#that wasn’t very holly jolly of him

[sunflowergirl522]

Just saw a Christmas vibes TikTok and it threw me into a breakdown 😙✌️

[buckets-and-trees]

What You Want

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

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[ktownshizzle]

A Christmas Encore | Part 2 of 2

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy, sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), Christmas cliches, Yoongi at the Christmas concert is this right here), mild angst, cursing, minor mention of the pandemic, penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), Yoongi's company/job is vague (it's fine!), did I say cheesy??

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: ~7k

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: January 13, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. Sorry it took a while to get this out! I was being a little scrooge by the end of this (who knew Christmas fics can be super challenging?) I do hope you enjoy part 2 of my little Hallmark-inspired Holiday gift. Enjoy! 🫶🏼🎉

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Yoongi doesn’t make a big deal out of your first date, but it still feels perfect. He takes you to a quiet café just outside town, the kind of place you’d never think to visit but where the coffee is rich and the pastries are warm.

The conversation comes easy—too easy, maybe. You laugh more than you have in weeks,  just like old times. As you talk about the coming concert, an idea pops in your head. It’s not that serious, if anything, you just want to tease him a bit.  “Maybe you and Hobi should do a breakdance routine at the show!”

He slurps the final dredges of his coffee, blinks up once, before blatantly ignoring you.

“Oh, come on, you really don’t miss breakdancing?” you try again.

“I don’t miss it. Do you?” He raises a brow.

“Miss what?”

“Miss him.”

Suddenly, you’re the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. “Oh, Yoongi…”

He averts his gaze, lip curving in the barest of ways before he looks down, poking the base of his glass with his straw. He’s a little embarrassed.

You sigh, endeared to no end as you see the tips of his ears growing red by the second. You decide to take him out of his misery. “No, Yoongi, I do not miss Hoseok that way. We’re really just friends.”

Yoongi groans, slouching back in his chair, and, not gonna lie, it makes you feel some typa way.

You wonder if he sees you now as some homie hopper slash town harlot, which fuck him if does so you ask. “Does it really bother you?”

Probably sensing the weight in your voice, he leans forward quickly and takes both your hands to reassure you. “Fuck, no. I’m just… shit I’m so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it?”

You shrug.

Yoongi huffs a laugh, shaking his head as he leans back, but his gaze lingers on you, his expression softening. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

“Yeah, it took us only all of a decade and a half,” you roll your eyes. “A literal pandemic had to happen.”

He’s quiet for a moment, looking at you again with his piercing stare—apologetic, maybe. “I’m not too late, right?”

You think you might just melt if it wasn’t below zero outside. 

When Yoongi invites you back to his parents’ house that night, you don’t hesitate.

You head straight to his room and it instantly feels smaller than you remember, even if you were just there weeks ago. But it’s still so homey and familiar, full of little remnants of the boy you used to know—the boy you loved before you knew what it meant to really love someone.

And then he kisses you again, over and over, against the poster-covered wooden door, and all the years you spent apart fall away like snowflakes dissolving against your skin.

The way you make your way back to each other is slow and careful, but it doesn’t take long for the tension that’s been building for weeks to snap. His hands are warm against your skin, his lips soft and insistent, and when he pulls you onto the bed, it’s with a gentleness that leaves you breathless.

He sits by the headboard, guiding you towards his lap. He bites his lip as you situate yourself over him, grunting when you make contact against his crotch.

“Is Teenage Yoongi losing his mind right now?” You joke lightly, straddling his hips as you start unbuttoning your blouse, revealing your red lace bra.

He growls, actually growls. “Who cares about that loser,” he pulls you to capture your bottom lip while you shrug your blouse off. “Present Yoongi is so fucking hard right now, do somethin’ bout it…”

“Ohhh shit, Present Yoongi gets to make demands?” You plant both palms against his (apparently) really toned chest. Who knew?

“Present Yoongi hopes you’d do something about it,” he amends, taking one of your hands to kiss the inside of your wrist, once, twice, then leads your hand where your bodies are connecting.

He was not lying. In fact he may even be underselling it because while you cannot wrap your head around his sheer solidness, you certainly want to wrap your mouth around it. Shit.

You clamber off him, taking him by surprise, and he looks like you slapped him across the face.

“Relax, I got you, baby,” you say giggling as you guide his legs to swing over the side of the bed. “Go on, take that off,” you gesture to his pants while you peel yours off with a shimmy. And when he sees that all that’s left is the matching lace panty, his clothes immediately fly off to join the rest of yours.

The sight of his cock leaves your mouth watering, and you sink to your knees without further ado. You grasp his thick, velvety shaft, pumping lightly before guiding the tip towards the warmth of your mouth. You suck on the head once like a lollipop, releasing it with a tiny pop, repeating it as your eyes lock on him.

“Shit, I knew you’d look good on your knees,” he goads, biting his thumbnail with a smirk playing in his lips.

You decide you wanna erase the cocky grin on his face. So you draw him in quickly until he hits the back of your throat, the skin of your lips almost splitting from the sudden stretch. He stutters. You let drool coat his warm cock as your tongue glides up.

His deep, gravelly fuck, baby spurs you on, but also makes your basement gush. His voice is just… Ugh. You’ll deal with your own needs later, because you are on a mission.

You suck him like you’ve got a point to prove. Like he shouldn’t have left you all those years ago. Like he should’ve parked his ass right here and maybe you could’ve given it to him every damn night. Just like this.

When you hear the shortness of his breath, you know he’s really getting to it. So you suck him so damn good he’s left wondering how you got that good.

“A-a-ahh, hold up,” he stammers, stopping your movements with a gentle pull of your hair.

You sit on the balls of your feet, wiping your chin with the back of your palm. It’s your turn to have a cocky grin.

“You…” he shakes his head, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “My turn.”

He yanks you from the floor and throws you into the bed. And the next thing you know your panties are almost ripped from your legs and you’re spread open on top of his navy duvet like a Sunday feast.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, nosing your pussy gingerly, before giving it a whiff. “Fuck you smell so good.”

“Yoongi,” you squirm, propping your upper body with your elbows to watch the debauchery unfold. Or at least you hope so, but it seems like he wants to make you beg for it with the way he's leisurely blowing air across your damp skin.

“Please…” you beg, body tingling with desire.

“I’ve thought about this, you know,” Yoongi says looking up at you, before licking a broad stripe across your cunt. “A lot.” He does it again, tongue digging a little deeper to flick against your clitoris.

“Shit,” you tip your head back, already in a haze of lust. “Me too…”

“Really?” He shifts his position, then runs his knuckles up and down your glistening folds, each joint nudging your clit as it glides.

A cold shiver travels down your spine. “Oh god yes…”

“How are you already this wet?” he chuckles, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your thighs, pulling your leg up one shoulder.

“Yoongi,” you plead. “I didn’t tease…”

“Liar,” he says with a sinister grin, now toying with your hole with his index finger and looping your slick around like he has nothing better to do.

What in fresh hell is he talking about? And also, goddamit you need him inside you literally yesterday and he's still clowning around.

“I didn't tease you…” You whine, needy.

“Oh, but you did,” he mumbles against your skin, biting the soft flesh so close to your mound before laving it with his tongue. “Made me think you had a boyfriend, when all along, I could’ve given you this...”

You gasp as he inserts his finger inside you and already you clench around the lone intrusion. 

“And this,” he adds another.

You don't even realize you're bucking your hips up until he guides you back down with an infuriating smile. “Easy, baby, we got all night.”

“But, your cock. Need it…”

“Maybe. You gon’ be a good girl for me?”

You nod. Yes, you want to be his good girl.

Finally he gives you mercy, and his mouth connects with your clit and sucks and you feel like heaven. Two fingers slide in and out of you in practiced strokes. You're already so wound up, it doesn't take long for you to kiss euphoria.

“Feels so good, Yoon…” You fist his sheets, back arching up, as you feel your demise fast approaching. He notices.

“Let go, baby.” he says, before the furious lashing of his tongue resumes against your nub.

Keeping the pace steady, he curls his fingers just slightly, allowing the pads to massage your walls until he finds the one spot that–

Fuck.

Light bursts behind your lids as you come, fast, hard, loud with a prolonged moan of his name. 

Your back meets the bed’s plush as your orgasm washes over you. But before you come down, you feel a fresh surge of bliss as Yoongi takes a nipple inside his mouth, giving it tiny nibbles. 

Your free arm reaches for his cock. He lifts his hip up slightly, so you can give it a few lazy strokes.

Before long, he shifts completely, leaning over you, his hair brushing against your forehead in feathery strokes. The ache inside you both lingers, unsated, but the world seems to slow around you. There’s a tenderness in the way he moves—his lips tracing a delicate path along your face. He presses soft kisses to your eyelids, your cheek, and the curve of your jaw, each one deliberate, each one unraveling you a little more.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” he says before meeting your mouth for a kiss so sweet, your head is in the clouds again. “Do you still hate me, baby?”

You kiss him back, your reply coming in breathy cadences as your lips melt against each other. “I… don’t think… I ever could.”

And it’s true, wrapped around each other like this, the pains of the past slowly ebb away.

You feel a small smile on his lips, maybe a hint of relief. His tongue pushes in yours as you feel his cock rubbing up against your pussy lips, both of you breathing heavily with the delicious friction. He ruts up a few more times before you feel his blunt tip breaching your entrance, not going all the way in but teasing it in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more and now.

“Get in me, Yoon. Want it…”

His reply is the push of this thick cock inside you, slow and slick, before he bottoms out with a grunt. You keen, your body bowing towards him on instinct, legs wrapping against his back.

He fills you up, wholly and completely, with every smooth stroke, your walls flutter around his girth and your heart is thumping against your ribcage, but you know it’s not just the ecstasy from your impending release. It’s from the way your eyes meet and you feel like you’re drowning again. Just like you did the first time. And you don’t ever want to come up for air.

“I’m so close…” your voice is strangled when you say it, your fingers clinging to his shoulders for dear life.

His mouth finds that sensitive spot under your ear, licking it, encouraging you to take it with whispers you can’t decipher. Your brain is so fucking empty, and all you know is every fibre of your being is submitting to him at this very moment. 

“You feel amazing, fuck,” he grunts, tone as desperate as you are. “You gonna cream for me again, huh?” His thrusts get faster, deeper and it feels like your about to tip over the edge.

“Ah– baby, I’m coming…” Your entire body quivers against him as intense pleasure racks your body.

The rest is a blur as your eyes flutter shut, and Yoongi groans as he spills his seed against your clammy skin, hot liquid pooling on the inside of your thigh.

Later, after he cleans you up and gives you the cuddles your tired body craves for, you’re tangled together in the sheets. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. You’re hit with de ja vu.

“Don’t leave,” you whisper.

Yoongi’s arms tighten around you, his lips brushing lightly against your forehead. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs.

This time, you believe him with all your heart. 

The days that follow feel like they belong to someone else. Someone living a life where everything falls perfectly into place—where the person they once thought they’d lost forever suddenly fits back into their world like they’d never been gone.

The tree lot smells like pine and cold, sharp winter air. You rub your hands together to keep them warm, your breath fogging in front of you as Yoongi stands a few steps away, examining a tree with a furrowed brow.

“This one’s perfect,” you say, pointing to the lush, symmetrical pine beside him. The store owner even added some gold tinsel on it to dress it up for buyers, making it look super sunshine-y and brilliant.

He turns, glancing at the tree. “It’s too… obvious,” he says, his lips twitching. “Look at it. It’s trying too hard.”

You laugh. “How can a tree try too hard?”

“It’s trying too hard to make you take them home,” Yoongi says, moving down the row. He stops in front of a shorter, slightly scraggly tree, with whitish branches and paler pine needles. “This one’s got character.”

“It’s literally lopsided… and so pale…”

“It’s cool,” he counters, brushing snow off one of the branches. Strangely, they even have the same height. “This is the underdog tree. You should root for it.”

You cross your arms, pretending to consider. “Or… we could go with a tree that doesn’t look like it fought a bear and lost.”

Yoongi looks back at you, his dark eyes narrowing in mock offense. “Nah, you’ve got zero vision.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of vision,” you retort, stepping closer. “You’re the one who—”

Before you can finish, he shakes a branch, sending a spray of snow directly onto your face.

“Yoongi!” you shout, jumping back and wiping at your eye, careful not to smudge your perfectly drawn eyeliner.

He smirks, unapologetic. “Underdog tree got bite.”

Later, back at your place, the tree you agreed on stands in your living room. When it’s finally lit, glowing softly in the corner of the room, you look over at Yoongi and find him watching you, his face softened by the light.

“What?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He shrugs, his gaze lingering. “Nothing.”

Your eyes move towards the tinsel and the lights, “Underdog tree does have character.”

“I fuckin’ told you.” He grabs you from behind, excited that you finally saw his vision, and plants several kisses on your cheek.

“This is a terrible idea,” you mutter, gripping the railing like your life depends on it.

“You’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, already gliding onto the ice with an infuriating amount of ease. “Just let go of the railing. You’re overthinking it.”

“Overthinking it?!” you sputter, inching forward like a baby deer learning to walk. “This isn’t natural. People weren’t meant to stand on blades and slide around!”

Yoongi smirks, skating backward so he can face you, his movements smooth and effortless. “Aren’t you the one who’s lived here forever? Shouldn’t you be the pro?”

You shoot him a glare, your knees wobbling. “Skating and living in Seollim Hollow are not the same thing.”

“Sure they aren’t,” he teases, extending a hand toward you. “Come on. I won’t let you fall.”

You eye his outstretched hand with suspicion. “If I fall, I’m taking you with me.”

“Deal.”

Reluctantly, you release your death grip on the railing and grab his hand. The ice feels impossibly slippery beneath your feet, and your balance shifts precariously as you stumble forward.

“Whoa—” Yoongi steadies you, his grip firm. “You really suck at this, still.”

“I told you, ughhhh,” you grumble, trying not to panic as he starts pulling you along.

“You just need to loosen up,” he says, clearly holding back a laugh. “Stop thinking so much.”

“I’m going to die,” you say flatly as your skates skid in opposite directions. 

“Not on my watch.”

Yoongi’s hand tightens around yours as he leads you into the center of the rink. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go, guiding you with patience as you wobble and shriek your way through your first lap. By the time you’ve gone around twice, you’re still far from graceful, but at least you’re no longer clinging to him for dear life. -ish.

“You’re getting the hang of it.”

“No thanks to you,” you retort.

“The fuck?” he says, letting go of you abruptly and you shriek, flailing.

But he captures you effortlessly and spins you around and suddenly you’re hugging in the middle of the rink. You’re still catching your breath when you look up at him, then he leans down and kisses you.

“Is this some kind of fantasy you’re trying to fulfill, Min Yoongi?”

“I’m just trying to make up for lost time.” Then, he leans in again and from the corner of your eye you spot a mom shielding her son from the sight of you and Yoongi, before your eyes flutter shut.

“I forgot you always liked to yap during movies,” Yoongi says, mouth forming a straight line.

“This movie’s so boring,” you reply, gesturing at the screen. “How can you be into this? It’s so… predictable.”

“That’s the point,” he says, leaning back into the couch. “Christmas movies are supposed to be predictable.”

Despite your apprehension, you find yourself sinking deeper into the couch, tolerating the movie and before you know it you’re engrossed with the plot, because, umm, it’s actually so good?!

“Omo! He came back for—” you turn to him and well, he’s fallen asleep, like the bobblehead toy on your car’s dash.

You move his head gently against your shoulder, his breath evening out. For a moment, you consider waking him, but instead, you let yourself relax, leaning slightly into his warmth.

From this view you can see his long lashes, the gentle slope of his nose, the soft curve of his lips and you’re suddenly flooded with emotions that you thought you buried so long ago. Maybe it’s meant to be this time. So you allow yourself to quietly admit it.

“I love you,” you whisper, even though he can’t hear you.

The snow crunches softly beneath your boots as the two of you walk side by side, the cold air nipping at your cheeks. The town is quiet at this hour, the streets lit by the faint glow of holiday lights, and for a while, neither of you says anything.

“I used to hate this,” Yoongi says suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hate what?”

“Winter,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. “The cold. The snow. I felt… stuck. Like nothing ever changed.”

You glance at him, your breath fogging in the air. “And now?”

He shrugs, his gaze fixed on the snowflakes drifting lazily from the sky. “It doesn’t feel so bad anymore.”

The words are simple, quiet, but they satisfy you in a way you don’t expect.

At some point, Yoongi bends down and scoops up a handful of snow, tossing it lightly at your shoulder.

“Fuck! Did you just—”

“Snowball fight?” he interrupts, smirking.

You retaliate immediately, grabbing snow and throwing it at him with no hesitation. The two of you dissolve into laughter, dodging and weaving through the empty street until you’re both breathless and covered in snow.

“Truce,” Yoongi says, holding up his hands.

“Fine,” you reply, grinning as you catch your breath.

For a moment, you just stand there, the snow falling softly around you. Yoongi’s eyes linger on yours, his expression softer now, and your heart stumbles at the way he looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize this moment.

“Thanks,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For this,” he murmurs, gesturing around him. “For reminding me why I came back.”

You and Yoongi fall into an easy rhythm, one that feels almost too good to be true. Mornings at the cultural center turn into afternoons spent working side by side—him scribbling notes onto sheet music while you answer emails and manage ticket sales. Sometimes, you’ll both stop to grab dinner at the little diner down the street or head back to your place where you cook something simple while he steals pieces of food off your cutting board.

Nights are quieter. Softer. When the world feels too still, Yoongi finds his way to your side—whether it’s a late phone call or the two of you under your duvet.

You don’t talk about what happens next. You don’t ask if he’ll stay when the concert is over, and he doesn’t offer to explain.

The night of the concert is perfect.

The performers are brilliant—the children’s choir sings their hearts out, the folk band gets the crowd clapping, and the dancers earn a standing ovation. Yoongi’s arrangements tie everything together seamlessly, each note lifting the room higher and higher until it feels like the entire town is glowing.

Before he goes on stage, Yoongi gives you a mini heart attack. He tells you that he’s playing a different piece. Trust me, he says.

You don’t say much after, because while you don’t like to be blindsided for an important night like this, you also trust his judgment.

And when Yoongi takes the stage, sitting at the piano under the soft glow of the stage lights, you think you might actually cry. He adjusts the mic, shakes his newly dyed black hair, and starts to play. It’s a song you’ve never heard before—something gentle and wistful, the kind of melody that wraps itself around you like a memory. You watch his hands move across the keys, effortless and sure, his expression soft with focus, and you realize you’ve never seen him look more himself than he does in this moment.

Suddenly Jungkook’s angelic vocals slide seamlessly through the melody, “Was it honestly the best…”

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope that the best is yet to come.

When the concert ends and the crowd finally clears, you and your team stay late, cleaning up the venue, storing props, and celebrating quietly with a bottle of champagne Jimin “borrowed” from the local bar. Yoongi stays, too, quietly helping to pack away cables and lights while Jungkook regales the group with exaggerated stories about the night’s performances.

It’s not until the clock hits two in the morning that you’re finally back home, exhausted but still buzzing with the afterglow of the show.

When you wake the next morning, it feels like the entire world is holding its breath. Today is the day. Today, you’ll know if it was enough.

The cultural center feels too quiet as you sit at your desk, staring at the final numbers. Your chest feels tight, the numbers swimming on the page no matter how many times you try to tally them.

You didn’t raise enough. You’re 10 per cent short.

The realization hits like a punch to the gut, and you have to close your eyes for a moment to steady yourself. It’s so close—painfully close—but it’s not enough. And you ran out of time.

You swallow the lump in your throat and grab your coat.

Mr. Choi doesn’t look surprised when you tell him.

“You did good,” he says, though his voice is heavy with finality. “But it’s not enough to match their offer. I’m sorry.”

“There has to be another way,” you insist, the desperation creeping into your voice. “What if I talk to the buyer? What if they’ll accept—”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You can try,” he says reluctantly. “The buyer’s representative is still in town.”

Your heart skips. “Who is it?”

He flips through a file on his desk, his tone casual as he reads the document, “Min Yoongi.”

The room tilts. You stare at him, uncomprehending. “Who?”

“Min Yoongi,” he repeats, glancing up at you. “He’s the representative for the corporation looking to buy the property. I can give you his e-mail address…”

The words hit you like ice water, each one sinking deeper until you can’t breathe. Yoongi.

It doesn’t make sense. How could he—?

Why would he—?

You don’t even remember leaving the municipal office. You don’t remember driving to Yoongi’s house, pounding on the door.

“Yoongi.”

“Hey,” he starts, his expression shifting when he sees your face. “What’s—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like everything’s fine. Just tell me the truth, Yoongi. Were you ever going to tell me you’re the buyer?”

The color drains from his face. “You found out.”

“That’s all you have to say?” you snap, your chest tightening as the hurt spills out of you. “You fucking lied to me, Yoongi. This whole time—why? Why would you let me fight for this place if you were just going to take it away?”

“I wasn’t going to take it away,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “Not anymore.”

You stare at him, disbelief crashing into you. “What does that even mean?”

Yoongi exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It means I didn’t know what this place still meant to you when I came back. I thought it was just another deal. Another property my company wanted to acquire.”

“And when you did know?” Your voice cracks, your anger laced with pain. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Yoongi hesitates, his hands curling into fists. “Because I didn’t want to ruin everything.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Well, congratulations. You ruined it anyway.”

“Stop,” he says softly, reaching out, but you step back. “Let me finish.”

“No.” you say. “This,” gesturing to him and you, “is finished.”

The next few days are a blur of misery. The maknaes try to distract you, but nothing works. Yoongi’s absence feels like a physical thing—an ache that sits heavy in your chest no matter what you do.

The memory of his voice echoes in your mind, soft and broken, but it only makes the pain in your heart worse.

When you hear from his mother that he’s left town, it shouldn’t surprise you. Of course he’s gone. That’s what Yoongi does.

But somehow, it hurts more this time.

Christmas Day comes and goes.

For the first time in forever, you don’t get a post card from Yoongi.

The glow from your phone illuminates the room as the opening chords of Last Christmas begin to play through your Bluetooth speaker. You’re on your bed, surrounded by chaos—crumpled tissues, a mostly empty tub of ice cream balanced precariously on your thigh, and the infamous box of postcards from Yoongi spilled across your sheets.

The postcards feel heavier than they should, each one like a tiny punch to the chest. You pick one up at random—a simple postcard of a Seoul skyline dusted with snow. Yoongi’s neat handwriting is scrawled on the back: Merry Christmas. Hope you’re staying warm.

Snot drips onto the edge of the card, and you yelp, scrambling to wipe it off. “Oh my God, I’ve hit rock bottom,” you groan, tossing the tissue into the general direction of the trash can but missing entirely.

You glance at the box again, and the next card catches your eye. You sniffle harder, and your vision blurs again. 

Your eyes land on one of the Polaroids from the box, its edges slightly bent from years of flipping through them. It’s an old selfie Yoongi sent—his mint green hair poking out from under a beanie, but his sharp eyes and stupidly pretty smirk still visible. “I hate you,” you mumble, though the ache in your chest says otherwise.

You grab a Sharpie from your nightstand and draw devil horns sprouting from his head, a dramatic handlebar mustache, and, for good measure, a pitchfork in the corner.

Three sharp knocks sound at the door, startling you. You quickly swipe at your face, sitting up. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Hoseok’s voice calls through the door.

Oh no. You glance at the mess around you—the tissues, the ice cream, the pile of Yoongi memorabilia that screams pathetic. “Go away, Hobi! I’m fine.”

The door creaks open anyway, and Hoseok steps in, his ever-present sunshine energy cutting through the gloom of your room. You forget he knows where the spare key is hidden. 

He takes one look at you—puffy eyes, snotty tissues, Wham still crooning in the background—and doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “Wow. This is a whole ass vibe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, tossing a pillow weakly in his direction.

He catches it easily, stepping further into the room. His eyes fall on the postcards scattered across the bed, and his teasing expression softens. “So it’s true, then.”

You blink. “What’s true?”

Hoseok sets the pillow down and walks over, sitting on the edge of your bed. He doesn’t say anything right away, just glances at the Polaroid still clutched in your hand. “I’m not even gonna ask about that. Yoongi told me what happened.”

Your stomach twists, embarrassment rising like a tidal wave. “Great. Now everyone knows how much of an idiot I am.”

“Hey,” he says gently, nudging your shoulder. “You’re not an idiot. Yoongi’s the idiot.”

That gets a weak laugh out of you, and Hoseok’s smile widens. He leans in, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. It’s so warm, so comforting, that you let yourself melt into it, burying your face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know how much he means to you.”

You sniffle. “Why do you sound like he’s dead?”

Hoseok laughs, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Because you’re acting like it.”

“Did he send you here?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“No,” Hoseok says quickly. “But he… he wants you to hear him out. He messed up, yeah, but…” He glances at the postcards again. “You guys are made for each other. That’s obvious. Even to a third party like me.”

You groan, throwing yourself back onto the bed dramatically. “It’s not that simple, Hobi.”

“Nothing about love is simple,” he says, lying down beside you. His gaze moves to the ceiling as he continues. “And honestly? You two are the most disgustingly in love people I’ve ever seen.”

Your head snaps toward him. “We are not—”

“Oh, really?” Hoseok interrupts, his grin returning. “Because I saw you and Yoongi making out in the middle of the skating rink. Right there. In public. In front of children.”

Your jaw drops. “You what?”

“Yeah. Had to shield my eyes from the sheer amount of PDA,” he teases. “I almost called it in as a public disturbance.”

You can’t help it—you laugh. A real, genuine laugh that feels like it breaks through the heaviness in your chest. “You’re so stupid.”

He glances at the mess on your bed one more time before standing. “Look, I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now. But at least let him explain. You deserve to know the truth.”

He pats your head lightly, like a parent soothing a child. “Now, go wash your face. You look like Mrs. Claus who failed a breathalyzer.”

“That’s a dumb joke!” You chuck a pillow at him again, but this time, you’re laughing as he dodges it and disappears out the door.

For the first time in days, you feel a little lighter.

When Mr. Choi calls you the next morning, you almost don’t pick up.

“The offer’s been retracted,” he says, his voice calm but tinged with disbelief. “The cultural center is safe.”

You blink, stunned. “What?”

“Not only that,” he continues, “but the previous buyer left a donation to help fund renovations. You can expand the center. Improve it.”

Your heart stops. You didn’t need to ask who.

You already know.

It’s New Year’s Eve. You don’t know why today of all days you finally get a grip on your emotions. You figure today is just as good as any other to do something crazy.

You clutch your phone in your hand, Yoongi’s name glaring up at you in your call history, unanswered. You don’t know what you’ll say when you find him, or if he’ll even want to see you, but you have to see him. You have to know why he did this—why he left, why he pulled out of the deal, why he did it all without saying a word.

The hours stretch long and thin, and by the time the bus pulls into the station in Seoul, the city is already blanketed in a soft layer of snow.

The snow falls softly around you as you stand in front of Yoongi’s apartment building (his eomma was more than willing to text the address), your breath clouding in the air. When he opens the door, his eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t say anything—he just steps aside, letting you in.

“I heard what you did,” you say quietly, your voice trembling. “The center’s safe. You even donated to help renovate it.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

He looks at you, his dark eyes soft but unsteady, bags underneath it from many a sleepless night. “Because it was the right thing to do. And because I owed it to you—to the town—to make up for leaving the way I did.”

You shake your head, your chest tightening. “You didn’t owe me anything, Yoongi. You could’ve just told me.”

“I know,” he says softly, his voice tinged with regret. “But I didn’t know how to. And I was scared. Scared that if I told you, I’d ruin the one good thing I’ve had in years.”

“Yoongi…”

“I stayed quiet because I thought I could fix it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. “I knew if I told you the truth, you’d hate me. And I didn’t want that—I couldn’t risk losing you again. So I started looking for another way. I’ve been talking to my company, trying to get them to pull out of the deal, to reallocate the funds to save the center instead.”

You blink, his words sinking in slowly. “You… what?”

“I’ve been trying to undo it,” he says, his dark eyes heavy with something you can’t quite name. “I tried to help in whatever way I could, because you—you deserve to win. You deserve to have that place. I just…” He exhales shakily. “I messed up.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, confusion swirling in your chest.

He takes a step closer, his gaze steady now. “I’m sorry. For everything—for leaving, for lying, for not trusting you enough to tell you the truth. I just…” He hesitates, his voice faltering.

“You didn’t have to leave,” you say, your voice trembling. “You didn’t have to run. I know I pushed you away when I found out that you were the buyer. But if you told it to me in the first place, I would’ve understood,” you admit, the words catching in your throat. “I would’ve believed you.”

Yoongi watches you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint musk of his cologne.

“Would you have asked me to stay?” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “Yes.”

The word hangs between you, suspended in the air, and something in Yoongi’s gaze softens.

“I’m here now,” he says quietly. “I’m not running. I’m not leaving. I don’t want to.”

He reaches up slowly, hesitantly, and brushes a snowflake from your cheek with the back of his knuckles. The touch is light, fleeting, but it sends warmth spreading through you, curling in your chest and settling deep in your bones.

For a moment, neither of you moves. You just stand there, inches apart. And then Yoongi leans in, closing the distance between you, and kisses you. Your lips slide against his, your hands curling into the front of his sweater as the rest of your worries fall away.

When you finally pull back, breathless and trembling, Yoongi rests his forehead lightly against yours, his hands still cradling your face. Before he can lean in again,

“Come home,” you whisper, the word escaping before you can stop it.

Yoongi looks at you with something so raw, so vulnerable, it takes your breath away. “Okay,” he says softly, his voice deep. “If you want me to, I will.”

You nod, your tears spilling over now. “I really do.”

“Good, because I’m out of a job and I need you to fund my unhealthy caffeine addiction.”

“What?”

“It’s ok, I’ve been thinking about it for years anyway.” He shrugs, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “I came to Seoul for music, but somehow I got roped into the capitalism I’ve always hated. Moving back feels… right.”

Later, you find yourselves on his rooftop, bundled together under a fleece blanket as the fireworks light up the Han River below. You share his bougie white truffle parmesan & rosemary popcorn (it’s actually good, though) and a bottle of chardonnay. You lean against his shoulder, link your hands together, hearts full of the promise of a new beginning.

You settle in your seat as the bus begins its journey back to Seollim Hollow. Yoongi had to stay behind for a few days to tie up loose ends, but the promise of his return lingers like a heartbeat in your chest.

As the city fades into the distance, your phone buzzes with a new message.

Yoongi: Check your coat pocket

Intrigued, you reach inside, your fingers brushing against something small and stiff. When you pull it out, your breath catches.

It’s a postcard. 

His handwriting is as familiar as ever, the letters neat but tilted just slightly to the left. This time, though, the message is different.

Not a simple Merry Christmas.

Not a quick Hope you’re well.

Not some generic line he thought you might want to hear.

This one has only three words.

I love you.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the card, the edges soft from where it’s been handled. The words feel heavy, monumental, a promise etched onto paper.

You press the postcard to your chest, your eyes stinging as the bus carries you closer to home. Though, when you think about it, home feels like a person you just left in a high-rise in Hannam.

A week later, you find Yoongi standing on your doorstep, that gummy smile you love lighting up his face. His suitcase sits at his side, snowflakes caught in his hair, and he looks at you like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever asked.

“Hi,” he says softly, his voice warm despite the cold.

“Hi,” you say, leaning against the door frame.

And in that moment, you know—this is it. The chance to start over. The start of something real, something you both waited for, something you’ll build up piece by piece.

And finally, you’ll live a life you’ll both love.

Together.

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed my first Holiday fic ever. If it feels extra cheesy and sappy than my other stories, it’s Hallmark-inspired so it needed to be that way. 🙂 As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section. A reblog would also be amazing!

Thank you so much for reading this you lovely, beautiful human xo

And I know it’s already been days since we kicked off 2025, but I hope you have had an amazing start to the year and the rest of the days are filled with love, laughs, and Bangtan! 💜✨

Permanent Taglist (Part 1)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

The rest to follow in a reblog.

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 19th of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: Can you hear it? Are your ears filled to the brim with the Christmas music playing in stores? And you are still ready to open another door? Thank you very much, lovelies! I hope you enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sebastian (SDV) x Fem!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 498 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:

Sebastian might be our local emo boy and you would rarely ever get it out of him, but he does enjoy winter and the Winterstar season – he just hates the commitments around it, especially on the day of.

That wouldn’t mean he would rain on your parade, though. No, he would help you decorating your house, would carry your bags when you went gift shopping (with one earbud in ear because the people around you are just so loud), helping you bake cookies, you name it. He would be there.

But, if we are being honest, Seb probably wouldn’t be a holly jolly little elf, too much things on his mind, too many people pretending, too much annoying etiquette. Why the hell would he pretend he liked Clint just because someone put a star on a tree? And why the hell would he say something nice to Demetrius just because some random singer in the background preached about the importance of family with these annoying ass jingles?

He was nice to the people he cared about, wasn’t that enough? For example he would only cock his brow whenever he entered Sam’s room that resembled a Winterstar wonderland and never say anything. See? That was nice!

Still, you would notice Sebastian’s mood shift the closer the Feast of the Winterstar came. You knew he would probably lighten up again the day of (he would say he is just acting for the family, but he had seemed to mellow out ever since you had joined the family table), and since you were a good spouse, you decided to spice things up a little.

Sebastian’s eyes would light up when you dangled the opportunity of a spicy gift exchange between the two of you in front of him.

Of course he would agree immediately – what was he? Stupid? Hell no. He would grin up at you with a mischievous glint in his pretty eyes before telling you to bring it on.

His slender fingers were wrapped around the box in his hand with utmost care, holding onto it oh so gently. He had spent hours looking for the perfect gift for your very own spicy exchange, and he had to admit, he was kind of proud of it. The little vibrator would be perfect for your nights out at the saloon or for when he decided to be a total asshole and overstimulate you to the point of tears. Maybe for when you cockwarmed him because you just couldn’t wait for him to finish his project, too. “Seb?” A soft voice asked, making him look up from the box in his hand, jaw falling open when he saw you. You were completely bare, aside from thigh-highs and a black collar with the matching leash in your hand. You gave him a shy, almost bashful smile, but there was no time for any explanation with how quick you were pinned to the couch, long fingers wrapping around the leather of the leash.

[littlemessyjessi]

"Holly Jolly at The Hard Deck" : A Holiday Top Gun Maverick Imagine: Robert "Bob" Floyd

…….

Holiday Top Gun Maverick Imagine

Robert “Bob” Floyd x Plus Size Reader PS Reader, Reader 

Use of Y/N because (I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again) if I focus on a fully thought out character… none of us will get to see the end of this imagine until next December… if we’re lucky.  Though I have supplied a backstory/family for her though because… plot.  And also I can’t help myself, lol.  

Fem Identifying reader because I love women and I do enjoy writing for them.  But also bi-panic so ya know, lol. 

If you're under 18, see yourself out. Love you but no. Auntie loves you but get out and come back when you're legal. Tis no place for children. Love you but bye.

Warnings: Use of booze because well, The Hard Deck.  

…..

…..

…..

Pete Mitchell all but elbowed his way into The Hard Deck. 

An exasperated glance from Bradley told him he wasn’t alone in thinking that it was getting more and more crowded in here every day. 

By the time he’d finally made it to the bar… he was sweating. 

Penny was running around like a madwoman. 

“Uh, Pen? What’s got this place so packed?” 

The woman turned with a tired smile, “You know the new waitress I hired?” 

“Yeah…” Bradley said, taking a seat beside Mav.  “What? She up and quit?” 

“No, no.” Penny laughed, placing their usuals down in front of them. 

“When she said she had previous experience and a business degree, I didn’t realize -”  she said only to be cut off. 

“Coming through!” 

Penny just stepped back out of the way as a very soft, cushiony woman breezed past them. 

“New girl?” Pete asked. 

“Not bad.” Bradley said, head tilting as he checked her out. 

Penny did not hesitate to slap him upside the head. 

“Remember my rules, Bradshaw.  You disrespect a lady and you buy a round for everyone.” she warned.  

“I wasn’t disrespecting!” he said. “I was just admiring… respectfully.” 

“Well, get in line.” Penny chuckled. “And good luck.  I think she already has eyes for someone else.” 

Pete chuckled as the woman all but twirled around Robert “Bob” Floyd… and he turned about thirteen shades of red in her presence. 

She pressed a festive little drink into his hand and a kiss to his cheek. 

“Yeah, you’re out of luck, Bradley.” Pete chuckled before turning his attention back to his own lady. “Looks nice in here, Pen.  I like it.” 

“Thank the new girl.” she shrugged. 

Decorating extensively had never been Penny’s thing.  

She enjoyed it once it was up but she’d never quite found the joy of doing it and often got frustrated when she lacked inspiration. 

And she wasn’t a woman who enjoyed scrolling through Pinterest. 

Y/N, it seemed, was the perfect little addition because she had a natural knack for it. 

Suddenly those boxes in the basement that Penny was certain the local church wouldn’t even take… had transformed the place into Holly Jolly at The Hard Deck. 

“Seems like it’s good for business.” Bradley said. 

“Oh, it’s great for business.  The festive little cocktails she keeps posting on social media has helped too.” she said.  

“Oh, The Hard Deck is on social media now?” Bradley teased knowing damn well that the owner had had a previous aversion to such. 

“Look, I didn’t have to do it and she handles it.” Penny shrugged.  “And I’ll admit.  It’s made a huge difference.   It’s the first time in years where I haven’t had to worry about the future of this place.  Sometimes things get tight around here.  At the risk of sounding churchy, she really has been a blessing.” 

“So why do you sound sad when you say that?” 

The three of them looked up to see the woman of the hour weaving her way back around the bar. 

“I feel like I’ve stolen a talent.” Penny laughed.  “You should be somewhere fancy and elegant.  Not here.” 

Y/N outright snorted, “Penny, I was the one that basically begged you for the job. Remember?  I’ve done the high end stuff.  I don’t like it.  There’s no connection.   And besides, with its connection to the Navy… this place feels more like home than I’ve felt in a long time.” 

“Were you in the Navy?” Pete asked curiously. 

“Not me.” she said.  “Both of my parents were though and two of my siblings as well.  They’ve all passed on now so being around here kinda feels like home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Pete offered. 

Y/N shrugged, “I was the surprise that came much later in their life.  My dad was sixty when I was born.” 

Pete and Bradley’s faces clearly showed their shock as the two women laughed. 

“Yeah, apparently that was my dad’s  reaction when my mom told him as well.” Y/N laughed.  “They passed when I was quite young. “My brother and sister mostly raised me but they were navy too.  I was definitely a military brat.  So I’m more comfortable around you meatheads than I am anyone else at times.” 

The pair of them laughed out of shock. 

“Uh huh.” said Penny knowingly.  “And it has nothing to do with a certain WSO?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about it, Miss Benjamin.” Y/N said. “I sought out this job for my own reasons.  The cutie in the glasses just happened to be a MAJOR unexpected perk.” 

“I’ll be sure to tell him you think he’s cute.” Bradley teased. 

“He knows I think he’s cute.  I told him he was fine as hell the first time I saw him.  I don’t think it’s a secret at this point.” she shrugged. 

“Is this where he keeps sneaking off to every spare second these last couple of weeks?” Pete asked Penny as something seemed to click in his head. 

She tried her best to hide her laughter behind her hand but that alone confirmed where that stealthy little twerp had been. 

Another group of men all but crashed onto the counter top, earning a stern glare from Penny but an amused smirk from Y/N. 

“Fellas, it would seem that my ‘fruity little girlie drinks’ have put you on your ass.  Maybe you should call it a night.” Y/N said reaching out to tap the head of one particular man who was a good head taller than she was. 

“‘m fine. Dun no what yer talk bout.” he slurred. “But I do know that Imma take you home tonight.” 

“Consent is required for my company, bud.” she said. “And I’m not giving it to someone who is completely smashed.  Sorry but I’m smarter than that.” 

“Aw, come on!” he slurred. “Don’ be sucha prude.” 

“Hey, you know the rules.” Penny said. “Disrespect a lady and you buy a round.” 

“Excuse me.” came a voice. 

“What?!” the man slurred, turning around with lumbering movements only for a fist to connect with his jaw so solidly that it knocked him flat on his back. 

Bob stood there with a stern expression on his face. 

“The lady said no.  That’s enough of a reason to leave her alone.” he said before he looked at the others over the rim of his glasses. “Anyone else need to learn that lesson?” 

The pub had quieted the moment the sound of knuckles on jaw bone cut through the air but at the look on the lieutenant’s face… they all quietly went back to what they were doing. 

Y/N stood there, a smile working its way onto her lips and pushing up her chubby cheeks. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” Bob turned to ask her but stopped at her smile. “What?” 

“Oh, nothing, Bobby.  You’re just a dream is all.” she said and let loose a dreamy sigh to further prove her point. 

He flushed, red crawling up his neck. 

“Would you two lovebirds just go on, already?” Penny laughed. 

“My shift isn’t over for three hours.” Y/N laughed.  

“Yes but with all this business I’ve had to hire more help and he just walked through the door.” Penny said.  “So you and loverboy go take a walk on the beach before someone else notices you’re pretty and Tiger here breaks a jaw this time.”   

“Bobby?” Y/N questioned.  

“Hmm?” 

“Wanna take a walk on the beach with me?  It’s a little cold but I’m fairly certain you can keep me warm.” 

Bob couldn’t fight his smile when Bradley, and even Pete’s jaw dropped. 

“It would be my honor.” he said, holding out his hand to her. 

She whipped off her apron and handed it to Penny. 

“See you tomorrow.” Penny said. “Use protection.”

“Aw, but that’s no fun.” Y/N pouted. 

Bradley nearly choked to death on his own beer. 

Penny couldn’t stop laughing. 

Pete decided that he liked this new girl. 

And Bob, poor Bob, he fell in love all over again. 

She was a bit like him in a way. 

Sweet at first glance…. but a filthy little beast on the inside. 

Y/N happily took his hand and let him pull her close. 

She was all too willing to let him tuck her into his side and put his arm around her as they stepped out of the pub and into the night air. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you and I are going to have to have a conversation about you and that mouth of yours.  It’s doing all kinds of things to me.” he said, a smirk on his mouth. 

“Oh my mouth could do all sorts of fun things to you, Bobby. If you let me.” she said, a wild little giggle escaping her. 

His jaw ticked, “You’re perfect, you know that?” 

“Well, thank you but I assure you I’m not.”  she said.  “Where would the fun be in that?” 

“Oh, yes and we’re aware of the things you find fun aren’t we?” he said. 

“Look, I have a breeding kink.  I’m on birth control.  I also have a slight ‘I’d like to wear your hands as a necklace kink’. It’s not a big deal.” she said as if she were telling him her guilty pleasure was eating Oreos. 

Bob swallowed and he swallowed hard before turning his face to the sky, “Thank you, God.  Thank you.  I don’t know what I’ve done but this is the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.  Thanks.  He’s real cute, like real cute.  You really do be doing the best work.  Like he’s exactly my type too.  Down to the glasses and voice and everything! And apparently he’s got a dark side. You know I’m into that stuff sometimes.  I knew you loved me, Jesus. Thanks, homie.”  she said. 

Bob couldn’t help but smile at her, “Come on.  Let’s take that walk on the beach.” 

“Ok, but I’d also like to have some kisses on the beach too if it’s not too much to ask. I’m kinda trying to have a liplock with you here, Bobby.” she said.  

“Definitely not too much to ask.” he said. “And if the lady wants, and with your consent of course… the lady might just get some kisses elsewhere too.” 

“The lady gives her consent! The lady gives her consent!” 

And the two of them dissolved into fits of laughter as she took off running, he chased her and the both of them ended up with the sniffles and sand in places that it most definitely should not be. 

…..

…..

…..

….. 

Hello, loves!  I hope you enjoy this holiday content! 

Hope ya’ll are having a great day! 

Love you. 

— 

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K, Love you, Bye!

[riddles-n-games]

Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart

Pairing: Avery and Jameson Summary: Avery has finally gotten downtime to actually settle for the holidays. It's her first Christmas at Hawthorne House and with a new boyfriend. Jameson and her are still figuring things out; can they help each other through the muddle of the last few weeks? Length: Moderate Story Type: One Shot

Tag List: @hathorneheiress, @whatsamongus, @xoxo-lenah, @charsoamerican, @thecircularlibrary, @elif-in-wonderland, @jamcarven, @silly-little-gooses, @mafiasliege, @lyrakanefanatic, @nothankyou3333, @inmyheaddd, @downrightbooks, @no1bookgirl, @elysianwayy77, @ariscats, @never-enough-novels, @goldi-1-graysons-version, @apollospoems, @x-liv25-jamieswife, @anintellectualintellectual, @aaal-iz-well

A/N: Hey guys, Merry Christmas! It was about time we actually had some holiday set fics and what better way than to dedicate it to the couple that started it all? I was inspired by one passage in Secret Santa from Games Untold and so we go back in time to where it all started for Averyjameson, at the most wonderful time of the year. Enjoy! Warning, it's looooooooooooooooooonnnnnnnnnnng.

  “I keep thinking about last Christmas. You were still recovering from the coma.”

    Last Christmas, we hadn’t played Secret Santa.

    Last Christmas, we’d been together, but I hadn’t been his and he hadn’t been mine the way we were now.

ONE YEAR AGO

    It seemed to be his wish and purpose to mask this expression with a smile; but the latter played him false, and flickered over his visage so derisively, that the spectator could see his blackness all the better for it. Ever and anon, too, there came a glare of red light out of his eyes; as if the old man’s soul were on fire, and kept on smouldering duskily within his breast, until, by some casual puff of…

    My throat was starting to feel dry so I carefully reached over for the water bottle. Xander’s Holly Jolly Hot Chocolate Marshmallow Surprise was already halfway gone and I wanted to savor it for as long as I could. There were also only four marshmallows left, to my dismay. In addition, while my plate of sweets was still relatively full, it was already devoid of my favorites, chocolate cupcakes, even though Libby had added extras for that very reason. They never stood a chance and now without them, the plate looked agonizingly empty.

    I unscrewed the cap and brought the bottle to my lips, never taking my eyes off the page.

    … passion, it was blown into a momentary flame. This he repressed as speedily as possible, and strove to look as if nothing of the kind had happened.

    Once hydrated, I put it back down and grabbed a cookie, stuffing it in my mouth before I grabbed another sticky note, taping it on the little desktop attached to the recliner. It was convenient compared to my usual tactic which was using a textbook as a hard surface to write on when I didn’t want to sit hunched at my desk. Grayson would have argued there was no difference where I sat as both resulted in bad posture. 

    I finished off the page and kept the book splayed open as I jotted down my newest annotations for the chapter. When done, I put the sticky note in the free margin and slid the book toward me, flipping to the next page.

    For some time, I continued on with no annotations since there wasn’t anything of note. 

    Or was there, as it rather seemed, a circle of ominous shadow moving along with his deformity, whichever way he turned himself? And whither was he now going? Would he not suddenly sink into the earth, leaving a barren and blasted spot, where, in due course of time, would be seen deadly nightshade, dogwood, hen-bane, and whatever else of vegetable wicke-

    A gasp escaped me as the book toppled off the desktop from my lax grip but luckily my arm reflex was fast enough to grab it before it fell to the floor. But, of course, that still came with a price.

    “Damn it.” I lost my spot on the page. I quickly leafed through familiar territory until I got to the newer stuff I just covered. Thankfully, I realized that I had stopped just a page or two after the start of a new chapter. When I found it, I searched for keywords from what I remembered reading then leaned back in the chair to get comfortable. Before I continued reading, my eyes drifted to the fire in the hearth to the garland decorating the mantle and the antique clock sitting atop it. 9:15, the clock read. It was getting late. 

    I sighed. The day had been long; Alisa occupied me with more papers relating to my emancipation alongside briefings for the Hawthorne Foundation and upcoming events. However, even with all the paperwork, I somehow managed to help Libby bake cupcakes and other holiday desserts, got roped into Xander’s Christmas experiments, and also had some shooting practice with Nash. After it all, I escaped into the circular library to one of the adjoining rooms for some relaxing and to get on with my English reading. 

    In part, I knew that all of this was to keep me distracted from my traumatic ordeals from the past few weeks. While I was pushing for it because I didn’t want to be wallowing in those memories and all the questions that came with them, I was still tired. I needed this. 

    My gaze drifted to the rest of the room, to really take it in for the first time in hours. There was a Christmas tree in the corner, bookshelves lining the walls, a large desk in the back, and another sitting area. It was cozy and with all the Christmas decor, it felt like a Christmas card came to life. Mom would have love- No. Don’t think about it. It’s just gonna hurt you. I blinked back the sudden onset of tears and took steady breaths to keep from crying. But it was too late; my imagination was conjuring up projections of my mom sitting in the opposite chair, making her move on a chessboard, teasing me about doing homework when I could have been taking an epic nap. 

    I shook my head and swiped at my eyes as I leaned over to grab another cookie. I munched on it slowly and turned back to the book. 

    … wickedness the climate could produce, all flourishing with hideous luxuriance? Or would he spread bat’s wings and flee away, looking so much the uglier, the higher he rose towards heaven? “Be it sin or no,” said Hester Prynne bitterly, as she still gazed after him, “I hate the man!” She upbraided herself for the sentiment, but could not overcome or lessen it. Attempting to do so, she thought of those long-past days, in a distant land, when he used to emerge at eventide from the seclusion of his study, and sit down in the fire-light of their home, and in the light of her nuptial smile. He needed to bask himself in that smile, he said, in order that the chill of so many lonely hours among his books might be taken off the scholar’s heart. Such scenes had once appeared not otherwise than happy, but now, as viewed through the dismal medium of her subsequent life, they classed themselves among her ugliest rememb-

    “Avery?” I heard my name being called and I jolted. 

    The question was followed up by a tentative knock on the door. “Heiress?” Jameson.

    “Come in,” I called out.

    The door knob turned and a resounding click later, a dark-haired Hawthorne was standing in the doorway smiling softly at me. He stood there for a beat, awkwardly shuffling his feet and scratching his side as if waiting for a signal or something. Odd. I beckoned with my head for him to come in. It took him another second before he actually made a move. 

    I closed my book and turned to properly face him, flashing him a bright smile in greeting. “Hey, barely saw you today. What have you been up to?” 

    Jameson didn’t reply but clearly what I said put a little more spring in his step. As he got closer, a familiar glint appeared, the kind he got when he was thinking up something clever and his usual smirk came back. When he was finally close enough, he spoke, taking on a poetic tone.

    ‘‘Twas a few nights before Christmas, when all through the House, not a creature was stirring, not even the heiress on her couch.”

    “Not a couch but go on.” He grinned, undeterred.

    “But every so often she’d look to the clock and run a hand through her hair, anxious to know if her devastatingly handsome boyfriend would soon be there.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t miss the way he punctuated the word boyfriend. It sent a shiver down my spine. 

    “She was snug as a bug by the hearth with a book that needed to be read, while thoughts of his potential mischief that day dashed through her head. With an exasperated sigh and a hot chocolate sip, she continued to read all the while thinking how she was going to give him lip, when all of a sudden he burst through the door with his usual swagger, looking rather dapper,” he winked when I snorted at the sheer arrogance, “and sat in the chair beside her to ask her what was the matter.”

    With that end of verse, he plopped into the opposite chair all the while looking terribly pleased with himself. Note to self: learn how to curb this man’s ego. While I admired it at times, if we were going to be in a relationship, I was gonna have to bring his smugness down a few notches. I eyed him carefully.

    “Jameson Winchester Hawthorne.”

    “Avery Kylie Grambs.” The bastard dared to give me that shit-eating grin of his.

    “What did you do?” And more importantly, what are you hiding? 

    “Nothing.” I arched an eyebrow. He chuckled and shook his head. “Can’t believe even for a second that for once I might not have been up to trouble?” My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously.

    “Prior instances dictate otherwise.” And Oren was just outside for back up reconnaissance. His expression morphed into a guilty smile that looked anything but remorseful. I pursed my lips and sighed loudly. “What am I going to do with you?”

    “I don’t know. Hopefully run away with me on a grand adventure.” 

    “Mm. Sounds delightful. But unfortunately, as you yourself said, I have a book to read.” 

    “What is it?” I held the book up. “Scarlet Letter? You really can’t resist Hawthornes, eh?”

    “Not my fault the school curriculum is also obsessed with you,” I grumbled.     

    Jameson chuckled again before growing quiet. Just like that, the playfulness died down and we settled into silence. Both of us turned to look at the hearth. The pleasant crackle of the flames coming from the fireplace and steady ticking beat of the clock were the only ambient noise in the room.

    None of us said anything for a little while but it felt like its own eternity, like a tension was building but not an uncomfortable one. I peaked at Jameson from the corner of my eye, noticing that his smile had faded and looked rather solemn. His eyes glowed an inviting emerald in the firelight. He looked deep in thought, about what, I didn’t know. Suddenly, I picked up on movement coming from his end and it was getting closer to me. Looking down, I realized it was his hand reaching out to my right one that was lax on the armrest.

    Though I saw it coming, I still startled a bit when I felt his fingers brushing against mine. “Sorry.” 

    He didn’t say anything, just continued to do what he was doing and gently took my hand in his. I let him. Looking up, I saw that Jameson had scooted over to the edge of his seat, his eyes trained on our hands as he gently rubbed circles into my skin. I watched him and felt like I couldn’t breathe, terrified to break the spell of this moment, whatever this was. 

    “How are you?” His soft voice broke through my mesmerized daze and realizing he was now looking at me, that rare sincerity in his expression made me feel shy under his gaze. My heartbeat seemed to slow, making each cycle feel like the tension would burst any second and the rush of blood flowing was loud in my ears.

    “I’m okay,” I finally said. He didn’t seem satisfied but didn’t push. Jameson then brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles but it made me wonder. What are you doing? Why are you?

    This wasn’t the first time where he dropped the pretense and turned tender. In the last few weeks, there have been many times where, when we were alone, he’d randomly become gentle and considerate, throwing me for a loop. It was certainly unusual.

    And surprisingly, even though it was happening often, it caught me off guard every time, more so than anything going on these days. We’d been together like usual but my brain still hadn’t really given the thought we were in a relationship until he did something like that. I hadn’t really processed our new status in general with all that’s been going on but I clung to our normalcy like a lifeline. 

    “She told him there was nothing to worry about, but he could see hovering over her head was a gray cloud of doubt.” He looked at me with arched brows. “He was there for whatever she had to say, even if it took an entire day.”

    I smiled and squeezed his hand. “Really, I’m okay. I’m just tired and I don’t want to think about the last few weeks at all. Actually, I was planning on asking Alisa if she could find me a good therapist in the New Year.”

    “That’s good,” he said encouragingly.

    I sighed before continuing, “Thank you for being here for me. I know it’s not your usual style but…” 

    “Maybe, but, I told you that if you chose me, this would mean something. You mean something to me, Avery. I just didn’t know this-us-would happen so soon. That was definitely something I wasn’t counting on.”

    A smirk played on my lips. “Oh, but you were expecting us to get together at some point?”

    Jameson smiled sheepishly. “Only if you could resist my charm for so long.” I guffawed as he rolled his eyes.

    “No, but um, you’re right. I didn’t expect this either. If you had asked further down the line, I don’t think I would have said no then either. But what happened, happened; we can’t change that,” I paused and took a breath, “And honestly, I wouldn’t want to. As cliche as it sounds, we do have our future ahead of us and we get to make decisions together now.”

    “Wow, just wow. That was so motivational. Would you mind skipping a grade so you can be valedictorian for my class next June?”

    “I mean, I could but I don’t think Xander would like that very much.”

    “And why does my little brother take precedence over your boyfriend?” There it was again but I didn’t focus on the way the word made my heart skip a beat.

    “Because he’s already gotten attached to my hip and betrayal would break his precious little heart. Oh, and, he’s promised to stash away 10% of Mrs. Laughlin’s blueberry scones if I swore allegiance to his robots.”

    “Fair enough. That’s Xan for ya,” Jameson said fondly.

    “Yeah. And what about you, Clement Moore? How much of that did you have rehearsed?”

    He smiled shyly and looked down. “Just the first bit. I can make up stuff pretty quickly. The old man used to read to me when I was younger and I liked rhyming words so when I couldn’t sleep I would try to make up as many rhymes as I could until I did. I also used to sleepwalk.” My eyebrows shot up. “Yup. I know.”

    “I can imagine that. Sounds like a very Jameson thing. I-”

    “Um, Heiress, sorry to cut you off but I have to ask you something.” I blinked, taken aback. “Be honest with me, does it bother you when I refer to myself as your boyfriend? I saw the way your eyes widened.”

    “I mean, aren’t you?” A nervous laugh came out as I wasn’t sure what to say.

    “Technically, yes. But I’m not forcing you to call me that or anything. To me, what’s important is what you’re comfortable with.” My heart swelled. This boy.

    “I actually hadn’t given it much thought. With all that’s been happening, whenever our, um, this flits through my head, I would freak out and my mind just didn’t know how to address it. Not that I don’t want to think about us but it’s like a visceral reaction which I hate.” Fearing I said too much I shut my mouth and with bated breath, waited for his reaction. I expected disappointment but was relieved to find no judgment. No, I was met with understanding instead. He squeezed my hand this time and I exhaled slowly.

    Moments like these made me forget he was just Jameson and reminded me that he was now… something more. We became “official” with a coin toss and a kiss then continued doing what we always did. Everybody knew we were together, we didn’t make that a secret, done deal. There just wasn’t a label. And yet, I still felt it in every way that mattered. 

    Except, I wasn’t sure how to express that to him as he was wary about his brother despite Grayson backing off. However, we had to figure other things out between us first. I may be ready to be bold but being bold and wanting to be bold were two different things.

    Part of that was becoming his type of reliable with loyalty being highest priority. I couldn’t change what Emily did, that I knew, but I could help him move past that. Jameson had been doing that for me so much recently and I couldn’t be more grateful. It was hard to believe but the boy who’d played at indifference was also the one who came with his heart on his sleeve, offering to dive headfirst if I chose him. 

    This was the same boy now holding my hand, checking on me because he was worried. What a difference two months made. I knew immediately behind the facade, there was a compassionate young man with a good heart, he just didn’t believe it. I hoped I could change that. 

     With that in mind, I turned back to him. “To dispel any misconception right now; I know what I was saying yes to. I did think about that. A lot. Being with you, being together has been such an important part of my day and it keeps me sane. And-” My voice cracked suddenly, surprising me. “And…”

    “Heiress?” My eyes landed on his concerned face, darting over each feature and taking in the details until I was swept into the memory of the day with the postcards. 

    The hidden letters. The words of longing. Toby. Sarah who was actually Hannah. The same forward as backward. Hannah, oh Hannah. My mother being described through someone else’s eyes. Their love story. Me wanting to be left alone. Jameson being the first to address that. Jameson ushering everyone out. Jameson leaving. Jameson giving up on a clue. Jameson putting aside the mystery. Jameson. Jameson. Jameson.

    A sob escaped me. My hand flew over my mouth in reflex. I didn’t understand why but another one followed and another. Jameson was in front of me in a flash. His arms wrapped around me as my vision blurred with tears. The last thing I did register was my nose pressing against something hard but covered by a soft material and my eyes fluttered shut, letting the tears fall.

    I didn’t know how much time passed but the tears felt never ending, my cheeks were sticky and the sobs coming out were shallow gasps. Images of my mom danced through my mind, especially those from the last Christmas with her. That morning she’d been wearing a robe over her pjs with a steaming mug of coffee in her hand, hair loose for once, all excited as she slid a wrapped present over the counter toward me. It had been a book I wanted, special edition, which I scolded her for but Mom had laughed it off, bringing me into a hug and wishing me a Merry Christmas. But most memorable had been her luminous smile, so joyous and bright that it made our home feel that much warmer. I inhaled sharply as my eyes snapped open.

    “Mom. Mom. Why’d you have to go?” I whispered, breathless. 

    “She was sick, Heiress. But I bet she fought every day to be with you.” 

    “Mom, I want my Mom! I need her. And Toby, Toby… H-He left me and I needed him. He left me. I needed him. I told him not to go but he said he couldn’t stay. I-” I hiccuped a sob and felt another onslaught coming.

    “I know. I’m sure he wanted to but your safety means to him more. It does to me too.” And just like that a fresh damn of tears broke through and I was dry heaving with the unrelenting heavy sobs that came wave after wave after wave. But through it all, Jameson never let me go.

    When I finally came to, I realized I quite literally used Jameson’s shoulder to cry on and the soft material had been his green cashmere sweater that was now soaked. As I swiped at my crusted eyes, I said, “Sorry about your sweater.” 

    He smiled and shrugged. “I don’t mind. It clearly served a good purpose.” That got him a weak laugh from me. Jameson slowly brought up a hand and wiped at a stray tear before leaning down to kiss my forehead. I watched him warily as he pulled away and frowned when I saw him pull out a handkerchief from his pocket. He used it to gently wipe at the tear tracks on my cheeks.

    Once he finished I brought it up. “Since when do you have a need for handkerchiefs, Mr. Darcy?”

    He chuckled. “Since I had to start offering to wipe away the tears of young ladies who have been most unconsolable by any other actions. Don’t worry, I don’t make a habit of stealing my brother’s brooding English gentleman aesthetic too often.” I couldn’t help but laugh too.

    “Are you feeling better now?” 

    I nodded. “Yeah. Just didn’t think I had that in me.”

    Jameson looked thoughtful for a moment before bringing his hand up again and caressing my cheek. I leaned into it. “You know, far be it from me to tell you what you do or don’t need, but I think you’ve needed to do that for a while. As you said, so much has happened in the last few weeks which your brain hasn’t had time to process and instead it just kept pushing it all aside until this moment.”

    “I guess. I just… I miss my mom. I’ve been getting better at acknowledging the fact that she’s, you know… gone after these two years but now all that we’ve found out, it just brought back that feeling so much stronger. And it feels like I’m back at square one.” He nodded solemnly. 

    “Yup, that seems to be the power of grief. There are days when I feel like the old man is still around and like he’s just about to pop out from any corner. Then I remember he’s not and I lose it. I go into the passages and just walk until I get out and go to the next one until I inevitably end up on the roof.” 

    I sighed. “I think she would have liked this place. As weird as everything is about you Hawthornes, this seems like her kind of place.”

    He huffed amusedly. “Hypocritical much?”

    “Potato potahto.” Cue eye rolling. “And I think she would have liked you too.” Jameson looked at me curiously. “Yeah, she would have loved your spontaneity. You two would get along. I think you’d enjoy playing our games and I can see her coming up with more. Although, you’d probably make me go crazy and wonder what I unleashed on the world.” 

    “At least I know I’d be on your mom’s good side.” I snorted. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

    “Maybe. But then she’d drop not so subtle hints and I would give in eventually because I know she’s right. Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t make you work for it.”

    “I don’t doubt it.” 

    “Good. But most of all, I think she’d love your compassion.” 

    There was silence and then a sharp inhale. “Heiress…”

    “You are good. You have a good heart, Jameson Hawthorne.” I didn’t leave room for arguing and narrowed my eyes at him for good measure. Whether he liked it or not, I had told the truth and I was going to make him believe it. “Say what you want but I’m going to repeat it until you believe it. I’ll do what I have to, no matter how long it takes.”

    As I finished my grand declaration, he had the audacity to smirk. “Anything?” 

    “Anything within reason,” I amended with a scowl. He chuckled and then rose up.

    “While I’m sure you will and I will more than likely accept defeat one day, there is something you could do for me.”

    “And what would that be?” I asked suspiciously.

    “Well, with it being the holidays and since it’s our first Christmas together, would you mind joining me under the mistletoe, Miss Grambs?” I blinked as I watched him take out a sprig of mistletoe from his sleeve. 

    He went to the fireplace and somehow tied it to the garland. I got up from my recliner and walked towards him. As soon as I got within range, one of his arms wrapped around my waist and pulled me into him as my hands instinctively went on his chest. Jameson then brought his free hand up and brushed hair out of my face before cupping my cheek. I gazed at his face all the while and admired the way he looked in the soft glow of the fire. 

    “May I?” I nodded. Slowly, he leaned down and tentatively connected his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and got lost in it, entertaining the fantasy of the mistletoe kiss. I cupped the back of his neck and brought my hand into his hair. His hold at my waist tightened ever so slight. It was slow and gentle and perfect. Too perfect. But even so, just for a moment, I let myself believe we were perfect.

    When we parted, I opened my eyes and looked at him, expecting him to be looking back but his eyes were shut. “Jameson?” 

    “Hmm?”

    “You ok?” 

    “Yeah. Just taking it in Heiress.” When he opened his eyes, he wore a soft smile that made me feel shy again. He kissed the side of my head. “Thank you for that.”

    “Oh. You’re welcome,” I said bashfully. 

    He hummed a reply before speaking up again, “So, what did you think? Does it fulfill your expectation of a mistletoe kiss?”

    I shrugged. “I’ve never really cared about that tradition let alone thought about what it’d be like.”

    “Fair enough. But I do hope I set a standard for you now.” My eyebrows raised in bemusement. “Hey, you’ve got to let me have something to brag about.” I rolled my eyes. 

    “What I would like to know is where you got that sprig in the first place.”

    “All in due time, all in due time. Patience is an arduous virtue one must learn but conquer nonetheless.”

    “Stop philosophizing about something you don’t even have the skill set for.”

    “Well, miss, less questions, more kissing. Simple as that.” 

    “Practice what you preach then, Hawthorne. All I’m hearing is wor-” He shut me up with another kiss and then broke away just as quickly but hovered only a breath away from mine, teasing me before I put a hand to his collar and tugged sharply for him to get on with it. I felt him smile against my mouth and I stood on tiptoe, returning it in kind. We shared a few more kisses, a few playful ones and some just short pecks.

     The next time we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard. As Jameson recovered, he ran his fingers through my hair and smiled thoughtfully at me. “What?”

     He shook his head. “I was just thinking, despite all the shit that happened this year, turns out it was still a good one. You’re here with me even though I didn’t think that after…” I nodded in understanding.

    “Yeah, I get that.” What started out as a terrible year in the trenches with Libby and Drake turned into one of the biggest blessings even with its drawbacks. I had Jameson now and that was all that mattered. As I turned back to him, he pulled me into a warm hug. For a moment we stood like that, just enjoying the comfort it brought before he loosened his hold and broke the silence.

“With a mistletoe sprig and a firelit kiss, the couple started to reminisce, thinking about all that was and all that could be, knowing now they’ve truly become a we, there was room for new merriness and bliss while hoping it would be a very good first Christmas.”

    “Whoa there, Sir Moore. What happened to the rest of the poem?” 

    “Eh, we already got to the good part. Plus, it takes a lot longer when you’re the one trying to make up the rhymes to fit in with the preexisting structure.” 

    “I thought you said you could make stuff up on the spot.” I giggled until he muffled the laugh by pressing his lips to mine again. “Mmmh.” He smirked when he pulled away. 

    “Be my guest, Heiress. Let's see what you got.”

    I grinned at the challenge. “Once he had finished his part and she admired for a time in his art, her thoughts turned forward, past the New Year’s grandness and wondered how they would fill up their blank canvas.”

    His eyebrows rose in surprise. “Impressive. Not bad, not bad. But definitely beginner’s luck.”

    “It’s alright not always being up to my speed, Hawthorne.” 

    “Fine, I shall concede just this once.” I smiled triumphantly. “Merry Christmas, Heiress.”    “Merry Christmas, Jamie.” His resulting smile had never been more beautiful or joyous than in that moment. When he leaned in to kiss me again, I really did wonder about the year to come and what it would bring. Let it be a good one, please.

   “Merry Christmas, Heiress.”

   “Merry Christmas, Jamie.” His resulting smile had never been more beautiful or joyous than in that moment. When he leaned in to kiss me again, I really did wonder about the year to come and what it would bring. Let it be a good one, please.

A/N: See you in the next one! Hopefully will get a few more out before the true end of holidays. Merry Christmas once more and Happy New Year to everyone!!!!!!

[demonsanddemogorgons]

Most Precious Gift - A Joseph Quinn Christmas One-Shot

Just a little Christmas blurb I came up with. Enjoy.

It's almost Christmas and you just aren't in the mood for it without Joe around.

Word Count: 2k

18+ for language and mild/implied smut

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and you were at home getting dressed for your ultrasound shift at the hospital. Joe had been away for about a month for filming his new movie. You missed him beyond description, but you knew he still had work left to do. You walked through the kitchen to your entryway to put your shoes on, completely ignoring the undecorated state of your house. There was no point in decorating since Joe couldn’t be there to enjoy it with you. Your friends kept asking what you were doing for Christmas, and you were tired of responding with I don’t know, probably just stay home. They encouraged you to fly to where you grew up to be with your family since Joe wasn’t home, but you just weren’t feeling it. Spending the holidays without him just didn’t feel right, even if you were still with people you loved. You couldn’t wait for it all to be over so everyone’s cheer would stop making you want to vomit. Scrooge wasn’t half bad; he just wanted everyone to shut up about how happy they were. Holly Jolly was waaaaaay on the other side of the emotional spectrum from where you were.

You headed out to your car and began the drive to work, losing focus, wondering how Joe was doing, what he was doing right now in Malta, how filming was coming along. He hadn’t called or texted in two days; you tried not to be upset about it because you knew he was busy, and it was difficult with time changes. It was just hard being alone for so long and so close to Christmas.

You got to work and tried distracting yourself by indulging in it. If a patient arrived, you took them for their scan before a coworker even had a chance to get out of their chair. After a few hours of this, they began to notice.

“You’ve done like double the number of patients today that is typical, and we haven’t done anything. Take it easy, there’s three of us here today. You don’t need to overwhelm yourself,” your coworker Maddie said to you. You let your lips turn up into a small, not very reassuring smile.

“I’m just trying to focus on something else besides Joe,” you replied, feeling tears well up in your eyes and trying to hold them back.

“I’m sorry,” she said, placing her hand on your shoulder. “Being apart is never easy, but you don’t have to be alone. I’m having a Christmas Eve party tomorrow night. Why don’t you come over? I’m planning drinking games,” she smirked, nudging you with a giggle.

"I really appreciate that, Maddie, but I’m just not feeling it this year. I’d rather just stay on my couch and pretend it’s any other normal day.”

“Ignoring something doesn’t make it go away,” she said, her tone changing. You knew she was trying to be supportive, but you were getting that from everyone lately, and you were a bit over it. You were too emotionally disconnected at this point for anything to make an impact. You nodded and turned back to the computer to finish your paperwork on your last patient, trying to politely signal to her that the conversation was over. “Please let me do the next one. I really don’t want the supervisor asking why you did way more than the rest of us today,” she said as she walked back over to her chair, realizing you just needed left alone in your element.

You finished out your shift after trying to let Maddie and Lexie share some of the work, regardless of your apprehension.

“If you change your mind, the party is at 6 tomorrow at my place,” Maddie said as you were gathering your things and putting your coat on.

“Thanks,” you said somberly. You did appreciate her efforts deep down; it was nice to have someone to look out for you.

You headed home, eager to put on your fuzzy pajamas, fix yourself a cup of hot cocoa and plant your ass on the couch for the next two days. When you pulled into your driveway, your eyes were drawn to the front window where you could see twinkling lights. Upon looking closer, you saw your Christmas tree decorated and lit.

“What the...” you said out loud to yourself, trailing off. What? Who? How? You climbed out of your car and headed towards the door. Once getting inside, you took your shoes off on the welcome mat in the entry way and hung your coat on the hook, making your way into the kitchen. It was decorated with Christmas knick-knacks and tea towels – all kinds of things you had packed away in the basement and didn’t bother to get out this year. You passed through to the living room, seeing the Christmas tree decorated and lit, an evergreen garland lying out over the fireplace mantle with lights strung throughout it, stockings hanging, more knick-knacks set out, a Christmas blanket laid neatly on back of the couch, the works. Your heart swelled at the sight; you could feel that familiar feeling you normally got during the Christmas season washing warmth over you. But who-

Just then in your peripheral vision, you saw a figure pass into the room through the doorway beside the Christmas tree from the stairway. Your eyes changed focus to see Joe standing there, dressed in a Christmas sweater and jeans. It took you a minute to process what you were seeing so you were frozen, staring for a moment as your eyes widened.

“J-Joe?” was all you could muster out.

“Hey, lovey,” he said, making his way closer to you. He put his arms around your waist and pulled you closer. You rested your head on his chest, pressing your face into him as he hugged you. Okay, he really is here. I can touch him, feel him, smell him. You pulled away and looked up into his beautiful chocolate brown eyes.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you were filming.”

He put his hand on your cheek and brushed his thumb along it.

“We got some things done ahead of schedule, so they gave us a break for the holiday,” he responded quietly and soothingly, looking down into your eyes with the most loving look.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you said with a giggle.

“Maybe this will help then, yeah?” he said with a smirk as he leaned in and put his lips on yours. Fireworks exploded in your head. You’d missed him so much, and every time he kissed you felt like the first time. Your lips parted slightly to allow his tongue to enter, running along your bottom lip. You hummed in response, moving your arms up to be around his neck and pull him closer as your lips worked in unison. You pulled away slowly and leaned your forehead against his.

“God, I’ve missed that,” you mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. He chuckled, rubbing his hands on your lower back as he held you close.

“I’ve missed you so much, too, darling.”

You pulled back a little to take another look at your freshly decorated house.

“Did you do all of this?” you asked even though you already knew the answer.

“Of course I did, baby. You love Christmas, why didn’t you decorate?”

You sighed and put your hands on his forearms, running your thumbs over them lovingly.

“I couldn’t, not without you. I hate celebrating knowing you’re working and can’t be here to enjoy it with me.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“I’m here now, love. I was hoping to catch you before you went to work, but my flight got delayed. I arrived not long after you left and saw the house undecorated. It made me so sad, darling; I know how much you love it to be. So, I decided to surprise you.”

You smiled up at him and pulled him in for another hug.

“Thank you. God, I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, my love. And this isn’t the whole surprise.”

You pulled out of the hug and looked up at him in confusion.

“C’mere,” he said, dragging you to the kitchen pantry. He opened the door to show ingredients for cookies. “I thought we could spend the day together tomorrow baking Christmas cookies. I got everything for snickerdoodles, peanut butter cookies, those ones you like with the chocolate kiss in the middle. And for tonight, I got out the electric blanket and some chocolate covered pretzels. I’ll make up some hot cocoa, and we can watch Rudolph and Frosty together.”

Like the Grinch, you could feel your heart growing three sizes at his words. He was bringing the Christmas excitement back into you.

“Joe, that sounds perfect.” You pulled him in for another tender kiss. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

“I love you so much, and I’m so glad you’re home. That’s the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for.”

“I love you, too, darling.”

You looked up at him with a smirk.

“I have to be honest, Joe. I had a Christmas surprise put away for you that I didn’t expect to need, but now that you’re home...” you trailed off as he looked at you with a confused face. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Alright, love.” Joe reluctantly headed for the couch while you ran upstairs. What could she possibly be doing? You were gone for over five minutes when he began to wonder what was going on. He walked over to the bottom of the stairs and looked up.

“Darling? You alright?” he called.

“Yeah,” your voice echoed from the bedroom. “Almost done.”

Joe stood there confused, but his attention was quickly caught by you standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a red bra and panties with white fluffy borders under an open red silk wrap, matching thigh high socks, and a Santa hat. You’d gotten a Christmas lingerie set to wear for him but didn’t expect to be using in this year since he wasn’t supposed to be home. His mouth fell open a little and his eyes widened as he watched you make your way down the stairs. Once you got to the second step from the bottom, he stood in front of you and looked up at you, as if to worship you, while reaching for you. He wrapped his arms around your thighs under your butt and lifted you to him. You smiled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked down at him. He placed kisses on your collarbone and chest.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your skin as he kissed, making you shiver. He was reacting exactly how you’d hoped he would. “Darling, I’d like to live to make it to Christmas,” he joked, earning a giggle from you.

“I don’t know, I think you’ll feel pretty alive after this,” you smirked, leaning down to kiss him.

He carried you back to the living room, his lips continuing their work on yours. He pulled away to throw you on your back onto the couch, and climbed down so he was hovering over you.

“I’ve been such a good boy,” he said softly, earning a smile and a giggle from you as he began kissing down your body, unwrapping his most precious gift with extreme care.

My Master List

The two cups of hot cocoa he had made while you were upstairs sat forgotten on the end table as red fabric was tossed onto the floor. Joe managed to bring the Christmas warmth and spirit back into you in more ways than one. You were truly a different person when he was around; he made you better in every aspect – sight, thoughts, actions. You didn’t need gifts to feel loved and appreciated. Joe was good at making you feel that way all on his own. He was the best gift you could have ever received, for any holiday.

[agentplutonium]

All I Want (Is You)

It was Christmas morning. Milo knew that, realistically, he probably wouldn’t win this year. However, in one more throw-away shot, Milo tried one more time. By some miracle, he was up before Sweetheart was and he was able to sneak out to the kitchen to set his trap. The mistletoe went up in the doorway. He grabbed a book and his glasses, getting into position just as he heard Sweetheart shuffling down the hall.

Milo tries to charm Sweetheart into giving him a kiss in 1275 words.

Tags: Christmas Fluff, Christmas, Mistletoe, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, I think we get the picture already /lh, it really is nothing other than a prompt fill that I found cute, it is just the two of them being dorks in love, Milo is trying to win a 'competition' that he set up six years ago, and he only won cause sweetheart took pity on him

Based on this post. On AO3, if you prefer that format as well!

("oh pluto you didn't have to write such a long fic from that-" I know I didn't. I did anyway, because I am gay and in a holly jolly mood okay. moving on. (/lh))

Milo has gotten many past partners to kiss him under the mistletoe.

It was a tradition with him. He would usually put it somewhere obvious, so that it was visible to guests, and wait. There was always at least once where his partner at the time would stand under it, knowingly or not, and Milo got to pull his favourite move. It never failed him in the holiday season.

Except for with one person. Which was Sweetheart. In six years he hasn’t been able to kiss them under that mistletoe, but this year was different. This year, he was going to kiss them by Christmas. 

And he tried. He tried so damn hard. But somehow, some way, Sweetheart saw through his bluffs or saw where the mistletoe was. They would avoid him like the plague if he was acting “suspicious” in any way. They would be lured under it by his charm just to look up at the wrong second and worm themselves away. It was a continuous game of cat and mouse, and Milo wanted to win.

It was Christmas morning. Milo knew that, realistically, he probably wouldn’t win this year. However, in one more throw-away shot, Milo tried one more time. By some miracle, he was up before Sweetheart was and he was able to sneak out to the kitchen to set his trap. The mistletoe went up in the doorway. He grabbed a book and his glasses, getting into position just as he heard Sweetheart shuffling down the hall.

Milo tried to act nonchalant, staring at the words in front of him but not taking them in. He wasn’t even sure what book he picked up, or what part of the story he randomly flipped to. It didn’t matter. It was just a prop.

Sweetheart shuffled past him, rubbing at their eyes. “You’re books upside down,” They commented, not looking at him.

Milo realized that, yes, the book was upside down. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. “Trying to see if there was a different meaning this way. These authors can be tricky, ya know?”

Sweetheart chuckled. “Yeah. Sure. Do you want coffee?”

Milo sighed, “Yes, please, that sounds great Sweetheart.”

Sweetheart put on the coffee pot before shuffling back over to him. They gently took the book from his hands, flipping it over. “I didn’t know you were into horror,” they commented with a wry smile, handing the book back to him.

“I find it interesting,” Milo said slowly, working the lie together as he went.

“Really? When did you get that book?”

“You know, I can’t remember exactly when. One of those things, you know? Buy it and let it sit somewhere.”

“Is that so?” Sweetheart said, trying to hide their amusement.

“Because I could have sworn that I bought that book last month.”

Milo was really fucked now, but he continued with the white lie. “Was it that? I must have forgotten. I’m reading it now, though.”

Sweetheart stifled a chuckle. “Milo, Love… when I described what was happening in that book you had a very negative reaction. Almost got physically ill. Gagged a little, even.”

Milo looked at the book in his hand, reading the title for the first time. Sweetheart was right, as usual. He particularly hated the description they gave during that one scene. He shuddered at the image it brought back—one that he suppressed after conjuring it—and sighed. “What if I wanted to give it a second chance?”

“I wouldn’t stop you, then,” Sweetheart said sincerely, “but, there’s a few things you’re failing to see here.”

They stepped closer to him, causing his heart to speed up. They always had that effect on him. Anytime they were close to him he found it hard to breathe, heart pounding in his chest. The effect they had on Milo was unmatched, and, frankly, very unfair. If he didn’t know that he had the same effect on them he’d go as far as to say it was cruel.

“First thing, you’re standing in a random doorway. You don’t like standing while reading,” Sweetheart started, tone matter of fact. Milo had to applaud the attention to detail they had, that was a small grievance he had that rarely got aired. 

“Second thing is, along with the book,” they took the book out of his hand, sliding it onto the counter, “your glasses are all kinds of messed up.” They reached up, tugging the glasses off of his face, folding the arms neatly, and placing them beside the book.

“Third thing, and I promise this is the last,” Sweetheart said, taking another step forward and splaying their hands against Milo’s sides, hands warm against his skin, pressing close. Milo had his hands on their hip without a second thought, holding them there. “I know what you’re doing,” they murmured, looking up at him, “you’re not slick, Milo Greer.”

“Who said I was trying to be?” Milo asked.

“Is this your last shot before you give up for the season?” Sweetheart teased.

“Maybe,” Milo hedged, pouting a bit.

Sweetheart laughed, hands unconsciously squeezing his side, the combination sending butterflies through his stomach. “You sure are persistent, huh?” They giggled.

“I prefer ambitious,” Milo said, “has a better ring to it.”

Sweetheart was smiling ear to ear, love written all over their face as they looked at him. Milo believed that this was the first time that he’d truly seen them stress-free in weeks. Milo felt something akin to pride swell in his chest at the thought that he was the one who got them to this point. So long as his Sweetheart was with him, he was going to do everything in his power to bring them back to a state like this every time they needed it.

“You’re cute,” Sweetheart said.

“I’m adorable,” Milo agreed. “I’m also the guy who pulled a deity like you, so that might warrant me a title a bit higher than that.”

Sweetheart looked at him for a second, head tilted a bit to the side as if contemplating something. They got a look in their eye that Milo didn’t get a proper read on before they reached up and pulled him in for a kiss. Milo let out a noise of surprise, not believing what was happening at the moment. 

He had won, then? Or had he, where Sweetheart initiated? 

He didn’t care, he decided quickly, pulling his Sweetheart closer. He couldn’t give a damn when they were pressed against them like that.

When Sweetheart pulled away they had a mischievous grin on their face. “Does winner, work?”

“So I do win?” Milo asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sweetheart shrugged, smirking. “I suppose, since, by the rules you laid out, I did fall for your evil charming ways and succumbed to my baser human instincts.”

The more that Sweetheart talked, the more Milo had to suppress his chuckles. “Your baser instincts,” Milo asked, barely keeping himself from choking on the words.

“Yes,” Sweetheart said matter of factly, “the baser instincts that hard wires people to fall for one Milo Greer at one point or another, obviously.”

“You fucking goof,” Milo said, unable to keep the laughter back. He leaned toward them again, kissing them to try and stifle it. It wasn’t wholly successful, but Milo didn’t care. “God, do I ever love you,” he whispered against their lips, earning him another smile. 

“I love you too,” Sweetheart whispered back, pushing their foreheads together. They savoured that moment with him for a moment before sighing. “Go sit down, Love. I’ll bring the coffee in a minute.”

Milo kissed their forehead, letting go of them finally. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 3: HOLLY, JOLLY

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: We do not take what Jonathan did lightly and neither does Diana.

Warnings: Bullying.

Word Count: 2122

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV

HAWKINS HIGH 

The day goes by in a blur. I don’t remember what I learned in my classes today because I can only think about Barb. If something happened to her—My body is pushed to the side and I squeak staggering on my feet. 

“Sorry!” Jonathan says, holding my arms to steady me. 

Jonathan. I forgot Mom wanted me to talk to him today. 

“It’s okay, I’m glad I found you.” I respond with a small smile. 

“Oh…” he says, fixing his buttoned shirt. 

I give Jonathan a quick once over, feeling a pit in my stomach. Jonathan looked like he was slowly spiralling. His hair was sticking out in all directions from running his hands through it too much. I know the Byers don’t have a lot of money, but they were always put together…Jonathan’s clothes looked like he threw them all haphazardly. The bags under his eyes are what stuck out to me the most. I’ve known Jonathan since we were little kids. Despite our little brothers being best friends, Jonathan and I don’t hang out one on one like Nancy and I do. The only time I have was freshman year, last year. I was his model for his photography project. We took a lot of photos at the park some regular, others with me in my pointe shoes, doing various poses and positions. The photos came out beautifully and Jonathan gave me a couple to keep for myself. Mom framed it and put it on the fireplace.

“I just wanted to know how you’re doing. I’m sorry for not checking in sooner.” I shake my head. “I didn’t know how.” 

“It’s been…rough.” He says, avoiding eye contact. “My mom isn’t doing so well.” 

“I can only imagine what you’re going through. I hope you know we’re here for you.” 

“Thanks, Diana. It means a lot.” 

I bow my head, pursing my lips. “My mom made cookies for you guys yesterday and she stopped by, but your mom wasn’t home. She left them on the porch.” 

“Oh yeah. My mom got them,” he said with a small laugh. It sounded forced. “I only had a few. They were really good. Tell your mom I said thanks…from both of us.”  I can tell it pained him to say both because they are a family of three. 

“I will.” 

Jonathan shifts from side to side. “Um, do you need a ride? I can drive you home.” 

What is it with boys offering me rides? 

“You live on the opposite side of town.” I point out. 

“I know, but I don’t mind. Really.”

I sense Jonathan doesn’t want to be alone and nod my head. “Thank you. That’s very nice of you.” 

As we approach Jonathan’s car, I am surprised to find Steve, Carol, Tommy H and another girl, who I don’t recognize standing around. I am immediately filled with dread, having spent the entire day avoiding them. Steve watches Jonathan with a scowl on his face and pushes himself off the car, walking toward us. 

“Hey, man.” He greets Jonathan. It’s as if I don’t exist. 

Jonathan swallows, eyes scanning the group. “What’s going on?” 

“Nicole here was telling us about your work.” 

“We’ve heard great things.” Carol says sarcastically. Tommy H and Nicole smile, but it looks more like a sneer. 

“Yeah, sounds cool.” Tommy H adds.

I squint not understanding what’s going on. 

“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as…connoisseurs of art.” 

Jonathan pushes pass Steve to his car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, no?” Steve asks. 

Tommy H quickly snatches Jonathan’s bag from his shoulder, throwing it to Steve who catches it with ease. Jonathan goes to Tommy H who bumps him in the chest, antagonizing him. 

“Hey!” I shout, marching to separate them. 

Tommy H stares down at me, like I’m an insect. “You hanging out with freaks and perverts now, Sinclair?” He taunts. 

I ignore him, pushing Jonathan away. Tommy H smirks at me as if he’s in on some inside joke I’m not sure about. 

“Please, give me my bag.” Jonathan stammers. Steve begins to unzip his backpack. “No just…” 

“Man, he is totally trembling.” Steve muses, “He must really have something to hide.” Steve pulls out a stack of paper. “Here we go.” 

“Let me see.” Tommy H says and Steve hands him half the stack. He’s glaring at Jonathan and I’m wondering what has him so mad. 

Tommy H flips through the paper, scowling as he goes. He looks up at Jonathan in disgust. “Dude. Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all.” 

Jonathan shifts from side to side. “I was looking for my brother.” 

It’s then I realize these are photos. Carol takes some out of Tommy H’s hand to look for herself. She pops her gum obnoxiously wearing the same disgusted look on her face. I swallow, glancing at Jonathan. He looks so uncomfortable; I fear the worse about the photos. 

“No. This is called stalking.” Steve snaps. 

“Give those back.” I demand. I don’t know what those photos are, but I don’t think it’s appropriate for everyone to be seeing, Especially if they are supposedly that bad. 

“You defending this creep?” Steve spat. 

“I’m not defending him. Just—” 

“There’s some of you too, you know.” Steve says, cutting me off. He hands me a stack of photos. 

I take the photos flipping through them. He wasn’t lying. There were photos of me by the pool while I was dancing by myself. Some with me and Barb sitting on the lawn chairs. Some of me in the Scorpion pose in front of the group. I see the grimace on Tommy H and Carol’s faces and am instantly transported to that moment last night. The feeling of embarrassment creeps up my spine. My stomach is in knots. From the corner of my eye, Jonathan is looking at me. I can’t believe he’d do this. Part of me feels betrayed and foolish. I was consoling him about his brother and he was…I rip the photos in my hands, shoving them in my bag. 

“This is so inappropriate for everyone to be looking at, don’t you think?” 

“What’s going on?” 

I turn around and see Nancy approaching us. I haven’t seen her since lunch. This day just keeps getting more and more worse. 

“Here’s the starring lady.” Tommy H announces with a smirk. 

Nancy arches her brow. “What?” 

“This creep was spying on us last night.” Carol responds, gesturing to Jonathan. She pulls a photo and hands it to Nancy. I glare at the red-head, shaking my head. “He was probably going to save this one for later.” 

Nancy takes the picture and I can tell by the look on her face and the flush in her cheeks, the photo is less than pleasant. She looks at Jonathan who avoids her stare. Steve rolls the photos in his hands. Usually, Steve is happy and aloof at school, but right now he looks menacing as he approaches Jonathan. 

“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but…” he fixes Jonathan’s shirt, wiping off imaginary dust off his shoulders. “Man, that’s the thing about perverts. It’s hardwired into them. They can’t help themselves.” Steve rips the photos in his hands, throwing them on the ground. I watch Steve walk back to Jonathan’s bag by the car. “So, we’ll just have to take away his toy.” He opens the bag pulling out Jonathan’s camera. 

“Steve.” Nancy mutters.  

Jonathan charges for Steve but is quickly pushed back by Tommy H. 

“No, please, not the camera!” 

“Tommy. Tommy.” Steve cautions. “It’s okay.” He coos, walking to Jonathan. He hands him the camera. “Here you go man.”

Jonathan goes to take it from his hand, but Steve is faster and drops the camera on the ground. My jaw drops as the lens cover pops out and bits of the camera shatters. Tommy H laughs and Steve stares at the ground. I notice he avoids looking at Jonathan. There’s a flicker of sorrow behind his eyes but it’s gone as soon as it appears. 

“Come on, let’s go. The game’s about to start.” 

Nicole follows behind Steve and Carol rips up the remaining photos dropping them on the ground in front of Jonathan. Tommy H saunters toward him. 

“Boo.” He whispers. 

Tommy H then turns to me and grins triumphantly and makes sure to brush me when he walks away. When everyone is gone, Jonathan immediately drops to the ground reaching for his camera. I drop to my knees picking up the remnants of the photos. I see bits and pieces of Nancy in what I assume is Steve’s room and clench my jaw, snatching them from the ground before they flew away. Nancy drops to the ground beside me picking up a few scraps. I assume she’s helping until Steve calls her name. She looks at me and Jonathan before apologizing. I watch her hurry to Steve and walk with him towards the school. 

I continue to pick up the photos trying my best to avoid looking at them too much just wanting to get rid of them. My eyes betray me at the sight of another photo of me dancing by the pool by myself. If the photo was taken in better circumstances, I would’ve found it pretty. I crumple the picture in my hands shaking my head. 

“Jonathan…” I groan. 

“It’s not what it looks like!” 

I stare at him in disbelief. “It doesn’t look like you’ve been taking unsolicited photos of us?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “No—” I scoff standing to my feet, walking to the nearest trash can. “Diana I can explain.” He calls from behind.  

I look back at him, feeling nothing but disappointment and anger. Anger about Nancy, Barb, Steve Tommy H, Carol, Nicole now Jonathan and these photos. I feel like everything is coming at me in all directions and I don’t know what to do.

“I was giving you my condolences for Will and you had these in your bag the entire time!” I shout, waving the scraps in my hands.  

“I’m sorry, okay!” Jonathan cries, rushing toward me. 

I scoff throwing the photos in the trash. “You developed them, Jonathan.”  That was the worst part about it. It’s one thing to take the photos, but to develop them. For what? For what reason? 

“I know, I know!” Jonathan exclaims. “I didn’t…I just…” he runs his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut. I know he feels bad, but I don’t care. 

“How long were you standing there taking photos of us? Some of these photos are of…” I look around before continuing. “Nancy taking off her shirt.” I hiss quietly at him. 

“I was looking for my brother and then I heard screaming and ran thinking it was my brother, but then I saw Tommy and Carol—”

“Oh, my god.” 

“I don’t know why I did it! There’s no excuse for it. I messed up.” 

“I am so…” I clench my hands into tight fists and squeeze my eyes shut. My chest feels tight. “Ugh.” I stomp the ground. “I can’t even think straight. You boys are so…so…stupid!” 

“I’m so sorry, Diana.” 

I open my eyes and take a deep breath finding Jonathan looking at me. I notice the bags under his eyes and how disheveled and stressed out he looks. He’s been through a lot the past few days, but it’s no excuse to do something like this. He looks down at his camera, toying with the cracked lens. For as long as I’ve known Jonathan, he’s never without his camera and now with Will gone, I know he has been more attached to it now, more than ever. 

“Let me see,” I sigh, extending my hand. Jonathan looks at me for a moment, but hands me his camera. 

I inspect the damage. It’s bad. He definitely won’t be able to use the camera anymore. Part of me thinks he deserved the confrontation, but the other part doesn’t think Stee had a right to break his camera. That was going overboard. Nonetheless…

“Steve didn’t need to break your camera to prove his point.” I begin, handing the camera back to him. “But honestly, it was justified. You invaded his privacy too, Jonathan.” 

When he doesn’t reply. I shake my head, fixing my bag on my shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I see someone coming towards us and I brace myself for round two, but when I turn, it’s Nancy. She’s speed walking and there’s a worried look on her face. Nancy touches my arm and pulls me. 

“I need you to come with me,” she whispers.

NEXT -> PART IV

[jakesuit0]

Too Young Review

“Too Young” finally follows up on the newly deaged Princess Bubblegum, something fans were dying to see after no glimpses of her in the past four episodes. This would have been a more thematically appropriate season premiere, but I do like the building anticipation for the followup. The question of how this new dynamic would alter the status quo of the series going forward hung over our heads. Turns out: not at all. At least not in an obvious way.

Even putting aside the romance aspect, it’s just great to see Finn finally hanging out with someone his own age, something we never get enough of. He’s always hanging out with his older brother, and his other best friends are hundreds of years older than him. As Finn says at the beginning, he can just be himself. I like Finn stepping out to get moral support from Jake. His encouragement of Finn’s pursuit of Bubblegum is finally appropriate! Finn is a little nervous, this is probably his first ever date. But, he is overall pretty comfortable, as there’s still a strong familiarity between Finn and PB. There’s also no pussyfooting around between the two, they are very upfront with their feelings. PB already knows how Finn feels, and she basically tells Finn that he’s hot after he drinks her serum. He admits to not bathing, so it’s a good thing that BMO gets Finn on a bathing schedule by “Holly Jolly Secrets Part 1.” It’s interesting that Finn first asks if she’s trying to make herself 18 again. Part of him thinks this is all too good to be true.  

Not really sure how much I need to introduce him, but Lemongrab! He’s probably the tenth most prominent character in the series, and one of the most well known characters, period. He wasn’t given much of a personality in the outline. Tom Herpich and especially Jesse Monyihan, the storyboarders for this episode, really created Lemongrab. They succeeded in making such a distinct character, and with Justin Roiland bringing him to life with some of the best voice acting of the series so far, he was basically guaranteed to become a recurring character. (I know there’s a massive elephant in the room that I’m avoiding, but it’s just not pertinent to this review. It will be addressed when I get to “Prismo the Wishmaster” and morals will be condemned!) Lemongrab’s very screamy, but he does it in such an alien way that he’s not annoying. He’s introduced with his iconic “unacceptable” catchphrase, which is pretty great and has been memed to death. He was originally going to be PB’s uncle (I assume it would have straight up been Gumbald, albeit in a very different incarnation, since he was mentioned in “Susan Strong”). I’m very glad they didn’t go that direction. They were dangerously close to ruining much of the direction they’ll take PB’s character in. 

Lemongrab is now technically the rightful ruler due to PB’s deaging. I assume Bubblegum created Lemongrab with the intention of wanting an heir, and that stuck in Candy Kingdom law. Similarly to my take on “Hot Diggity Doom”, I don’t think Princess Bubblegum actually cares about the legal technicality, especially since she started creating the kingdom when she was a kid. She just wanted to delay the inevitable. She might also have more respect for the rules as a less jaded thirteen year old. 

The flashback establishes that she created Lemongrab. It’s the first hint that PB created all the candy people, but it could still just be assumed that Lemongrab was an exception. The implications of PB creating life aren’t explored here, but this establishes a trait for her that will be explored a ton. We don’t know exactly when she created him, but it’s implied that it happened a long time ago, possibly hundreds of years ago. My theory is it happened before the flashbacks seen in “The Vault”. PB was used to making candy people dumb on purpose, probably straight up using dum dum juice. It’d make sense to not want her heir to be incompetent, so she’d need a different formula, especially since she isn’t using parts of the mother gum like she did with Gumbald, Lolly, and Chicle. This caused the experiment to “go wrong”. The reason I think it’s before “The Vault”, is because we see a young Peppermint Butler in it, who I don’t think was created with dum dum juice. She must have perfected the formula by then. Pep wasn’t intended to be an heir, as she’s still trying in “Goliad”, but she’ll eventually realize he fits the bill. Calling Lemongrab her “first” experiment to go wrong, is a straight up continuity error due to the Uncle Gumbald backstory. It’s also hard to believe that she didn’t have any other experiments go wrong. I think my theory could recontextualize the line to mean it’s the first one of her experiments with her new formula to go wrong, but it’s a little handwavey. As if this flashback didn’t already have enough interesting implications, we see that PB still has her memories. This raises the question of if she still has the same experiences, is her relationship with Finn still problematic? I argue that it isn’t. She behaves like a child in her new state. Her brain, just like the rest of her body, has less candy biomass, and is the brain of a child. She’s seeing her memories through the lens of a kid. 

Finn and Bonnie try to solve their problems like kids would for once, with pranks. Their relationship is so pure and adorable. Bonnie cuddling up to Finn on the castle roof is one of the most wholesome moments ever in Adventure Time and Finn looks so incredibly happy. It really captures the innocence of a young child’s first romance, and it stands apart from the awkwardness that defines his relationship with Flame Princess and the maturity that comes with his dynamic with Huntress Wizard. At the same time, Lemongrab gets more defined as he tries to laugh and have fun with the pranks after Peppermint Butler’s explanation. He wants to fit in with others, but he just doesn’t see the world in a neurotypical way, so it comes off as forced and awkward, like his bobbing head laughter.

Peppermint Butler tells Lemongrab that food comes from Mars. It’s a weird lore detail that isn’t ever explained, but is referenced again. It’d make sense for a world of talking animals and talking food to get food from an outside source, but there’s plenty of examples of them eating food from Ooo. I’ll assume that industrialized food comes from Mars, and this is considered more civilized. Lemongrab eating the spiced food is a great sequence, and causes him too much pain for him to just laugh off.

Princess Bubblegum finally decides it's time to stop delaying what she knows is inevitable: becoming 18 again. Finn’s upset, but has the ability to recognize the greater good enough to swallow those feelings. This whole experience was more of a well needed break for PB, than a true commitment to a new permanent identity, just like a later arc she’ll have. But unlike later, she doesn’t change the way she conducts her life through learning from this ordeal. Many fans don’t think this episode works with PB’s portrayal in the rest of the series, but I disagree. She sacrifices her happiness for her people, which will be explored as a character flaw later down the line that ends up backfiring for her kingdom anyway. She views having fun as something mainly for children, and work as something that must consume adults. There is no middle ground for her. The pain this causes PB just makes her double down on work as a distraction. Some of that analysis is based on future episodes, but a lot of it can be taken away from just “Too Young”. It’s great to finally get an episode that focuses on fleshing out Princess Bubblegum’s deeper feelings and motivations. It’s really the only episode in the first three seasons with that accomplishment. 

Princess Bubblegum says she needs her lab equipment to engineer more candy flesh, an even bigger hint that she created the candy people. I love the scene of her citizens giving PB parts of themselves. They recognize how selfless Bubblegum is, and sacrifice pieces of themselves like she does for them. Finn uses the power of love to catalyze the re-aging process. He gets to return Princess Bubblegum’s favor in “Mortal Folly” with the like-like sweater! It’s cheesy but it’s such a perfect resolution. Princess Bubblegum’s goodbye to Finn is heartbreaking, and it’s really tragic, especially after seeing how happy they were together. They hug and Finn has his first kiss. It’s a really special moment, and it really should be his only kiss with Princess Bubblegum. Fuck you “Wizard Battle” for taking away a little bit of what makes this moment so special and tragic. 

Bubblegum turns back and is pretty cold to Finn, but I love the contrast of her just saying “‘scuse me Finn” and how much taller she is than Finn. She’s also cold to Lemongrab, calling him a butt, which is even more problematic given the fact she’s responsible for him. The next moment is soooo important. Finn comes on to PB, which I can’t even condemn him for this time given the circumstances, and PB immediately shuts him down. She takes the crush slightly more seriously than just innocent puppy love. I love how awkward Finn asking if she wants to hug more is, really highlighting how this relationship does not work with this age difference. She responds by not humoring him finally, saying “that was like 5 years ago” and “you really gotta move on.” People have criticized Bubblegum for being too cold to Finn. I do understand calling those comments, and her joking about the situation, insensitive. It comes across to Finn like the relationship they had means nothing to her now. I really don’t think it meant nothing to her, as we’ll see by her subtle changes in behavior and a line she has in “Burning Low.”  But, I’m sure it was hurtful and confusing for Finn. I still can’t really blame PB for how she responded. She definitely could have been more sensitive about it, while still clearly turning him down. But, it’s an awkward situation. She was still trying to be kind about it, even if the joking manner came off as hurtful, and she’s very clear in her rejection which is good. She still doesn’t know the true extent of Finn’s feelings.

Season two’s cliffhanger being immediately reversed in one episode is a controversial decision. It’s the first example of one of the biggest criticisms leveled against the series, not committing to interesting status quo changes. Turning Bonnie back to 18 is a decision I 100% support. Yes, it’s sad how much of a more entertaining character young PB is compared to the regular state of her character so far. But, essentially replacing the most boring character of the main cast with an entirely different character would feel like such a lame solution to a problem the series has. Working on making her a more engaging character is the correct path. The path they take Bubblegum on is my favorite aspect of the series, so I’m glad this didn’t stick. It’s just unfortunate that it takes another season for that to happen. It makes reversing back to the status quo more questionable. Also, we can’t lose Hynden Walch! To be fair, restoring the status quo after only one episode is the aspect of this that’s more contentious. I wouldn’t have been opposed to seeing young PB in a few more episodes, but I don’t really see what more could have been done. I think “Too Young” fully explores everything interesting that can come out of this plotline: her relationship with Finn and how Princess Bubblegum acts differently at this age. This also isn’t entirely a reset. Not only does this episode color Princess Bubblegum’s character moving forward, it also sets a clear new dynamic for Finn and Bubblegum. She stops humoring his advancements (except for “Wizard Battle”, but again, fuck that episode). It’s the first of many times “everything stays, but it still changes” is applicable. We’ll see how long that ends up being a good excuse moving forward though. 

Finn calls Jake and he gives Finn some pretty bad advice if you take it as him still telling Finn to keep pursuing PB! To be fair, he doesn’t yet know that Bubblegum is an adult again. But Finn tells him that he got dumped. You could also interpret Jake’s advice as being persistent in finding love in general, not necessarily referring to Bubblegum specifically. His speech was intended to be important and to foreshadow the rest of the series, but I’m not sure if this really panned out. He does defeat a demon lord (whether it refers to Hunson, Ke-Oth, The Lich, or evil in general). Finn definitely warps through several worlds (“Puhoy”, “Crossover”, “Beyond the Grotto”, etc). Walking up the wizard steps could foreshadow Huntress Wizard, even though it’s unclear if they ever get in a committed relationship. The magic key and water world don’t really come to pass, unless you wanna say “President Porpoise is Missing!” I’m probably taking it too literally. I think it’s true meaning is to just be persistent in finding love despite all the obstacles. I think that’s what Jake’s means, so I like the speech. The episode ends with Finn looking at Bubblegum up above. It seems like Finn takes it as advice to keep pursuing PB specifically, as we see in upcoming episodes. A lot of fans took it this way, thinking Finn will just have to wait until he becomes 18 to get with PB. With him aging throughout the series, that does seem like a plausible endgame. But there’s obviously problematic implications with that. The series ends up going in a different direction and doesn’t make romance a central part of Finn’s final arc, so this speech really doesn’t end up feeling as important as it was set out to be. 

This is a really iconic episode with a super memorable story and introduction of a major character, and it’s one of my favorites so far. It’s essentially a what if scenario, the one time we see what Finn and PB could be like as a couple. The one time Finn gets to live out his greatest desire. I’m not a Fubblegum shipper, but I’m glad the shippers get this episode. Shipping them outside this episode is weird, but I’m fully on board with their relationship here. I guess I’ll end with some controversy. You can’t tell me Princess Bubblegum didn’t have real feelings for Finn in this one. I totally interpret her as bi just because of this episode. 

Grade: A

[herbalsingularitea]

Holly Jolly (Chapter 13)

Summary - So they were non-humans with pointy ears who wrapped things and sent them out into the world. They cursed in holiday themed expletives. Bernard rode a reindeer who could glide named Dancer.

The answer was indeed obvious, but she just couldn’t believe it. 

Pairing - Bernard x Female OC

Word Count - 4799

Check my pinned masterpost for ‘Bernard x Reader’ and Male OC versions!

Previous Chapter -- Next Chapter

Chapter 13 - Somebody Waits For You

Holly was shaking.

Bernard must know that she was shaking. 

He'd led her out the front door after retrieving a light cloak for each of them, claiming that the air was warmer within the barrier so heavy coats wouldn’t be needed. She hadn’t noticed before, but there was definitely a warmer, more inviting atmosphere here as opposed to the bitterly cold wind that constantly flew over the arctic tundra outside. 

He helped her into the cloak, draping it over her shoulders. She trembled under his touch, but he didn’t react. She worried what expression he was making, but couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. She hated that she might be making him sad, but really, she couldn’t help it. 

She was scared. 

The pieces were lined up in front of her and for once she had the wherewithal to try to put them together. And she was trying to, honest. But her gut was screaming at her that she needed to run, now. Whatever instinctual feeling of unease she’d had when they first met was back in full force telling her how stupid she was to ignore it and continue seeing this man. 

This man who was not a man. 

This man who was something else entirely. Something not human. 

She knew if she could just think things through, the answer would be obvious, but she just couldn’t stop shaking. Her frantic panting clouded the air and she realized belatedly that she was having a panic attack. 

“Holly.”

She jerked to awareness at the sound of her name. They were standing in front of Bernard’s house, about to head out to the lake. Hazy white obscured everything in the distance. The lights that she’d figured were from other houses were all turned off now and the only thing she could really see through the icy fog was a dip in the white horizon that she assumed was the lake. 

Bernard’s face suddenly appeared in her field of vision, looking profoundly sad. His dark eyes pulled her in, their depths familiar and warm. But the way they made her feel was too intense for her now, and she looked back at the wide white of the frozen landscape, it's sparkling maw threatening to devour her. Her vision started tunneling, black creeping into the edges. 

“You’re okay Holly. You’re safe. Just try to breathe.”

His voice was muffled and far away. 

His mouth continued to move but she couldn’t hear him anymore. The dip in the distance seemed wider now, the white expanse swallowing the horizon in a way that left her confused and disoriented. A hand swam in front of her and she tried to focus on what Bernard was saying to her. But she just couldn’t comprehend his words. The fingers on the hand uncurled more, the palm tilting towards her; she grabbed it, desperately seeking an anchor. 

Warmth came back to her slowly, traveling up her arm and into her chest. The large hand holding hers was firm but gentle, a thumb stroking back and forth over her skin in a steady rhythm.

The sound of blood rushing in her ears began to ebb, and she found that she wasn’t just holding his hand; she was also wrapped up in his embrace, his cloak enveloping her smaller body. His chin rested on the top of her head and their clasped hands were squished between them against his chest as he breathed deeply. Her own breaths matched his as her heart slowed to a steady beat once again. 

She blinked the remaining panic away and buried her face in his neck. His curls tickled her nose. 

She was starting to feel better. Confusion still muddied her thoughts, but she was coming to terms with the fact that her very dear friend was not who she thought he was. She had meant what she’d said before, she wanted to just have some fun for now and deal with this later when they weren’t expected to meet his friends—who most likely were also not human—but the initial shock of her realization couldn’t be easily pushed down. 

“I promise you’re safe, Holly. I would never hurt you,” he murmured into her hair. 

She believed him. 

She didn’t know what he was yet, but he was her friend first and foremost. She trusted him and he trusted her. 

He brought her here to meet his friends, because they meant a lot to him. And so did she, now. The weight of that was a lot heavier now, being important to someone like Bernard. She needed to take this in stride. So she would. 

Holly pulled back from his embrace and he reluctantly let go of her, watching her carefully for any more signs of distress.  But she was already forcing her thoughts and fears to the back of her mind, until her carefully constructed calm had returned to her. She was trying to put it out of mind for now and just focus on getting through the next part of their night. She heaved a great sigh, a somewhat fragile smile appearing on her lips.

She reached for one of his hands. He surrendered it to her without resistance and she entwined her fingers in his, letting their joined hands swing between them as she turned towards the lake on the horizon. 

“I think I'm okay now, Bernard," she sounded more sure than she felt. " We’re okay. Let's go.”

She pulled him forward, building her confident front back up brick by brick as she started towards the lake. The stress gradually left his body as he fell into step beside her, but he kept a careful eye on her the whole way, t heir fingers clasped tightly together in shared comfort. 

--

This was the most incredibly decorated party she had ever been to. 

A series of ice sculptures depicting figures in various loving embraces were dotted here and there around the lake. Some of those poses made Holly blush. Each one had pointed ears, she noted, but she didn’t dwell on it, instead shifting her attention to the candles set up in bunches on wooden trays or along pathways shoveled in the deep snow for easy walking. There were floodlights, but they were turned off now. However the light from the barrier and the moon shining through it were plenty of illumination. The candles cast a warm glow on several pits carved into the snow, each one with a rug laid out inside it and a table at the center. The tables were odd, though. They had a blanket skirt around them and pillows instead of seats. 

They looked cozy. 

The tinsel and arches and ribbon and lights all set up in elaborate red and gold displays were masterfully crafted. Several gold halos were stuck into the ground between the snow pits, golden fairy lights illuminating the rims while perfect red roses floated in the middle of the circle. These weren’t just decorations. They were straight up art pieces. There were just too many little details to notice them all, but the overall effect was incredibly romantic. 

She took in the long table set out with sweets and treats and finger foods of all kinds. She didn’t recognize half of the things available there, but they looked delicious nonetheless.  The drink bar for custom cocoa and cider beside it caught her eye. There were recipe suggestions up behind the bar. She was impressed with the ingenuity of the selections. 

“This is amazing, Bernard! Morozko really know how to throw a party!” 

Her companion grinned cheekily. “No one does it better.” 

“I’ll say! I don’t know where to start.” 

The sound of boots crunching through the snow drifted their way and they turned toward the sound. They were met with two beaming faces of the prettiest little women Holly had ever seen. 

And they really were little women, weren't they?

Like Bernard, they were proportioned like adults. Unlike Bernard, however, they were much shorter and slighter. If she had never met Bernard and had just passed them on the street then she might have made the assumption that they were children. However, their bone structure and mature figures showed plainly that they were not actually that young.

She knew Bernard’s distinct features quite well at this point. She was surprised she had ever mistaken him for a teenager, and had actually begun to suspect he must have a very elaborate skin care routine to look as smooth and rosy as he did. 

Of course, now those thoughts had thoroughly left her. Whatever caused his unusual otherworldly appearance was certainly not due to lotions and serums. 

Now that she had more of—whatever they were—to compare to, she was able to discern what it was exactly that set them apart in her mind. She thought Bernard had looked ethereal and lovely when she first met him. Inhuman. Which certainly made more sense now. 

All three of these beings were just too perfect. That’s what it was, really. Their faces were too smooth, too rosy, too soft. Like someone had airbrushed over their features. For humans, this sort of perfection was only found in the faces of children. Smooth as a baby’s bottom and all that. But for these people, it wasn’t youthfulness, it was just how they looked. 

They had sparkling pink cheeks and bright intelligent eyes. The way they walked was measured and smooth, almost like dancing. 

Their eyes were knowing and sharp, a disturbing feature on a face untouched by wrinkles. 

The kind smiles they flashed at her showed the barest hint of a too-pointed canine. Not that different from a human’s, but Bernard also had some unusually sharp teeth so perhaps whatever they were as a species had slightly sharper fangs than humans. Not vampiric by any means, but enough to light up that primal part of her brain again that said they were dangerous. 

What really struck her though was right there, in plain sight—little pointed ears sticking out from their hair. They didn’t even try to hide them. 

“You must be Holly! It’s so very wonderful to meet you. I’m Judy.” The shorter one said. She was dressed in red velvet and white leather, an odd combination, but maybe not that unusual considering how Bernard tended to dress. Her smooth brown hair hung loose, framing her squared face. Although they had just met, Holly could tell Judy had a sweet, serene manner about her. 

“And I’m Belle! It’s so rad to finally meet you, Holly,” the taller one said excitedly, bouncing on her toes. She wore a matching outfit with her sweetheart, the white leather standing out more against her brown skin. Her shiney hair was pulled tight into a single smooth braid that went down the length of her back. Belle seemed very energetic. 

Normally Holly would have appreciated the friendly welcome, but her recent realization had made her muted and cautious. She returned their smiles with a strained one of her own. 

“Yeah, hi! It’s nice to meet you too. Bernard’s mentioned you both a lot.”

“Good things, hopefully.” Judy remarked, shooting a sly look at the dark haired male standing in front of her. 

“Oh, yeah, for sure. All good things.” Holly shot back automatically. She struggled to think of what to say next though. Introductions and small talk were strange for her. She knew how to perform to a certain degree, but there always came that lull after the initial script where she just didn’t quite know how to break the ice. 

Luckily, Belle seemed undeterred by the awkward silence. 

“This is so exciting! We hardly ever get to meet anyone new. Have you ever been ice skating, Holly?”

“Oh! Uh, well, I guess I went a couple times when I was a kid. I fell a lot though. I’m hoping I’ll be a little better at it now.”

“You probably won’t if you haven’t done it in so long,” Belle laughed, her good natured tone not quite matching with her blunt words. “But that’s alright! I'm sure Bernard won’t mind catching you.” She waggled her brows, bright eyes sparkling in mirth. 

Bernard sputtered at that, mouth gaping a moment while he looked back and forth between Holly and the newcomers. 

“Belle,” he cried exasperated, “knock it off, will ya? Give Holly a minute to get to know you before you go saying stuff like that.”

But Holly found it funny, actually. Not enough to actually laugh, but enough to bring a genuine smile to her face. She didn’t know how to reply, but she shared a conspiratorial look with Belle who waggled her brows again. 

Judy giggled at her girlfriend’s antics. 

“We aren’t going ice skating, remember?” she nudged Belle affectionately. “We’ll be leaving soon for home. I’ve made us a nice pudding.” 

“Oh, yeah," Belle said, hand coming up to grab her chin. Then her finger jabbed up into the air as she abruptly switched gears. "Well! We can have some drinks together at least and talk, right?”

Judy nodded, smiling placatingly at her distractible partner. 

Bernard clapped his hands together once and stood a little straighter. “Okay, sounds good! Let’s get some treats and grab a kotatsu.”

He put a hand on Holly’s back and started leading her over to the food and drinks bar. Belle ran ahead excitedly, pulling a giggling Judy with her. Once they were a ways ahead, Bernard leaned over level with Holly’s ear and whispered, “You good?”

She felt a bit overwhelmed honestly. She wasn’t the greatest at social things. Bernard was kind of the exception to that. Their meeting had been a crash course in getting to know each other, so they didn’t really go through this whole song and dance. It must be jarring for him to see her so toned down and shy. 

“I’m okay, just... I don’t know. I’m not very good at this sort of thing," she muttered. At his concerned look, she perked up, quickly adding, "but they seem really nice!”

“Are you having a good time, at least?” he asked, hand returning to her back. 

“I think so. I will be. I just need to get into the groove more,” she smiled weakly.

He rubbed a reassuring hand across her upper back and she leaned into him gratefully, the warm weight grounding her. 

Once they reached the food table, they began loading up their plates with little snacks to try. Holly had already eaten, but she couldn’t resist some of the more interesting looking spreads. Bernard piled his own plate high, but that wasn’t surprising. He was always up for eating no matter how much he’d already had. Judy and Belle were sharing a plate apparently, but were also arguing about what exactly should go on it. 

“I hate those puffs!”

“So don’t eat them.”

“They’re touching my cream crackers, though!”

“What if we put the sausage between them, then?”

“Judy, that’s gross!”

“Is it? And stop yelling, I’m right here!”

“Now who’s yelling?”

They giggled together as they pushed the food around, moving down towards the drinks bar. Bernard snickered at the back and forth, shaking his head as he shared a look with Holly who was biting her lip to hold in her own laughter. 

“Why don’t they just get separate plates?”

“You’re asking me?” he said, still chuckling. 

The pair reached the drinks bar right as Judy and Belle had finished pouring theirs. 

“We’ll go set up at the kotatsu near the roses.” Judy waved with her free hand. Belle also tried waving but neither of her hands were free, one balancing their plate and the other holding her full drink which sloshed onto the snow with her enthusiastic motion. 

“Belle, be careful!”

“I’m always careful, babe!”

Holly couldn’t hold in her laugh anymore as she waved back at the little women. Bernard started fixing a cider for himself, not even glancing at the recipe cards, apparently confident in his choice of drink. Holly looked carefully at the selection before choosing to follow the recipe with the goat’s cream. She actually liked goat’s milk quite a lot but such a combination had never occurred to her.

But hey, it was a night for new adventures, so why not? 

Once they were both ready, they grabbed their plates and cups and started heading off in the direction where the other two had gone. 

“So, what’s a kotatsu?” she asked.

“It’s a Japanese table for winter. It’s got a sort of blanket that you tuck your legs under. It’s great, nice and cozy.” 

She hummed. 

“You’re doing great, by the way. I think they really like you.” He shot her a warm smile. 

“I think I like them, too! They’re funny together. Belle’s a chaotic delight.”

“She is! Don’t take anything she says too seriously, though. She can be kind of scattered sometimes, but she means well.”

They trudged over a snow drift and looked down into the valley near the foot path leading into the woods. The pine woods . 

“Holy shit, there really are trees here! I mean, I saw some at your house but those were small and decorative. This is an actual, real-life forest!”

“Told ya! And you doubted me," he smirked, nudging her arm. 

“Hey, c’mon, can you blame me? This is just one of the many impossible things that are somehow possible with you.” She nudged him back. 

“And yet you continue to doubt!” he chuckled. 

The smile slipped from her face as she was reminded of her current predicament. “Yeah… sorry, it’s just going to take some time for me to get used to all this.” She wasn’t talking about trees anymore and they both knew it. He also sobered, the grin he'd sported before shrinking into a more patient and reassuring one. 

“It’s fine, Holly Jolly. Take all the time you need. We’re still gonna talk later, right?”

“Yeah, definitely," she replied, shaking off the brief moment of solemnity. "But for now, drinks!” She held hers up in a mock cheer that he reciprocated. They bumped mugs lightly, giggling together as they both spilled some onto the white snow.  

“Over here!” Belle shouted from a pit beside the haloed roses as they made their way over. 

The area was dug out in a decently sized square, similar in dimension to Bernard’s den at his house. A blue and purple bohemian rug was placed over the dug out area with a short table at the center and candles set up in groups of three or four on metal torch stands along the edges of the pit. 

Judy and Belle were already tucked under the thick red blanket of the kotatsu, sipping their drinks and encouraging each other to try the other’s food choices. 

“The cream crackers are so good, though! Just a bite, come on.”

“If you try the puffs, then sure!”

“Blergh!”

Bernard and Holly took the remaining sides of the table, sitting on the plush pillows that were set out beside it. Bernard immediately tucked his legs under the red blanket, and Holly followed suit. 

“So, what did you guys get to drink?” Judy said, eyeing their cups. 

“Cider, of course,” Bernard quipped. 

“Of course. With cinnamon and a splash of orange, right?”

He sipped his cider with a low, “Mmhmm…” 

“Predictably Bernard,” Judy said, eyes crinkled with fondness. “What about you, Holly? Did you get cider too?”

“Ah, no, I actually got that one cocoa recipe with the goat’s cream. I don’t know, it looked interesting,” she smiled nervously, Judy returning her smile warmly. 

“That was Noel’s recipe. He’s a student of mine—all those recipes are from my students actually. I'm teaching them drinks.”

“Oh! You’re… in charge of drinks?” Holly blinked, interested. 

“Amongst other things. My department mainly deals with, well, I suppose you could call it morale. Bernard takes care of the more nitty gritty detail stuff in Operations.”

“So Bernard really is Head of Operations?”

“He’s Head of everything! He runs this place!” Belle cut in, smacking her lips after a big gulp. 

“O-oh, I see…” Holly looked nervously at Bernard, who was trying to look nonchalant as he sipped his cider. He didn’t deny what was said, though, which was telling in and of itself. 

Judy sensed the human’s unease and tried to pull focus away from the Head Elf and his role there at the North Pole. “So you’re a researcher? That must be very rewarding work.”

Holly seemed relieved at the change of subject, shoulders unwinding as she warmed her hands around her mug.

“It is, yeah! We study ecology in the arctic circle. Polar bear numbers have been on the decline and we’re trying to find out why.”

Belle seemed especially interested in this topic. “ Do you know why?”

“We think it’s probably climate change. And I know that’s not exactly a popular theory with some people—“

Bernard raised his head from his cup, shooting her a confused look. “It’s not? Why? That is the most likely reason.”

“It’s… complicated," she explained. "Some companies have their businesses tied up in using methods that further the rate of climate change, so of course, they’re not very eager to admit that what they’re doing has real negative impacts on the environment.”

He squinted at her explanation. “So, what? They’re lying about their involvement?”

“Yeah, pretty much." She shrugged. "And they’re blaming other things that are unrelated all while trying to push a disinformation campaign to confuse the public. It’s been a mess for the scientific community to try to sort out.”

Bernard scoffed, agitated. Judy tsk’d while shaking her head. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Belle cried, “surely humans aren’t falling for that!” Judy nudged her partner’s side and Belle squeaked. “Nutcrackers! I mean, uh, not humans. I mean, you are humans. But so are we?”

“It’s fine, Belle,” Bernard said, rubbing his eyes, “don’t worry about it.”

The reminder that they weren’t human wasn’t as alarming this time, probably because whatever they were didn’t seem very different from humans anyways. Judy and Belle were nice and personable. 

“Yeah, no, it’s fine really,” Holly said, “um, yeah, it’s frustrating for sure because the public does tend to fall for the disinformation. So that’s why I’m up here, basically. The best that we can do is have real recorded data to show exactly how the climate is changing and at what rate. If we can show the public hard numbers and cute footage of the wildlife that’s impacted, hopefully we can get them back on our side.” 

Bernard was smiling proudly at Holly’s declaration. “We’ve gotten some really great footage so far too. Holly caught George and Matteo’s big fight last week and we got a glimpse of Crystal recently.” 

“That’s great!” cried Belle, bouncing in her seat, “I’d love to see that footage sometime. George is my favorite.”

“Sure thing,” Holly nodded, “do you work with the bears yourself then, Belle?”

“No, I just like them. They’re pretty rad animals," Belle beamed, wiggling excitedly in her seat. "I work in wrapping.”

“Wrapping?” Holly blinked, trying to understand how that particular job could apply up there. “What do you wrap?”

Belle froze, looking at Bernard uncertainly.

“We wrap a lot of things actually," he cut in, answering smoothly for her. "Then we ship them out all over the world.”

Judy was watching Holly intently as she took this in. 

“Uh huh, okay.” A wrinkle appeared between her brows as she squinted at the other three. So they were non-humans with pointy ears who wrapped things and sent them out into the world. They cursed in holiday themed expletives. Bernard rode a reindeer who could glide named Dancer . 

The answer was indeed obvious, but she just couldn’t believe it. 

Maybe she could accept that Bernard wasn’t human. She was a scientist after all, and was never one to dismiss evidence of a new species. But this was something else. This was truly fanciful. 

What’s wrong with a bit of fancy?

Bernard’s words from days ago rang in her head. Nothing, she’d said. And there wasn’t anything wrong with it, truly. But her mind needed more time to catch up with what her heart already knew. She blinked, giving her head a little shake to clear it. 

“Well, wrapping sounds pretty interesting.”

Bernard and Judy looked as if they were holding their breath, but Belle was giggling madly, oblivious to the dilemma that Holly was struggling with. 

“No, it doesn’t!” she cried, amused. “You don’t have to pretend it does, Holly. Wrapping is fun for me, I like making the perfect little bows. But most everyone else finds it pretty mind numbing.”

“I probably would too, actually,” Holly admitted sheepishly. “But if you like it, then that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

They chatted easily for awhile, drinking slowly and ranking their favorite snacks. Belle and Holly shared a good many interests. They spoke at length about The Nightmare Before Christmas, a movie that had come out last year that they both adored. Judy said it was too scary for her, and Bernard had never seen it. Belle suggested they play it at the next movie night and invite Holly. Bernard and Judy shared a look and said they’d think about it

Conversation continued as their cups got lighter and lighter.  

“So, Holly—“ Judy said abruptly, her fingers tented in front of her face as she leaned forward, “—what’s the worst thing about Bernard?”

Said man choked on his cider at his friend’s sudden inquiry. Holly blinked at the question, unsure. 

“Wha—um, what do you mean? Bernard’s great! We make a really great team out there.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But that’s not what I’m asking.” Judy’s eyes were intense and calculating. Holly felt trapped in her gaze. “I’m asking if there’s anything that annoys you about him.”

Holly gaped, thrown off by the seriousness of the moment. Judy, noticing her reaction, softened her stare and offered a cheeky smile. “For instance, I think he works much too hard. It’s his biggest flaw, in my own opinion.”

Holly’s breath left her in a rush as the pressure receded. 

“Oh! Well, I can’t disagree with that.” She cut her eyes over to the dark haired man at her side, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable. “He showed up on my doorstep practically half dead the first week we met. I’m trying to convince him to relax more.”

“I definitely think that’s working,” Judy beamed, “I haven’t seen him this keen on non-work related recreation in years.”

“Good to know my efforts aren’t being wasted then! It’s hard to tell sometimes since he’s so on-the-go all the time,” Holly chuckled. “Honestly though, the thing that annoys me the most is how anal he is about schedules." She shot him a cheeky smirk, a hint of frustration coloring her words. "Like we can’t even hang out and eat snacks together without an itinerary, it’s ridiculous! Does he do that with you guys?”

Judy and Belle shared an amused look, peeking over at a now grumpy Bernard grumbling into his cider. 

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. But since he’s technically our boss, that makes sense. I bet that’s annoying when you don’t even work for him, though.”

“ So annoying!" Holly cried, "I call him ‘Saint Bernard’ when he gets like that since he acts all high and mighty about it. Y’know, it’s okay to let loose and have fun without a plan sometimes, right?” she poked his cheek, grinning fondly at him despite her obvious exasperation.

“Yeah, Bernard,” Judy directed her words at the man beside her, “it is okay to enjoy yourself." Her brows raised and her head tilted down as she peered up at him with an oddly significant look. "Even when it’s not in the plan.”

Bernard lifted his head to make eye contact with his friend, a heavy moment passing between them. Judy smiled warmly and Bernard looked relieved, his shoulders dropping. 

“I hate when they do that. Their weird silent communication thing. I just don’t get it,” Belle snorted. “You two wanna share with the rest of us?”

“Nope!” Judy swiftly stood, grabbing her cup and their shared plate. “Actually, it’s about time we head out, Belle.”

“What? Just like that?”

“Just like that. C’mon!” 

“I’m not even done with my drink, babe!”

Judy pulled her partner up and began leading her away. “It was so nice to meet you, Holly. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon.”

“Yeah," Holly blinked, thrown by their sudden departure, "uh, it was nice to meet you both! We should definitely do this again some time.”

“For sure!” Judy said, waving. She didn't slow their retreat however, dragging a confused Belle behind her who nonetheless waved enthusiastically as they left. 

“Bye!”

“Goodnight!”

And then they were alone. 

[hallowedheartsx]

OHHH HI RICHIE!! This is dawn btw and i saw your rb abt simon.. 👀👀 im curious to know what makes you feel so drawn towards him - mechasuit

omg hi Dawn love you so much 🩵🤍

I could write an entire essay about this man and why the heck I’m drawn to him, but I’ll go with a timeline read I guess?

in 2011 when I was just a sad 12 year old, adven.ture time was my biggest special interest, and he got introduced that year through the episode holly jolly secrets (I believe) and that’s when we found out that ice k.ing wasn’t well.. wasn’t who we thought he was. As the story writers went on to write his arc with marcy, I saw a tragic man who didn’t think he was worth anything without the magic he was given.

I had a crush on him since then, but I knew people were very weird about it still, as he was still a “creep” character at the time. I guess my heart just held on.

[deadpool-wade-wilson]

well that wasn’t very Holly and Jolly if him.

*bites the cookie that I dipped In milk*

Aww that sucks, where are you guys going?

*Knock knock*

Isn’t it a little too early for girls out cookie sales?

*goes to open the door*

[ktownshizzle]

A Christmas Encore | Part 1 of 2

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: You never thought you’d see Min Yoongi again, not in this lifetime, not in this place. He left years ago with big dreams and bigger talent, trading snow-covered Seollim Hollow for the city lights of Seoul. But now, with the cultural center—the heart of your hometown—on the verge of being sold to a soulless corporation, you’ll do anything to save it.

When Yoongi appears on your doorstep, it feels like a miracle wrapped in regret. But as the two of you work together to save the center, old promises resurface, along with feelings you thought you’d left behind. Can you trust someone who was never meant to stay? Or will you just get hurt again?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Childhood Friends to Kinda Lovers to Kinda Strangers to Friends to Lovers (WHAT?! Yeah I got dizzy too) Second chances basically, Fluff, Smut, Mild Angst, Very Hallmark

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only. Cheesy sometimes theatrical dialogue (just roll with it please), christmas cliches, virgin and vanilla sex (written in flashback scene), penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it), reader is in an FWB arrangement with a different male character, a couple of cute kisses, yoongi’s a little messy (thinks you have a boyfriend, but flirts with you anyways), lots of pining and yearning but MC is still a baddie who is fighting capitalism, Maknae line are here

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 11k (i knowww. 😬 That's why i’ve broken it in 2 parts)

✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting Date: December 28, 2024

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: Hello ho ho. We are back with another Ginger Yoongi fic, because I lub him 🧡 If you’ve read the teaser, I added one significant line here which I placed in boldface. Flashbacks are in italics. Hope you are enjoying your holidays! :)

Part One | Part Two | Masterlist

Part of A Holly, Jolly Holiday with Min Yun-Kay collab with @yooglefics

The air in Seollim Hollow’s town hall is colder than the streets outside, though snow has been falling all day. You stand stiffly in front of Mr. Choi’s desk, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you try to keep the trembling in your hands at bay. Mr. Choi, the man who holds the fate of the cultural center in his grasp, leans back in his chair, his gaze apologetic but firm.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” he says, his tone measured, almost regretful. “You have to understand, the town needs this money. We’ve been running on fumes for years, and this offer… it’s more than we could have ever hoped for.”

“Fuck money!” You slam your hand on his desk, voice thick with frustration. “You know what that center means to this town. It’s not just a building—it’s where the kids go after school, where the seniors quilt their memories together, where people connect in ways they can’t anywhere else. Without it, Seollim Hollow loses a part of itself.”

Mr. Choi’s expression softens for a moment. “I know,” he says quietly, leaning forward now, his elbows resting on the desk. “I really do. That’s why this decision wasn’t easy. But this isn’t just about sentimentality. The town’s been struggling, and we can’t keep running on good intentions alone. The offer they’ve made—it’s more money than we’ve seen in years. It’s enough to keep us afloat.”

“By selling our soul to a corporation,” you counter bitterly, your grip tightening on the edge of his desk. “By tearing apart the heart of this town.”

“It’s not personal,” he replies softly, though his tone carries the weight of his own conflict. “It’s not easy, either. I’m just trying to do what’s best for the town.”

“What if…” you blurt out, the words tumbling out before you’ve even thought them through. “What if I can find the money to match their offer? Would you give me the chance to save it?”

“Do you know how much they’re offering?”

“Tell me.”

He rattles off a number, and–shit–your heart sinks. It’s worse than you imagined, the kind of figure that feels impossible. 

Mr. Choi’s voice softens. “It’s a lot, I know. And honestly, I don’t think it’s fair to put this on you. But if you’re serious, and you think you can do it… I’ll give you two months. Two months to pull it together. If you can match the offer, I’ll bring it to the council.”

His gaze is steady, earnest. You can tell he doesn’t believe you’ll succeed, but there’s a quiet sincerity in his voice, like he wants to give you the chance, even if it’s a long shot.

You nod, jaw tight, and push away from his desk. “I’ll do it,” you say firmly, even as your stomach churns.

“The buyer’s representative will be in town soon to finalize details,” Mr. Choi says, shuffling papers. “They’ve been… persistent.” He hesitates before looking at you with a grimace. “I just hope they’re as reasonable as they seem.”

As you turn to leave, his voice stops you. “For what it’s worth,” he says softly, “I hope you succeed.”

The cultural center feels like a refuge as you step inside, shaking snow from your boots. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and make your way to the meeting room where the rest of the team is waiting.

Everyone is already bundled up in their winter layers, scarves and hats still clinging to stray flakes of snow. They sit around the table, faces ranging from cautious to hopeful. These people are the lifeblood of this place—they’ve poured countless hours into keeping the cultural center alive and making the people feel the same way through music, sports, and art.

There’s Jungkook, a pitch-perfect singer whose natural talent and boundless energy makes every day a little brighter, his enthusiasm infectious even on the hardest days.

There’s Jimin, a former ballerina whose grace and dedication to dance and sports inspire everyone to push a little harder, his charm and easy warmth a constant source of comfort.

And there’s Taehyung, an artist with a quiet yet magnetic presence, his creative soul always dreaming up murals, community projects, and ways to make the town a little more beautiful.

Oh, and between the three of them, their face card never declines. 

With their immense talent, killer looks, and hearts of gold, you couldn’t ask for a better group of soldiers to see you through this ordeal.

You take a deep breath and face them. “Alright,” you say, and your voice is steady this time. “We’ve got two months to save this place. That’s it. We need to raise enough money to match the offer from the corporation, or it’s gone. We can do this, but it’s going to take everything we’ve got.”

“How much is the offer?” Taehyung asks hesitantly.

You tell them, and a ripple of gasps moves through the room. It’s a huge number. Maybe impossible. But it’s not completely out of reach.

“We’re going to hold a benefit concert,” you say. “A big one. Something that’ll get the entire town involved. We’ll sell tickets, get sponsors, take donations—whatever it takes. This can work. It has to work.”

Ideas fly around the room. Jungkook says the children’s choir he conducts can perform. Taehyung lists a couple of local baker-artisans that can organize a bake sale, and he volunteers to start a website so they can accept online orders. There’s a spark of energy in the air, cautious but real, and it makes you feel like maybe, just maybe, this isn’t impossible.

“Do you think this will be enough?” Jimin asks as he surmises all the ideas he’s scribbled on the whiteboard.

Silence falls over the group. They’re looking at you, waiting for a solution you don’t have yet. You force a smile and say, “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

The meeting wraps up, and the others file out, leaving you alone in your office.

You stay through the night thinking of ways to make this work. You sit at your desk, scribbling a to-do list, chewing on the end of your pen. Next, you’re drawing up budgets, listing contacts. God this is a fuckin’ mess. You’ve made a promise to your team, but the cracks in it are already starting to show.

Then, you hear a shuffle of footsteps outside your office and freeze. It’s late. Too late for anyone to still be here. Shit.

You should’ve locked up when the boys left earlier. Too late now.

Your pulse kicks up as you glance at the coat rack in the corner, grabbing the old baseball bat you keep propped against it. You stand, holding the bat tightly in both hands as you approach the door.

“Hello?” you call out, trying to sound calm but firm.

The figure standing in the doorway doesn’t move. They’re tall, dressed in a black coat, with a ball cap pulled low over their face. Your heart races. An intruder? Someone sent by the corporation to intimidate you?

“Don’t fuckin’ try anything,” you say sharply, raising the bat a little higher. “My… my boyfriend’s a cop.”

The figure finally shifts, lifting their hands slightly in surrender. “Relax,” they say, their voice low and familiar. Too familiar.

You freeze. That voice is impossible to mistake.

The man reaches up and tips his cap back, revealing a face that stops you in your tracks. Min Yoongi.

Your mind scrambles to catch up. It’s him. But not exactly how you remember. His eyes are even sharper, his jawline more defined. Tufts of bright hair peaks from his cap. He’s wrapped in a black coat that fits him perfectly, the snow-dusted collar somehow making him look like he’s stepped out of a k-drama.

“What…” Your grip loosens on the bat, and it clatters to the floor. “What are you doing here?”

Yoongi’s mouth quirks into the faintest smile, the same one you’ve seen in every polaroid and Christmas card he’s sent over the years. “Hi,” he says simply, as if he hasn’t just materialized in your life after years of absence.

You stare at him, your thoughts a snowstorm. He looks good—too fuckin’ good, if you’re being honest. But he doesn’t belong here, standing in the doorway of your tiny office like he’s just another guy in town.

And yet, here he is.

(Flashback)

You’ve always known Min Yoongi. At least, that’s how it feels. He’s been part of your life for so long that imagining a version of it without him is impossible. 

Your parents had been neighbors, then friends, and you’d grown up sharing porches and bike rides and bowls of tteokguk on New Year’s morning. When you were younger, you’d bicker like siblings, but by the time you hit your teens, something had shifted—an unspoken understanding between you, like you’d been playing different roles all along and had finally settled into the right ones.

You’d always thought of Yoongi as yours, in some indefinable way. Not like a boyfriend, not like family, but something in between. 

It’s late one night when the bond between you is cemented forever.

You’re sixteen and walking home from a talent show at the community center. Snow falls in lazy flurries, clinging to your scarf and catching in Yoongi’s coat. The air smells crisp and clean, and the night feels like something out of a dream.

Yoongi’s carrying his guitar slung over his shoulder, his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. He’s quiet, still riding the high of his first-ever performance. You’d clapped so hard your palms were stinging by the end, and the memory makes you smile.

“You were good,” you tell him. “Not just ‘good for your first time,’ but, like… really good.”

He shrugs, but the tips of his nose turn red. “Yeah, okay,” he mutters, pulling his beanie lower to hide his eyes. “Thanks.”

You laugh, a puff of white in the cold air. “I am truly honored to know such the nation’s next musical superstar.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, but the corner of his mouth quirks up. You know Yoongi well enough to recognize it for what it is—real pride, buried under layers of modesty.

“You should keep doing this. You’re going to be great at it.”

Yoongi stops, turning to look at you. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are soft. “You really think that?”

“Of course,” you say without hesitation. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He glances down at the snow for a moment, his breath fogging the air. Then, quietly, he says, “If I’m serious about this, I’ll have to leave. I can’t do it here.”

The words settle heavily between you, and for a moment, you can’t find anything to say. You knew Yoongi wanted more, wanted a life bigger than Seollim Hollow could give him. But hearing him say it out loud feels different. More real. You swallow a lump in your throat.

“Not now,” he adds quickly, almost like he’s trying to reassure you. “Not yet. But someday.”

Your chest tightens, but you force a smile. “Well, when you’re famous, you better not forget me. I’ll show up in Seoul and embarrass you in front of all your fancy friends.”

That makes him laugh–his soundless shoulder chuckle you always love seeing. “Forget you? Nah, you’re too weird...”

“Promise me, then,” you say, holding out your pinky. “You’ll never forget the weird girl.”

He looks at your hand for a moment, then hooks his pinky around yours. His fingers are warm against the cold night. “Fine,” he says. “But only if you promise the same.”

“Deal.”

You’re about to let go, thinking that’s the end of it, when Yoongi glances up at the streetlamp above you. Hanging there, half-hidden by the snow, is a sprig of mistletoe.

He hesitates, his hand still holding yours, and looks at you with an unspoken question in his eyes.

Your pulse skips. For a moment, the rest of the world seems to fall away. Just you and him, standing under the mistletoe.

You nod, giving him your answer without a word.

He leans in slowly, his breath warm against your cold cheeks. His lips brush yours, soft and careful, and the moment is an ice sculpture, so fragile you’re afraid to move, afraid it might shatter.

When he pulls back, you’re both quiet, the snow falling around you like a curtain closing on a scene. Yoongi’s cheeks are pink, looking away but his lips hold the faintest of smiles.

He walks forward, glances back though he’s not quite meeting your eyes when he says, “You won’t forget that, will you?”

“Not a chance,” you say, biting your lip as you surge forward, bumping him as you walk ahead with a happiness you couldn’t quite contain.

And in that moment, you believe it. You believe you’ll carry that moment with you forever.

(End of Flashback)

Adulthood changes everything.

Yoongi leaves a few years after that night. Three to be exact. He tells you quietly one day, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cultural center’s music room, that he’s moving to Seoul to chase his dream to be a serious musician. You wish you could say you’re surprised, but you’re not. You knew he’d leave eventually. You’d prepared yourself for it.

Or at least you thought you had.

At first, you keep in touch. There are phone calls, texts, even a few visits during holidays. But slowly, inevitably, the gaps between those moments grow wider. Yoongi gets busier, and you try not to hold it against him. You hear whispers from mutual friends about how well he’s doing, about the producers and idols he’s working with. You’re proud of him. You always knew he’d be brilliant.

But sometimes, late at night, you feel the ache of his absence. You miss him. You miss the way he used to make you laugh when you were having a bad day, the way he’d quietly push his half-eaten snacks in your direction because he knew you’d forget to eat when you were stressed.

You tell yourself it’s for the best. You’ve learned that love—real love—isn’t just about wanting someone. It’s about being able to keep them. And Yoongi was never yours to keep.

Even as your lives drift apart, there’s one thing Yoongi never forgets. Every year, without fail, a postcard arrives in your mailbox a few days before Christmas.

They’re always simple—no long, heartfelt messages, just a quick note scrawled in his familiar handwriting. “Merry Christmas.” “Hope you’re doing well.” Sometimes, if he’s feeling generous, he’ll add, “I miss home.”

You keep every single one. They’re tucked in a small box under your bed, and every December, you take them out and read through them. It’s a ritual you never admit to anyone. The postcards remind you of a part of him you thought you’d lost, a thread of connection that still holds, no matter how frayed it might feel.

Sometimes you wonder what they mean to him—if he sends them out of obligation, out of nostalgia, or because he misses you in the same way you miss him. But you never ask.

You think of Yoongi as the one who got away. And you’ve made your peace with it. He deserves to chase his dreams, and you deserve a life with someone who won’t leave.

That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.

“Fuck! Don’t stop, don’t stop…”

“I’m not stopping, princess.”

The grip the man has on your waist tightens as he drives his cock to your entrance, fast and deep. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the quiet of your room, matching the beat of your headboard banging against the wall. The neighbors are gonna hate you.

“C’mon, princess, cum with me” his hand reaches forward, parting your slick folds to rub your swollen clit furiously. Shit—

“I’m almost there…” you pant.

After a particularly hard thrust, you’re moaning, and he’s groaning, and you’re both coming at the same time, bliss washing over your body in waves.

You fall flat against your pillows as he pulls out and you sigh. You really needed that release.

Minutes later, Sgt. Jung Hoseok—Seollim Hollow’s most cheerful cop and your sometimes stress relief—grins at you from the other side of your bed like you’ve just handed him the best news of the year.

“Min Yoongi’s back in town? Wowwww…” he says, dragging the words out as he stretches his arms behind his head. His grin widens when you don’t answer right away. “Is that why you called me tonight? You never initiate. Is this some kind of nervous breakdown booty call?”

You throw a pillow at him, but Hoseok just catches it, laughing so hard his shoulders shake.

“Shut up,” you mutter, but the warmth in your cheeks gives you away.

When you were in your teens, Yoongi and Hoseok were the town’s favorite duo, the cute boys everyone couldn’t help but smile at. Hoseok was the one who dragged Yoongi into b-boying, claiming they’d be unstoppable if they combined Yoongi’s rhythm with his own moves. And even though Yoongi liked to grumble about how much he hated it, he was actually pretty good—not that he’d ever admit it. Still, you knew he was way more into playing instruments than throwing himself into flips and spins.

They were total opposites—Hoseok all sunshine and endless energy, Yoongi the moody, chill counterpart—but somehow, it worked. The town loved seeing them running through the streets, jumping off ledges, or randomly breaking out into a routine just for fun. They were just two boys with way too much chemistry and rhythm to keep to themselves.

But just like you and Yoongi, he and Hoseok also drifted apart when he moved to Seoul. Hoseok took the more practical approach, used the innate energy and strength he has to keep the community safe. He followed in the footsteps of his dad and became one of the neighborhood policemen.

“Your face…” He cackles, sitting up now, bare chest gleaming in the low light of your bedroom. “Did you just realize you’re still hung up on him after all these years?”

“Yah!!!” Your stomach flips, and you hate that he’s got you pegged so easily. You mutter a feeble, “Fuck you.”

“Already did,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

The “friends with benefits” part of your relationship started casually, almost accidentally early this year, and over the past months, it became something routine. A distraction. A comfort. Nothing more, and you both liked it that way.

Except right now, Hoseok looks entirely too smug, like he knows things you haven’t admitted to yourself.

You hesitate, suddenly sheepish, and Hoseok’s sharp eyes catch it instantly. He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Well…” You pick at a loose thread on the blanket, avoiding his gaze. “I might have said something… dumb when I saw him.”

“Define dumb.”

Your cheeks burn. “I told him my boyfriend’s a cop.”

Hoseok blinks. Then he bursts out laughing, so loud and sudden it startles you. “Oh my God,” he wheezes, clutching his stomach. “You mean me? You told Yoongi I’m your boyfriend?”

“I didn’t say it was you!” you snap, throwing another pillow at him. “I just panicked, okay? He showed up out of nowhere, and I thought he was gonna murder me!”

“Yah... He’s gonna figure it out, you know. You think he’s stupid?”

You groan, pressing your hands to your face. “I don’t know, Hoseok! I was already having a bad day.”

That shuts him up for a second. Hoseok straightens, his laughter softening into something more thoughtful. He tilts his head, studying you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “You’re really messed up over this, huh?”

“No, I’m not—”

“Can’t wait to run into him soon. See how the big-shot producer’s doing,” he says.

You sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I was thinking about asking him to help with the benefit concert, actually.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to ask your childhood best friend—who also happens to be the guy you’ve been quietly pining for since forever—to save the town’s cultural center with some grand Christmas concert?” 

“You roll your eyes. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure,” he says, dragging the word out with all the disbelief he can muster. “Honestly, it sounds like the plot of a good story, and I can’t wait to read it.”

“Hoseok,” you warn, but he just chuckles, standing up and grabbing his clothes from the floor.

“Look,” he says, tugging on his jeans, “if you think you want to start something with Yoongi—like, really start something—I’m cool with calling this,” he gestures between the two of you, “off. No hard feelings. I’m not about to stand in the way of a Christmas miracle or whatever.”

You gape at him. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m serious,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head.

You shake your head, trying to play it off. “I’m not–Yoongi’s just… probably in between things. He’ll be gone again before New Year’s. I’m not counting on anything.”

“You sure about that?”

“A thousand per cent.”

“Alright,” Hoseok shrugs. “Knew you couldn’t last a week without hopping on my dick anyway…”

“Boy! If you don’t–” you throw a pillow at him, hitting him square in the face.

That makes him laugh again, his bright, warm laughter filling the room as he pulls on his jacket. “Aight, I’m just playing,” he says, still chuckling, but his tone is lighter now. “I’m out. But call me if you need me.”

As the door clicks shut behind him, you lean back against your pillows, staring at the ceiling. You know Hoseok means well, but he doesn’t get it. Yoongi was never meant to stay. He made that clear years ago, and you’ve made your peace with it. You’re not about to let yourself hope for anything more. Not this time.

Why couldn’t you just fall in love with someone like Hoseok?

The next time you see Yoongi, he looks like he’s stepped straight out of some idol photofolio.

It’s mid-morning, and you’re walking toward the café on Main Street when you spot him across the square. Shelby, the dog his mom got years ago, is tugging at her leash, bounding through the snow while Yoongi trails behind her, americano in hand. His orange hair glows against the overcast sky, a cobalt jacket pulling his frame together like he’s stepped out of an editorial.

He looks striking. Expensive. Entirely out of place in Seollim Hollow.

You don’t realize your feet are moving until you’re halfway across the street. “Yoongi!”

He looks up, pausing mid-sip of his coffee, and tilts his head slightly when he sees you. Shelby stops sniffing a patch of snow and wags her tail furiously at the attention.

“Hi Shelby!” You say, scratching the back of her ear for a few seconds before turning to the cat-like man who was looking at you amusedly. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad.”

You hum, pouting as you try to string together the words you wanted to say.

His lips form a straight line, the edges of his mouth bracketing his awkward smile.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say, willing your voice to steady. 

Yoongi’s brow lifts slightly. “What about?”

“You’re a music producer, right?”

He shrugs, “Why? What do you need…”

So you tell him your predicament. How some greedy, low-life motherfuckers want to tear down the cultural center. (His eyebrows shoot straight to his hairline when you say this, but you’re just getting warmed up.)

“Like, who even does that?” you rant. “Only the worst kind of people. The type who steal candy from babies, kick dogs—not you Shelby girl—and probably thinks pizza tastes good with pickles.” You pause, pointing at him for emphasis. “And not in the fun, quirky way either. Like, sociopath level.”

Yoongi blinks at you, clearly trying to process your spiraling rage. “So… you’re upset.”

“Fuck yeah I’m upset!” you snap, gesturing wildly. “They’re trying to destroy something important! For what? To build another strip mall no one’s going to shop at because Amazon exists? It’s evil. Straight-up Squid Games territory.”

“Is that what they’re doing with it?”

“Honestly, I don’t even know. I don’t care. They’re all the same capitalist motherfuckers in my book. But they’re not taking the beating heart of this town. Over my dead body.”

At this, Yoongi just nods slowly, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Remind me never to cross you.”

You further explain your ideas to save the town. But where he comes in is the benefit concert. You tell him you need his help in song arrangements, coordinating and coaching the performances, even performing himself, if he’s willing. You’re careful to manage your tone, to make it sound less desperate than it is. He listens, his face unreadable, but he’s probably qualifying if he can actually help you, or maybe if he even wants to.

“All the proceeds are going toward reclaiming the cultural center,” you say firmly. “If we hit our goal, we can match the corporation’s offer and keep it from being sold.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Shelby, apparently bored, starts sniffing his shoes. “I can help,” he says finally.

Your chest loosens with relief. “Seriously?”

He shrugs, lips twitching upward. “Yeah. But you’ll owe me a drink. Or dinner. Something.”

“I can do that.”

His smirk grows faintly. “So… you want me to perform too, or just help with arrangements?”

“You’d perform?”

“Depends.” He tilts his head. “How desperate are you?”

“Enough to go down on my knees.” 

His eyes are like saucers, but he keeps the rest of his face neutral. “Mm. Noted.”

Suddenly you realize what your words could’ve meant and your nervous laughter spills out before you can stop it. “I just meant I’m not too proud to beg.”

“Again, noted.”

“Shut up.”

“Didn’t think you meant anything else,” he tells you, although you can tell he’s lying by the way he’s poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue.

Just as you’re wrapping up the conversation, Yoongi glances at you, his voice shifting slightly. “Oh, I ran into your boyfriend earlier…”

You tilt your head dumbly.

“Hob-ah.”

Oh shit. Your stomach drops. “Ah, Hoseok. My boyfriend…” you quickly remember the lie, and you recover, kinda. “You did?”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone as casual as ever. “We ran into each other at the bakery. He was picking up red bean buns for his appa.”

You nod, throat dry.

Yoongi hums, sipping his coffee. “Guess nice guys really do get the girl in the end.”

Before you can even process what he just said, you hear the unmistakable voice of his eomma from across the street.

“Well,” he says, adjusting Shelby’s leash. “See ya.”

He lingers for a beat, then gives a small wave before turning to walk away. 

You stand frozen, Yoongi’s words looping through your head. You shake your head, trying to push the thought away. A pang of bitterness settles in your gut. Yoongi’s wrong. The type of guys that get the girl? The ones who stay.

When Yoongi shows up at your office the following Monday, and it takes everything in you not to gape like an idiot.

He’s wearing a black turtleneck that fits him too well, sharp and effortless in a way that makes him look untouchable. He’s leaning against your doorframe like he has nowhere else to be, a small notebook tucked under his arm, which looks just like the notebook he used to scribble lyrics in back when you were teenagers.

“You’re early,” you say, as you settle your bag on your desk.

“Well, you’re the one running the show. Figured I’d want to stay on your good side.”

You roll your eyes, “Sit. I’ll get you up to speed. And Yoongi, you’re working pro bono, you’re already on my good side.”

He grins slightly, scratching his nose as he shakes his head. It’s the same mannerism he’s had when you were young, when he’s just a tad embarrassed. You try not to be too endeared even though it’s virtually impossible.

You walk him through your plans for the benefit concert, pointing out the lineup you’ve pulled together so far. Yoongi listens quietly, his fingers drumming lightly against the edge of your desk as you speak.

“You’re really pulling this together,” he observes.

“It’s been a group effort. You should meet the maknaes, they’re the reason everything is moving so swiftly,” you say, brushing it off. “But we’re still short of a showstopper. Someone who’ll get the town buzzing.”

Yoong nods his head. “If you want I can make some phone calls, see who I can rope in from my contacts.”

“You’d do that to save the center?”

“Yeah, I’d do it for you,” he nods. “And the town.”

Your cheeks warm at his words. “Thank you. I owe you.”

He exhales softly and leans back in his chair. “I already told you, just buy me dinner once and we’ll call it even.”

You let the silence fester for a bit, but curiosity got the best of you.

“Why are you here anyway?” you ask, the words tumbling out before you can second-guess them. “Not that I don’t appreciate the help, but you kind of appeared like some apparition all of a sudden.”

Yoongi looks at you for a beat too long, like he’s debating whether to tell you the truth. Then he shrugs, eyes dropping to his notebook. “I guess I was just missing home. And eomma’s been on my case about coming back for the holidays this year, so…”

You don’t understand why he looks sus. His answer is casual, but unconvincing. You still don’t know if you’re buying it.

“Okay,” you say, because pressing him won’t get you anywhere. But as you move on to the next topic, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more he’s not telling you.

“It’s funny,” he says casually, looking around the cultural center. “I didn’t think this place would look as well as it does.”

You give him a funny look. “What do you mean?”

“I just thought it’d be more… decrepit? It’s been here since we were young.”

“You’d be surprised what this town can do when it comes together. The Kim’s donated paint one year, even did all the labor. We did a fundraiser to get new musical equipment. The maknaes did all the regrouting and retiling in the bathrooms and the pantry.”

“You’re amazing.”

“It’s all them,” you say, kicking your shoe lightly on the carpeted floor.

Yoongi smirks, “you don’t know the effect you have on people, Y/N.”

Your cheeks flush.

“They may have done the brunt work, but you’re the leader that inspired them to do it,” he says, with the confidence of someone who’s known you all his life. Even if he did disappear for years. “It’s not easy keeping things alive.”

Your heart stops for a second at his words. You know he’s just talking about the center. He’s not talking about anything else. Certainly not his unspoken feelings towards you that were obviously left in the past. So you manage a curt, “Thanks, Yoongi.”

When he comes over the next day, he’s all business. He steps into your office with his notebook and a couple of sheets of paper, saying he has ideas for the lineup.

You’re expecting something good, but what he shows you takes your breath away.

“These arrangements are perfect,” you say, flipping through the pages he’s handed you. It’s been years since you’ve seen his work up close, but the brilliance of it still stuns you. “You’re still… incredible at this, Yoongi.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are faintly pink, and the sight tugs at something deep in your chest.

“And this…” You pause at the last page. “What’s this song?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he nods toward the piano in the corner of the room. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”

You hesitate, your heart already pounding, but you follow him. He sits down on the bench, and without a word, he gestures for you to sit next to him. The space is too small. Your shoulder brushes his, and you suddenly feel nineteen again. The last time you sat beside each other in this very bench, in this very room, is still ingrained in your memory. You wonder if he even remembers.

Yoongi’s fingers press against the keys, and the first notes ring out softly, reverently. The melody is mesmerizing, weaving through the room like smoke curling through the air. You watch his hands—elegant and sure and effortless. 

And somewhere between the rise and fall of the music, you can’t stop yourself from still wondering: Why did he leave? Why did he let so much time pass without a word? And why, now that he’s back, does it feel like you can’t breathe when he’s near?

The song ends too soon, the last note lingering in the air as Yoongi turns to you. He catches you staring, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks quietly.

You swallow hard, unable to look away. “I– I don’t know.”

His gaze drops to your lips, staying there for just a moment too long. And, wait–is he leaning just a little closer?

You think he’s going to kiss you. You want him to kiss you.

But then Yoongi pulls back slightly, his expression shifting. “Hoseok’s probably waiting for you at home.”

The words douse the warmth in you like a bucket of ice cold water.

Your stomach drops, and you can’t stop the truth from falling between your lips, “No, he’s not.”

Yoongi nods once, his face unreadable again as he stands. “Still, I should go.”

You don’t stop him. You can’t. Because you have to remind yourself, he’s not here for you. You don’t even know if he wants to stay or if you could ever ask him that. If your past is an indication, Yoongi was never yours to keep and you were never enough to make him stay.

When the door closes behind him, you’re left sitting at the piano bench alone, your heart still racing and your thoughts an absolute mess.

(Flashback)

It had been a quiet winter evening, the kind of cold that numbed your cheeks and made your breath fog up in front of you. The cultural center was nearly empty, save for you and Yoongi, tucked away in the rec room where he was hunched over an old piano. The air smelled faintly of dust and wood polish, the dim lights casting long shadows across the room.

Yoongi’s fingers moved over the keys with absent precision, but the music wasn’t soft tonight. There was tension in the notes—sharp and uneven, like his thoughts were spilling out of him one chord at a time. You watched from the doorway, arms crossed, the anger in your chest building until it felt like you might burst.

“So that’s it?” you blurted out suddenly, your voice loud in the silence. “You’re just leaving?”

Yoongi’s hands stilled immediately, the final note ringing harsh and hollow before fading out. He looked up, frowning. “You knew I was leaving.”

“You didn’t say it was this soon.”

He sighed, turning back to the keys, playing a few softer notes now—like he was trying to calm both the piano and himself. “You make it sound like I’m never coming back.”

“Are you?” You stepped into the room, the accusation sharp in your tone. “Because it sure feels like you’re running, Yoongi. From this place. From… everything.”

He turned to face you fully then, his brows drawn together. “I’m not running.”

“Yes, you are!” The words came out louder than you’d intended, and Yoongi blinked, surprised at your volume. But you didn’t stop. “You’re leaving your mom, leaving me—all so you can go chase some stupid dream in the city.”

Yoongi flinched at that, his expression darkening. “It’s not stupid.”

“It feels stupid,” you shot back, your voice trembling now. “What’s wrong with staying here? With making a life here? ”

Yoongi’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with something you couldn’t quite read. “For you, maybe. But not for me.”

The words hit like a slap. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Yoongi wasn’t done.

“You don’t get it,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter but just as cutting. “You’ve never wanted to leave this place. You don’t need to look elsewhere to give your family a chance at a better life. You’re happy here, stuck in this tiny town where nothing ever changes. But that’s not me. I can’t stay.”

“Why not?” you asked, the question breaking out of you like a plea.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, exhaling harshly. “Because I want more, okay? I want… I don’t know. I wanna be rich, I wanna be me, I wanna be something.”

“And what am I?” you whispered, the words barely audible. “Am I nothing?”

Yoongi froze, his expression faltering for the first time. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But that’s what it feels like,” you said, your voice breaking as you turned away from him. “You make it sound like staying here means I’m such a loser. Like I’m not enough.”

“That’s not—”

“No.” You spun back to face him, tears pricking at your eyes. “Just go, Yoongi. Go to Seoul. Go be something, like you keep saying. I hope it’s worth it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You waited for him to say something—anything—that might fix the jagged edges of the fight, but he didn’t. He just stood there, his face unreadable, his hands hanging loosely at his sides.

That night, you toss and turn in your sheets, the ache in your chest refusing to let you sleep. The silence of the room feels heavy, the kind that makes every sound louder—the creak of the floor, the rustle of your blanket.

Then there’s a knock. A soft, deliberate rap on your window.

You sit up, heart already pounding, and there he is. His silhouette is familiar in a way that makes your throat tighten, hunching over the windowsill before he lands on your carpet with a dull thud.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, rolling on your bed to face away from him, hoping the distance might make it easier to breathe.

“I can’t go like this,” he says.

“It’s fine,” you reply quickly, your voice quieter than you meant.

“The hell it is.”

You hear the shuffle of fabric as something—probably his coat—falls to the floor. And then the mattress dips under his weight, and before you can steel yourself, warmth blooms behind you. His arms slide around you, pulling you against him with a kind of confidence that feels too natural for something you’ve never done before.

“What are you doing, Yoongi?” Your voice shakes, and you hate how it betrays you, how it cracks under the weight of the tears threatening to spill.

“Shh…” he murmurs, tucking you closer to him, his forehead pressing against the back of your head. “Don’t cry.”

Your breath hitches, and you choke out, “I hate you.” It’s a lie, of course, but your heart pounds against your chest, calling you out for it anyway.

Yoongi hums, his breath warm against your neck, and the sound is a smirk made audible. “No, you don’t.”

You roll over to face him, your vision blurry now. His face is close, closer than it’s been in years, and the glassiness of his eyes mirrors your own. There’s a sadness there, deep and heavy, that he doesn’t say out loud but you can feel pressing against you like a second heartbeat.

“It’d be a hell of a lot easier if I did,” you whisper, a tear slipping down your cheek.

Before you can process what’s happening, Yoongi leans forward and kisses it away, his lips brushing your skin so softly it makes you shiver. He pulls back, searching your face.

“Is it okay if I…” He trails off, the question hanging in the air.

You know the question. You answer without words, leaning in and closing the gap between you. Your lips slot against his, and it’s slow at first but it deepens quickly, your fingers tangling in his hair, his hands pulling you closer like you’re the one who’s skipping town.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breathing uneven. But he doesn’t stay still for long—his hands find your waist, sliding up beneath your shirt until they rest just beneath your ribs. His touch is warm, and your breath stutters in response.

“I want you,” you say softly, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his voice rough when he says, “Me too, baby. I want you so bad.”

The shirt is gone before you know it, leaving you exposed to the cool air, but the warmth of Yoongi’s touch quickly erases the chill. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips finding yours again he cups the underside of your breast and smooths a calloused thumb over a nipple. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Off,” you mumble against his mouth, tugging at his sweater. He obliges, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this—bare, unguarded.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

When he sinks into you that night, it feels like your world is spinning off its axis. The fullness, the warmth, the way his body feels against yours—it’s overwhelming in a way that makes you feel complete. His taste, his softness, his scent, you’re drowning in everything Yoongi and you’re not sure you want to resurface.

“Yoongi,” you breathe out, air sucked out of your lungs as he bottoms out.

“Shit,” he grunts, voice raw as he stares at the area where your bodies have connected. “You feel so good.”

“Baby…” you test the name on your lips, wishing this wasn’t the first, and likely last. You plant your hands on his shoulders. “Go slow.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, and he does—slow and deliberate, like he’s trying to memorize every moment, every sound, every gasp, every single feeling.

It’s a little painful at first, the stretch of his cock against your walls pulls a soft whimper from your lips. Yoongi notices immediately—of course he does. His fingers slide gently along your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his mouth finds yours. He kisses you slowly, tongue sweeping against yours in a way that steals your focus, drowning out every inconsequential ache.

Soon, there is nothing else but bliss. Pleasure has bloomed full force as he fucks into you.

His mouth moves to your neck, teeth sharp as he clamps down your soft skin, no doubt wanting to leave his mark. It’s a little cruel, you would think days after when a Yoongi-shaped hole suddenly forms in your heart, but tonight, you revel in the fact that he wants to claim you as his.

“Baby,” you plead. God, why do you sound so desperate?

Something builds and builds inside you, threatening to explode and you’re afraid, so fucking terrified that you won’t find every single piece of yourself when you shatter.

“Yoongi…” you call his name again, the storm in you gaining strength, even though the pace of his thrusts are unchanged.

“Yeah, baby?” he asks you half-heartedly, busy pushing your tits upward to capture a nipple in his mouth and sucking gently.

“Ahh, shit.” That’s nice. You love it but you need more. “Can you go faster?”

“Okay, yeah,” he adjusts his stance, slipping out of you momentarily, and you feel your juices seeping out of your cunt and onto your sheets. “Can you maybe raise your leg higher?”

You do so, holding the back of your knees, opening up to him wide and wanton, shame out the door and into the flurry of snow outside.

He lines himself up on your slick entrance, this time slipping straight inside without much resistance. He thrusts again, hitting you deeper and better at this angle.

Your eyes meet as he bucks his hips into you over and over. Your eyelids grow heavier with every passing second, but you fight to keep them open, desperate to hold onto this moment. You want to memorize him—every detail, every fleeting movement. The way his hair falls, framing those sharp, feline eyes that hold something soft beneath their intensity. The way his pink, pillowy lips part slightly, his sinful tongue skimming the corner of his mouth. He looks tender yet determined, his focus unwavering as he works to make this good for you. There’s a gentleness to it, a care that leaves your chest aching even as your body melts under his touch.

His hand makes its way down to where your sweaty bodies are linked, thumb searching your clit against your slippery folds. Has he done this before? Because how can he know that the wiggle of his single digit is enough for you to lose your goddamn mind. You want to scream, at the risk of getting caught by your eomma, but you can’t care about that right now. The pads of his thumb brushes over you, pulling a gasp from your lips as your senses blur, overwhelmed by him—his touch, his heat, the way he seems to know exactly how to unravel you.

“Take it, baby,” he urges, voices as reverent as his every movement.

Soon you’re keening at the pressure on your nub and the friction against your inner walls. Your pleasure crests without warning, body arching towards him as you ride out your orgasm.

“God you’re so tight, shit I’m about to—“

A few sloppy thrusts, a stutter in his breath and a stretched out groan. You close your eyes, every feeling increasing in intensity, and suddenly you’re empty, you hear a grunt, and his warm cum spills on your pussy lips, sliding towards your ass.

It’s messy. He’s sweaty. You’re spent.

The feeling is unfamiliar, the sensations coursing through your body strangely new. Yet, it’s the whirlwind of jumbled thoughts in your mind that unsettles you the most.

Afterward, you lie tangled together, your head resting against his chest. The weight of the moment feels too much, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out: “I wish I could keep you.”

Yoongi tenses, his hand coming up to rest against your back. “I’m sorry,” he whispers as he presses a kiss against your hair. “I’ll be back, I promise.”

The next morning, you woke to find that Yoongi was gone.

It wasn’t until two days later, when you finally found the courage to sit at the piano in the rec room, that you found the note. It was tucked carefully inside the piano bench, folded neatly and written in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting: Don’t forget.

As if you could. He’s made it impossible not to.

(End of Flashback)

It starts with a phone call from your mom. “Yang-hee invited us over for dinner tonight. Isn’t that nice?”

“Huh?”

“Dinner with Yang-hee and Yoongi,” she says, unbothered by your fake disinterest. “You’re coming too, obviously. It’s been years since we’ve all sat down together, and you know how Yang-hee is. She’s been so excited her son’s back.”

It’s not like you can say no, so you don’t.

Later that evening, you find yourself standing on the porch of the Min’s, a whole casserole of your mom’s homemade japchae in your hands. 

It’s not the same house. It’s still built on the same street, but it’s completely renovated, extended, pimped the hell out. The spoils of Yoongi’s successful career are definitely visible in the way their mansion (I guess you can’t call it a bungalow anymore) stands proud.

Yoongi opens the wide wooden door, dressed in a festive green and red Christmas sweater and white pants. His orange hair is a little messy, and he greets you with that cocky little smirk as if he doesn’t have a goofy Santa Claus headband perched on top of this head.

“Hello, Mrs. Y/L/N.” he turns to your mom, who gives him her sweetest smile. She’s always really loved him.

“How have you been, Yoongi my dear?”

“I’m doing well. You’re looking even younger than when I last saw you.”

He’s so full of shit. But your mom is none the wiser as she breezes past you both with a giggle, already chatting animatedly with Yoongi’s mother, leaving you standing in the doorway with him.

“You came,” he says, finally taking the casserole from you.

“Of course I came,” you shoot back, trying to sound unaffected. “Consider this the dinner I owe you.”

He shakes his head, “Nice try.”

“Nice headband.”

“Hoseok not coming?” he asks a little too casually as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I didn’t know the invitation was extended to him.”

He shrugs. “I don’t think eomma will mind.” Then he pauses, looking at you with something unreadable in his eyes. “I–umm. It’s nice to have you here.”

It’s so simple and yet hits like a punch to the gut. 

Dinner was sublime. The table is covered in a festive red cloth, tiny gold stars scattered across its surface. Platters of food crowd every inch—kimchi stew steaming in a clay pot, neatly sliced rolls of gimbap, and bowls of your eomma’s japchae glistening with sesame oil. A plate of sugar-dusted cookies sits at the center, shaped like Christmas trees and snowflakes. But the best part is that it feels like old times—full of laughter, familiar stories, and his mother fussing over both you and Yoongi. Your mom talks about the concert, and you catch Yoongi listening quietly, a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. There’s something grounding about being here, the four of you around the table, like no time has passed at all.

After dinner, Yoongi’s mom insists on showing your mom something in the kitchen, leaving you alone with him. 

“You still remember where my room is?” he asks behind his mug of eggnog.

“Please.” You push your chair backwards, standing up. “I practically lived here when we were kids.”

So his old room hasn’t changed much. Despite the makeover from outside, the expansion of the living room and dining areas, you guess Yoongi had asked his eomma to preserve this room like a little time capsule of sorts. The walls are still plastered with faded hip hop posters, plus an SNSD one that made you unreasonably jealous way back when. 

You point to it with a laugh. “What was your favorite line from that song?”

“Listen, boy! My first love story!” he replies without missing a beat and you both erupt into giggles.

Your eyes dart around a bit more, and you find scribbles from years ago. On the far corner, your handwriting is etched faintly into the paint, and you feel a pang of nostalgia. You step closer, brushing your fingertips over your names and the date. It was the night of your first kiss.

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, soft and steady. “Vandal.”

“You let me,” you try for casual, though your throat feels oddly tight at the memory. “I didn’t think you’d still have it here.”

He doesn’t answer, and you turn, glancing at the study desk and there’s the old notebook you gave him for his seventeenth birthday. The one you’d filled with doodles and little prompts, telling him to write music “so the world would hear it.”

“You kept this, too?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

Yoongi shrugs like it’s no big deal. “You gave it to me. Why wouldn’t I?”

Something about that makes your chest ache. You shake it off quickly, turning back to him with a small grin.

Later, the two of you end up on the porch, mugs of whisky-spiked eggnog between you, your breath clouding the cold air. You’re both a little tipsy, maybe drunk even, the edges of this nostalgic night already fuzzy around the edges.

You tilt your head toward him. “Yoongi-yah… you got a girlfriend back home?”

Yoongi glances at you, one eyebrow raised. “No.”

You’re surprised by the sharp flicker of relief in your chest. You try to play it off, swirling the cup in your hands. “Oh? Why not?”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment too long, before he finally says, “Because the girl I wanted didn’t wait for me.”

Your breath catches as he looks straight into your soul. You pull your sweater tighter against your frame. “Yoongi. You can’t say shit like that,” you admonish him, but your voice doesn’t sound as strong as you want it to. 

He says nothing, just watches you with that quiet intensity that always intrigued you. Then, slowly, he tips his chin upward.

You follow his gaze, your stomach dropping when you see it: a sprig of mistletoe dangling above you, its leaves swaying gently in the breeze. He knows it’s there—hell, he may have been the one to hang it.

Your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. Why would he even—

Yoongi grins faintly, but he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lean closer, doesn’t close the gap. He just lets the moment hang there, full of unsaid words and unanswered questions.

“What am I going to do with you…” you shake your head, admonishing him again.

“Honestly, anything you want…” He shrugs, his smirk softening into something else. “Goodnight,” he says quietly, standing up and stepping back inside the house, leaving you sitting on the porch with your thoughts spinning and your heart completely out of control.

That night, you lie in bed staring at your phone, your interactions looping in your mind.

You don’t know what you’re doing when you pull up Hoseok’s contact, but the text you send is short and simple:

You: Can we talk?

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to call back. You swipe to answer it.

“You finally breaking up with me?” he asks with a giggle.

You groan, “Stop.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. It’s been fun.”

“Yeah?”

“Best I’ve ever had.”

“Aw, quit the bullshit.” 

“It’s true!” he claims, laughing slightly. “Tell him if he doesn’t take care of you, I can literally throw his ass in the slammer. Make up some compounded traffic violation or whatever...”

You can’t help but laugh, even as your stomach twists uncomfortably.

“You’re insane,” you tell him, but you know Hoseok’s words will stay with you.

Because now you’re left with no more distractions. No more easy answers. Just the weight of Yoongi’s return and the question you’re not ready to ask yourself: what if this is finally your time?

You don’t see it happen, not all at once.

There’s no single moment where you look at Min Yoongi and realize you’re slipping back into something that feels alarmingly like love—just tiny, inconsequential moments strung together like fairy lights on the cultural center’s drafty ceiling.

Yoongi spending hours at the piano, fingers moving effortlessly over the keys as the children’s choir sings, while you sneak glances at him.

Yoongi, elbow-deep in sheet music, his sleeves pushed up, hair falling into his eyes as he concentrates.

Yoongi joking around with the maknaes like they’ve known each other all their lives.

Yoongi handing you an americano every afternoon like clockwork, his only explanation being, “You’re too grumpy without caffeine.”

It’s nothing, really. Nothing you can’t brush off.

Except when the three stooges notice and start taunting you relentlessly.

“The maknaes won’t stop teasing me,” you tell him one afternoon, watching as he scribbles something onto his notebook. “Jungkook especially.”

Yoongi doesn’t look up. “About what?”

“About you,” you say, huffing dramatically, though your heart thuds a little at admitting it out loud. “They think you—” 

Now Yoongi glances up, dark eyes fixing on you. “I what?”

You wave a hand vaguely. “You look at me.”

Yoongi blinks, clearly holding back a smirk. “I look at you?”

“They make it sound like you’re composing an epic romance ballad in your head every time you glance my way,” you say, curious to see how he’d react.

“Hmm.” Yoongi taps his pen against his notebook. His gaze doesn’t waver. “And what if I am?”

You freeze, caught entirely off guard. “You’re not.”

He shrugs lightly, looking back at his notes. “If you say so.”

And just like that, the conversation ends, but you’re left staring at the back of his head like an idiot.

You’re closing up the center after a particularly grueling rehearsal when you hear a voice in the piano room. It's Yoongi.

You pause just outside the door, catching the tail end of his conversation. His voice is low, clipped. “I already told you—it’s not that simple. Just… hold off until I figure it out, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then he sighs, frustrated. “Yes. I’ll take care of it. Don’t contact them directly.”

Before you can process the tone of his voice, he spots you in the doorway and quickly ends the call, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “Everything okay?” he asks, his expression neutral. But something in his eyes feels off.

“Hey,” you say finally, stepping into the room. “You hungry?” The words are out before you can stop them. 

“A little.”

“I still owe you dinner,” you remind him. “You want to come over?”

For a moment, Yoongi just looks at you, his expression unreadable. Then he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

At your place, you keep it simple. You’re too tired for anything elaborate, so you throw together a few bowls of rice, leftover stew, wagyu cubes you tossed in a pan, and whatever banchan you can find in your fridge. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind—he sits at your table with his sleeves rolled up, his beer bottle half-empty, watching you with a faint smile as you fuss over the food, refilling his plate once in a while.

“You don’t have to do all that,” he says. “It’s just me.”

“Don’t get spoiled,” you shoot back, setting a bowl in front of him. “This is a one-time thing.”

“Okay. I’ll take it.”

Dinner feels like something you’ve once yearned for especially during the first few years after he left. You talk about little things—how rehearsals are going, Shelby’s stubborn refusal to follow him anywhere, the little quirks of your team. Yoongi listens more than he talks, but when he speaks, it’s thoughtful, like he’s been holding the words in until they’re worth saying.

At some point, you find yourself finally telling him about the lie you blurted out the day he showed up.

“So you remember when I told you my boyfriend was a cop?” you say, poking at your rice with your chopsticks.

Yoongi’s lips twitch. “Yeah.”

“Well…” You hesitate. “This is so embarrassing.”

“Why? Didn’t realize you were dating Hoseok.”

“I’m not!” you say quickly. “I mean… Hoseok and I are… friends. But he’s not my boyfriend.”

“What’s with the pause?”

Your cheeks are on fire. You should have just kept it smooth, but your poker face is crap.

“Oooh Hoseok-ie, huh?” Yoongi’s expression is full of mischief, with a playful tone as he teases you. 

You groan, covering your face. “We just, like to keep each other company, sometimes. But not anymore. It’s over. So over.”

His eyes narrow on you, a smirk on his lips. “Okay.” He says.

You glance up, flustered. “Okay?”

To your surprise, he doesn’t push further. Instead, he studies you for a long moment, his smile softening. “I’m glad you’re not with Hoseok,” he says simply.

The words hit harder than they should. You look down at your bowl, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest.

The night you hit your first funding goal feels electric. Outside, the snow falls softly, blanketing the world in white, while the glow of Christmas lights spills through the frosted windows of the cultural center. Inside, the air hums with celebration, the kind of unrestrained joy that feels almost too big for the room.

The office is a whirlwind of holiday chaos. Jimin’s sporting a Santa hat, twirling like a figure skater in the middle of the room. Taehyung is wrapped in tinsel like a human Christmas tree, tossing candy canes to whoever will catch them. “All I Want for Christmas Is You” blares from the speakers, almost drowned out by the sound of laughter echoing through the halls. The air smells faintly of peppermint, hot chocolate, and the faint spice of cinnamon—Taehyung’s candy stash has clearly been raided, by Jungkook.

You check your laptop one last time, and there it is: the donation total, glaring on the screen like a miracle. The sight makes your stomach flip in disbelief and relief.

“Do you know what this means?” you yell, spinning in circles as Jimin grabs your hand and cheers beside you. “We might actually do this. We might actually save the center!”

“FUCK CAPITALISM!” Taehyung hollers from the corner, pumping his fist in the air, and you can’t help but laugh.

“We’re halfway there!” you add breathlessly, grinning so hard your cheeks hurt. “This is insane.”

Jungkook whoops in victory, charging across the room and tackling you and Jimin into a clumsy, giggling group hug.

Amidst the chaos, your gaze drifts toward the far end of the room. Yoongi stands by the piano, arms crossed as he leans against it, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. He doesn’t say a word, but the way his eyes meet yours sends warmth spreading through your chest, as if he’s silently celebrating right along with you.

“Be right back,” you say, slipping away from the others before you can think better of it.

Yoongi doesn’t move as you approach, but his smile lingers. “You’re happy.”

“Of course I’m happy,” you say, unable to keep the grin off your face. “We might actually do this, Yoongi.”

“I always believed in you,” he replies softly.

Before you know what you’re doing, you close the gap between you and throw your arms around him. “This is amazing!”

Yoongi lets out a startled huff of air as you collide into him, his hands instinctively finding your waist to steady you. “Careful,” he says.

Except, suddenly, you’re both off balance, and the next thing you know, you’re falling—collapsing together in an awkward heap on the office floor.

“Oh my God,” you groan, sprawled half on top of him. “Are you okay?”

Yoongi blinks up at you, his expression caught somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Fuuuuuck. My back.”

“I’m sorry–shit!” You scramble to sit up, but his hands tighten gently at your waist, holding you in place.

“Don’t move,” he says softly, eyes just opening from a grimace.

Your breath catches. The laughter dies in your throat as you realize how close you are—close enough to see the faint flush at the tips of his ears, the way his dark feline eyes are fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“Yoongi…”

You don’t know what you’re going to say, but you don’t get the chance to figure it out. Because suddenly, he leans up, closing the distance, and kisses you.

It’s a simple peck at first—chaste, like he’s testing if you’d retreat. But you don’t.

He catches the pout on your lips and smirks. This time, he fixes his grip on your waist, rolls you onto your back, positioning himself above you.

Before you can react, his lips are on yours again, slotting against your plush seamlessly like it belongs there. You kiss him back, of course you do, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sweater as the world narrows to just this—him and you.

You don’t exactly remember the feeling when you kissed for the first time in the snow-covered streets or the second in your childhood bedroom, but this third time...

It’s a feeling you don’t want to end—

But, out of nowhere, you hear unmistakable sounds of whoops and hollers and when you peel your eyes open, confetti rains down on both of you.

“What the—” you gasp, jerking back as colored paper sticks to your hair and shoulders.

Above you, the maknaes are causing a ruckus, Jungkook clutching an actual pail (like where did that even come from?), while Jimin looks dramatically at the two of you on the floor, wiping pretend tears.

Suddenly, piano music is added to the mix as Taehyung plays some Christmassy tune you can’t remember the title of because there’s just so much shit happening all at once.

You glare at them. “Yah! Get out of here! You’re ruining the moment!”

But they’re not listening, clearly high off the adrenaline from the funding milestone, but also might just be high in general, because they’re already breaking into exaggerated oohs and ahhs, chanting, “Hyung and noona sitting in a tree—”

Yoongi, to his credit, hasn’t moved. He’s still on the floor, his face redder than the poinsettias decorating the cultural center, but his eyes are locked on you. He’s embarrassed—mortified, even—but there’s a quiet determination in the way he looks at you, like nothing could shake him now.

“Jungkook-ah, Jimin-ah, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi roll calls, his voice low but firm.

The maknaes pause, mid-tease, blinking at him.

“Leave.”

Jimin smirks, nudging Jungkook. “Should we?”

Jungkook shrugs dramatically. “I mean, they’re not even getting up…”

Taehyung’s head appears between the two, his arms resting on each of their shoulders. “I think–”

You point toward the door, scowling. “GO.”

With one last round of laughter, they finally fuck off.

The silence settles quickly after they’re gone, and for a moment, all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. You glance back at Yoongi, honestly not knowing what to expect.

He’s gnawing at his lip. You reach up and touch your finger on his mouth, shaking your head so he releases his plush that’s gone red from his teeth pulling on the skin.

Finally, he speaks: “Go out with me.”

Your heart stutters, the words catching you off guard. “What?”

“You heard me,” he tilts his head. “Say yes.”

You stare at him, your pulse thrumming wildly, and there’s only one correct answer to give.

“Yes,” you whisper, your lips curving into a shy smile. “Okay.”

Yoongi exhales, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and you can’t help but notice the faint hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Well,” you say, brushing confetti off his sweater, “The maknaes were right after all.”

“Don’t even give those fuckers any credit right now.” He chuckles softly, his hand slipping into yours. “They’re lucky I didn’t throw that pail at them.”

For a moment, the two of you just sit there on the confetti-strewn floor, your hands intertwined, and it feels like this is your second chance to get it right after everything that fell apart before.

Your Christmas encore.

:)

Part Two >

A/N: Happy holidays, Yoongi's ho ho hos! How did we like this first part???

Coming in Part 2: - Why did Yoongi really come back to town? - Is Hoseok as nonchalant about calling off the arrangement as he seems?

We’ll find out soon!!! See you in the comments.

As always, thank you for reading this, you lovely, beautiful human xo Comments and Reblogs are always loved and appreciated. 🙂

Permanent Taglist (Part 1):

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

@aaclariww @mar-lo-pap @tinytan-gerine @vesperbells @butterymin

@eve1633455 @baechugff @lilkittenjenjen @wobblewobble822 @coffeedepressionsoup

@futuristicenemychaos @jadestonedaeho7 @granataepfelchen @whoa-jo @annyeongbitch7

@chimmisbae @sexytholland @idkjustlovingbts @kpophosblog @tinyelfperson

@yoongicatagenda @codeinebelle @parapiop7 @diame93 @janeelizabeth1216

@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

[lume-nosity]

spending christmas with them

characters: arataki itto, tartaglia, beidou, venti, kamisato ayaka, cyno, noelle, ei, xiao, hu tao, kazuha, tighnari, albedo

style: fluff/crack

pronouns: they/them

song inspo: holly jolly christmas - burl ives

an: fuck everything i’m feeling festive rn. i’ve written this at the start of november & i might do more of these but it’s not guaranteed unless i feel like doing more. (i can’t write for the majority of these characters because it’s my first time branching out for more characters so apologies for any ooc moments (even though i’ve specified that so many times FHWHFH))

notes: reader is gender neutral, not proofread, lowercase intended, this is in scenario/hc form, swearing, this is obviously going to be ooc & weird since i want to fuck around with the christmas prompt, not really an x reader on the last portion but reader was briefly mentioned, last portion was lazily written

you in snowball fights with itto, tartaglia, and beidou

just imagine tartaglia going ‘a perfect backdrop for bloodshed.’ this is what he was referring to.

itto’s like ‘OH HELL YEAH!!- wait- hold on- nobody’s going to be bleeding anything here. it’ll allll be just some friendly competition!’

and beidou’s like ‘ha, big guy, i’m pretty sure he didn’t mean actual bloodshed.’

while the two of them weren’t looking, you and tartaglia made some snowballs. giving each other a sneering look, before you threw your snowballs at itto and his at beidou.

itto completely flabbergasted and beidou had a scary bloodlust look on her face as she wipes the snow off of her face.

‘oh, you’re on.’

‘WHA?!- OH HO HOOO YOU’RE FUNNY. YOU GUYS ARE GOING DOWN!!’

it’ll literally be the four of you guys hurling snowballs at each other, making a loud ruckus but who cares!!

beidou with her skilled snowball throws and itto with his quick and reckless ones omg, the sheer difference

tartaglia is pretty serious in fights, even if it’s a snowball fight. any fight is fun to him yk? so expect him do tricks and shit with his throws

“say, you guys aren’t bad yourselves.”

“haha, you flatter me captain. you guys are up to par with my skills, which is impressive. and i want to see more of that.”

“uhhh is this battle talk or something??”

and then you’re just having the time of your life hurling multiple snowballs at a time towards the opposing team, laughing your ass off at the same time

venti trying to open up his gifts before it’s time but was stopped by cyno and ayaka’s a witness

imagine venti just sitting down on a chair with ayaka sitting right next to him in her own chair.

venti’s just leaning in his seat in boredom while ayaka peacefully sips her hot cocoa. until venti had the bright idea of opening their gifts early.

‘psst. hey. let’s open up our gifts before everyone else.’

ayaka, who sets her cup down and glanced towards him, ‘huh? but y/n told us to not open them yet.’

‘aw come on, it’ll be okay! look, we’ll get to be the first ones to know what we got!’

ayaka looks away for a bit before sighing and turned back to him, ‘i apologize. i cannot.’

venti pouts, and said ‘oh okay then.. your loss~’

venti jumps off of his chair to make his way towards the tree behind them as ayaka watches him. she sees him bend down to his gift, admiring it. ayaka notices a presence coming towards him. it was very hidden she couldn’t make it out to be someone. but before she tries to warn him, venti was stopped by a familiar general’s narrowed gaze.

‘what are you doing.’

‘ah, if it isn’t the general mahamatra! i wasn’t doing anything. ehe~’

‘we were specifically ordered by y/n to not open up our gifts until they say it’s okay. if you didn’t get the memo, allow me to rephrase it,’ *cue his intimidating look from his teaser* ‘in a way you’re able to understand.’

ayaka squeaked a bit by how terrifying cyno’s aura is, she made a mental note to not fuck with the mahamatra.

in conclusion, venti is done for in terms of stern lectures and ‘whatnot’ from cyno LMFAO

noelle teaching xiao and ei on how to make gingerbread houses as hu tao makes her little gingerbread haunted house in the background

ngl, noelle is more than happy and very honored to teach xiao and ei. while also shitting herself inside because she’s teaching the best of the best and she doesn’t want to mess things up

but ei would be so into it. she’ll be like ‘oh! so this piece would be here? and i can add some of these sweetish assortments to top it off?’ and noelle, who snapped out of her thoughts went: ‘ah! yes, that’s right. get the glue to your left and stick those together. you are free to apply as many sweets as you want!’ ei is probably fighting the urge to eat the gumdrops and other sweets laying around for her house tbh

xiao is just watching them at a respectable distance with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall while observing their actions. he couldn’t quite understand the concept of ‘christmas’ since he’s never celebrated it before. he didn’t want to interfere since he’s afraid of what’s to happen should he try to participate. but having to see the people he holds dear enjoying it, he’s at ease.

‘adeptus xiao, would you like to join us?’

xiao glanced at her from the sound of his name, though a bit confused as to why noelle was formal around him, so he told her: ‘just call me xiao. and no, i’m alright with only observing.’

ei turned around, with a gumdrop in her mouth, ‘you should try this festivity! it may be foreign, but i was told this is a one time thing during this time of year. so i believe it’ll be best if you’ll join us.’

xiao grimaced a bit, ‘no. didn’t you hear me the first time? i’m alright with watching you do..whatever it is that you’re doing in case one of you get injured. i must always stay vigilant, no matter the scenario.’

hu tao who paused in making her original gingerbread haunted house barged her way into the conversation and added, ‘mr. grumpy old xiao, you don’t have to always be like that! look, it’s christmas! a time where we all gather around and spend all day doing all sorts of fun activities! you just lazing about in the background, doesn’t make you fun at parties.’ she giggled a bit.

xiao, pretending he never heard of the name he was given by hu tao, groaned quietly, ‘you…’ he sighed again.

‘xiao, you don’t have to force yourself to do something you aren’t comfortable with doing, it’s okay. we can just-‘

‘i will do it.’ ‘huh?’ ‘i will do it. i will accompany you in whatever activity you call it.’

noelle and ei sighed a breath of relief as hu tao went back to what she’s doing. xiao is in for a repeat of what’s to come in the art of making a gingerbread house. no matter, as long as he’s enjoying it even if it’s far from his familiarity. none of them were aware of the tiny smile that’s growing from his lips.

albedo, kazuha, and tighnari staying up to admire the snow outside, but albedo had the bright idea that they’d all sketch out the scenery and is willing to teach them how to draw

guys listen, i want them all to interact okay

they’re all just chilling next to the fireplace in silence, looking outside your window to see snowflakes glaze the glass.

until kazuha complimented the snow because that’s just him

“wouldn’t you all agree that snow is an entranced sight to see? everything is coated in white, and the atmosphere has transfigured to peace and solitude.

while tighnari has sparkles in his eyes because he’s never seen snow like that (ahem referring to his voicelines)

“wow… snow never fails to look this eye-catching. in fact, from where i’m from, it’s always so humid. and it’d be nice to get this once in a while. not only is it a captivating sight, it’s also much cooler compared to deserts.”

albedo’s just sketching the sight in his little sketchbook you gave him as a present

‘yes. might i suggest we sketch out the scenery laying before us?”

the two glanced at albedo, both confused at the request

kazuha: “ah… i’m not particularly skilled in the art of drawing, ironic enough. i’m around the lines of an amateur artist.”

tighnari: “if you count little doodles or scribbles, then yes. otherwise.. i can’t draw.”

“that’s no problem. i’m willing to teach you, if you both are interested in the offer.”

the two looked at each other before a soft smile was plastered on both of their faces, both piqued by the offer.

“from the silence and your expressions, i’m going to assume you’re both interested.”

albedo ripped two pieces of paper out of his sketchbook and lends them both a pencil (that came from his magical pockets)

“now then, allow me to walkthrough the basics.”

imagine tighnari’s ears,, like how they perk up or do a little ‘fwip’ because of how focused he is in drawing. while kazuha is the same, with his eyes squinting and using his pencil in a gentle, and careful manner. while listening closely all at the same time.

albedo’s ‘tutoring’ voice,,, enough to make someone fall asleep on the clock

okay i’m leaving the rest up to you guys because my brain is melting (in a good way)

[foxilayde]

Imagine spending Christmas with Nathan Bateman at The Compound.

You’ve decorated the house with warm twinkle lights (“honey these are TACKY. I can program the existing house lights to any stupid color”), balsam scented candles (“why’d you get these, we’re in the middle of a FOREST, the place already smells like tree sap”), Christmas music, tinsel, an ornamented tree in the living room (“Jesus, babe what’d I say? We’re SURROUNDED by these things. Did you really have to get Dave to helicopter in a Douglas Fir from Williams Sonoma?…. Yes I know what Williams Sonoma is, it’s on the fucking credit card statement, that’s how.”) You make hot chocolate with peppermint candy canes (“do you know how much sugar is in that cup you’re sipping? No thanks.”)

He’s a bit of a Grinch. He rolls his eyes when it’s your turn to pick the movie for your movie night and you choose “Elf”. He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t touch the caramel popcorn you made either. He folds his arms and grits his teeth when you laugh and quote your favorite lines along with the movie.

When it’s his turn to choose a movie he picks The Shining.

“The fucking Shining, Nathan? The Shining??”

“What? You love The Shining!”

“Of course I love The Shining, but it’s not a Christmas movie!”

“It’s Christmas adjacent.”

“How so?!”

“There’s… snow. And family.”

“You’re absolutely right, who could forget the great heartwarming Christmas theme of chasing your child with an axe through the snow? It’s practically Rockwellian.”

“Jesus. Fine. No Kubrick. How about Die H—“

“I knew you were going to say Die Hard. Fine. Die Hard. Great compromise Nate, really. Nothing says cherishing warmth and peace like C4 down an elevator shaft.”

You fold your arms and sit back against the couch stiffly in a very Nathan-like fashion.

“There is a love b-plot with Holly.”

“I said fine, Nate. Que it up.”

You don’t get up to make the candied pecans you’d been planning on. You seethe and use your frustration to push back your tears. What a jerk.

If it’s any consolation, Nathan isn’t engrossed in the film either. He looks cold, folding his arms for warmth in his thin henley. You’d usually wrap his grumbling ass up in a fluffy blanket, kiss his cheek, and offer him some herbal tea or hot cider (to which he’d unequivocally decline and request a beer instead). But you don’t. You both sit a cushion’s distance apart, unswaddled, unsnacked, and unhappy. Nathan glances over to you about every 10 seconds, his demeanor shifting until halfway through the film he pauses John McClane and asks, “I can’t enjoy the movie when you’re acting like this.”

You tamp down the urge to screech at him like a tea kettle, and instead speak to him in a level sarcastic tone he can relate to.

“I apologize, Nathan. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to want to enjoy something with the person you love, only to have them be rude and cold. Sincerest fucking apologies.”

You don’t look at him, you wrap your arms tighter around yourself and stare at the still frame of Bruce Willis in the air shaft, feigning engrossment.

“I’ve been a dick. I’m sorry, it’s just it’s fucking Q4 and the dev team launched the latest hardware so goddamn late in the fall it’s been a—“

“I get it. I’m sorry you’re stressed. and I’m sorry for foisting all this hokey shit on you.” You gesture around the room to the twinkle lights, tinsel, tree and snowflake paraphernalia. “I should have known you were stressed about work and it wasn’t fair trying to force you to be all Holly Jolly.”

Nathan scoots closer to you and takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers when he says, “work should never be an excuse for me treating you like crap. I’ve been bonafide fucking scrooge, spitting on tiny Tim and shit.”

“Am I tiny Tim in this scenario?”

“Nah. Jacob Marley, without a dou—“

“Shut up, ass!” You shove Nathan’s shoulder and you both laugh. He brings you in for a tight hug and pulls you down to his chest for a cuddle.

“You know what I did for Christmas last year?”

“What?” You finger the texture of his cream colored Henley.

“Promise you won’t tell?”

“I think it’s pretty clearly stated in that NDA that all your intellectual property remains a secret on penalty of death? or something equally dramatic?”

“I was here. Alone. didn’t even realize it was Christmas till I tried zooming Ted about something or other and saw everyone in the office was offline. When I put two and two together I left the lab, drank about a gallon of sake and Sapporo, watched ‘Its a Wonderful Life’, and… cried.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“Awww, Nate-y poooo, everytime a bell rings an Angel ge—“

You squeal when Nathan flips you over on the couch, hovering above you, he tickles your neck aggressively with his beard as he playfully peppers the underside of your chin with kisses.

“Penalty of death, remember?”

“Your tender side is safe with me, Ebenezer.”

Nathan looks into your eyes for a few beats. Really stares into them before glancing around the room at all the warm glowing decor.

“The place looks nice.”

You smile up at him, warm happy tears pricking at the corners of your eyes when you smooth your hand down his cheek and into his soft beard.

“Thanks.”

He continues to stare at you. You suspect there’s a secret vulnerable monologue going on in his head when he stares into your eyes. things he’ll probably never say, never admit, never profess. He’s like an iceberg this one. Most would disregard him as “cold” and move on. But you know better. Even if you can’t see it , you know the depth of him beneath it all.

“Merry Christmas” you whisper

“You filthy animal!” you both say at the same time, hugging each other in a fit of mild laughter.

“Oooh Home Alone. Let’s watch that one!”

“Sounds great.”

You grab the fuzzy blanket, prep the candied pecans, and watch the film; cuddled up all cozy with Nathan as snow falls silently outside the glass walls of your glowing little sanctuary.