s a different smile he gives you then, one that says he’s relieved, maybe even a little surprised. One that says he’s genuinely happy. But, most of all, one that says he just wants whatever the night turns into.

“Let’s go upstairs, I don’t want you hurting your knees like this,” he says softly.

You look over your shoulder at the fireplace and he follows your gaze. “We should…”

“I’ll take care of that, just go upstairs. To my room,” he says and you suppress a slight shudder at being told what to do. You kind of like that side of him. “Get comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You get off his lap, quietly thankful for his consideration of your knees and kiss him softly. It’s also easy to see that he’s giving you a little bit of time to be sure. To clear your head away from the tree and the fire and the holiday everything. It’s time you don’t need because you’re definitely sure. The second you step foot through his door, you realize that you’ve never been in his bedroom before. It’s beautifully decorated in a way that screams him. When you sit down on the edge of the bed, you sigh. It’s so comfortable.

This part hasn’t ever been the easiest for you, the waiting for someone to come into the room and knowing what’s going to happen. But, you do know what’s happening and sitting there completely clothed seems silly. In the end, you settle for leaving your sleeveless shirt and underwear on, but taking everything else off, including your bra. You just have time to sit back against the bed when he walks through the door and closes it behind him. Force of habit, you assume, since there isn’t anyone else home. His eyes drink you in, scanning down your body and all your curves. It’s so immediately comfortable that you don’t have the urge to cover back up.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he utters and it makes you blush a little. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not in a while when I’ve been this undressed,” you answer quietly with your head down.

You feel the bed dip and look up at him, sitting right in front of you. “That’s crazy. You’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known.”

“You’re so sweet,” you say with a smile.

“It’s what you deserve,” he says and gets back off the bed.

It’s his turn to remove the layers, stopping when all he has are his boxer briefs. You fight back a gasp (and lose, as is evident by his smirk) when he takes off his shirt. What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what the fuck? Come here,” you request. He listens, but takes his time. When he’s within your reach, you run your fingers along his stomach. Trace each ab muscle like you can’t believe this is what’s been under the shirt the whole time.

“I work about a bit,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“A bit, he says,” you tease back.

“Can I get in the bed now? Or do I have to stay here?” he asks.

“You can get in bed, but I want to be in your lap again,” you state.

“Fine by me,” he readily agrees.

There’s a weird sense of time with him. You could kiss him for hours, may just do that. It also feels like it’s only been seconds when you pull back to catch your breath. You delight in the way he hisses when you run your nails down his stomach. Yelp when he smacks your ass in response. But, it doesn’t stop you from doing it again, maybe just so you can get another smack. You tell him not to be too gentle with you and he groans. There’s still that little bit of clothing between you, though, and it’s hard to get the friction you need.

It’s like he senses what you want, or maybe what you need, and he positions you over one of his thighs. Helps you move back and forth to find a rhythm. It gives you that friction that you’ve been craving. He peppers kisses all over, trying to find the places that you like. Lingers wherever gets the best noises out of you. All while you grind against his thigh. When you think it can’t get better, he pulls your shirt up over your head and casts it aside. He rolls one of your nipples between his fingers. The look on his face when you arch into his fingers is so satisfied. It makes him carry on while also kissing across your chest.

“Fuck, Ji, if I keep this up I’m gonna come on your thigh,” you whimper.

“So do it,” he answers.

“I can’t, that’s…” you start, cutting off when he sucks hard into the skin of your breast. “Fuck!”

“That’s what?” he prompts, returning to your nipple.

“I can’t come just from this,” you mutter lamely. It makes you feel like a teenager.

“Then I better help because I want you to make a mess,” he says.

Before you can protest, he’s kissing you again. His thumb hooks into your underwear and rubs across your clit in time with you rocking. It’s too much all at once. Too much stimulation. Too close. Too different. It all works, though, because you’re coming undone in seconds. Making a mess of his thigh just like he wanted. Screaming out his name and thankful to know nobody else can hear you. You lean forward to rest your forehead against his, trying to steady your breathing.

“That was so hot,” he whispers into the limited space between you.

“I’ve never gotten off like that before,” you admit.

“I wonder if there’s anything else I can pull out of you for the first time,” he says.

“Like what?” you wonder.

“I guess we’ll see,” he answers

“I think it’s time for me to take care of you,” you say.

He kisses you gently and pulls away. “Not yet.”

“But,” you start, only to cut off when he flips the two of you over.

The shock over being completely manhandled by Jihoon is all you register until you feel his fingers by your hips, tugging your ruined underwear down your legs. All you can do is watch as he kisses from your ankle all the way up your inner thigh and down the other side. When he pulls himself back up your body to settle between your legs, you shiver. Try to play it off as his breath against your cunt, still slick. You watch as he spreads your lips open so that he can lick into you.

“Fuck, Ji,” you whine out.

“Just relax, sweetheart,” he urges before diving into you again.

You’re expecting it to be a little frenzied. Not that you’ve never enjoyed getting eaten out, but you just kind of see it as foreplay to get through. That was before Jihoon, apparently. He takes his time, carefully builds you up again. Has you begging for something more. Has you uttering phrases that don’t make any sense. Has you seeing stars in the darkness of the room. Has you feeling the loss when he removes his mouth.

“No, Ji, please,” you beg. “Your tongue feels so good.”

“I know,” he says and then he’s kissing you.

He keeps kissing you as he runs a finger through your wetness, once and then again. Keeps kissing you when he slides his finger inside of you. Nips at your lip when you moan at the addition of his second finger. You can feel how tightly you’re coiled from the build up with his tongue. The way he fucks his fingers into you, you know you won’t last long. It’s hard and fast and as desperate as you felt moments ago when you begged for him. He’s relentless, even when your walls grip his fingers and your toes start to curl. You come so hard on his finger that he actually has you squirting. And honestly, he’s got you blacking out a little bit too.

“Jesus fucking christ,” you curse when he falls beside you. “Your fingers, your mouth, oh my god.”

“I’d ask if it was good, but I think I know the answer,” he chuckles.

You swat at his chest, but he catches your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. So tender that it takes the bite out of your next statement. “Fuck off.”

“Your body is so amazing, I could watch you come every day and never get sick of it,” he admits.

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him. He’s laying on his back, hand casually running over his already hard dick through his briefs. You move his hand and free him. There’s a hunger in his gaze as he watches you spit into your hand and start running it along his shaft.

“Go slow,” he requests and you look at up at him. “Watching you is so hot that I’m a little wound up. And I still want to fuck you.”

“Jihoon, you’ve already…” you start.

“Please. You can take care of me anytime. I want to feel you around me,” he whispers. It’s not quite a beg, but it’s close. All you can do is nod okay. “I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Ji, I want you to fuck me,” you say.

He rolls over on the bed to reach into the bedside table and rustles around for a minute. The sign before he rolls back over sounds bad. “I don’t have a condom. It’s, uh, well it’s been awhile.”

“It’s okay,” you say.

“I guess maybe this will have to…” he starts.

“No, I mean it’s fine. I’m on birth control and it’s been awhile for me too, so it’s fine. I trust you,” you say, finding you do actually trust him.

“Are you sure?” he checks.

“Fuck, yes, please. I don’t care that you’ve made me come twice already, please fuck me,” you insist and it works. He smiles and slides his briefs off.

In another second, he’s positioning himself between your legs again. You lay back against the pillow behind your head and just look up at him, so impossibly fond. It’s too soon to be this fond. But, you see the same look in his eyes, so maybe you’re not alone. He lines himself up and drags his tip against your entrance. Opens the lube you hadn’t even noticed and takes it into his hand. He lets it warm up for a second before running his hand over his dick. Then, he’s back at your entrance and slowly pressing into you. He takes his time letting you adjust, watches your face for signs that it’s okay. He leans forward to kiss you and it’s so gentle you want to cry.

You’re glad this is slow, that he’s taking his time. It’s not that you’re inexperienced, it’s just that you can’t remember the last time you felt this comfortable with anyone. You’re not sure you’ve ever known how nice it was to just look into someone’s eyes while you’re fucking. Not sure you’ve wanted to be this close. Jihoon’s body is pressed against yours as he thrusts into you, but it’s still not enough. You wrap your legs around his hips, run your fingers down his back, arch into him. Anything to meld your bodies together that much more. He’s not as vocal now, but you’re probably taking care of that for both of you. You can see all the things he wants to say in the eyes that stay trained on you.

His thrusts start to get a little off rhythm and your moans become more broken. “Fuck, Ji, yes! Right there.”

“I’m gonna fucking come, oh my god,” he moans out.

“Me too,” you whine. “Fuck, it’s too much.”

“Come for me, please, I need to feel you,” he very nearly begs.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” you scream out.

Your whole body shudders and you sort of register the praise coming from Jihoon. He follows right behind you, releasing into you. You can tell he’s trying to keep his weight off of you, but you pull him to just let go. Reluctantly, he settles his body down on top of yours. The weight is pleasant and being close to him is even better. After a moment, his breathing falls into line with yours. It’s several moments longer before he carefully pulls out of you and rolls to the side.

“Wow,” he says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” you agree.

It’s much later than usual for you by the time you wake up on Christmas morning. But, it had been late by the time you and Jihoon had gotten cleaned up and back in bed. Even later by the time you stopped wanting to talk while all cuddled up. When you wake up, you feel his chest pressed into your back and his arm draped across your body. The second you start to move, his arm tightens and he somehow pulls you closer to him. He presses kiss into your hair.

“Merry Christmas,” he says, voice thick with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” you answer.

He adjusts behind you and you realize he’s a little hard again, pressing into your ass. Even though you know it’s not fair, you wiggle your ass against him. You’re more than a little surprised when he bucks, just once, into you in response.

“Sorry, I’m sure you’re a little sore this morning,” he says, still hoarse.

“Not so sore,” you answer, pressing back again.

“Don’t you want to see what’s under the tree?” he asks, the teasing clear in his voice.

You turn over so you’re facing him. “I think I’d rather unwrap this present first.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he groans. But, he pulls you against him all the same, clearly not opposed.

Once you’re both showered again and dressed, you pad downstairs and straight into the kitchen to find Jihoon is already at the counter getting the coffee going. He looks so cute with his messy, wet hair, that you can’t help yourself. You have to come up and hug him from behind. Place a kiss between his shoulder blades and then rest your head. All he can do is just put a hand over yours.

“What do you want for breakfast?” you ask when you pull away.

“The cinnamon rolls you insisted we had to have,” he says like it’s obvious.

By the time you get those in the oven, he’s handing you a perfect cup of coffee, exactly the way you like it. It feels like neither of you can be physically separated. Hands finding each other as you move around the kitchen. Little kisses as you pass by. Just drawn together like magnets. Once the cinnamon rolls come out, and you add the extra icing that you insisted on, the two of you head to the living room.

You think you were supposed to text or call Jun when you open his present, but you’re a little stuck on opening the things Jihoon got you at the last minute. He insists that you go first and open your presents so that he can see your reaction. The first couple are silly, but thoughtful. Just little things that show he’s actually been paying attention to you much longer than you realized. Not that he had some kind of crush or anything, just that he pays attention when people talk. When you think you’re done, he pulls out a small box.

“I wanted you to open this last,” he says in response to your confused look.

It’s a small box, very nicely wrapped. You open it to find a beautiful necklace, simple and stunning. Exactly the kind of thing you like to wear. But, exactly the type of thing you can’t accept. “JIhoon, it’s beautiful. But, you must know it’s too much. I can’t take this.”

“I didn’t spend anything on it,” he assures you and slides closer so he can look down at it in the box. “It was my grandmother’s. And before you say you can’t take it again, she’d want someone to have it. She wanted to pass her jewelry on, but was so sick of our family. I think she’d really like you, so I want you to have it.”

“Thank you,” you say softly and lean forward to kiss him.

Watching Jihoon open the little things that you got him is everything you hoped it would be. He’s so appreciative of each thing, even if they seem small to you. They’re all things he says he really needs. To him, that’s one of the best kinds of gifts because it shows that you’re listening. It shows that you want to make someone else’s life just a little easier. It nearly makes you emotional when he’s the one opening things.

You want to stay curled up on the couch with Jihoon forever, watching stupid Christmas movies and invading his personal space. He grumbles a little at you clinging to him, but pouts the second you pull away. Sadly, you have to get up to start some of the cooking for Christmas dinner. Jihoon offers to help, knows you’re feeling a little sore, and you wave him off. Cooking at Christmas is one of your favorite things. You get your music going and don’t even register anything else. You don’t hear his footsteps or his voice talking to someone.

“Hey, Ji? Do you think I should make all the rolls? Probably, right?” you ask and turn around to see he’s standing in the doorway holding his phone up.

“Did my bestie just call you Ji?” a voice asks from the phone.

“Uh, yeah,” Jihoon answers and closes the distance to you. He hands over the phone. “Jun was looking for you.”

“Oh, hi, Junie! How’s your parents’?” you ask. His eyes scan you and you look down too late. You’re not wearing your shirt, it’s one of Jihoon’s that you stole because it was more comfortable.

“Not as good as it is there, apparently,” Jun says with a giggle.

“Oh, well, you see…” you start and Jun is cackling.

“I’ll let you get back to cooking, but expect to have a long conversation when I’m home,” he says once he stops laughing.

“You sound like my parent,” you whine.

“Just try and tell me there’s nothing to talk about,” Jun challenges and you look over at Jihoon sitting at the kitchen table.

“I can’t,” you say, still looking at him.

“I knew it,” Jun says, triumphant. “Give the phone back to Ji…”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Jihoon chimes in.

“So much to talk about,” Jun repeats as you hand the phone back over.

The rest of the afternoon passes too quickly. Jihoon stays in the kitchen with you when you have to cook and lounges on the couch with you watching movies when you’re waiting for things to finish. He helps wherever he can and genuinely seems to appreciate the effort that you’re taking. Well, he appreciates it almost as much as the dinner itself when you sit down to eat. Without question, it’s the best Christmas you can remember. It turns out that maybe you were right all along. Christmas wasn’t about presents or specific people or anything. It was about feeling joy and thankful and just a deep connection with whoever you were with. It makes you realize you do need to talk to Jihoon, though.

After dinner, the two of you settle back on the couch with a glass of wine. His free hand traces patterns into your legs that are across his lap. “Hey, so about what Jun said…”

“Jun is an idiot,” Jihoon brushes off.

“He is, but he also has a point. There’a a lot to talk about,” you say. He turns his head to look at you.

“I meant what I said last night, I’ll take whatever you want to give me,” he says and takes another sip of wine.

“But, that’s so…I don’t know,” you start, searching for the words.

He just shrugs like you’re talking about something so simple. Maybe you are. “I’m pretty open about things when I’m comfortable. I’m also kind of an all in or all out guy. I don’t know, that’s probably too much. I’m happy with whatever you’re comfortable giving me.”

“You’re going to make me fall for you, Lee Jihoon,” you tease lightly. You’re also testing a little bit.

He smiles at you, that soft one that makes his eyes crinkle. “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.”

“I guess it doesn’t,” you agree.

“Thank you for being the best thing about Christmas in a long time,” he says. So honest. It’s so simple, too.

“It’s been perfect,” you agree. “The only thing that could make it better is…”

“Snow,” he interrupts.

“Yeah,” you agree.

He shakes his head and points to the window. “No, it’s snowing.”

You turn your head to follow his finger and see he’s right. Snow falls in light, beautiful swirls just outside the window. You can’t remember the last white Christmas you had, even living somewhere it snows.

“Wow, this really is the perfect Christmas,” you whisper.

i hope you liked it. please reblog or leave a comment to let me know your thoughts 💕

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yoongsisbae · 2 years ago

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Stories by Member

JJK

Not a Creature was Stirring You wake up Christmas Eve night not to find Santa, but to find a man cold and shivering on your front porch. Clothes tattered, cuts on his body, out in the snow. You find out he’s not as helpless as he appears. Kind of cute, kind of scary, very buff Jungkook Fantasy AU. Spring Day Still with You [Sequel to Not a Creature was Stirring] You ran away from the cold, Jungkook ran with you, warming each other’s hearts. But within the cycle of life, there is death, and as spring blooms, the blood still lays soaked in the dirt. You ran and they chased. Hybrid!Jungkook.

Banana Milk It’s Jungkook’s Birthday, will he get his birthday wish?

The Fantasy You and your boyfriend try out a new form of role play, but it just keeps going wrong…

I Didn’t Mean It, I Still Love You Yoongi made a mistake, will you forgive him? Or is it too late?

Ddak-ji SLAP Jungkook, Seokjin, and you decide to play a game…and then you fu-

Campfire Burning A steamy fic inspired by a certain vlive.

Seven Days a Week Every day, Jungkook shows you his devotion, deeper than the ocean. Seven different scenarios, seven days a week. idol!jungkook x noona!reader

Go Home, You're Drunk! - 75% “Who…are…you…” “Your worst nightmare, sweetheart.” “Really? Because you look like you belong in a boyband.” whacky and dark & for all the girlies who love an unhinged yandere character

The Snap - 70% The only surviving member of BTS, it takes Jungkook five years to find happiness again. And then life snapped back. What is Jungkook going to do now?

KTH

Christmas with a Vampire There once was a time when holidays were warm and special, Taehyung remembers. To you, even in his coldness, Taehyung is all you need for Christmas. Cyber-punk futuristic AU with a self-hating vampire Tae.

BTS Song Fic (Blue and Grey) Sad song. Sad story. Sad author. Happy reader?

V is for Villain 1 / 2 / 3 - 90% What does it mean to be a villain? What does it really mean to be a vigilante? A vanquisher of evil or a victor for the good? Stories praise the fall of devils, cheer at the marvels of the virtuous, and forget the victorious tell a version conveniently veiling their own atrocities. Evilness was once the brightest star in heaven. And goodness, well, morality can so often be contentious. This time, there is the hero with the strength of a hundred men, there is the villain that can vanish his vulnerabilities in a very instant, and then there’s you. Superclumsysuperhero!RMverse AU.

PJM

Christmas Mass Every Sunday, like clockwork, as designed and ordained, you sit quietly. Pray. Christmas mass comes, tonight your congregation dresses beautifully, like ornaments placed in a row right in front of God. Your priest, stands at the head like an angel atop the tree, commanding and pious and hauntingly handsome. Red. You’re a good faithful girl. You were taught to be, punished to be. You pray for respite, for something more than the condemnation this cold and icy town bestows upon you. Sinners. The coldness permeates your bones, you’re always scared. Tainted. Terrified of sin, terrified by your thoughts for your priest. Sacrilegious. This Christmas prayers are answered by no God. Demon AU. Dark smut.

You Asked for Help, He Asked Your Name You ran away from your responsibilities, but they caught you and tried to lay claim to your body. If your life was never going to be yours anyways, you decided might as well give it away and make a deal. fairyprince!Jimin

KNJ

Your Friendly Neighborhood Superhero, RM Best friends 2 Lovers. Idiots 2 Lovers. Lovers 2 Enemies? This is a different kind of superhero story ;) Christmas Lights Out! Agust D vs RM Super Hero Christmas Special! You visit your hometown during the holidays. You and your childhood friend Joon reminisce and you learn more about your smooth tech talker business partner Yoongi. Can he win you over once and for all? Set in Super Clumsy Super Hero RM universe. Extended Scene: The Mind Reader, The Telekinetic and The Closet just silly and raunchy and ridiculous, dirty thoughts...it goes there. V is for Villain 1 / 2 / 3 - 90% What does it mean to be a villain? What does it really mean to be a vigilante? A vanquisher of evil, or a victor for the good? Stories praise the fall of devils, cheer at the marvels of the virtuous, and forget the victorious tell a version conveniently veiling their own atrocities. Evilness was once the brightest star in heaven. And goodness, well, morality can so often be contentious. This time, there is the hero with the strength of a hundred men, there is the villain that can vanish his vulnerabilities in a very instant, and then there’s you.

I Appreciate Your Apology A Christmas party has you on thin ice with your favorite dom. Daddy Joon appreciates your apology, but does he accept it? daddydom!Joon smut, PWP, filth, aka Joon edging you until you see sleighbells.

Cold Feet You don’t want to get married anymore, what does Namjoon want?

JHS

Day Dream The days are hotter, the nights are hotter too. You sleep, restless. Tired, you sleep more, you sleep and you dream and you meet the dream walker and things somehow become even steamier. Sandman!Hoseok Dream Analysis / Alternate Ending

Disco Winter Ball You and your friend Hoseok are best friend buddies going on a date to the annual disco winter ball. But it’s not a date date, okay? You and Hoseok just love music and you love dancing and Hoseok loves watching you dance. Wait not love, not in that way! A friendly love. Just friends. Just two friends who drink a little too much eggnog. HOAL couple holiday special

I Thought You Were Mine? Drunk arguing leads to drunk fuc–

MYG

The Woman with the Black Cat on Her Shoulder Fearful, they buried them, stomped them into the dirt. Underneath their boot, scared men were unaware the seeds of hope had planted by their own volition. From the dirt and grime, grew flowers, blooms so tall, eclipsing their hatred. You were strong and unwilling to be cut down any more. Shapeshiftercat!yoongi.

Yoongi is a Rock That’s it. That’s the plot. Yoongi is a rock. Audio Ver. by the talented @voice-over-ff

I Didn’t Mean It, I Still Love You Yoongi made a mistake, will you forgive him? Or is it too late?

Christmas Lights Out! Agust D vs RM Super Hero Christmas Special! You visit your hometown during the holidays. You and your childhood friend Joon reminisce and you learn more about your smooth tech talker business partner Yoongi. Can he win you over once and for all? Set in Super Clumsy Super Hero RM universe.

King of Corruption [Sequel to Christmas Mass] The organ player takes his time with you, holding you and caressing your body while you sleep, until you can’t discern your dreams from your reality. A king and a sleeping beauty, his name leaves your lips like a prayer, prostated at his feet in blind reverence…the perfect position for him to corrupt and defile you. Demon AU. Dark smut.

KSJ

The Flower Bridge You couldn’t, you didn’t want to, not anymore, the pain was too much, you wanted it to end, so you visited the bridge. Standing at the highest point, the wind stung, but your problems were bigger, your pain was stronger than the whipping air and your anguish deeper than the water below. Tethered in the center, connecting the place you came from and the place you were going, you found another type of bridge and he found you. Ghost!Seokjin.

Meet Cute, Time Loop A story where Seokjin loves you before you love him before he loves you.

Ddak-ji SLAP Jungkook, Seokjin, and you decide to play a game…and then you fu-

Seokjin’s Ho Ho Ho Your boyfriend surprises you with a Christmas dinner on the beach, things get a little steamy, candy canes get sucked, peppermint liquor might be involved, there is definitely some questionable Santa Costume attire, and lots of jolly lovin’! HOAL couple holiday special.

Christmas Lights Out! Agust D vs RM Super Hero Christmas Special! Extended Scene: The Mind Reader, The Telekinetic and The Closet just silly and raunchy and ridiculous, dirty thoughts...it goes there.

Gangnam Girlfriend: Korea’s #1 Celebrity Dating Show with your Host, International Super Star, Jin Welcome to Gangnam Girlfriend! Where Korea’s top eligible singles fight for a chance at love! You're supposed to be playing the dating game right? Not sneaking off in the middle of the night with the show’s host to watch the stars and talk about all your lost love connections, cuddling under a blanket. And even if the choice is clear, Kim Seokjin can't date you, the reason you joined is because you wanted a public relationship, and Jin could neverrr. Even though he wants to finally settle down! But Hybe wouldn't let him join as a contestant so he took the next best thing instead, our story's beloved host, yet now he's regretting his decision as he watches the girl he is starting to fall for fall for someone else, oh no! Meet the Cast / Epi1 - 85%

OT7

SERIES

Bon Voyage: Into the Sea [Fantasy AU] A storm capsized your boat and looks like you were the only survivor. Somehow you made it to shore, but where? Stranded, you suddenly find out you are not alone, and now you’re stuck in the middle of a centuries old conflict between 7 monsters. Member Imagines /Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4 / Ch5 / Ch6 / Ch7 - 5% / ?

Handshakes of a Lifetime [Soulmate AU] …the meeting room is getting closer and closer, basking you and those around you in warm light, and you think about all the internet comments people write about this kind of moment, “she must have saved a country in her past life to experience this.” Playlist / Ch1 / Drabble - JJK / Ch2 / Ch3 / X-mas - JHS / Ch4 / X-mas - KSJ / Ch5 / Ch6 / Ch7 / Ch8 / Ch9 / Ch10 - 10% / ?

Caught! House of Cards [Yandere AU] You needed money. The pandemic offered little options. So you joined a website to make some quick and easy cash. Men paying to look at you, harmless fun, right? It was a decision you didn’t think too much about, you just wanted an income again. Little did you know how dangerous the members of House of Cards were. You weren’t prepared for the consequences of your actions. Watch out! Houses built with cards come tumbling down… Profiles / Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 / Ch4 / Xmas Drabble - KTH / Ch5 - 90% / ?

Run Run Run [Zombie Apocalypse AU Slow Burn] A zombie apocalypse breaks out and you’re stuck on a plane with none other than…BTS! Oh, you thought because you were an Army that would help you survive? Girl think again. Member Poll / Seoul Flow / Yangyang Living / Seoul Town Road / Hwarang Freestyle / Seoul Close / Samsung State of Mind - 5% / The Big Hit Break In! - TBA / ?

T H E T A K E O V E R [BTS Apocalypse / Dystopian AU Thriller] The recruits of Bangtan Academy were trained to be super soldiers, to be the strongest, fastest, most cunning fighters in the world. Now they are being put to the test! You were at the bottom of your class, but you noticed the cracks in the system first, what are you going to do? Run or try to save the world Prequel / Ch1 / Ch2 / Ch3 - 78% / ?

DRABBLES

BTS (as kisses) / BTS (as holidays) / BTS (as drinks)

BTS Cheering You Up While Studying Korean

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prodagustd · 1 year ago

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the road not taken | myg

part one: back home

Summary: To have the job you’ve always wanted and the life you’ve always dreamt of you had to break a few hearts, including your own. Four years later after running away from your home, your family and friends, you realized that maybe you fucked up; you’ve been a bad daughter, a bad sister and a bad friend. Getting your shit together seemed difficult enough, you didn’t expect that it included facing the first man who ever broke your heart: your brother’s best friend.

part two>

—pairing: lawyer!yoongi x actress!oc

—rating: +18

—genre: brother's best friend, one sided pinning (or both?)

—warnings/tags: angst, fluff, eventual smut, angst, sexual tension? lmao, slow burn, flashbacks, ANGST!! Btw english is not my first language !!

—words: 12k

—a/note: literally finding the courage to post this rn because yesterday i had an identity crisis and i wanted to delete everything!!! but i hope you like it more than me <3 feedback is very much appreciated, if you want to be on the taglist pls let me know!!

series masterlist | teaser | playlist

Four years ago.

In your almost twenty one years of life, you never had to spend the holidays without your eldest brother, you were never prepared for that. All the attention of your family was fixed on you now, making you feel like you were an only child for the first time. It felt weird, but nostalgic, like you were waiting for him to enter through the door at any moment. You supposed it was going to happen at some point, opening the gifts with just your mom, sitting on the front seat of the car for the first time while listening to christmas songs on the radio, only to arrive to your grandparents’ home and attempt to survive the questions of your future alone, that didn’t sound fun at all.

Simon, your eldest brother, didn’t die, by the way, he just got a girlfriend. A girlfriend? Yes, a girlfriend, that word wasn’t part of his vocabulary, or at least it wasn’t a few years ago when he left for college, but now all of a sudden he had a serious one, the kind who invited their boyfriends to spend the holidays with their families. Now Simon wore knitted sweaters, drank black coffee and listened to all the bands your uncle liked, he grew up, or something like that, but you didn’t think he grew up enough to get a girlfriend, to fall in love. Well, you hoped he was in love, you didn’t meet the girl yet but you hoped he was, at least that was what he said.

Yes, Christmas without your brother sounded a bit sad, but New Year’s eve on the other hand… didn’t sound so bad.

If your brother’s absence would’ve happened years ago, you would’ve planned this the same way as always, getting drunk with your highschool friends at the only decent party that there was in your hometown around that time, only this time he wasn’t going to be around to tell you to stop drinking or to take the joint off your mouth when you failed to hide from him to smoke weed. But this year you got sick of all that, you got sick of the same faces from highschool and all the girls who approached you just because they wanted to fuck your brother, or all the girls who fucked your brother’s best friend, maybe you got sick of the same music, the same party, the same people. This year you felt like you were seventeen again, too afraid to wish that something different could happen, maybe this time you weren’t coming home alone after watching Yoongi giving the first kiss of the year to some random girl, maybe this time your heart wasn’t going to hurt that much.

Yoongi, your brother’s best friend, was painfully always there in your life, you didn’t know how the mess that was your brother was able to have such a good friend, they knew each other even before you were born, when they were only four and met each other at basketball practice. Yoongi was always like your brother’s conscience, the voice of reason, the calm one, the designated driver ever since he was sixteen, the smart one, the boy every mother wanted as their son. Yoongi was the boy who helped you with your math homework when you were eleven, he was the boy who defended you when your brother made fun of you, the boy who gave you his joystick so you would stop crying when you found out your brother was making you play with the one that didn’t work. He was sweet and kind with everybody, you wished you knew that when you were twelve so you could save yourself the eternal heartache that came along with being in love with a man who only saw you as your brother’s little sister.

Yoongi was always mature, always wiser, always older. And you were always immature, always stubborn, always younger. Just a brat who couldn’t stand the fact that he was the only one you wanted, but the only one you couldn’t have.

Maybe forgetting about him when he went away to college was the best thing that happened to you, you pretended he didn’t exist during the school year and made yourself believe you got over it, that your heart didn’t jump every time you called your brother and you heard his voice in the background, that you didn’t read every birthday message he sent you since you were sixteen until you memorized them, that you didn’t compare every guy to him and that you weren’t annoyed when you realized that none of them was half as intelligent as him. You were obligated to pretend you weren’t condemned to look for his face in every crowd ever since you were a teenager. All that mental effort was wasted away when you came back home for the holidays and saw him sitting on your couch again.

You repeated the cycle every year as you pretended that your heart wasn’t tired of it, like seeing him that morning in your kitchen didn’t make your heart drop like you were twelve years old again.

It began when you heard voices coming from the second floor, an outburst of laughter, your mother’s laughter, and then the laugh that echoed so many times in your dreams, were you still in a dream? You thought you might be in one when you entered the kitchen and saw the long figure of the man, the long figure of Yoongi, sitting on a stool as he peeled a tangerine and listened to your mother talk, but the minute they noticed your presence they fell silent.

Two pairs of eyes landed on your sleepy face, making you aware that you were wearing your old pajamas, the one that was pink and had a bunny pattern all over it. You locked eyes with him and it felt like it hadn't passed a day since the last time you saw him.

“What are you two gossiping about so early?” You wondered out loud, slowly approaching the aisle of the kitchen, slowly approaching Yoongi, whose hair was slightly shorter from the last time you saw him and whose cheeks were still red from the cold outside. You arrived three days ago, confidently thinking that even if your mind was a mess at least you didn't have to see your brother's best friend's face.

In your mind, you cursed your mom for always telling him that he will be forever welcomed in her house.

“Why do you care?” He spat at you, following your figure with his eyes as you sat in one of the stools beside him. “That’s between your mom and me.”

“Dude,” You said under your breath, grabbing a tangerine from the bowl of fruits in front of you “You have to get a fucking girlfriend.”

Your mother frowned, annoyed, but Yoongi is too used to you to do anything else but laugh.

“God, darling, you barely open your eyes and you’re already cursing.” She complained, shaking her head in disapproval. You shrugged, pretending to pay full attention to the tangerine in your hands.

“It’s fine, Lila. I can handle her.” He said, carefree as ever.

You scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” You played it cool, as if that didn’t make your heart jump a little. “What are you doing here, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to come back for christmas?”

“Why?” He asked, “You want me gone?”

You saw a stupid smirk appear in his face, the same one you’ve seen countless times in the past. It seemed to be the only thing that could put out your cocky attitude.

“Don’t be stupid.” You managed to answer, running away from his eyes.

You heard him sigh “I finished early, I arrived last night.” He answered the question, reaching his hand under the counter to pinch your thigh, as if that could shake off your bad attitude, plot twist: it only made it worse. “That’s what I was talking about with your mom, I left Simon behind while he was still dealing with exams.”

“Such a good friend.” You joked.

“Maybe… But hey, he’s the one who ditched me for a girl after all.”

“Well, if it’s a pretty girl you can’t blame him so much.”

“If you say so…” He hissed, rolling his eyes “What about you, huh?” He changed the topic “What are you doing here two weeks early?”

“You see, this is my house.” You quickly replied, putting the first tangerine segment between your lips to avoid saying the truth. He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

Of course there was a coherent reason for why you weren’t in school right now, but since you arrived you couldn’t seem to quit the bad attitude, especially in the mornings, it was driving you crazy.

“You shouldn’t ask, dear.” Your mom intervened, turning around to wash her mug previously filled with coffee “Sensitive topic.”

Yoongi’s eyes shifted to you again, as well as his whole body, curiously raising his eyebrows.

“Sensitive topic.” You mocked your mother, annoyed that she used such words. She was quick to disappear from the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone. You wondered if she was already tired of hearing you whine.

“Don’t think I won’t ask you about it.” He smirked, stealing a segment of your tangerine just to annoy you.

Oh, you were sure he would want all the details.

“Whatever.” You gritted your teeth. “You only came to see Lila? I bet she would love to switch you with me.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Yoongi smugly said, ignoring the sudden annoyed look on your face, he was too used to it to be bothered by it. “But as much as I love your mom, I came to see you.”

You blinked, not sure what to say next. Now your angry expression turned into a surprised one, cursing yourself for feeling excited to hear that. You knew Yoongi finished early and was coming back home, you asked your brother about it last time he called you, you were just playing dumb when you asked, but when Simon told you he was going to be in town you didn’t expect to see him in your house the next day he arrived.

“Me?” You tried to confirm.

“Yeah, you.” He said, booping the tip of your nose “Simon told me you’ve been having trouble with your car, I thought I could help.”

You nodded, that made more sense than him just coming to see you.

“Simon is such a snitch.” You murmured.

“I can’t deny that…” He laughed, looking at you tearing apart your tangerine and putting another segment between your lips, “Do you… want me to help?”

“Maybe…” You murmured “Do I have to pay you?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi answered, imitating your tone “Or you can just tell me why are you here before the break, I don’t know.”

You squinted at him, knowing it was just a matter of time until everybody found out you dropped out of college, but there was certain relief in delivering the news to Yoongi, something inside you told you he would understand.

“Bold of you to blackmail me when I know you won’t fix my car properly.” You accused him, mentioning that time he tried to fix your brand new car when something happened to it and you had to take it to his uncle’s garage when he made it worse.

“C’mon, that was only once.”

“Let’s not make it twice, then.” You clapped your hands, getting off the stool to walk towards the stairs to your room again “Let me change first. And don’t try to seduce my mom while I’m gone, it won’t work.”

You heard his laugh from behind, and even if you thought about it, you didn’t dare to look back.

Not even five minutes later, you found yourself with him in your cold garage under the dim old light that provided you the tiny room. You supposed it was easier to open the garage door but you didn’t want your fingers to be frozen.

You sat on the old desk in the corner of your garage as you watched Yoongi open the hood of your car, trying not to stare when pulled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

He was wearing a beige sweater that tightened around his shoulders and his waist, Simon told you that he and Yoongi started going to gym lately and you could tell, his back was wider than you remember and you hated how different he looked from the last time you saw him.

You hated to think there were people who saw him everyday and couldn’t tell the difference.

You looked at your feet hanging in the air, hearing him suck his breath just to let you know he was just about to start throwing questions at you.

“So?” He asked, persistent as always.

“So what?” You played dumb.

“So?” He emphasized, not willing to give up.

So? You didn’t know how to start. Serious talks weren’t your thing, and even if you knew that Yoongi wasn’t expecting that from you, you still felt a rush of nervousness when the absence of his voice filled the room, your cue to start talking.

“Mmm… It’s difficult to explain.” You trailed off. “I’m starting to think that I might be the black sheep of the family.”

Your words made him turn his head at you, curious to hear more.

“The black sheep?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I think so.” You confirmed, without saying anything else.

“Fine…” Yoongi scratched the back of his head, a bit confused, something that was normal when he was with you. “You’re not giving me a lot of context.”

You knew this, but making a joke was easier than telling the whole truth. You wished you could tell him jokes until he forgot what your mother told him. But no, your mother already opened her mouth and now you had to explain your life crisis to the man in front of you.

“Let’s just say.. I dropped out of the semester…” You mumbled, unsure of your own voice “but I’m thinking that it is not just the semester, maybe it’s the whole thing.”

Yoongi turned his whole body to you, paying full attention to your words “Really?” He asked, just in case you were joking, but by the look in your eyes and the tone of your voice he could tell that you weren’t playing. You just nodded “Why, though?”

“That’s something I’ve been asking myself.”

“You don’t know?” He chuckled, making you roll your eyes.

“Maybe I don’t know.” You tried to admit, but that was a lie.

“Mmm, but I think you do know, though.” He contradicted you, turning around to keep checking your car.

“Well, kind of… Do you want me to tell you half of the truth or a lie?” You offered him, leaving him without many options.

“Well, you are not very democratic, Pinky.” He scoffed, using the not-so-funny nickname he’s been calling you ever since you were kids. Only Yoongi could still be calling you like some character from an old cartoon that aired twenty years ago. “But I choose the half truth.”

“Wise decision, as always.” You commented, clicking your tongue. “The half truth is… that being a nurse is not my thing, I don’t want to be that predictable, being the bitch in highschool that ended up being a nurse. At least I want to be the bitch in high school who ended up being something else. And I was not happy at college, not even a bit. I don’t think that’s who I am”

Yoongi frowned, trying to process all the words you just vomited. If that was half the truth, what was the whole truth?

“Wait, wait. Let’s go for parts.” He stopped you. “So, now you were a bitch in high school?”

“You know I was.” You said, rolling your eyes.

Bitch was a strong word to call yourself, but to be fair you weren't being the nicest with yourself these past weeks. You stared at him, waiting for him to admit that yes, you were a bitch when you were seventeen years old, but that would be a lie. Yoongi would never have called you a bitch, you did have an attitude, you weren’t the friendliest in the mornings, you weren’t friends with everyone, you treated boys like shit, but you weren’t a bitch to him.

“Isn’t that too… harsh?” He asked softly.

“Isn’t it the truth?” You kept pushing it, but you were crazy if you think he was going to agree with you.

Yoongi shook his head, taking a long step to break the small distance that was between the two of you so he could be in front of you. As a gentle gesture, he put his cold hands on your knees, it was not an unusual gesture, but it had been so long since you had him that close that you couldn’t help but shiver. “I know you don’t like me getting all sappy, but I hope you know that only you get to decide who you are, and if you don’t think that is a nurse, then it’s not.” He rubbed his palms on your clothed skin, searching for his last words. “But, I must say, I don’t think a bitch is who you are either.”

The cold room suddenly turned warm under his gaze, catching you with your guard down once again. You hated when he turned conversations into something like this, and worse, you hated when you bumped into the ugly reality that surrounded you when his eyes stopped looking at yours. This was not easier than last year, you wondered if it will ever be easy.

“Well, the boys in my class might disagree.” You said, looking straight into his eyes.

He laughed. “Boys at that age are dumb.”

“Boys are always dumb.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Even me?” He asked, batting his eyelashes at you like he was a little girl.

“Especially you, I bet you don’t know what the hell you are doing right now with my car.”

Yoongi reached out to try to pinch your knees, but you escaped from his fingers. “God, you’re so mean.” He complained

“So mean?” You questioned, moving closer to him and pretending to be annoyed.

“Yeah, so mean” He repeated “But not a bitch.”

You rolled your eyes, watching him turn around again to come back to your car. You can’t help but feel disappointed when he moved away. “So… If you are not a nurse, what are you?”

You tilted your head, thinking about it. What were you? Well, in your room you were a dancer and in your dreams a mermaid, but in reality you were too embarrassed and too afraid, too insecure to admit what “you were”.

“I don’t know.” You hesitated to answer. You loved Yoongi, in more ways that you could ever allow yourself to love him, but you could not tell him all your dreams just like that.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.” He sang, mocking you, but from your position you could only resist pushing him into your car. “You don’t have to say it, I already know.”

You quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Do you?” A smirk appeared on your face, but he couldn’t see it, he was still working on God knows what.

“Kind of…” He laughed “I don’t know exactly, but I do know that you are too bright to just be a nurse, with all due respect to the nurses, of course.”

You stared at his back until he turned his head to find your eyes, offering you a soft smile. You mentally cursed him, if he hadn’t turned around you could blush like a teenager without care, but now your cheeks were red and your heart was jumping, the only thing you could hope for was that he couldn’t hear it from where he was standing.

“That isn’t very respectful to nurses.” You simply said, and he shook his head, laughing.

“Maybe, but I still stand by what I said.”

“Well, whatever I might be,” You started saying, trying to keep talking with all your feelings still swirling around inside your chest, “I still don’t want to disappoint any more people by making the wrong decision and coming back to live with my mom in six months.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but laugh, not because he was mocking you, but because he couldn’t believe how you couldn’t be at least a little positive, how you were only twenty one and you felt like there was no turning back.

“Who don't you want to disappoint?” He chuckled, “I really thought you didn’t care about that stuff.”

“I thought so too!” You exclaimed, just as surprised as him. “But I already disappointed my mom, Simon will be disappointed too when he finds out, I’m sure.”

“God, you’re so wrong, I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now.” He tried to joke, but the feeling of emptiness that had been living in your stomach for the past months didn’t go away just like that. “Do you really think that about your mom?”

“I don’t know!” You said, throwing your arms in the air to be just a little more dramatic that you were already being “But when I told her she made that face that she does when she’s annoyed or upset, now she wants to talk to me about the future every time we sit down to eat, she looks at me like that all the time, like she’s mad with me or something.”

For the past few days you tried to understand your mom, but you failed when you tried to understand yourself. After Simon followed Yoongi to law school, your mom expected you to do something similar, and when you decided to be a nurse she was content enough, both of her kids were off to college now, nothing could go wrong.

Your mom always bragged that she knew you like the palm of her hand, the only conclusion she could reach when you appeared at your house with the news was that you were never happy with what you had, you always had to have something else, something you couldn’t have. And even if you were about to be mature enough to admit she was right, you knew she wasn’t completely. Yes, you were a brat, but you felt in your heart this time was different.

“C’mon, Pinky. I don’t think your mom is disappointed, I’m sure she is just confused. You were two years into college, she must think this came out of nowhere, she’ll have time to understand that it didn’t.” He turned around a pointed a tool hanging on the wall, you didn’t knew the name of it, or what the fuck he was doing with your car, but you handed it to him anyway. “And, she’ll have even more time to understand that you’re not Simon and that her children are two completely different people.”

“Do you think?” You murmured.

“Yes, dummy. And you’re crazy if you think your brother would ever be disappointed in you for something like that, he is the first person that supports you no matter what, he’ll understand that dropping out of college is not the end of the world.”

You stayed in silence, not daring to say a single word after what he said. You wanted to say that you were tired of all of that, how predictable Yoongi was, how terribly annoying it was for him to always be right. How was it that he always knew what to say? Was it so hard for him to be wrong at least once so you could argue with him? So you could correct him and tell him that he was saying nonsense? Yes, it was. You just rolled your eyes, even if he wasn’t watching you.

“You’re insufferable.” You said, when what you really wanted to say was just “thank you”, but he understood.

“Maybe I am.” He laughed, “But at least I’m not the one trying to find excuses to be miserable.”

You watched him put the tools aside and closed the hood of your car, but you were too focused on something else to ask if your car was okay or not. He grabbed a piece of cloth lying next to you and wiped his hands, “What about my grandma?” You wondered out loud, like he knew what to do about that as well.

“You’re seriously not thinking about your grandma right now.” He leaned on your car, with his arms crossed over his chest while shaking his head disapprovingly. If it was any other guy doing that, you would have told him to get the fuck away from your car, but Yoongi still had his sleeves rolled up, which made you think it was okay for now.

“But I am.” You answered “I can already picture her face when she finds out, I can already hear the comments about her neighbor’s daughter, about how she’s on her fourth year of medicine and I’m going back to square one again or some shit like that. The worst thing is that Simon is not here, so I’ll have to endure all of that alone.”

Yoongi was run by logic most of the time, so it was hard for him to understand how fast your imagination flew, but he knew that was part of your very theatrical self. It wouldn’t hurt him to become a little more like you, maybe being a rational person made him more intelligent, but sometimes made him more of a fool.

“And since when do you care about what your grandma thinks?” He laughed, “She will always have something to complain about, to impress her you would have to die and born again, but this time blonde and with blue eyes. Do I need to remind you again? That woman doesn’t have a loving bone in her body.”

“God, stop.” You sighed, fully knowing he was right.

“You stop.” He laughed, “Stop trying to make everyone happy but yourself.”

“Well, maybe that’s the hardest thing to do.” You murmured.

“Getting your shit together is the hardest thing to do, but I’m sure you’ll get there.”

Believing Yoongi surely was not the hardest thing to do for you, but when it came to believing in yourself it was a whole different thing.

“Says the man who always has his shit together.” You snorted “Difficult to believe you.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, moving away from your car to sit next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk “That’s not true.” He tried to deny it.

“Yeah, sure.” You bumped his shoulder “Name one time you couldn’t balance your personal life with your academic life.”

Yoongi straightened his back, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to think about it.

“Mmm… Right now?” He murmured.

“Right now?” You repeated, raising your eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yeah, look at me.” He pointed at himself. “I don’t think I have a personal life at this point, all I could think about was finishing early to come home to my mom so I could take care of her, and guess what?”

“What?” You asked, curiously.��

“She told me she already planned a trip with my aunt for both Christmas and new years. She ditched me, and now? I’m alone, I’m starting to think my personal life was just my mom.”

You covered your mouth, not being able to hold yourself back before bursting in laughter. “She ditched you?” You laughed, but he nodded, annoyed that you’re laughing at him. “Oh my God, she got rid of you.”

“She got rid of me.” He affirmed.

“Lucky her, honestly.” You teased him “Isn’t that proof enough that you have to relax with her? You’re in college worrying about her health and she’s here organizing trips with her sister.”

Yoongi shook his head, still in denial, “Maybe, but she can’t do things like this without letting me know first.”

“Why not?” You scoffed “She’s an adult, isn’t she?”

“She’s an adult, but I’m her son.” He huffed “And that’s all I’ve ever known to do, care for her.”

“Well, you can take care of her at the same time you take care of yourself.” You reminded him “I’m sure that’s what your mom wants as well, she would be pissed to know you’re forgetting about your own life being busy worrying about her.”

Yoongi knew you were right, he knew that more than anyone but still couldn’t help but worry about his mom. She had her siblings, who always knew how to take care of her, but he always felt like it was his responsibility as her son to do it, no one could take that thought off his mind. The only reason he brought it up was because you asked, but it was not a thing he wanted to discuss right now, he could put his social life on pause if that meant his mom was going to be okay.

He turned his head at you, offering you an amused grin as he ruffled your hair with his hand, willing to change the topic. “Why are you scolding me? I’m supposed to scold you.”

You pushed his hand off you, “I don’t need you to scold me, I have enough with my mom.” You sighed “Besides, if it were a competition, I would win. At least you have a future, I’m more fucked than you.”

“No, yeah. I’m sure of that.” He teased you back “You just have to make up your mind, I know it’s a mess inside there but I believe you can do it.”

“I hope so.” You said, and this time your words were sincere. “But for now the plan is to survive the holidays, then I can get my shit together.”

Yoongi laughed, sitting next to you on top of the uncomfortable desk. “Sounds like a good plan to me.” He agreed. “And you know, about christmas…”

“What about christmas?” You asked, at the risk of looking so visibly lost in his eyes.

“I was thinking… Since I don’t have any plans for Christmas…” He hesitated to say, lengthening the syllables of his words. “I was thinking… If you want to, I can go with you in place of your brother. You know, so you won’t be alone.”

The offering took you off guard, among all the things Yoongi could tell you, (the realistic ones, not the ones that only happened in your dreams) that was the most surprising. You had spent Christmas with Yoongi in the past, but your heart jumped at the thought of him spending Christmas with you, and not with your brother. Was he serious?

“Really?” You asked, afraid that he could see the excitement in your eyes “Would you do that?”

“Of course.” He smiled, “We can talk shit about your grandma together.”

You could hardly hide the smile on your face, you had to suppress the immense urge you have to hug him. “In that case, I would love if you come.” You dared to admit “I mean, you owe me that for fucking up my car again.” You pointed at your car, already knowing that he couldn’t fix it.

He closed his eyes shut, throwing his head back “God, I’m sorry.”

Present

You had been wishing to sleep in your childhood bedroom for the past two months. You had been wishing to lay under the baby blue covers, have your mom kiss you goodnight and sleep a nap long enough to heal your heart.

You had been feeling like you were thirteen again for the whole year, thirteen and completely clueless, thirteen and scared, running home because you just saw your brother’s best friend kissing a girl at the bus stop, hiding under the covers and trying to forget that you were thirteen and there was no way he could ever see you the same way as that girl.

The last time that you visited your mom’s house was a year ago. You texted her every week, sent her and your brother gifts and tickets so they could see you in the current play you were in, but visiting her house was harder than it looked for you. You managed to come once every few years for thanksgiving, telling your mom that you were busy and that theater life was like that, but the truth was that after so many years you still couldn’t find the courage to spend more than two days in the town you grew up in, not after everything, not after Yoongi.

After so long, you were back where you started, running home after hitting a wall. The life you built with your own hands, the life that was supposed to be your dream turned out to be a lie, the boyfriend of three years you thought you loved was now gone, and the only person who ended up breaking your heart was yourself.

When was the moment you stopped calling you brother every three days? Or when you stopped showing up at every birthday? When was the moment you got so far from the person you used to be? You weren’t thirteen anymore, you were twenty five and just now you realized that no matter how many shiny people you have around, you are still alone and far from home.

Now you were headed home, with a bag full of clothes in the trunk of your car, prepared to install yourself in your mom’s house for the rest of the winter, determined to get your shit together, just like you thought you did a few years ago. Oh, how you wished you didn’t have to do this, how you wished you weren’t a complete mess. You wished you could enter your mother’s home and ignore the fact that you didn’t remember when was the last time you told her I love you, but to be fair with yourself, you didn’t remember the last time someone told you I love you either.

Your mom knew you were coming, she was the first one who knew about your break up with Ian, your boyfriend, so she was assuming that you were sad and heart broken, and even if that was true, it wasn’t because of the break up, you were the one who left him.

You didn’t know why, but you assumed that Ian understood what your relationship was, a sad pact that benefited both of your acting careers, a good image for the media, both of the most successful young actors being allegedly in love, and for you, just an arrangement to avoid being alone. How surprised you were when he got down on one knee and proposed, with his mom’s ring on one hand and a bunch of your so-called friends hiding in the distance, preparing to celebrate when you were supposed to say ‘yes’. He had a smile on his face, convinced that wasn’t the worst idea that ever crossed his mind. You thought it was clear that you never wanted to marry him, you believed you found someone who loved you enough not to leave you alone but not enough to marry you. God, you sounded crazy, but that was what you became, a superficial celebrity whose whole life was calculated enough so people thought it was perfect.

You felt like shit when you had to say no to Ian, but you had no other option. Everything was so fake it made you want to throw up, and on top of that, he was the asshole who didn’t even bother to invite your family to, what was supposed to be, your engagement party. If you were to say yes, where was your mom to hug you? Or to tell you that you were being mental for marrying someone you didn’t love? That was the moment when you knew you were about to lose it, that’s when you knew that if you stayed there you would’ve lost your mind, and you were so close to doing it, the only thing that finally woke you up was a marriage proposal.

You turned right, immediately recognizing you were close to home. You had to start doing things right, but where do you begin?

Four years ago

When you arrived home, the realization that almost every person in your life had found someone except you hit you. It started when your best friend, Emma, finally got a girlfriend last summer, then it followed with your brother spending the holidays with his new girlfriend, and now, to your complete surprise, you had to find out that even your mother was seeing someone for the first time in years.

Yes, at first you thought it was going be to weird to see your mother leaving you every afternoon to have dinner with her new boyfriend, -whom she refused to present to you just yet-, but after the first week of cooking for yourself to sit in the kitchen island and eating while watching a random youtube video, you realized it was not weird, but it was making you feel extremely lonely. Love seemed to be everywhere around you, but not for you.

That afternoon you helped her do the groceries, but she had already warned you that, once again, you were going to have to cook for yourself since she was not going to be around tonight.

All your friends from home were still away and they weren’t coming back for another two weeks, so you were almost completely alone in your hometown. And without you wanting it, only one particular name swirled in your mind, wondering if he was as lonely as you were, which he probably was, but you didn’t want any part of it. You were still trying not to look around too much in the grocery line hoping to see a familiar face, forcing yourself not to look up when you knew you were passing his street. You promised that you weren’t going to wait to see him again, as if that way you could prove something to yourself.

You expected Yoongi to disappear only to see him again the day before Christmas, you were sure he wasn’t going to appear at your doorstep like that morning, it wasn’t going to happen, you convinced yourself of it. Because of that, on the way home when you were riding in your mom’s car as you came back from the store, you thought that maybe you were just hallucinating when you saw him waiting in your driveway.

Your mom got down from the car first, you watched her giving him a hug and then observed them talking, you were sure he was going to offer to help with the bags and you were sure your mom was going to smile and accept his help. Your mom loved Yoongi, and Yoongi loved your mom, you could see it. When Yoongi was a kid and his mother had to spend long days at the hospital your mom always opened the doors of your house so he wouldn’t be alone. Like you, Yoongi grew up without a dad, so his mom was lucky to have your mom to look out for him when she wasn’t around.

You mustered courage and got down, surrounding the car to get to the trunk where the bags were and finding him with his arms already busy.

“Hi, Pinky.” He let out and in the cold you could see his breath. His nose was red and his eyes crystallized from the weather.

You barely got to open your mouth to greet him before your mom spoke. “Yoongi was looking for you.” She told you as she headed to the porch.

“Really?” You wanted to know, just in case your mom was lying, for some reason.

“Yeah, really.” He answered, watching you grab the last two bags and closing the trunk of the car. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

Your heels suddenly dug into the ground, making you stop dead to check if you heard that right. Yoongi didn’t notice, he started to walk backwards, heading towards the door as he looked at you and invited you to follow him. You took the first step, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to react. Did you have any plans tonight? For a second your mind went blank, completely forgetting you had a date with Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen in Breaking Dawn at nine pm.

You avoid his gaze, trying to come up with an answer. “Do you have any friends?” You asked. Classic you, insulting him in case he noticed your face was two seconds away from burning red. You heard your mom grunt as she entered through the door, but Yoongi just laughed.

“Do you?” He attacked back, smirking “Going to the store with your mom on a friday night, I thought you were popular in high school.”

“I was not, you must have confused me with my brother, we have the same nose.” You scoffed, walking with him to your house “And I do have friends, they’re just not around.”

“So you don’t have plans.” Yoongi confirmed for himself, letting you enter through the door first.

“No, not really.” You admitted, leading him to the kitchen to leave the bags on the counter. “Why? Did you want to take me out?”

The question was intended to come out as a joke, but it burned on your tongue. You often tortured yourself with those kinds of comments, but his answer was worse than any kind of cruel joke you could’ve made to yourself.

“Yes.” He said, leaving his bags next to yours. “That’s what I was thinking before you made fun of me for not having friends.”

You stayed quiet, pretending to look for something in the bags, pretending you weren’t screaming in your mind. Why on earth was he here? Why was he torturing you this way? You were enough of a mess, the last thing you needed was this, bringing you more torment than you already had.

You sighed, quickly coming up with another answer “Sorry I can’t retract myself.” You said. “But what were you thinking that was so important for you to come to my house instead of texting?”

“I was afraid that if I texted you would’ve said no.” He admitted.

You arched an eyebrow “Why?” You questioned.

“Because… I saw that the theater is doing a Christmas special, and they’re showing Home Alone tonight.”

“Which theater?” You asked, but you were fully aware which one was.

“You know, the one near the park with the weird fountains.” He said, confirming what you were thinking.

You wondered what to say next. There you had Yoongi, inviting you to watch a movie with him, ‒your favorite movie to be more specific‒ but at the place you used to secretly go to theater classes when you were thirteen until you finished highschool. You knew the place had those kinds of events where they showed old movies following a theme, as Christmas approached they never failed to show Home Alone as many times as they could.

Would it be so bad for him to find out that you used to be obsessed, maybe still were, with musicals? You never told him about that, let alone about the classes, that was something you used to keep to yourself and no one else, so going out with him meant to out yourself to him. It was inevitable for people to recognize you there, you knew a lot of your friends from back then were still very attached to the place, unlike you, who decided to leave everything behind once you left for college to be someone you didn’t want to be.

“I don’t know, I allow myself to watch Home Alone only once a year.” You tried to excuse yourself.

“I know that, that’s why I came here instead of texting” He said, “But I’ve come up with a solution, I tell you this, we can go and watch Home Alone tonight, and on Christmas we watch Home Alone 2.” He offered, but you felt offended he even dared to mention Home Alone 2.

“I don’t like Home Alone 2.” You reminded him. “I think it’s un-”

“Unrealistic that they lose Kevin twice, yeah, yeah, I know!” He interrupted you, stealing the words from your mouth. “But I like Home Alone 2, I think it’s still a good Christmas movie.” You stared at him with narrowed eyes, pretending to think about it, as if your heart was strong enough to even try to say no to him, even if that meant you had to go back to the place where you used to be a completely different person from who you were in school, and most importantly, even if that meant you would have to watch Home Alone 2. It was painful to admit that you already knew your answer when you saw him in your driveway. “Don’t be boring, Pinky. I’ve already got tickets.”

Just for a moment, while the dim lights of your kitchen lighted up his eyes as they begged you to go with him, you wished you had plans that evening already. You took a second to imagine a scenario where you told him that you weren’t free that night, that someone was going to pick you up later. You tried to imagine his face when you told him that you were in fact going out on a date with some other dude and pictured him heartbroken because you rejected him. But of course that wasn’t the case, your friends from college used to joke around and say that men ran away from you and only the brave ones were capable of asking you out, there was no way you were going out with someone who knew you in high school. And even if that were true, you lived in a reality where Yoongi wouldn’t flinch if you told him you were going out with someone else, a reality where you could never reject him. There was a part of you who enjoyed the pain of coming back to him, of being around him and living with the knowledge that at some point you'll have to get over him.

“Fine.” You finally gave in “I guess I could watch Home Alone 2 on Christmas”

He smiled victoriously, raising his fists in the air like he won some trophy.

You didn’t know what was worse, whether to have him around or not see him at all, you knew that the safest option was not seeing him, but your poor heart didn’t seem to understand that it was for the best.

Present

When you parked your car, you realized you didn’t have the keys to your house anymore. You were sure they were somewhere in your apartment back in the city, but even if you had remembered to look for them, you wouldn’t have found them, you had no idea where they were. It has been a long time since you thought about putting foot in your home, your real home, not the one back in the city, with countless empty rooms you had never used. They keys to your home, where were they? You bitterly laughed as you walked towards the porch, with your bags in your hands and your heart on your sleeve, that was how disconnected to the place where you grew up in you were.

The little pumpkins your mom put on the porch reminded you that the last time you were home was also october. The play you were in last fall was just about to end and you visited home for a weekend just to ask your mom to go and see you for your final performance. You remembered how angry you felt when she told you she and Phil, her boyfriend, had already planned a trip to Scotland for that same weekend. It took you a whole year ‒or even more‒ to realize that while you were busy living your life, your family was doing the same thing, you disappeared for months and they had no other choice but to keep going without you.

You stood in front of the big wood door for a few seconds, feeling like some prodigal daughter, until you decided to finally ring the bell.

As soon as your mom opened the door and you caught the surprised look on her face, you knew you weren’t supposed to be there, at least not yet.

“Darling! What…?” She breathed out as if she had seen a ghost, but to be fair you weren't far from looking like one, you didn’t remember the last time you had a proper sleep. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged, not knowing if she was joking “I called you on the phone last month, don’t you remember?” You asked. The surprise on your mom’s face morphed into confusion, and for some reason it made your chest hurt a little.

“You told me you were coming Friday the 5th.” She said, but she didn’t move from the door, as if you were about to turn around, leave and come back for the date she thought you were coming.

“That’s… today.” You reminded her.

She frowned, raising her left arm to check the apple watch on her wrist, the one you gave her as a present for mother’s day a few months ago, immediately realizing that you were right. “God, where’s my mind?” She exclaimed, cleaning her hands on the apron she was wearing to grab one of your bags from your hand, finally leaning back to let you in. “Sorry darling, I don’t know what I was thinking when you called me.”

“It’s okay.” You said, more to yourself than to her, closing the door behind you “These days my mind is nowhere near, either.”

“No, it’s not okay. I can’t believe it flew over my head like that.” She kept complaining, taking off your coat for you to hang it on the coat rack “Do you have any more bags?”

You nodded “In the car.”

“Okay, let’s go grab them later.” She said, turning around to head towards the kitchen with a quick pace. “Follow me darling, I’m about to finish cooking, you arrived just in time for lunch.”

Well, your mom always seemed to be in a hurry, she was like every other mom after all, but today she looked more rushed than usual, making you wonder if your arrival was that unexpected, did you suddenly ruin her Friday just by appearing at her doorstep? The answer wasn’t clear to you, when she turned around you lost the chance to say that she shouldn’t worry since you were planning to spend the whole weekend in your room.. Now you were just trying not to look disappointed when she didn’t give you a hug as she disappeared into the kitchen.

You followed her, taking off your converse and throwing them somewhere in the hall. Your mom had enough energy for you both, it was like she forgot that you had been driving all morning to get there, maybe she thought you arrived on a jet, you didn’t know. You thought your tired face was sign enough that all you needed was a hot shower and a long nap.

“What am I gonna do?” She murmured to herself, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that you were there earlier. “Your room isn’t ready yet!”

You scowled, sitting on one of the kitchen stools. “What do you mean my room isn’t ready?”

“We’ve been using it as a storage room lately, until Phil adjusts himself.” She told you, but you didn’t understand a word she said. Storage room? Why was your mom’s boyfriend using your bedroom as a storage room?

“Mom, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sure I told you!”

You shook your head “Tell me what?”

She tilted her head with her mouth hanging open. You visibly saw her trying to remember something, filling the room with silence. Then, it hit her, her silence suddenly broke into laughter, she realized that, whatever was she was talking about, she didn’t tell you, you just didn’t know what. “Darling, Phil moved in september, how come we didn’t talk about this?” She let out, wondering out loud. “We are still getting the hang of it, he still has a lot of boxes, we decided to put it in your room for now.” She explained, like it was nothing, but you knew it wasn’t. It took her a long time before she introduced you to Phil, she always made it clear to him that her priority was her kids, so it was a big step for her to let Phil move in.

You shook your head, immediately avoiding her gaze when you felt a sudden rush of guilt washing over your body when you tried to remember when was the last time you spoke with your mom on the phone apart from last month, when you told her you were coming today.

“Oh, mom, I had no idea.” You said as if you were apologizing, you kinda were. “I’m gonna start looking for somewhere else to crash, I still don’t know for how long I’m staying.”

She waved her hands, rushing to interrupt you “My God, sweetie, no! You know you can stay here for as long as you want, this is your house!” She said, but you struggled to believe her “But I really thought you were coming next Friday! When was your last show?”

God, the last thing you wanted to think about now was work.

“Just last week.” You replied, hoping that she wouldn't want to comment too much about it.

“How was it?” She continued to ask, going against your wishes.

Terrible, you wanted to say, you couldn’t wait to get off the stage. You did your job and you left, all your partners begged you to stay for the after party but you were exhausted, you left as soon as you could. That was supposed to be an important moment for you, the wrap up of your first main role, a clear achievement of your short career. After you did the first show of the season you went to bed wishing it could last forever, but last week you were just relieved that it finally ended.

You wouldn’t tell that to your mom, you didn’t want to worry her, so you just told her a little white lie.

“Oh, it was great.” You smiled, hoping that in that way it would be more believable. “I had a great time, but I needed to come back home for a while.”

“Well, you worked hard, now you deserve to rest” She said “And besides that… how have you been, huh?” She asked with a soft voice, making you raise your gaze to find her warm eyes and a warm smile. You failed to remember that you couldn’t lie to your mom, she always saw through you, and to be honest she would be a fool not to notice the tired look on your face. It bothered you just a bit that the main reason why she was asking about it was because of the breakup.

“Why, because of Ian?” You asked.

“No just because of him, just… how have you been about everything?”

“Well, fine, I think so.” You kept lying “Me and him… I don’t know, I don’t think I felt the same way about him anymore, I had to end it, I’m sure he deserves someone who feels the same, right?”

She hummed, not really convinced. “You deserve someone like that, too, don’t you think?”

“Maybe.” You sighed “But that topic gives me headaches.”

Your mother snorted, “Well, don’t expect me to be satisfied with that answer, after you take a nap I’m gonna ask you all about that.”

“How nosy.” You chuckled. “You just want to talk shit about your ex son in law.”

“Of course, don’t act like you don’t want to do that too, I know you too well.” You rolled your eyes, but of course she was right. “Anyway, since I thought you were coming next week I planned a dinner for tonight with everyone, they’ll be so happy to see you, but you know, I understand if you want to skip it with everything that’s happening, I’m sure no one will ask about it, but still. You came here to be alone so I don’t want you to feel overwhelmed around a lot of people.”

“Ask about what? The news isn’t out yet” You asked, confused.

Your mom turned around again, looking as confused as you. “Haven’t you checked your phone today?” She asked cautiously.

“No, it died a few hours ago. I haven't had the chance to charge it in the car.” Your words made her confused expression fade into a concerned one.

“Darling, you might want to check it now.” She pointed to the charger that was connected next to the fridge. The look on her face could only mean that something wasn’t okay.

You slowly got off the stool, heading towards the other side of the room as you took your phone from your pocket to connect it to the charger. You knew it was just a matter of time until people found out that you and Ian broke up, but you thought the news would’ve be handled the same way as always, a statement from both you, the only reason why you didn’t do it yet was because you and Ian weren’t talking since the proposal happened.

When your phone finally turned on, a rush of anxiety ran down your body when a thousand notifications began to appear on the screen, including fifty missed calls from both your manager and publicist, you had a feeling that maybe the situation was worse than you thought. “What the fuck happened?” You murmured to yourself, looking at your mother in search for answers. “Did Sally call you?” You asked her, fully knowing that Sally, your manager, had strict orders not to bother anyone in your family with calls about anything related to work.

The room suddenly fell in silence, your mom hesitated to answer, you knew she didn’t want to be the one to give you bad news.

“No, but a friend of mine sent me an article.” She explained, her voice suddenly sounding small. “I didn’t read it, you know, I didn’t even open it, I don’t like gossip.”

Your mind tried to put two and two together; missed calls from your manager, an article about you, gossip, that didn’t sound fucking right.

“Fuck, I have to call her.” You gritted your teeth, wasting no time marking her number. You felt your head swirling just by imagining the sound of her voice yelling at you for not answering her calls.

Less than five seconds later, like she was waiting by the phone, she picked up. “Fucking finally.” Was the first thing you heard, “Where the fuck were you?”

The irritated tone on her voice took you by surprise, making you jump in you place “Driving, for four fucking hours.” You rushed to say “My phone was dead, what is going on?”

You heard her inhale, trying to keep her calm “Every single person in the world is trying to reach me right now except you. It’s a mess.”

“What?” You try not to yell “I just got home, I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Honey, it got leaked, has no one told you yet?”

Then, a beat of silence. The stress on her voice is enough to make you believe her, you didn’t have to think twice. Of course something like this was going to happen to you, you couldn’t run away from the city and pretend everything behind was going to stay as it was, your life from six hours ago was still there, and it was still a fucking mess.

“What part?” Was the only thing you could say. You felt yourself entering a cloud of uncertainty, your fist clenched on your lap and while you listened to her sighing, preparing you for the answer, you held your breath as if that way you could stop time.

“Everything.” She spat. “Listen, I didn’t want to freak you out with this, I tried to keep this situation on the low but it happened anyway. The story’s out, pictures are out, every fucking thing is out.”

You suddenly tense, feeling your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach

“What? What do you-?” You stuttered.

“I know you didn’t want anyone to find out about the proposal but it's the main headline, sweetie.”

Sally is not someone who’s known for sugarcoating her words, she was straightforward and didn’t mind being the person who delivered bad news, but today you could tell she was especially stressed, you were sure she was trying to handle this issue alone with you being gone for hours.

“Fuck.” You hissed “What about him, have you called his manager?”

“Of course I called his manager, but all of a sudden that prick doesn’t want to collaborate with me on this, apparently Ian doesn’t fucking care, how about that?”

“How come he doesn’t care?” You asked exasperatedly.

“That’s the idea that I got when his manager told me to manage this issue myself.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath as you took a moment to think about it. You knew Ian well enough, but you always held onto a kind version of him, the version of him who made you stay for so long, the version of him you chose to remember so your memories weren't all bad, but that version made you felt guilty for the question that was rotting on your mouth, waiting to be spat.

“Do you think it was him?” You asked her, but her bitter laugh on the other line made you realize it wasn’t a difficult question to answer.

“I mean, would that be so crazy?” She said “You and I are pretty sure who called the people to take those pictures. He's not happy, honey, to him this is just payback for what you did.”

That word echoed in your mind for longer than you would’ve wanted to, was that the way he decided to put this to an end? Payback?

Four weeks ago, you thought that was it. When you were at the backyard of the house of Ian’s grandparents and you saw him on his knees, asking you to marry him, you thought that was the moment when every bad decision you ever made caught up to you, when everything exploded in your face. Now you realized it didn’t end there, everything you’ve done still has consequences.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore your mom’s eyes in the back of your neck. You left the room, coming back to the hall so you could be alone. You couldn’t just hang the phone and pretend none of that happened, as tempting as it sounded, you had to take care of it. “Okay, now what? Can you clean it?”

“I’ve been trying, but it can’t disappear, you know? It’s been up for a few hours.” She replied.

You nodded, as if she could see you “Okay, listen, it doesn’t matter. I can’t deal with this right now, I don’t care where it came from, I don’t care how the pictures look, what people are saying, I don’t want to know any of it. If people saw it, I don’t give a fuck, it’s me who doesn’t want to see it.” You firmly said “If the story’s out, fine, but I don’t want any major media posting the pictures, can you do that?”

You heard her humming “Mmm, are you sure you want to handle it in that way? No statement to the media? No post on instagram? Just radio silence?”

The thought of making a statement about your relationship in public made you want to throw up, “Are you kidding?” You laughed “There’s no way I’m making a statement about this if you can’t even get Ian’s manager on the phone for him to do the same. If I say anything about this and he stays quiet I’m going to look worse of a villain than I already am for rejecting him.”

“Honey, I don’t think you understand this.” She stopped you, “This isn’t just news that you broke up, this is news that he proposed to his girlfriend of three years and she said fucking no, a.k.a a scandal.”

You rolled your eyes, wanting to curse her for treating you like a five year old child. “No, hear me out, I’m not playing his game anymore.”

“You’re not the one who’s playing his game, he’s the one playing in yours.” She emphasized, “Let me be clear with this, and I’m trying to be nice even though I’ve been working all morning to get this to disappear just for you. You were the one who decided that the relationship was going to have this kind of publicity, you can’t back down now. This could harm your image, you need to make a statement whether he does the same or not.”

You stopped for a second, hating how right she was. Every bit of your relationship with Ian was out to the public, that was the whole point of it from the beginning. Your image as an actress wasn’t entirely constructed by your work, you took charge into making every piece of your private life part of it too, you sold it of your life to the public. After so many years of sharing everything with the media and fans, you knew it would be strange to stay in silence now, but in a matter of seconds the words piled up in your mind, making you see how ridiculously soulless a statement like that would look, lying about how much love and respect you held for Ian but at the end it didn’t work out, that you decided to stay as friends since you still loved each other so much, when the truth was that he was the one who leaked the pictures in the first place.

You were once again reminded to face the consequences, and that was what you were about to do.

“Sorry, Sally, but I'm not making a statement.” You let out, nervously tapping your foot against the floor “I started it, you’re right, but now I’ve decided to end this here. This is my private life we’re talking about, let me keep this thing to myself. The only thing that they need to know is that we’re no longer together, and from now on the only information they’ll get of me is about my work, are we clear?”

Your whole body shook in anticipation, expecting her to yell at you and tell you to do whatever she said, because you knew she knew better. You hoped she somehow didn’t see through your mask, you weren’t as hard as you wanted to sound, you weren’t as confident as you wanted to be. For years working with her you trusted her advice against all odds, and you knew she always meant well, she was just doing her job, but at this exact moment in your life you needed to stay silent.

She hesitated to answer, battling with herself and the love she had for you. “Look kid,” She said “I’m going to let you do what you want, but if this doesn’t end well I’m going to look for you in whatever farm you’re staying in right now and I’m going to strangle you, now are we clear?” She asked, repeating your last words.

It took you a second to understand what she just said, you felt so anxious you didn’t understand if she was giving you a green light or not. When you snapped out of it, you realized it was the closest you’ve felt to be relieved.

“We are clear.” You confirmed.

“I sure hope so.” You heard her sighing once again “I’ll make it disappear and you make sure to keep your phone close in case something happens. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s fine.” She brushed it off “At least you’re not dead, I would’ve felt guilty for cursing you so much.”

“God, maybe the news of my death would make the news about the proposal disappear.” You tried to joke, fighting against the horrible feeling you still had on your stomach.

“Okay, kid. I’m hanging up before you get more morbid. Take care, okay?”

You chuckled quietly, “Thank you, Sally” You said before she hung up “Really, I appreciate it.”

The call ended, leaving your ears ringing and your heart hammering against your chest. You stayed in the hall, sitting on the first steps of the stairs and trying to make sense of what just happened.

You were aware that Ian was angry at you, you couldn’t tell if you broke his heart but you knew that you hurt his ego, and somehow that was worse. You had to admit that your ego was as big as his, so you understood he had to do the same thing to you. Sally was right, you led yourself to this, you managed the circus that was your public life and you were the one who chose him to cover up how miserable you felt. You still felt your blood boiling just by thinking how cruel it was what he did, and at the same time you couldn’t allow yourself to be angry at him because you thought you had it coming.

You thought you were so stupid for thinking that once you got here you were going to be okay, as if you could run away from yourself, as this house was a bunker, protecting you from everything you ever did. Suddenly, you felt all your emotions stacking up your throat, you felt your eyes burning before your whole face was soaked with hot tears of regret, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you cried, that’s how fucked up you were.

You covered your face, sobbing against your palms as you tried to calm yourself, remembering your mom was waiting for you in the kitchen and you had to come back to be a functioning person, but before you could, you heard her steps approaching you, gasping when she found you crying.

“Darling, what happened?” She asked, the concern in her voice made your heart hurt.

You quickly wiped your tears with the sleeves of your sweater as you watched her kneel beside you. “Nothing, just…” You tried to lie, but what was the use of that? She would know, and you were still going to continue carrying the pain on your chest for the rest of the day. You shook your head, feeling her thumbs wiping your tears from your face.

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” She whispered, like it was a secret between the two of you. “It’s about the article, right?” You nodded.

“It’s…” You inhaled, trying to catch your breath. “It’s about more than that.”

And then, the truth. As if you were a criminal caught in the scene of the crime, you had to tell the truth.

After you spent the whole afternoon trying to explain to your mom what was going on with your life, nothing could erase the worried look on her face, looking at you like you were thirteen and you had the flu, wanting to take care of you until it went away.

You felt ashamed, but you couldn’t keep lying to her, not completely at least. You had to tell her that you were never really in love but you felt so alone back in the city, you didn’t have anyone else. Most of your friends were fake, you were tired and sometimes overworked, not even your job was making up for the miserable life you were living anymore. You knew Ian was seeing other women and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to confront him about it, terrified that he’ll leave you in your big apartment alone. Your mom listened with a frown on her face, confused, asking why you never told her, asking why you never called, and you felt so embarrassed, so guilty for disappearing for so long.

“I’m sorry” was the only thing you could say, and even though she waved it off and said that you didn’t have to apologize for anything, you knew that wasn’t real. You had a bunch of this to apologize for, you didn’t even know where to begin.

After a shower, she offered her room for you to take a nap, and as you got into her bed, she sat next to you, hugging you for the first time in months.

You breathed out against her chest, feeling like a kid again around her arms. It was like she was trying to extract the sadness out of your body, and maybe it worked for now.

“You’re still invited to join us for dinner tonight, you know?” She murmured “I know you’re sad but it’s just us, maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

You nodded, “I’ll think about it, is that okay?”

“Of course, darling.” She smiled, kissing your forehead before getting up to leave.

Before she opened the door, you stopped her.

“Wait mom, who’s coming?” You asked before she disappeared from your sight.

She turned to you again, smiling. “Your brother, of course.” She said “He’s bringing Yoongi and his mom, I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

You snapped your eyes open, but before your mom could see your reaction she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone and with your heart clenched in your fist.

@kingofbodyrolls @tea4sykes @overtherainbow35 @namin13 @p34rluv @moonchild1 @oukya @yoongisoftface @namgihours @honsoolgloss @idkjustlovingbts @loviyunki @yoongisducky @bangtansmauyeondan @tarahardcore @wobblewobble822 @secfir @ot72025 @baechugff @hopefulchick @heroinanne

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi one shot #yoongi masterlist #bts masterlist #bts smut #bts x oc #bts x you #bts x reader #bts au fanfic #bts au #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x oc #min yoongi fanfic

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janeyseymour · 5 months ago

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Love Thy Neighbor, Family Matters- pt 1

Love Thy Neighbor (FINISHED): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12.

Love Thy Neighbor Oneshots: Ousted. Title Change.

Two Families Become One (FINISHED): Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4.

Summary: It's been almost three years since you and your wife got married. Ellie wants a dog or a new sibling- and she is nothing if not determined.

WC: ~2.8k

Melissa Schemmenti is your wife. Your wife. And Ellie is now officially a Schemmenti too. Legally, she’s Melissa’s daughter. Life could not be better. With those two by your side, you know that you’re going to be set for life. After everything that you’ve been through, you’re finally settling into this new married life with the redhead, your job is as steady as it’s ever been, your wife could not love you and your little girl more (you can practically hear her correcting you that Ellie is both of yours now), and Ellie is blossoming into a beautiful little lady. With your sweet soul and Melissa’s strong outlook on life, the now nine, almost ten year old is beginning to have thoughts and opinions of her own and can stand her ground. While you and your wife sometimes wish that she wasn’t trying to stand her ground against the two of you, you couldn’t be more proud.

But now with Ellie growing older, she isn’t as afraid to tell you and her mother exactly what she wants and needs in order to survive.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh as you cook dinner, Melissa’s arms wrapped around your waist. “For the millionth time: we are not getting a dog. You do not need one to survive."

“I do!” the not so little girl protests. “I need one so bad! It gets boring being the only one who wants to run around!”

“We take you to the park almost everyday,” the redhead sighs. “You have plenty of fun with the other kids there.”

“I have plenty of fun playing with Carter’s dog!” Ellie states. “Come on! I think it would be so fun to have a puppy to play with, and it would teach me responsibility! Please, moms!”

“You are already plenty responsible,” you tell your little girl, turning to gestures at the way that she’s already set the table without either of you having to ask. “And we do not have room to house a dog! We barely have room for the three of us.”

“Then I want a baby sister,” the nine year old rebuts.

Both you and Melissa pause at that statement. “What?”

“I told you when you guys were getting married that I either wanted a puppy or a baby sibling,” Ellie says. “It’s been years.”

“Two and a half,” you say slowly.

“Years,” your daughter stresses. “If we can’t get a puppy, then I want a sister.”

Your wife looks to you. Clearly, you’re going to have to talk about all of this later.

“If we don’t have the room for a puppy, what makes you think we’re going to have room for a new baby?” Green eyes meet young ones that match yours.

“You two have also been saying that we’re outgrowing the apartment and want to buy a house. If we did that, we could get a dog, and you could have another baby!” Ellie looks extremely proud of herself for that solution to the issues she was presented with.

“El,” you sigh as you turn off the burner. “Have you been listening in on mine and Mom’s talks lately?”

Your daughter turns sheepish at that. “Maybe.”

“You’re such a troublemaker,” you run a hand over your face. If she heard that conversation, only the lord himself knows what else she’s heard. You just pray she hasn’t heard you and Melissa engaging in more adult activities.

“Maybe,” Ellie shrugs. “But you love me, Momma.” She runs across the room and engulfs you in a hug, as if that will butter you up. And it absolutely does.

“You’re lucky,” you chuckle softly as you kiss the top of her head.

She’s growing, and she’s only going to continue to grow- you don’t have to lean down as much to hug or kiss her anymore. One of these days, she’s going to be towering over both you and Melissa. But for now, she’s still you’re little girl. And in all honesty, even if and when she is taller than both of you, she’ll still be your little girl.

“Momma and I would love you even more if you stopped leaving your socks all around the house,” Melissa teases. “If we ever got a dog, you wouldn’t be able to do that anymore.”

“I’ll start picking them up when we get a dog then!” Ellie responds cheekily.

It’s later that night, once you and your wife are positive that Ellie is asleep, that you turn to her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Melissa sighs.

“Look at you like what?” you chuckle as you pull her into your side.

Emerald eyes meet your own. “I’ve seen this look before, and it always means you’re going to give into what your daughter wants.”

“Our daughter,” you tell her pointedly. “And I- I don’t know. She’s kind of right. We have a decent amount of savings- enough to get a nice house with a yard for her to run around in… and whatever else we might want.”

“You’re really thinking about getting a dog?” the woman groans. “Babe. I don’t want to constantly have to carry a lint roller with me to get the fur off of me.”

You just shrug. She doesn’t seem to understand that you’re actually leaning more towards maybe bringing another life into this world.

“If you want to move,” your wife takes a breath. “We can look into it.”

“Really?” you ask hopefully.

“I mean, we are outgrowing the apartment,” the redhead sighs as she begins to lazily draw patterns on your thigh with her fingertip. “And I think it might be nice to be able to barbecue without Pat always trying to steal a burger off of me.”

You laugh at that. “Tomorrow. Right now, I just want to watch trash television with my wife.”

“Real Housewives is not trash!”

It’s about a month later that the Schemmenti family is officially moving out of the apartment complex that you’ve built your little life in. You’re moving into a stunning townhouse in Walnut Hill with four bedrooms, a deck, and a beautiful sunroom. The only thing that’s missing is a backyard, but even then, it’s a residential street, and there’s a park nearby. It still isn’t far from Abbott- you could easily walk to the school if necessary. It’s not far from Center City, and there are Septa stations all around you if you didn’t want to take the car.

It takes another few months for the three of you to settle into your new living space. There are touches and pieces that make it all your own, and you genuinely couldn’t be more thrilled.

Ellie loves it here. Despite not having a private backyard like the three of you had hoped for, your daughter is free to run around with her neighborhood friends, and the amount of children roaming your house at any given moment is a different change of pace.

But there’s still something missing. Elizabeth Schemmenti is determined that she is going to convince you and her mom to either get a dog or have another baby- preferably a sister.

The little girl takes it as far as using your work computer to create two separate PowerPoints in attempts to convince you. She sits you and Melissa down one night to present them.

“Moms, before you tell me no, just… hear me out?” She’s picked that phrase up from the redhead, who raises a brow.

“Elizabeth, we are not-”

“I said hear me out!” Your daughter whines.

You just take a deep breath and set your hand over your wife’s, a silent plea to at least listen to the girl. You both agreed that giving your girl a voice was important in her upbringing. At your silence, Ellie smiles. She taps a few keys and clicks the mouse a few times before turning the laptop towards the two of you. And in big bold letters are the words, ‘Why We Should Get A Dog’.

For a now ten year old, a rising fifth grader, her arguments are solid. You’ll have to sarcastically thank her former fourth grade teacher for helping to raise a child who is a solid argumentative writer. She has an opening, lists her reasonings, actually rebuts a few of the points both you and your wife would have made if she had given you the chance, and then closes. If she were to join the debate team in high school, you wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest.

“I’m very impressed, little girl,” you praise her gently. “You clearly put your heart into this presentation.”

“So does that mean we can get a dog?” Ellie asks hopefully, and she’s bouncing on her toes. For a split second, you remember a five year old Ellie doing the same thing as she tried to convince you to let her have ice cream on a night where she wasn’t meant to.

You glance to Melissa and shrug your shoulders with both brows raised, your bottom lip being worried between your teeth.

“Ellie.”

“Mommy,” your daughter says right back, and- oh, she’s good. She doesn’t call Melissa by that name anymore, feeling as though she’s outgrown it, but she’s bringing it back right now. And it almost works on the redhead.

“I- I don’t know. Momma and I would have to talk about it. And even then, I’m not so sure getting a dog would be a great choice.”

Your daughter nods along thoughtfully for a few seconds before reaching back for the computer. She again taps away at it for a few seconds before facing the screen towards the two of you again. This time, the screen reads, ‘Why Momma Should Have Another Baby’.

Her presentation is very similar to the first one, but you can tell that she wants this one more- and you didn’t think that was possible. Her arguments are even stronger than her pleas for a puppy, there’s passion in her voice, and you know in your own heart that she’s appealing to your own desires- ones that you had made offhandedly as you continue to watch your little girl grow into a not-so-little girl.

Melissa is stone faced through the entire thing, but you can feel the way that her hand unconsciously shifts to lay on your stomach.

This presentation only makes you think about how much you would love to have another child running around- one that would have Melissa from the start, have Ellie as an older sister. To have a child that has unwavering support from both parents from the start, without any rocky story like Ellie does with her absent father, would be… it would be wonderful.

This time, when your daughter is finished presenting, Melissa shifts to look at you the way that you looked at her over the dog situation.

“Momma,” Ellie looks to you. Her puppy dog eyes are strong as she launches herself at you to cuddle. “I really would love to have a little sister. I mean… you and Mommy aren’t going to be around forever, and I want to have someone to be with me throughout my life.”

She then turns to your wife. “And Mommy, I know you and Aunt Kristen have your moments, but you love her more than anything. I want someone like that in my life.”

“That isn’t true,” Melissa chuckles, although she does nod along. “I love you and Momma the most in this world.”

“But after us,” Ellie exasperates. “Please. Just… think about it?”

“About which one?” you ask your daughter curiously. “Because if we are going to do one, we can’t do the other. So… which one would you rather us think about?”

“Baby,” is the ten year old’s immediate response. “I want a baby sister.”

“You know that if Mommy and I have a baby, there’s a chance it could be a boy,” you laugh as you kiss Ellie’s head.

Your daughter shrugs against you. “I guess having a little brother wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

So that night, curled up in bed, you and your wife begin to discuss the idea of adding another child to the family. Ellie’s really sold it to you, and now you just have to get Melissa on board with the idea.

She, of course, has her doubts and trepidations about it. You do everything you can to squash those feelings.

“Baby,” you whisper as you hold her close. “I know that it makes you nervous, but… you’ve raised generations of kids at this point. You’ve done wonderfully with El for the past five years, and you’re only continuing to be a wonderful mother to her.”

“I’m… I don’t know,” Melissa sighs softly. “I mean, I can be a mother to Ellie girl, but what if I fuck up the kid we have together?”

“I fucked up with Ellie constantly,” you admit through a small chuckle. “We’re going to continue fucking up when it comes to El. But we’re going to do it together and get through it together.”

“Yeah,” your wife concedes.

“When we were getting serious, we did talk about having a baby together,” you tell her through a yawn. “And if you really, really don’t want to, we don’t have to. But I think… I think we could do it.”

Melissa just hums and kisses your head. “I think… it isn’t off the table. I would have to look at our finances and all of that, but… give me a bit to think on it?”

You nod into her as you turn to fully hold her now. It’s becoming clearer and clearer to your wife that you’re on the brink of sleep.

“Get some sleep, mi amore,” she tells you softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

That night, you dream again of your future. You so clearly see yourself in a hospital bed holding a newborn. Melissa is at your side with tears running down her face, telling you how proud of you she is and that your little girl is beautiful. Ellie is curled up on your bed, looking at the baby with big, loving eyes as she thanks you up and down for giving her a new baby sister. She’s begging you to hold the new baby.

It feels so real that when you wake up because your only daughter is climbing into bed with you that your heart aches. How much you wish that dream was real life. You roll out of Melissa’s arms and pull Ellie into your own, kissing her head a few times.

“Need Momma cuddles?” you whisper.

“Momma cuddles,” your daughter repeats sleepily as she curls up into your figure.

The conversation of expanding your family isn’t brought up for a few days, and then a few weeks, and then a month.

But one day in August, Melissa asks if you’ll go out to dinner with her.

“Yeah,” you smile. “We haven’t had a date night in a while.”

“I know,” your wife chuckles softly. “We’ve been so busy giving Ellie a great summer.”

“I can ask my parents to watch her tonight.”

“Barb and Gerald are already coming over at five to keep an eye on their beloved niece.” You feel a gentle kiss being pressed to the side of your head.

“You’ve had this planned for a while?”

The woman you married more or less shrugs.

“Auntie Barb! Uncle Ger!” Ellie beams when they come into your home.

“Baby girl!” your coworker sweeps your daughter into her arms. Gerald ruffles the girl’s hair with a smile.

“You be good for Barb, yeah?” you chide your daughter gently.

“I always am, Momma!” Ellie chirps.

“She always is,” Gerald chuckles.

“We’ll be home by nine,” Melissa tells the two of them before grabbing your purse from the couch and guiding you at the door.

Once the two of you place your order and receive your wine, Melissa pulls out a few pieces of paper from her purse, handing them over to you. For a moment, a sense of dread fills your soul. The last time you were handed papers when you weren’t expecting was when Jared served you divorce papers.

“Look at them, hun,” your wife encourages you with a soft smile. “I think you’ll like what you see.”

So you begin to thumb through them. The redhead presents you with your combined finances, a few papers with suggested doctors to go through for artificial insemination, a list of Lamaze classes the two of you should attend if you do indeed have another baby, and the last paper is a list of names for both boys and girls that she favors.

You look to her with tears in your eyes. “Really?” you ask hopefully.

“Really,” Melissa smiles at you, tears now blooming in her own eyes. “The whole being a mother thing terrifies me, but… if I have you by my side, I figure, what can go wrong?”

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

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aziraphales-library · 4 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could recommend some fics where Crowley and/or Aziraphale are detectives. I would prefer if they were rated M or E. Thank you :)

Hey. Here are some M/E detective fics...

All's Fair In Love And Serial Killing by WyvernQuill (M)

Detective Inspector Crowley is 99.999 percent sure that Aziraphale Fell is a serial killer. The trouble is only that the remaining 0.001 percent are deeply in love with the man… --- In which there is A Murder - rather a lot of them, actually - A Marriage Proposal - just the one - and True Love - whose course runs less not-smooth than it takes a sharp left turn, loops a couple times, and doubles back on itself, before crashing straight into a wall. (Don't mind the metaphor. It still ends well. Promise.)

yours in black lace by okapi (E)

Hardboiled, hell-fried private investigator Anthony J. Crowley is just trying to survive a hot, boring August, but a new case and a series of anonymous naughty letters signed only 'yours in black lace' are about to make things interesting. Chapters 1-3 are case fic. Chapter 4 is smut. For the 2020 DW Unconventional Courtship challenge based on a summary of the Mills & Boon novel Yours in Black Lace by Mia Zachary.

Snow Angel by Lurlur (E)

Detective Constable Crowley has been working the "Snow Angel" case for almost a year. It's Christmas Eve and finally, his luck seems to have come in. Arresting Aziraphale Fell, big-time drug dealer, is the easy part. Questioning him is the hard part. It's a police procedural that goes sideways. I'd say it still manages to have a more coherent plot than any episode of Prodigal Son, but that's not saying much.

Tadfield's Finest by angelsnuffbox (E)

The sleepy town of Tadfield is thoroughly shaken by the arrival of DI Crowley. Where barely anything ever happened before, there is now a bustle of low grade criminal activity, and everyone knows where to point the blame. Gabriel thinks he's a bad omen for the town, many others are quick to agree. Meanwhile, Aziraphale from SOCO just thinks he's hot. Ridiculously so.

It's A Hard Life by Krisdaughter_of_Athena (M)

“Crawly” was the best delivery man in the whole city of London, and everyone knew it. Whether it be books and flowers, or narcotics and guns, Crawly was the one for the job. Easy enough for Crawly to slip in and out of tight spaces, and easy enough to keep his real name off the police radar. Detective Constable Aziraphale Pritchard is used to being told he is not very good at his job. He is as surprised as everyone else when he is the officer to catch Crawly, the Devil’s infamous delivery driver, in the act. He is the only officer to figure out Crawly’s real name. But no one else knows that, otherwise they’d also know that the DC tends to get drunk with this particular member of the notorious Demons every other Thursday, and would also know of the fragile Arrangement between the two. Aziraphale knew it couldn’t last. However, what are the two to do when Crowley is given an extra special delivery, one which places the two unlikely allies alongside each other for the long haul? How will they keep the delicate balance of their arrangement from their respective sides? And how will they keep one boy from bringing destruction to the entirety of London?

The Currents by indigo (M)

Post-End-of-the-World-that-Wasn't, a bored demon sets up a Detective Agency and obviously drags his angel counterpart in to help out. They are tasked with preventing a murder before it happens and set off to the Highlands of Scotland - where, of course, nothing works out quite the way they imagine...

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #adult omens #detective au #murder mystery #mod d

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invested-in-your-future · 1 month ago

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Wait wait wait what happened to Veronica Mars?

Have you ever seen a creator of something destroy their own work and annihilate the entire fandom in a single moment?

That's what Rob Thomas did.

Imagine you have a show that's kind of cool and builds up a cult following. And then the show delivers a completely unexpected characterization and pairing that resonates so well that the fandom survives the show's cancellation and thrives on pure hope for a DECADE.

Imagine the fandom's efforts leading to a movie sequel happening, reviving a show after YEARS. Now imagine that movie actually ending up quite good.

And then the fandom gets a few books set after the movie that are also pretty good.

Things are looking up and even a new season of the show gets announced!

And then the revival season airs.

And the characters you loved act completely ooc and the pairing that carried the franchise is written as toxic in contrived ways - the things people loved about the franchise are now missing, nobody acts like themselves and the narrative almost maliciously takes shots at the fandom - and then revival season ends in one of the worst twists ever. A twist that is so dumb that it effectively destroys the pairing AND the fandom.

Then show runner doubles down and gloats about how pairings sometimes don't work out and how this is obvious way forward to make the story more "grown up" and how you can't just write characters as happy - it becomes clear that somehow the person in charge viewed the elements of franchise that made it survive for decades as nothing but baggage, or worse yet - Its weakest link.

The fandom, rightfully, didn't take that too well - the revival season has become synonymous with infuriating and malicious destruction of everything good about the franchise and the core fans of the show never ever forgave the man for what he did.

And with that the show died. Truly died. Not "being axed" died, but emotionally - the very soul of the fandom was ripped apart - out of a misguided effort to prove a point Rob Thomas not only destroyed one of the most hopeful fandoms that carried the torch for the show and pairing for years but also bombed his own career.

There are many cases similar to that where people in charge unwittingly sabotage their own work - Voltron's homophobia, RWBY altering its entire setting into generic pseudo-religious fantasy (after the creator died) due to new showrunner's ego, the tragedy of Killing Eve and few others - but very few blow up in a way Veronica Mars did.

Rob Thomas has become more than a name - he has become a verb used to describe a situation where an author sabotages their own work out of some misguided sense of conviction (or money).

Life is Strange is facing similar situation now - except it's worse because:

It's not even the original authors doing this as the work has been essentially hijacked by people who had nothing to do with what the fandom loved about it.

The nature of the pairing being screwed over also does an immense damage to what the pairing represented to people this time.

#veronica mars #life is strange #life is strange double exposure #life is strange spoilers #veronica mars spoilers

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richincolor · 2 months ago

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There is a wealth of fantasy books out in September and October, and here's a roundup of some I thought looked fun. Which ones are on your TBR list?

The Ancient's Game by Loni Crittenden HarperCollins

Alchemy and ancient spirits come to life in this debut fantasy inspired by African diasporic folklore and the 1920s World Fair, wherein sixteen-year-old Kellan DuCuivre, an orphan from a reviled class, must compete for a coveted apprenticeship among the nation’s elite in order to save her adoptive father from a twisted fate. Sixteen-year-old Kellan DuCuivre is the descendant of traitors. She never knew her family members or which one of them betrayed the isle of Nanseau. But like all Du orphaned after the war, Kellan is forbidden by law from practicing makecraft, the trade of carving magic into metal that was perfected by the Guild of Engineers and their maker apprentices. No one can know that Kellan has been using makecraft in secret and that, in the wake of a tragic miscarve, she’s been helping her adoptive father, Edgar, run his celebrated makeshop. But Edgar’s condition is worsening, and his shop is on the brink of ruin. On the eve of the Eighty-Fourth Annual Makers’ Exposition in Nanseau’s sparkling city of Riz, Kellan is thrust into the Guild’s twisted web of political intrigue and ancient secrets when she strikes a dangerous deal with one of its members to save Edgar and his shop. Now Kellan must compete in a rigorous gauntlet against the nation’s elite for a coveted spot as a maker’s apprentice. But danger lurks at every turn. And as Kellan falls into a budding relationship with the illegitimate son from one of Nanseau’s most revered families, she’s put into the limelight when something sinister begins targeting the Gauntlet’s competitors and wreaking havoc on Riz. Amid a crumbling city and a ticking clock, winning the Gauntlet won’t just be a test of survival—it will mean pulling back the veil of secrets behind the Guild and uncovering the shrouded legacies of Nanseau itself.

For She is Wrath by Emily Varga Wednesday Books

A sweeping, Pakistani romantic fantasy retelling of The Count of Monte Cristo, where one girl seeks revenge against those who betrayed her—including the boy she used to love. Three hundred and sixty-four days. Framed for a crime she didn't commit, Dania counts down her days in prison until she can exact revenge on Mazin, the boy responsible for her downfall, the boy she once loved—and still can't forget. When she discovers a fellow prisoner may have the key to exacting that vengeance--a stolen djinn treasure--they execute a daring escape together and search for the hidden treasure. Armed with dark magic and a new identity, Dania enacts a plan to bring down those who betrayed her and her family, even though Mazin stands in her way. But seeking revenge becomes a complicated game of cat and mouse, especially when an undeniable fire still burns between them, and the power to destroy her enemies has a price. As Dania falls deeper into her web of traps and lies, she risks losing her humanity to her fight for vengeance--and her heart to the only boy she's ever loved.

Immortal Dark (Immortal Dark Trilogy #1) by Tigest Girma Little, Brown Books for Young Readers

The Cruel Prince meets Ninth House in this dangerously romantic dark academia fantasy, where a lost heiress must infiltrate an arcane society and live with the vampire she suspects killed her family and kidnapped her sister. It began long before my time, but something has always hunted our family. Orphaned heiress Kidan Adane grew up far from the arcane society she was born into, where human bloodlines gain power through vampire companionship. When her sister, June, disappears, Kidan is convinced a vampire stole her—the very vampire bound to their family, the cruel yet captivating Susenyos Sagad. To find June, Kidan must infiltrate the elite Uxlay University—where students study to ensure peaceful coexistence between humans and vampires and inherit their family legacies. Kidan must survive living with Susenyos—even as he does everything he can to drive her away. It doesn’t matter that Susenyos’s wickedness speaks to Kidan’s own violent nature and tempts her to surrender to a life of darkness. She must find her sister and kill Susenyos at all costs. When a murder mirroring June’s disappearance shakes Uxlay, Kidan sinks further into the ruthless underworld of vampires, risking her very soul. There she discovers a centuries-old threat—and June could be at the center of it. To save her sister, Kidan must bring Uxlay to its knees and either break free from the horrors of her own actions or embrace the dark entanglements of love—and the blood it requires.

Inferno's Heir by Tiffany Wang Bindery Books

Fearing for her life, an outcast princess joins the rebellion against her own kingdom and family. . . but when playing with fire, someone always gets burned. Teia Carthan abandoned her morals long ago, and now there’s nothing she won’t do to stay alive. So far she has survived her parents’ deaths, the ire of the Council, and innumerable attempts on her life, orchestrated by Jura, her half brother and soon-to-be king of Erisia. Teia’s rare control over two elements marks her as both an outsider and a formidable opponent—but once Jura is crowned king, there will be no way to survive him. Not for Teia, not for anyone. When Jura moves to crush the rebellion that seeks to overthrow the monarchy, Teia sees one last opportunity to ensure her own safety. She can infiltrate the rebels, locate their base . . . and betray them to Jura, trading their lives for her own. Yet when Teia meets the rebels, she gets far more than she bargained for. And when she gains not only their trust but their friendship, she begins to have doubts. Perhaps the rebels are right. Perhaps the Golden Palace should be torn down and the monarchy destroyed. But then again—what if there is another possibility? What if Teia were on the throne instead?

Legend of the White Snake by Sher Lee Quill Tree

A snake spirit transforms into a boy and must hide his true identity after falling for a headstrong prince in this lush, romantic retelling of the traditional Chinese folktale. When Prince Xian was a boy, a white snake bit his mother and condemned her to a slow, painful death. The only known cure is an elusive spirit pearl—or an antidote created from the rare white snake itself. Desperate and determined, Xian travels to the city of Changle, where an oracle predicted he would find and capture a white snake. Seven years ago, Zhen, a white snake in the West Lake, consumed a coveted spirit pearl, which gave him special powers—including the ability to change into human form. In Changle, Xian encounters an enigmatic but beautiful stable boy named Zhen. The two are immediately drawn to each other, but Zhen soon realizes that he is the white snake Xian is hunting. As their feelings grow deeper, will the truth about Zhen’s identity tear them apart?

Spells to Forget Us by Aislinn Brophy G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

Fate brought them together. Magic made them strangers. Luna is a powerful witch. Known for her skills and feared for her temper, she’s set to preserve her family’s legacy by becoming the head of Boston’s Witch Council—a job she does not want. Aoife is a non-magical girl. Raised under the lens of her influencer family, she’s grown up in the public eye. Now she yearns for privacy—but knows her parents won’t oblige. Just when they are at their lowest, Aoife and Luna find each other and start dating. As decreed by magic law, Luna casts a spell that will erase Aoife’s memories of their history together if they ever break up. But when Aoife and Luna end things, it’s both of them who forget . . . that is, until they meet again, fall for each other, and recover all the memories of their last attempt at dating. So begins the story of two star-crossed lovers who keep finding their way into each other’s orbits, even as the universe pulls them apart. When they set out to break the cycle, will they be strangers forever or together at last?

Till the Last Beat of My Heart by Louangie Bou-Montes HarperCollins

When you grow up in a funeral home, death is just another part of life. But for sixteen-year-old Jaxon Santiago-Noble, it’s also part of his family’s legacy. Most dead bodies in the town of Jacob’s Barrow wind up at Jaxon’s house; his mom is the local mortician, after all. He doesn’t usually pay them much mind, but when Christian Reyes is brought in after a car accident, Jaxon’s world is turned upside down. There are a lot of things Jaxon wishes he could have said to his once best friend and first crush. When he accidentally resurrects Christian, Jaxon might finally have that chance. But the more he learns about his newfound necromancy, the more he grasps that Christian’s running on borrowed time—and it's almost out. As he navigates dark, mysterious magics and family secrets, Jaxon realizes that stepping into an inherited power may also mean opening up old family wounds if he wants to keep the boy he may be falling for alive for good.

#the ancient's game #for she is wrath #immortal dark #inferno's heir #legend of the white snake #spells to forget us #till the last beat of my heart #book lists #fantasy

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artstatues · 6 months ago

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New year's kiss. - g.h × reader.

wc : 927 pairings : grayson hawthorne x gigi grayson's best friend fem! reader, from the inheritance games. synopsis : its new years eve. you and your best friend, gigi, decided to go to a party, but she brought a special someone to watch over the both of you. warnings : swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of getting drunk, kissing. a/n : atp im gonna give up and always get second hand embarrassment when i have to write x readers ahjhd hjhfsk also this is not rly proofread so !! taglist : @lxvebelle, @urbanflorals, @reyna-obsessed, @reminiscentreader, @never-enough-novels, @kozumesphone, @shuhuaspookie, @off-to-the-r4ces.

“Oh, hi-” You awkwardly greeted as you got in the backseat of the car, not expecting your best friend’s brother to come. “I thought we’d need someone to watch us, I mean, it’s new years eve after all!” Gigi grinned. “Didn’t you say he hated parties?” You raised an eyebrow towards Gigi. It’s true, Gigi told you about the one time she dragged her brother to a party, only for him to frown from beginning to end. You’ve also never seen him in shorts. The Grayson Hawthorne you knew would always be in a suit. The multiple times you’ve seen him, he wouldn’t be without a suit. Tonight, he was wearing a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, and a pair of beige shorts to go with it. You couldn’t help but smile at him. “Stop looking at my brother like that-!” Gigi scolded you, brows furrowed like you had just murdered someone. “I wasn’t-” You argued back, trying to keep your cool. Grayson glanced at you through the rear view mirror. “Also, did you hear?” Gigi abruptly yet frivolously asked you before she went on about something someone did, which you weren’t really paying attention to.

“Really?” You changed your facial expression to make it seem like you were shocked. “Yes! I know, right! Isn’t it crazy?” Gigi exclaimed, actually shocking you this time. “We’re here.” Grayson grumbled as the car stopped. “Hell yeah!” Gigi screamed right when she entered the party. It was only 10.57 pm, and you had no clue how you were going to survive another hour with a probably drunk Gigi Grayson and her moody as hell brother. You eyed Grayson from across the room, arms crossed, holding a drink and definitely holding up that poker face. You couldn’t help but notice his hips, swaying little by little to the beat. Another smile crept up your face before Gigi noticed, again. “That’s it! We’re going to the backyard- I can’t have you staring at my brother all night long.” Gigi dragged your hand, forcing you to tear your gaze. Gigi stumbled on the way out, instantly sharpening your concern for her, “How many drinks have you had?” You asked her, like a mother scolding her child. “Like- 2? Maybe, can’t really keep count-” She giggled. You only swore beneath your breath. Sooner or later, after the both of you left the indoor area for the backyard, Grayson followed, eyes still on the both of you. It felt like he was babysitting the both of you now. Gigi was dancing to the music, so you made your way inside to get yourself a drink, but as fate would have it, you bumped into Grayson. Of course.

“Sorry, hi.” You awkwardly mumbled, before greeting him. He gave you one of those fake smiles, those smiles everyone could see through. “Hello.” He replied. “Just a fair warning, Gigi’s a bit drunk, wait– no, she’s wasted- Can you keep an eye on her really quick?” You stumbled over your words before heading inside, rather quickly. You heard the faintest chuckle over the blasting music. You poured yourself a cup of whatever they had, it didn’t really matter right now. 11.49 pm. It’s been 52 minutes since you arrived. A few minutes since you talked to Grayson. Your feet were starting to hurt at this point. You took a quick breath before heading outside, again. Gigi was still dancing, gone, wasted, drunk. Grayson was on a sofa, drink still in his hands, eyes on Gigi. Something about the alcohol that made you think it’d be a great decision to sit next to him. “Oh- Hello, again,” He smiled, quite genuinely, you thought. “Hi, hey” You slightly slurred. He didn’t say anything for a while, only observing Gigi, like the very protective brother he is. “Do you think she got herself a new year’s kiss?” You joked. “I actually don’t know.” Grayson tilted his head. “Funny to think so, though” He smiled. “Did you get yourself one?” You inquired, wondering what the hell you actually poured yourself, because whatever it was, it was surely trying to screw you over. “Hm. No, I don’t think so.” Grayson replied, tone flat, but his eyes were fixated on yours. Like your eyes were a spectacle at a museum, that’s how he was staring at you. Shit shit shit. “Did you?” He asked without even blinking. Oh fuck. Your face was definitely a shade of red now. “No.” You whispered, looking down to check your watch. 11. 55 pm. Perfect timing. People soon started to come out, fireworks were being prepared. You quickly chugged the rest of your drink before setting the cup down on the small glass table in front of the couch. “Be my new year’s kiss then?” Grayson finally spoke, breaking the silence, well- not exact silence, since people were cheering, getting with their loved ones, and at this point, you couldn’t care less for what and who Gigi was doing. You got up, dragging him with you. Who knew alcohol could do this much to you. A smirk crept up your face, while your arms found their way around his neck, while his snaked around your waist. “5, 4, 3, 2– 1!” People around you counted down, but their voices faded as Grayson leaned down to kiss you. It was delicate, soft, gentle. It felt like you’ve just kissed a feather. You got on your tiptoes to kiss him back, before finally pulling away to a familiar shriek. Gigi. Shit. “Well, Happy New Year’s, love.”

#the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the brothers hawthorne #the grandest game #tig #thl #tfg #tbh #tgg #grayson hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson hawthorne x reader #grayson hawthorne x you #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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demigodsanswer · 19 days ago

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Holiday fic/baby fic

Canon Percabeth in this one. They're about 28 or 29.

If Percy hadn't been there for their entire conception journey, he'd have bet that Annabeth timed her pregnancy to maximize "baby's first holiday" cheer. It had taken almost a year to conceive Sophie though, so her early August birthday, almost exactly in between their own birthdays, was just how it turned out.

But this meant Sophie was holding her head up by the time Annabeth wanted to put her in a pumpkin for Halloween (perfect for pictures), and she wasn't such a squishy newborn for the holiday card (again, perfect). Hell, by Valentines day she might even sleep through the night and let Mommy and Daddy enjoy their romantic holiday.

Annabeth had a real thing for the holidays. Growing up at camp without stable family traditions had turned her into an adult with bins and bins of decorations, and an iron will to throw every kind of party. New mom or not, she was determined to throw their New Years Eve party the same as every year.

Their daughter had spent the last two months in a series of rotating holiday-themed onesies and dresses. Today, she was in a candy cane printed onesie. She'd had a little red skirt on before, but now she was just in baby sweatpants. Her socks were lost somewhere between her stroller and the couch.

Sophie was attached to Annabeth's chest in a baby wrap, but facing out to look at the tree as Annabeth carefully placed ornaments. His daughter's eyes were wide and her chubby little hands outstretched trying to grab onto the glittery red ball Annabeth was holding up in front of her.

"We should get her some plastic ones to play with," Percy said, handing Sophie a wooden nutcracker ornament she probably couldn't break.

Annabeth kissed the top of her head. "She's trying to help," she said, bouncing slightly until Sophie cooed. "Yeah, you like our non-denominational holiday tree, baby?" Sophie made a little noise in response.

"How long before she starts talking?" Percy asked. He knew all the baby books said ten to eighteen months, but a kid who was half Annabeth was sure to start sooner.

"I started talking at about seven months," Annabeth said, "so maybe around then, or a little later. Or maybe she's just like every other baby, and that's okay too." This she said to Sophie, talking into the top of her head, which was covered in thin blonde curls. At a distance, she still looked bald as an egg.

As if to prove she was, in fact, not like every other baby, Sophie turned the kitchen sink on with a flick of her baby wrist. Percy turned it back off. Even at four months, bath time was already a war zone.

Annabeth laughed. "That's a very good trick, girlie," she said.

"We're in for it if she takes after me," Percy said with a smile of his own. But besides the occasional aquatic manipulation, his daughter was all Annabeth -- wide curious eyes, curly hair, and an ability to keep Percy wrapped around her finger. And absolutely perfect.

Sophie was a sign of everything they'd survived and gone through together; she was proof they were alive and grown. And as Annabeth hung an ornament that was a ceramic with an imprint of Sophie's hand, Percy couldn't help but smile to know she was going to grow up with so many signs that she was loved by both her parents all the time.

"No, we'll be lucky," Annabeth said, stepping closer to him to place a few more ornaments near his side.

Percy took the proximity as an opportunity to kiss his wife. Then he planted a kiss on Sophie's cheek with a loud mwah, pulling a giggle out of his baby. So he did it again, and got even more laughter. Sophie dropped the nutcracker to the floor and reached both her hands out, grabbing onto fistfuls of Percy's hair.

"Ow, ow, okay, okay," Percy said, carefully removing her hands.

"I think she's tired of me," Annabeth said, resting a hand under Sophie's bum as she undid the wrap. "Do you want to take her for a minute?"

It would probably be only a few minutes before Sophie reached back for Annabeth. Annabeth was her favorite person, except for maybe Grandma, and Percy had to agree.

But Percy happily took his daughter into his arms, holding her carefully as he let her face out towards the tree. He started pointing at ornaments he and Annabeth had collected together, and a few old hand-made ones from Estelle or his own childhood.

"Do you have a favorite?" He asked her. Sophie responded by reaching out for the large -- "olives, really?" It was a glass ornament that looked like three olives on a skewer for a martini. Percy had bought it for Annabeth a few years ago when he'd found spotted it in a random Christmas shop window. "You don't even know what olives taste like."

"Maybe it comes through in the breast milk?" Annabeth suggested from the other side of the tree. Annabeth did have a horrifying addiction to them. It'd even made it into his wedding vows, that he'd always get pizza with half olive half pepperoni.

"She still wouldn't know what an olive is. Unless she thinks those are boobs," Percy said.

"She's smart, she could figure it out," Annabeth said.

"Did you see Mommy eating those?" Percy asked. Sophie wiggled at the sound of mommy, and started looking around for Annabeth.

"I think my time is up," Percy said, as Sophie's coos started to get louder and more demanding.

"She might be hungry," Annabeth suggested, poking her head around the tree. "Do you want to feed her?"

"I'll give it a shot," Percy said, lifting his shirt up.

Annabeth laughed and pulled his shirt back down. "We've got some bottles," she said.

"Are you sure?" Percy asked, heading to the kitchen. Usually whatever she pumped they needed to save for during the day when Sophie was with Fred or Sally. Percy only got to feed her when he got up with her in the middle of the night, and even that was becoming less frequent as she got bigger. But it was one of his favorite parts so far.

"Oh yeah," Annabeth assured him. "I'm pretty locked into this."

Percy prepped the bottle and sat on the couch, and watched Annabeth rearrange ornaments until they had the perfect flow and balance. Percy cradled Sophie carefully as she took the bottle.

"Was that it? Were you hungry?" Percy asked her.

"That's almost always why she reaches for me," Annabeth said.

"No, I think you're really just her favorite."

"Impossible, she's a total Daddy's girl."

"Oh please, she's obsessed with you."

"I'm the food."

"And I'm just the bottle guy," Percy said, nodding his head down toward the bottle.

"No, you're the fun, silly one," Annabeth said, stepping back to examine the tree with an extremely serious look on her face. Percy was pretty sure she was doing that on purpose, so that he couldn't push back with a simple you're silly and fun too.

Sophie, of course, didn't chime in.

"I love to tell you this gorgeous," Percy said, "she loves you so, so much. Because you're the best mom in the whole world." Percy looked down at Sophie, who was still eating away. "Can you say 'she's the best Mommy in the whole world?'"

Sophie stopped drinking and pulled away from the bottle. For a second, Percy thought she might just start talking.

But she just started to cry. Percy heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. She truly had his skill for disrupting the plumbing.

"Ah, burping time?" he asked her as he sat her up. She responded by spitting up into his lap before he could find a burp cloth.

"Here," Annabeth said, appearing at his side, cloth in hand in a moment. She cleaned Sophie's face first, before just laying it over the slash zone on his pants as he kept patting her back.

"You mean it?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah, was definitely time for a burp," he said.

"No, that I'm good at this?" Her eyes were on their daughter.

Percy leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Of course," he promised.

"You're such a good dad too," she promised, before kissing his cheek. He'd started growing a beard when she got pregnant, and it seemed to be a crowd pleaser, so it had stuck around long past the birth. The crowd, of course, was Annabeth.

Percy smiled. "Well! It's easy to be a good dad to such a perfect little baby," he said. He lifted Sophie up under her arms as he leaned back on the couch. He held her up, almost like Simba, but so that she was looking at him.

Sophie decided then that she wasn't quite done spitting up what she'd ate. A good bit of her bottle ended up on Percy's chin then into his beard and onto his shirt.

Annabeth laughed. "Alright, bath time for both of you, I think," she said, taking Sophie from him, so he could compose himself.

The shower turned on.

Annabeth looked at him wide-eyed, then to the baby in her arms.

"I did that," Percy confirmed.

Annabeth sighed. "Oh thank the gods. I'm not ready for her to really understand words yet."

"She probably already does," Percy said, wiping his beard with his sleeve. "Her big brain is like a sponge."

Annabeth nodded, before resting Sophie over her shoulder. "I love you," she said to both of them. He saw tears well up in her eyes. "Baby's first Yule!" Annabeth said.

"It'll be perfect," Percy promised, before standing. He wanted to kiss her, but his beard was all milky and his spit-up-on pants were starting to stick to him.

#percabeth #percy jackson #annabeth chase #ask game

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zh-lele · 2 years ago

Text

Playing Games

You didn't yet see my worth, so you try to play me. But I was so in love that I just got a little bit too complicated.

▪︎ Summary: A chaotic New Year's party makes you rethink the kind of relationship you've been having with Donghyuck for the past few months. He is a player, but you love the game.

▪︎ Pairing: Lee Donghyuck x female reader

▪︎ Genres: friends with benefits, smut, angst

▪︎ Word count: 7.4k (I'm so sorry.)

▪︎ Warnings: explicit sexual content, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; profanity; substance consumption; toxic behavior. (Please let me know if I missed something.)

Listen to the playlist here. | Click to see Hyuck's moodboard.

Author's note: This is my secret santa gift for @neochan as part of the event hosted by @neowritingsnet . Hey Sam, I was your secret santa! Happy holidays and I hope you can enjoy the fic :) Didn't have the time to get it proof read so I'm really sorry about that.

Lolo.

1. Forget about it, forget about him

"How are you surviving the New Year's party?"

Your question takes Rina by surprise, since you see her get a little scared when she hears your voice from behind. But, seeing that it's only you, it doesn't take long for that beautiful smile that characterizes her to reappear.

"It's going really well, I think." She answers by returning her gaze to the front, where your group of friends is preparing for the main event of the night.

It's exactly two minutes to midnight. You know this not only because of the gigantic TV screen in the living room of the mansion—that has been broadcasting the countdown to the new year in different parts of the world since you arrived at the boys' house— but because you can also feel it in the air.

Aeri is helping Mia bring the glasses into the living room and set them ready for the cocktail party. Donghyuck is arguing with Jaemin because he's not helping Jisung with the Champagne bottles he's too scared to open. Chenle's laughter can be heard from the kitchen followed by some groans, and Mark telling him "it's not funny at all". You only find out what the mess is about when Jeno comes and lights up the room with his eye smile, telling the guys that Mark splashed his own eyes cutting the lime for the margaritas, and now he can't see anything.

You and Renjun share a cigarette on the balcony, now with Rina on your side.

"You know things are about to get weird, right?" Renjun asks the girl.

"Yeah, the other girls warned me you have this tradition going on," she starts. "No one leaves without a kiss from your New Year's parties." And her face flushes red as he finishes the sentence with his eyes locked on Donghyuck, who is finally pouring the champagne into the glasses with a smirk, looking as handsome as ever.

The action doesn't go unnoticed by you or Renjun, so you decide to push the new girl a little more. "You've got someone in mind?"

"Well…" She laughs, and without taking her eyes off him, she drops it: "I might go for Donghyuck."

The clock strikes midnight and the cheers are heard, both inside the mansion and outside in the street. As you approach inside to celebrate and drink the champagne together with your friends, you are surprised and intercepted by your friend Aeri, who plants a quick New Year's kiss on your lips before throwing herself into her boyfriend's arms and doing the same with him. You just laugh it off and empty the drink in your glass to set your eyes on a different pair meters away from you.

Rina had been the newest addition to the group, and obviously, before inviting her to the mansion and one of the chaotic New Year's Eve parties, someone had to warn her how things were. It was only fair that Rina was aware of an agreement made years ago between you and your friends: everyone gets at least one midnight kiss during the new year celebration. She was told just enough to try to survive the night.

The mansion is the boys' rented house and private studio. All of them have been making good amounts of money in the music industry lately, gaining popularity really fast, and it's a privilege that she isn't paying anymore to enter a party in the mansion.

It wasn't her fault that no one told her that something has been going on between you and Donghyuck for months, and that you were hoping that he wouldn't kiss anyone but you that night. When you didn't tell Rina anything as soon as she said she wanted to go for him, you were only waiting to test Donghyuck.

Because if you think about the situation, it was all his fault, honestly.

Everyone in your friend group knows Donghyuck and you have been exclusively seeing each other for months now. Your girl friends know very well he isn't afraid to fill your ears with sweet things and words of affection when you are alone. Yet, he won't show you around and would act like you're no more than friends when there's someone else.

You still don't know what his problem is, but you are growing sick and tired of crying for nights because he won't talk to you. Instead, he would have you thinking you did something wrong to upset him or that he doesn't care about you anymore, to then come and act like he didn't just ignore you for days. But you aren't going to take your anger on Rina.

You are going to do it on Donghyuck later, definitely.

Lee Donghyuck, or one of the most recognized and well paid r&b artists from this new movement of kids coming up in the industry, making some of the best music of the continent independently. But for the ones who know him privately, he’s just a kid wasting a lot of talent and potential, who's only got a big ton of pressure on his shoulders and stacks of money he doesn't know how to spend more than on parties, alcohol, and drugs.

He’s also the boy you've been chasing and trying to get with for years. And now that you have him, you can't lose him just like that.

If he kisses Rina right in front of you and everyone else when he refuses to do that with you, that's going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

The white lights go down until it is only the colored lights hanging from the tall ceiling, and the Christmas lights taped on the wall that illuminate the room very dimly. You can appreciate some of your best friends still exchanging their midnight kisses. You can also spot Jaemin in one corner pouring out one margarita after another, and Donghyuck with Rina huddled against the wall in the other corner of the room. The millisecond he makes eye contact with you and smiles all the way from there, then returning his attention to Rina is actually what sets you on fire. Not in the way you would want to, though.

You don't need to stay there to know Donghyuck's gonna try and play you dirty. And you won't give him the satisfaction of standing there alone, watching him kiss with someone else.

You should have listened to your friends when they told you over and over again that Donghyuck is and always will be a player, not worth all your tears. You should have also heard your other side of consciousness telling you "don't do it, don't go there." But it's too late to regret it when you take the cup from Jaemin's hands and drink all of its contents, then grab the bottle of tequila and Jaemin's hand and drag him with you to the kitchen.

You know Donghyuck like the palm of your hand. You could try and play his games too.

When you set the tequila bottle on the kitchen counter and sit yourself on it to grab Jaemin by the collar and put him between your parted legs, the mischief reaches his eyes and reflects on the smirk of his mouth.

"I feel like we're not here for more margaritas," he says looking into your eyes and placing his hands on your thighs.

You give the bottle one last swallow before confirming his suspicions.

"You're right. Happy New Year."

Kissing Jaemin has always been a pleasure, in every sense of the word. His kisses are as lazy as he is, and feel as full of affection as if you were in love with each other, which makes you think about how there is no doubt why everyone falls in love with him so easily.

His lips taste like salt and lime, and explore yours sweetly until he opens his way to the inside of your mouth. There, the salty taste is replaced by a sweetness that contrasts with the rest of his movements. His hands caress your legs, look to get you closer to his body, squeezing your thighs and butt and making you approach the edge of the counter, but never completely losing that calm that characterizes him. Jaemin is the perfect definition of a tease.

"Thought we wouldn't be doing this anymore." You feel the vibrations of his vocal chords under your lips that leave his neck wet with kisses. When you don't answer him, he cups your face separating you from his skin, and makes you look him in the eyes. "Aren't you and Hyuck together?"

Well, that's a hard question. Because it seems like it depends on the situation and the mood. When Donghyuck feels like treating you like his girlfriend, you really feel like the luckiest girl in the world. He's sweet, caring, and funny. He comes to your home to share dinner with your family and spend the night, and you do the same at his. He even let you spend the entire Christmas day at the mansion—and you know that's something reserved for the couples only. You had morning sex, breakfast together, opened presents, and even cuddled while watching movies until it was dark outside.

You could say you are together only when he's feeling like giving you his attention. The rest of the time, you only try to figure out his feelings: when he will disappear for an entire day, won't talk to you for a week or will get mad if you go partying without him, but then flirt with other girls right in front of you.

Following that line of thought:

"No, we are not together." You finally tell Jaemin.

He only clicks his tongue and shakes his head, before moving closer to your ear to whisper. "That's a shame, because I think this would be much hotter if you were."

It sends a shiver down your spine and settles a strange feeling in your stomach at the same time. It's kind of frustrating, the way no matter how much you want to get Donghyuck out of your head and just have a good time with other boys, you can't get yourself to do it.

Donghyuck doesn't need to know, but it's not the first time you try forgetting you're mad at him with a little help from others. And that's the thing about it: that you only ever get to try, because the guilt takes over you despite how he has neglected and hurt you, and you end up going back to him over and over.

That unsettling feeling washes over you like a bucket of cold water, so you have to separate Jaemin from your lips before apologizing and rushing out of the kitchen to find your friends.

2. I think I wanna kiss you, right here in front of everybody

"You know what's your problem? You're always being too nice." Mia leans on the balcony railing with a joint between his lips, and stretches an open hand to you. The lighter lands on her palm and she's quickly lighting up the rolled paper, passing it to you after a couple of deep puffs.

"Well," you start exhaling the smoke. "That depends on who's saying it."

"You just need to fuck someone else, not letting remorse or sad feelings get in between. Just to know if you really wanna stop seeing Hyuck after it or not."

"But you don't understand," the lump in your throat can be noticed through your shaky voice, and the tears begin to threaten to fall from your eyes so Aeri—who has positioned herself in front of you and is covering you from the rest of the people inside the party—takes your hand and gives it a little comforting squeeze. "I've liked him for so long. I really, really only want to be with him."

"You really want to be with someone who's been making you cry for months now? I remember you having more sad than happy nights," Mia points out once again. You quickly dry your tears with your hands before they keep falling. "Even on fucking New Year's. New Year's party and you're crying over this dickhead." She says in disbelief.

"Must be some reaaally good dick if it got you this down bad."

The three of you manage to laugh at Aeri's comment, thankfully. You maintain the order of the round and pass the joint back to Aeri.

"It is," you confess, blowing out the smoke. "He really is that good."

"Does he at least make you cum?"

"Not all the time—"

"Then you have to leave him, sister." Mia interrupts. There's a smile on her face now that indicates she's just half-joking.

"But he's seriously so good!" You shake your head in frustration followed by an exasperated sigh. It's embarrassing to say it out loud, but your friends had known you for years, and they know that this talk and all the shed tears won't change a thing. "You know I'm not leaving him."

"Yeah, I know this conversation is fucking pointless." Mia's face is illuminated by the light from her cell phone when she takes it out ready to play one of her latest obsessions. Cats Café, a new game that locks her up in your bathroom for hours, playing seated on your toilet and leaving you and Aeri hanging out in the living room of your house, just the two of you during girls' nights. "Just please, try to keep in mind how bad you've had it the last few days the next time he tries to sugarcoat you with his words."

"You wouldn't be having such a bad time if you were going out with me, instead of him."

"Aeri, you literally have a boyfriend." You tell her with a roll of your eyes.

"And you literally took my midnight kiss in front of him, with no complains," she replies to you. "And Mark told me he wouldn't care if I ever wanna try something with a girl!"

"Wait," you observe Mia pause his game and look up at your other friend with furrowed eyebrows. "You mean as in a threesome?"

"Who's having a threesome?" Donghyuck asks throwing his arm around Aeri's shoulders, and taking the drink out of her hands to empty it down his throat.

"The three of us," she answers looking at Donghyuck with a smile, and doing a circular motion with her hand pointing at you, Mia, and herself.

His eyes open up in astonishment when you laugh hearing Aeri's words, but an amused smile takes over his face at the same time. "That's extremely unfair, don't you think?"

"Want me to film it for you? So you don’t miss out." You ask him in return.

"I'd rather film you and me, alone." He says in a teasing tone.

"Okaaaaaay," Mia gets up from her place to shove her phone down her jean pockets and starts walking back inside. "Can't a girl play Cats Café in peace without having to listen to you being some horny motherfuckers all the time?!"

"Go get fucked, Mia." Donghyuck tells your friend and you get to punch him in the arm when he comes to stand to your left, which gets him laughing and complaining.

Mia only points her middle finger at him and yells something like “I'll ask your brother.” Next thing you know, Mark has joined Aeri on the balcony after communicating that Mia and Jeno have, in fact, taken over his room to do God knows what, and you are lighting up the second joint of the night with Donghyuck standing very close to your side.

The four of you smoke in silence until there are only a few puffs left before it goes out. When the stub comes back to you, you light it again sure you'll be the one to finish it off.

Donghyuck watches you exhale the smoke from your lungs and then looks down at the joint between your fingers. He's not going to ask for it, so you raise your hand to the level of his mouth and position the end of it between his lips—which feel as soft as ever, and he leaves a little tempting kiss on your fingertips.

A few meters away from you the party is still going on. Sweaty bodies, blinding colored lights, and wet tongues that move to the rhythm of an ear-piercing song played by Renjun. He is a genius, the best of them all when it comes to producing music, and it shows in the way he makes you feel like your heart is gonna come out of your chest when he plays with the console.

It could be the music, the weed, the alcohol, the boy in front of you—who is looking into your eyes like you're the only one at the party, as if you were his favorite and he hadn't had multiple girls hitting on him all night—or a mix of all that, but you start to believe he got you hypnotized. You know you could have anyone else too, but it's never enough if they aren't Donghyuck.

He takes a hit making it burn until he hurts your fingers, so you have to move them away from his lips. However, the pain isn't enough to bring you back to reality, and a little touch on his lips doesn't calm the incessant desire you have to kiss him—it shows in the dilated pupils of your eyes that look for his gaze, in your agitated breathing, and in his sly smile as if he was reading all your thoughts.

What does it take to break Lee Donghyuck?

The tension can be felt in the air, so your friends are quick to leave the two of you alone in the balcony, maybe hoping you would sort your feelings out.

"Kiss me? Please, kiss me."

After throwing the end of the joint to the floor, he gently caresses your face with his nose and hugs your waist to get you closer, forcing you to cross your arms behind his neck.

You continue begging in his ear. "No more hiding, Hyuck."

His nose reaches your neck where you feel him plant a subtle wet kiss and then leave an intense bite. His teeth scraping your skin while his two hands squeeze your butt, drawing you firmly into his body. One last suck to your neck that you're sure will be leaving a mark, and then he's getting off you, staring down as if nothing just happened.

"Just came here to tell you we'll be leaving to Yangyang's."

Donghyuck lights up a cigarette and goes back inside without another word, probably hoping you'll go after him since that's what you've gotten him used to; you can't deny it.

You often feel like his babysitter and his mother at the same time: making sure that he won't make stupid decisions when he's out and intoxicated, that he won't miss any important schedules, that he can communicate himself better with his friends and family. You've been Donghyuck's unconditional support from the day you met, but since he's shown nothing in return it has started to feel like a burden. Like trying to make an already grown man grow. You know that it isn't your responsibility, though, and that he isn't likely to change for good.

You can't break Lee Donghyuck, but you still like to try.

3. Tell her sweet lies

A quick stop before heading to the after-party at Yangyang's has Donghyuck's car sitting in the McDonald's parking lot, while he and Rina order takeout after you said you were feeling extremely hungry. It's you and Mia waiting inside, sitting on the heated seats with music blasting from the stereo.

You've made sure to make the ride awkward enough for Rina after you saw her with Donghyuck, caressing the nape of his neck and hair and squeezing his thigh as he drove in front of her. You know it's not an idea that Donghyuck likes too much, but the anger caused by his rejection combined with the desinhibition caused by the weed has you making bad decisions.

Donghyuck has left his phone unlocked for you to be able to change the music while he's gone. So you take the opportunity to enter his text messages and look for you and Mia's names through the chats.

Multiple results from the times you have been mentioned appear instantly. Some are funny ones, some are the result of important conversations in your group chat, and others are part of the private chats between Donghyuck and some of the boys.

"Did you know Yangyang talks about you to Donghyuck?" You ask Mia with a smirk.

"Oh my god!" She rips the phone out of your hands before you can get to read what it's about. "You're not reading that out loud."

Her pupils narrow when she brings the light of the screen closer to his eyes, to read the conversations between her "best friend" and Donghyuck. You immediately think that there can't be anything wrong with it because of the smile that Mia can't contain while she scrolls down the screen.

Mia throws the phone back at you and hides her blushed face on her hands before you can make fun at her.

"What is it?" You ask laughing. “Are you ever gonna stop messing around with other boys and confess to him?”

"I think he likes me," she says now looking at you, her cheeks still red from the temperature.

"Yeah, I think so too. I think he fucks you for a reason."

"Shut up! What does it say about you?"

You laugh once more and grab the phone, making sure to touch the screen before it locks up. The first mention of your name is from a chat from tonight, in which Donghyuck asked you if you wanted him to pick you up to go to the mansion. A few more meaningless mentions in your private conversation with him here and there. Some pictures and messages that you exchange that there's no chance to reveal. Lastly, you find several mentions of you in a private chat with Jaemin, which makes you curious so you open it to read the full conversations.

"There's something off here," you tell Mia with a furrow of your brows.

A little bit of concern is shown in her voice after watching your expression. "Huh? What is it?"

"He's been talking to Jaemin… And Jaemin asked if we've fucked." You tell your friend without stopping from scrolling through Donghyuck's phone, a deeper frown taking over your face the more you read his conversations with Jaemin that involve you.

"What did Hyuck say?"

"'I fucked her so good she won't go looking for you or any other guy ever again.'" You read Donghyuck's reply to Jaemin out loud. So that means he knew about you and Jaemin all this time. "'She gets so desperate for me it makes me sick, you can't imagine how much she cums when she's riding me–"

"I think that's enough." Mia scratches the phone from your hands and blocks it to prevent you from reading any more texts. A short silence falls between the two of you before she's speaking again. "I saw them kiss at midnight."

"Who?"

"Donghyuck and Rina."

Disgust quickly takes over your face and you feel like throwing up, the hunger you felt earlier leaving your body in an instant. It's been too much in such a short period of time.

The atmosphere in the car becomes awkward once more, a heavy trap base being the only sound filling the space. You don't really want to turn to look at the backseat where Mia sits because your teary eyes would give you away. You have known her long enough to be sure she won't hesitate destroying Donghyuck's car with a bat this time if she ever sees you crying because of him, again. And once you finally have such a good and stable group of friends, you don't want to ruin it just because you wanted to get involved with one of them and it turned out wrong.

You also knew who you were messing with since the start, but you still decided to ignore everything that Hyuck is and fall into lust and believe in his promises.

"He also said he doesn't really like me."

"Now that's ridiculous." Mia lets out a scoff.

You shrug, "It's what it said. That I’m only a good fuck."

"Hyuck has been seeing you for months, and you are going to believe what a silly text message says?" You feel Mia place her torso between the two front seats to try to meet your gaze while questioning you. "You know Hyuck becomes an asshole when he's with Jaemin," she continues. "He would say whatever bullshit to try to look cool–"

"But we haven't been doing so well lately."

"He likes you," she still tries to reassure you.

"Mia, it's fine. I don't care." You cut her off, crossing your arms and sulking in the passenger's seat. That tense silence keeps falling between both of you until she decides to speak.

"You can be sad about it, you know, he was being an asshole." She tells you in a much calmer tone, placing a hand on your left shoulder.

"I said it's fine." You turn to look at her the moment Donghyuck makes it back to the car with Rina, and takes his seat behind the steering wheel, passing the bags of takeout to Mia and placing yours in the middle of the car. Your eyes never meet Mia or Rina though, falling on Donghyuck's subtle smile, and getting lost in his glazed up eyes until you decide to lie to yourself for the millionth time that night. "I don't like him anyway."

Donghyuck looks a little lost as his eyes start wondering from you to Mia after hearing that last sentence. "Who's this guy we don't like?" You only smile in return, and ask him to take you home because you are too tired and intoxicated. He's quick to comply with your request, answering in a sweet and even more intoxicating tone than every other substance you had that night. "Of course, baby."

The car ride is awfully quiet when Donghyuck drops Mia and Rina at Yangyang's and, after a weird exchange of looks between Hyuck and the boys, the two of you continue your way to your house.

The night has gone from bad to terribly bad, and you're not sure how much longer you can take. After reflecting on every conversation you had with your friends tonight, you finally decide to speak.

"I think we should quit it."

He stops the car at the door of your house and looks at you with a crooked eyebrow. "What?" The disgust is evident in the tone of his voice.

"I just–" you struggle to take the words out. You aren't sure if you should tell him how hurt it made you that he talks like that about you with his friends, without shame or respect for your privacy. You aren't sure if you can reproach him for having been with other girls when you have also done it, when he has made clear you two are nothing more than fuck buddies, and when you agreed on it. "I know we'll never be in a real relationship, but I don't think you're treating me right, okay?"

Donghyuck lets out a scoff and his hands fall off the steering wheel like dead-weight. An expression on his face that tells you he's already done with this conversation. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"That it feels like I'm a game to you? That you only want me around when your dick is in need or whatever?"

"I just spent like a hundred on food for you and your friends. Again, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"And I don't want your fucking food, okay? I don't care how much money you spend on me," you say looking at him with teary eyes at this point. "What if I just want a hug, a kiss, a little affection, huh? Just that you care for me all the time, you know?"

"Baby," Donghyuck looks for your hands and you let him intertwine your fingers over the middle of the car. "But I show you my affection all the time," he says with a sweeter tone now.

"But not in front of others," you shake your head. He squeezes your hands and his thumbs caress the back of your hands, making it even harder to contain all your emotions. "It's like you're scared of others finding out, like you're ashamed. When literally everyone knows we're seeing each other."

"We've kissed in front of others multiple times."

"Yeah, but all those times you've been drunk off your ass and high as a kite. Like I'm just a random girl for you to hook-up at parties."

Donghyuck bites his lower lip to contain a smile, and gets closer to you to speak in your ear. "What if I told you you make me nervous when I'm sober?"

"Get off, you're ridiculous."

"But you know you are the only one I really like."

That's what makes you stop fighting him to search for his eyes. You know it isn't the best option, that he always tricks you into thinking whatever he wants when he looks at you oh so sweetly, even if he makes no sense, but you are hoping to finally find the truth somehow.

"Some things tell me otherwise. Mia told me–"

"Your friends are lying to you, might be trying to fuck up what we have."

“She told me you kissed Rina.”

“I didn’t,” he says. “I swear I didn’t. Nothing happened between me and her.”

His gaze is cold and his lips a straight line devoid of emotion, while he still holds you by the arms preventing you from getting out of the car. And that sentence feels like it's enough to ruin all the good things you've been through together. He keeps lying, talking about your intimacies with his friends, ignoring your feelings, and pretending that he really cares about you.

You open the car door and get out to slam it again, pretty sure it might leave the lock damaged. Outside the temperature is very low despite the fact that it is about to dawn, the sky turning purple and slowly turning off the stars. So you rush to open the door of your house before freezing outside, but especially because you hear Donghyuck get out of the car too and call your name closer and closer, indicating that he has no intention of ending the talk yet.

4. She knows what I am, and she loves and evades what I am

"I'm staying over." He says making his way through your door, shutting it and blocking it once the two of you are inside.

"No you're not." The walk down to your room gets constantly interrupted by him trying to reach for you and stopping you from moving any more. He grabs your arms to get you to look at him, so when he finally makes you turn around and you see his face, you break down. "Fuck you, Donghyuck! I told you you're not staying."

"Yeah, I am. And I'mma fuck you silly."

"No you're fucking not."

"Gonna take all that anger out of you."

"Fuck you, asshole." You almost spit in his face trying to talk to him at his same height.

"Is that what you want?" He asks, grabbing your jaw with one hand and forcing you to keep the eye contact, the other hand placing you flush from his body. "Fuck you so good you don't even understand why you got so mad in the first place?"

Your eyes fall to his gripped teeth and to his lips, wet with spit from all the previous arguing looking more tempting than usual.

You have to admit that, if you really think about it, it didn't make much sense why you got so mad at him. He already made it clear to you that absolutely nothing happened between him and Rina or anyone else all night while you, instead, jumped to conclusions and went looking for unwarranted revenge.

Maybe you and Mia thought he was being an asshole and was making fun of you when, in reality, that isn't much like Hyuck. What if it really was just a stupid conversation between boys? What if it was his way of showing off, of presuming to Jaemin about your relationship because he felt proud of you?

Because if he supposedly gets as sick of you as he said in the text messages, then why would he decide to be with you again?

A gasp comes out from your open mouth when you feel his hand squeezing on your ass and pushing you even closer to him.

"I just want you to be honest with me." You reply in a whisper. The smile that gets over his features is wicked, and his left hand tightens his grip around your face one last time before he shoves you to the bed.

An airy laugh comes out of him. "Silly girl gets angry and if I fuck her she calms down."

He gets over you placing both hands on the sides of your head and looks into your eyes once more. But there's something different this time. His look is so soft and tender it makes you want to tear up a little. It might show, because Donghyuck pouts lightly before opening his mouth to swear to you: "You know I'd never hurt you on purpose."

It's hard to trust him. But it's also hard to believe he would dare lie to you while looking at you in the eyes that way. So you only grab his locks and pull to give him a kiss full of emotion. There's passion, there's anger, there's pain and there's so much obsession it could be mistaken for love.

His palm travels up and down from your sides, caressing and squeezing firmly, to your back under your top until he unties the straps and gets it out of the way. His fingers explore and touch all the newly exposed skin sending shivers down your spine. He kisses you back aggressively, making you pull on his hair like you know he likes and feeling him grow hard above you.

His hands start to undo the buttons of your jeans and he slides his fingers under it and over your skin, massaging your ass, grinding on you even more.

Small whimpers leave from you and mix with the sighs coming out from his mouth. You take a moment to remove your pants completely, tossing them to the side and quickly starting to get Donghyuck out of his.

When his hands move up again, he gets them under the straps of your panties and moves them down, freeing you from the fabric, parting your legs and giving your clit direct contact with his boxers.

It's always too easy when he's alone with you. He knows perfectly when to kiss you and where to touch you to make you want more of him—an expert of your body, always looking for you to have the best time.

Guilt takes over you for the second time tonight, remembering how selfish you were earlier when you went looking out for his friend, and then getting mad at him when Donghyuck has really been nothing but the sweetest when it's just the two of you.

What was the problem with keeping things private? What was your obsession with him showing you off? You never considered he’s a public figure and he might like his privacy, to keep things on the low because of his fans, the paparazzi and the media who’s never got anything nice to say about him and your friends.

When you get away from him all of a sudden, there's a remaining blush on his cheeks as his lustful but confused eyes follow you, until you get on the floor and land on your knees in between his legs. His pupils expand as you tug on his boxer, grab his semi-hard cock and lick the tip of it. As soon as you repeatedly run your tongue around it, you hear him groan deeply. Not much time passes until he is fully hard while you keep moving your hand along his dick, squeezing and passing your thumb over the tip making Donghyuck hiss, and he pushes your head down to make you wrap your mouth around him one more time.

"Fuuuck baby," he groans one more time before grabbing your shoulders and pushing you away.

You look at him with shiny eyes, your lips red and moisturized with his pre-cum. And because of the way his chest moves up and down from the heavy breathing and the look he's giving you, you think Donghyuck might come just at the sight of you.

He doesn't waste another second to attach your mouths in a desperate kiss, leading you to lay on top of the bed once again. His weight on your body maintains your back pressed against the mattress, and he makes room between your legs. You're sure he's more than ready for you, but you know he always wants to make sure you are fully ready for him. His digits tease your entry and you whine in desperation to just have him.

"Hyuck," you can't help but cry his name.

"What?" He asks as his fingers keep going in and out of you. The feeling of his lips on yours help you momentarily stop from moaning and complaining.

When he finally breaks the kiss to breathe, you manage to speak. "Quit teasing and fuck me."

He only grins at you and you can finally feel the head of his cock replacing his fingers in your pussy. But he doesn't push in yet. Instead, his fingers coated in your juices come in contact with your lips and somehow you know what he wants.

"Did you have fun playing the angry girlfriend with me?" He comes closer and whispers in your ear as you open your mouth and suck them for him. "Silly girl. Look at you, you are so beautiful." Donghyuck talks in between wet kisses that move from your cheeks to your neck. "How could you believe what your friends say?"

A moan escapes you—whether because of his actions or his words, it doesn't matter too much, because he slams his dick into you, taking away all the air from your lungs.

The oxygen only reaches your blood again once he slightly pulls off to bottom out immediately after, setting a steady pace. You are restricted from making any sounds, as his fingers are still on your mouth while he keeps pleasuring you, obliging you to suck and bite at them because he just feels too good.

Once again, you think every doubt you ever had about him before was dumb, as there isn't a possibility he would want to make you feel this good if he didn't like you at all.

His girth is perfectly adjustable to you and quick to form a knot on the low of your stomach. It would suddenly disappear when he completely pulls out of you and grabs your hips to turn you around, making you stand on your elbows and knees. With your head down on the mattress and ass up in the air, Donghyuck doesn't waste another second and gets inside you.

His thrusts are slow and deep, way too deep. This position allows him perfectly to play with your clit and to squeeze your breasts at the same time, quickly sending you over the edge in a minute, then stopping completely, then stimulating you to the limit over again.

When he finally gets his hands off your body completely, you start to accelerate the pace on your own, fucking yourself on his dick before Donghyuck interrupts suggesting you move to straddle him.

He's quick to get himself sitting with his back against the bed frame, then dragging you to sit comfortably on top of him. Hyuck rubs the head of his dick back and forth between your folds, reaching your clit repeatedly and spreading your wetness all over him, making you whine in the process.

"Hyuck, please." You are a panting mess on top of him, moving yourself to keep the friction stimulating you and sighing dreamily.

He lets you grind and stimulate your clit through his length for a bit, taking his shirt off in the process and going back to massaging your boobs. You whimper when he manages to sink you down on him without a warning, which makes you fall forward and rest the side of your head on his chest, your ear right above where his heart should be.

His arms embrace your body and press you against his chest that is warm, allowing you to hear the rhythm of his heart, slow and controlled, like you could find all the right answers by just listening to it.

"I would make love to you," he whispers, "but you made me mad with your little scene."

"Hyuck, don't be like that." Your eyes fall shut trying to hold back the tears, when at the same time you desperately want to see his satisfied smile hearing you cry and moan his name as he rolls his hips, stretching your walls again and again without having started to move back and forth again. "Hyuck, fucking move!" You ask desperately, sitting and trying to bounce on him but his hands on your waist keep you in place, glued to his torturing hips.

A strong smack on your right ass cheek makes another filthy sound escape from your lips right before you hear his voice. "Talk to me nicely," he warned.

"Do that again."

Your plea makes him smile and move your ass up a bit to give you the first thrust after a while. His palm violently comes in contact with your cheek one more time and you fall even forward, hiding your face on his neck and whispering all the praises you could think of in his ear.

"That's it," he says as he continues hitting all the right spots inside you.

When his hand slides between your bodies and finds your clit you can't contain yourself anymore and fully sit on top of him to take a little bit of control, riding him while you chase your orgasm.

Even when you start begging for it over and over, he doesn't say a thing at your tireless plea. He knows you are once again at the verge of it by the way your inner walls clench around him. Instead, he keeps stimulating your clit while squeezing and sucking your boobs. Sitting in the middle of his bed with his dick buried inside you, he makes you work for it until you are coming all over him.

You keep moving, supporting yourself with your arms wrapped around his neck and riding out your orgasm until you feel the cold air hit your nipples, wet with the warmth of Hyuck's mouth before he was moaning out his own orgasm.

"Love you," he places a kiss at the top of your head, and caresses you gently along your back down to your thighs. "You're so, so beautiful."

You open your eyes and take a look at your surroundings while still hiding your face on Donghyuck's neck. Things look blurry and you feel a little dizzy. You're breathing heavily, but not only because of the amazing angry-make up sex you two just had. You're coming back to your senses, and your chest hurts and your eyes sting from holding on the tears; it's everything that happened this night taking over you all at once.

A sip from your nose is what gives you away and makes Donghyuck laugh.

"Aw, baby," he says with a squeeze on your asscheek. "Fucked you so good I got you crying?" Donghyuck takes your face in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. His thumbs wipe away the thick tears that fall down your cheeks with care, and he kisses the pout on your lips over and over again, until they form a straight line. "Shh, it's okay baby. I know you didn't mean to get mad at me."

You shake your head and open your mouth, determined to speak, to tell him that things can no longer work like this, but you are interrupted by his lips and his hands making you start to move again on his dick, still buried deep inside you.

"I love you," he repeats in between kisses, and you moan. "I love you. Happy New Year."

And this time you shake your head in agreement, up and down in the same way that Donghyuck starts to move your body on him, hoping he would just shut up and stop lying for once. But you try to convince yourself that if you do it all again, that if you choose to keep seeing him, there will be just lust. No playing games, no believing in promises, no loving him, but lust. Because you can't let him go just like that.

Happy holidays everyone! If you liked this fic, please let me know. Feedback is always appreciated.

#haechan smut #nct smut #lee donghyuck smut #nct haechan smut #nct dream smut #neosecretsanta #zh-lele #playing games

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gurugirl · 2 years ago

Note

how do we feel about a New Years party stepdad!h blurb? <3

A/n: You wanted a blurb? SORRY! LOL! Got carried away babe! This is a bit more than a blurb. Happy New Year to everyone! Hope your parties are just as fun as this one 💦 3.4k words

Warning: stepdad!harry x stepdaughter!reader, inappropriate relationship, smut

stepdad!harry masterlist

New Year's Eve had always been a fun little thing that your mother loved to celebrate, maybe more than any other holiday. She always planned well in advance, inviting dozens of guests, warning the neighbors that it was going to be loud and bribing them with her famous tiramisu, having food catered in, decorations, champagne, noise makers...

You were dressed in your little red, sequin dress with a low back and black heels, hair smoothed and waved, red lips, and lots of butterflies in your tummy. You didn't know how tonight was going to go down. Harry would probably kiss your mom at midnight - that was a given actually. You were used to that, though. What had you feeling the fluttery nerves in your tummy was what Harry was going to do with himself.

The moment he saw you in your little red number he let out an audible scoff that even your mother noticed, "She's gorgeous isn't she, Harry?" Your mom poked her elbow at her husband and winked at you.

She truly just had no idea. But you'd also gotten used to pushing the guilt down so deep it almost didn't even bother you anymore. Almost.

As the guests began to arrive, everyone was handed a drink and ate snacks, and gathered in small groups to chat. The music playing over the speakers was nice and chill. The atmosphere was really relaxed and exciting all at once.

You invited a couple of your girlfriends and they were dressed just as cute as you. Cassidy was somewhat aware of how you felt about Harry. Well, actually she wasn't really aware. She only knew that you found him attractive. She had no idea of your secret. No one did.

"He's so fucking fine. How do you survive listening to him fuck your mom?" She laughed into her red solo cup. She was already half in the bag.

You rolled your eyes and made a gagging noise, acting as if you were grossed out by anything to do with Harry and sex, "Gross! Cas, you're nasty. I don't think of him like that."

She scoffed and shook her head, "I know you think he's hot. You told me. Don't lie."

You shrugged, "Not anymore really. Now he's just my stepdad. I don't think of him that way."

But you could feel his eyes on you all night. You even had to take your pointer finger and make a slicing gesture across your neck to tell him to cut it out. He was going to get himself caught. He wasn't being sly.

It had you a bit worried in fact. So your butterflies were warranted. Harry was being a bit too obvious.

One of Harry's friends, LJ, was also eyeing you. But you didn't like his attention. Not one bit. The guy was ogling you and he kept coming up to you and very openly flirted with you a good handful of times before Harry had had enough and he interrupted one such moment.

"That's enough, mate. That's my stepdaughter..." Harry had placed a palm on the man's shoulder to pull him back a few inches.

You watched on as LJ and Harry went back and forth, "No worries, dude. She's an adult. Right?" He looked at you with brows raised.

You shrugged but looked at Harry with pleading eyes. You wanted LJ to fuck off.

"Nah, let's go, man. Anyone but her..." Harry pulled LJ along and LJ turned back to you as he stumbled in step with Harry and waved at you, but the look on his face was a promise that he'd return.

Your mom was ER doctor, but her true calling was a party planner and host. She threw the best parties. She always had everything perfectly organized and planned out. Anything that went wrong, she took care of by improvising or adapting to doing something a little differently.

So, when one of the drunk guests fell into a table and knocked all of the drinks, cups, and liquor bottles to the ground, your mom had already bought extra liquor and mixers. She immediately got into host most and pointed to you and Harry, "In the basement, bring up the boxes labeled NYE Backup. There are seven of them."

You and Harry quickly went into the house and you kicked your heels off the moment you walked into the kitchen so you could more easily go up and down the stairs. This would likely involve more than one trip.

Harry led the way to the basement and just as you thought he'd do, he pulled you into his arms when you were both hidden away from any eyes that might see.

He groped your ass and then brought a hand up to your chin, holding your jaw, "Why are you wearing this? Trying to make me lose my mind? I've gotta fuckin' fight all my friends to stay away from you," he asked you with his face close to yours. The stance he had over you was possessive and animalistic.

You chuckled and grasped Harry's forearm that held your jaw, "Just for you, Daddy. Thought you'd like it."

Harry pressed his mouth to yours and moved his hands down again. He slid his fingers to your thighs and slowly moved the hem of your dress upward. He began moving you back toward the wall until you felt the cool, flat surface against your back.

Harry broke from the kiss and backed away enough so he could take a look at your panties. He was always obsessed with seeing what panties you had on no matter what you were wearing. You wore something that wouldn't show panty lines. a red and thin lacy thong.

Harry opened his mouth and smoothed his hands over your hips, his thumbs dragging the material down a little. He pushed your dress up further and brushed his fingers over your tummy and ducked down to kiss your belly button which made you laugh because the scruff on his face tickled a bit.

"S'mine..." he spoke against your belly as he settled onto the floor to his knees. His lips made their way down over your panties until he kissed right over the crotch of your panties. His hands pushed your thighs apart and for a moment, you forgot that you had a task to do and your mom's drill sergeant was about to come out if she didn't see you two back upstairs soon.

You leaned your head back to the wall and nodded, "Yours, Daddy."

Harry groaned and pinched the inside of your right thigh as he lifted your left leg and draped your thigh over his shoulder. He quickly pushed the material that was hiding your pussy away to the side and took one, wide and long lick upwards. He looked up at you with that devilish grin you loved before he took another long lick up, his tongue pressing into your labia before slurping your clit gently.

You gasped and put your hands into his hair just as he took his index and middle finger into your folds with his mouth wrapped around your sensitive button.

"Harry? Y/n?" Your mom's voice traveled down into the basement.

Harry quickly stood back up, straightening his clothes out and adjusting his dick as you moved your panties into place and slid your dress back down to cover your bottom.

You both looked at one another and laughed before bringing up the boxes. It did take a few trips. And on each one, Harry tried something but you slapped his hand away, "Mom is going to catch us. You need to stop!" But you couldn't stop the smile and the giggle when you warned him.

The backup liquor and mixers saved the party. Everyone got back to drinking and dancing and being loud. But now you were on edge after getting a little attention from Harry in the basement and your panties got progressively wetter through the night just thinking about his mouth on you. It also didn't help that he kept looking at you or when he'd get close enough he'd whisper into your ear so no one could hear or he'd graze his knuckles down your arm.

Harry didn't get too drunk, but he was feeling quite comfortable with himself. He was dancing and mingling, but he kept looking toward you throughout the night. But the only reason you noticed it was because you kept looking toward him. He was hot. And he wanted you bad, so you were in a state of constant horniness.

When the karaoke machine came out Harry was on it. Harry was a singer in a band. They were okay. It was mostly just for fun, but Harry was good. He took the microphone and put the song in.

When you first heard the music you weren't sure what the song was, but then you realized that it was Elvis. A Little Less Conversation. One of Harry's favorite songs.

Everyone laughed and cheered. It was quite ridiculous. Harry was just having fun, really getting into it. He was singing directly to one of his friends, Joe, touching his shoulders and swaying to the beat. It was a good show.

"He's hard not to stare at," Cassidy said as she leaned into you watching Harry sing the Elvis song. She had a smile on her face as she watched your stepdad sing and move around. Harry had his striped button-up shirt unbuttoned to just past his pecs and his sleeves pushed up to past his elbows, showcasing the tattoos on his forearms. Because of course, he did.

You looked around and realized most of the women were looking at Harry just like Cassidy was. You smiled because you knew Harry was yours at the end of the night. Well, mostly. You'd see how the night turned out once the guests left. Things were a bit more tricky when your mom was home.

Everyone who sang karaoke after Harry had a tough act to follow but it was fun to watch. You wouldn't dare get up and sing in front of anyone. You'd probably have the police called if you tried.

When the hour was closing in at midnight everyone had their champagne glasses and their partner. You and Cassidy stuck next to one another. You'd kiss her at midnight, just a peck.

Harry jumped up on a chair and started the countdown from 10. Your mom stood next to him and everyone watched Harry and counted down.

He shot you a look as the seconds ticked and then he jumped down from his chair and took your mom in his arms and kissed her just as you gave Cassidy a playful peck to her mouth at midnight.

Guests stayed well past midnight. You weren't sure what time they finally started leaving. Cassidy and Michaela planned to stay the night so they were already in your bed by the time you had finished clearing most things from the backyard with your mom and Harry and a few people who stayed to help.

Your mom snuck away before the last guests left and when it was just you and Harry he dragged you into the house and quietly into the basement.

"Your mom's in bed already. I think we need to finish what we started down here, don't you? Start the new year off right?" He had you pressed up against the wall again as he pushed his body against yours, trapping you between himself and the cold wall.

You leaned your head back and nodded with a smile, "I think so." You moved your hands over his chest and slid your fingers into the opening of his shirt, feeling his hard chest with hair scattered over his pecs. Harry's body was delicious.

Moving your hands down you unbuckled his belt and undid his pants as quickly as you could. Harry moved your dress up above your hips to expose your panties again.

"Fuck, I need you. I always need you so bad, Y/n..." Harry moaned as you pulled him out of his pants. He was already hard and ready. Heavy in your hand.

Harry moved your panties to the side and pressed his mouth back onto yours as he slipped his fingers into your crease and circled your clit.

You stroked him with your palm, but it was dry, so you pushed at him a little and spit into your hand, keeping your eyes on his, and then lowered your hand back down to his gorgeous cock. The cock that you knew would soon be taking up all the space inside of your cunt.

You gasped when he pushed two fingers into your tight little hole.

You and Harry stood in the basement, against the wall, watching each other as you got fingered and he got a hand job.

You both began to pant softly as it got more heated. Harry's fingers were long and worked you better than anyone else's.

"My hand is drenched. I think this pussy is ready for my cock now," Harry spoke through his teeth. His tip was leaking just the tiniest bit, his precum letting you know he was aching in your hand.

Harry removed his hand and pushed his pants all the way down and then he grabbed the back of your thighs and bent at the knees as he lifted you upward, your back still to the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist and Harry guided his thick, hard cock into your sopping hole. You both let out a moan that was louder than it should have been.

"Fuck... that's all I needed..." Harry moaned as he felt you lather his cock in arousal, your walls pressing all around him.

"Mmmm... me too, Daddy..." you put your arms over his shoulders for leverage as he began to press upward into you deeper. Harry couldn't pull out too much, but with your back pressed into the wall, he could bend down a little and move himself in and out a few inches, but mostly, he stayed deep inside of you, fucking upward.

Harry had his hands squeezing your ass as he thrusted and you kept your legs locked around his waist so you wouldn't fall.

"Oh my god! Fuck, you’re so deep!" You grunted at his harsh plunges.

Harry put his mouth to yours to keep you quiet because your moans and yelps were too loud. His tongue swirled over your tongue and he licked at your lips and your mouth as he panted his breaths in between.

Harry began to pound into you harder as you fucked yourself down over his cock, moving your hips as much as you could. He kept his mouth over yours but the sound of your back against the wall as he rutted into you was thudding in time with his thrusts.

Harry's cock was throbbing inside of you and he moaned against your mouth as his jaw went slack. He was about to come.

"Come inside of me, Daddy. Fill me up..." you whispered as you pulled at his hair and Harry began to tremble.

"What do you need, baby? Want your clit rubbed? Can you reach?" Harry's words were breathy and tight.

You actually couldn't reach because of the angle and you were worried that if you let go with one of your arms you might lose your balance.

"I don't think I can. But that's okay..."

Harry grunted and moved his hands to your thighs and put your feet onto the floor before pulling out, his heavy cock swaying and shiny.

"Get on your hands and knees. I'll fuck you doggy and you rub that sweet little clit," Harry moved you so you were bending downward.

You got to your hands and knees, knowing you'd have carpet burn afterward, but it'd be worth it.

Harry got in right behind you and softly palmed over your bottom and leaned over your back, "Need to keep quiet, okay?"

You nodded and spread your thighs for him as you started to rub your clit.

Harry impaled you quickly and the feel of his cock parting your soft inner walls and the noise it made when his hips met your ass was so sexy.

Harry's pace was better like this. He could really fuck you in this position. You ran your fingers over your clit as Harry's cock glided in and then backed out to his crown, before pushing back in, reaching that one spot, deep inside, his tip and the swollen frenulum dragging over it and making you see stars each time.

It was like Harry's cock was made for your pussy. Curved perfectly to reach and rub into the magic area that had your toes curling and your pussy creaming over him with how good it felt.

Things only got wetter as Harry went harder. He was tempted to spank your round ass but he resisted because the sound of a palm landing on soft flesh could be a bit loud at times. And besides, his skin and balls slapping against you each time he rocked inward were loud enough. But those noises couldn't be helped. The sound of two people fucking would be enough of a giveaway. Having the sound of him spanking you, which would probably make you yelp was not wise.

Harry began to tremble behind you again, his long cock slicking into you and punching you deep in your tummy. You sped up the speed of your fingers and groaned when Harry's hips rocked into you so hard you were being knocked forward.

"M'gonna come, baby. Come on Daddy's cock. Come on... Need to see your cream all over it. Oooohh..." he let out a low and quiet moan and gasp when you started to quiver and moan.

You bit your lip to keep your noises down because your orgasm was about to take you out. You'd been on edge and pent up all night, which only meant your orgasm was going to wreck you.

Harry shifted deep into you and he grasped your hips. You felt him lean over your body as he fucked inward, inward, deeper, deeper, never moving his cock out as his tip was smashed into your magic spot, smoothing over it and pressing into it, never letting up contact.

You lost it. You did your best not to make a peep but you shook and your ears rang, your heart pounded harshly as your orgasm took over. You creamed over his cock, just like he wanted and you could feel his breath on your neck as he leaned over your body.

Harry gasped and stilled his hips as he released inside of you, deep into your guts. You felt drool hit the top of your shoulder blades as Harry's mouth was hanging open in ecstasy. He couldn't help it. You made his mouth water and his orgasm burst into you and took over all of his senses. He groaned quietly as he unloaded himself into you, coating you with his sperm.

It was a lot. You both came hard. His come began to drip out of you before he'd even pulled out. You were both still a little shaky when he finally did pull out and you heard him laugh as he slipped his fingers through your folds to scoop up his come. He put his arm around your body and you saw his finger in front of your face.

"Suck," he said in a dark voice.

You wrapped your lips around his finger and sucked his still-warm come into your mouth and swallowed it down with a gulp.

"Good girl."

You both got up, wobbly and breathless and smiling. Harry brought you in for another kiss as he pulled your dress down to cover your body.

"Happy New Year, baby. I love you." Harry kissed you deeply and you slung your arms over his shoulders and made out like teenagers. You could probably have gone another round but it was best to get back to your respective rooms before anyone caught you. "Happy New Year, Daddy," you smiled at the man and he pinched your cheek with a grin before you both headed upstairs and went your separate ways for the night.

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