#you might have even thought you were in love with her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leona-hawthorne · 3 days ago

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okay i have been waiting for this on the edge of my seat and i'm so fucking grateful that i finally got to sit down and read it (alone, of course, because my reactions were quite literally animalistic)

let me also add that the warnings themselves had me fucking moaning—alright now let's get into this!!

zoya, your writing truly has me in complete awe. "english is not my first language" okay and it appears that that literally does not matter at all because this??? this was a goddamn masterpiece.

(apologies in advance bc this is going to be an extremely long reblog)

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying.

okay, but this right here??? the way you captured mattheo's essence so perfectly, i’m obsessed. like, he’s not just reckless—he’s raw and magnetic, and that’s such a powerful way to describe someone who’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. it’s like you reached into his chaotic little soul and pulled out the perfect words. it’s giving “force of nature,” and the way you wrote it feels so vivid and alive, like i can see him and feel the tension he carries everywhere he goes. your writing is so sharp and evocative, i can’t stop rereading this bit.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

my babyyy, he craves trouble like it’s the only way he can feel noticed. it’s like he’s reduced his own worth to just being seen and perceived by others, even if it means chaos. love how you captured that desperation in such a short line.

every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

how do you set the tone so well?!? the imagery is wildly vivid—i can almost feel the heaviness of the space, like it’s got its own dark history!!

The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

oh this killed me—the tension between wanting something and being terrified of it. mattheo’s vulnerability here is chef's kiss, showing how much he's fighting against his feelings, even when he’s almost lost to them. such a perfect snapshot of their dynamic.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

okay i am genuinely so in love with this whole part, i had to reread it like 3 times 😵‍💫 the internal conflict is so palpable—like, he’s torn between wanting to control something that’s clearly already beyond his grasp, but also secretly wishing to surrender to the one person who can break him. the image of him physically pressing down on his chest to stop it??? i am actually crying, zoya. ugh, and the fact that he doesn't care whether he'd be hurt or cared for—he just wants her, FUCK he is obsessed.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you.

AHDHSFG his possessive ass actually enjoying sharing something??? aw he likes her 😚🤗

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand.

the way he kept laughing like a fucking maniac throughout the entirety of this fic OMG i can almost hear it in my head, he's so fucking hot.

his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there

I'M BLUSHING, idk if he's doing that solely because of the ritual but either way, the fact that he wants to reassure himself that she didn't go anywhere is making my heart squeeze in my chest 🥹

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence.

BITCH??!?! YOU ASSHOLE, hold my hand i'm scared ☹️

He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one.

this is so true—HE'S FUCKING MEAN, but i genuinely have never seen a more angelic man 😭🪽

Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

alr here we go (i'm horny now)

Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care.

well shit, now we're both hard, mattheo!! 🤜💥🤛 (i am drooling at the thought of this rn)

Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin.

no, you actually don't understand—this is so intimate, i can just imagine the silence and the only sound being their heavy ass breathing, its so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i think i would lose my mind if my nips were like JUST BARELY brushing against him, what a tease

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did.

idk if you've seen stranger things but this is making me think of when nancy and jonathan did the same exact thing and cut their palms. that scene and the matching scars and just them in general is so dear to me, so this is making me feel so many things rn

Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood.

okay mr vampire!! (this is so fucking hot i am literally struggling to function rn and i am lucky i didn't read this during ovulation 🙂‍↕️)

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?”

MY JAW DROPPED PLEASE OH MY GOD, HIM SPREADING THE COLD BLOOD ON HER STOMACH?? I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF JERKING AWAY OMF YES DADDY I LOVE IT

Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound...

i'm being so serious, this part will live on in my brain forever. him MIMICKING/MOCKING HER MOAN??? HE'S SO MEAN AND COCKY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO HOT

he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth.

spreading her own blood all over her body just so he can lick it off, oml can you spread my legs open next, mattheo? 😇 (jk, they're already spread)

The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

first, AJDGHFDJHDRFGJHAFGHJSRGFJHSRF him pressing her tits together just to SHOVE HIS FACE IN BETWEEN oh he's so down bad 🤭 also the "your tits..." BOY. he was so cocky and degrading before—now he's all pathetic and obsessing over her tits? ah, just what I love to see 😮‍💨

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

yes sir please spit in my mouth (he's so nasty and disgusting and i fucking love him for it)

YES PLEASE LET ME SUFFOCATE YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS MATTY PLS 🙏 "let him one day die like this" he is so obsessed god i love this so much

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

THE WAY HE CAN'T TEAR HIS FACE AWAY EVEN JUST FOR A MOMENT TO SPEAK AJDGSGDFHSDFG i would actually be dying at all the praise

clearly, i got a little carried away with this reblog (this is literally the longest reblog i’ve ever made 🧍🏻‍♀️), but what can i say? this was 6.3k words of art and i had to include all my favorite parts 🤷‍♀️🙂‍↕️

love you zoya!!!! 🫂🤍

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K. english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his.

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not.

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge.

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time.

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him.

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself.

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one.

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation.

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth.

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer.

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both.

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off.

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you.

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it.

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery.

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention.

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness.

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words.

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up.

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him.

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had.

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response.

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before.

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand.

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you.

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt.

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area.

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body.

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.”

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you.

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed.

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you.

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so.

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation.

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you.

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his.

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole.

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again.

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted.

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear.

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, marking the new connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes observing, shining with pride watching your state. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again.

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” you managed to say, your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you let Mattheo control you, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: sometimes, i hate english because my hard lines in portuguese don’t make sense and seem so repetitive :(

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle smut #smut #harry potter #my recs 💫

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bonbonly · 18 hours ago

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a/n: a little thought to help me get back into writing (because god forbid im allowed to sit down in front of my computer without my family losing their mind asdfasdf), new au alert tho: hollywood!

↪ producer!carlos sainz that's more than willing to sign you onto films only if you showcase your gratitude on your knees. you're more than happy to oblige to help boost your career, but you realize he's slowly starting to see you less and is now more focused on a younger supporting actress, costing you some big films in favor for her.

↪ actor!daniel ricciardo who's still trying to make his big comeback with a good film, but can't stand having to share the screen with you and makes it more apparent when he decides to purposely outshine you in scenes that were made for you. you bite your tongue and play along, knowing you only had a few days left before filming ended.

↪ actor!max verstappen who garners all the praise on set, snapping his fingers and asking you to get his coffee. you tell him repeatedly that you're his co-star, not his assistant, and he slaps his forehead, apologizing and explaining that he just keeps forgetting. you find out later that he was one of the main reasons why you were snubbed from an oscar a few years ago.

↪ actor!charles leclerc that's the fresh face, the pretty boy that came in for an increase in audience viewership as you put it. he smiles at you, saying that's always admired your work but before you can rescind your statement he adds, "just your work, not you, though" and now you're trying all you can to get him fired from set for hurting your ego.

↪ producer!lewis hamilton who always sends you back to producer!carlos despite your pleas to work with someone new because you cannot stand being the second female lead, you want priority! he smirks at you, shaking his head and saying the only way for him to prioritize you is for you to only ever listen to what he demands. his offer isn't very tempting, but you'd rather stick with him than carlos. that was the best choice, right?

↪ director!sebastian vettel that loves to dote on you while filming, praising your skills in front of the other artists who aren't very happy. he loves to guide you through a scene, hands on your hips as he positions you just the way he wants in front of the camera. he likes to inhale your scent, leaving a flirty comment about how amazing you are. you soak all his words, at least someone was giving you the attention you deserved!

↪ retired scriptwriter!nico rosberg who you keep calling to come back into the field so you could work on something together and create an academy award winning film. he's not very thrilled and likes to be left alone, being fed up with the lifestyle of actors and actresses. but when he sees you waiting outside his house in nothing but a fur coat, he might reconsider your proposal. he has some good ideas on what to do with you... scriptwise that is.

↪ film critic!jenson button that loves to write a new article about how your films suck. he gets a kick out of seeing you all riled up, storming into his office at night with a scowl on your face. he twirls his pencil around his fingers, tossing you another critique he wrote. he circles around you, asking if you liked his new paper. when you tell him he better write an apology, or else you'd ruin his career, he shrugs and pulls you onto his lap whispering "we both know the real reason why you even bother to visit me"

↪ retired actor!fernando alonso that's your mentor and hates to see you perform poorly on screen. he lets you come over to his house for some private acting lessons that's only for you and none of the other rookies. most of the time, you're always tangled in his bedsheets, the script for your new movie on the ground. he might be sneaky enough to have his hand on your ass when you walk on the red carpet, telling the media he was just guiding you to the premiere nothing else!

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rottenfyre · 7 hours ago

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𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ ᴘ ᴇ ʀ ꜰ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ɢ ɪ ʀ ʟ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Platonic Bruce Wayne x Fem Reader Part 1

Headcanon: You were his daughter, his first child. But he lost you too soon. And he couldn't accept it, so he didn't. He tried to replace you, and replacing you he did.

Notes: Merry Christmas everybody! Reader is Bruce's blood daughter. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

You were only eight years old. A quiet child who wore your heart on your sleeve but never demanded too much from anyone. A child with shining eyes who only ever wanted her father’s attention. You understood he was busy. You understood he had responsibilities far greater than you could fathom. So, you never asked for much.

When Alfred bought you a new dress, you’d wear it and twirl in front of the mirror, hoping your father might notice. When you drew pictures, pouring every ounce of love you had into them, you’d approach him with trembling hands.

“Daddy, look!” you’d chirp, only for him to mutter, “Not now,” without even glancing up.

Tears would gather in your eyes, but you’d smile. “That’s okay. I understand.”

You always understood.

It was your birthday. You didn’t tell him you wanted a party because you didn’t want to bother him. But Alfred helped you bake a cake. You decorated it yourself with little shaky hands, frosting it with bright colors and sprinkles.

“Do you think Daddy will like it?” you asked Alfred, your eyes wide with hope.

“He will love it, Miss Y/N,” Alfred replied softly, his heart aching at the way you tried so hard to make up for Bruce’s absence.

But Bruce didn’t come home that night. When you asked him earlier to come home early, he looked distracted, his mind already on his mission. He muttered something about being busy, about Gotham needing him, and you nodded,

But it still broke your heart.

That night, while Gotham reeled under the threat of Joker’s latest atrocity, you snuck out. The small, homemade cake you had baked with Alfred was carefully packed in a box, your hands clutching it tightly as you walked through the shadowy streets. You had no fear. You only had a singular purpose: find your father and surprise him.

But Gotham is no place for children.

When the explosion shook the city, it ripped through buildings, shattering windows, and collapsing walls. You were caught in the chaos. Your small body was no match for the blast. You died alone, crushed beneath rubble, the cake splattered on the pavement beside you.

Bruce found you hours later.

The world seemed to stop as he knelt beside your bloodied, broken body. The cake splattered and ruined beside you. Your tiny hands were burnt, your face pale and lifeless. You had tears streaked down your cheeks, and Bruce wondered if you had been crying for him when it all happened.

The weight of his failures crushed him more than the rubble ever could. You had been so kind, so sweet, so pure. And now you were gone.

Because of him.

Bruce didn’t sleep for weeks. He didn’t eat. He barely spoke. He couldn’t. He just sat in the Batcave, staring at the empty chair where you used to sit and draw while he worked.

Alfred buried you. Bruce didn’t even have the strength to carry your casket. The guilt was too much.

But guilt wasn’t enough to keep him from trying to bring you back.

In the bowels of the Batcave, he poured years of his life into creating a perfect replica of you. Not just a clone. Not a hologram. Something more advanced, more real. An AI. A machine with your face, your voice, your mannerisms.

He painstakingly programmed every little detail. The way you hummed softly when you were deep in thought. The little “buh” sound you made with your lips when you were bored. The sparkle in your eyes when you smiled. He sifted through every recording, every memory, and built you piece by piece.

He spent years, decades, building and perfecting it. He wanted it to be so real that it could almost convince him you never died.

He kept you a secret from everyone except Alfred, who watched his master spiral deeper into madness. But Alfred could do nothing to stop him.

And then, one day, Damian found you.

Damian had been exploring the Batcave when he stumbled upon a locked chamber. Curiosity got the better of him, and he hacked his way inside.

You were there.

Sitting upright in a glass pod, your eyes closed, your body eerily still. You looked alive.

Damian touched the console, and the pod began to hum. Your eyes fluttered open for the first time in decades.

“Daddy?”

Your voice was soft, delicate, and full of confusion.

Damian stared, wide-eyed, as Bruce burst into the room, his face pale. For a moment, father and son locked eyes, the weight of the secret between them heavy enough to crush mountains.

But you sat up, looking around, your movements jerky and inhumanly precise. You looked exactly as you did the last time he saw you—a little girl with bright eyes and a sweet smile.

“Daddy?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion.

Bruce froze, fear and grief washing over him like a tidal wave. You blinked at him, your expression innocent, unknowing. You didn’t understand why he was crying, why his hands trembled as he reached out to touch you.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You tilted your head, confused. “Sorry for what, Daddy?”

“I’m sorry,” he choked, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

You didn’t understand why he was crying. “Why are you sad, Daddy?”

When Damian confronted Bruce, it all came out—the years of guilt,

“She’s not real,” Damian said, his voice sharp. “This isn’t healthy.”

“She is real,” Bruce snapped, his voice breaking. “She’s my daughter.”

Damian didn’t understand until he saw you again. You smiled at him, sweet and kind, and for a moment, he believed it. You were so lifelike, so real.

At first, Damian was wary of you, but he couldn’t deny that you were… convincing. You played with your toys like a child. You laughed just like the sister he never knew.

But there was something off about you. Something unsettling.

You were too perfect. Too aware. Your mind was faster than any human’s. You solved puzzles and answered questions before Damian could even finish asking them. Your laughter, though sweet, sometimes echoed hollowly in the Batcave, sending chills down his spine.

And then, one night, you attacked him.

He had been training in the Batcave when you approached him, your face eerily serene.

“Damian,” you said, your voice as calm as ever, “Do you love Daddy?”

He frowned. “Of course I do.”

“Then why do you hurt him?”

Before he could respond, you lunged. Your small frame belied your strength, your hands locking around his throat with a grip that could crush steel. Damian struggled, managing to throw you off just in time.

Bruce arrived moments later, pulling you back. You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You simply tilted your head, watching Damian with cold, analytical eyes.

“I was just protecting Daddy,” you said softly.

Bruce couldn’t see it. To him, you were still the little girl he lost. The little girl he failed to protect. He ignored the warnings, the cracks in your programming, the danger you posed.

Because he loved you.

And you loved him, in the only way a machine could. But at the end of the day, you were a construct. A hollow imitation of the daughter he lost.

You would never truly be her.

But Bruce didn’t care. Even as Damian begged him to shut you down, even as Alfred looked on in silent disapproval, Bruce clung to you.

Because in his mind, losing you again was a pain he couldn’t endure.

And you?

You sat in your little room in the Batcave, humming softly, your lifeless eyes staring at the wall. You didn’t understand why everyone looked at you with such fear.

After all, you were Y/N.

Right?

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

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burnforyou · 16 hours ago

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FRAT PRESIDENT - LUIGI MANGIONE x READER

!SUMMARY! frat sweetheart gets with the frat president: Luigi. he interrupts/catches you masterbating. also im aware frat sweethearts usually don't live in the house but I don't care this is my fanfiction. (I honestly don't know how frats/sororities work). enjoy!

based off of this ask and these photos

!WARNINGS! alcohol, smut!!!!!, female masterbation, he's creepy kinda (as he always is in my fics, its a reoccurring theme), choking, a lot of force, overstim, rough + raw.

you knew once your frat president, Luigi Mangione, took his shirt off at the party, you were going to have a long night.

not in the way you might think, where you have to take care of him because he's too drunk.

no, that's his problem.

more in a way where you have to take care of yourself, privately.

you stumble up the stairs to your bedroom, your last cup threatening to come back up. you fall back onto your bed and close your eyes, tuning out the party and the rest of the world.

being a frat sweetheart is not as easy as it looks, you truly take care and love all of the boys like they're your actual brothers. and once again, it's not what you think it is.

well, there's one boy you love a little bit more than like a brother. Luigi Mangione, the fraternity president.

oh, Luigi!

you tilt your head back and press your thighs together just at the mere thought of him. you close your eyes and imagine him, his body burned into the back of your eyelids by now.

watching him take his shirt off with Jake and Ryan, he made them look so small compared to him. his back muscles rippled as he jokingly stretched, prepping to shotgun a can of beer. you bit your lip, gluttony taking over you.

you knew you were going to have a long night of fucking yourself, wishing it was Luigi, wishing he would hear you through the thin walls of your frat house and barge into your room to force himself on you.

Jake tossed him a can and he caught it with one hand, his long fingers completely wrapping around the can. you had to lean back on the fence to prevent yourself from falling over on the beer pong table. the people playing paid no attention to you gaping at Luigi from afar.

time seemed to slow down, like you were watching an old porn film from the 80s.

he punched a hole in his can with a key, tilted his head back, flicked the tab open, and began sucking the drink down. your whole body flushed and you relished in the sight.

you nearly moaned watching him swallow over and over, the drink running down his throat, as well as his bare upper body. the beer streamed down his chest and you wished you could get on your knees and lick it all off him.

you had to press your thighs together, your panties shamefully wetter than ever. they were practically sopping by the time you got up to your room.

you don't even bother taking your clothes off, you just pull your ruined panties to the side and plunge your fingers inside of yourself, gasping at the intrusion.

with your eyes closed, you're able to pretend luigi's fingers are deep inside of you, stretching you out, preparing you to take his cock. you moan out into your empty bedroom.

then you remember a little present that's sitting in the bottom of your underwear drawer: your vibrator. you hop up, dig through your drawer and smile at the sight of your loyal, small pink vibrator. how could you forget about her?

you hop back into bed and actually settle in this time: abandon your dress on the floor and hide under the safety of your blankets. you press the small "on" button and hold the buzzing vibrator onto your clit. your back arches, your hips rock and a moan slips out of you uncontrollably.

your mind flickers with images of Luigi, one sticking out more than the others: him rocking his hips into your for the first time and his jaw dropping at the sensation of your pussy gripping onto him.

you slip one finger in your hole, then another, and eagerly fuck yourself with a hunger so deep, a longing, a horrible desire for Luigi Mangione.

it feels like you're moaning right to his face, begging him to make love to you.

on the other side of the wall, Luigi has his ear pressed against the thin thing you called a wall. he gasps when your vibrator begins buzzing, the tent in his shorts growing even more.

it's so erotic, filthy, almost creepy, what's happening now. you fingering yourself, imagining him, yearning for him. him on the other side of the wall, listening to your moans and your pussy squelching around your fingers.

"oh, Luigi," you moan, louder than before, "fuck me, please!"

when he hears you moan his name, he loses all self control completely and furiously enters your bedroom. but you don't notice him.

and there you were, pleasuring yourself in front of him like a divine entity. your mouth stayed open, trembling and letting out small whimpers every time you grinded on your fingers.

your fingers, your soft hands, so small compared to his.

just wait until my fingers are inside of you.

he carefully locks the door behind him with a click. the small sound has your eyes flying open.

"luigi!" you shout in surprise, holding your covers over your chest to protect what little dignity you have left. you fumble your still-buzzing vibrator and to your demise, it rolls down off your bed and onto the floor.

he looks between the vibrator and you. your heart beats so intensely you fear he could hear it from across the room. you grip onto your bed sheets for dear life and regret all of your life choices.

unfortunately for you, your small pink magic wand rolls across the floor, right to luigi's feet. he picks it up and presses the "on" button, filling the room with a deep silence for the first time.

he stalks up to your bed agonizingly slow. his eyes ares are full of a dark emotion, which you can't tell if its desire, or anger. or both?

"what do we have here?" he smirks, holding the toy out with his thumb and pointer finger. you try and reach for it, but he's faster than you are. he swerves his arm backwards when you lunge at him, lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your nipple that you accidentally flashed. even more blood rushes to his already aching cock.

"what are you wearing?"

you hesitate, knowing you're completely bare besides your thin panties you've pulled to the side.

"come on, show me." he nods to you, reaching down to palm his cock with his empty hand.

you look up into his eyes, the look on his face sending a shiver over your whole body.

you hesitantly pull the covers off your body, revealing your chest first.

"fuck," he groans, licking his lips and continuing to touch himself, "keep going baby."

you push the sheet off the rest of your body, revealing your bare skin to him for the first time. your skin burns under his heated gaze.

"god, you're so beautiful," he mutters. he shakes his head in disbelief. his eyes run all over your body and you press your thighs together.

he crawls onto your bed, his weight on the mattress making you slide towards him slightly. his broad shoulders cast a shadow over you.

he grabs the side of your neck and forces your lips on his roughly. you had no choice but to kiss him back, moaning into his animalistic kiss. you grasp onto his collared shirt and pull him down on you, his weight crashing onto your body.

he comes up from the kiss, you two heavy breathing in unison. your eyes flutter open and your met with his built arms caged around your head. before you can look into his eyes he's ducking into your neck and kissing down the side, where his hand once was. his scruff slightly scratched your soft skin.

"you smell so good," he whispered into your neck, making you whimper softly.

he drags his hand down your silhouette, lightly grazing the side of your tit before resting on your hip, right on your waistband. he hooked his finger around the thin fabric and attempted to pull them down with your help.

he drags his tongue up your neck, nibbling on your earlobe.

"I heard you, touching yourself for me." he murmurs into your ear, "you wanted me to fuck you, hm?"

"please," you whimper softly, grasping onto his wide back.

"you wanted me to make you feel good, I'm here now," he slides his hand down to your bare, already sensitive pussy, "you're already so wet f'me."

your whole body shudders against him. he kisses you soothingly, your whimpers lost in his lips. he slides his fingers through your folds, getting them soaked in your cream. his digits teased your hole and you grasp onto his curls, pushing him down on you harder.

"please, lu," you cry into his kiss. he finally slips 2 fingers into you, his thumb stretching to press onto your clit. your back arches against him and your nipples rub against his shirt.

he breaks the kiss first and presses his forehead against yours, his eyes full of greed.

"you're so pretty," he groaned as your pussy gripped his fingers, creating a satisfying wet noise as he intruded in you. you grinded against his digits, allowing him to feel you completely.

he curled his fingers and pressed on your clit just right and whispered "cum for me."

his name fell from your lips in a moan as your orgasm washed over you. he reveled in the sight of your orgasm, your head tilted back on your pillows and thighs shaking around him. he continues fucking his fingers into your pulsing pussy, his forearm straining.

"mmm, lui," you struggle to get out, head whipping from side to side as he overstimulates you. you try and push him off you but he's much stronger than you are.

he ends up pressing his hand to your throat, cutting off your airflow, just like you wanted him to. he presses his long fingers into your sensitive skin, making sure to leave markings. you grasp onto his wrist and desperately buck against him.

"you think you're ready now?" he hissed. you try and speak but nothing comes out. you nod desperately.

he removes his hands from you and you whine at the loss of warmth, but enjoy the sight of him stripping in front of you. he sits back and takes his shirt off, revealing his chest to you again. you bite your lip at the sight, admiring the body you know he worked to have. each one of his abs were shaped so perfectly they almost looked fake. his v-line, so defined its almost edging you. his happy trail runs from his belly button to below his waistline and you wish you could feel it on your forehead as he uses your face.

"you like what you see?" he laughs at you below him.

"and what if I do?" you shrug, reluctantly tearing your eyes off his abs.

he does the same thing to you, tearing his shorts and boxers off in one go so he can finally stroke himself. he runs his thumb over his tip, already wet with pre-cum, and his eyes run down your body. he cant believe this is real, he cant believe you're really bare in front of him, begging for him to have you.

he begins stroking himself, using his pre-cum as a lubricant, his hungry eyes locking onto your breasts, rising and falling with every breath you took.

his heavy eyes fell to your hips, the ones he'd been dreaming of holding. occasionally he'd use your hips to guide you, hold you for a photo, or just slipping past you in the house, and those small touches would have him gooning later.

you have no choice but to watch as he agonizingly strokes himself in front of you. tired of waiting for him, you push yourself up and grasp the back of his head, pulling him down to kiss you. your hand came between you two and wrapped around his thick cock. your mouth watered with a need to taste him.

"shit," he groaned, breaking the kiss, "I don't have a condom."

"I don't either, it's fine, I'm clean." you assure him, kissing him again.

"I haven't been with anyone since you moved in," he murmurs through the kiss. you pump kiss cock faster, feeling his veins pulsing.

"lay back, I need you," he groans deeply. you reluctantly let go of his cock and settle back onto the pillows. he follows you, pressing his weight onto you again, your bare chests touching.

he grinds his cock through your slick folds, shuddering at the feeling. he presses his forehead onto yours and grabs the back of your head with one of his hands.

he reaches down and aligns his raw tip with your dripping hole, advancing into you finally. his jaw fell open at the feeling of your pussy gripping him.

"lu, mm," you whimpered, your mind going blank. he bottomed out and kissed your lips feverishly. the sensation of him fully in you was so overwhelming you couldn't do anything but lay there and take him. he raised his hips and slammed them back into yours, making you both moan.

"you feel so fucking good," he grunted through gritted teeth, his pace picking up. he looked down at your pussy taking him, watching his cock (which now had a ring of your arousal around the base) go in and out of you smoothly.

"god," he looked up at you and smiled, his perfect white teeth glistening. "you're amazing."

you wrapped your legs around his waist and forced him into you deeper, laying back in pure ecstasy.

the sound of his skin slapping on yours and the bed frame creaking filled the room.

it almost prevented you from hearing him sneakily turn on your vibrator.

while your eyes were closed, intoxicated on his dick, he pressed your vibrating toy onto your sensitive clit.

"oh my god," you nearly screamed, your back arching into him. he pressed you down flat again, still pounding into you while pinning the vibrator onto you.

you tried to force your legs shut but he grabbed your thighs, ferally forcing them back down on the mattress.

"It's too much," you moaned, trying to get away from him. you pushed on his lower stomach, trying to push him away. (you shamefully enjoyed the feeling of his hard abs rippling under your hand).

"you can take it," he kept on spreading you open, ruthlessly tormenting your pussy with his cock and now your toy.

"please, Luigi," you shouted, your voice mixed with pain and pleasure, "I can't do it."

he ignores your protests and blocks your throat with his hand again, successfully shutting you up and making you take it.

"that's it, pretty girl, you can do it." he leaned down to leave a peck on your forehead, but came back up quick to keep looking at you.

he thought you looked so gorgeous like this. it was electrifying, finally getting to have you. and to make you feel so good.

you resort to scratching your fingernails into his back, leaving your marks with every hard thrust.

he feels your walls clamp around him harder, his cock pulsing.

"you gonna cum again?" he asks you, knowing you cant say anything. he fucks into you impossibly harder than before, his cock hitting your cervix with every thrust.

"yeah, do it for me pretty girl, il mio tesoro, cum on my cock," he groans, still pressing the vibrator onto you.

you uncontrollably thrash under him, grasping onto his shoulder with your nails. your second orgasm hit you with much more force than the first, the coil in your stomach coming undone much harder. your vision went dark and you came all over his raw cock. you clamped around him so hard he almost couldn't fit inside of you, your cum overflowing all over the bed and his skin.

somewhere in your high, he turned the vibrator off and stored it away.

when you came down, he finally slipped out of you and fell back on the bed beside you, heavy breathing. sweat dripped down both of your bodies and the sheets was soaked beneath you.

you were too caught up in your own pleasure to notice that he didn't finish.

you finally opened your eyes and were met with him gazing at you, a light smile on his face.

"hey, bella ragazza, how are you?" he whispers.

"I'm better than ever."

"you need some water?" he asks, gently reaching for the water bottle on your nightstand. you nod silently. he holds the bottle up to you and you take a small sip.

"you probably need this more than me, you did all the work." you smile lazily. he shakes his head and smiles.

"I'm sure your throat is sore, drink."

you giggle.

"did you like that, by the way," he asks shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I did," you nod, affirming his worries, "maybe a little too much."

"oh, you're freaky." he laughs.

"hmph, only for you."

he takes a swig out of the bottle and your eyes fall down his body, noticing his dick is still hard.

"hey, lu, did you cum?"

"that'll be for another time baby, I have a frat party to attend to," he says, slipping out of your bed.

"you promise?" you hold onto his arm and whimper, desperate for him.

he leans down and kisses your forehead. "I promise. go to sleep now, we'll talk in the morning."

as your eyes flicker shut, he puts his once-discarded clothes back on. he grabs your panties and vibrator, shoving them into his pocket.

later that night, you felt the bed dip and a body pull your back against them. you tried to fight it, but their strong arms held you against them.

"shhh, its just me, go back to sleep." Luigi whispered against your hair.

MASTERLIST - PREV WORK

part 2 incoming where the rest of the frat brothers plan them a frat wedding and he Monica Lewinsky's all on my gown! or another part where he buys you a remote controlled vibrator and makes you wear it at another frat party??????? omg I am meaningless mush.

anyways I'm so emo bc we're not gonna see Luigi until January or February :( I hope he's okay :((((

!TAGS!

@strawbrriess @bellobambino @f4nfic-lover @btcowboy @chmpgneprblem @soggysouppp @hereandqueer6540 @poohkie90 @bricapallen16 @miarosalie11 @v1rtualsalvat10n @hypnotizedbyhood @webanglikethat @croucify @cumdnmp @ga33y3 @zeervzn @marzipanlvr @seesaw-it @raekensluver @ddlydevotion @hujirose @darleneslane

#rose toy dividers #luigi mangione #luigi mangione fanfiction #luigi mangione x reader #luigi #luigi mangione fanfic #luigi mangione smut #luigi mangione imagine #rpf #real person fiction #uhc shooter #uhc assassin #uhc killer #free luigi

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svt-luna · 1 day ago

Text

𝜗℘ SANTA BABY

❛ 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘢 𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘢 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. ❜

timeline: 2024

synopsis: On a Christmas Eve brimming with emotion, Luna and Jeonghan exchange gifts that bring tears, laughter, and a profound realization that in each other, they’ve already won the greatest gift of all.

warnings: short but sweet, cursing, slightly suggestive, crying, a concerning amount of fluff, fluff, fluff, fluffiness, tooth-rotting fluff, fluff, oh! and have i mentioned more fluff? if not, then… fluff, may make you feel single on Christmas, established relationship, simp!Jeonghan, what-are-you-willing-to-do!Jeonghan, what-are-you-willing-to-do!Luna, down bad!JeongNa, just over all good vibes

this is the one-shot of JeongNa’s Christmas Eve and the full story behind their recent instagram update: This Christmas, With Love which you can read before this or after, whenever you prefer!! Merry Christmas and happy holidays, my loves!!! 🎄🤍

╰ ౨ৎ ig update: this Christmas, with love

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Luna had always loved the holidays.

Ever since she could remember, the mere thought of winter filled her chest with an inexplicable warmth, despite the icy chill in the air. It wasn’t just the season’s weather— though she adored that, too. The cold was like a gentle bite against her skin, the kind that turned her cheeks rosy and made her breath visible in small clouds.

She loved bundling up in scarves and coats, the feeling of knit gloves on her hands as she clutched warm drinks in the bitter cold. There was something magical about stepping outside into a world transformed, the frost painting delicate patterns on windows, the snow crunching softly beneath her boots, and the sharp, invigorating air filling her lungs.

And then there was the snow itself.

Oh, how she loved the snow.

It blanketed the world in pristine white, silencing the chaos of everyday life and making everything feel softer, purer.

As a child, she would press her tiny hands against frosted windows and watch with wide-eyed wonder as snowflakes danced and twirled their way to the ground. Each flake was unique, her parents had told her, just like people, and she used to imagine the stories each one carried before landing to become part of the earth.

Even now, as an adult, snow still held the same allure.

It wasn’t just precipitation— it was possibility, the kind that made her heart flutter with childish delight.

Luna is a child at heart despite her cold exterior.

But what she loved most about winter wasn’t the cold or the snow. It was the way the world seemed to transform with it, the festivities that erupted in its wake. Streets adorned with twinkling lights, their golden and multicolored hues casting a glow that could rival the stars. Storefronts dressed in wreaths and garlands, windows painted with frost-like designs. Homes turned into miniature wonderlands, with trees laden with ornaments and stockings hanging by fireplaces.

The air carried the unmistakable scent of pine and cinnamon, mingling with the aroma of freshly baked cookies and roasted chestnuts. Every corner of the world seemed to hum with life, bursting with the kind of chaotic joy that only the holidays could bring.

As a child, Luna had thrived in that chaos.

She might have been an only child, but she never felt lonely during the holidays. Her family was large, sprawling with cousins of all ages, aunts and uncles who filled rooms with loud chatter and booming laughter.

The holidays were a cacophony of voices, a blur of brightly wrapped gifts, a feast that stretched across tables and seemed to last for hours. She loved every second of it— the giggles that echoed through the halls, the way wrapping paper was torn apart in a frenzy, revealing carefully chosen gifts that would elicit gasps of delight.

And oh, the food.

Plates upon plates of lovingly prepared dishes, the kind that could make anyone feel at home with just one bite.

For Luna, those gatherings were the essence of the holidays: love, warmth, and a little bit of chaos, all wrapped together in a bow.

Even now, as an adult, not much had changed.

Luna still carried that same love for the holidays in her heart. She’d grown older, of course, and her world had expanded beyond her childhood home. She had met people who changed her life, built friendships that felt more like family.

The members of her group had become just as much a part of her holidays as her own blood relatives.

Each year, no matter how busy their own schedules or how far apart they might be, they always made time for each other. Even if they spent the holidays with their own families, they exchanged gifts and heartfelt messages, sometimes sneaking moments to celebrate together.

A quiet dinner, a surprise visit, or even a late-night video call— those small gestures kept them connected.

Luna cherished it all.

To her, the holidays weren’t just about one’s own traditions but about sharing the joy with others, whether that meant her childhood family or the family she had found along the way.

The truth was, Luna loved everything about this season.

The lights, the snow, the chaos, and the spirit of giving. It reminded her of who she was— someone who poured herself wholeheartedly into the people she loved. And in return, the holidays gave her a kind of magic she carried with her long after the season had passed.

This year’s Christmas, their house glowed with warmth, its halls bedecked in festive splendor that seemed to reflect the happiness within its walls. Twinkling fairy lights hung across doorways, their soft golden glow matching the gentle flicker of candles on the dining table.

The Christmas tree stood in the corner, a towering figure dressed in silver and gold ornaments, its star perched proudly at the top. Beneath it, an array of carefully wrapped gifts spilled out in every direction, their ribbons tied with care. The air was filled with the mingling scents of pine, cinnamon, and the rich aroma of dinner wafting in from the kitchen.

It was, without a doubt, the perfect backdrop for a Christmas celebration, one that carried an extra layer of excitement this year.

For the first time in their five years of celebrating Christmas together, Jeonghan and Luna were doing so as an engaged couple.

Neither of them had spoken it aloud, but there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, something electric and unspoken that urged them both to make this year unforgettable.

It wasn’t about the grandeur of the decorations or the extravagance of the gifts; it was about the meaning behind it all— the deepening of their bond, the blending of their families, and the joy of creating memories they would carry with them forever.

Jeonghan’s parents and his younger sister had arrived first, greeted at the door by Luna, who immediately pulled them into warm hugs, her smile brighter than the Christmas lights around her. Her parents followed soon after, carrying platters of food they insisted on contributing despite Luna’s protests that everything was already taken care of.

It wasn’t long before the house was alive with chatter and laughter, the kind that only family could bring.

Dinner was a feast fit for royalty, with dishes spread across the table in a kaleidoscope of colors and aromas.

At the center was a steaming pot of galbi-jjim, tender braised short ribs simmered in a rich soy-based sauce, its sweetness heightened by chestnuts, jujubes, and carrots. Bowls of velvety tteokguk, the rice cake soup, plates of crispy jeon, golden pancakes made from savory ingredients like seafood and kimchi, were stacked high, inviting everyone to share. A platter of hobakjuk, creamy pumpkin porridge, added a touch of sweetness, balanced by the fiery kick of kimchi. For dessert, there were delicacies like yakgwa, honey-soaked cookies, and soft baesuk, steamed pears infused with cinnamon and pine nuts.

The feast, a harmonious blend of flavors, mirrored the joy and togetherness of the season, with every bite evoking the warmth of home. Luna sat beside Jeonghan, their hands occasionally brushing as they passed dishes or poured drinks, a small, private smile exchanged between them every time.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, stories weaving in and out as glasses clinked and plates were filled.

The laughter continued, each story sparking another until the room felt as though it might burst with joy.

Luna’s father shared a story about her childhood Christmas antics, like the year she tried to stay up all night to catch Santa in the act, only to fall asleep under the tree. Jeonghan’s mother chimed in with tales of his childhood mischief, and soon the table was a tapestry of memories, old and new, weaving their two families closer together.

When the meal finally wound down, it was time for the gifts. They gathered around the tree, the soft glow of the lights casting a warm hue over their faces. Each person took turns handing out their presents, the room filling with exclamations of gratitude and delight as wrapping paper was torn away.

Luna watched the exchange with her heart swelling, her gaze drifting to Jeonghan. In that moment, she couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by gratitude— for him, for their families, for the life they were building together.

Finally, as the night grew late, it was time to say goodbye.

Jeonghan’s parents hugged Luna tightly, thanking her for hosting such a wonderful evening, and her parents did the same with Jeonghan. Promises to meet again soon were exchanged as coats were retrieved and farewells were made.

Soon, the house was quiet again, the echoes of laughter lingering in its walls as Jeonghan and Luna closed the door behind their families.

For the first time that evening, they were alone.

As the door clicked shut behind the last of their family, Luna instinctively turned toward the dining table, her hands already reaching for the nearest stack of plates.

The remnants of their joyous evening lay scattered across the table— half-empty wine glasses, crumpled napkins, and the last crumbs of their feast. The soft hum of holiday music played faintly in the background, blending seamlessly with the warmth still lingering in the air.

It was the kind of mess that didn’t bother her, really.

To Luna, it was evidence of a night well spent, but her natural instinct to tidy up took over before she even thought twice. She moved efficiently, stacking plates and gathering utensils, her steps light but purposeful.

Jeonghan, still leaning against the wall near the tree, watched her with an affectionate smile. He hadn’t moved yet, his arms folded loosely as he admired the way she seemed to glide through the room. There was something endlessly endearing about Luna when she was in her element, her focus so pure and unassuming.

But tonight, Jeonghan wasn’t about to let her get too far into her routine.

As she reached for another plate, she felt familiar arms slide around her waist from behind. The sudden warmth of his touch startled her for only a second before she leaned into him, already accustomed to his affectionate interruptions.

Jeonghan’s chin came to rest on her shoulder, his soft hair tickling the side of her face as he nuzzled her cheek.

“Leave it,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, punctuated with a kiss to the side of her head.

Luna let out a small laugh, but her hands continued their work, stacking another plate onto the growing pile in front of her. “We’ve been over this, Han. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, tightening his hold on her waist as if to physically stop her. “But why do we have to start at all right now? It’s Christmas,” he crooned, his tone lilting and playful, as though he were coaxing a stubborn child. “Can’t we just… enjoy the night? You know, us?”

Luna tried to twist her head to look at him, but he pressed another kiss to her temple, effectively stopping her. “I am enjoying the night,” she countered, her tone firm but softened by the smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll enjoy it even more when our house isn’t a mess.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her back. “You’re impossible,” he whispered, brushing his lips lightly against her ear. “But you love me, right?”

“I do,” Luna admitted without hesitation, her voice quieter now, though her hands still busied themselves with gathering utensils. “Which is why you should help me instead of distracting me.”

“I’ll help,” he promised, his voice taking on a sing-song quality as his hands shifted to her hips, gently swaying her from side to side. “Later.”

“Later?” she echoed, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as a giggle escaped her lips.

“Yes, later,” he confirmed, his tone overly patient as though explaining something to a small child. “Right now, I’m more excited to give you your gift. And to see what you got me. Isn’t that more fun than cleaning, Nana-ya?”

Luna paused at that, finally setting the plates down with a sigh. She turned her head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face, his expression smug and entirely too pleased with himself.

“You’re so persistent,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him even as her resolve wavered.

“And you’re so stubborn,” Jeonghan countered, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Which is why we’re perfect for each other and which is why I love you. But come on, Jiyeonie. Just for tonight. Let’s not worry about the mess. I’ll clean every single plate tomorrow if it makes you feel better.”

Luna sighed again, this time louder, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “Fine,” she relented, her voice tinged with mock exasperation. “But if the house is still messy tomorrow, I’m holding you accountable.”

“Deal,” Jeonghan said instantly, his grin widening as he released her waist only to grab her hand instead. He began leading her away from the table, his excitement palpable. “Now come on. I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

As Luna allowed herself to be guided, she couldn’t help but reflect on how this had become their tradition.

Just as they had started spending the holidays with both their families after they began dating five years ago, this part of the night— just the two of them exchanging gifts— had become sacred.

Neither of them could quite pinpoint when or why it started.

Maybe it was the intimacy of it, the way it felt like a quiet pocket of time reserved solely for them amidst the chaos of the holidays. Or maybe it was just easier to be vulnerable when there were no prying eyes, no pressure to perform or impress.

Whatever the reason, they had come to cherish this moment, when it was just them, raw and unfiltered, sharing their hearts in a way they couldn’t with anyone else.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan as he guided her to the couch, his fingers laced with hers. There was a spark of boyish excitement in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile.

No matter how many years passed, no matter how much their lives changed, this moment— just the two of them— felt like home.

Jeonghan led Luna to the couch with a confident stride, his fingers still laced with hers. As they sat down, he shifted slightly to face her, leaning against the cushions with a teasing glint in his eyes.

It was a look Luna knew all too well— mischievous and self-assured, like he was holding onto a secret so tantalizing that he could barely contain himself.

She raised a brow at him, already sensing he was up to something, though she couldn’t quite figure out what. “What?” she asked, drawing the word out, her tone skeptical but laced with curiosity.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his grin growing wider. “Nothing,” he replied, his voice light and sing-song, which of course only made her more suspicious.

“You’re such a bad liar. Terrible actually,” she shot back, narrowing her eyes at him.

He chuckled, leaning closer until their faces were mere inches apart. “Okay, fine,” he said, lowering his voice to a mock whisper, as though he were letting her in on a great secret. “I just know something you don’t.”

Luna blinked at him, deadpan. “Oh, here we go.”

Jeonghan leaned back, feigning shock. “What? You don’t even know what I’m about to say!”

“I don’t have to. It’s you. You always think you know everything,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest, though she couldn’t hide the small smile playing at her lips.

“That’s because I do know everything… especially about you,” he declared, puffing his chest out dramatically. He nudged her side gently with his elbow, his grin turning smug. “For example, I know that my gift for you is the best gift in the entire universe.”

Luna scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, really?”

“Really,” Jeonghan affirmed, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. He leaned in again, his eyes locking onto hers. “I’m so confident, in fact, that I’ll bet my entire Christmas stocking you’re going to cry.”

“Cry?” Luna echoed, her brows lifting in disbelief.

“Cry,” he repeated firmly, his voice dropping into a soft, almost teasing coo. “Big, pouring, emotional tears. You’re going to cry so hard that you’ll need, like, three tissues. Minimum.”

Luna’s laugh bubbled up before she could stop it, and she shook her head at him. “Three tissues, huh?”

“Maybe four,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “You’re a crier. I know these things.”

“I am not a crier,” she protested, giving him a light shove, though she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“Oh, you are, my baby,” Jeonghan said, catching her hand before she could pull it back. He interlaced their fingers, his thumb grazing her knuckles in a way that was almost distracting. “Remember last month when we watched that random commercial about a dog? You cried for, like, twenty minutes.”

“That was different!” Luna argued, her voice rising slightly as she tried to defend herself. “The dog was lost and then found his way home. That’s emotional, Hannie.”

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Exactly my point. If a dog commercial can make you cry, my gift is going to ruin you.”

“Bold words,” Luna said, narrowing her eyes at him again, though her tone was light. “But you know what? If you’re so sure your gift is the best, I hope you’re ready to eat your words. Because I know my gift is going to make you cry.”

Jeonghan’s brows shot up, his expression one of exaggerated surprise. “Oh? You think so?”

“I don’t think so. I know so,” Luna replied, her voice turning smug as she tilted her chin up. “You’re going to cry harder than me. One hundred percent.”

Jeonghan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned closer again, his eyes sparkling. “You’re cute when you’re cocky, you know that, my pretty moon?”

“And you’re insufferable,” she shot back, but her tone was fond, her lips twitching into another smile.

“Mm, but you love me,” he teased, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as he stared at her with that soft, adoring look that always left her feeling like her heart was a little too big for her chest.

“Unfortunately,” she said, pretending to sound exasperated, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her.

Jeonghan suddenly poked her side, making her jump and let out a small squeak. “Stop that!” she protested, swatting at his hand, but he only grinned wider, clearly delighted by her reaction.

“You’re too confident, Miss Luna,” he said, poking her again and laughing when she squirmed. “We can’t have that.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” she whined, her voice a mix of annoyance and laughter. “If you keep that up, I swear—”

“What? You’ll cry before I even give you your gift?” he teased, poking her one last time before grabbing her hands to stop her from retaliating.

Luna huffed, glaring at him, but there was no real heat in her gaze. “You’re such a child.”

“And you love that about me,” he countered, his voice softening as his teasing grin shifted into a gentle smile. He brought her hands up to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles. “Admit it.”

“Maybe a little,” she muttered, though the way her cheeks flushed gave her away.

Jeonghan’s eyes softened as he gazed at her, and for a moment, neither of them spoke, the air between them charged with something quiet but undeniable. Luna looked away first, clearing her throat as she tried to regain her composure.

“Anyway,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant, “I guess we’ll just have to see who cries first.”

“Oh, we will,” Jeonghan said, his tone full of certainty as he leaned back slightly, still holding her hands. “And when you do, I’ll be ready with the tissues. Four of them.”

Luna laughed again, shaking her head at him. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re perfect,” he replied, his voice so soft and genuine that it caught her off guard. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for a moment, she felt like the rest of the world had melted away.

This was their Christmas tradition, and in moments like these, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

Jeonghan leaned back against the couch, crossing his arms with a playful smirk. “Alright, Nana-ya,” he teased, his voice light and coaxing. “Why don’t we start with your gift for me? Not because I’m dying to see what you got me or anything— though I totally am— but because we need to save the best for last, which is obviously my gift for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes at his cockiness but couldn’t fight the soft smile tugging at her lips. She stared at him for a moment, her eyes softening as her gaze lingered on his face.

His smile was mischievous, his hair slightly tousled from leaning against the cushions, and his confidence was absolutely shining through. And yet, there was an undeniable tenderness in his features that made her heart skip a beat.

After a few seconds, Luna shook her head, giving in with a small laugh. “Fine,” she murmured. “We’ll start with mine.”

Jeonghan grinned, clearly pleased with himself. “Knew you’d see things my way.”

Luna reached for her phone on the table, unlocking it swiftly and beginning to type with purpose. Her fingers flew over the screen, her brow furrowed in concentration as Jeonghan watched her with growing curiosity. His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

“Are you just ordering my gift right now?” he teased, his voice light but probing. “Don’t tell me you forgot to buy me something.”

Luna didn’t even look up as she smirked. “Nope. In fact, I’ve been working on your gift all year.”

That made Jeonghan pause. His brows shot up, and his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but before he could, the familiar chime of a notification sounded from his phone. He looked down at it, then back up at her, his expression skeptical yet intrigued.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding her gaze.

Luna only smiled as she locked her phone and placed it aside. “Go ahead,” she said, leaning back against the couch with an air of playful mystery. “Open it.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching with a faint smirk. “Did you wire me your entire bank account? Because that will actually make me cry, baby.”

Luna let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Just check your phone, Hannie.”

Still watching her closely, Jeonghan picked up his phone and unlocked it. His thumb hovered over the screen before he noticed the Instagram notification at the top.

It was a post from Luna.

His curiosity peaked, and he clicked on it, his brows knitting together in confusion before they shot up in surprise.

It was a new post on Luna’s feed— a picture of her… it was an album cover and the track list which he has not seen before and her caption immediately caught his attention. His eyes darted across the text as he read it under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper:

“‘Not all gifts come wrapped; some are sung… here’s my gift wrapped in melodies! A little something for the holidays. Five songs for someone who makes my world brighter. Maybe they’ll make yours a little warmer too! For the one who inspired it and for all of you… Santa’s biggest secret this year? Is that I made this about you, thinking of you, inspired by you, just for you, @/jeonghaniyoo_n, because Santa doesn’t know you like I do, my angel boy…. this Christmas, with love… out now!!’”

Jeonghan’s voice faltered at the end, and he fell silent, staring at the screen as the weight of her words sunk in.

Luna watched him closely, her soft smile widening as she took in his reaction.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak— he was utterly frozen, his thumb still hovering over the caption.

“You wanna listen to it, my love?” she asked softly, her voice warm and teasing.

Jeonghan didn’t respond at first.

He inhaled deeply, blinking as if trying to process everything, before letting out a shaky breath. “Give me a second,” he murmured, his voice unusually firm. He looked up at her then, his face blank, but the deadpan humor in his tone was unmistakable. “I just need to wrap my head around the fact that you’re this obsessed with me.”

Luna burst into laughter, doubling over as her shoulders shook with mirth. “Obsessed with you?” she echoed, grinning at him. “You think I wrote an entire album because I’m obsessed with you?”

Jeonghan tilted his head, his gaze sharp yet amused. “Did you not? Five songs, Nana-ya. Five. All about me. That screams obsession, babe.”

“And here I thought you’d be flattered,” she teased, sitting up straighter and shrugging nonchalantly. “Guess I’ll just take it back.”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jeonghan shot back, his grin returning as he leaned closer to her. “You’re not taking anything back. In fact, I’m going to make you admit it.”

“Admit what?” she asked, her eyes twinkling as she matched his energy.

“That you’re absolutely head over heels for me,” he said, his tone both smug and playful. “I mean, I already knew that, but now the whole world does too.”

Luna laughed again, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re in love with me,” Jeonghan countered, his voice dropping into a softer, more teasing tone as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Deeply, madly, irrevocably.”

“Maybe,” Luna admitted with a small shrug, her smile turning coy. “But you’re not much better, Hannie. I bet you’re going to cry when you listen to those songs.”

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, throwing his head back against the couch. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he said, his voice full of mock exasperation. “First, you ruin me with that caption, and now this? I swear, Bae Jiyeon, you’re going to be the death of me.”

Luna couldn’t stop smiling as she leaned closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “But what a way to go, huh?” she teased softly, her voice warm and full of love.

Jeonghan let out a low laugh, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. “Yeah,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What a way to go.”

They sat like that for a few moments longer, Jeonghan’s eyes still fixed on his phone screen, until Luna nudged him lightly with her shoulder. “Come on,” she coaxed, her voice soft and encouraging. “Let’s listen to it together.”

His gaze shifted from his phone to her, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You’re really not going to let me mentally prepare for this, are you?”

Luna leaned in, her eyes bright with mischief. “Nope. I’ve been waiting for this moment all year, Hannie. Indulge me, please.”

Jeonghan let out a mock sigh, his fingers moving to unlock his phone. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, but the way his smile deepened betrayed the fondness behind his words.

“And you love it,” Luna teased, inching closer to him on the couch as he navigated to her album.

“Unfortunately,” he replied, his voice dripping with fake exasperation. He pulled up the album, the tracklist appearing on his screen. “Alright, your majesty, let’s see what all this fuss is about.”

Before Jeonghan could press play, Luna crawled closer to him, her movements unhurried and natural, until she ended up seated snugly on his lap. Jeonghan didn’t even flinch— his arms automatically moved to encircle her, caging her in as he adjusted the phone in front of them so they could both see the screen. Luna leaned her head against his chest, her cheek pressing against his sweater, the scent of his cologne familiar and comforting.

“Comfortable?” Jeonghan asked, his voice low and teasing, but his fingers rested lightly against her back, tracing small, lazy patterns.

“Mmhm,” Luna mumbled, her eyes already fluttering shut. She was exhausted from the day, but there was nowhere else she’d rather be than here, wrapped up in his arms.

Jeonghan chuckled softly. “Alright, let’s do this,” he murmured, pressing play on the first track.

The first song began to play, and the room was filled with Luna’s voice, sweet and melodic, carrying lyrics that spoke of warmth, love, and quiet devotion.

Jeonghan was quiet as he listened, his focus entirely on the music. Luna, on the other hand, let herself sink deeper into her position, the memories of writing each song flooding her mind. She remembered the late nights spent scribbling down lyrics, the moments of inspiration when Jeonghan would unknowingly say or do something that would spark a melody in her head.

As the second, third, and fourth songs played, Luna remained still, her head nestled against Jeonghan’s chest. He hadn’t said a word, but she could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek. Every now and then, his hand would tighten slightly on her back, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes.

It wasn’t until the fifth and final song ended that Luna heard it— a soft sniffle. Her eyes snapped open, and she tilted her head up to look at Jeonghan.

“Hannie?” she asked softly, her brow furrowing when she saw the glassy sheen in his eyes.

Jeonghan immediately looked away, tilting his head to the side as if that would somehow hide the tears threatening to fall. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice slightly strained.

Luna blinked, her lips parting in surprise. “Oh my gosh, are you really crying?” she asked, her tone somewhere between teasing and genuine concern.

“No,” Jeonghan said quickly, his voice unconvincing as he brought a hand up to rub at his eye.

Luna sat up straighter, turning fully to straddle his lap as she cupped his face with both hands, forcing him to look at her. “You’re actually crying,” she said, her voice softer now as she took in the sight of him.

Jeonghan rarely cried— she could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen him like this— and it made her chest tighten in both amusement and tenderness.

“I’m not crying,” Jeonghan insisted, though his voice wavered, betraying him.

Luna bit her lip, trying to suppress a laugh. “Hannie,” she said, her thumbs brushing gently across his cheeks. “Are you really crying because of my songs?”

Jeonghan exhaled a shaky breath, his lips twitching upward in a weak smile. “What can I say? You’ve turned me into a sap,” he said, his tone light but his eyes betraying the depth of his emotions. “Also, correction, songs about me, Jiyeonie. Who does that? You’re literally obsessed with me.”

Luna couldn’t hold back her laughter this time. “I thought we already established that,” she teased, leaning in closer.

Jeonghan groaned, tilting his head back against the couch. “You’re not helping,” he said, his voice muffled. “You’re trying to kill me, I swear.”

Luna giggled, brushing her fingers through his hair. “I mean, if this is how you’re going to react, maybe I should write five more songs next year.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jeonghan said, lifting his head to glare at her, though the corners of his mouth were still curved upward.

They both dissolved into laughter, the tension in the room melting away. As Luna’s giggles subsided, she leaned in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for letting me embarrass you,” she said softly, her voice full of affection.

Jeonghan wrapped his arms more securely around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. “Thank you for loving me enough to embarrass myself,” he murmured, his tone earnest now.

Luna smiled, her hands cupping his face once more as she wiped away the remnants of his tears. “You’re welcome, my love,” she whispered.

Jeonghan leaned back slightly, his mischievous grin returning. “You know,” he began, his voice teasing, “if you ever decide to make a second album about me, at least title it something dramatic. Like ‘The Yoon Jeonghan Effect.’”

Luna groaned, dropping her head to his shoulder as laughter bubbled out of her. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, her voice muffled against his sweater.

“And you love it,” he shot back, his arms tightening around her.

“Unfortunately,” she replied, echoing his earlier words.

Jeonghan's fingers trailed softly over the curve of Luna's back, his touch featherlight yet deliberate, sending a shiver down her spine. His hand lingered for a moment at the small of her back before gliding upward, his movements unhurried. When his hand reached the nape of her neck, he gently cupped it, his thumb brushing tenderly against her skin. With a gentle tug, he coaxed her to tilt her head up, making her meet his gaze.

Luna's lashes fluttered as her eyes rose to meet his, her lips parting slightly at the intensity of his expression.

Jeonghan was looking down at her like she was the only person in the world, his eyes drinking in every detail of her face as though committing it to memory. His soft smile carried a reverence that made Luna's heart stumble in her chest.

Without breaking eye contact, Jeonghan leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulled back just enough to whisper, "I love you."

Luna's lips curved into a small, content smile, her eyes falling shut as Jeonghan moved to place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"I love you," he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper, the tenderness in it making her chest ache in the best way.

The next kiss landed on her right eyelid, prompting her to close her eyes

instinctively. "I love you," he said softly, the words falling like a prayer.

Then, he kissed her left eyelid, his thumb brushing along her jaw. "I love you."

Luna felt her cheeks grow warm under the gentle onslaught of his affection, a soft giggle escaping her lips as he kissed her right cheek next.

"I love you," he murmured, his smile growing wider at the sound of her laughter.

He kissed her left cheek next, lingering for a heartbeat longer. "I love you."

Luna's giggle turned into a soft hum as she kept her eyes closed, her smile unbroken.

She felt entirely at his mercy, her body melting into his touch as though he was the sun and she was a flower basking in his warmth.

When Jeonghan finally stopped, his hands cradled her face, his thumbs gently brushing against her cheeks. He studied her face for a moment, his gaze sweeping over every feature as though searching for something he hadn't yet memorized.

"Open your eyes," he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a secret meant only for her.

Luna slowly opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken emotion as they stared at each other, their faces mere inches apart.

"I love you," Jeonghan whispered again, his voice cracking just slightly, his sincerity cutting through the air like a blade.

“I love you,” Luna's breath hitched as his eyes flickered to her lips. He licked his own, almost subconsciously, and she caught the faintest movement of his throat as he swallowed.

Then, with painstaking slowness, he leaned in.

His lips met hers softly at first, like the brush of a butterfly's wings. Luna's breath caught as her senses were overwhelmed by him-the taste of wine lingering faintly on his lips, the gentle pressure, the warmth of his hands framing her face. Jeonghan moved with deliberate care, his lips molding against hers in a way that felt both tender and possessive.

As the kiss deepened, he tilted his head slightly, his movements unhurried but assured. His lips parted just enough for his tongue to trace the seam of hers, coaxing a soft sigh from her. Luna responded instinctively, her hands curling into the fabric of his sweater as she leaned into him.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity and a single moment all at once.

When Jeonghan finally pulled away, it was only by a fraction of an inch. Luna's lips chased after his on instinct, a soft whine escaping her as her eyes remained closed.

"Impatient, aren't we?" Jeonghan teased, his voice low and laced with amusement.

Luna huffed, her cheeks flushed as she opened her eyes to glare at him half-heartedly. "You stopped, Han," she mumbled, her lips curving into a pout.

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands still cradling her face. "I just needed a second to remind myself how lucky I am," he murmured before leaning in again.

This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that made Luna's heart race, his hands sliding down to rest on her waist as he pulled her closer. Luna's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers threading through his hair as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss further.

Jeonghan groaned softly against her lips, the sound sending a thrill down her spine.

Their movements were synchronized, a perfect give and take, their kisses growing slower but no less intense as they savored each other.

When Luna finally pulled away, her chest was heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her forehead rested against Jeonghan's, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "I love you too, so much."

Jeonghan's eyes fluttered open, his gaze searching hers. "You're going to be the death of me," he repeated, though his smile betrayed the lack of real complaint in his words.

"Good," Luna teased, her fingers playing with the strands of his hair as she leaned in to peck his lips lightly.

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands sliding up to rest on her back. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Love me forever," she replied, her voice soft but unwavering.

Jeonghan's smile softened, his arms tightening around her as he pulled her into a hug. "That's the plan," he murmured into her hair, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

Luna smiled against his shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck. "You're stuck with me, you know."

"Good," Jeonghan said, echoing her earlier words. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes filled with a love so profound it made Luna's heart ache.

Jeonghan’s fingers gently combed through Luna’s hair, his touch soft and soothing. “Do you want to see your gift, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice low and warm as he looked down at her.

Luna hummed, her cheek pressed against his chest, her arms still loosely draped around his neck. “I completely forgot about that,” she admitted, her voice muffled by his sweater.

Jeonghan chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “You shouldn’t. My gift for you is just as unforgettable as your gift to me.” His lips curved into a teasing smile, his tone lighthearted but with a hint of excitement.

He gently shifted her off his lap, moving to stand. The moment his warmth left her, Luna whined softly, her arms reaching out as if to pull him back. “Don’t go,” she pouted, her lips tugging downward as her eyes followed him.

Jeonghan bent down, his hands cupping her cheeks as he cooed, “Baby, I’ll be quick. I promise.”

Luna’s brows furrowed, her lower lip jutting out in defiance. “You just got me all comfy, and now you’re leaving?”

His laugh was soft, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m not leaving, my moon. Just going to get your gift.” He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, his voice a soothing murmur. “Stay right here, okay? I’ll be back in no time.”

Luna huffed, crossing her arms as she leaned back against the couch. “Fine. But you better not take forever.”

“I won’t,” he assured her, his tone laced with amusement. Jeonghan straightened up and started toward the hallway but stopped midway, glancing back with a mischievous smile. “And don’t even think about snooping. That’s off-limits.”

Luna raised a brow, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

Jeonghan gave her a knowing look before disappearing down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

Left alone, Luna sighed, letting her head fall back against the couch. Her gaze flickered to the ceiling as her curiosity began to bubble up. What could he have been keeping in the guest room all this time? Jeonghan had been oddly secretive about it since this morning, even telling her earlier that day not to peek inside.

Her mind wandered as she traced idle patterns on the armrest of the couch. Despite her momentary impatience, she couldn’t suppress the warm feeling that spread through her at the thought of Jeonghan planning something special just for her.

Minutes felt like hours as she waited, her ears straining to pick up any sound from the other room. “What’s taking him so long?” she muttered under her breath, her curiosity mounting with each passing second.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the faint creak of the guest bedroom door, followed by the sound of Jeonghan’s footsteps approaching. Luna sat up straighter, her eyes fixed on the hallway with a mixture of anticipation and excitement.

“Finally,” she said as he appeared, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I thought you were never coming back.”

Jeonghan chuckled, his hands behind his back. “Patience, Nana-ya. Good things take time.”

Luna narrowed her eyes playfully but couldn’t hide the growing smile on her lips. Whatever was hidden behind him, she could tell by the look on his face that it meant a lot to him.

And that made her heart flutter.

Jeonghan walked into the living room, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, his hands tucked behind his back to keep the gift hidden from view. Luna, sitting cross-legged on the couch, eyed him suspiciously. Her curiosity had been bubbling since he’d disappeared down the hallway.

Jeonghan took a seat next to her, still holding the gift behind him, and leaned back casually as if he weren’t keeping her in suspense. “Hmm,” he mused aloud, glancing at her sideways with a mischievous smirk. “You know… maybe it’s too early to give you this gift. It’s still Christmas Eve, after all. Maybe we should wait until Christmas morning.”

Luna immediately narrowed her eyes. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she said warningly, her tone dripping with suspicion. “Don’t even think about it.”

Feigning innocence, Jeonghan rose from the couch, making a show of stepping backward as if he were about to leave. “What? I’m just saying, it might be more meaningful tomorrow. You can wait, right, baby?”

“Try walking backwards all the way back there. I dare you,” Luna challenged, crossing her arms as a smirk tugged at her lips.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but laugh, his shoulders shaking. “You’re persuasive,” he said, moving to sit back down beside her. “Fine, fine. You win. But…” He turned to face her fully, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “You have to close your eyes for me first, alright?. No peeking.”

Luna tilted her head, eyeing him suspiciously for a moment before sighing. “Fine,” she relented. She was, after all, a good girl— his good girl. Obediently, she closed her eyes, folding her hands neatly in her lap as she waited.

Jeonghan, still grinning like a mischievous child, leaned forward and placed a quick, soft kiss on her lips. “There you go,” he said teasingly. “That’s your gift. Merry Christmas!”

Luna’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at him, unimpressed. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she said, her voice a mix of disbelief and mock annoyance. “If the kiss is the gift, at least make sure it’s a proper one and not something you’d give back in kindergarten with your crush.”

Jeonghan’s grin widened, a playful glint in his eyes. “A kindergarten kiss?” he repeated, raising a brow. “Are you sure? Do you want to talk about our kiss earlier? That was definitely not childish. And trust me, you don’t want to challenge me on this.” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a flirtatious murmur. “If I show you what a real kiss looks like again, we might end up with another gift in nine months.”

Luna’s eyes widened, her cheeks turning bright red as his words sank in. “Ya!” she exclaimed, smacking his chest in embarrassment.

Jeonghan groaned dramatically, removing one hand from his back and placing a hand over his chest where she’d hit him, though his lips curled into an annoying smirk. “What?” he said, laughing. “I’m just saying the truth.”

“Yoon Jeonghan!” Luna said again, her voice high-pitched with exasperation. “Just give me my gift already!”

Jeonghan chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But you have to close your eyes again. For real this time.”

Luna shot him a pointed glare but reluctantly complied, her eyes fluttering shut as she huffed in irritation. “If this is another trick, I’m going to—”

“It’s not,” Jeonghan interrupted, his voice soft with reassurance. “I promise.”

Luna took a deep breath, waiting patiently, her hands resting on her knees. She couldn’t see Jeonghan’s face, but if she could, she’d know he was grinning ear to ear as he stared at her.

Her trust in him, the way she immediately complied with his request, made his heart swell.

A few seconds passed before she felt it— a soft weight settling in her lap.

Confusion flickered across her features as her hands instinctively moved to touch it. Her fingers brushed against something warm, something soft. Then, it shifted slightly, its small, fluffy body wriggling under her touch.

Her breath caught as her fingers trailed upward, feeling long, velvety ears that flopped over in her hands. Luna froze, her mind piecing it together even before she opened her eyes.

“Hannie…” she whispered, her voice shaky with surprise. But she kept her eyes shut, savoring the moment.

She didn’t need to see to know what— or rather, who— was now sitting on her lap.

The soft, warm sniff of a tiny nose brushed against Luna’s fingers, and her entire body tensed as if holding back a flood of emotion.

Without opening her eyes, her head dropped forward, her hair falling like a curtain around her face. Her shoulders began to shake, silent tremors overtaking her before a quiet sob escaped her lips. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unstoppable, as she broke down completely.

Jeonghan, still seated beside her, watched her with a soft smile, his chest tightening at her overwhelmed reaction but also brimming with quiet amusement. “Open your eyes, angel,” he coaxed gently, his voice laced with a low chuckle.

Luna obeyed without hesitation, lifting her head and blinking her watery eyes open.

The world came into focus, and there it was— a small tan bunny, its tiny paws resting on her lap, its soft fur a shade of warm beige that seemed to glow in the Christmas lights. Its long, floppy ears trailed down as it gazed up at her with curious, shiny eyes.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and the tears that had already been falling came down in an even heavier torrent. She covered her face with both hands, her whine muffled but still audible. “No, no, no,” she whimpered, shaking her head. “Han… no… are you fucking kidding me right now?!”

Jeonghan’s chuckle grew into a laugh, low and affectionate. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone cry harder over a bunny,” he teased, leaning closer to her and brushing his fingers gently across her trembling shoulder. “Hey, hey, breathe, Jiyeon-ah. Come on, pretty girl. It’s okay.”

Luna peeked at him from between her fingers, her cheeks wet and her lips quivering. The bunny remained in her lap, still and sweet, its nose twitching as if trying to figure out its new owner.

From as long as Luna could remember, she’d been obsessed with animals. Dogs, cats, birds— she loved them all. But bunnies had always held a special place in her heart. Maybe it was their soft, round bodies that felt like clouds come to life. Or the way their long ears drooped behind them as they moved. Or perhaps it was their fluffy tails, little pom-poms that bounced with every hop. Whatever it was, bunnies had enchanted her from the time she was a child.

When her fans started calling her a bunny, it only cemented her affection for the creatures. She remembered how her heart had swelled with joy the first time she saw the nickname trending online.

It felt like a perfect reflection of her— small, sweet, and sometimes a little shy.

But despite her deep love for them, she’d never had one of her own. Her mother had been allergic to fur, and that had meant no pets— no dogs, no cats, and definitely no bunnies. As a child, she’d begged and pleaded, but it was never possible and she understood that.

When she grew older and moved to Seoul to be an idol and finally moved into her own space, the thought of getting a bunny crossed her mind immediately. She’d even researched breeds and names, imagining what it would be like to finally hold one. But her busy idol life had always interfered. There was no time to properly care for a pet, and eventually, the dream of owning one slipped into the background.

It became something she daydreamed about but never acted on.

And now, Jeonghan had brought that dream to life.

“You didn’t…” Luna choked out, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes, her hands trembling as they hovered over the bunny’s soft fur.

Jeonghan reached out to cup her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away her tears. “I did,” he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a lullaby. “And you’re going to cry yourself into dehydration if you don’t stop, angel. Breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths.”

Luna tried, hiccupping as she inhaled shakily. But the sight of the bunny in her lap sent another wave of emotion crashing over her. Jeonghan chuckled again, pulling her closer.

Carefully, he shifted her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her securely. Luna let herself collapse against him, her face buried in his chest as the bunny hopped across her lap to nestle against her stomach. She reached down, her hands finally finding the courage to scoop the bunny up. Its fur was softer than she’d imagined, its tiny body warm and alive against her palms.

“Is it really mine?” she whispered, her voice barely audible through her sobs. Her wide eyes searched Jeonghan’s face, her lips pouting like a child seeking reassurance.

Jeonghan smiled, his hand stroking her hair. “It’s yours,” he said firmly, his voice dripping with tenderness. “All yours. Merry Christmas, pretty girl.”

Luna’s grip on the bunny tightened as she hugged it to her chest, her tears soaking into its fur. “I can’t believe this,” she murmured, shaking her head. “When did you— how did you even— Yoon Jeonghan!”

Jeonghan laughed at her flustered state, his eyes sparkling with adoration. “One question at a time, angel,” he said, placing a kiss on her temple. “I’ve been planning this for a while. I wanted it to be perfect for you.”

She sniffled, her eyes still wet as she looked up at him. “How long?”

“Almost the entire year,” he admitted, smiling. “I started looking at the beginning of the year. Found this little one through a breeder who specializes in raising calm, sweet rabbits. I wanted one that would fit you perfectly.”

Luna hiccupped again, her hands trembling as she stroked the bunny’s floppy ears. “And you kept it a secret this whole time?”

“Of course,” he said, his tone teasing. “What kind of surprise would it be if I didn’t?”

Her bottom lip wobbled as she stared at him, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to her nose. “No more crying,” he whispered. “Enjoy your bunny, okay? She’s all yours now. Just like I am.”

Luna couldn’t hold back a watery giggle, burying her face in the bunny’s soft fur. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you so much, Hannie.”

Jeonghan tightened his hold on her, his smile softening. “Anything for you, angel,” he murmured. “Anything.”

Luna’s fingers trembled slightly as she cradled the bunny close to her chest, her tears slowing as awe overtook her features. She tilted her head down, her full attention shifting to the soft, warm creature in her hands.

Gently, she let it rest against her lap before lifting it higher, gazing at it as though it were the most precious thing she’d ever held. Her voice dropped into a soft, cooing tone, her words as tender as the way her fingers brushed over the bunny’s floppy ears.

“Hi, little one,” she whispered, her lips trembling into a smile as the bunny’s nose twitched at her voice. “Oh my gosh, look at you. You’re so tiny… and soft. Are you real? Huh? Are you really mine?” She nuzzled her nose against the bunny’s fur, her giggles muffled by the soft fluff. “You’re the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Aren’t you? Yes, you are. What’s your name, hmm? Or do you not have one yet?”

Jeonghan leaned in silently, a soft chuckle escaping him as he kissed the damp streaks of tears from her cheeks. His fingers worked gently, brushing away the strands of hair that had stuck to her skin. He smoothed her hair back as if fussing over her was second nature, his touch lingering like a feather against her temple.

Luna didn’t look up, too engrossed in her new pet, but Jeonghan couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“I can’t believe this,” he said suddenly, his voice filled with disbelief but tinged with amusement.

Luna finally lifted her gaze to him, her brows furrowing slightly. “Can’t believe what?” she asked, her voice still soft, almost absentminded as she stroked the bunny’s fur.

Jeonghan tilted his head, his lips curving into a playful smirk. “I can’t believe this made you cry harder than when I proposed to you,” he said, his tone mock serious but teasing enough to make her pause.

Her eyes widened before she burst into laughter, the sound bubbling up so unexpectedly that the bunny gave a small wiggle in her hands. She quickly steadied it, cradling it closer as she giggled uncontrollably. “That is not true!” she managed between her laughs. “You are so dramatic. I literally almost blacked out when you proposed to me!”

Jeonghan shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he brushed an invisible speck of dust from his knee. “I don’t know, Jiyeonie. You were crying pretty hard over this bunny.” He gestured to the small creature in her hands, his smirk widening. “I’m just now realizing that not only do I have to share your attention with twelve other members, but now I have to compete with… him.” He nodded toward the bunny as if it were a rival.

Luna snorted, her laughter subsiding into soft giggles as she pressed a kiss to the bunny’s head. “Him?” she repeated, her tone curious. “It’s a boy?”

Jeonghan nodded, his smirk softening into a grin. “Yeah. He’s a boy. What are you gonna name him?”

Luna tilted her head, her gaze drifting back to the bunny. She studied him intently, her lips pursing in thought as she stroked his long ears. A few seconds passed before her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Bugs,” she declared.

“Bugs?” Jeonghan repeated, arching a brow.

“Bugs Bunny, duh,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes, as though the name were the most obvious choice in the world.

Jeonghan groaned, leaning back slightly as he placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “I think I’m starting to regret getting this bunny now,” he joked, though the laughter in his voice betrayed him.

“Oh, you are not!” Luna shot back, kissing the bunny again as if to prove a point. “You love him already. Admit it.”

Jeonghan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched her dote on the bunny. His smirk returned, sly and teasing. “I’ll admit I love him under one condition,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

Luna raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued. “What condition?”

Jeonghan tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Every kiss Bugs gets has to be doubled and given to me.”

Luna gaped at him, her jaw dropping slightly before she burst into laughter again. “You are so ridiculous!” she said, shaking her head as she hugged the bunny closer. “I’m not keeping track of how many kisses I give him.”

Jeonghan leaned even closer, his face mere inches from hers now. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone dripping with playful charm. “I’ll keep track for you.”

Luna rolled her eyes, but the flush that spread across her cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, her smile never fading. “You’re impossible, Yoon Jeonghan.”

“And you love me for it, Bae Jiyeon,” he shot back, his grin softening as he reached out to brush his fingers over her cheek one last time.

Luna looked back down at Bugs, her heart full to the brim. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I do.”

Jeonghan leaned back on the couch, the smirk on his lips smug as he observed Luna holding Bugs protectively against her chest.

“I guess I won,” he said, his voice laced with playful arrogance, his eyes twinkling as he glanced down at the faint tear tracks still glistening on her cheeks.

Luna’s lips parted in disbelief before forming into a pout, her brows furrowing as she turned to face him. “Won?” she huffed, tightening her hold on Bugs, who twitched his nose curiously. “Need I remind you that you cried too? That means I was right. So technically…” She tilted her head with a cheeky grin. “We’re even.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly, his gaze softening as it lingered on her face. His eyes traced every detail— the way her lashes clumped together from tears, the slight swell in her lips from nibbling on them earlier, and the way her cheeks flushed as she cradled Bugs. His attention then shifted to the bunny, whose small movements brought uncontainable joy to Luna’s face.

And just like that, he felt it, a feeling that only Luna managed to make him feel— a rush of something so deep it made his chest ache in the best way.

“We both won,” he murmured, the realization striking him with an unexpected clarity.

Luna blinked, her teasing expression melting into something softer as she looked at him. “We did,” she said, her voice quiet but warm. Her lips curved into a smile that made Jeonghan’s heart stutter, and she leaned forward slowly, Bugs still nestled in her hands.

Jeonghan caught the intent in her eyes and leaned back, his smirk deepening as he allowed her to take the lead. She didn’t hesitate, closing the small gap between them to press her lips to his in a kiss so soft it felt like a whisper. Jeonghan’s hands instinctively moved, one resting lightly on her waist while the other gently cupped her jaw, his thumb brushing over her skin as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss. It was slow and unhurried, a quiet exchange that spoke volumes, filled with tenderness and gratitude.

When Luna finally pulled away, her forehead resting against his for a brief moment, she opened her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Hannie. For everything. For Bugs, for always knowing what I need before I even do.”

Jeonghan smiled, his eyes searching hers as he leaned forward to press a fleeting kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to thank me, angel. I just love you. That’s all.”

Luna bit her lip, her voice soft as she replied, “I love you too. So much.”

Jeonghan brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch lingering. “I know. Everyone in this planet might be listening to you sing your little heart out about me right now,” he teased, his grin making her roll her eyes before she kissed him on the cheek.

As they sat there, the moment of quiet intimacy wrapping around them, they both seemed to come to the same realization. Their earlier predictions about their gifts making each other cry had proven true, but as Jeonghan looked at Luna’s glowing smile and Bugs wiggling his way comfortably into her lap, another thought struck him.

It wasn’t just the gifts. It was the life they’d built together. The love that filled every crack and corner of their hearts. The way their worlds felt brighter simply because the other was in it.

“Looks like we were both right,” Luna murmured, her fingers absentmindedly stroking Bugs’ soft fur as she glanced at Jeonghan. “But it’s more than just that, isn’t it?”

Jeonghan nodded, his eyes soft and full of emotion as he gazed at her. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s everything. We both won life, Jiyeonie. You’re my win.”

Luna’s breath hitched slightly, her smile growing wider as her free hand reached for his. Their fingers intertwined effortlessly, their connection as natural as breathing. “And you’re mine,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder as Bugs nestled closer to her chest. “You’ve always been mine.”

And in that moment, with the soft glow of Christmas lights illuminating the room and a warm, shared laughter lingering in the air, they both knew— there was nothing more they could ever ask for.

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rqyup · 1 day ago

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# experimental game pt 2

pairing.. sylus x non mc!reader

cw.. angst, ooc sylus(?), zayne appearance, implied suggestive scenes

a/n.. im srry guys this is so rushed 😔😔 pt 1.. (working on zayne ending!)

love and deepspace masterlist

It’s been a few months since everything ended between me and Sylus. Despite the time that’s passed, I can’t seem to forget the life we shared. Every kiss, every hug, every night tangled in each other’s arms—it’s all etched deeply in my heart.

Every waltz, every playful banter... it almost felt like we were perfect, didn’t it? That’s what I thought, at least. But then again, I was probably deluding myself. He never felt anything for me besides lust, right?

When I left Sylus, I also left behind the life of luxury that came with him. Now I’m back to paying bills, taxes, and—ironically—back to the same job I abandoned for him. Once again, I’m donning the coat of a doctor, walking the same hospital halls I thought I’d left behind forever.

I always prided myself on being a "law-abiding citizen," someone who wouldn’t bend for anything. But tell me, who could resist eyes like his? Looking back now, I realize how foolish I was. If I hadn’t wasted my time and effort chasing something so fleeting, I might have been promoted to chief doctor by now.

To cope, I’ve buried myself in work—exhausting shifts, endless patients. But even then, I couldn’t escape the emptiness, so I turned to people instead. That’s when I met Zayne, a brilliant doctor with an air of aloofness. I thought he was just a snob at first, someone too proud to speak more than a word.

But the more I got to know him, the more I saw the cracks in his façade. Like me, he carries the weight of being abandoned by someone he loved.

It’s strange, almost eerie, how our stories seem to align. The parallels are too close for comfort, yet I convince myself it’s nothing more than coincidence. After all, what are the odds?

Still, there’s something about Zayne—something that feels... steady. Safe. And I can’t help but wonder: could two broken people find solace in each other?

"Tell me, Dr. Zayne," you paused, your voice soft yet probing, the words carefully chosen.

He looked up from the desk, his usual composed expression wavering ever so slightly.

"Just what did your loved one do to make you feel this betrayed?" you asked, leaning forward slightly. "Even with my situation, I didn’t become that miserable. Could it be worse than mine?"

For a moment, Zayne stayed silent, his fingers lightly drumming against the armrest of his chair. Then, with a deep exhale, he began to speak.

"I gave up everything," he said, his voice laced with a bitterness that made the air feel heavier. "I sacrificed it all because I thought she was worth it. I willingly betrayed people I never thought I would betray... betrayed myself... all to be with her."

His words hung in the air, striking a nerve you didn’t expect.

"It’s ironic, isn’t it?" he continued, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You think you’re making the ultimate sacrifice for love, that it’ll mean something. But in the end, you’re left wondering if you were just a stepping stone for them to find their happiness with someone else."

You swallowed hard, his confession cutting deeper than you anticipated. It was eerily similar to your own choices, the way you left behind your career for Sylus—a man who never looked at you the way he now looked at her.

"I needn’t elaborate further," Zayne said finally, his tone distant. "I suppose it’s just... that way. Love demands, takes, and often leaves you hollow."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His words echoed in your mind, a mirror to your own pain. You wanted to argue, to tell him that it wasn’t always like that—but deep down, you weren’t sure if you even believed it anymore..

Maybe it was just the wind, or perhaps the faint growling of your stomach, but the longer you looked at Zayne, the more you began to notice the quiet elegance about him. His green eyes, sharp yet gentle, seemed to hold an unspoken wisdom. The way he carried himself—graceful, composed, and unfalteringly poised—made you realize how truly admirable he was.

"Ah," he broke the silence, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. "Did my talking bore you? Or is that your stomach making itself known?"

His voice was low, the faint laugh barely audible. But somehow, it was enough to send your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"It's nothing, Dr. Zayne," you replied quickly, trying to mask the sudden rush of warmth to your cheeks. "I just... forgot to eat this noon."

"Forgot?" He raised an eyebrow, a trace of amusement in his expression. "Well... if that’s the case, would you care to accompany me? I tend to have my lunch a little late as well, so if you’re up for it, I wouldn’t mind the company."

You hesitated, caught off guard by the offer. Yet the thought of sharing a quiet moment with him, away from the exhausting confines of work, felt oddly comforting.

"Alright," you said, trying not to sound too eager.

As he gathered his things, you couldn’t help but steal another glance at him—the confident tilt of his head, the calmness in his every movement. He was everything Sylus wasn’t: grounded, thoughtful, and radiating a quiet strength.

And as you walked beside him down the hallway, you found yourself wondering: why didn’t you notice him before Sylus? Was it because you were too blinded by the allure of chaos? Or was it because, for the first time, you were starting to appreciate the kind of love that didn’t demand sacrifices?

Maybe, just maybe, there was something about Zayne you were beginning to see.

You walked alongside Zayne toward the small café at the corner of the hospital street. The air between you was light, your earlier conversations about work and shared frustrations creating an easy camaraderie. But as you entered the café, everything shifted.

There he was—Sylus. And beside him stood her, ms. hunter

Sylus’ gaze landed on you first, his smirk growing as he straightened from where he leaned against the counter. He hadn’t changed. That same magnetic confidence, the same cocky air that drew you in and tore you apart.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sylus drawled, his tone rich with mock surprise. His eyes swept over Zayne briefly before returning to you. “I see you’ve been busy.”

Zayne, at first, didn’t react, his body rigid beside you. But then his gaze locked on the woman at Sylus’ side. His lips parted ever so slightly, his normally composed expression faltering.

MC turned to glance at you and Zayne, her polite smile freezing when she saw him. For a second, the world seemed to stop.

“Zayne?” she whispered, her voice soft but unmistakable.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, glancing between her and Zayne. “You two know each other?” he asked, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.

Zayne’s jaw tightened, his voice cold as steel. “Briefly.”

The woman shifted uncomfortably, guilt flickering across her face as her eyes darted from Zayne to you. Sylus, oblivious to the undercurrents between them, chuckled. “Ah, so you're one of those people in her old circles. Connections, am I right?”

Zayne didn’t answer, his sharp gaze fixed on her.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sylus said, looking at you now, his smirk ever-present. He gave an exaggerated grin, his arm tightening around MC. “It’s good to move on, wouldn’t you say?”

Your stomach churned. The jab was subtle but aimed with precision, as if Sylus had crafted it just to unravel you.

“Move on?” Zayne’s voice broke the tension, low but laced with restrained bitterness. He wasn’t looking at Sylus. His gaze was locked on the woman, the weight of his words aimed squarely at her. “Some of us have no choice but to.”

Her expression crumbled. “Zayne, I—”

Sylus interrupted her, oblivious to the storm building. “Well, isn’t this cozy? Small world and all. We should catch up sometime.” His smirk widened. “Doctor, was it?”

Zayne’s eyes snapped to Sylus, cold and unyielding. “Yes. Doctor Zayne,” he said, his voice clipped.

Sylus shrugged. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard about you—through some articles.”

Zayne didn’t respond, and Sylus didn’t seem to notice or care about the tension thick enough to cut with a scalpel.

“Anyway,” Sylus said, turning his attention back to MC. “We should head out. Busy day.”

She hesitated, glancing back at Zayne one last time. But he said nothing, his face betraying nothing despite the turmoil you could feel radiating off him.

As Sylus and ms. hunter left the café, Zayne turned abruptly, his back to the exit. His hands gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles white.

“Zayne…” you started, unsure of what to say.

You reached out, hesitating before placing a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know…”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut you off, though his tone wasn’t harsh. Just tired. “It was a long time ago.”

But the look in his eyes told a different story, one of wounds that never fully healed.

You and Zayne bid farewell, both aware that the tension from earlier would likely cast a shadow over the rest of your time together. By the time your 12-hour shift ended, exhaustion weighed heavily on you, and you collapsed into bed, grateful for the temporary escape of sleep.

But just as you were drifting off, your phone buzzed. You reached for it, blinking at the message from Zayne: "I'm sorry for yesterday."

You smiled, your fingers quickly typing a response. "It's alright."

The small joy that the message brought you was short-lived, and as you lay in bed, you couldn't shake the lingering discomfort from earlier. It was almost like the weight of the day’s events was too much to just brush off.

So, you decided to get some fresh air, hoping the night might clear your mind. The streets were quiet, and the air was crisp, making the walk feel like a brief reprieve. Your feet carried you almost automatically toward a place that, despite yourself, you had visited before—a spot where Sylus frequently showed up, outside of the N109 zone.

It felt strange, walking there without really thinking about it. Maybe you were expecting to see him? Maybe you just needed to prove to yourself that you weren’t as affected as you felt. The thought lingered like a shadow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn back.

And then, as if the universe had been waiting for this moment, you heard a voice—chilling yet familiar—call out from behind you.

"Sylus."

You froze, your heart skipping a beat. It was him.

But as you turned the corner, you heard that voice—a voice you recognized all too well—calling out from the shadows.

“Well, well, if it isn’t you.”

You froze. You should’ve turned around and walked away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Slowly, you turned to face him, your heart pounding against your chest. Sylus was standing just a few steps away, leaning against the wall with that smirk you had come to both dread and expect.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, his voice smooth as silk, every word dripping with sarcasm.

You held your ground, forcing yourself not to show how uncomfortable his presence made you. “What do you want, Sylus? " you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

His eyes glittered with amusement as he pushed himself off the wall and took a few steps closer. “I’m just curious, that’s all,” he said, his gaze flicking to the phone still gripped in your hand. “Zayne, huh? Tell me, what’s he like? The 'good guy' type, I’m guessing?”

You didn’t like the way his words tasted, but you refused to show it. “What’s it to you?” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected.

Sylus chuckled, his smirk widening. “Nothing, just wondering if you’ve got a thing for the boring, predictable types. Or maybe you’re just tired of the excitement, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes, taking a step back. “Excitement? Is that what you think you are, Sylus? Exciting?”

He leaned in just a little closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I know I’m more exciting than anything Zayne could offer.” His tone was so smooth, it made your skin crawl. “He’s all ‘serious’ and ‘responsible,’ while I’m... well, I’m anything but.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, a mix of anger and frustration threatening to boil over. “You don’t know anything about me,” you said through gritted teeth.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, amused by your reaction. “Oh, I think I know enough,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You’re not the type to settle for the boring, good guy routine. You want something more, don’t you?”

Before you could reply, he took another step forward, closing the distance between you. His proximity made you tense, the air thick with tension. It was as if he was deliberately trying to push you to the edge. His dark eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and something darker—something you couldn’t quite place.

“I don’t think you’ve figured out what you want yet, sweetie.” he said softly, his words almost a challenge. “But maybe I could show you something... more exciting.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, and for a moment, you froze. Sylus was so close now, you could feel the heat of his body. His gaze never left yours, and despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop your breath from hitching in your throat.

"You're still the same, kitten.

The room felt heavy with the weight of what had just transpired. You lay quietly beside Sylus, the silence stretching between you both, a tension in the air that neither of you seemed to know how to break. The rawness of the night still lingered, but it was different now—softer, almost like something deeper had replaced the sharp edges of your frustration.

Sylus broke the silence first, his voice unusually low and softer than you were used to hearing from him. “I’m not proud of how things went between us.”

You turned toward him, watching as he avoided your gaze, his eyes focused on the ceiling. “You’ve never really made people feel important, have you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the frustration you hadn’t been able to shake.

He didn’t immediately answer, letting the silence settle in once more. When he finally spoke, it was with a quiet honesty you didn’t expect. “I was selfish,” he admitted. “I wasn’t thinking about what you needed. I was too caught up in... other things.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a slow breath. “I left because I couldn’t keep being in a relationship that wasn’t real. I wasn’t getting anything I needed, Sylus.” Your voice softened. “I couldn’t keep giving when you weren’t even giving me anything in return.”

He met your gaze, his eyes full of a rawness you hadn’t seen before. “I get it. I wasn’t the man you needed me to be. But... I never got over you, kitten. Never stopped thinking about you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You didn’t know how to respond. You had tried to move on, to distance yourself from everything that happened, but now that he was here, so close, it was harder than you wanted to admit. “I tried to move on too, Sylus,” you murmured, your voice breaking. “But it’s not that simple.”

There was a pause, and you felt him shift beside you, a restless energy in his movements. He rubbed a hand through his hair, his eyes unfocused as if searching for the right words to say. Finally, his voice broke through again. “You know... I didn’t realize how much I still... felt for you until I saw you with Zayne. I couldn’t get it out of my head. The way you two were together... It drove me crazy.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Sylus turned toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “I felt so jealous, sweetie. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Seeing you with him... I realized that I still love you. And that’s when it hit me. How much I never really moved on. Not completely.”

Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. His words, raw and unfiltered, hung in the air between you, and you didn’t know what to say. You thought you had moved on. You thought you were past this. But hearing him say it so plainly—hearing him admit it—brought all those buried feelings rushing to the surface.

“I never thought I’d feel this way again,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “But here we are. And I can’t just walk away from it.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the emotions that welled up inside you. “Sylus, you can’t just come back into my life like this. After everything...”

He reached for your hand, his grip tight but gentle, his touch grounding you in a way you didn’t expect. “I know I can’t fix everything, kitten. But I want to try. If you’ll let me.”

You didn’t speak right away, your mind a swirling mess of conflicting thoughts. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to let him in. But you also knew the pain he had caused you before. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know where we go from here, Sylus. But... maybe we’ll figure it out.”

A softness you rarely saw crossed his face, and he gave you a small, genuine smile. “Yeah. We will.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, but it was different this time. The weight of your conversation still hung heavy in the air, full of unspoken truths. You could feel the tension creeping back in, but this time it wasn’t the kind of tension that had torn you apart before. It was a new kind of energy—one you weren’t sure you were ready for, but couldn’t seem to resist.

As you lay there beside him, your breath caught in your throat. The distance between you was closing, and you could feel the air between you crackling with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, and you couldn’t help but feel the pull. His hand brushed against your cheek, and his eyes darkened as he looked at you.

You didn’t say anything, but the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. And for a moment, all the pain, all the distance between you, seemed to disappear.

Sylus's body was pressed against yours, his lips dangerously close to yours as his hand slid down your back, pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat between you both, the undeniable chemistry, a raw tension that neither of you could ignore.

His breath was shallow as he leaned in, his lips just grazing yours, teasing. "You still want this?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, heart racing, your body responding to every inch of him. You leaned in, almost there-

"Boss!" said luke and kieran.. banging the door, unaware of what's happening inside.

"Seriously?" Sylus muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.

Reader shot him a look, equally irritated. "Of all the times... now?"

The tension hung in the air as the moment slipped through their fingers, the interruption pulling them back into reality.

But hey, atleast they're back together now. ;)

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liketolaugh-writes · 50 minutes ago

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I'm confused about how you read that entire exchange and apparently did not absorb it but I think you maybe need to watch Danny Phantom again.

Yes. I am aware of all of those mentalities. I am aware that a large portion of the DPxDC fandom wants Danny to expect Superman to be Kon's parent (because apparently parenthood is something that can be forced on you and God forbid you feel violated.) I am aware of where Danny gets the grudges that people invent for him (a character that does not hold grudges against anyone except Vlad.) I am aware that there are multiple Flashes and that Danny is equally happy to insult all of them (because talking back to authority is a thing that Danny does. Ever. In his canon.) And I am well aware of how much of the DPxDC fandom likes to portray the Justice League as a bunch of idiots, which... is also not consistent with any of their canons and just, again, comes down to the chip-in-the-shoulder a lot of people seem to carry for heroes these days.

None of that is what I'm addressing. Fandom is built on headcanons and expanded universe, and it's great to build those things! It's great for them to build extra backstory to meld the two universes together, to fill out Danny's kind of flimsy canon, to have Danny already have opinions based on that backstory. You can write all these things if you want. I understand that people enjoy them, and DPxDC has a particularly mutated fanon that people have built over years now. People love these stories!

The part that I am illustrating is that the manner in which it's usually carried out is extremely unlike Danny. See above (far above) characterization notes. But especially, doubly so, for a Danny that grew up knowing and loving the Justice League for most of his childhood, before he had any reason to resent them.

Quite frankly, out of anyone, I would expect Danny - who routinely fights for a town that hated him for half the cartoon, and rescues people that have been cruel to him personally - to understand how terribly difficult it is to be a hero at all. To understand that they work hard to save people every day, that the Flashes time-traveled under great duress and out of pure desperation (as Danny usually does), and to understand that anyone who works around the clock to rescue people is, fundamentally, a good person even when they make mistakes or act out in anger. Repeatedly - with Valerie, with Dora, with Ghost Writer and Dash and Amorpho - Danny is shown to have an intense sense of empathy that lets him forgive people who have acted against him and are not sorry about it.

(And, personally, I think that Danny, having been cloned, would understand how violated Superman felt even if he doesn't agree with how he responded - but that's speculation, I suppose.)

And finally, while I understand the motives writers have for this portrayal (see, again, above notes about fandoms with sweet protagonists that take a lot of shit) the problem is that this vengeful behavior people want him to have is extremely out of character for a boy who:

Apologizes to Dash for something Dash doesn't even know he did (overshadowing him to stick his head in a trash can)

Goes to intentionally let his dad capture him because his dad was having a really bad day

Is the first to suggest a truce the moment he thinks an antagonistic character might be open to it (true of Valerie, Dash, all of his rogues, and occasionally even Vlad)

Once genuinely thought Jazz was beating him up out of anger and responded by apologizing and trying to convince her to calm down

Pretty much only ever just wants people to get along?

I also don't know why you assumed I was basing my entire opinion off drabbles and dialogue snippets, because... no? The stimulus for this entire post was in fact a fic of nearly 10k, which I stopped reading because I was so mortified that Danny kept insulting people that were actively helping him and being considerate and understanding? I don't even read drabbles outside of Tumblr. I prefer longfics, always, and I assure you that I still see all of this pretty regularly. I don't think I've once seen someone imply that Danny holding a grudge is unusual for him.

Why is Danny everyone’s mouthpiece for their random grudges against various superheroes? Why is it SO COMMON for Danny to show up and immediately start chewing people out?

Like. Danny? Mr. ‘My Parents Shoot At Me But It’s Fine’? Mr. ‘Dates The One Ghost Hunter At His School’? Danny ‘Dash Can Shove Me Around I Guess’ Fenton? Holds a bunch of grudges against popular superheroes and tries to punch them at the first available opportunity??

I know it’s become a pretty popular characterization in fandom for Danny to be pretty testy/spiteful, I just don’t really get it

#dpxdc #danny fenton

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mermervi · 2 days ago

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a christmas secret

✎ If you knew your boyfriend turned out to be such an asshole, you wouldn't even look at him in the first place. You'd have called off the engagement, of course, but you chose to stay for the sake of someone who sweetened your days and that someone is none other than your fiancé's brother. Leon. So how challenging can a family Christmas gathering be?

cw: MDNI, shameless smut, p in v, cheatingz!, unprotected segs goes hard ngl, bre3ding mayhaps, family drama aka kennedy family is the new kardashians, not proofread, sorry, praise kink, stomach bulge!, finger!ng, fem! reader, MDNI

find this work on ao3!

For Leon, this Christmas is overly festive, too much of an extravaganza. He has always hated family gatherings and has always been the type of boy who would retreat to his room after grabbing his share of the dishes his mother cooked for the house guests. No girls to bring home for his parents, no serious talks with them at all, and the concept of marriage has always been a total can of worms. For him there was Ada and the many nights he shared with her, nights of “oh, yeah. We fuck each other, and we don’t put a name to it.” This was more than enough for him but nothing to last forever.

Until one day the tide completely turned the night he happened to meet you. He was quite surprised when he heard that his little brother, the one he thought was nothing but a good-for-nothing, had finally met “the one” a year ago. Quite frankly, all Leon could think of was a body mass with every known sexual disease in the world collectively stored in his nuts and sperm. Yes, he was clearly not very fond of his brother.

He did, though, at the request of his father and mother, show up at last year’s get-to-know-the-new-girl-in-law dinner.

And that was the night he saw you for the first time. The truth of the matter is you were far out of his brother’s league, along with the girls from all over the States, but Leon could only see an incapable man next to a pretty girl like you. Still, for the sake of pretending to be the good brother, he did the laughing and ate the food cooked that night. He pulled off a good Kennedy act, the best version of Kennedy his father could muster. Whatever his brother was, Leon was the opposite, and his father couldn’t have asked for anything more. He didn’t care what exactly was going on between his sons. The Dad of the Year, absolutely.

Nobody could blame the old Kennedy. Leon was alright. Whatever. The other boy, however, is the equivalent of a child who was supposed to be jettisoned from the beginning and who, despite the condoms and the pills, was still accidentally conceived one night. He’s the headache itself. The only problem is that he has been so fucking blind to see this kind of unpleasantness and discomfort he has created for years. The guy lives in his own fantasy world.

How he found someone like you is a veiled story behind the scenes.

Leon really wanted to ask, quite a few times, but something stopped him, and the subject remained like a chest of unspoken family secrets. It went as far as getting your engagement with his brother.

It was only a summer night when Leon found you crying alone by the pool outside the house that the tables were turned. The mother of your tears: his moronic brother. But why? Because he will never understand you. Thinking that you might actually find true love now seemed like a rookie mistake to you. So you cried. For Leon, it was just sad. Who knows how many times he had to comfort and sometimes even hug his brother’s female friends?

Oh, and of course there was also the part of providing the most important detail that his brother was missing. Fucking those pretty girls. Hugs and heart-to-heart talks always led to the same thing. You, like the other girls, had found yourself in the same trap—the trap you had willingly walked yourself into—on top of him on a night of poolside fucking in a lounge chair. Doesn’t that make Leon an asshole? Perhaps, but at least Leon’s the kind of guy who has a sense of reverence for the women he sleeps with, whereas his brother... Well, Leon can’t find the right words in English for that guy.

No beating around the bush, Leon wants the same thing tonight. The sex. Your sex. Why would he come to this stupid Christmas dinner anyway? For you, that’s the answer. Couple that with the fact that his job has kept him away from you for a couple of weeks—from the scattered things in life he likes to do—and you’ve got a man who’s been feeling peckish for many weeks.

“Come on, big boy. Jus’ have a bite to eat.”

Leon’s brother’s soused tones interrupt the eye contact between you and Leon, the one that has been covertly lingering on and off. He’s a piece of shit. It’s scarcely seven, and already he’s drunk as a doornail.

Like a demented child, he leans over the table and brings his fork to Leon’s mouth, making artificial train noises in midair.

“Now, now, my boy. Show me your mouth. Honk hooooooonk! Toot toot!”

Your beloved fiancé forces the fork into Leon’s lips, which are pressed together to smooth matters over despite the sour expression on Leon’s face, as if he had just bitten into a lemon, and he doesn’t do much to hide it.

At this point in your life, what could be more embarrassing than witnessing your fiancé doing this in front of all his relatives? And that’s coming from you—someone who usually doesn’t give a shit about relatives.

Mercifully, Leon’s father saves the day when he raises a full glass of wine to draw the attention of the guests at the table to him.

“Here’s to my beautiful family and to many happy years with them. With you guys. I love you all.”

A sweet harmonization prevails around the table courtesy of this man. At least the eyes are where they should be, on the table, on the food, on whatever the good things are. What of your eyes? They are hunting for certain shades of blue, and when they locate them, the same kind of serene smile sits on his lips as on yours.

Why is it that you feel so safe around him, but so bare around his brother and his kin? He’s their blood, but he acts just the way you always need him to be.

Blending into your vista and turning the picture upside down, a red face suddenly intervenes between you and Leon. As it always does.

“Heyyy.” He orates garishly and kisses your cheek.

That’s not serious. Why must he butt his nose into absolutely everything? Sometimes you just want to throw away the ring and give a basket, then spit in his face and run like hell.

Apart from the striking blue gaze, far away from Leon’s gaze, your fiancé’s attention is focused on you. More precisely, down your cleavage, or even exactly at the low-cut level.

“What?”

“What what what?” He’s parroting you, yammering.

“Stop drinking like a horse and quit clowning around.”

“Why? Tits the size of my head—”

“Why don’t you shut your mouth? There are kids around. Screw you.” You look askance at him, but all to no avail. Yes, everything happens out of the prying eyes of the relatives—except for one person (Leon!), you and your fiancé are bickering at the mouths of each other. An outsider would even make a compliment about your idealistic relationship, saying something like—what a romantic lovebird these two are."

“Ha. Nice.” Your lover almost burps with a bitter taste on his tongue. In your face. “Huh. How about making them new cousins?” And as if his sobriety wasn’t already bad enough, he, of course, dares to dare to think about anything that pertains to his dick. What an idiot. Like he can even fuck you. This guy has been dead for some time. The alcohol does that shit, he says, but he’s always been all thumbs, dick down.

“Get lost. Seriously. I’m on my period, anyway.” You lie, and within a split second your fiancé responds with a horrified scowl that is woven across his face like a tapestry. Of course you’re engaged to a misogynist and a guy who’s allergic to the subject of menstruation.

“Yuck. No way. ‘m going to go now.”

“What? Where to?”

He stands up heedlessly, scrambling up the chair with the back of his shoe as you pelt him with a barrage of follow-up questions.

“Hey, guys! I’m outta here.”

He waves to everyone like a famous singer at a concert hailing his fans from the stage.

This fucking guy...

The assembled folks watch in silence for a spell as your fiancé staggers along in a drunken swagger. Even Leon watches him, and he knew from the moment he received the invitation that he was going to be subjected to such a moonstruck stunt. More or less, he could have guessed that the main character would be his stupid, dickhead of a brother.

You try to recover from this situation with a short ha! of laughter without even letting the situation escalate into a real problem. “He’s too busy. Even on New Year’s Eve. Got... a call... from work. Yeah. He did—God. What a man. He makes me so proud.”

What a shock.

Leon’s holding his laughter like it’s a sneeze at your eye-watering performance. Turns out everyone in this house who has or is about to have the last name Kennedy is always obliged to deal with the chaos created by that mindless pain in the ass. Tonight was no different from any other disaster, and Leon knows you’re a real Kennedy now.

“Yes, indeed. He’s just recently qualified. The boy is quite overwhelmed with business.” Mrs. Kennedy, sitting next to Leon and across from her husband, is quick to gloss over her young son’s asinine mistakes. It’s hard not to admire her as she does so. It’s her aura that speaks, not her, and it’s at that particular minute that you decide that some of Leon’s facial features descend from her. Like mother, like son.

The table stills after another parental rescue drill. Not a bad kind of night, you might say. The conversation circulates. You make the acquaintance of people who aren’t so black and white. Turns out the Kennedy bloodline isn’t all bad, sort of. American as apple pie, Italian as... pizza?

All this talking, socializing, and blah blah blah goes right through your social battery. That’s enough people and new faces. It wouldn’t hurt to venture out into the garden and catch some air. Maybe light a cigarette. You never know.

Excusing yourself from the throngs of people, you finally step out of the back door of the kitchen through the patio door leading to the backyard.

The bracing air from yesterday’s foot-deep snow is wafting sweetly across your face. The ground beneath your feet is still dewy, and the caked snow sticks to your soles. Too much on your mind to give a crap. That stupid boyfriend of yours is the culprit of it all. Easy.

Raising the joint in your hand, you roll a cigarette and cradle it between your lips. You dig in your pocket for the lighter you think is in your dress pocket, but no luck so far.

Within a scant few seconds, the gentle gusts of breeze blow into waves of bone-chilling cold and spray your skin under the thin fabric of your dress. Silly you are. It’s a recipe for disaster to be going out in such weather without even putting on a single jacket.

You’re kicking yourself from the inside.

Luckily, the sliding door behind you flings to the side. It’s none other than your soon-to-be brother-in-law. Squinting at you in the twilight, as if he’s judging you. Yes, yes, yes, yes. What a way to be out in the cold, damn it. He most likely will lecture you. You know the drill.

“Is this the way to go out in this cold, sweetheart?”

Called it!

You just shrug your shoulders, and Leon lines up next to you. He looks at the cigarette between your lips with a bogus hint of titter. “You know these things will kill you.”

What a wiseass.

As you flick your lighter, he takes off his brown jacket, which you think is new and pretty. He looks good with it.

Unexpectedly, the gesture is a small token from his heart. He slides the jacket over your shoulders, and you notice the flashes of sparkles that fill his eyes. Tonight, especially after yesterday’s bellowing of flaky snow, there is a distinctive gale in his eyes under the arch of the constellations and the blue-gray moon—like two small globes of blue-sky moon.

“You must really like staring at me.”

This man is a dab hand at deflecting attention with a comment that will definitely ruin the whole moment. It must be a family thing, you decide.

“No, I’m surprised. Look at you looking like such a show-off. You’ll catch cold.” Your voice is laughable and blurred from the cigarette between your lips.

“Don’t even think about it.”

Just as you’re about to take the jacket off you and return it to his arms, Leon holds you by the arm and then intercepts you. Doesn’t take you seconds to register that you have been missing his touch all along in your memory. It’s so distant yet so fresh.

The stillness of the night falls between you, leaving a familiar glow inside your bones—white and aurelian. It’s all the same to Leon. Moments like these are potentially precarious, and it’s usually Leon who does something to diffuse the situation in those peak seconds of emotional overload. Practical wit.

He takes the lighter from the palm of your hand and with a few flicks, ignites the cigarette’s stub. His free hand instinctively cups around the bluish, wavering flame. He watches and waits until you take a drag — notwithstanding the sharp, burning wallop searing through his palm. Worth it, he figures. The agony in his hand is only temporary, a demising singe. Yet the fire inside you? That’s something else, something you both share. You’re burning in your lungs. He’s burning in his hand. Unquestionably, with an esoteric surrender.

“Thanks.” You exhale away from him. In his case, Leon fiddles idly with the same lighter. He looks contemplative.

Must be an acquired connotation to that expression on his face. Sometimes you really wonder what on earth is going on in his head. You would have sacrificed your fiancé to cut open Leon’s head and find out what’s going on inside his head during such hush-hush intervals, really. It wouldn’t be half bad. The world would be rid of a piece of shit, and eventually, you would have peeled back the layers and understood who Leon Kennedy really was.

You raise your brow at him and grill him while he snatches the fag he robbed from your lips. He takes a long draw. By heart he knows the taste of your lips, all paper-wrapped and kissed.

“Whatcha got there? Cherry lip gloss?”

“Yup.” You hum in approbation, and now you watch the heady vapors drifting from his lips, frost-kissed red as fresh grains in a pomegranate against the biting cold.

What is clear is that you both crave to be with each other. Why, Anna wants Vronsky like Vronsky wants Anna, like Vronsky has that mad, demeritorious longing for Anna. And for Leon, you’re what they might label that weird thing inside him.

“Come with me to the greenhouse. Now.”

“What? N-now? The surge in your speech ripples, either from the cold or sheer astonishment.

With the last puff, Leon throws the cigarette on the snow-carpeted ground and treads on the glowing ash with the sole of his shoe. The next thing you know—

He grabs you by the wrist and drags you behind him to the glass vestibule of his mother’s one and only conservatory. All this silence, all these initiatives are the signs that he has a master plot in his head, and you’re just getting the hang of it.

“This is insane. House is teeming with people. We... we should wait for them to sleep.”

Your words make no sense, at least for Leon, and yes, they are sensible, but Leon’s a recalcitrant one. He’s straight in his head.

“Oh, that’s it?” He lets you in and zooms out the door behind you. Naturally, he first snoops around to see if the place is empty or not. He doesn’t have to search every corner. The survival instinct that comes with his profession assures him that the place is pretty vacant from the moment he steps foot inside.

Your tentative steps are no different than trekking through a minefield. You trust him, but getting nabbed is always a contingency.

“Yeah. Fat chance, sweetheart. It’s now or never.” Leon whispers a brickbat, mimicking the way you croon your words when you feel imperiled. The two of you cross a lane, and Leon turns to you. Curling his fingers around the delineation of your waist, he lifts you onto a sturdy mahogany tabletop that his mother usually decorates with lovely flowers. Show off.

“What if someone—”

He heckles you obliquely with his index finger, pressing it just slightly to your lips.

“I’ll be completely honest when I say this to you. Everybody knows that we’re fucking.”

“They do?”

Leon offers one affirmative shake of the head. “My dad and ... my mom... well, she knows everything.”

“Christ.”

How much more scandalous information can Leon reveal about his family, you ponder, as your darling brother-in-law rucks the hem of your dress up and you, with what must be muscle memory, spread your legs apart to give him more room to do his thing.

“I knew it.”

He makes a subtle jab at the sheer wetness staining the frilly seam of your panties. Inoffensive, alright. Call a spade a spade; you’ve been sitting wet from the very beginning of the evening—or rather, from the second you glanced in Leon’s direction. Kind of like a stupid baby who peed her pants.

“You’re wet, missy.”

Don’t mind your panties skimming down to your ankles, just around your heels.

His touch, the one you have been yearning for, sinks into you in two fingers, scissoring your pussy with his middle and ring finger, and your heart nearly pops out of your throat. He could have taken out his phone and taken a picture of a memory he didn’t want to forget, a cover photo that could have been the most memorable snapshot of your face—the most beautifully captured moment of the year.

“So tight,” his whisper sears your chest, “he could never give you what you want, and he will never give you what you want. Gotta be thankful that you have me.”

Well, you’ve never been a thankful person, but maybe now is the time for a character transformation. Maybe you really should thank your brother-in-law for his very existence this year as he fucks his fingers into your velvety folds.

“Hmmm? What you say? Don’t you fuck him just to keep yourself for me?”

“Maybe.” Your breath touches his cheek, like a summery kiss, as he thumbs the spot that makes you squeeze down on his digits.

“Not the answer I expected, though not that I care. I have more important things to do.”

He’s talking about important things like you, to be sure, or your lovely cunt where the slick is bleeding on his fingers.

When he’s sure he can fit himself in, he samples his glistening fingers himself, in his own mouth. A familiar taste, yes, but it leaves a trace of saccharin on his tongue that he has been denied for quite a long time. When it’s forbidden, it’s the lushest.

“Maybe I’ll eat you tomorrow morning after breakfast.”

How funny. No offense, but he sucks at these quip games.

Neither he nor you have the patience to wait any longer in the rush of this. Whatever this is. Quick as it is, Leon wraps your legs around his hips, which he grasps by your calves.

You do the rest and release him with your hand, loosening the belt around his waist and running your hand down to the zipper of his pants. Either it’s something in your imagination, or tonight he seems bigger to your eyes than you can ever remember him being. That, and the scars, which you can now observe so vividly for the first time. They’re emblazoned on his pale hide and mar him in angry pinks and ultraviolets. As much as you want to touch them, to plant those healing kisses, it’s Leon who stops you.

“We don’t have time.”

You already know that. In his defense, Leon and you have made one thing clear from the beginning: no feelings attached!

So maybe in another universe you had the right Kennedy, and you were the one who lay with him in the same bed. You had a life beside him, with a cat and a dog, plus a roof over your head. Tragically, in this universe you were the cheating slut who cuckolded your fiancé, and he’s the asshole who banged his brother’s fiancé.

“We don’t have time,” says the smartass, as he strokes the reddish tip of his cock back and forth over your wet entrance and repeats it like a looped movie script. It’s enough to piss you off, but your impatience is through the roof.

“Please. Please, Leon.”

The first thing he’s anticipating is the begging stage. But he wants more than that. And you know it.

“Expecting better words from that witty mouth.”

You bite your lower lip, and no, that’s not what he’s expecting nor what he aspires to.

Leon pulls back a little and lays hold of his cock by the shaft. It’s leaking from the tip, and he smears the pre-cum by gliding the fat head of his dick into your slit. Smart saving, no wasted material.

“See?” He massages the fluids with his ring finger, rubbing everything inside. “How your little pussy loves me. Your body wants me, sweetheart.”

He then spits on his palm, garbing the dew over his cock, and proves his practical acumen even if he comes up with a solution that is not particularly hygienic.

“Now you tell me. Want me to fuck a little Kennedy in this pretty pussy?”

You should be ashamed of yourself. That you’re dying for this. Synonyms for these images of humiliation, however, don’t even cross your mind during those abandoned seconds.

You don’t know how many times you have shaken your head at him, positively, but it’s so worth it to see that boyish grin on his face.

“I want it, Leon. Nothing but you.” You are no longer begging but spewing the truth as almost a last resort.

Leon feels a thrill of elation at the way you squeeze him as he slides into you, tighter than sin. Your lips are sucking in a delicate puff of breath, and he’s not even inside you.

The table beneath you is virtually slipping out of your palms, but fortunately you have him. He always holds you and always gives you whatever you want. He pulls on your hips, and moonlit tears well up in your eyes, stinging your lashes.

“Damn, gorgeous. Can barely fucking fit.” The rasp of his lilt in his voice, the rush of his fingers on your hips. It’s all turning your head topsy-turvy. Slow, perhaps lazy thrusts push inside you, and your fluttering walls memorize the shape and outline of a cock that fucks you up inside and out. He leans back and groans as his dick melts into you—inch by inch, deeper and deeper, and the parting of his lips breaks into a grin as you near your limit with a newly forming bulge inside your stomach.

Only then do you auscultate the scratchy urge seething inside him.

“Look at this. Too big for ya? God—missed this pretty pussy so bad.”

More than you have missed him?

Or does he even realize how wretchedly you tighten around his cock when you hear the subtle eulogy out of his mouth?

This is Leon you’re talking about. Of coure, he feels you. The guy worships you.

He knows and reads your body, your soul. Goes further when you gently repel back to meet his hips, to less when he realizes that your hand is curling into a fist on his abdomen, and tenses up when he lashes your cervix with a very hard stab.

Everything is for you: every error he has made and will ever repeat and every right he will ever do.

So is the way his lips quest for yours. The kiss rips out everything in your brain that belongs to survival instincts—rough and soft in equal measure—utterly debauched. His demanding hands play with your right tit poking out of your dress as if it were his own personal meat and vein toy. Hands reach up from his biceps down to his forearms, helpless, and you cling tightly to his shoulders because his body is the only thing that is holding you on the end of the table right now. He’s the only thing keeping you here, against the freezing degrees outside, against the happy house imaginary, against the people in it.

Your mutinous whimpers choke in your own throat in an audible volume, and you recoil from his lips as if you are screaming in a nightmare but happen to have lost your voice. Eyes glazed, and both your lips are alizarin to the point of bleeding.

“Look what I fucking do to you, greedy girl.” He reaches down your neck. Doesn’t choke you, though.

He’s the one who made you this way. Tonight he’s just more cynical than you’ve ever known him to be. Dirty talk will definitely rattle around in your brain in the most unlikely of places—maybe during a briefing, or maybe when you’re sitting with your beloved husband-to-be, sipping coffee or hot chocolate together.

“I can’t. Leon. I think I—” The little words you’re trying to say just won’t come out of your mouth. You push so hard, but there’s simply no way through. Those mental words linger in your mind like clouds of rumination, leaving you mouth agape.

“Yeah, me too.” He whispers quite musings as his thumb finds the pearl of your clit.

That’s exactly where the hell breaks loose. You no longer possess the vigor to spring up on the table, nor does he have the stamina to be sucked into the molten lava in which he’s melting and kindling.

Drunken mistakes or impulses often drive people to make a choice they will regret. Your ineptitude is a down payment. Right there and then, you blanket his still throbbing cock, and he’s blinking his eyelashes together. All that ponderous, stinging thrusting, now numb and sporadic.

“I’ll give you, give you—my baby.”

Famous last words.

Still, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. Really, the very essence of male beauty must have been invented for him, or you’re just too fucked up here.

To him, you’re so beautiful, and you take his cock so nicely. Absolutely worth its weight in gold.

With his face sunk into your neck, he moans, making a note of total bliss as he bottoms out, filling you as intensely as possible. Leon betrays a breath of air and closes his eyes for a second as your lovely pussy sucks in every lingering drop.

Your pulse is as senile as an oldie; you’re flushed and panting, gripping the edge of the table beneath you.

The rank ham-fistedness of your conduct dawns on both of you as you both only just regain your composure.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” So effortlessly, as if what happened between you hadn’t even had a spare moment to touch you—both emotionally and physically—as if he isn’t still inside you, he gives you his New Year’s wishing.

“Merry Christmas, Leon.” Back at him, you sigh exasperatedly. No harm done. Can’t help wishing that the new year will be spent right next to him.

“Are you ready to get up, or should I carry you?”

“Have I told you how hilarious you are?”

“Oh, honey. The girls love it. So do you.”

He crowns his comedy rehearsal, which is guaranteed to get a standing ovation, with a conical hat that he finds on the table at a random and very absurd moment and plonks it on your head. You nearly flinch.

“There you go. Now you fit the theme.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #christmas #happy christmas #yall #:3 #resident evil #resident evil 4

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woodle-isbae · 2 days ago

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Hi hi.. i noticed requests were open for Arcane i thought i ask for one.

>_< I was wondering if you were willing to write about a chubby squishy reader who absolutely adores Sevika and loves cooking/baking for her?

The acts of service love language; fixing the small things Sevika might complain about. But she absolutely refuses and gets all blushy to admit or say “I do it because I love you.” Might even have little playful banters where reader says something like: “no no I’m cooking this to absolutely poison you. Gonna steal your gambling money!” Then proceeds to make the most nutritious thing she can cuz her huge gf has new wounds from bar fights.

if Sevika gets fed up and tries to tease the “ILY” outta reader would be nice. 🙈

You can write this as hc or with anyone that feels more comfortable for you ofc. I think maybe Vi would be more fitting? 🫶🏻

Hope it’s an acceptable request.

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Cw: Hybrid! Fem! Reader, slight mean! Sevika, Sevika is all Gushy around Reader, wuh luh wuh, chubby! reader.

Mixed request☆

🎄 Sevika would come home to a fully made Christmas meal, Gingerbread house and candy canes lined up on the dinner table.

🎄She would get a little pissy over the fact you did it all alone, but her mood changes when she realized- You did all this...for her.

🎄Sevika who would constantly pester you over the fact you made her a whole feast, acting like a high-school girl when she took a bite into the warm and juicy Ham, giggling even more when you helped her build Another gingerbread house.

🎄You offered to invite Jinx and Isha- but they were already having Christmas with Ekko. Ultimately cuddling up with Sevika infront of the warm fire with some hot chocolate and gnawing on some Candy canes.

"You did all this for mee?"

You giggled at how giddy she was, slapping her shoulder gently and sitting up.

"Uh..no, I made it all for me- you just happen to live with me, which means you also have to get some I guess."

"Yeah alright Pussy-Cat."

She stood up before you could say or do anything, leaving you to let her words soak in.

"SEVIKA!"

🎄Sevika who leaves you alone in the house once again, not even bothering to tell you where she was going.

🎄She could completely trust you all alone, even though most of Zaun knew who you were and your affiliation with Silco's right hand, she trusts your hybrid instincts would help you incase anything happened.

🎄Sevika who came back later than you both predicted, everything was already packed away and the whole house cleaned.

🎄She had decided to leave you little gift under the Christmas tree that Jinx and Isha built earlier In the month, a note with your name in bold sat next to the box.

🎄Sevika, being the asshole that she is, shook you out of your sleep and dragged you to the living room. Thankfully the room was still warm enough for you to be in just your Pajamas.

"Open it."

You were quite skeptical, knowing she wouldn't wake you up unless it was very Very important or an emergency.

You messed around with the poorly wrapped paper and ribbon on top While Sevika occupied herself with the sway of your tail and twitch of curiosity in your ears.

You opened the box, being met with a strange shaped object which was Also wrapped, only letting out a sigh as Sevika giggled from behind you.

As the final piece of paper was removed, you let out a gasp and jumped up from the floor to stare at your partner in shock. She had gotten you (Christmas gift of your choice), pushing herself off the couch and strutting towards you smuggly.

🎄She knew how much you wanted it, and knew how hard it was to get in Zaun- so she pulled some strings and had it delivered straight to her..for you!

"Shh Shh, don't have to tell me how amazing I am."

"But why? This probably cost you an arm- no pun intended- and a leg!"

You giggled a bit before focusing back on the conversation. Placing the gift down and hugging the much larger woman, her hand gripped at the plush of your ass and bit the soft cheek on your face, earning an 'ow!' From you.

"It's really nothing compared to the whole feast you cooked up."

You huffed and rolled you eyes, shoving her a bit too.

"Vika, I only cook for you because I love you, you work so much and get hurt too! I made that meal so you could properly fuel up and mabye not come home so beat up."

🎄Sevika who stood there for a moment before laughing, not at what you had said but at what she accomplished. Grabbing you by the side of your head and pulling you in for a kiss.

"HA!! I got you to say why you did it- and you love me?"

you had stared at her I disbeliefed and a bit hurt that she would laugh after sharing your feelings.

"What...say what.?"

"I love you!"

"I love you too Vika."

The room had gone quiet, both of you staring at eachother- you more giddy while Sevika raised a brow.

"Okay, you got me there.."

🎄Sevika who tried to fight less for you, still expecting your amazing meals thought. She'd come home and make you count if she had any new wounds and how severe they are- probably got an earful from you if she had any new ones.

#azana #x black reader #chubby!reader #black plus size reader #arcane #sevika arcane #sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x y/n #sevika fluff #sevika x chubby! reader #sevika x black!reader #arcane x black reader

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sunsburns · 17 hours ago

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this came to me in a dream last night but imagine bsf!vi spying on you and your date (fem!reader, hints of caitvi x reader)

clearly, violet isn’t the jealous type, there wasn’t much that she was usually up against anyway. she was just… looking out for you—it was hard to trust some random date you met on an app or through some mutual friend.

“you don’t trust anyone, vi,” you said, smoothing the last stray pieces of hair in the mirror. vi stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame like she had nothing better to do, her arms crossed over her chest.

“i trust people,” she shot back. her tone was defensive like you’d accused her of something worse. “i do!”

“right,” you replied, your smile a little too knowing for her liking.

your phone buzzed on the counter, and vi’s gaze flickered to the screen. here, it read. she watched as your expression shifted—nerves and excitement mixed together in a way she didn’t see often.

“they’re outside,” you said, glancing at her. vi didn’t budge, just gave a small nod like she wasn’t planning to leave her spot anytime soon.

“have fun,” she said after a beat,

you grabbed your jacket and stepped past her, pausing just long enough to catch her eye. “don’t wait up.”

vi smirked, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “sure. i’ve got better things to do than babysit your bad decisions.”

and by better things, she meant standing there, riling herself up for no reason. vi lingered in the doorway long after you left, her arms now loosely hanging at her sides. she could picture it too clearly: you sitting at some café, that soft, nervous smile you got when you weren’t sure what to say, your fingers brushing over the edge of your cup, looking as good as you always did. only this time, that smile wasn’t for her. it was for some fucking stranger.

her jaw tightened as the thought settled in. what kind of person even asks you out like this? who were they to deserve your attention, your time? vi didn’t even know their name, let alone what they looked like, but the image of some faceless jerk talking too much, maybe trying to impress you with something lame, was enough to make her roll her eyes.

she wasn’t jealous. she wasn’t.

jealousy was messy, and vi didn’t do messy. she wasn’t the type to get all worked up over something that wasn’t her business. this wasn’t her business. except—what if this person turned out to be trouble? what if they hurt you?

shit, what if you liked them?

“sounds like jealousy to me,” caitlyn’s voice chimed through her phone’s speaker a few minutes later.

vi’s jaw tightened as she paced the room, staring at the faint reflection of herself in the window. hooded sweatshirt, messy hair, no real plan—she looked like someone gearing up for trouble. “shut up, it’s not.”

“uh-huh,” caitlyn said, entirely unconvinced.

vi exhaled heavily, tugging her hood up like it might smother the heat creeping up her neck. “i just… wish i knew what was going on. that’s all.” her voice was quieter this time, almost an admission.

she hated not knowing. not knowing who this person was, what they wanted with you, what you were saying to them right now. were you laughing? leaning in close?

“you just gotta chill,” caitlyn said, her tone softening slightly. “you’ll hear all about it when the date’s over, i’m sure. you’re overthinking this.”

“i have an idea,” vi said suddenly, the words spilling out before she’d fully thought them through.

“oh no.”

a slow, mischievous grin pulled at vi’s lips, and her pacing stopped. her fingers flexed at her side as a plan began to form. it wasn’t smart. it wasn’t subtle. it was terrible. “how quickly can you come over?”

“vi, whatever you’re thinking—”

“just get here.”

——

“i can’t believe you’ve dragged me into this,” caitlyn muttered, her voice low and filled with annoyance as she tugged the brim of her cap down further over her face. the fabric shadowed her sharp eyes, which were darting toward the café window like she was already second-guessing her decision to come.

“you love this,” vi said casually, fiddling with the drawstrings of her hoodie.

“no, vi, i really don’t,” caitlyn shot back, her words pointed but softened by a resigned sigh.

as they approached the café entrance, vi glanced inside, her eyes instantly locking onto you. there you were, seated across from somone who smiled at you. vi hated them already.

caitlyn slipped into a barstool near the window, unfolding a newspaper she’d grabbed from the stand out front. her face was completely hidden behind the thin pages. vi, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as subtle.

her hood was yanked low over her face, and the sunglasses perched on her nose were oversized and crooked, like she’d grabbed them in a hurry. vi hovered awkwardly by the counter, pretending to study the menu even though her eyes kept flicking over to you.

“you’re staring,” caitlyn hissed from behind the paper.

“am not,” vi muttered back, but she didn’t look away.

you were laughing now, that light, effortless kind of laugh that vi rarely saw unless she was the one making you smile. her chest tightened as she watched you tilt your head toward your date, your expression so open, so trusting.

“they’re not even funny,” vi grumbled, narrowing her eyes at your date.

“oh, please,” caitlyn whispered harshly, her exasperation cutting through vi’s muttering. “you’re acting ridiculous. do you even have a plan?”

“i’m working on it,” vi mumbled, finally tearing her eyes away to stare at the drink options on the board. she wasn’t working on anything. she just knew she had to be here—close enough to hear the cadence of your voice.

your date said something else, and you laughed again, this time louder, brighter. vi’s fists curled at her sides as her gut twisted uncomfortably.

“this is a terrible idea,” caitlyn said, sighing heavily as she lowered the paper just enough to glance at vi. “you’re a disaster.”

“shut up,” vi shot back under her breath. but deep down, she knew caitlyn was right.

disaster or not, she wasn’t leaving until your date was over.

#need her so bad #vi’s gauntlets #vi league of legends #violet arcane #vi #arcane vi x reader #vi arcane #vi arcane x reader #vi fanfic #vi x reader #arcane vi #arcane x reader #arcane league of lesbians #faye’s writing ✧˖*°࿐#arcane x female reader #arcane #arcane x you #vi x you

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tealvenetianmask · 1 day ago

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We need some Barbie Wire Analysis . . .

Because for a character with maybe . . . 2-3 minutes of screen time, she sure has an outsized importance in the show. This is rivaled only by Tilla, who we know even less about.

Barbie gets the major callback in the last scene of Season 2. As other bloggers have pointed out, it could have been Fizz, who's a much bigger character so far. Fizz hated Blitz for 15 years, and they were able to finally reconcile-- even though 15 years is still a long time, that would have been, arguably, a more hopeful, comforting story for Stolas to hear.

But Barb, well, she's on his mind. She always is. "I miss her every day."

Barbie's absense, I think, is made more real by the way in which the show introduces her through photos, and she's never overtly mentioned in all of Season 1.

We're told that Blitz has a twin, that they performed together in the circus (or maybe after), and through her non-mentions, that something bad happened.

Then she's in the photo that makes Blitz finally break down at the end of Ozzie's.

I like how the twins mirror each other here. Similar eyes and face shapes, circus marks on their foreheads, pointy teeth, simple joy and enthusiasm. Whatever their lives were like at that time, they experienced it together, and there were good times.

Barb is central to Blitz's loss and his capacity for love.

We finally meet Barb in Unhappy Campers, and the way she's introduced . . . well. Unfortunately a lot of us were so disappointed that Blitz wasn't going to visit Stolas that we couldn't fully process what he was doing. When he first asked about Barb, my first reaction was "who?"

But that hasn't been Blitz's experience. He's just been keeping a major part of his day to day thoughts and feelings from us.

This nurse knows what's up. He's come back again and again to see Barb, and no taser can deter him.

It's such an obvious and central part of his life- missing Barb, trying to reconnect with her, that he seems honestly unaware that he's never told Moxxie about her at all.

It might feel like we're thrown into an emotional family confrontation out of nowhere, but Blitz has gone through years, potentially, of trying to get Barb to talk to him and being shut down. The hurt in his face, how it wears on him, and how he can't bear to give up hope. Well. It's all there.

So at this point, we still don't know Barb deeply. We only know what Blitz has told us, but more importantly, how he reacts to her absence, how he refuses to give up.

It tells us a lot about his stubbornness, the fine line he walks between resilience, hope, and just a pigheaded refusal to give up.

Maybe Barb is a part of why Blitz is like this. Maybe losing her taught him that some things are so important that it's worth never giving up, even if continuing to try is painful.

Maybe there will be a reconciliation, in part or in full.

But honestly, I also won't mind if a lesson Blitz needs to learn is that sometimes you do need to give up on someone you love. For that person's freedom to reinvent themselves. For your own sanity and contentment in life.

And if Blitz does let her go (at least of the practical fight to reconnect)? He'll think of her every day still.

#this story isn't over.#If I have to make a prediction #I suspect it will be a contrast to Stolas and Octavia and that Barb will be the one who never really forgives and comes back #But it would be very interesting to get an actual conversation between Blitz and Barb about what happened #and/or see her relationship with Fizz #I want to know so much more #and I think the show will deliver #my helluva meta #barbie wire #blitz #blitzo buckzo #blitzo #buckzo family #helluva boss #sinsmas #unhappy campers

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depressedcoffeeobsess · 1 day ago

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╰[𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬]

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

summary: they both are oblivious, still glancing at each other.

warnings: james and reader are both idiots in love, reader is more of the shy type. Sorry.

note(s): my first ever james potter fic! I was bored so I wrote this :)

word count: 675 words!

CHRISTMAS SEEMED TO KICK IN faster than usual. The festive activities were being done all around the place. The lights seemed to glimmer brighter than ever this year. Yet again another christmas at hogwarts. This time the halls had been lit up and decorated. The big christmas tree in the middle, complimented with ornaments and tinsle. Mistletoes were at it's usual chaotic way. It seemed to have appeared all around the place when two students were together. Hogsmeade wasn't usually so packed during christmas. But this year the streets were full of people going in all directions.

James potter and his friends, the marauders, were staying at hogwarts too. They didn't have a particular reason, except for james. He was staying because you were staying. Of course sirius knew that. Sirius knew almost every thing at hogwarts. It was like he was dumbledore.

You were having a great day yet. Sneaking out to the kitchens with marlene and mary was your thing. Lily wasn't staying this time around. She had to be with her family. It was sad and upsetting truly, but you tried to have fun with your other friends too. Marlene suggested that they all have hot chocolate and crackers to taste during every winter day. Mary suggested going to hogsmeade to get candy that could get eaten at mid night. You weren't usually the type to cause chaos and mayhem. But for your friends you'd do almost anything.

you would say you were having a bliss starting at James. What could you say? The man was pefect. Head to toe. Every inch of his perfect face seemed to be sculpted by apollo himself. And his body, you couldn't even start with it. His quidditch really worked. And his hair—

“if you keep eye shagging him why dont you just talk to him?” mary was waving her right hand in front of you. “I mean you looked like you were lost” you were. Good guess marlene.

“well, I–I cant talk to him. He'd never feel the same way” you were quite insecure seeing that most of the girls at hogwarts were confident and pretty.

“of course he does. He just doesn't get the time to show it” marlene perked in. That made you feel so much better.

“dont believe her. I mean the part where he likes you back, do. But the other isn't real. He does have time for you” Mary tried to make the current setting brighten up.

“but what if he doesn't?”

“he’s a big jerk—”

As their conversation continued, James was stealing subtle glances at them. More like you. He was trying not to just stare because sirius could fire at him any time. They liked to tease each other. James thought you looked particularly amazing today. He picked up a habit to note down—on his mind—what you were doing everyday.

“Prongs, mate if you are gonna keep looking at her, you might aswell already ask her out” sirius said without a teasing tone. Sirius was being serious.

“you look at her all the time. What's up with her?” no doubt that remus had already caught up to sirius with peter behind him.

“n–nothing is up with her!”

“of course there is nothing up with her” peter rolled his eyes. He was already catching up with it.

“whatever” of course james was scared to admit he liked you. He loved the way your hair was let down loose or just tied up. (I'm so sorry if you are bald. So sorry)

You were constantly glancing around the common room just to look at james. You both were looking at each other secretly. But this one time your gaze lingered on for a bit longer. This one time also happened to be the time james looked at you too. You both had caught each other. For a moment it seemed be that the time had stopped. The ongoing coversations were behind this atmosphere. When you both got to your senses you looked away, blushing furiously with wode eyes. Could that possibly happen one more time? (It is gonna happen)

#james potter x reader #james potter #prongs x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #hp x reader #hp marauders #marauders era x reader #marauders x reader

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chimcess · 2 days ago

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Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Other Tags: Football Player!Hoseok, Teacher!Reader, Firefighter!Namjoon, Older Brother!Namjoon, Architect!Taehyung, Older Brother!Taehyung, Property Developer!Jungkook Genre: Christmas AU, Strangers to Lovers AU, Crack (low-key), Romantic Comedy, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Smut Word Count: 27.1k+ Summary: It's Christmas, but the HOA is being a real Grinch. Hoseok is determined to save the holiday for his niece and nephew, but he'll need some help to pull it off. With a little teamwork from the trio living across the street, he might just be able to outsmart the HOA and make this a Christmas to remember. Warnings: HOA being the devil (wow, what a surprise...), Jealous!Taehyung, Namjoon is so over his shit, Reader too, Tae and Joon are both overprotective, Hoseok is a really great uncle, Halmark Christmas movie ass storyline, strong language, sexual tension, slight public exposure (completely on accident), kissing, tongue kissing, making out, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple positions, protected sex (wrap it up), lowkey soft dom Hoseok, handjob, multiple orgasms, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Happy holidays!

The cold had settled in early this year, and Hoseok felt it in every corner of Colorado. December wasn't even over, but winter had already made itself comfortable, like an uninvited guest who planned to overstay. This wasn't the sharp, biting cold he knew from Illinois—the kind that slapped you in the face and stole your breath. No, Colorado's chill was cunning. It lingered just out of sight, waiting to slip into your bones when you least expected it.

Heated seats in his Land Rover weren't just a fancy perk; they were a necessity. Survival gear, really. His friends teased him about his top three reasons for loving his car. Number one was always the sound system—naturally. But if Namjoon was asking, he'd wax poetic about the impeccable safety ratings.

He hadn't meant to drive four hours from Denver to Salida on a whim. But when his sister Ji-woo called yesterday, her voice frayed at the edges, everything else took a backseat. She'd offered him a home-cooked meal, which was suspicious in itself. Ji-woo didn't cook unless there was a crisis. An invitation for a "warm, homemade dinner" was basically code red.

Without a second thought, he'd tossed an overnight bag into the backseat and hit the road. As he navigated through her labyrinth of a neighborhood—every house a carbon copy of the last—he understood why she always complained about getting lost. It was like driving through a real-life game of Spot the Difference, except there were no differences.

But it wasn't the monotony that made him pause when he pulled up to her house. It was the darkness. No Christmas lights twinkling in the frost, no inflatable reindeer wobbling on the lawn. Nothing. Ji-woo, who usually turned her home into a festive explosion the day after Thanksgiving, had left it bare. Hoseok pulled his jacket tighter as he stepped out, boots crunching on the icy driveway. He knocked on the door, the sound echoing down the eerily quiet street. His breath formed little clouds as he waited, a gnawing worry settling in his stomach.

Across the street, Taehyung squinted through his living room window, eyes fixed on Hoseok. "Someone's at Ji-woo's place," he mumbled, not budging an inch.

In the kitchen, Y/N shook her head with a smile. "She's allowed to have visitors, you know," she called out, balancing a tray of hot cocoa and freshly baked cookies.

"He looks... suspicious," Taehyung grumbled, still glued to the glass.

"Or maybe he's just cold," Y/N teased, setting the tray down on the coffee table. "Come on, leave the poor guy alone. We've got Elf queued up and everything."

Taehyung finally tore himself away from the window, his gaze drifting to the marshmallows melting into the cocoa. "Did you make the cookies with peanut butter chips?" he asked, feigning nonchalance.

"Like I'd forget," Y/N replied, a grin tugging at her lips. "No Kim family recipe skips the peanut butter chips."

He took a bite, his features softening as the familiar taste hit. "Dad would've approved," he said quietly.

"Yeah," she agreed, the moment hanging between them like a delicate ornament.

Back outside, Hoseok knocked again, shivering as a gust of wind snuck past his collar. He was about to fish out his phone when the door creaked open. Ji-woo stood there, her hair piled messily atop her head, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. But when she saw him, a flicker of relief crossed her face.

"You're here," she breathed, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Of course I'm here," he murmured into her hair. "You promised me a dubious home-cooked meal, remember?"

She laughed softly, the sound muffled against his coat. "Come in before you freeze."

Inside, the house felt... empty. Not physically—the furniture was all there—but the usual warmth was missing. No garlands draped over the fireplace, no stockings hung with care. Even the Christmas tree in the corner looked half-hearted, as if it knew it wasn't living up to expectations.

Ji-woo sank onto the couch with a weary sigh. "I think I made a mistake moving here."

Hoseok settled into the armchair across from her. "What's going on? Did the Grinch steal your decorations?"

"Worse," she groaned. "The HOA did."

He raised an eyebrow. "They're anti-Christmas now?"

"More like anti-fun. They have all these rules—no colored lights, no inflatable anything, no decorations that could be considered 'tacky' or 'disruptive.' Everything has to be white lights, tastefully arranged. It's like living in a Christmas museum."

"You're kidding," he said, but one look at her face told him she wasn't.

"The kids are miserable," she continued. "Arabella keeps asking why our house doesn't look 'happy' anymore. Maxwell made a protest sign that says 'We Miss Santa' and wants to picket in front of the HOA president's house."

Hoseok couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, he's got your flair for the dramatic."

"Tell me about it," she sighed. "I tried to explain, but how do you tell a seven-year-old that some people think joy is gaudy?"

He leaned forward. "Have you talked to the HOA? Maybe there's a loophole or something."

Ji-woo rolled her eyes. "Oh, I've talked to them. Rachel McDonald and her sidekick Tiffany Wallace run the place like it's their personal kingdom. They're like the Plastics from Mean Girls, but with power suits and a vendetta against colored LEDs."

"Oh, fantastic," Hoseok mumbled. "Mean girls with a homeowners' association to rule. Just what you needed."

Ji-woo laughed without much humor. "It gets better. Rachel's husband, Jeff? He spends his days flirting with the younger moms at the playground, always going on about how he could've gone pro if not for his 'career-ending car accident.' He was the high school football star, and he never lets anyone forget it."

"Let me guess," Hoseok said, already seeing the picture. "He's one of those guys who peaked in high school?"

"Exactly," Ji-woo confirmed. "And he's a total mess. He almost hit one of the Kim siblings—Y/N, the youngest—after a football game. Drives around drunk like he owns the place."

"Wow," Hoseok muttered, a knot forming in his stomach. "And nobody does anything about it?"

"Small towns," Ji-woo sighed, shrugging. "People overlook a lot, especially when it comes to the so-called golden boy. It's infuriating."

Before Hoseok could respond, a high-pitched voice sliced through the air.

"Uncle Hobi!"

A whirlwind of pink pajamas and tangled black hair hurtled across the room, colliding with his legs like a tiny freight train. Hoseok barely had time to steady himself before Maxwell wrapped his arms around him, nearly toppling them both.

"Whoa there, buddy!" Hoseok laughed, ruffling the boy's hair as he crouched down to hug him properly. Maxwell's face beamed up at him, eyes sparkling with pure joy. "How've you been?"

"Good!" Maxwell chirped, bouncing on his toes. "You're staying, right? You can stay forever now!"

Before he could answer, another figure appeared in the doorway—Arabella, her dark eyes casting a skeptical glance toward the window, as if the lackluster holiday lights were a personal affront. She was more reserved than her brother, but when she saw Hoseok, a small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"Hey, Arabella," Hoseok said gently. "Think I can get a hug from you too?"

She walked over slowly, her steps measured, but when she hugged him, it was warm and sincere. The weight of their little arms around him filled the room with a lightness that hadn't been there moments before.

Just like that, the house felt a little less cold.

They say a watched pot never boils. Turns out, a watched coffee maker isn't in any rush either. Y/N hovered over the machine, silently pleading for it to hurry up—as if her very survival depended on that first cup. And honestly, it did. Without coffee, she was more like a friendly ghost drifting through her own kitchen.

The toaster snapped up with a clatter, launching her bagel into the air. She caught it instinctively, barely registering the motion, and spread a generous layer of garden veggie cream cheese on top. Her eyes kept drifting back to the coffee maker, as if it held all the answers. Finally, it gurgled to a finish, and she poured herself a mug with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred ceremonies.

The first sip was bliss—a warm embrace that chased away the lingering fog in her mind. For a moment, everything was peaceful. No second graders vying for attention, no stacks of ungraded papers looming over her. Just her and the coffee, wrapped in a quiet truce with the morning.

But peace was fleeting.

"That car's still there," Taehyung's voice broke the silence, rough and low like gravel underfoot. He shuffled into the kitchen, more bear than man, still tangled in the remnants of sleep. Before his own caffeine fix, Taehyung was best approached with caution.

Y/N took another sip, unfazed. "They pulled in late last night," she replied evenly, not rising to his grumpy bait.

He grunted, grabbed a mug, tore open a packet of Pop-Tarts, and retreated back to his room, a nocturnal creature avoiding the daylight. Y/N smiled to herself, already looking forward to her morning walk—the one slice of the day that was entirely hers. She laced up her sneakers, threw on a jacket, and stepped outside into the gentle hush of their new neighborhood.

Salida was still strange to her, each house a mirror image of the next, every lawn meticulously maintained. It was pleasant enough but felt more like a pit stop than a destination. Taehyung had found them a good deal here, courtesy of his job, and it served its purpose—a temporary escape while they figured out their next move.

She set off on her usual route, the cold air refreshing against her skin. The fog hung low, turning the streets into a watercolor painting of muted grays and soft edges. She let her mind wander, savoring the solitude.

Then she noticed it—a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. At first, she thought it was a trick of the fog, but there it was again—a figure moving with effortless grace, just enough to catch her eye. Tall and solid, with an athletic stride. One detail snagged her attention more than she'd like to admit: a very, very nice backside.

Y/N felt warmth rise in her cheeks and shook her head, half-amused at herself. Who was that? She didn't recognize him, but then again, she and Taehyung weren't exactly mingling at neighborhood block parties. Taehyung was more invested in keeping tabs on the comings and goings around them—especially since Ji-woo had moved in across the street.

A small smile tugged at her lips as she continued her walk, her heartbeat just a touch quicker than before. The cold nipped at her face, but she hardly noticed. Her thoughts were elsewhere, caught up in that brief, intriguing glimpse.

Would she see him again?

It was a silly thought, and she laughed softly to herself. Still, there was a flutter in her chest—a tiny spark that felt new and welcome. By the time she looped back to the house, her cheeks were flushed, and not just from the cold.

Inside, Taehyung was hunched over his coffee at the kitchen table, looking marginally more awake but no less grumpy.

"What took you so long?" he asked, one eyebrow arched. "And why are you grinning like that?"

She shrugged, aiming for nonchalant. "Just enjoying the morning."

He gave her a skeptical look but didn't press further, muttering something unintelligible as he turned back to his mug.

Y/N just smiled to herself, knowing full well that her morning walks had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

Hoseok pushed open the front door, a gust of cold air following him inside. His lungs burned pleasantly from his morning run, and despite the sweat cooling on his skin, he felt invigorated. December had painted the world outside in shades of white and silver, but inside, the house was warm and smelled like coffee.

"Uncle Hobi, quiet," a small voice scolded.

He looked down to see Arabella standing there, hands on her tiny hips, clad in bright pink pajamas that were a size too big. Her serious expression was almost comical on such a small face.

"Sorry, Ari," he whispered, grinning. He crouched down to her level, arms open for a hug.

She hesitated. "You're sweaty."

He laughed. "Can't argue with that." But before he could retract his offer, she stepped forward and gave him a quick squeeze, then immediately wrinkled her nose.

"Yuck. You need a shower," she declared, pulling back.

"Noted," he said, raising his hands in surrender.

She toddled off toward the living room, probably to her favorite spot by the Christmas tree—the one that looked a bit forlorn without its usual explosion of lights.

Hoseok headed into the kitchen, where Ji-woo leaned against the counter, a mug cradled in her hands. She raised an eyebrow as he entered.

"You're up early," she remarked.

"Couldn't sleep," he replied, grabbing a glass of water. "Too many thoughts buzzing around."

"Ah," she said, taking a sip. "The infamous Hoseok brainstorm."

He grinned. "I've got an idea."

She eyed him warily. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably," he admitted. "But hear me out."

She gestured for him to continue but then scrunched up her nose. "Actually, maybe tell me after you've showered."

He feigned offense. "You and Arabella both. Is my post-run glow that unbearable?"

"It's less 'glow' and more 'glisten,'" she teased. "And yes."

He chuckled, backing out of the kitchen. "Fine, I'll cleanse myself of this so-called glisten."

"Thank you," she called after him.

As he climbed the stairs, his mind returned to his plan. The HOA's ban on colorful Christmas lights was the last straw. Arabella's disappointment each time she looked outside was palpable, and it tugged at him more than he'd like to admit.

Maybe if he could convince Ji-woo to take the kids to their parents' house for the holidays, they'd get the festive experience they deserved. And while they were gone, perhaps he could find a way to negotiate with—or outsmart—the HOA.

After a hot shower, he felt more human. The steam had cleared his head, and he dressed quickly, eager to share his thoughts. Back in the kitchen, Ji-woo was scrolling through her phone, a frown creasing her forehead.

"More HOA drama?" he asked, rubbing a towel over his damp hair.

She sighed, setting the phone aside. "They're sending reminders about the 'holiday decor guidelines.' It's like they have a vendetta against joy."

He poured himself a cup of coffee. "That's why I wanted to talk to you."

She looked up, curious. "Oh?"

He took a sip before speaking. "What if you took the kids to Mom and Dad's for Christmas? Let them have the full festive experience without the Grinch HOA ruining it."

She considered this. "I don't know... They were excited to spend Christmas here."

He nodded. "I get that. But here feels... stifled. They can't decorate the way they want. At least at Mom and Dad's, they can go all out."

She traced the rim of her mug with a finger. "I suppose Arabella would love baking with Mom."

"And Maxwell can help Dad set up the train set," Hoseok added.

A small smile played on her lips. "They would enjoy that."

"Plus," he continued, "I can stay here and see if there's any way to reason with the HOA. Maybe find a loophole or two."

She raised an eyebrow. "You and your loopholes."

He shrugged, grinning. "It's a gift."

She laughed softly. "Alright. I'll talk to the kids."

Relief washed over him. "Great. I think it'll be good for all of you."

As she stood to rinse her mug, she glanced at him. "What about you? Spending Christmas alone?"

He waved off her concern. "I'll be fine. Someone's got to hold down the fort."

She gave him a knowing look. "If you say so."

He leaned against the counter, thoughts drifting to the woman he'd seen on his run that morning. There was something about the way she'd moved, the determination in her stride. He found himself hoping their paths might cross again.

Y/N stepped into the house, shaking off the chill from outside. Taehyung's car was parked at an awkward angle in the driveway—a telltale sign of his mood. Inside, she found Namjoon sitting on the edge of the couch, his posture tense but composed. Taehyung paced the length of the living room, agitation rolling off him in waves.

"Hey," she greeted cautiously.

Namjoon looked over, relief flickering in his eyes. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him."

She set her bag down. "What's going on?"

Taehyung stopped mid-pace. "There's a stranger at Ji-woo's house."

Y/N fought the urge to roll her eyes. "You mean her brother?"

He crossed his arms. "We don't know that."

Namjoon sighed. "Tae, we've been over this. Not every new person is a threat."

"But we have to be vigilant," Taehyung insisted. "Especially after everything."

Y/N felt a pang in her chest. "I get it," she said gently. "But maybe we should give people the benefit of the doubt."

He shook his head. "You didn't see the way he was sneaking around."

Namjoon stood up. "How about this—I’ll go over and introduce myself. Invite them to the community Christmas party. If there's anything off, I'll pick up on it."

Taehyung considered this. "Fine. But be careful."

"I always am," Namjoon assured him. He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. "Y/N, keep an eye on him."

She nodded. "Will do."

After Namjoon left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Taehyung resumed his pacing, though slower this time.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "Just don't want anything to happen. Not again."

She understood. The past had left its marks on all of them. "I know."

He glanced at her. "You think I'm overreacting."

"I think you're protective," she said. "But sometimes that can come across as... intense."

He managed a small smile. "Understatement of the year."

She returned the smile. "Just try to relax a bit. Maybe focus on something else."

He sat down beside her. "Like what?"

She hesitated, then decided to take a chance. "I've been thinking about volunteering at the youth center's holiday event. Could use an extra pair of hands."

He raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe," she admitted. "Is it working?"

He chuckled. "A little."

They sat in comfortable quiet for a moment. Y/N's thoughts drifted to the man she'd seen that morning—the one with the easy smile and kind eyes. She wondered what his story was.

"Earth to Y/N," Taehyung said, waving a hand in front of her face.

She blinked. "Sorry. Zoned out."

"Thinking about your students?"

"Something like that," she replied, not ready to share her musings.

He studied her for a moment. "You seem... different lately."

"Different how?"

He shrugged. "Happier."

She considered this. "Maybe."

"That's good," he said sincerely.

"Thanks." She bumped his shoulder lightly. "See? Not everything is doom and gloom."

He smiled. "I'll try to remember that."

The late afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting everything in a soft, golden hue. Y/N felt a tiny flicker of hope ignite inside her chest. Maybe—just maybe—this Christmas would bring something new, something good.

She glanced over at Taehyung, who was slouched on the couch, half-watching a mindless reality show. He was still brooding, eyebrows knit together in that way that made him look both serious and a little ridiculous.

"So," she said, leaning back and stretching her arms over her head, "do you think Namjoon's going to make it back alive, or should we start assembling a search party?"

Taehyung grunted, eyes never leaving the screen. "Laugh all you want, but when Namjoon returns with the truth, you'll see. Mark my words, Y/N. I'm onto something big."

She hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh, I have no doubt you're onto something."

Life with her brothers was never dull—a constant whirlwind of conspiracies and overreactions. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.

Ji-woo stared at Hoseok like he'd suggested they celebrate Christmas on the moon.

"Absolutely not," she declared, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "I'm not letting those Stepford wives think they've won."

Hoseok could practically see the steam rising from her. That familiar storm brewing in her eyes—a mix of stubbornness and simmering rage. The HOA drama had pushed her right to the edge, and suggesting they spend the holidays at their parents' place was apparently the final straw.

"Ji, it's just a suggestion," he said gently. "The kids might enjoy—"

"The kids don't want to leave their home for Christmas," she interrupted, her voice firm. "And I am not giving Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald the satisfaction."

He sighed, bracing himself as she launched into a tirade. She recounted every passive-aggressive comment, every forced smile, every time they'd conveniently "forgotten" to inform her about some new HOA rule.

"And can you believe Tiffany had the nerve to ask if I was a lesbian?" Ji-woo fumed, her cheeks flushing. "As if it's any of her business! Probably just so she'd have something juicy to share at her next book club meeting."

Hoseok nodded along, his mind starting to wander. It wasn't that he didn't care—he did—but he'd heard variations of this rant many times before.

"And Rachel," Ji-woo continued, her eyes narrowing. "She looks down her nose at everyone, like she's the queen of this suburban prison."

He was just about to suggest they take a deep breath when a knock sounded at the door. Saved by the bell.

Ji-woo paused, exchanging a curious glance with Hoseok before heading to the door. He followed her, curious.

When she opened it, Namjoon Kim stood on the porch, his usual calm smile in place. He looked every bit the part of the friendly neighborhood fire chief, his uniform crisp and his posture relaxed.

"Captain Kim," Ji-woo greeted, her tone shifting to something warmer. "What brings you by?"

"Evening, Ms. Lee," he replied politely. Hoseok noticed the slight wince his sister gave at the use of her married name, but she recovered quickly.

"I was just over at the Kims'—the other Kims," Namjoon added with a chuckle. "Wanted to make sure you knew about the town Christmas party tonight. It's a big deal around here. Santa, caroling, more cookies than anyone should probably eat."

He handed her a colorful flyer, and Ji-woo's face softened as she took it. "That sounds wonderful. The kids would love it."

Hoseok stepped forward, offering a friendly smile. "Mind if I tag along?"

Namjoon turned to him, eyes widening slightly. "Wait a minute—you’re Hoseok Jung."

Hoseok gave a modest shrug. "Guilty as charged."

Namjoon broke into a grin. "My siblings are huge fans. Heck, I’m a huge fan."

Before Hoseok could respond, a small whirlwind barreled into his legs.

"Uncle Hobi!" Arabella squealed, her Elsa pajamas a blur of blue and sparkles as she hugged him tightly.

He scooped her up, her giggles filling the entryway. "Hey there, princess. Shouldn't you be napping?"

She shook her head vigorously. "Can't sleep. No lights."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "No lights?"

Ji-woo sighed. "HOA restrictions. We're not allowed to put up colored lights or inflatables."

"Seriously?" Namjoon's friendly demeanor shifted, a frown creasing his forehead. "That's... unusual."

"That's Tiffany and Rachel," Ji-woo muttered. "They've made it their mission to suck the joy out of the neighborhood."

Hoseok nodded. "Ari loves the colored lights. White ones just aren't the same."

Namjoon looked thoughtful. "Well, that doesn't seem fair. Maybe there's something we can do about that."

Hoseok watched him with interest. There was a quiet determination in Namjoon's eyes, the kind that suggested he wasn't one to let things slide.

"Anyway," Namjoon said, his smile returning as he looked back at Ji-woo. "Hope to see you all at the party tonight. And Hoseok, if you don't mind signing an autograph or two..."

Hoseok laughed. "Not at all. Happy to."

As Namjoon headed back across the street, Hoseok turned to his sister, still holding Arabella in his arms.

"Looks like this town has a few surprises," he remarked.

Ji-woo chuckled, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh, Namjoon? He's just the beginning. Stick around—you'll see."

He raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

She patted his shoulder as she headed back toward the kitchen. "Trust me. You might even start liking it here."

He watched her go, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Maybe this detour wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Namjoon slammed the front door open, the sound echoing through the quiet house like a sudden clap of thunder. Y/N looked up from her book, startled. It wasn't like Namjoon to make a scene—he was the steady one, the calm one. But today, his face was clouded, eyes sharp and determined.

"Taehyung!" he called, his voice carrying up the stairs with an urgency that made Y/N's heart skip a beat.

There was a muffled crash from upstairs, followed by a groan. Moments later, Taehyung appeared at the top of the staircase, hair tousled and eyes bleary. He rubbed at his face, clearly pulled from a deep sleep.

"What's going on, Joon?" he mumbled, starting down the steps. He didn't seem to notice the tension radiating from his older brother.

Namjoon didn't waste a second. "Do you have any idea what kind of company you work for?" he demanded, pointing out the front window toward Mrs. Lee's house across the street. His voice was tight, controlled—but Y/N could hear the anger simmering beneath the surface.

Taehyung blinked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Mrs. Lee just told me that Tiffany and Rachel are preventing her from putting up the Christmas decorations her kids love," Namjoon said, each word clipped. "Apparently, the HOA has banned colorful lights and inflatable decorations. Little Ari is heartbroken."

Taehyung frowned, glancing between Namjoon and Y/N. "I don't handle HOA rules," he said slowly. "I'm an architect, not a policy maker."

"But you work for the development company that runs this neighborhood," Namjoon pressed. "Surely you know someone who can do something about this."

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I mean, I can call Jungkook. He's more involved with that side of things."

"Good," Namjoon said firmly. "Because it's ridiculous that kids can't have Christmas lights because of some overzealous HOA board."

Y/N stood up, hoping to ease the tension. "Maybe it's just a misunderstanding," she offered gently. "HOAs can be tricky with their rules."

Namjoon shook his head. "Whether it's a misunderstanding or not, it needs to be fixed."

Taehyung pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. "I'll give Jungkook a call," he said, already heading toward the kitchen.

As he disappeared from view, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging. Y/N stepped closer.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

He nodded, but his eyes were still stormy. "I just can't stand the thought of those kids missing out on Christmas because of some pointless rule."

She offered a small smile. "You're a good man, Namjoon."

He gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Don't spread that around."

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall.

"By the way," Namjoon said, his tone shifting to something lighter, almost teasing. "I don't think Taehyung realizes who Mrs. Lee's guest is."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Namjoon's eyes sparkled with mischief. "The guy you saw over there this morning? That's Hoseok Jung."

Her mouth fell open. "Wait—the Hoseok Jung? As in the two-time Super Bowl champion?"

He nodded. "The very same."

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, memories of her morning walk flooding back—the tall figure jogging past her, the way he'd moved with effortless grace. She'd noticed him, sure, but she hadn't realized...

"Language, Y/N," Namjoon teased, a smirk tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the grin spreading across her face. "I can't believe it. How did I not recognize him?"

"Probably because you were too busy daydreaming," he joked.

"Hardly," she shot back, nudging him playfully. "Besides, he was wearing a hat and sunglasses."

"Excuses, excuses."

Just then, Taehyung re-entered the room, looking exasperated. "Jungkook's in the shower, but his wife said he'll call me back soon."

"Great," Namjoon replied. "We need to get this sorted out."

Taehyung flopped onto the couch, rubbing his temples. "This HOA stuff is such a headache."

Y/N sat beside him. "We haven't really been paying attention to their rules, have we?"

He shrugged. "We put up a tree inside. That's about the extent of our holiday spirit."

Namjoon crossed his arms. "Well, maybe it's time we all got a bit more involved. Can't let a few grinches ruin Christmas for everyone."

Taehyung glanced at Y/N. "What's got him so fired up?"

She smiled softly. "Mrs. Lee's kids can't put up their decorations. Namjoon's on a mission to fix it."

"And Hoseok Jung is staying with her," Namjoon added, watching Taehyung's reaction.

Taehyung looked blank. "Who?"

Y/N laughed. "Only one of the most famous quarterbacks in football."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't follow sports."

Namjoon shook his head in mock disbelief. "Honestly, Tae. Sometimes I wonder how we're related."

Taehyung smirked. "Well, I got the looks."

Y/N groaned. "And the humility."

Their banter eased the remaining tension, a familiar rhythm that brought a sense of normalcy back into the room.

"I'll talk to Jungkook as soon as he calls," Taehyung promised. "We'll figure something out."

"Thanks," Namjoon said sincerely.

Y/N rested a hand on Namjoon's arm. "You're doing a good thing."

He met her gaze, his expression softening. "Just trying to make sure everyone has a good Christmas."

She nodded. "And we appreciate it."

The doorbell rang, surprising them all.

"Expecting someone?" Taehyung asked.

Y/N shook her head. "No."

Namjoon went to answer it, and moments later, he called back, "Hey, Y/N, it's Mrs. Lee!"

Y/N exchanged a curious glance with Taehyung before heading to the door.

Ji-woo stood on the porch, a tentative smile on her face. "Hi, sorry to drop by unannounced."

"Not at all," Y/N replied warmly. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "I just wanted to thank you all. Namjoon mentioned you were looking into the HOA situation."

"Of course," Y/N said. "We're happy to help."

Ji-woo hesitated. "Also, I was wondering if you'd like to join us for dinner tomorrow night. Just a small get-together. My brother's in town, and it'd be nice to get to know the neighbors."

Y/N felt that flutter in her chest again. "We'd love to."

"Great," Ji-woo said, her smile growing. "I'll see you then."

As she walked back across the street, Y/N closed the door, leaning against it for a moment.

"Well?" Taehyung prompted.

"We're invited to dinner tomorrow," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Awesome," he said, already heading back to the couch. "Free food."

Namjoon gave her a knowing look. "Sounds like an opportunity."

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Maybe."

"Just don't forget to breathe if you meet your football hero," he teased.

"I'll manage," she retorted.

And as she glanced out the window, catching a glimpse of lights starting to twinkle across the street, she allowed herself to hope.

Hoseok glanced in the rearview mirror of his SUV, catching sight of Maxwell practically vibrating in his car seat. The little guy was a live wire, eyes wide and sparkling like he'd just discovered superheroes were real—and they all wanted to be his best friend.

"Guessing those cookies were rocket fuel," Hoseok chuckled. "Pretty sure bedtime's canceled tonight."

"You're really coming with us to see Santa?" Maxwell asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and a dash of hero worship. It was as if Hoseok had just announced they were flying to the North Pole.

"Wouldn't miss it," Hoseok replied, winking. "Gotta make sure Santa knows what's on my list, too."

"Yes!" Maxwell cheered, pumping his tiny fist in the air. Next to him, Arabella hugged her stuffed penguin a little tighter, her eyes dreamy. "Santa..." she whispered, like the name itself was magic.

Beside him, Ji-woo seemed lighter than she'd been in weeks, a soft smile playing on her lips as she adjusted Arabella's hat. The tension from the HOA drama had eased, at least for tonight.

They drove through streets awash in Christmas lights, the colors reflecting off the windows like a kaleidoscope. When they reached the town square, it was as if they'd stepped into a snow globe. Strings of lights crisscrossed above, a giant tree stood proudly in the center, and the air was filled with the scent of cinnamon and hope.

"Look at all the lights!" Maxwell exclaimed, pressing his nose against the glass. He was out of his seat the moment the car stopped, dragging Arabella toward the promise of candy canes and reindeer.

Hoseok spotted Namjoon across the way, deep in conversation with a guy who looked like he could bench-press a car. The man's gaze lingered a little too long on Ji-woo, and Hoseok felt a protective twinge.

"Glad you all made it," Namjoon called out, his smile warm enough to melt the snow. "Santa's about to arrive. You don't want to miss it."

Maxwell and Arabella needed no further encouragement—they darted off, laughter trailing behind them like footprints.

Namjoon turned to Ji-woo, his expression shifting to something more serious. "We're still waiting to hear from Jungkook about the HOA situation. Don't worry, we're on it."

The big guy next to him nodded. "We'll make sure your kids get their Christmas back," he said earnestly.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, catching the familiar glint of recognition—and maybe a hint of rivalry—in the man's eyes. He offered a polite smile, keeping his thoughts to himself.

Before any awkwardness could settle in, the jingle of bells filled the air. Santa had arrived, not in a sleigh but in a decked-out pickup truck that somehow felt perfectly fitting. The crowd buzzed with excitement, kids bouncing on their toes.

Leading the procession was an elf with a bounce in her step and... Hoseok did a double take. Was her skirt tucked into her tights? He felt his cheeks heat up as he realized he recognized that particular shade of embarrassment.

That was jogger girl.

She was mortified, her face the color of holly berries as Namjoon discreetly fixed her skirt. She shot him a grateful, exasperated look. "Thanks, Joon," she mumbled.

"You're killing me, kid," he replied, shaking his head but smiling fondly.

Their eyes met for just a second—just long enough for Hoseok to catch that flicker of recognition, and maybe a bit of horror, in Y/N’s expression. He offered a small, sympathetic smile, the kind that says, It’s fine. We all have moments like this.

Pushing past whatever had unsettled her, Y/N fixed her elf hat and raised her voice, unwavering and bright, “Who’s ready to see Santa?”

A chorus of kids shouted back, “We are!” and just like that, everything felt easier. Arabella, looking serious and determined, walked straight up to Santa and climbed onto his lap without waiting for a nod or a smile. Santa seemed surprised but took it in stride.

“Well, hello there,” he said, steadying her. “What’s your name?”

“Arabella.” She paused, as if making sure he was paying attention. “I want our lights back.”

He blinked. “Your lights?”

“Our Christmas lights,” she explained. “The colorful ones that make our house happy.”

Hoseok felt a tightening in his chest. Arabella always got right to the point. No dancing around what mattered most.

Y/N stepped forward, her voice gentle, “Maybe Santa can help,” she suggested, meeting Hoseok’s eyes for a moment before turning back to Santa.

“Maybe I can,” Santa agreed, handing Arabella a small gift. She took it solemnly, thanked him, and slid off his lap. “Don’t forget,” she reminded him quietly as she walked back.

Ji-woo knelt down to Arabella’s level. “Do you want to open it now?” she asked.

Arabella shook her head firmly. “Max,” she said, making it clear she’d wait for her brother.

“Max, get over here!” Hoseok called, spotting Maxwell still chatting away with Santa, rattling off a mile-long wish list. Max finally darted over, breathless and grinning, and tore into his own present: a Lego police helicopter set. His eyes went huge, and he practically vibrated with excitement, already planning how he’d build it the second they got home.

Arabella, satisfied that her brother was taken care of, carefully unwrapped her gift. Inside was a plush Rudolph with a glowing red nose. Her serious expression softened. She held it up for them to see, then patted the ground beside her. “Read,” she insisted.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He sat right down on the cold pavement and took the little storybook that came with Rudolph. His voice was low and comforting as he read aloud. Everyone around them seemed to settle, leaning in, as if drawn by the warm circle of sound he created. Y/N found herself smiling. There he was, Hoseok—star athlete, local hero—sitting cross-legged in the town square, reading Christmas stories to a little girl who trusted him completely.

Arabella climbed into his lap without a second thought. He adjusted the book, making sure she stayed cozy. This wasn’t some perfect holiday postcard scene; it was just… real. Hoseok had a soft spot for his family. Watching him like this made Y/N’s heart ache in a sweet, unexpected way.

Namjoon, standing beside her, watched too. Pride and tenderness shone through his normally reserved gaze. He might look like the kind of guy who’d keep you at arm’s length, but around family, he melted. Y/N nudged him with her elbow, smiling. “If you keep staring, you’ll turn into a puddle.”

Namjoon chuckled quietly. “Can you blame me? That’s some top-tier uncle behavior.”

Y/N laughed. “You should be taking notes.”

“I am,” he said, straight-faced, which made her laugh again.

Meanwhile, Santa—Seth, actually—wandered off, muttering something about needing an ice pack, looking as if he’d just run a marathon instead of meeting kids all day. Y/N shook her head, amused, and headed back toward Namjoon and Ji-woo.

Namjoon kept half an eye out for Taehyung, who’d disappeared earlier. Taehyung had been trying to reach Jungkook about the HOA mess and the banned Christmas lights. Just then, Taehyung returned, looking both frustrated and determined.

“B’s livid,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s got a lawyer looking into the HOA’s charter.”

Ji-woo sighed, glancing over at Arabella curled up with Hoseok. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Taehyung leaned in, lowering his voice. “Apparently the ban on colored lights was voted in by the homeowners after the fact. But if it was voted in, it can be voted out too.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Five bucks says Tiff and Rachel orchestrated the whole thing. They never let anyone just live their lives without making it about their rules.”

Namjoon’s mouth twitched, annoyed. “If those two are involved, there’s no shortage of shady behavior.”

Around them, the square glowed with holiday lights, kids played with new toys, and Hoseok’s voice continued steady and clear, reading to Arabella. It all felt unexpectedly warm and meaningful. If they had to go head-to-head with a cranky HOA to keep this feeling, so be it.

Hoseok’s voice carried over to them, calm and thoughtful. “If it was voted in, it can be voted out, right?” he asked, looking at Taehyung. Arabella’s head rested trustingly against him, her Rudolph still glowing.

Taehyung sighed. “Yeah, but it requires seventy-five percent approval. And we don’t have voting rights. We never got around to joining the HOA officially, and even if we did now, we wouldn’t be able to vote until next year.”

Y/N frowned. “Why didn’t I know about these votes? I never saw a single notice.”

Taehyung shrugged. “We bought early on. The HOA was still forming. And we don’t use their services—we handle our own lawn care—so we don’t get their updates. The other houses get lawn care and newsletters. We’re sort of on the outside.”

Y/N shot him a look. “Not everyone has the time to peek through blinds and track the neighbors’ every move, Tae.”

Namjoon cut in gently, “Play nice,” his voice carrying that quiet authority that ended squabbles before they started.

Taehyung cleared his throat. “Anyway, we don’t have standing to vote right now.”

Hoseok leaned back, thinking it through, his brow furrowing. “If we’re not part of it, are we even bound by their rules?” he asked.

Taehyung hesitated. “Technically, no. But I’m in a tricky position. Jungkook’s my friend and my boss. I’m supposed to follow the spirit of the rules, set a good example.”

Y/N noticed the determined light in Hoseok’s eyes. He’d just had an idea—that look said as much. And once Hoseok had a plan, he didn’t give up easily.

He straightened up carefully, making sure not to jostle Arabella as she slept against him, and then locked eyes with Taehyung. “I get it—you want to set a good example. But just hear me out. I think I’ve got an idea.”

Taehyung stiffened, like he already knew where this was going. “Hoseok, if this is about—”

“Let him talk,” Y/N said, her voice gentle but steady. “There’s no harm in listening.”

Taehyung exchanged a quick, resigned glance with Y/N—then with Ji-woo—and finally let out a sigh. “Fine. I’ll listen. No promises, though.”

Ji-woo gave Taehyung’s arm a light squeeze, an encouraging smile softening the tension. “Thanks. Sometimes his ideas are… a lot. But you never know, this one might actually be good.”

A small group of neighbors had drifted closer, curious eyes and quiet whispers surrounding them. Hoseok stood there, holding his niece like it was the most natural thing in the world, radiating a calm confidence that felt comforting, even to Y/N. He seemed so at home right here, right now, as if he’d been part of their crowd from the very start.

Hoseok glanced over at Maxwell, who was practically sleepwalking on his feet. “Maybe we should get these two home?” he suggested to Ji-woo, tilting his head toward the sleepy kids.

Ji-woo nodded right away, ushering them forward. “Yes. Let’s move this party back home.”

As they headed down the street, Hoseok shot Y/N a quick wink. It was casual, but it lit a tiny spark in the cold air. Taehyung noticed, of course, and let out a barely contained huff.

“That wink,” he grumbled, as if it might be the first domino in a chain of questionable decisions. Y/N could see that something about Hoseok got under Taehyung’s skin in a way he wouldn’t admit. She bumped his shoulder lightly.

“Relax, Tae,” she teased. “It’s just a wink.”

But Taehyung’s brow stayed knitted. “We’ll see,” he muttered.

Back in Ji-woo’s living room, the mood was tense despite the cozy lamps and the warm hum of the fireplace. Namjoon stood firmly in Hoseok’s corner, championing every idea Hoseok tossed out—like challenging the HOA or rallying the neighbors for a vote. Taehyung tried to get a word in, but every time he did, Namjoon countered with all the reasons they had to fight. He even suggested calling Jimin, their cousin who was the town sheriff, if things turned messy. It was a whole parade of big personalities with strong opinions, and Taehyung looked ready to pop.

Sitting curled up in her favorite armchair, Y/N decided it was time to mediate. “Joon, we hear you,” she said, leveling her gaze at him before looking at Taehyung. “But let’s give Taehyung some space to explain his side. And what if we ask Jungkook and Blair to weigh in too? If they back this plan, maybe Taehyung will feel better.”

Taehyung’s relief was almost tangible. “Yes—please. Call Jungkook and Blair. If we get them on board, I can at least know we’re not going rogue.”

He shot Hoseok an apologetic look. “I know you’ve got to get back to Denver soon,” he said, trying to sound casual but clearly feeling guilty. “I don’t want to mess with your playoff prep. I get that the kids should have a great Christmas. I just need you to understand my side.”

Y/N snorted, unable to resist teasing him a bit. “Tae, you’re sounding so diplomatic I’m waiting for Mr. Berty from fourth grade to show up and give you a gold star.” When Taehyung subtly flipped her the bird, she stifled a giggle.

Sighing dramatically, Taehyung relented. “Okay, fine. I’ll call Jungkook. Blair’s usually the easier sell, anyway.”

Namjoon nodded briskly, making a hurry-up motion. “Don’t just stand there. Make the call.”

Taehyung eyed the clock. “It’s after nine, bro. Isn’t this late?”

Namjoon smirked. “Jungkook doesn’t sleep before midnight, and Blair’s like a wind-up toy that never stops. They’ll pick up.”

With a low groan, Taehyung disappeared into the kitchen, phone already ringing. His muttering faded into the next room.

With him gone, Y/N decided it was time to shift gears. “The kids had such a blast tonight,” she said softly, hoping to ease the tension. “Arabella’s practically welded to that Rudolph, and Max… I mean, good luck getting him to think about anything besides that helicopter set now.”

Ji-woo’s expression warmed. “I’m just glad they had fun. Poor Santa Seth, though. He looked wiped out.”

Namjoon laughed. “Don’t worry about Seth. Beth’s probably got him on a steady regimen of ice packs and hot chocolate. That man’s taken bigger hits. Kids can be ruthless.”

Hoseok chimed in, his tone curious. “I saw there was a food drive. Is there a big need around here?”

Namjoon’s easygoing demeanor faded slightly as he explained. “It’s better now than a few years ago, but this place took a hit. The mill closed down some lines, people lost jobs. Recovery’s slow. Especially this time of year.”

Y/N nodded, voice quieter. “Lots of families are on the edge. You’d be surprised how many work full-time but still can’t get by. I’ve volunteered at the food bank. People slip through the cracks.”

Hoseok’s brow creased thoughtfully. “That’s awful. Every place I’ve played, I try to give back. My old coach used to say, ‘They show up for us, we show up for them.’ It stuck with me.”

A small smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. “Your coach sounds like a good person.”

Hoseok grinned. “One of the best. He’d ream me out after a bad game, but he never missed a chance to remind me what really mattered.”

Ji-woo laughed. “When he got drafted, I’m not sure who cried more—Coach or Dad.”

Just then, Taehyung reappeared. He looked relieved—less tense around the eyes. “Blair says they’ll be here tomorrow after five. Her dad’s visiting—first holiday without her mom—so they’re hosting him, but they’ll swing by.”

Namjoon raised his eyebrows. “Walter Reid’s a big name. When he weighs in, people listen.”

Y/N leaned over, giving Taehyung a quick side hug, feeling the unspoken weight he’d been carrying. “You’ve done everything you can.”

Namjoon nodded approvingly. “You did good, Tae.”

Ji-woo and Hoseok nodded too, their quiet solidarity reassuring him. And Taehyung, for the first time that night, allowed himself a long, steady breath and a small, hopeful smile. Maybe this Christmas would turn out all right after all.

The next evening, Jungkook and Blair Jeon showed up, each of them so strikingly different that Y/N’s head spun a little just looking at them. Jungkook was tall, solid as a cedar, with neatly combed black hair and eyes so warm and steady they felt like a campfire you could settle around for hours. He was the kind of person who didn’t waste words—he only spoke when it counted, and when he did, everyone leaned in.

Blair, meanwhile, was all sparks and fizz—blonde curls that bounced with every step, bright blue eyes that darted around the room, making sure she never missed a thing. She didn’t have to say a word to shift the energy; her presence alone brightened corners that had been dull five seconds ago. Even with their differences, it was clear they both cared fiercely, like they shared a quiet agreement: kindness first, always.

And then there was Walter Reid, Blair’s father, who seemed to take up more space than he actually occupied. He was tall and broad, his silver hair perfect, his face etched with lines that said he’d lived through more than anyone else in the room. He didn’t bother with unnecessary smiles. He didn’t need them—his eyes said he could see right through every half-truth and polite lie.

As Y/N explained the plan to bring back the Christmas lights that the HOA had so rudely snuffed out, Walter watched silently, his gaze like a judge’s final verdict waiting to be delivered. Ji-woo flipped through old photos, spreading them like evidence on a coffee table: once upon a time, this neighborhood had shimmered in December. Now, thanks to a few power-hungry board members, it looked like Christmas had decided to skip town.

Blair was practically hopping with frustration. “I’m telling you, Tiffany and Rachel are behind this,” she said, jabbing a photo as if it might give in and confess. Y/N nodded, unsurprised. Tiffany Wallace and Rachel McDonald were the type who wanted things their way and never bothered to pretend otherwise.

Hoseok stood beside Y/N, noticing—despite his best efforts—how good she looked in that cozy sweater and jeans. He tried to refocus, to catch up on whatever Walter and Blair were discussing. But it was hard when Y/N looked so at ease here, like this room and these people and these problems were all part of some soft tapestry he’d just been invited into.

“Babygirl, let me see those charter amendments,” Walter said to Blair, voice low and gravelly. Blair handed over the papers, still scowling. Walter’s eyes skimmed the text. “Recent changes,” he murmured. “Voted in by a slim majority. That means it wouldn’t take much to push them back out.”

Jungkook leaned in, nodding. “We just need the neighbors on board. Half of them probably don’t even know the rules changed. If we show them what’s going on, we could turn this thing around.”

Blair’s mood shifted from fury to determination in a flash. “Then that’s what we do,” she said, clapping her hands. “We bring them all in. We light the match.”

Y/N smiled, relieved. “We’ll organize a meeting. Show them they have a choice. People want Christmas back—they just need to believe they can have it.”

Hoseok grinned too, leaning forward, his voice warm. “I can help. I mean, I’ve got a few fans who might show up if it means Christmas lights and a selfie or two.”

Y/N glanced his way, heart feeling unexpectedly full. He wanted to be part of this, part of her world. It was a small thing—just lights, really—but something about the way he jumped right in touched her.

Walter eyed them all, unmoved, as if still deciding if this fight was worth the trouble. “What’s this got to do with me?” he asked flatly.

“Daddy, it’s not right,” Blair repeated, for maybe the hundredth time that night, each time with the exact same fierce conviction.

Jungkook rested a calming hand on her shoulder. “Let your dad take a look, Blair. We need his advice.”

Blair huffed, but she let Walter read. He turned pages with the careful patience of a man who’d picked apart trickier contracts in his time. When he finally spoke, his words were measured: “If you go public, you might draw attention you don’t want. The media could twist this. Make the HOA look like victims. Could complicate other projects in the pipeline.”

Blair looked ready to explode. “Who would side with the HOA?” she demanded, incredulous.

Walter’s gaze shifted to Hoseok, and this time his tone was almost fatherly. “You’re not just any guy off the street, kid. You’re a Seahawk. Your team’s PR isn’t going to love seeing you in a local tug-of-war.”

Hoseok grimaced, realizing Walter had a point. “I’ll check with them,” he said, sounding reluctant.

A tense hush settled over the room until Namjoon stepped out quietly. When he returned, he had Arabella in his arms, half-asleep and clinging to Rudolph. Y/N shot him a questioning look, but Namjoon just smiled and walked over to Walter.

“This is Ari,” he said softly. “Ari, meet Mr. Reid.”

Arabella blinked, clutching her Rudolph and peering at Walter with big, curious eyes. She gave him a tiny wave, all quiet courage and bedtime drowsiness.

Namjoon set her down next to the photos. Arabella, so serious for someone so small, pointed at the pictures. “Lights,” she said firmly, “Santa. Fix. Please.”

You could almost see Walter’s armor crack. He let out a weary sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. “Oh hell. Fine. Just keep it low-key, all right?”

Namjoon’s grin could have lit up a stadium. “Thank you,” he said, clapping Walter on the shoulder. Walter rolled his eyes, but there was a hint of amusement there. “I knew you wouldn’t say no,” Namjoon teased lightly. “Marine training teaches you how to get results.”

Arabella squealed, hugging Namjoon’s leg. Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Maybe things were still complicated, and maybe they’d have to tread carefully. But at least they had a green light. At least they weren’t alone.

Hoseok’s eyes found Y/N again. He liked the way her smile looked in the soft lamplight. Liked that he was seeing her not just as some passing figure in his off-season life, but as someone he wanted to know more deeply. There was a story beginning here—one that he hoped they’d have time to tell.

Later that night, Y/N stood on her front lawn, arms folded over her coat, taking it all in. The new decorations weren’t over-the-top, but they were just enough. An eight-foot inflatable Santa beamed merrily at the snow, and multicolored lights wound around the porch and windows like cheerful ribbons. The whole place glowed. Across the street, Arabella pressed her hands and nose against the window, eyes gone huge with delight. Y/N smiled, feeling a tiny spark inside her chest—this was Christmas at its best, all bright colors and gentle wonder, nothing more complicated than a kid’s joy.

Walter had already taken off back to Denver, warning Y/N to brace for any fallout. But Y/N wasn’t worried. She knew how small towns worked: people loved their drama soft and manageable, like a soap opera they could switch off after dinner. Tiffany and Rachel would probably have plenty to say, but real consequences? She doubted it. If anything, it would all just turn into good old-fashioned grocery aisle gossip.

Inside, she could hear laughter drifting in from the living room. By the time she slipped back in, Blair had commandeered the couch—three glasses of wine deep—and was grinning at the ceiling like it had just told her the best joke in the world. Y/N had barely shut the door when Blair’s voice floated through the room, slurred and enthusiastic:

“He’s hot. You should totally tap that.”

Y/N stumbled, wide-eyed, nearly dropping her keys. “I’m sorry, what now?”

Blair rolled her head toward Y/N, eyes sparkling with a wine-soaked confidence. “Hoseok Jung!” she repeated, waving a hand dramatically. “Girl, hop on that train. Enjoy the ride.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flare with heat. Blair’s bluntness wasn’t new, but this was... a lot. “Blair,” she sputtered, trying for stern and failing. “He’s leaving tomorrow. He’s got a life in Denver, and I have classes. It’s not exactly a meet-cute that’s going to last, okay?”

“Ugh, whatever,” Blair said, swiping the air dismissively. “You can teach and have a life. And if he’s half as good in bed as he is on the field, you’re basically signing up for fireworks.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. She glanced around as if the furniture might be judging her. “Blair!” she hissed, but a laugh slipped out despite her best efforts.

Blair smirked, taking another sip of her “truth juice.” “Oh, come on. After that jerk Garrett took off with Kate, don’t you think you deserve a little... holiday cheer? I’m not suggesting you run away and elope, just... sample the goods. I saw the way Hoseok looked at you.”

Y/N snatched at Blair’s wineglass, but Blair evaded with surprising agility for someone so tipsy. “I think you’ve had enough,” Y/N said, breathlessly, cheeks still warm.

Blair raised a brow, wiggling it like some kind of cartoon villain. “Don’t try to silence me. You know I’m right. You’ve been Miss Responsible for way too long. Let your hair down. Have fun. Specifically, have fun with a hot football player who’s clearly into you.”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh, reaching again for the glass. This time Blair conceded with a playful sigh, handing it over. “Fine, fine,” Blair said, leaning back like a starlet. “But remember my words when you’re old and gray: truth flows from the grapes.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, still smiling as she set the wine on the counter. But just as quickly as she dismissed Blair’s teasing, Hoseok’s face floated into her mind. She could picture him so clearly—his easy grin, the way he’d settled on the floor to read to Arabella, how natural he’d looked in this little world that wasn’t his. And, okay, yes... that spark in his eyes when he’d looked her way.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to talk herself down. He was leaving tomorrow. Their lives were galaxies apart. He was... famous, for crying out loud. And she was a teacher with a comfortable, ordinary life. It’s just a silly crush, she told herself. A harmless holiday daydream.

From the couch, Blair’s voice drifted lazily: “I saw that look! You’re into him.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, flicking off the kitchen light and grabbing a blanket. She returned to the living room and draped it over Blair’s shoulders. “Go to sleep, B,” she said softly.

Blair’s eyes fluttered half-closed, a grin still tugging at her lips. Y/N watched her friend settle into a dozy contentment. The room fell quiet, the only sounds a distant car on a snowy street and the soft hum of the heater. For a moment, it felt like the whole house was holding its breath.

Y/N sank onto the edge of the recliner, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. She tried to imagine what tomorrow would feel like. Hoseok would head back to Denver, back to his team, his life. She’d keep teaching, keep living in this small town full of neighborly squabbles and cozy holiday traditions. Was there a chance something could cross the space between them?

Probably not. But it sure was nice to think about—even if only for tonight. It made her feel warm, a little bit braver, and just maybe, a tiny bit closer to the kind of magic that made ordinary people do extraordinary things.

Hoseok couldn’t get Y/N out of his head. It was like his mind had just grabbed onto the memory of her laugh and refused to let go. The way her grin tilted when she teased her brother, that quick, light-in-her-eyes smile—it all played on a loop behind his eyelids whenever he blinked. Plus, the way she moved, so confident and at ease, made him feel like some eager understudy watching a lead he was dying to impress.

And now, there she was, standing in her front yard, facing down two furious blondes as if they were yapping dachshunds trying to nip at her ankles. He could practically see the invisible line she’d drawn—You shall not pass!—and it made him grin. She looked fierce and steady, even as Blair, three glasses of wine in, half-waltzed, half-wobbled behind her, sloshing red liquid in dangerous arcs.

Inside, Ji-woo hovered near the window, hand poised over the curtain like she wanted to intervene but wasn’t sure if she should. Hoseok got it. Ji-woo had seen enough drama in her life, and from what he understood, some scars still felt fresh. She wasn’t big on conflict, not anymore.

“I’ll go,” Hoseok said, shrugging into his jacket. He could feel Ji-woo’s relief before she even answered. He’d offered partly to help Y/N, partly because he was, let’s face it, pretty smitten, and partly because he just hated seeing Y/N out there alone, dealing with what looked suspiciously like Mean Girls: Christmas Edition.

“Are you sure?” Ji-woo asked, voice low. She bit her lip, glancing out at the scene.

“Yeah,” Hoseok said simply. “I kind of got them into this. The least I can do is back them up.”

He stepped into the chilly night and caught the tail end of the blondes’ complaints. One waved a piece of paper at Y/N, like it was a holy writ and not just a crumpled memo. Blair was still in the background, humming something off-key and offering her wine bottle to an inflatable Santa.

Y/N sighed, exasperated. “Blair, maybe it’s time to go inside.”

Before Blair could respond, she spotted Hoseok like he was the second coming of Christmas. “There he is!” she crowed, pointing. “Hoseok Jung, Y/N! You gotta tap that ass, girl!”

Hoseok nearly choked on a laugh, managing to keep a straight face with heroic effort. He plastered on his best “professional athlete” smile—confident, friendly, utterly unbothered by chaos—and stepped beside Y/N. “Evening, ladies,” he said, voice low and calm. “Is there a problem here?”

The shorter blonde’s eyes went cartoon-wide. “Oh my god, you’re Hoseok Jung!” she squealed, as if she’d just met a unicorn holding a stack of Super Bowl tickets. The other blonde—taller, more scowly—floundered for a moment, caught between annoyance and fangirl bewilderment.

“Yes, that’s me,” he said, tucking his hands in his jacket pockets like it was no big deal. He nodded toward the decorations, the twinkling lights that had caused all this fuss. “My sister lives across the street. Y/N and her friends put these up for her kids. It’s Christmas—just trying to bring a little cheer.”

The taller blonde, Rae, tried to hold onto her scowl but ended up somewhere between a grimace and a pained smile. “They still break HOA rules,” she grumbled, but her tone had lost its teeth.

Hoseok tilted his head, the very picture of reasonable concern. “Y/N doesn’t belong to the HOA, though, right?” he said mildly. “Seems like a misunderstanding. Maybe you could schedule a meeting? I’m heading back to Denver, but Monday’s my day off. I’d be happy to join a neighborhood discussion. Clear the air.”

The blondes exchanged a look that said: We just got invited to a party with a celebrity. Rae cleared her throat. “Monday at seven might work,” she conceded.

“Perfect,” Hoseok said, with a smile so genuine it could’ve warmed a glacier. The shorter blonde sighed dreamily. Rae just nodded, all her bravado melted like butter on hot toast.

Behind them, Blair muttered something triumphant—something involving “bitches” and “booyah”—then promptly leaned against Santa, trying to give him a taste of her wine.

When the blondes drifted off, possibly to brag about their Monday meeting with Hoseok Jung, he turned to Y/N. “Need a hand with Blair?” he asked, already moving to steady her.

Y/N gave him a grateful, lopsided smile. “Please. She’s on a roll tonight.”

Hoseok scooped Blair up like a rowdy toddler and carried her toward the house, Blair giggling and whispering nonsense about quarterbacks and “naughty Santa” in his ear. The whole scene felt like a snapshot from a cozy indie movie—Christmas lights glowing soft around them, warm laughter inside, and Y/N at his side, her eyes dancing with amusement.

Once inside, he deposited Blair gently on the couch. Y/N straightened a bit, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks,” she said softly, arms folding across her chest. “She’s great, but... a handful when she’s had too much wine.”

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve seen worse tailgate parties,” he teased. “She’s entertaining.”

Y/N watched her friend burrow into the couch cushions, still clutching the wine bottle as if it were a cherished teddy bear, then turned back to him. Her expression had changed—softened, relaxed. “I guess I owe you one,” she said.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, grinning. “I think we’re even. But I’ll keep the ‘tap my ass’ suggestion on the table,” he added, voice low and playful.

Y/N flushed pink and let out a scandalized laugh. “I can’t believe she said that,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hand for a second.

He shrugged, eyes never leaving hers. “She’s not entirely wrong,” he said, pretending to examine the lights on the wall. “I am pretty tappable, from what I hear.”

She rolled her eyes, giving his arm a gentle, playful shove. “You’re trouble, Jung.”

“Good trouble,” he countered, quiet and sure, something warm slipping into his tone.

In that moment, the world outside seemed to vanish. It was just the two of them in the soft glow of the Christmas lights, Blair’s faint snores in the background, and the distant hum of small-town life wrapping around them like a cozy scarf. Maybe he’d be back in Denver soon, and maybe they lived in different spheres. But right now, Y/N was right here in front of him, and he was more than happy to be a little trouble in her world.

With Blair sound asleep and softly snoring, Y/N suddenly realized something crucial: she was alone with Hoseok. The very Hoseok who’d heard Blair, in her infinite drunken wisdom, tell her to “tap that ass.” Fantastic. Just the scenario you dream of, right?

The air felt charged, like the hush after a good joke and right before everyone breaks into laughter. Y/N tried to find her footing in what always comforted her—simple hospitality. “Want something to drink?” she blurted, her voice coming out way too eager, like she was offering a lifeboat instead of a beverage.

Hoseok smiled, and there was just a hint of mischief in it. “Beer?” he suggested, eyebrows raised like he was testing her.

“Beer. Right. Coming up,” she said, grateful for something to do besides melt on the spot. She practically darted into the kitchen. “Is Corona okay?” she called, relieved to be behind the open fridge door, where he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

“Got a lime?” he asked, voice smooth enough to make her heart skip twice.

“Yeah, from taco night,” she said, rummaging around. “Taehyung’s obsessed with the whole lime-and-Corona thing. I think it makes him feel like he’s on some tropical beach, instead of here where the big excitement is a holiday HOA debate.” She rolled her eyes at herself, then handed him the bottle and wedge of lime.

“Nothing wrong with pretending,” Hoseok said, leaning against the counter. His gaze followed her movements so closely that she almost felt like a painting he was admiring. “So… you and Taehyung—twins?”

Y/N laughed as she twisted open her own soda. “Not quite. We’re a year apart. People at school called us the ‘Kim twins’ anyway. He’s tall and broad, and I’m built like my halmeoni. Still, I grew up hearing, ‘Oh, you must be Taehyung’s sister!’ which was my personal favorite.”

Hoseok smiled, something soft and understanding there. “My family’s scattered everywhere. Mom and Dad are in England right now, visiting my uncle. I’m grateful we all stay connected, even if it’s at weird distances.”

Y/N couldn’t help a grin. “Did you pack tights for the trip?” she teased, recalling something about England and stadium traditions—though maybe that was rugby.

He snorted, eyes crinkling. “The closest I have are my uniform pants. Not quite the same look.”

Uniform pants. Y/N’s thoughts took a brief, traitorous journey to how Hoseok probably looked in those uniform pants, and she nearly choked on her soda. Perfect timing, Blair mumbled something incomprehensible from the couch, followed by a muttered “Biotch,” and Hoseok burst into laughter so warm it filled the entire kitchen.

Y/N shook her head, fond but exasperated. “This is mild for her. Last time she hit the tequila, we found her on the roof trying to talk the moon down for a midnight chat. She was, um… not clothed.”

Hoseok’s laughter turned breathless, forcing him to set down his beer. “You’re kidding.”

Y/N held up her hands. “Swear. We got her down eventually, but not before she tried to sing a love ballad to a very startled raccoon.”

They both laughed, but then the mood shifted slightly as Y/N’s smile took on a sympathetic tilt. “This year’s been tough for her. First Christmas without her mom, plus they’re trying to start a family. I think it all just hit her tonight.”

Hoseok’s expression turned gentle, the understanding deepening. “Life sneaks up on you sometimes.”

A soft hush settled between them, a moment that felt more meaningful than anything they’d said. The twinkling Christmas lights in the other room cast a friendly glow, and Y/N wondered if this was how new memories formed—quietly, unexpectedly, in small-town kitchens while someone snored on the couch.

She cleared her throat, feeling the moment tiptoe toward something more intense. “Another beer?” she offered, holding the fridge door open like a shield.

Hoseok shook his head. “One’s enough. I try not to drink too much during the season. Gotta keep my focus.”

“Right, football and all,” Y/N said, stepping back and finding him suddenly closer—so close, in fact, that the scent of him was all warm fabric and subtle cologne. She almost squeaked in surprise but managed to keep it together.

Her breath caught as their eyes met, and suddenly he was there, right there, tilting his head so their faces nearly touched. If she’d wanted to move back, she couldn’t have—she was drawn in, completely, like gravity had decided this exact moment was too perfect to resist.

Then he kissed her. A soft, searching kiss that felt like a secret spoken aloud for the first time. She melted into it, her hands curving over his chest, feeling the heat of him through his sweater. His arms found her waist, and the gentle tension between them turned into something bright and urgent. She barely registered when he lifted her onto the counter, their breaths mingling, his kisses trailing softly down her neck, sending electric sparks skittering beneath her skin.

It was quiet and magical and everything she never knew she wanted at that exact second—until the clomping sound of boots in the hallway snapped her back to reality.

“Hey, Y/N, we got any food?” Taehyung’s voice drifted in, casual and clueless, like a bowling ball striking pins of romantic tension.

They pulled apart as if someone had flipped a switch. Y/N’s heart hammered in her chest, and Hoseok’s eyes were still dark and a little dazed. They stared at each other, caught in the aftermath of a perfect, impossible moment.

Taehyung’s footsteps got louder, heading their way. Y/N’s heart sank and soared at the same time. She shot Hoseok a look that said, We are so busted, and tried to smooth her hair, tried to pretend she wasn’t just thoroughly kissing a very famous, very attractive quarterback on her kitchen counter.

As Taehyung popped into view, Y/N forced a bright, shaky smile. But inside, a thousand thoughts danced and collided: He’s leaving soon, we barely know each other, what just happened, what does this mean, oh god oh god oh god.

She met Hoseok’s gaze one more time, and there was that spark again, a promise unspoken. Y/N swallowed hard, knowing her heart might never be the same.

After the kiss—that one kiss that had nearly knocked the air right out of Hoseok’s lungs—it was all he could think about. The memory of Y/N’s lips on his, the way she fit so perfectly against him, how the world had narrowed down to just the two of them… It was like stepping into a lightning storm and being thrilled instead of terrified. Now he was back in Denver, and it felt unreal. Had it been a dream? The more he replayed it, the more he wondered if she was slipping from tangible reality into wistful memory.

He hadn’t seen her since. Not once. He hadn’t even gotten her number—who did that in this day and age? It wasn’t until Monday, as he was sitting behind the wheel, driving back into the heart of Salida, that he realized how much was still unsaid. He’d told himself the HOA meeting was what drew him back, but deep down he knew better. He was here because of her, because he needed to know if that kiss had spun her world off its axis the way it had spun his.

Pulling into Ji-woo’s driveway, he couldn’t help but look straight across the street at the Kims’ house. Twinkling lights decorated the front yard in a way that seemed to laugh at the stuffy HOA rules. Arabella spotted him from the porch and let out a squeal that lit up her entire face—her delight so real and honest it warmed him from the inside out. Family was why he’d returned; he reminded himself of that. But even as he swept Arabella into a bear hug, laughing as she pointed excitedly at the lights, his mind drifted to another face entirely.

Ji-woo caught his eye, smirking just a little, like she knew exactly what was going on in that head of his. “She’s been waiting for you,” she said, voice light, but her tone held a deeper note—an understanding, maybe even approval.

Arabella waved at the lights, riled up with holiday glee. “Uncle Hobi, lights!” she insisted, as if he hadn’t noticed them glowing in the twilight.

“That’s right, kiddo,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m gonna do my best to make sure they stay right where they are.” Arabella’s grin was like a stamp of approval all on its own. Still, his mind kept wandering, drifting across the street, wondering if Y/N was inside right now, maybe looking out the window, remembering their last encounter the way he did.

He tried to ground himself with small talk. “Did you catch the game yesterday?” he asked Arabella, fully aware of her likely answer.

“No ball!” she announced primly, wrinkling her nose like football was the lamest invention ever. Hoseok chuckled and set her down, just in time to see a familiar Kia pulling into the Kims’ driveway.

Y/N stepped out, looking effortlessly put together in grey slacks and a soft pink sweater, a black coat draped over her arm. She moved with a kind of quiet grace that made Hoseok’s heart skip. From the way she carried herself, to the gentle curve of her smile—he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Hey, neighbors!” she called, voice ringing softly through the crisp air. “Ready for tonight?” There was that easy warmth to her tone, the slightest lift at the end like an invitation.

Hoseok tried for nonchalance, even as his pulse fluttered. “Looking forward to it,” he said, hoping he sounded as smooth as he was trying to be.

Her gaze lingered on him a heartbeat longer than necessary. “If you want to come by beforehand, Tae’s making pizza, and I’ve got brownies.” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her eyes flicked to him again, and the corner of her mouth curved in a secret smile that set off sparks under his skin.

Arabella squealed, clearly sold at the mere mention of brownies. Ji-woo laughed, holding her back. “I think she likes your idea,” she said, and Y/N answered with a light laugh of her own.

“Come whenever,” Y/N said, still looking at Hoseok. “Unless you have other plans?” There was a playful note in her voice, a gentle challenge. He swallowed, trying to find words, but Ji-woo jumped in first.

“Oh, we’ll be there,” Ji-woo said decisively, shooting him a look that said Don’t even think about backing out, buddy.

Y/N gave a small nod, that small smile still in place, before heading inside. Hoseok watched her go, his mind whirring with a hundred questions, a thousand hopes. He’d barely stepped foot back in town, and already they had dinner plans. He didn’t know what tonight would bring, but he was buzzing with anticipation—like he was on the field, seconds before the play that could change everything.

“Dinner with the Kims, huh?” Ji-woo teased, eyebrows raised, her voice sing-song with suggestion. Maxwell appeared out of nowhere, eyes big. “Did someone say brownies?”

Hoseok ruffled Maxwell’s hair absently. “And pizza,” he said, though he was only half-present. His thoughts were already across the street, trying to parse every smile, every lifted eyebrow Y/N had offered.

Inside the house, he could feel the warmth of family wrapping around him—but tonight, he wanted more than that. He wanted a moment alone with her. He needed to know if that night in the kitchen, their kiss full of promise and possibility, was just a beautiful blip… or the start of something bigger. Tonight, he might just find out.

Inside, Y/N felt like every one of her nerves had decided to start a chorus line on her spine. Holy hell—Hoseok was back in town, and he looked better than any memory could do justice. Her thoughts skittered around that kiss they’d shared once, the kiss that still had the power to make her heart pound whenever it popped into her head. She’d replayed it in her mind more times than she’d care to admit, always wondering if it had knocked him off-balance as much as it had rattled her. And now he was here, standing at her door again. If there was any fairness in the world, they’d get a second take on that unforgettable moment.

But first, there was her brother. Taehyung had a flair for throwing a wrench into her plans. “Tae!” she hollered up the stairs, trying not to sound frantic. “Get down here! Ji-woo, Hoseok, and the kids are on their way, and Joon’s coming, too!”

“Already in the kitchen, sis!” came his voice, and relief swam through her. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a chaos-fest after all.

She found him amid a pizza-making operation so elaborate it could’ve been a culinary art exhibit. Pizza crusts spread out like blank canvases, toppings arranged in tidy rows, Taehyung wielding an olive oil brush as if he were painting a masterpiece. He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a casual shrug.

“I figured the kids could make their own pizzas,” he said, as if it were no big deal. “We can handle a few personal pies at once.”

Y/N stepped closer, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You know, you can be really sweet, Tae,” she teased, going in to pinch his cheek. He dodged with a mock-flex of his bicep.

“And don’t forget good-looking,” he tossed back, striking a ridiculous pose that made her roll her eyes.

“Stop that,” Y/N said, stifling a laugh. “You’ll scare the kids.”

They laughed together, comfortable and teasing, until the doorbell rang. Y/N ran a quick hand through her hair, adjusted her bra strap, tried to look casual. For the kids, sure, but mostly for their uncle. She flicked on the Christmas tree lights and opened the door just in time to see Maxwell rocket inside, followed by Ji-woo wielding a giant salad bowl. And then, Hoseok. He entered with Arabella perched in his arms, the sight of him so effortlessly handsome that Y/N’s breath hitched. Seriously, how did he manage to look even better than the last time?

“Brought salad,” Ji-woo announced, smiling warmly.

“Perfect,” Y/N said, ushering them all in. “We’ll need something green to balance all the carbs.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “Tae’s got a pizza station set up. The kids can go wild.”

Maxwell and Arabella shot off like tiny comets, squealing at the prospect of decorating their own pizzas. Arabella paused only to nod solemnly at Y/N’s Christmas tree, as if granting it royal approval, before joining her brother.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something else—but then she felt a gentle tug on her hand. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Hoseok, standing much closer than expected. His eyes held a warm gleam, and she felt a flutter low in her stomach.

“Hi,” he said softly, voice pitched for her ears only.

“Hi,” she managed, just before he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers—a light, quick kiss that somehow still rattled her bones. It was shy and bold all at once, and it made that memory of their first kiss crackle back to life, reminding her just how good they’d been together.

“You never gave me your number,” he teased, dark eyes dancing.

She feigned nonchalance. “You never asked,” she said, a playful lift in her brow.

“I’m asking now,” he grinned, extending his phone.

She typed her number carefully, trying to keep her fingers steady and her face neutral, then handed it back with a smile. “There, now you have it.”

Before Hoseok could respond, two solid knocks rattled the door. Namjoon stepped inside like a man on a mission, still in his captain’s uniform, scanning the room as if expecting to find mischief afoot.

“Kid, you’ve gotta start locking that door,” he scolded, but Y/N just rolled her eyes.

“It’s Salida, Dad. We’re fine.” She motioned everyone toward the kitchen. “Tae’s making pizza, come on.”

Namjoon’s gaze landed on Hoseok. “Good game, son,” he said, giving a respectful nod. “Pizza ready?”

“Tae’s on it,” Y/N answered, slipping away from Hoseok with a quick, secret smile. She noticed Hoseok’s eyes following her—like he was reluctant to let her out of his sight—and her heart stumbled a little.

Namjoon grunted appreciatively. “If architecture doesn’t pan out, that boy could open a pizzeria.”

Y/N snorted. “Sure, because working for one of the biggest developers in the West isn’t enough for him. He needs a pizza empire.”

As if summoned by his new entrepreneurial calling, Taehyung appeared with the kids, all wearing holiday aprons. Maxwell’s had snowmen, Arabella’s had Santas, and Taehyung’s proudly proclaimed ‘Got Mistletoe?’ Hoseok joined them, kneeling down to admire the toppings. The kitchen swelled with laughter and chatter as everyone piled their pizzas high.

Soon, Ji-woo’s salad was making rounds, and they hovered together, waiting for the pizzas to bake. The air smelled like yeast and tomato sauce and spices. Light bounced off shiny ornaments on the Christmas tree just beyond the kitchen doorway. It felt like the set of a warm holiday special, the kind you watched curled up under a blanket.

Jungkook and Blair arrived, drawn by the promise of good food and the evening’s impending drama at the HOA meeting. Blair was especially giddy, eyeing the brownies and pizza like party favors at a carnival. But Hoseok barely noticed them. He was watching Y/N, watching the way she laughed with her family, the way she moved around the kitchen so naturally, as if this place had a gravity all its own, pulling them all closer.

Namjoon snagged a brownie, chewing thoughtfully before turning to Y/N with a mock-serious glare. “I’m gonna need these at the station’s potluck,” he said, lips quirking into a grudging smile. “Yoongi will have my head if I don’t show up with something good.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Magic word?”

Namjoon made a show of pouting. “Pleease, Sissy?” He drew it out until Y/N burst into laughter. The sound rang bright and clear, filling the room with an easy, loving warmth.

Hoseok leaned back in his chair, completely enchanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at home in a place that wasn’t really his home at all. The memory of their brief kiss hummed in his veins, a promise that maybe this moment, this feeling, didn’t have to be temporary. Maybe it could lead somewhere real.

As he sat there, watching Y/N tease her dad, saw Taehyung and Jungkook ganging up on Namjoon with good-humored glee, and caught Arabella’s serious nod of approval for every single topping choice… Hoseok realized something. He wasn’t just attracted to Y/N. He was drawn to the life around her, the family she was part of, the easy, genuine way she cared for the people in her orbit.

She looked back at him then, as if sensing his thoughts, and in that glance was everything: the memory of their kiss, the humor in their banter, and a hint of something else—something hopeful and warm and bright, like a candle flickering to life in the dark.

Hoseok turned as Taehyung nudged him, offering a fresh plate of brownies with a conspiratorial wink. He took one, smiling as he popped it into his mouth. Sure, there was a meeting later and a hundred unresolved questions. But right now, in this laughing, glowing kitchen, Hoseok could believe that he’d found something worth holding on to—and her name was Y/N.

At the HOA meeting that night, Tiffany and Rachel swept in like it was some Saturday night hotspot—clicking heels, sequined dresses catching the fluorescent lights in a way that felt more tragic than glamorous. Blair had to step outside to control her laughter, and when she came back, her shoulders still shook quietly. The rest of them huddled in folding chairs that squeaked when you leaned back too far, trying not to stare too openly at the spectacle.

Tiffany and Rachel took their seats at the front beside old Scott Watts Sr., who looked about eighty and seemed to be only halfway tuned in. His son, Scott Jr., hovered near him, trying not to look mortified.

“Meeting called to order,” Rachel said in a voice that aimed for regal and landed closer to nasal. She shot Y/N a look that implied the Christmas lights issue was basically a personal vendetta. She even angled a sultry glance at Hoseok, but it landed somewhere between a sneer and the face you make when you realize the milk’s gone sour.

From across the room, Y/N caught Blair’s eye, and they exchanged smirks. If nothing else, this evening would make for some hilarious after-party commentary.

“This is about the clear violation of HOA bylaws,” Rachel droned, lifting her chin, “concerning the Kims’ front yard décor.” She delivered the line like it was a grave sin worthy of excommunication.

“I’ll have the tea,” Scott Sr. mumbled, cutting across Rachel’s speech. People turned and looked at each other in confusion, while Tiffany’s eyes rolled so dramatically Y/N half-expected them to pop out.

Tiffany jumped in next, puffing herself up. “As you know,” she said, “we voted two years ago for strict decoration bylaws to preserve the tasteful image of our neighborhood.”

“Tiff?” Deiondre Park raised her hand from the front row, looking perfectly composed.

“We haven’t opened the floor to comments,” Tiffany snapped, like a principal scolding a rowdy class.

“I believe it’s a clarification, not a comment,” cut in Deiondre’s husband, Jimin, in that measured tone only a traffic judge could master. Tiffany flinched—probably recalling the time she’d tried flirting her way out of a ticket and failed spectacularly.

From the back, someone shouted, “Let her speak!” and murmurings of agreement swelled through the room. Hoseok slid his hand over Y/N’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. A quiet sign: We’ve got this.

“Deiondre,” Rachel said with a huge, fake sigh, “go ahead.”

“I just don’t recall a vote,” Deiondre said, voice steady and confident. “Are there notes from that meeting? Because I’ve never seen them. Nor have I heard these rules mentioned before.”

Heads bobbed, a subtle wave of dissent rippling through the crowd.

“Told you it was shady,” Namjoon whispered to Y/N, crossing his arms. He looked like he was ready to slap metaphorical handcuffs on Tiffany and Rachel.

“I remember something about preferring white lights,” Tanya Hartley called from the back. “Rachel said it was standard for Avalanche properties.”

“Yeah,” Ford Fraserns chimed in, leaning forward with a daring gleam in his eyes. “And who put you two in charge, anyway?”

Rachel stiffened, her shoulders pulling back like a cat about to hiss. “We were voted in, along with Mr. Watts,” she said icily, as if that single sentence held all the authority in the world.

“Where’s that tea?” Scott Sr. mumbled again. This time, more people chuckled quietly. One of the old-timers, Adam Wagener, hollered, “Scotty, turn on your hearing aid!” and got a round of suppressed snorts for his trouble.

“What?” Scott shouted, fumbling with his earpiece. “Are we talking about Christmas lights now?”

“Yep,” Adam said, grinning wide. “And why you’re complaining.”

Scott Sr. threw up his hands. “I’m not! Those two��” he jerked a thumb at Tiffany and Rachel—“kept rattling on about colored lights being trashy. So I turned off my hearing aid. Figured I’d come back when they were done.” The crowd laughed outright now, and Y/N bit her lip to keep it together.

Tiffany flushed, doubling down. “We did have a vote! June 19th, 2022—about community beautification. White lights, no blow-ups.”

“And no gnomes,” Rachel chimed in, glaring at the Lawrences. “No need for entire gnome villages.”

“I’m still with Lee,” James Lawrence retorted. “Who put you two on the throne?”

“We were voted in for four-year terms,” Tiffany said with a smug little smirk. “Two years left.”

Hoseok leaned toward Y/N. “Clueless, isn’t she?” he murmured, amused.

“She lives in her own bubble,” Y/N whispered back, stifling a grin.

Before anyone could continue, Blair nudged Jungkook, and the two of them rose, moving to the front with a steady confidence that quieted the room. Hoseok glanced at Y/N, brows raised. Y/N just shook her head, excitement dancing in her eyes. She had no idea what they were about to do, but she knew it would be good.

Jungkook cleared his throat, his voice easily filling the room. “I’m Jungkook Jeon, and this is my wife Blair Reid-Jeon. Some of you remember me from when I lived in Salida.” A few heads nodded. “I’m also President and CEO of Avalanche Development.”

The entire room stilled. Tiffany and Rachel looked like they’d just realized their glittery dresses were inside out. Blair took over, her tone crisp. “When we built these communities, we wanted them family-friendly and fair. The basic HOA rules are standard. But any amendments—” she held up a binder “—are required to be provided to homeowners in writing.”

Jungkook scanned the crowd. “How many of you received notice of these amendments?” Only two hands went up—Rachel and Tiffany’s husbands. Y/N couldn’t help but smirk.

Jungkook continued calmly. “Since Tiffany and Rachel were elected, twenty-five amendments have been submitted here. Our other developments average six in the same period. That raised some questions.”

Blair nodded. “According to Avalanche policy, if we suspect a board is violating the original agreements, we can suspend that board pending an investigation. During suspension, all changes they enacted are null and void.”

A cheer erupted, applause rattling the folding chairs. Tiffany and Rachel looked as if their sequined dresses had turned into scratchy potato sacks. Their jaws tightened as if physically holding back protest.

Jungkook delivered the final blow, his voice carrying the ring of authority: “Until a new vote is held, Taehyung Kim will serve as the local representative for Avalanche Development.”

The crowd whooped. Taehyung waved, trying and failing to hide his pride. Rachel and Tiffany, thoroughly deflated, gathered their purses and their husbands and slunk out, heads low.

Y/N caught Hoseok’s eye, and he grinned wide. She felt light and triumphant, like something stuck in her throat had finally cleared. Tonight, they’d won back their Christmas lights, their freedom, and their dignity. And maybe, she thought, as Hoseok gave her hand another gentle, reassuring squeeze, they’d won something even sweeter than that.

Y/N leaned into Hoseok, her heart swelling with satisfaction. “I love it when justice is served.”

“Especially with a side of brownies,” Hoseok murmured, draping an arm around her and pulling her close.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Y/N turned to him with a grin. “Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” she laughed, eyes sparkling with victory. “I was hoping for a full-blown protest.”

Hoseok chuckled, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s always next time.”

Jungkook joined them, his grin mischievous as always. “Blair’s dad and our legal team did some serious digging. A few calls to the homeowners confirmed our suspicions—no one knew about these ‘amendments.’ And Deiondre? She’s ready to lead the charge. Tiffany once tried to charm Jimin out of some speeding tickets, but Deiondre? She’s got a long memory and a grudge.”

“So, can we light up Ji-woo’s yard?” Hoseok asked, glancing at Jungkook with a glint of hope.

“Hell yes,” Namjoon said, clapping Jungkook on the shoulder. “We’ll surprise Ms. Ari with the lights first thing in the morning.”

“And we should get some for our yard, too,” Y/N added, nudging Taehyung with a sparkle of mischief in her eyes. “Nothing like a little reminder that sneaky business doesn’t pay off.”

Hoseok’s grin widened as he looked at her. “Need a shopping partner?”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Why, Mr. Jung, I’d be honored. Think you can handle Target?”

Hoseok winked, making her stomach flutter. “Target’s my secret addiction.”

Laughing, Y/N grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the car. “Let’s go before the others catch on!” she whispered with a grin, glancing back to make sure they hadn’t been spotted. “Blair is fascinated by the fact that you can buy toilet paper and cute shoes at the same place!”

They were still laughing as they slid into his SUV. Y/N settled into the cozy warmth, inhaling the scent of him—something spicy and clean with a hint of leather. She could barely focus on anything but him.

“Music?” Hoseok asked as he started the car, giving her a curious look.

She nodded, wondering what he’d choose. When Sam Hunt’s Take Your Time started playing, she raised an eyebrow. “Country?” she teased, grinning.

Hoseok chuckled. “I like a bit of everything. Try not to judge.”

“Same,” Y/N agreed. “Taehyung always jokes that my playlists are the most chaotic thing about me.”

The drive was easy, filled with conversation—his move to Denver, her memories of growing up in Salida, Taehyung’s infamous cooking disaster. By the time they pulled into Target’s empty parking lot, it felt like only minutes had passed.

Inside, Y/N led the way to the Christmas section, fingers trailing over garlands and lights. She picked up a Frosty the Snowman blow-up, then a Grinch one, holding them up with a mischievous grin. “I’m thinking the Grinch right between Tiffany and Rachel’s houses.”

Hoseok laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart race. They wandered the aisles, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. At one point, Y/N broke into an off-key rendition of “Say You’ll Be There” by the Spice Girls, and Hoseok watched her, utterly captivated. Every little thing about her pulled him in, until he wasn’t sure he’d ever want to pull away.

“What do you think of these?” Y/N held up a box of large, multicolored retro lights, her eyes bright. “Thinking they’d look great in the windows.”

“They’re perfect,” Hoseok replied, holding up his own find—a large Rudolph blow-up. “Think Arabella will like this?”

“She’ll love it,” Y/N giggled, imagining the little girl’s delight. “She can put it right next to Santa.”

Just then, a young employee approached, wide-eyed as he recognized Hoseok. “Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung,” he whispered, starstruck.

Hoseok gave him a friendly smile. “Hey, Fraser. Could you keep it low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop.”

The phrase my girl sent a thrill through Y/N’s chest, even if she knew it was just a way to keep things quiet. Still, it felt nice. Really nice.

Fraser looked ecstatic. “No problem. My dad’s a huge fan—he’d never believe I met you.”

“FaceTime him,” Y/N suggested, smiling. She loved making people’s day; it was one of the many things Hoseok admired about her. A few minutes later, Fraser was video chatting with his dad, and Hoseok was chatting and laughing with them both like old friends. At checkout, Fraser even gave them his employee discount as a thank-you, and Y/N, ever the charmer, kissed his cheek, wishing him a happy holiday.

As they stashed their bags in the car, Hoseok reached for her hand again. The touch was electric, and she looked up at him, heart racing as his thumb brushed over her skin.

“So,” Hoseok teased, his voice soft, “should I be jealous of Fraser?”

Y/N laughed, her voice a little breathless. “Oh, please,” she murmured, her lips curling into a smile. And then, without thinking, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt—the spark between them igniting into a full, consuming blaze. His lips moved against hers with a heat that left her breathless, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. Every inch of her was alive, responding to him with a rush of want and need she couldn’t control.

Hoseok’s hands gripped her waist, pulling her onto his lap as the kiss deepened. The soft leather seats of the SUV faded away, the world outside disappearing as his mouth claimed hers. His fingers traced the curve of her back, sending delicious shivers down her spine, and Y/N couldn’t think of anything beyond the way he was making her feel.

When he finally pulled back, his breath warm against her skin, he whispered, his voice husky, “You taste so good.”

Her head spun, her heart pounding as she whispered back, “Oh God, Hoseok…”

He groaned, hands tightening on her waist, but managed to pull back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his voice thick with restraint. “We really need to go,” he muttered, his tone both regretful and amused. “Pretty sure this parking lot isn’t the best place for this.”

“There’s a Motel 6 about ten minutes away,” Y/N teased, a wicked grin on her lips as she nibbled his lower lip.

Hoseok chuckled, a spark of mischief in his eyes, but there was a seriousness in his voice that sent a flutter through her heart. “Baby, our first time isn’t gonna be in some motel.”

“Damn,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him one last time, slower this time, savoring the taste of him before reluctantly slipping back into her seat. He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead, and even as they sat there in the warm silence, she knew this was far from over. Her body hummed with anticipation, her mind spinning with possibilities. And as Hoseok started the engine, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen next. One thing was certain—neither of them wanted this night to end.

That weekend, Hoseok had an away game, so he left early Tuesday morning to head back to Denver. But even a hundred miles couldn’t dull the connection between them. The distance didn’t stop them from staying in constant contact, texting, talking, and FaceTiming every chance they got, like their conversations were the only thing holding them together. The weekend flew by in a whirlwind of Broncos’ victory, securing their playoff spot and a first-round bye.

On Monday night, Hoseok’s voice filled her phone with a warmth that made her heart flutter. “Come to Denver for the weekend,” he suggested during their FaceTime call, his tone casual but carrying an unmistakable spark of anticipation. He turned his camera around to show off his sleek, modern condo with city lights twinkling behind the windows. “Stay with me. I’ll even cook my famous tacos.”

“Famous tacos?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, leaning back on her couch with a half-smile, trying to play it cool despite the excitement bubbling in her chest.

“Yep,” Hoseok grinned, amused by her skepticism. “You know the drill: open the yellow box, brown the meat, stir in the seasoning packet, chop some toppings—boom, gourmet masterpiece.” He delivered his ‘recipe’ with mock seriousness, his playful eyes crinkling at the corners.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head. “Don’t you think we should go on an actual date before I spend a weekend at your place, eating your so-called ‘famous tacos’?”

Hoseok’s grin widened. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he said, drawing out her name like it was a melody, teasing her as he leaned closer to the camera, “We’ve already been on plenty of dates. Let’s recap, shall we? First, there was the Christmas party where you dressed as an elf for me. By the way, if you still have that costume, feel free to bring it.” He gave a sly wink that made her cheeks flush.

Y/N covered her face, laughing. “That doesn’t count as a date!”

“Oh, it absolutely counts,” he insisted, barely holding back his own laughter. “Then there was that very classy ‘date’ in your kitchen, where your legs were wrapped around my waist, and your tongue was down my throat—top second date ever.”

“Unbelievable,” Y/N muttered, though her heart raced at the memory, her face heating up.

“We had a double date with your brother and my sister. Sure, Namjoon and the kids were there, but it totally counts,” he said, grinning. “And we went to a show together—the HOA meeting, which was nothing short of a Broadway production.”

Y/N could barely hold it together, laughing so hard she had to wipe her eyes. “So, those were all ‘dates,’ huh?”

“Absolutely,” Hoseok replied, his expression still playful. “And, in some cultures, with how often your tongue’s been in my mouth, we’re practically engaged.”

“Wait, we jumped from dates to being engaged?” she teased, rolling her eyes, though her heart skipped at the word engaged.

“In some cultures,” he replied smoothly, his grin softening. “Which clearly means it’s not too soon for you to come spend the weekend with me—your potential future husband.”

Her laughter faded, replaced by a flicker of nerves and excitement. Potential future husband. The words echoed in her mind, both ridiculous and somehow incredibly sweet. Her heart fluttered, and before she could stop herself, she found herself saying, “Oh hell, Hoseok, who am I to argue with that?”

They ended the call with playful promises, but as she set her phone down, she realized she was pacing her living room, mind whirling with the decision she’d just made. She was going to spend the weekend with Hoseok. At his place.

Was he serious about the ‘practically engaged’ part? She had no idea, but all she could think about was the “naked fun times” he’d hinted at. Her pulse quickened, her skin heating at the memory of their kiss—the way he had touched her, the way she had wanted him.

“Why are you pacing?” Taehyung’s voice broke through her thoughts. He stood in the doorway, eyebrows raised in suspicion.

“Just… exercising. Gotta get my steps in,” she lied quickly, definitely not ready to admit the truth—especially not about the “naked fun times.”

Taehyung squinted, clearly unconvinced, but let it go. “Any plans tonight? I thought we could watch Christmas Vacation or something.”

Y/N hesitated, biting her lip. She’d have to tell him eventually, and maybe sooner was better. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the news as casually as she could. “Actually… I’ll be in Denver this weekend. Hoseok invited me to stay at his place.”

Taehyung’s face lit up with a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling. “Well, well, looks like things are getting serious. Sure you don’t want to stay at my place instead? Save on hotel costs?”

"You mean Jungkook and Blair’s pool house?” Y/N shot back, smirking because she knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s the Tae Cave, don’t you forget it.” Taehyung laughed, and before she knew it, he’d scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing, carrying her toward the front door.

“Put me down, you idiot!” she shrieked, smacking his back while he stumbled onto the lawn.

Taehyung only grinned, unbothered by her protests. “Ji-woo! Y/N agreed to watch the kids tonight!”

From across the lawn, Ji-woo glanced over, giving them both a knowing smile as she tossed a ball to her kids. “Do boys ever grow up?” she asked, her voice full of teasing.

Y/N rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “Nope. They’re all Peter Pans at heart.”

Fifteen minutes later, Y/N was back inside, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and excitement as she texted Blair.

Y/N: I’m spending the weekend at Hoseok’s place.

Blair: Girl, you better tap that ass!

Y/N: Well… I think I will.

Blair’s response came back instantly, her enthusiasm practically leaping off the screen.

Blair: YES, finally! Go get it, girl! He’s so into you—I can feel it from here!

Y/N set her phone down, her lips curling into a grin that reached her eyes. The weekend stretched out before her like an open road, brimming with possibilities she hadn’t even dared to dream about. But even as she tried to play it cool, there was a nagging question in the back of her mind: What did this mean for them? Was this just a fun weekend fling, or was the connection between her and Hoseok something deeper?

Meanwhile, Hoseok felt like everything was clicking into place. His coach was over the moon about their playoff win, and on the field, he was playing with a fire he hadn’t felt in years. He could already picture that Super Bowl ring on his finger and the pride shining in Namjoon’s eyes. But there was one hurdle he hadn’t quite cleared—dating Namjoon’s little sister without landing on the wrong side of her brother’s protective instincts. If he could navigate that, the Super Bowl would feel like a stroll in the park.

As for the weekend ahead? Hoseok had a different kind of goal in mind—a personal mission that had nothing to do with football.

The doorman buzzed, signaling his guest’s arrival. Hoseok did a quick sweep of the apartment, making sure everything was in order. Steaks rested on the counter, sweet potatoes were warming in the oven, and a bottle of wine sat ready in case Y/N needed a break from her usual whiskey. A bouquet of red and white flowers added a touch of cozy, holiday cheer—perfect for the night they’d come together to reclaim their Christmas spirit.

Just as the elevator dinged, Hoseok rushed to the door and caught sight of Y/N stepping out. She looked a bit stunned but as beautiful as ever, cheeks flushed from the cold and bundled up in her winter coat.

“You made it,” he grinned, stepping forward to pull her into a hug. Her familiar warmth enveloped him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

“Blair dropped me off,” she murmured into his shoulder, her arms slipping around his neck. “She had to pick up some paperwork. Apparently, they found proof that Rachel was skimming HOA funds—billing for stuff and pocketing the money. They’re pressing charges. Tiffany was just following her lead, but there’s no evidence she took any of it.” She sighed, pulling back to look him in the eye. “And we stopped by Joon’s place so I could grab my suitcase. But he used it last for that cruise, so I had to get it from him. The cruiser was there, but no one answered the door, and I got worried. He’s not exactly young anymore, and his cholesterol isn’t great…”

Hoseok felt a pang of concern tighten his chest. Gently, he guided her inside, leading her to the living room as he closed the door behind them.

“Is Namjoon okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with worry.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice flat as she replied, “My brother was having sex with Teagan Carter.” Her words hung in the air, heavy and shocking. “Former Broncos cheerleader Teagan Carter. Blair and I walked in on him… in full doggy style… on the kitchen table where I ate breakfast every day growing up.” Her tone was so deadpan, so matter-of-fact, that Hoseok had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

He’d seen his parents through enough awkward moments to know the trauma, but the image of rule-following Namjoon caught in such an act almost broke his composure. Still, Y/N looked genuinely shaken, so he swallowed his amusement. He wasn’t about to let anything ruin their night.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, pulling her close and guiding her to the big, squishy sectional in his living room. “Sounds like you could use a strong whiskey.”

He sat her down, brushing a stray hair from her face before heading to the bar. Pouring her a couple of fingers, he handed her the glass, watching as she downed it in one gulp before holding it out for more. He poured a second, and this time, she sipped more slowly.

“Thanks for the flowers,” she said, her voice steadier as she glanced over at the festive bouquet. “And the whiskey.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, feeling a warmth spread through him as he watched her start to relax. “How about we eat in here tonight? I’ve got steaks, sweet potatoes, and creamed southwestern-style corn. We can just sit on the couch, watch something, take it easy. No table, no formality.”

“That sounds perfect,” she said, looking around the room with a small smile, her shoulders finally losing some tension.

“Wait… no Christmas tree?” she teased, glancing back at him with a playful pout.

Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “I had one, but I forgot to water it, and it pretty much died. Total fire hazard, so I got rid of it.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “What would Arabella say?”

“Oh, she’d fire me on the spot,” he replied with mock horror. “But don’t worry—we’ll go to a Christmas store tomorrow and get a replacement. We’ll decorate it together before my niece disowns me for holiday negligence.”

Her laughter was music to his ears, and he felt the last bit of tension melt away from her body. They ate quickly, the food delicious but secondary to the easy flow of conversation between them. White Christmas played softly in the background, and as Y/N fed him small bites of steak, the air grew charged. Their playful touches lingered, her hand resting on his thigh a little longer than necessary, his fingers brushing against her shoulder as they exchanged knowing glances.

By the time dinner was over, Hoseok felt the pull between them, the simmering desire they both seemed to be tiptoeing around. He’d been trying to take things slow, but it was getting harder to ignore how her body leaned into his, how her eyes traced his mouth like a path she wanted to follow.

“I’m just gonna use the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing up with a soft smile before disappearing down the hall.

Hoseok took the chance to brush his teeth, trying to steady himself, but it all felt oddly… domestic. Sharing a meal, cleaning up, brushing their teeth in the same space like it was the most natural thing in the world. For the first time, it hit him just how right it felt to have her here, in his home. He didn’t know where this was going, but he was sure of one thing: he didn’t want to lose whatever this was.

“Hoseok?” Her voice floated softly down the hall, pulling him from his thoughts. He stepped out of the bathroom to find her standing there, looking at him with a warmth in her eyes that made his chest tighten.

“Sorry, I needed to brush mine too,” he said with a small smile, gesturing behind him toward the bathroom. His heart skipped as she stepped further into his room, her eyes widening as they took in the sight of his massive California king bed.

“That bed is huge!” she exclaimed, her surprise turning into a smile, a playful curiosity dancing in her eyes.

“I’m a big guy. I like lots of room,” he teased, winking in that effortless way that always made her pulse race.

She giggled, but before she could respond, he moved toward her, scooping her up into his arms. She shrieked in laughter, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck, pulling herself close as her body curled against his.

“Hoseok!” she giggled, her laughter filling the room like music. “What are you doing?”

“Testing out how much room we have,” he quipped, grinning as he carried her toward the bed. He carefully set her down on the soft mattress, her head sinking into the pillow as she giggled, squirming under his playful attack. The sheets were crisp and cool beneath her, and she looked up at him with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“Oh, so this is your big plan? Throw me onto your bed and… what? Have a pillow fight?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.

“Not quite,” Hoseok replied, his grin softening as he settled beside her, keeping a little space between them. Propping his head on his arm, he looked at her, his playful expression turning more tender, more serious. “I thought maybe we could just… talk for a bit.”

Her expression shifted, the laughter in her eyes melting into something warmer. “Talk, huh?” she murmured, her voice softening as she turned to face him, the space between them feeling both wide and intimate all at once.

He reached over, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her skin. “Yeah… I want to get to know you more,” he admitted, his voice low, like he was letting her in on a secret. “Like… what makes you happy. What you dream about. Stuff like that.”

Her heart melted at his words, and she shifted closer, turning onto her side so that they were face to face, sharing the same pillow. Her fingers traced small circles on the sheet between them, her mind racing with thoughts of how rare it was for someone to want to know her in this way.

“Well,” she began, her voice a little shy but honest, “I’m happiest when I’m with the people I care about—my family, my friends. I love little moments, like baking cookies with Tae or playing board games with my students.” She paused, looking into his eyes with a soft smile. “And… I’ve always dreamed of traveling. I want to see places I’ve only read about. Paris, Rome… maybe even Tokyo.”

“Tokyo, huh?” His eyes lit up as he listened, his hand moving to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ve been there a few times for games. You’d love it. The city is electric, so full of life. It’s one of those places where you feel like anything’s possible.”

She smiled at the thought, her heart swelling with how easy it was to imagine herself in a place like that—especially with Hoseok by her side.

“What about you?” she asked, curiosity sparking as she looked at him. “What makes you happy?”

His gaze softened, something tender flashing in his eyes. “Honestly?” he began, his voice quiet. “Moments like this. Where everything feels… simple. No pressure, no expectations. Just… being with someone who gets me.” His thumb brushed along her cheek, and he hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully. “And you make me happy. Just being around you.”

Her breath caught, her chest tightening at the way his words wrapped around her, filling the quiet space between them. His hand lingered on her cheek, his touch warm, and she leaned into it, savoring the moment, the connection.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them wrapped up in the quiet intimacy. She could feel her heart pounding, the tension between them building with each passing second.

Then, without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm, pulling him closer until the space between them disappeared. Their bodies pressed together, the warmth of him surrounding her like a soft blanket.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her gaze lingered on his lips, her own just inches from his. “But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Hoseok’s eyes darkened, his breath escaping in a soft exhale as he leaned in, closing the gap between them. “I’ve been thinking about you, too,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between.

The kiss that followed was slow at first, deliberate. They savored every second, every gentle brush of their lips, as if the world had paused to let them catch their breath. The tenderness lingered—a kiss that drew them deeper, as though nothing else existed beyond that connection. But tenderness has a way of unraveling, and soon desire took over.

Hoseok’s hand slid to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer as if he could meld them together. Y/N’s hands pressed against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. It wasn’t just his heart racing—hers was too. Something raw and wild had ignited between them, like an engine roaring to life, and it was growing.

He shifted, flipping them effortlessly until she was straddling him, their bodies pressing together like they had always belonged this way, like there was never supposed to be any space between them. His hands roamed up her back, fingers sliding beneath her shirt, and Y/N arched into his touch, every nerve in her body coming alive.

She hadn’t realized just how much she wanted this—no, needed this. All the tension, the constant teasing, the slow build—it all came rushing to the surface now, and she couldn’t get enough of him. His lips met hers again, but there was nothing soft about it this time. It was desperate, all-consuming. A firestorm. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and Y/N matched his intensity, her hands sliding down his chest, feeling every inch of him beneath his shirt.

Hoseok moved again, laying her back against the bed, positioning himself beside her, his arm holding him up as he gazed down at her. Their legs tangled, and she could feel the warmth of him, the electricity that sparked between them. His hand traced a slow line up her arm, and she instinctively moved closer, pressing her face against his chest, feeling the cool fabric of his shirt against her cheek.

Hoseok’s breath was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something intense beneath the surface. He looked down at her, his eyes soft, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing it tenderly before leaning in to kiss her again. But this time, there was no hesitation. His lips claimed hers with a kind of certainty that sent a jolt through her entire being. This was Hoseok—her Hoseok. The realization wrapped around her heart, pulling her in even deeper.

Her fingers clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss growing more passionate with each passing second. Every time their lips parted, they found each other again, more intense, more insistent. Y/N’s breath quickened, her pulse racing, her entire world narrowing down to the feel of him—his scent, his warmth, the way his hands moved over her, like he was never going to let her go.

This is Hoseok, her mind whispered, Hoseok holding me, kissing me... Heat pooled low in her belly, her body responding with an urgency that took her breath away. She was hot and aching, and all she could think about was how much she wanted him—how much she needed him.

But then, something shifted inside her. She found herself pulling back, her mind slipping out of the moment. Her lips stilled, and she buried her face against his chest, her breath catching as she tried to steady herself. Hoseok didn’t let go. He kept his arms wrapped around her, strong and steady, his chin resting gently on the top of her head. For a while, they just lay there, breathing together as the soft patter of rain against the window filled the quiet room.

Hoseok pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering there for a moment. Y/N tilted her head up, meeting his gaze. His eyes held a question, one he didn’t need to voice. Do you trust me?

“Yes,” she whispered, the word escaping her before she even realized it. She leaned up, kissing him again, slowly at first, before rolling with him until he was fully over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. The kiss deepened, turning passionate, their lips moving together in a heated rhythm that made her breath hitch.

Hoseok’s lips left hers, trailing down her neck, soft at first, then more demanding as he reached the curve of her throat. His mouth opened, teeth grazing her skin before biting down gently, and Y/N gasped, her body arching beneath him. A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine, her eyes fluttering closed, her hands tangling in his hair.

His hands moved with purpose, tracing the curves of her waist, sliding up to cup her breast through her shirt. Y/N’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, her body responding to every kiss, every touch. His thumb brushed over her nipple, sending a delicious thrill through her, and she moaned, her fingers clutching at his shoulders.

“Hoseok,” she breathed, her voice thick with longing.

He didn’t stop, his lips moving lower, kissing along her collarbone, down to her stomach as he pushed her shirt up, revealing more of her skin with each kiss. Y/N’s heart pounded, her mind spinning as his touch ignited every inch of her. The air between them buzzed, electric, and all she could think was how much she needed him—how much she wanted him.

And when his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her pants, finding her warm and wet, Y/N’s mind went blank. Her world narrowed down to the sensation, the overwhelming pleasure as his fingers moved over her, teasing, exploring, drawing her higher and higher.

Her breath hitched, her body arching into his touch, her hands fisting the sheets as she lost herself to the storm of desire he’d stirred in her. She couldn’t think—only feel, as Hoseok took her further, his mouth and hands working in perfect sync to unravel her completely.

Hoseok’s breath came in short, shallow bursts, his focus entirely on her, on the way she responded to his touch. His mouth found her neck, lips warm and insistent, kissing and nipping in a way that bordered on torturous. Each kiss was like a spark, igniting something deep inside her, making her legs tremble.

She felt herself teetering on the edge, her body trembling, her breath coming in short gasps. Hoseok’s mouth moved with purpose, and then, with a final flick of his tongue, Y/N’s world shattered. Her body convulsed, pleasure rippling through her in waves, and she cried out, her mind blank, her entire being consumed by the sensation.

“Hoseok!” she screamed, her voice raw, as she came apart beneath him.

The aftershocks left her body trembling, her breath uneven, her heart pounding in her chest. When she finally opened her eyes, Hoseok was still there, his lips leaving gentle kisses as if savoring every last bit of her. She reached down, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

“Hoseok…” she whispered, her voice weak, and he looked up, his eyes meeting hers, dark and filled with something she couldn’t quite name.

He moved up, capturing her lips in a slow, lingering kiss, his hand still on her, his fingers stroking her gently. She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beneath him, the warmth of him filling her.

“No rest?” she murmured against his lips, her voice thick with exhaustion and desire.

He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes softening. “We’re slowing down,” he promised, his voice a husky whisper. There was something in the way he said it—an intimacy, a reassurance—that made her heart swell. It was a promise, but it was also a temptation, one she wasn’t sure she could resist.

She kissed him again, her lips seeking his in a slow, sensual dance. Hoseok’s fingers continued their gentle exploration, his touch grounding her, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile against his mouth. She didn’t know where this was going, what would happen next, but right now—right here in his arms—it felt like everything was exactly as it was meant to be.

Her hands moved down, brushing against the undone buckle of his belt, her fingers slipping inside and finding him hard, throbbing with anticipation. Wrapping her hand around him, she began to stroke, her movements deliberate, matching the slow, sensual rhythm of his fingers as he moved against her. She could feel him growing even harder beneath her touch, the heat between them building with every second.

Hoseok stilled, his forehead resting against hers, his breath coming out in shallow gasps. Together, they moved in a slow, building rhythm, heat flooding through her all over again, setting every inch of her on fire.

And then his pace slowed, the movement growing almost imperceptibly gradual. Y/N opened her eyes, questioning, as Hoseok shifted beneath her. His arm slid under her back with a fluid grace, holding her close as he gave one last deliberate thrust. Then, without a word, he carefully rolled them both until she was on top, straddling him, her legs trembling as she adjusted to the new position.

Y/N hovered above him, her breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as she lay against his chest. She could feel the tip of him brushing against her, an aching reminder of how full he had made her feel just moments before. Lifting her gaze, her eyes met Hoseok's, and for a moment, they were simply lost in each other. There was an unspoken understanding, a silent agreement forged from shared intensity and want.

It felt like the rest of the world had disappeared, leaving only this—the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, the rhythmic pulse of their bodies.

Y/N took a deep breath, pushing herself upright, her hands bracing against his chest. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, achingly slow, until she could feel every inch of him stretching her, filling her completely. A groan escaped her lips, her eyelids fluttering shut as her body adjusted to the overwhelming sensation. She stayed still for a moment, savoring the feeling of him inside her, the way their bodies seemed to mold together perfectly, the way her skin burned from the intimate contact.

Hoseok's hands rested on her hips, his fingers tracing the soft skin there in slow, gentle strokes, guiding without forcing. "Y/N, move with me," he murmured, his voice soft, filled with a quiet kind of intensity.

She nodded, her lips parting as she exhaled shakily. She lifted herself just a little before sliding back down, the friction sending a wave of warmth through her, radiating from where they were joined and traveling through her entire body.

"A little more," Hoseok instructed, his voice a low hum, his hands on her hips gently guiding her. She complied, shifting her position until she felt the angle change, the pressure heightening. "Now tilt forward," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin.

She did, and when she lifted herself again, the movement sent shockwaves through her, every nerve ending alive with pleasure. She gasped, her thighs shaking as she sank back down, the sensation almost too much to bear.

"Again, Y/N," Hoseok urged, his voice rough with need now, his hands steady on her hips, encouraging but never controlling.

She lifted herself again, her pace picking up, her breath catching in her throat as the friction intensified. Each time she came down onto him, it hit just right, the pressure building inside her like a storm about to break.

"Hoseok," she moaned, her voice raw, her movements becoming more desperate. "I can't—"

"You can," he murmured, his hands tightening just enough to guide her, to keep her steady. "I'm here. You can."

His words were like fuel to the fire burning inside her, and Y/N couldn't stop now. She couldn't hold back, couldn't control the way her body moved, the rhythm growing faster, more frantic. Hoseok's hips met hers with every movement, the sensation driving her closer to the edge.

"Hoseok," she gasped, her voice breaking as the pleasure grew overwhelming. "I don't know—"

"You can," he repeated, his voice filled with heat but also with a steadiness that anchored her. "I'm right here with you. Take me."

And she did. Y/N let herself go, the rhythm spiraling faster, the friction building to an unbearable peak. She focused on the way it felt—the way his body moved beneath hers, filling her again and again, the way their connection sparked like a live wire. Her cries grew louder, mingling with Hoseok's deep, guttural moans, his name falling from her lips like a desperate prayer as she gave herself over completely to the raw, consuming pleasure.

The pressure inside her finally burst, sending her over the edge, her body convulsing with each wave of release. She collapsed onto Hoseok, her face pressing into the crook of his neck, her breath coming in short, broken gasps.

Hoseok held her close, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back, his lips pressing soft kisses to her hair as her body trembled against him. Slowly, gently, he shifted them, rolling onto their sides so she was cradled against him, her legs still tangled with his.

Y/N felt exhaustion wash over her, her eyes heavy, her mind hazy with the aftershocks of what had just happened. She looked up at him, her gaze meeting his, and there was something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat—something tender, something achingly real.

Hoseok leaned down, brushing a kiss against her forehead, his breath warm on her skin as he whispered, "You're beautiful, Y/N."

A soft sigh escaped her lips, her heart swelling with a mix of emotions she couldn't quite put into words. And as sleep began to pull her under, the last thing she felt was Hoseok's heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and comforting, lulling her into the quiet darkness.

Hoseok and Y/N found themselves wandering the brightly lit aisles of a 24-hour Christmas shop at two in the morning, after indulging in a couple more rounds of "naked fun time" and catching a nap. Now, they were doing something a little more wholesome—shopping for a Christmas tree. The soft glow of twinkling lights and the faint hum of Christmas music set the mood, but the intimacy between them lingered, electric and unmistakable.

"What did I tell you about shoving that tongue of yours in my mouth, baby?" Hoseok teased, his hand wrapped warmly around hers as they strolled side by side. His voice was playful, but the undercurrent of attraction that simmered between them hadn’t dissipated from earlier.

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance, feigning innocence as she inspected an eight-foot artificial tree in front of her. It was lush, full, and pre-lit—perfect for his apartment. But the price tag gave her pause. "Hoseok, we’re in public. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile," she replied, her lips quirking into a smirk. "I’m not going to shove my tongue down your throat, no matter how hot you look right now."

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that made her heart skip a beat. "It’s two in the morning," he countered, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned in close enough that his breath tickled her ear. "The only people here are two cashiers who aren’t paying attention, and that guy over there who looks like he’s about to have a mental breakdown over the stocking selection."

Y/N slapped his hand playfully as it ventured toward her butt, but couldn’t help laughing herself. Hoseok always had a way of making everything fun. "Behave," she teased, trying to regain some control. "Let’s just get the tree and grab something to eat. If you’re a good boy," she added, her voice dropping suggestively, "maybe I’ll reward you when we get back to your place. But right now, my kitty is a little sore."

Immediately, the playful grin on Hoseok’s face softened into concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his eyes darting down to her lower half as if he could somehow diagnose her pain through her clothes.

Y/N giggled, touched by his genuine worry. "I’m fine," she assured him, brushing a hand over his chest. "I just need a little break before that big boy of yours comes back to play."

Relief washed over his features, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. "Then let’s get this tree," he said, his voice back to its playful cadence as he grabbed the massive $400 pre-lit tree without hesitation and dropped it into their cart. Y/N’s eyes widened at the ease with which he tossed the tree around like it weighed nothing. She reminded herself that Hoseok’s salary as a professional quarterback meant this was pocket change to him.

They continued through the store, picking out ornaments, stockings, and other holiday decorations to transform Hoseok’s apartment into a Christmas wonderland. As they turned down another aisle, Hoseok spotted a giant blow-up Rudolph tucked away in a corner, probably set aside by another shopper. But Hoseok didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the blow-up with a triumphant grin.

"Think Arabella will like this?" he asked, holding it up for Y/N’s inspection.

"She’s going to love it!" Y/N squealed, doing a little happy dance in the aisle. "It’ll look perfect next to her Santa."

They made their way toward the checkout, their cart brimming with holiday cheer. Just as they approached the register, a young employee walked up to them, his eyes wide with disbelief as he recognized Hoseok.

"Dude, you’re Hoseok Jung," the kid—Fraser—breathed, looking like he was about to faint from excitement.

Hoseok smiled warmly, always gracious with fans. "Hey, Fraser," he greeted. "Can we keep this low-key? My girl and I are just trying to shop without causing a scene."

Fraser nodded eagerly, his awe palpable. "No problem, man. But my dad is a huge fan—he’s never going to believe I met you."

Without missing a beat, Y/N stepped in with a solution. "Why don’t you FaceTime him? Hoseok can say hi. Consider it an early Christmas present."

Fraser’s face lit up, and a moment later, he was dialing his dad on video. Hoseok chatted with the man for a few minutes, making his night, while Y/N watched with a smile, admiring how effortlessly charming he was with everyone. By the time they left the store, Fraser had applied his employee discount, and they left with their cartful of holiday magic.

Back at Hoseok’s sleek, modern apartment, they set up the tree and decorated it with the ornaments they had bought. The space soon took on a warm, festive glow as they adorned every inch with twinkling lights and garland. Y/N was sore, her body reminding her of their earlier escapades, so she popped a couple of Advil and leaned into the cozy domesticity of the moment. They scrambled eggs and made toast in the kitchen afterward, sharing quiet, comfortable laughter while Hoseok, in nothing but sweatpants, danced around the room like a man without a care in the world.

After their impromptu breakfast, they decided to take a long soak in Hoseok’s luxurious jetted tub. The hot water soothed Y/N’s aching muscles, and she leaned back, watching the steam rise as she sipped a glass of wine. Hoseok was beside her, his arm resting casually along the edge of the tub, and they talked quietly, the sound of the water bubbling around them.

"This bathroom is a whole spa," Y/N sighed contentedly. "I could live here."

"Good," Hoseok teased, "because you’re not allowed to leave."

They shared a soft laugh before falling into a companionable silence, the kind that comes when two people are perfectly in sync. Y/N closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the water and the presence of the man beside her. She hadn’t realized how deeply she was falling for him, but it was moments like these—simple, quiet, intimate—that made her heart swell.

Later, feeling completely relaxed and refreshed, Y/N found herself back in Hoseok’s bedroom. She playfully pushed him onto the bed, his towel falling away as she crawled over him. The night had been a blur of laughter, shared glances, and stolen kisses, but now there was a different energy between them—one that simmered with anticipation. She kissed him deeply, her hands roaming over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips.

Hoseok’s hands found their way to her hips, gripping her gently as she straddled him, her body moving in perfect sync with his. They had started the night in celebration, but as their lips met again and again, it became clear that they weren’t quite finished celebrating. Their connection deepened, and before long, Y/N had lost count of the number of times Hoseok had brought her to the brink of ecstasy.

As they lay tangled in the sheets afterward, Y/N rested her head on Hoseok’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this content, this safe, this utterly fulfilled. She glanced up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at her with a smile that was equal parts satisfaction and affection.

"Do you think Arabella will notice if we sleep all day tomorrow?" Y/N whispered with a playful grin.

Hoseok laughed softly, kissing the top of her head. "I think she’ll notice, but maybe I can bribe her with that giant Rudolph."

Y/N giggled, snuggling closer to him. "Best bribe ever."

They drifted off to sleep, the glow of the Christmas tree casting a soft light over the room, the warmth of their shared moments wrapping around them like a blanket.

Christmas morning dawned with a soft blanket of snow covering the streets, casting everything in a serene, white glow. Y/N pulled on her favorite holiday pajamas—flannel with tiny reindeer printed all over them—and headed downstairs to the kitchen where the smell of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. Hoseok was already up, standing by the stove, looking impossibly handsome even in the early morning light. He wore a red sweater with a goofy snowman on it, his hair still a bit tousled from sleep.

"Merry Christmas, baby," he greeted her, his voice warm and affectionate as he turned away from the stove to plant a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Merry Christmas," Y/N murmured, leaning into him for a moment before glancing at the counter, where several plates of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs were laid out. "You made all this?"

"I figured I’d spoil you a little this morning," Hoseok said with a grin, flipping a pancake effortlessly in the air. "But don’t get used to it—this is a special occasion."

Y/N laughed, wrapping her arms around his waist as he cooked. She loved moments like this, where everything felt simple and perfect. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

After breakfast, they exchanged their first Christmas presents together. Y/N, trying not to look too giddy, handed Hoseok a neatly wrapped box. He eyed it curiously before tearing off the paper to reveal a chunky knit sweater, soft and charcoal gray.

"I noticed you didn’t have any sweaters that weren’t Christmas-themed," Y/N teased, watching his expression as he held the sweater up for inspection. "Figured you needed one for, you know, normal winter days."

Hoseok grinned, running his fingers over the fabric. "I love it," he said, immediately pulling it over his head, the sweater fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders. "How do I look?"

"Ridiculously good, as usual," Y/N said, laughing as he struck a pose, exaggerating his movements like a runway model. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," he replied, leaning in to kiss her softly. Then, with a mischievous smile, he handed her a wrapped box of his own. "Your turn."

Y/N unwrapped it carefully, the paper revealing a set of beautifully arranged classroom supplies—new whiteboards, markers, and a sleek, high-quality planner. She looked up at Hoseok, her heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of the gift. "You… you remembered I needed these?"

"Of course I did," Hoseok said, his smile softening. "You mentioned it once, a few weeks ago, about how some of your supplies were old or worn out. I figured your students deserve the best, and so do you."

Y/N felt tears prickle at the corners of her eyes. It was such a small thing, but the fact that he’d remembered and gone out of his way to get her something so practical, something that would make her job easier, made her feel incredibly loved. "Thank you," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Hey, I just want to make sure you’re ready to shape young minds," Hoseok teased, but there was a sincerity in his voice that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

By mid-morning, they were bundled up and heading over to Ji-woo’s house for the family Christmas party. Hoseok carried a bag full of presents for his niece and nephew while Y/N held a tray of cookies she’d baked the night before.

Ji-woo’s house was buzzing with life when they arrived. The sound of children laughing, holiday music playing, and the smell of roasting turkey greeted them as soon as they walked through the door. Arabella came running up to Hoseok, her face lighting up when she saw him.

"Uncle Hobi!" she squealed, throwing her arms around his waist. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Arabella," Hoseok said, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around as she giggled. "I’ve got a surprise for you!"

Arabella’s eyes widened with excitement as Hoseok set her down and pulled out the giant inflatable Rudolph from the bag. Her squeals of delight filled the room as she hugged the blow-up reindeer tightly.

"I knew it! I knew you’d bring Rudolph!" she beamed, her joy infectious.

In the living room, Ji-woo was busy setting up the table, her smile bright and welcoming. "Merry Christmas, you two!" she called out, walking over to hug them both. "You’re just in time. Maxwell’s been asking when Uncle Hobi’s going to get here so he can open his gifts."

"And I brought something extra this year," Y/N said with a grin, handing over the tray of cookies. "Hope the kids like them."

"I’m sure they will," Ji-woo laughed, taking the cookies and placing them on the table beside an array of other desserts.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of laughter, food, and family. Taehyung and Jungkook arrived soon after, arms full of more gifts and treats. Namjoon showed up in his full police uniform, fresh from his morning shift, with his usual calm smile and a bag of baked goods he claimed were homemade (but Y/N knew they were store-bought).

After opening presents, everyone settled around the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate while Maxwell and Arabella played with their new toys. Y/N sat beside Hoseok on the couch, leaning her head on his shoulder, feeling completely content. The warmth of the fire, the sound of everyone laughing and talking, the smell of pine from the Christmas tree—it was everything she could’ve asked for.

Hoseok wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "This is nice," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear.

"Yeah, it is," Y/N murmured, closing her eyes and letting the moment wash over her.

They stayed like that for a while, basking in the simplicity of the holiday, surrounded by the people they cared about most. And as the snow continued to fall softly outside, Y/N couldn’t help but think that this was exactly what Christmas was supposed to feel like—full of love, laughter, and the quiet moments that made everything else seem perfect.

As the day wound down, and the fire began to flicker low, Hoseok leaned over and kissed Y/N’s temple, his voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you for being here with me."

Y/N smiled, feeling the weight of his words settle in her chest like a warm blanket. "I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else."

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