#it might be Christmas time in this fic but the angst is REAL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

janaispunk · 6 months

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it’s nice to have a friend

this is a secret santa gift for @wethairjoel - merry christmas my love 🫶🏻

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: ~2.6k

summary: Joel and you have been best friends for years, but maybe this Christmas it’s time for the both of you to admit that that’s not all you want. (Goddamn I should write Hallmark movies)

tags: no outbreak!AU, friends to lovers, idiots in love, Sarah is alive, Ellie is reader’s sister, able-bodied reader, bits of angst/jealousy, Joel being emotionally constipated, mentions of alcohol consumption, FLUFF <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics who is amazing!

full masterlist here / follow @janaispunknotifs and turn on notifications for fic updates!

much love to @reddedmiller for assuring me that this is cute and not terrible, i love you 🫶🏻

“Ellie, come on! They’re here!”

Your back is turned to the door as you’re yelling up the staircase, waiting for your younger sister to finally come down. You turn around, fixing the open door and your waiting friend Joel with a tired smile.

“Hi,” you sigh, waving at Sarah, who’s waiting in the backseat of Joel’s truck.

“Rough morning?” Joel chuckles and lets you pull him into a quick hug.

As you’re nodding, Ellie finally comes trudging down the stairs, her backpack haphazardly thrown over one shoulder and her hair in a loose ponytail. She wordlessly flips you the bird as she walks past you and you roll your eyes, used to her grumpy mood in the morning.

“Sorry,” you mutter in Joel’s direction, ushering her out of the door, “didn’t mean to make you guys late.”

Joel laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’, it’s no big deal.”

He casually throws an arm over your shoulder as he leads you to his car and opens the passenger side’s door for you while Ellie is already climbing in beside Sarah.

Joel starts the car and makes his way to the girls’ school, the radio playing soft rock music in the background and the girls chattering away behind you.

“Thanks again for doing this,” you smile at Joel.

“‘Course. You’re the one doin’ me a favor here, really.”

Joel and you had both agreed to take the day off and go shopping for Christmas presents for your girls while they were at school.

You had moved to Austin two years ago, a few months after becoming Ellie’s legal guardian. Ellie and Sarah had classes together and had quickly become best friends, easing your worries about Ellie being an outsider at her new school, and they asked to spend more time together outside of classes almost constantly.

That’s how you met Joel, the both of you bonding over being the sole caregiver for your girls and being younger than most other parents at the school. It’s an easy friendship and one that you cherish greatly. Joel is a good friend, making you laugh when you’re with him, always willing to help if anything at your house needs fixing, hosting barbecues for the four almost every weekend in the summer, and someone you can always turn to for parenting advice.

So what if he’s also so handsome that it almost hurts to look at him sometimes and your heart rate still picks up when he’s close to you? When you had first started hanging out more, you had thought that there might be more between you, with the way he kept calling you “darlin’” and the flirty remarks he threw at you, but nothing more ever happened and he never gave you any indication that he wanted anything more, so you figured that it was just his southern charm and that he treated everybody like this. Not wanting to screw up the one real friendship that you had managed to build in your new hometown, you continued to swallow down any deeper feelings, any attraction that you might feel towards him.

You drop the girls off at school and continue the drive downtown, stopping on the way for a coffee. Joel, who you have never seen drinking anything else than plain black coffee, teases you relentlessly over the Christmas themed drink with syrup and an obnoxious amount of whipped cream that you have picked for yourself. It’s a never ending discussion that comes up every time you have coffee together and one that you've gotten used to, with Joel not understanding why you would taint the coffee’s taste and you not understanding how he’s able to drink the bitter beverage without smoothing it out with milk at least.

When you finally reach the mall, already packed with bustling crowds of Christmas shoppers, you sigh. At least you’re not alone, and you have a plan of what you want to get. You pull out the list of potential gifts and stores where you might get them that you had written the night before, making Joel chuckle.

“Always prepared for anythin’, huh?”

You grin back and nudge him with your elbow. “You’re gonna thank me later, trust me.”

“Don’t doubt it,” he mutters and follows you through the crowd of people, a calming presence by your side.

You make a good team, somehow both more equipped to pick out presents for the other’s young girl. Sarah had wished for new CDs, movies and posters of her favorite bands to redecorate her room, an endeavor that you’re more than happy to help with. Ellie wants new strings and picks for her guitar, one that you had bought second hand and that Joel is teaching her to play almost every weekend, and new drawing utensils.

Due to your thorough planning, you manage to secure all the goods before noon, a fact that you don’t hesitate to rub into Joel’s face and he reluctantly agrees that this shopping trip had been done much faster than if he had gone alone, playing up his grumpy demeanor but you know him well enough to see the warm and playful glint in his eyes.

Since you still have a few hours to yourselves until the girls will return from school, you decide to get another coffee and maybe a snack together, this time actually sitting down in a café rather than picking it up. You’re treating yourself to another fancy drink, Joel is sipping on another black coffee and you’re sharing a blueberry muffin while you’re talking about your plans for the holidays.

Ellie and you will be over at the Millers for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, a tradition that you had established last year and that you’re more than grateful for. You love Ellie and she’s the only family that you care about, but you want her to have the best time possible, especially at Christmas.

Joel excuses himself to use the bathroom and leaves you alone at the table. You’re aimlessly scrolling through your phone when another person sits down in Joel’s seat. You look up slowly, taking in the guy in front of you. Slim, blonde, about your age, kind of handsome, you presume, if that part of your mind wasn’t taken up by another man. But that’s not a thought that you’re supposed to have, you try reminding yourself.

“Hey,” the man says, smiling at you. He has a handsome smile, too. “I’m Dan.” He extends a hand to you and you shake it, too perplexed to do much else.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, I just came in and saw you sitting here all alone and I just thought I’d take the chance and ask if you wanted to go out with me sometime?”

You stare at him for a second, the question barely registering in your brain, before you snap out of it. Why not, you tell yourself, this might be good for you. Good to get the idea of Joel and you out of your head once and for all.

“I- um, yeah. Sure!”

You plaster a smile on your face and exchange phone numbers with Dan who promises to text you and gets up just as Joel comes back, scowling at Dan’s retreating back.

“Who was that?” he asks, and you wonder if you’re imagining his tone being colder than it was before he left.

“Just a guy,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed and weirdly guilty, “wanted to go out with me, I guess.”

“And, will you?” You’re not imagining it, Joel definitely sounds colder.

“Maybe. I don’t know. Who knows if he’ll even text me,” you shrug and stand up abruptly, suddenly desperate to get out of the situation, “let’s go.”

Joel’s answering huff doesn’t do much to calm you down and the walk back to the car is more silent than you’re used to with him, none of the usual bantering between you two.

He drops you off at your house and while you had planned to invite him in to maybe start wrapping your gifts together, you’re now kind of desperate to get out of this weird tension between you, so you just grab your bags and hop out of the truck. Joel mumbles his goodbye and you watch him drive off while you’re standing in your doorway, your eyebrows furrowed. You think that maybe something just soured his mood, even if you can’t fathom what it might have been, and calm yourself with the thought that you’ll just text him later.

You do just that, sending him a photo of your wrapped gifts a few hours after you got home, but he doesn’t respond. You don’t hear from him for several days, your calls remaining unanswered and there are no replies to your texts. You actually resort to asking Ellie if Sarah has said anything, but she’s just as clueless as you are.

The weekend rolls around and you go on your date with Dan, who, unlike someone else, has texted you. He takes you out for lunch and while the date is nice and he’s being polite, easy to have a conversation with and you’re fighting with yourself trying to like him, you’re bored.

You don’t feel any spark between the two of you, a spark that you, as you begrudgingly have to admit to yourself, always feel when you’re with Joel. You decidedly swallow that thought back down as soon as it occurs to you, but it stays in the back of your mind, like a kind of craving that you just can’t turn off.

You tell Dan that you’re sorry but that you don’t see the two of you turn into anything more, which he accepts graciously and wishes you all the best and you once again want to kick yourself for not feeling anything at all for this kind and blissfully uncomplicated man.

Grinding your teeth, you call Joel the next evening and to your surprise, he finally picks up.

“Where the hell have you been?” you demand without as much as a greeting.

“Just busy with work,” his voice huffs through the speaker and you can’t help but start feeling slightly more at ease at the sound of it, even if you don’t believe that he was too busy to contact you for days, but at least he picked up your call now.

“How’d your date go?”

He sounds… careful, like he’s not sure if he wants to know the answer. You’re confused for a second; you didn’t even have the chance to tell him about those plans; until your gaze falls on your sister who’s sitting on the couch opposite from you with headphones over her ears and frantically scribbling in her notebook.

“Between Sarah and Ellie, no secret is safe, huh?” you grin.

“So it’s a secret?” His voice is tense.

“I guess not, I just didn’t- I don’t know.” You huff a frustrated sigh. “But it doesn’t matter, I’m not gonna see him again, so…”

“Did he do something?” Joel demands immediately and you feel your cheeks warming at the way he switches into protective mode.

“No no, don’t get all riled up. He was nice, just… not it. I wasn’t really interested in him anyway, so.”

“Huh,” Joel mumbles and though you can’t see him, you can tell that some of the tension is dissolving.

You chat a little more, working out the finer parts of the plans for your shared Christmas celebration in a few days, and by the end of the phone call, you feel like things between you are back to normal.

It’s the second Christmas Eve that you’ve spent at the Miller household and it’s just as chaotic as the first one. Joel’s brother Tommy comes to visit, bringing with him a bottle of whiskey and an air of mischief that immediately infects the two girls who are already giddy with the energy of Christmas, the prospect of getting presents tomorrow morning and the inevitable sugar high that comes with consuming mountains of Christmas cookies.

Ellie and you are meant to sleep over, Ellie in Sarah’s room and you in the guest room, so you indulge in a few glasses of whiskey, feeling pleasantly tipsy and like a warm, hazy glow is surrounding you. You sing Christmas songs along to the radio with the girls, laugh loudly at Tommy’s crude jokes and even get Joel, who is slightly drunk himself, to dance with you for a few minutes.

When you finally retreat to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you somehow already sense Joel’s presence behind you before he speaks up.

“Hey,” he murmurs as you turn around, his gaze trained on the floor at your feet.

“Hey,” you echo, searching his face, “what’s up?”

He rubs his neck, a mannerism that you’ve come to connect with him feeling uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “I know I’ve been acting weird around you the past week, and…” he trails off again, still not meeting your gaze. Joel has never been good at expressing his feelings, and you can’t deny that you’re curious about what he’s going to say. You knew that it hadn’t been just about work stuff. Joel takes a deep breath, seemingly steeling himself for what he’s about to tell you.

“I didn’t- shit, I’m not good at this.” He rubs his neck again. “I didn’t want you to go out with that guy. And I know that that’s no excuse, but I wanted… I wanted you to go out with me. I’ve wanted that for quite some time, honestly. And I never knew how to tell you, I didn’t want to ruin the friendship that we have, but then that- that fuckin’ guy came along and I just thought, what if I had my chance and I missed it? But still, I shouldn’t have put that on you, I-”

You interrupt his rambling when you step into his space and place your hand on his upper arm, his gaze finally flying up to meet yours.

“You wanted… to go out with me?” you whisper, almost not able to believe what you’ve just heard.

“I- yes. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’ll never mention it again, I just wanted you to know.” He shrugs helplessly and you can’t help the smile that’s slowly growing on your face.

“Joel,” you murmur, taking another step closer to him. “I’d love to go out with you. I never thought- you never said anything, and I didn’t want to make things awkward between us, but…”

This might be it, the moment that you’ve always hoped for but never thought would happen.

“I like you. More than as a friend. I mean, I really like you.”

Now you’re avoiding his gaze, feeling heat flush your cheeks at your admission. You feel his fingers on your chin, tilting your face up to meet his warm brown eyes, so close to you.

“Guess we’ve both been kinda idiots,” he smirks.

A grin is slowly spreading on your face. “Guess so.”

He leans towards you and your eyes slowly close, just before his lips touch yours.

None of you are aware of the audience that’s observing the both of you from the living room.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Tommy mutters as he leans back into the couch and takes another sip of whiskey. Sarah and Ellie both sigh in agreement.

thank you so much for reading! if you liked it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment - nothing would make me happier 🫶🏻

#secret santa 2023 #val <3 #janas fics #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedrostories

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daddyricsdoll · 8 months

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✩ ♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Hello and welcome!! I'm Celina, an aries and aspiring WAG. I love my queen Lana Del Rey, as well as Arctic Monkeys, Måneskin, The neighbourhood and soooo many more! Literature from old poetry to dark romance satisfies me, and after smut, fluff is one of my favourite things to exist. McLaren is my favourite team with Lewis, Lando and Oscar being my favourite drivers. I also love football Liverpool and Real Madrid are my favourite teams.

I also have a side blog where I reblog things that don't relate to F1, like football and Beta Squad. Although I’m not too active on there. But I have recently started writing football fics on here too!!

My requests are closed but you can still send me the kinkiest and unholy thoughts you have, I'm probably thinking them too. Or play it safe with fluff. Things that don’t relate to f1 at all are welcome too and many thanks from everyone who has interacted with my blog. 💗

Fics are oldest-top and newest-bottom.

© Don’t be afraid to reblog or comment but please do not copy my work. I work hard to write and publish it for people on this platform which also means I own it. Majority if not all of it is 18+ so you are warned. I do think it’s best for minors to not interact with the smut, but I can’t stop you like no one could with me. Anyways, I hope you have a stunning day!

1k ✭ Celebration!!

Latest work: Vanilla? ✭ Oscar Piastri

Personal favourites: To Love ✭ Lando Norris and Pleasure ✭ Paul Aron

Most popular: Vanilla? ✭ Oscar Piastri

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Last Christmas ✭ Lando Norris- Smut 1.9k

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Masquerade ✭ Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri- Smut 2.2k

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Now ✭ Lando Norris- Smut 1.5k

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From my 1k celebration! Summary: "If your parents weren't here you'd be on your hands and knees."

Daniel Ricciardo

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Carlos Sainz

Truth or Dare ✭ Carlos Sainz -Smut 1.5k words

Summary: You go to your best friends house for a distraction, but her boyfriend intrudes on that and you are left alone, until her brother comes along and decides a little game of truth or dare can be a distraction.

Far ✭ Carlos Sainz- Smut 0.8k

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The guy coming home to me ✭ Carlos Sainz- Fluff? 0.7k words

Summary: Investing in a F1 team in the middle of your worldwide tour was very outrageous and threw many questions at you. But of course they didn't know that you happened to date one of the drivers in the team, until a concert in Singapore.

Sebastian Vettel

Clandestine ✭ Sebastian Vettel -Smut 1.1k words

Summary: You lay on your bed masturbating imagining it's your dads young german friend that happens to be downstairs. You moan a little too loud and then someone opens the door.

Oscar Piastri

Soft ✭ Oscar Piastri- Smut 0.5k words

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Masquerade ✭ Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri-Smut 2.2k

Summary: A night at a masquerade ball ended much better than you had ever dreamed of. Starting with two men and one you.

Good Boy ✭ Oscar Piastri- Smut 1.3k

Summary: You love Oscar so much, especially when he's a good boy and you have control. And for being such a good boy you think Oscar deserves to cum many times.

Sensitive ✭ Oscar Piastri- Smut 0.3k

Summary: Just one more for Oscar, you knew he could take it.

Vanilla? ✭ Oscar Piastri- Smut 1.6k

Summary: It's always the quiet ones that are the freakiest. But that wasn't what every other driver on the grid thought as they teased Oscar and you for being too innocent to know anything beyond vanilla sex. So when you guys didn't put up a fight, they figured they were right... until someone was lucky enough to see you and Oscar on the other end of the spectrum of "plain sex".

Hold you- Fluff 0.2k

This is part of my 1k celebration! Summary: "Can I hold you?"

Ollie Bearman

First ✭ Ollie Bearman- Smut 1.1k words

Summary: Ollie deserves a reward after that amazing win in Monza.

Friends? ✭ Ollie Bearman- Smut 1.9k

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Sweet ✭ Ollie Bearman- Smut 0.9k words

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Hate but I love you too ✭ Ollie Bearman - Smut 2.7k words

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You ✭ Ollie Bearman- Smut 1k

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Benefits ✭ Ollie Bearman- Smut 1k

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Max Verstappen

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George Russell

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Lewis Hamilton

Please ✭ Lewis Hamilton- Smut 2.1k

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Shut up- Smut 0.4k

From my 1k celebration! Summary: "Do you ever shut up?" "Only when I'm eating you out."

Liam Lawson

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Summary: There was no doubt everyone beamed with smiles after Liam scored his maiden points in F1, which meant the race debrief between the two of you couldn't be the same as others. And you made sure of that.

Paul Aron

Pleasure ✭ Paul Aron- Smut 1.3k

Summary: Paul had the opportunity to drive a beautiful car, and have a beautiful passenger next to him. So why not make the most of it?

Jude Bellingham

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More coming soon... but while you wait you can look at some wallpapers!

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aziraphales-library · 7 days

Note

hi! i don't know if this ask has been done before but do you have any comedy fic recs? i've had enough of angst for a bit and i just want to read aziracrow bicker and laugh out loud :))

Hey. We have #humour, #humor, #crack, and #bickering tags, for all your laughing needs. Here are more to add...

Seamstress of Soho by GayDemonicDisaster (M)

Season 2 spoilers! When Mrs. Sandwich spots a suspicious new guy apparently lurking on her turf, the misunderstanding leads to an unlikely friendship between the ‘seamstress’ and a demon. So in episode 6 we see that Mrs. Sandwich is clearly at ease with Crowley and he with her, enough to share a joke together. Combine that with the curious sign on her door which might just be referring to Crowley, and we have a little buddy comedy in the making. I decided to explore the backstory of how they came to know one another between season 1 and the beginning of season 2. While this little comedy is about sex workers, there is NO sex in it, and rated M solely for oblique references to things like contraceptive devices and so on - honestly it could get away with a “teen and up” rating but I like to err on the side of caution.

Pass the Remote, Angel by Mrs_Cake_Is_Here (M)

Aziraphale has returned to Heaven, leaving Crowley a tv binge-watching wreck. However, healing can come from the most unlikeliest of places. While Muriel has been instructed to provide daily reports of the demon’s emotional state, they find that sharing time together, even by watching a scary show, can be the catalyst that builds friendships. And they’d probably both be couch potatoes by now if the Supreme Archangel hadn’t just gone missing.

Christmas Lights by FuzzyGoblin (T)

Christmas Lights is on the agenda at the monthly meeting of the Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association, but it's not the only thing on Mr Brown's, of Brown's World of Carpets, mind. As he pines for the mysterious bookseller, his efforts are thwarted by the tall ginger goth.

The Book Thieves by ThingsJustHappenSometimes (T)

“Did they steal it? Professional book thieves, probably going around in their car stealing books.” Be careful what you tell an adolescent antichrist who has the ability to warp reality, he might just make things real. - - - Featuring: A confused ineffable duo in ridiculous costumes, a presumed relationship, overpowered magical books, meddling humans, multiple chase scenes, and a generally all around silly action-packed time. - - - [If you like 1920s Costumes, Indiana Jones, Isekai Vibes, and/or That-One-Auction-Heist-Scene from Uncharted 4, you’ll like this story.]

Rattle Those Pots & Pans by Mackaley (M)

“My instructions…” He parted his mouth as he searched for a word. “Instruct that I just get right into it. You all have been brought here tonight because you have one thing in common: you’re all being blackmailed.” A tense hush fell through the room. “You’re all paying what you can afford - in some cases I’m sure more than you can afford - to prevent your secrets from being exposed. And none of you know who is currently blackmailing you.” Gabriel scoffed. “This is ridiculous. I’m an upstanding member of the international finance community - what could I possibly have done to be blackmailed about?” “You’re a member of the international finance community,” Crowley drawled. ----- A Good Omens Clue (1985) AU

through the tides by viperinz (T)

With that thought, Aziraphale takes to asking experts if his feelings are something more or just love for his dearest, most sweetest friend. If he wasn’t sure himself, then surely the experts on the internet will have something for him. Which brings him to the front of his computer, ready to search something up on the search engine he has pulled up. He’s not one to ask too many questions, but he supposes it won’t hurt. He starts typing, and is satisfied with his search of "Am I in love with my best friend?" Straight to the point, and very concise. Aziraphale has no doubt he’ll find what he’s looking for. He presses enter on the keyboard, and a bunch of results flood in. “Oh, dear,” he gasps at the mass amount of answers. Where is he supposed to start?

Aziraphale discovers the wonderful world of online love quizzes and WikiHow, all in the process of wooing and confessing his love to Crowley.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #humour #mod d

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cranberrymoons · 6 months

Text

may your days be merry

prompt: angst with a happy ending (@steddieholidaydrabbles) word count: 942 rated: t tags: post-s2, steve has head trauma, eddie sells drugs

welcome to Day 14 of the fic advent calendar – bite-sized fics posting every day during the month of december. enjoy!

The headaches start shortly after the second time he gets his ass kicked.

The ass-kicking happens around Halloween, and the headaches start around Thanksgiving, and he buys weed from Eddie Munson for the first time around Christmas.

He can mark it out like that: holiday after holiday, little milestones in the deterioration of his brain. He wonders if it’s going to do something to him long-term: the weed or the ass-kicking or the headaches themselves or maybe even all of it.

Probably.

A guy doesn’t usually get his brain punched through the back of his skull without some sort of lasting consequence.

The first time he buys, it’s out of desperation more than any real desire to get high; it’s been days since he properly slept, migraines acting up again and making it so that his scalp feels like it’s going to dissolve into atoms and vibrate off his head if he actually lays down all the way, so he’s been sleeping sitting up.

Sort of, propped on a stack of pillows culled from the rest of the house, but it’s not exactly the most comfortable arrangement. One of the guys on the swim team had mentioned that weed can help chill you out, turn off your brain, make it so your thoughts don’t go spinning out in a thousand different directions like Steve’s do if he’s not careful about keeping a tight hold on his head.

Literally, figuratively.

His head’s all sorts of out to get him lately, ever since last year.

The first headache, the worst one – not worst in the sense of worst pain, but worst in the sense of like… he just wasn’t expecting it, and so it really fucked up his whole week – that headache came two days before Thanksgiving, when he was on a plane halfway between Indianapolis and New York to visit his grandparents. His parents were sitting two rows ahead of him and unable to help as the changing pressure in the cabin turned his brain to splinters.

By the time they’d landed, the headache had gone away, and so he didn’t mention it, but then it came again and again and again, and so now he’s here.

Here in the doorway of Eddie Munson’s trailer, feeling like he hasn’t slept in days, because he hasn’t. Feeling like there’s nothing holding him up except sheer force of will. Feeling so, so impossibly alone.

When Eddie answers the door, there’s an old movie playing on the TV in the background, something festive and cheerful with a bunch of songs in it. Steve’s eyes catch on the screen as he watches Bing Crosby tap dance in technicolor.

“What do you want?” Eddie repeats, ducking his head to force Steve to meet his eye. He even snaps his fingers a few times to get his attention. “Weed? Coke? Party drugs?”

Steve blinks, long and slow. He sways a little on the spot, clears his throat.

“Not partying,” he says quietly. He looks down at his feet in his sneakers and Eddie’s feet in his socks, the two of them only a foot apart. “I just need to sleep.”

A line appears between Eddie’s eyebrows. He tilts his head toward Steve. “Are you like… okay?”

And that’s – Steve lets out a little laugh that sounds something like a sob, and that’s –

“No.” He runs a hand back through his hair. “No, man. I’m not okay.”

No one’s asked him that in at least a year. He feels like crying. He thinks he actually might.

Eddie nods slowly, taking him in. “Right on,” he says. Then he opens the door a little wider. “You want to come in? Christmas movie marathon.”

Steve raises his eyebrows, looks between Eddie and the room behind him. “You want to hang out with me?”

“If you’ll deign to grace me with your royal presence,” Eddie says. He widens his eyes, and it’s a little teasing. A little funny, and Steve feels the corners of his mouth twitch with the first smile he’s had in days as Eddie swings the door even wider, letting him inside with a weird little bow and a flourish. “My liege.”

“What’re you watching?” Steve asks as he shrugs out of his coat.

He hangs it neatly on the hook near the door and looks around the room as Eddie clatters to the fridge to pull out two beers, cracking both open and passing one to him. Steve accepts it, leaning his hip against the counter as Eddie stares at him from where he’s relaxed back against the sink.

“White Christmas,” he says. “But it sucks.”

Steve laughs a little – an actual laugh, bubbling up out of his chest before he can stop it. He takes a swig of his own beer and glances back toward the screen.

“Got any other options?”

Eddie grins. “Gremlins.”

Steve frowns, shaking his head. “That’s not a Christmas movie.”

“What?” Eddie scoffs. “Please, it totally is.”

“In what way is Gremlins a Christmas movie?”

Eddie’s eyes flash as he pushes himself off the counter, giving Steve a look as he passes by on his way to the living room. He collapses on the couch, feet up on the coffee table.

“Guess I’ll just have to prove it to you,” he says, tilting his head to the side.

And Steve – exhausted and relieved because his headache is all but forgotten – crosses the room to join him, curling his legs under himself as he sinks down to sit. Eddie’s eyes skate over him as he reaches for the remote, face unreadable, and Steve just smiles back.

[also on ao3]

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #my fic

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destieltropecollection · 28 days

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 15: Witch Magic or Curses

The Language of Wings | @tami-ryver Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,070 Main Tags/Warnings: Cursed Castiel (Supernatural), Wingfic, Angel Wings, Seraph Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Can See Castiel's Wings, Worried Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester is Loved, First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Fluff, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Angel Courtship (Supernatural) Summary: Dean gasps. He can't see anything and there is something in the room with him and Cas. Something different. His hand aches to hold a knife, a gun, something to defend himself.

True Love Wins | @bookwithwings Rating: General Word Count: 1,179 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Secret Relationship, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, is it established when it's secret? idk, Cursed Dean Winchester, Spells & Enchantments, fairytale trope, canonverse Summary: After coming back from a witch hunt something is seriously wrong with Dean. Cas and Sam consult Rowena for help. She has an idea what might help.

La Verdad | @thisisapaige Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,432 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Curses,Truth Spells, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Summary: Castiel gets hit by a witch's spell on a hunt— a curse that compels him to speak the truth. To keep his deepest secret unsaid, all he has to do is remain silent and avoid Dean. That should be easy, right?

curse and birds | @dcforts Rating: General Word Count: 1,600 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Comedy, Love Confessions, Accidental Curse, True Love, Men of Letters Bunker, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Christmas fic Summary: Cas shows up on the third day with the french hens and the turtle doves and the partridge in tow.

Of Curses and Bee-Colored Mittens | @Destielshipper4Cas Rating: General Word Count: 3,232 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Castiel, Strangers to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Omega Castiel, Alpha Dean, First Kiss, Alternate Universe – Magic, Familiar Dean Summary: After Castiel gets cursed by an evil witch, all his once-healing touch does is hurt people. He has learned to live with the fact that he can never touch anyone ever again. But a tenacious alpha doesn’t get the memo that being around him is dangerous.

Conjured | @Destielshipper4Cas Rating: General Word Count: 4,260 Main Tags/Warnings: Witch Castiel, Human Dean, Strangers to Lovers, Pining, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Omega Castiel, Alpha Dean, Alternate Universe - Magic Summary: Lonely and unable to fall asleep, witch Castiel conjures an alpha to cuddle with. Night after night from midnight until one a.m. Falling in love with his own spell is a bad idea on many levels. If only Dean didn’t seem so real…

With Magic All Around | @Destielshipper4Cas Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,500 Main Tags/Warnings: King Dean Winchester, Witch Cas, Commoner Cas, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed, Omega Castiel, Alpha Dean, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, First Kiss, Happy Ending Summary: Castiel is King Dean’s court witch. During an inventory of all magical items in the castle, he touches an enchanted golden ball and is now carrying the Winchester heir.

imagine being loved by me | @abi-cosmos Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,659 Main Tags/Warnings: Porn with feelings, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Awkward first times, Motels, Romantic angst, Canon divergence: season 5, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, unclear feelings, Castiel gets cursed by a witch Summary: When Castiel gets cursed by a hunger spell, novelty dick-shaped waffles lead to everything that Dean Winchester wants. (Set around season five.)

Virginia is for Lovers | inkdr0p (AO3) Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,010 Main Tags/Warnings: Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Original Male Character(s), Case Fic, Witches, Dean Winchester Hates Witches, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Nearly Human Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Prayer, Cursed Dean Winchester, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Diners, Dean Winchester and Food, Castiel Does Not Care About Gender Norms (Supernatural), Witch Sam Winchester, but not totally; he's just not afraid to admit that hunters do magic too, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel Drives the Impala (Supernatural), Castiel Wears Dean Winchester's Clothes, Castiel Gets New Clothes (Supernatural), Hunt Gone Wrong, Hurt Dean Winchester, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester, Castiel Being Castiel (Supernatural), Idiots in Love Summary: “Oh.” Castiel reaches down and plucks something long and thick and black from the folds of Dean’s shirt, then holds his open palm up to his face, fascinated. “Cas,” Slowly, gingerly, Dean pushes himself up into a seated position, thrilled to be able to finally move but aware of how stiff he is from having lain on the cold ground all night. From his new position he can see something coiling around one of Cas’ fingers. “Forget the centipede, Cas.” “It’s a millipede.” “What?” “It’s a millipede. Centipedes have a single pair of legs per body segment, while millipedes have two." On one hand it’s very Cas of him to get hung up on a bug in the middle of a hunt, but on the other with two very noticeable corpses right nearby and the sun starting its rise in the east, they don't have the time or luxury to let this play out. ---------------- In which Dean accidentally gets himself cursed while on vacation, Cas has to help him work the case while accepting that he's not quite the angel he used to be, and Sam has to explain very basic magic to a guy who really should already know this stuff.

desire (I want to turn into you) | @alulangel Rating: Explicit Word Count: 10,192 Main Tags/Warnings: Cursed Castiel, Love Potion/Spell, Cosmic Horniness, opposite of cosmic horror, PWP, blasphemy, Castiel’s True Form, blow job, come sharing, anal sex, top!cas/bottom!dean, stabbing to climax, set in some indeterminate time during canon don’t worry about it Summary: When Cas and the Winchesters go after a witch, they wind up in the crosshairs of a misfired spell. Luckily it hits Cas, and surely a love spell will have no effect on an angel. But Castiel has questions. Castiel has doubts. For what might be the first time, Castiel feels... And what he feels is his fascination with Dean Winchester turn into a cosmic, unending, incomprehensible HUNGER.

A Prince's Guide To Wooing A Would-Be Wife (Without The Requisite Curse, Dragon, Kidnapping, Riddles Three, Or Traditional Peril Of Any Sort) | @an-android-in-a-tutu Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,708 Main Tags/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, John Winchester, Naomi (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Princes & Princesses, Arranged Marriage, Curses, Enemies to Lovers, Trans Castiel (Supernatural), Gay Dean Winchester, Hair Kink, Body Hair, Feminization Summary: Dean is a Good Prince, he does what Good Princes do: Rescue Damsels and slay Dragons. As well as solve riddles, preform impossible tasks with the help of animal companions, break curses, collect golden apples, outwit ogres and trolls, and complete any number of oddball tasks (usually in sets of three.) The only thing he can't seem to accomplish is the happily ever after: at the end of the day, of all the Princesses (or Ladies, or Second Cousins twice removed of a Duke, or simple farm girls with oddly specific birth marks) he rescues, none of them ever end up riding home with him on the back of his noble steed to live with him in happily wedded bliss. It was probably only a matter of time before his parents took the issue out of his hands. It's a Fool who plays their hand against Fate, but Fate doesn't seem to be dealing to Dean, and there's the line of succession to consider. Dean hardly minds, he's a dutiful son after all, and he's used to true love passing him by. As long as he and his wife-to-be treat each other with kindness, he's sure they can figure out how to get along. If only Princess Castiel would give him the time of day, he might be able to convince her of that too.

The Hunter's Oath | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 19,895 Main Tags/Warnings: Fantasy AU, Celestial Castiel, Slow Build, Cabin Fic, Isolation, Castiel and Dean Have a Profound Bond, Angst Summary: Tasked with the important tradition of fulfilling an Oath to a celestial being, Dean is feeling the weight of loneliness more and more, after years of isolation on the mountain. Until one night, he is gifted a surprise: the god himself shows up with the desire to explore their bond for a time. Dean goes along with it, having no choice, and prays that nobody notices he might have failed to keep the mountain undisturbed. When he learns more about his new companion and the truth behind the legend, however, Dean finds himself picturing a different kind of life. One that isn’t as solitary. And perhaps, even more peaceful than anticipated.

It's all very complex | @artichokegarden Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,065 Main Tags/Warnings: First Time, Porn Watching, Masturbation, Castiel Has a Sexual Awakening, Sex Pollen, Fuck Or Die, Dubious Consent, Hand Feeding, Spanking, Roleplaying, The Pizza Man, Dean Winchester Wears a Cowboy Hat, Doctor Kink, Sex Toys, Angelic Possession, Angelic Grace Sex, Sex in/on the Impala, Porn with Feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Humor Summary: “You don’t have to turn it off,” said Cas. “Humans get unnecessarily embarrassed about sex.” “Yeah well. Blame the bible. Angels have been known to get pretty judgy about it all.” Dean twirled the remote control distractedly. A thought seemed to strike him. He looked at Cas curiously. “Have you ever – I mean after April and all – did you ever … go on a journey of self discovery?” Cas stared at him. “Tamed the snake? Spanked the monkey? Made the beast with one back?” Cas looked at him. Dean made a small furtive gesture with his hand. Realization dawned. “No, Dean. That’s not something I ever felt the need to do.” “Right. Yeah." Dean turned away. "Well, angels are missing out.” After walking in on Dean's private time, Cas decides to do a little research and experimentation of his own and gets magically trapped in a book about sexual fantasies. And if that means Dean has to go in after him, well what are buddies for, right?

The Silence of Souls | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Mature Word Count: 33,685 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Season 13, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Godstiel, Dean Bears the Mark of Cain, Team Free Will 2.0, Trauma, Angst, Mentioned Past AU Rowena/Sam Summary: After receiving an unexpected phone call from Patrick, a witch who Sam and Dean encountered years ago, Team Free Will 2.0 leave Dodge City behind and rush to meet him in Wichita. The reason: He claims to know a way that could help Mary cross back to their universe. His demands are reasonable and the spell is simple, but Patrick warns them that the spell is not without risks. After all, the universe always has a way of balancing itself out. Not thrilled at the idea of potentially releasing something bad into the world, they nevertheless think that Mary’s safety is worth the risk. So, the original Team Free Will cast the spell, with Jack by their side, ready to assist them against any surging danger. Unfortunately, what is unleashed upon them is far more troubling than anything they had anticipated. It’s the spell-casters’ darkest versions of themselves. Namely, Godstiel, the Boy King of Hell and Deanmon, bearer of the mark of Cain. And all three of them are determined to make themselves very comfortable in their new home.

Strawberry Moon | @casblackfeathers Rating: Explicit Word Count: 115,403 Main Tags/Warnings: bottom!dean, bottom!castiel, reunion, slow burn, friends to lovers, fluff, angst with a happy ending, familiar!dean, witch!castiel, hurt!dean, hurt!castiel, protective!dean, protective!castiel, jealous!castiel, john winchester being an asshole, soft!dean, soft!castiel, neighbors Summary: As a child, Castiel used to fall asleep with his mother telling him bedtime stories of the prophecy she had foreseen for him — how the Strawberry Moon would one day reveal the familiar he was destined to be with. However, it’s been twelve years since the heart-wrenching day Castiel last saw the one he hoped was meant for him, and at twenty-eight, with his magic quickly dwindling, he knows better than to keep believing in such foolish dreams. Castiel's resolve falters with the return of his long-ago teenage crush, Dean. The familiar’s evergreen eyes and rainbow aura are still as captivating, but his past is shrouded in mystery, one that could hold the answer to what drove them apart all those years ago. Maybe the peculiar tabby cat who seems to have taken a liking to Castiel is what it takes to make Castiel believe in the moon with shades of pink again.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #witch magic #curses

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jksprincess10 · 7 months

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Joel Miller masterlist

✰ : contains smut

☾ : contains dark themes

☁ : contains fluff

ϟ : contains angst

dividers by @saradika

Mini Multi-chapter fics (completed)

*for multi-chapter fics, read warnings on each chapter's page

My boyfriend's parents (Tess x Joel x reader): After Chad cheated on you, his father shows you what a real man is like. His wife joins in.

My boyfriend’s dad

My ex boyfriend’s parents

The neighbor’s daughter: (dad’s neighbor! joel x reader, no outbreak AU)

Home, sweet home

Pool party

Hello again

She knows

Trust

Lucky for me, I run on spite and sweet revenge (Joel x ennemy ! reader)

Lucky for me, I run on spite and sweet revenge

I can sabotage me by myself

Everyone is a bad guy

The handyman (Jackson ! Joel and reader) : You break your bed and you ask Joel to fix it.

The handyman

The handyman part 2

Birthday: (dbf!joel x reader) : You meet your dad's best friend at the bar where you're celebrating your birthday.

Mr Miller’s birthday gift

Happy birthday, Mr Miller

Long Multi-chapter fics (completed)

Dressed for revenge (Joel x nb!oc): A cult. A lost human wandering like a ghost. A world infested by cordyceps. A care taker. A little girl who’s immune. A newly formed trio on a quest to vengeance, but also on a quest to find themselves.

Masterlist for dressed for revenge

Long Multi-chapter fics (in progress)

Something in the shadows When a girl is found by Ellie just outside of Jackson, covered in what seems to be scratches from a beast, the community realizes that the infected might not be the only monsters out there.

Masterlist for Something in the shadows

Oneshots and requests

Big man, little dignity ✰ ϟ: Joel saves your hopeless ass and he gets stuck with you for a while, but it doesn't seem to bother him.

Rooting for the antihero ✰ ϟ: You and your “business” partner, Joel, go out of the QZ for a deal. Everything goes to shit and feelings are revealed.

I’m starvin’, darling ✰ : dbf!joel insists that you sit on his face.

Famous last words ☾ ✰: you're Joel's ennemy and he has you trapped to perform sweet torture on your body.

Save your cowboy ϟ ✰: You learn that Joel is from Texas and you take pleasure in calling him cowboy.

Looking for love ☁ : You're a divorced mother who takes wood working classes in hopes to find the right man.

The first time you met a clicker ϟ ☁ : You and Joel get attacked by a clicker.

Horseback flirting ✰: You get excited and flirtatious during a horse ride with Joel.

Bella ☁: Taking a bath with Joel.

No bullies : Professor!Joel defends plus size!reader who gets bullied.

Surprise party ϟ ✰: Sarah is your best friend and you've been in love with her dad since forever.

Warming you up ✰ : Joel warms you up at night.

Only angel ✰: You ask Joel to take your virginity before a date with another man from Jackson.

5+1 ☁: 5 times Joel Miller did something for you and 1 time he did something for himself.

Cardigan ϟ ✰: You fall in love with your dad's boss and it's a beautiful disaster.

Epiphany ϟ ✰: Your new neighbor is a war veteran with a lot of scars

Attraction spell ✰☾ : Vampire!joel stalks you and takes you for himself.

Devour ✰: You make Joel dress up as a werewolf on Halloween and you pay for it.

Sleep ✰: Joel fucks you in your sleep.

Evening softness✰☁ : You and Joel talk about your respective days at work.

Doing the work ✰: Joel's back hurts and he wishes he could please you. So you offer to ride him.

Tis the damn season ✰☁: You finally hope to get Joel Miller's attention at your annual family Christmas party (dbf!joel)

Playing Santa ✰☁: Joel dresses up as Santa for the kids of Jackson. It shouldn't turn you on as much as it does.

A bad deal ☾✰: Joel disrespects you and you make him pay for it. (non con, dark fic)

Take it✰: Your ex-girlfriend's father punishes you.

Morning voice ✰: Joel whispering filth in your ear with his raspy morning voice while he fucks you. (drabble)

Soft & quiet ✰ :Joel is eating you out in the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison. (300 words drabble)

#masterlist #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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oddinary4bts · 11 months

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The Forgotten Spaces | ch 14 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in this chapter)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: things might get emotional in this one, jungkook's photo exposition, oc's mom call once, laura is there but we don't care about that anymore, do we?, curse words, explicit content: mentions of pain kink and choking kink, dom!jk, brat!reader, hair pulling, oral sex (male and female receiving), mouth fucking, fingering, edging, unprotected sex (don't be stupid)

☆word count: 13k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: It's the last chapter and I am so so so emotional about it. The Forgotten Spaces was a journey, and I can't believe it's coming to an end. To think I started writing this in January... it's been forever. Thank you for reading me, for sending me all these asks and interacting with me so much over this fic. It means a lot! I hope you'll enjoy this last chapter just as much as you've enjoyed the others <3

☆a/n pt 2:Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Saturday, December 1st

You’ve been feeling Jungkook’s eyes darting to you almost every minute now, like he’s synchronized with the minute hand of a clock. You’re studying in your apartment, finals inching closer with every passing day. Yesterday evening, you went to buy a real Christmas tree, and the aroma of the branches has been playing with your nose since you sat down at the coffee table to study. Jungkook is sitting at the kitchen counter, and he’s long stopped looking at his laptop in front of him. The screen went black, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You catch his gaze when his eyes dart to you once more, and you cock an eyebrow in question. He chuckles, and his eyes slide to his dark screen.

“What’s up with you?” you ask.

He shrugs, and taps on the touchpad. His screen comes back to life, and he types in his password. “Nothing.”

You squint your eyes, glancing at the book you’ve been highlighting from. You reckon you could use a break, so you put the highlighter down, getting up from your spot to walk to where Jungkook is sitting.

“Doesn’t seem like it’s nothing,” you whisper, and you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder. He’s studying for his anatomy final, and you read along with him as you wait for him to reply.

He shrugs, and his tattooed hand shoots up to hold onto your wrist. He traces figures with his thumb on your skin, and turns his head to look at you.

“What do you want for Christmas?” he asks.

His question takes you by surprise. And you don’t know what you want, you’ve never had a boyfriend to get gifts from and give presents to.

A boyfriend… You haven’t used the label yet. At least not out loud. But you think both of you know without needing to say it.

“Mmh,” you hum. “I don’t know. I didn’t think we were doing presents.”

You can hear the frown in his voice when he speaks. “I want to treat you.”

You laugh, pressing a peck to the side of his neck. “Can I choose an activity instead of a gift? I like spending time with you.”

“You want me to take you out on a date?”

It’s not something you’ve been doing a lot. The honeymoon phase led to you spending more time alone, at your place. Never being able to get enough of the other, passion and desire leading the dance between you two. But you reckon you’d like to go on a date with him, to go to museums and laugh at the art together. To grab dinner with him in a fancy restaurant, and pretend you know anything about wine.

Well, you do, a little. But you’ve never seen Jungkook drinking wine before, which gives you an idea after all.

“What about a wine degustation? I’ve heard there’s a nice little winery just outside of the city.”

“I don’t drive, and I assume you’d want to drink, no?” he points out.

You press another kiss to his neck, and watch the goosebump forming on his skin. “We can go by train.”

He shifts a little, turning to fully look at you. “Alright then. I’ll take you to a nice winery, and I’ll get you some nice wine. That sounds like a good present for a good girl.”

“Kook,” you whine, and you pull away to punch him playfully on the shoulder. “You’re annoying.”

“You love me.”

You glare at him, as he just offers you that lopsided grin that makes you all giddy inside.

“Do I?”

He grabs your face, kisses your forehead and pulls away. “Yes.”

You hum, shrugging. “Maybe.”

He pouts, and you brush it away with your thumb. Your hand lingers on his cheek, and his face falls serious. You lean closer to kiss him softly and he melts under you. He pulls you so you’re in front of him instead of behind, as his lips work against yours.

You’ll never get tired of kissing him.

“What do you want for Christmas?” you ask once you’ve finally pulled away, and his forehead is resting against yours.

“I won’t be as cheesy as you,” he teasingly answers. “There’s this game I’ve wanted for a while? Maybe you could get me that. It’s multiplayer, we could try to play together?”

“Isn’t Tae your gaming buddy?” You’re teasing him, because in truth you’d love to game with him. You’ve liked watching him play so far, and you reckon playing with him could also be fun.

“You could be one too!” he insists. “We could get Jo to play with us, I’m sure she’d love it.”

You laugh, softly, before pecking his lips once more. “Sounds good. I’ll get the game for you.”

He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. His thighs are on each side of you, and you can’t resist but run your hands up and down, feeling his muscles.

“You’re the best.”

When he kisses you again, it feels different. More intense, languid, and you immediately know where it’s going to lead. You reckon you’ve wanted a break, and indulging in Jungkook seems like a good way to do it. So you let him press you against him, while you keep dragging your hands on his thighs.

He pulls away, and you move to his jaw, and then to his neck, leaving a trail of hot wet kisses behind. He breathes in sharply, tilting his head to give you better access.

“Should we go to your bedroom?” he breathlessly asks, and you nod while you suck a mark on his skin. He hisses, and his gaze is dark when you step away from him to head towards your bedroom.

He follows you, hand finding yours so you can pull him behind you. The moment you’re in your bedroom he loses all restraints, grabbing your face to crash his lips against yours. You think you can taste blood, but it’s hard to form coherent thoughts when he kisses you like that, like he’s been starved for so long. Like he needs you to replace the oxygen in his lungs and the blood in his veins.

It’s mind-numbing, and you hold onto his shirt, clutching it in your fists. You almost want to tear the fabric off his body, but you like his shirt – he looks good in it. You don’t want to ruin it. But the way he’s kissing you right now… you’re pretty sure he wants to ruin you. And you want to let him do it, want him to use you.

He’s good at it. Sex with him just keeps getting better and better, as you get to know each other’s body more every day. You know how he likes pain – whether it’s your nails digging in his back, your teeth in his shoulder, or your hand clutching his balls while you suck his dick. He knows you like it as well, especially when he chokes you or slaps your ass. It works well together, and you feel like he was made for you, through every aspect of your relationship.

Jungkook is perfect for you, and you’re going to show him right now.

You pull away from the kiss, immediately dropping to your knees. The impact on the hardwood floor hurts, but you’re already busy pulling his joggers down his legs. Jungkook’s tongue is poking at his cheek, the only indication that he wanted to be the one pleasing you, but he doesn’t resist. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, before tangling it into his firm grip.

He’s soft. The bulge in his boxers is already big though, even if you know it grows a lot whenever he gets hard. He watches you carefully as you pepper small kisses on him through his boxers, hands caressing his thighs. You follow the line of his scar on his left line, massaging it gently as you tease his dick with your teeth, looking up at him innocently.

“Take them off,” he commands, and you tilt your head to the side.

“Why should I?”

A storm passes in his eyes, and he pulls on your hair, once. It hurts, but you hold onto the smirk on your lips, because you like being a brat with him. It makes the sex ten times better.

“That’s how you want it to be, uh?”

You bite your lips as one of your hands moves to the bulge. You palm him, and he sits heavy in your hand. He’s growing semihard already, and when you press a kiss to the tip, you’re pretty sure you’ve tasted precum. Just to make sure, you lap at him, and a satisfied smirk grows on your lips when Jungkook hisses.

“Don’t tease,” he warns, pulling on your hair once more. “I want to see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, mmh?”

“Do you?”

He clenches his jaw, tilting his head to the side. “And you want me to bring you out to a winery. Going to have to punish you first.”

“We both know you like it,” you tease.

His silence is answer enough, and you decide to finally give in to him. You hook your thumbs in his boxers, pulling them down in one swift motion. He steps out of them and kicks them somewhere in your room, while you look at his dick sitting prettily in front of your face.

He’s still just semihard. You’ll be able to deep throat him, and he sees it in your gaze as you grab the base of his dick.

“Be nice,” he warns. “Ease into it, baby.”

“Anything for you, Kook,” you purr, and then you dive in. Heading for one of his balls, sucking it in your mouth and twirling your tongue around it as you start jerking him off lazily, with not nearly enough pressure for what he likes.

He lets you do it only because you’re sucking on his ball, and when your teeth graze the sensitive organ, he pulls your head back so hard you actually wince.

“Sorry,” he immediately apologizes, releasing your hair. “Are you okay?”

You lick at his slit, tasting the precum. “I deserved it, uh? Don’t you want to punish me?”

“I…” he trails off when you suck hard on the tip once, hollowing your cheeks. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You pull away. “You’re good, Kook, you know I like it rough. I’ll tell you to stop if it’s too much.”

He doesn’t need more to grab a handful of your hair again, pushing your head towards his dick. “Then be a good girl and suck my dick, baby.”

You smirk, before obeying. He’s already gotten a little harder, so you take most of what you can in your mouth, jerking off the part that doesn’t fit. You tease the underside of his dick with your tongue, before swallowing around him. He grunts, throwing his head back, and you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows.

You keep at it for a while, feeling his dick getting harder and harder with every swipe of your tongue, every hollowing out of your cheeks. He’s grunting, breathing heavily, and it’s a melody to your ears. To know you’re the one pulling that out of him, the only one at that, makes you feel important.

“You want to take me all the way in?” he asks, voice dark and husky as his arousal starts to take over his mind. “I could fuck your mouth.”

That makes you pull away. “You could eat my pussy at the same time. Let’s see who’s going to come first.”

He smirks down at you. “We both know that’d be you. I already know you’re dripping for me.”

You are. You can’t lie. So you squeeze your thighs together, moaning softly before stuffing Jungkook’s cock in your mouth once again. You loosen up your throat, taking all of him in this time, and when he hits the back of your throat, you hold in the gag reflex.

His other hand finds your head too, and he holds you there, circling his hips slowly.

“Your mouth feels so fucking good,” he praises. “I’ll never get tired of it.”

And he doesn’t have to. You love sucking him dry, love swallowing his hot seed whenever he decides to come down your throat. You love pleasuring him, love everything when it comes to him.

Your eyes are tearing a little when Jungkook’s hips move back, but he still holds your head into place. When just his tip is still in your mouth, he says, “Can I fuck your mouth a little before we move to the bed?”

You nod, and he pushes back in, slowly. When he hits the back of your throat, you moan around him, and the grunt he lets out is heavenly.

And then he really starts fucking your mouth. Thrusting in and out, as your drool rolls on your chin. You just keep on moaning around him, trying to keep eye contact even though your eyes are tearing up more and more. Soon, his grunts morph into moans, and you almost think he’s going to come down your throat.

But he suddenly pulls away, his breathing ragged. “We got to stop here, I really want to fuck you.”

You pout. “I don’t mind you coming in my mouth.”

“After I’ve at least got to fuck you, babe. Then I’ll come down your throat and you’ll swallow everything for me.”

Mischief lights up your gaze as you nod, getting up. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

He’s back to kissing you in no time, his tongue assaulting your mouth. You suck on it as his hands grab at the meat of your ass, massaging it and forcing you to step impossibly close to him. His cock rests against your stomach, and you just want it to be buried inside of you already. So you force yourself to pull away from the kiss just long enough to say, “Bed?”

Jungkook nods, and then he picks you up swiftly. You giggle a little, because you know exactly what he’s going to do. And he does it, throwing you on your bed like your weight is nothing to him. You reckon you might seem weightless to him – he works out a lot, with the help of his physical therapist. It’s helped him with the pain in his leg, though he does sometimes complain about the itching and pulling of the scars still.

Whenever he does, you make sure to show him just how much you love his scars. And you think he’s started to love them too.

He takes off his shirt before joining you on the bed, hands pulling on your ankles to make you lie down. You yelp a little, mostly because it surprised you, but when he pulls your pants down, the yelp morphs into a small breathy sound. Especially as he presses soft kisses to the inside of your thigh once you’re naked, revering every inch of your skin. He’s left your panties on though, and you almost feel his gaze burning you through the fabric.

“You’ve soaked your panties,” he comments. “Always so ready for me.”

“I just want to have your cock buried in me,” you whine as his kisses move closer to your core.

He smirks against your skin, before softly biting into it. When you hiss, he uses his tongue to lap the sting away. “Then you shouldn’t have been a tease.”

You want to curse him, to tie him up on your bed so you can sit on him, so you can use his dick to pleasure yourself, but when he wraps his lips on your clit through your panties, you moan.

He’s quick to pull your panties to the side, tongue lapping at your entrance twice before he’s moved up to your clit. He draws circles on you, presses on the sensitive organ.

“You taste so good,” he praises. “So sweet.”

Your teeth dig in your bottom lip when he sucks hard. “Kook…”

“Baby.”

As if to reward you, one of his fingers finds your entrance. He teases it for a few seconds, before pushing in, ever so slowly. And then he arches it, finds the sweet spot that makes you see stars, and makes it his mission to make you come as quickly as he can. He pumps his finger, alternates pressing on your clit and sucking on it. A knot starts to form in your lower stomach, and he adds a second finger, adding scissoring motions to the ordeal.

That’s when you start moaning, unashamedly. Loudly, even though you think your neighbors might hear. You don’t care about that, just care about the feeling of the knot tightening and tightening inside of you. It’s about to snap when Jungkook entirely stops, pulling away from you, denying you the orgasm.

“You’ll come around my dick instead, uh?”

“Fuck,” you curse.

He’s only smirking, as he kneels between your legs. “Take off your shirt.”

You bite on your lower lip, sitting up just enough to pull on the fabric. Jungkook helps you, and when your breasts come into view he lets out an appreciative sigh.

“Always so fucking hot. I knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”

It’s your turn to smirk. “I know you like it when I don’t.”

“A good fucking girl indeed.” He bends down to kiss you stupid, and when you fall back on the bed he remains kneeling. His large hands cup your breasts, pushing them together. He seems to like what he sees, because he says, “One of these days I will have to fuck your breasts.”

You look down at yourself. “Don’t think I have enough for that to work.”

“Oh, trust me, baby. You’ve got plenty enough.”

On that note he aligns his dick with your entrance, holding your panties to the side once again. For some reason, he likes doing that. Fucking you while you’re still wearing your panties. Likes to ruin your underwear, until both of your juices are soaking them up.

Today is no different. He pushes all the way in, making your eyes fall shut at the sudden intrusion, and you moan loudly as he lets go of the panties to hold your waist instead.

“Now, you’re going to come around my dick, okay?” he tells you. “Tell me what to do to make you come.”

“Kook,” is all you can say as he pulls almost all the way out before fucking into you hard again. “My…” He starts going back and forth, quickly, and your mouth falls open on a broken moan. He’s stretching you wide open, and the usual burn only turns you on further, only brings back the knot in your stomach. You try to focus, and it takes you a few seconds before you’re able to form a sentence. “Rub on my clit,” you say.

He stills deep inside of you. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Kook.” You reach down, about to do it yourself when he grabs your hands, before holding both of them over your head. When he’s sure you won’t touch yourself again, he starts fucking into you, and he does rub on your clit with his thumb. His touch is light at first, testing your sensitivity, and when you beg for him to go harder, he obeys, timing the motions of his thumb with the back and forth of his hips.

Your hands find purchase on a pillow over your head, and you clutch it tight as you feel the knot returning. With his free hand, Jungkook grabs your neck, holding you into place. And when he starts feeling your walls clenching on him, his fingers dig into your arteries.

“Come for me, baby.”

You choke out a moan, as the sensations suddenly grow tenfold, and then everything snaps inside of you. You cry out his name, and he relaxes his grip on your neck as you come undone, walls pulsing around his shaft. He stills deep inside of you, probably in an attempt to not come too, and when you’re finally coming down from the high, he meets your gaze.

“Still want to swallow my cum, mmh?”

“Kook, fuck.” You chuckle a little. “You’re ready to come already?”

His features grow even darker, and you watch as beads of sweat roll on his cheek and on the side of his neck. “Nah, I think I want to fuck you stupid some more.”

“Shit,” is all you have time to mutter before he’s going at it again. Quick, hard, and he pulls your legs on his shoulders to hit inside of you at a better angle. You’re soon a moaning mess again, and your walls clench around him some more. He holds your legs in place, fucking into you so hard you think he’s rearranging your guts. He’s a grunting mess, and you watch him for a few seconds. He looks so good fucking you like that, chest flushed red, inked arm wrapped around your legs. His other hand is on your hip, fingers digging in the supple skin. Some of his hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead, and if you weren’t focused on letting him pleasure himself, using your pussy, you’d reach out between you to brush the hair away.

But you don’t care right now. You’re fucked out, blissed by the orgasm you just had and the pleasure he’s still bringing to you. You’re still sane enough to think about his leg, to be concerned that it’s going to hurt later, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care at all.

It takes a while before he slows down, and his movements are slow and languid when he speaks again. “I want to see your lips around my cock again.”

He lets go of your legs, pulling out of you. You miss him right away, but you want to pleasure him far more than you want him to be fucking you right now. So you get on all fours, before sitting back on your heels. Jungkook gets up, standing on the side of the bed, before holding out his hand for you to take.

You grab it, gently, and he pulls you closer to the side of the bed. Because it’s easier for him to come when he’s standing, and you know he’s holding the orgasm in already.

You sit on the side of the bed, before massaging his thighs once more. Eyes meeting his as he’s looking down at you, towering over you. You ignore his dick, but when he moves closer, tapping it on your lips, you can’t resist to lick at him.

All you taste on him is yourself, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more.

“Suck me, baby. I’m so close.”

“Fuck my mouth, then. Use me.”

“You think you can’t make me come?”

Oh, the little shit. You’re going to make him come just fine.

You look down, eyes following the vein on his dick. It’s glistening from your juices right now, and when you wrap your lips around his tip, you really do taste yourself. It’s a taste you’re getting used to, because Jungkook really does like to come down your throat.

You grab the base of his dick in one hand, using the other to palm at his balls. His insufferable smirk melts away as you start working on him, alternating sucking on his tip and playing with his frenulum with your tongue. He’s rock hard in your mouth, far harder than he was earlier, and you know he’s going to come in no time.

So you start bobbing your head up and down his shaft, swallowing around him whenever he hits the back of your throat. He’s a grunting mess, a moaning mess, by the time you start squeezing his balls, and you hold eye contact as you pleasure him.

“I’m in love with that fucking mouth of yours,” he says, and his eyes flutter shut. “You’re so fucking good.”

You moan around his dick, which in turn makes him hiss. And when he starts moving a little, his motions sloppy, you know he’s about to come. So you squeeze harder, suck harder, and moan around him as hot shots of his seed hit the back of your throat. You swallow it as he comes, listening to the chorus of moans and curses he’s letting out, with your name laced into it. It’s sinful, hot, and you think you could also come just listening to him like that.

When you’ve milked the last of his orgasm out of him, Jungkook pulls away, your mouth making a popping sound when he’s out. He chuckles, bending down to press a kiss on your forehead, before grabbing your jaw.

“You swallowed everything?”

Ever the obedient girl, you open your mouth to show him that you indeed did. He seems satisfied, and he kisses your forehead once more, before grabbing your hand. You already know he’s going to pull you to the shower, and you follow him, eyes falling to his ass.

He’s got a great ass. Not necessarily big, but it’s muscled, defined, and the thighs that complement it turns it into a work of art, in your opinion. You love Jungkook’s body, love the care that he puts into it, and you don’t think you’d get tired of looking at him.

He glances over his shoulder. “Like the view?”

You roll your eyes at him. “Shut up.”

“You’re the one that’s staring at my ass! Even I don’t do this to you.”

You frown, digging your heels in the ground to stop in your spot. “You’re annoying.”

“I’m right though.”

He isn’t. You know he likes watching your body too, likes revering every inch of it with his lips and hands and gaze. He makes you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world, and you reckon he deserves you making him feel like this too.

“You aren’t,” you finally say. “But, why can’t I look at you? You’re hot.”

“I’m ‘hot’,” he repeats. “Wow.”

“It’s a compliment!”

He bursts out laughing, before pulling you into a hug. “I know, I’m being a little shit. Thank you.” He adds your name sweetly, and then presses a peck to the top of your head. “By the way,” he says against your hair, “Do you want to come to my photography exposition next week?”

Your heart melts in your chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist to hold him flush against you, even though he’s still sweaty from the sex. “Of course, Kook. I’d love to come.”

You look up to meet his gaze. He’s smiling softly, with that lovesick look to his eyes that makes you feel like you’re swimming in ecstasy.

You want him to look at you like this until the day you die. Want to look at him like this too. Because, truly, you become the most important girl in the world when he looks at you like this. The most important girl in that world of you two, that space that belongs just to you.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers, and then he kisses you softly. “Let’s shower now.”

You chuckle, before following him into the bathroom.

Friday, December 14th

Jungkook is anxious. He’s been wanting to show you his photography for a while, but he’s always refrained from doing it. Partly because he still remembers you nagging him in Chicago about taking so many pictures of you, but mostly because this exhibit feels personal to him. It’s a collection of moments he experienced throughout the year, and when he looks at it, he feels like it’s his soul bared. And even though he’s bared his soul to you countless times before, it’s different like this. He doesn’t even know if you’re going to like it.

He sighs, shakily, before wiping his clammy hands on the fabric of his dress pants. They’re pale, and his light blue dress shirt is tucked neatly into it. It’s a little too tight on him, and he’s been getting looks from some people a couple of times, but most people avoid his exposition.

Mostly because Laura made it clear that he was an asshole, and all of her photography friends started hating on him too. Before, he would have probably been angry about it, upset with Laura, but now he feels like it doesn’t matter. He knows his friends are all going to come anyway, and though it’s been stressing him out, he knows that it’ll be fine.

The first friend that gets here is Namjoon. Namjoon, the biggest art nerd. Somehow, it soothes Jungkook that he’s the one here first. Because if the exposition is trash, he knows his friend will give an honest review.

Namjoon claps his hand and pulls him into a bro hug, his eyes going over the pictures. He smiles appreciatively, glancing at Jungkook.

“You should really become an art photographer. I told you you’re good at it.”

The praise makes Jungkook’s eyes well up with surprising tears. “Joon…”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon insists. He looks at the exposition again. “It’s a cycle. Twelve pictures, with light changing ever so slightly in all of them. And the centerpiece? You’re a goner.”

Jungkook blushes deep red, and he digs his hands in his pants. “Uh… It just felt fitting.”

Namjoon smiles, nodding slowly. “Of course. I’m happy for you, man.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook chokes out. “I’m… so fucking anxious for her to see it.”

Namjoon playfully pushes him. “Every time I’ve seen her she just looked at you with hearts in her eyes. She’s gone for you just as much as you are for her.”

“Is she?” Jungkook asks, toying with his piercing, though he already knows. He’s seen the switch in you – the way you grew softer around him, the way you take every opportunity to be with him and cherish it like it’s the last. You make him feel like he was born one day to find you, like you were the purpose of his life. It’s an intense feeling, a scary one, but he reckons when he was younger he always believed that he’d know when he was going to meet the right one.

Well… He didn’t know it right away with you, right? It took him what… seven years? Eight? He doesn’t even remember. But when the switch happened in him, he knew right away. He knew right away that you were the one, that he’d have to spend the rest of his life making sure that you know that. Making sure to prove it to you. He thinks he’s been doing it now, though he has to admit he was too scared at first. Hurt you instead of loving you. But he believes he’s been doing better now. Believes he’s redeeming himself a little more every day.

He stops his train of thoughts, because he’s getting emotional and you’re not even here yet. Namjoon tells him he’s going to look at the rest of the exhibition, and that he’ll come back when the rest of the friend group arrives. Jungkook watches him go, before grabbing his phone out of his back pocket to occupy himself.

[5:47 pm] You: i’ll be a little late. i’m stuck in traffic, but i’m close! [5:47 pm] You: i’m sure u’re doing great! my dad told me to wish u good luck

What you don’t know is your dad told him himself. They’ve been talking, from time to time. Mostly because your father believes he should come to California for the Holidays along with you. Jungkook hasn’t decided yet, because he doesn’t want to impose and he doesn’t want to make you feel forced to welcome him. Your father says he’s sure you’ll accept, but he hasn’t had that conversation with you yet.

He feels like if tonight goes well, then it might be the moment to ask.

[5:48 pm] jkonthebeat: joonie is already here! i think jo and tae should get here soon [5:49 pm] You: jo told me they’ll get there with jimin and scottie, and scottie just texted me that he saw laura and feels like murdering someone

Jungkook almost laughs out loud, but he stops himself just in time to see that Scottie, Jimin, Taehyung and Jo indeed just got here. They all wave when they see him, bright smiles on display, laughing about something they probably were joking about before they saw him. Jungkook waves them over, and the anxiety spikes once more as they take a look at his photography.

When they all compliment him, Taehyung and Jimin clapping him on the back and telling him that they’re proud of him, his anxiety calms down once more. He’s relieved, and at this point he’s pretty positive you’ll like it too. Because if his closest friends, who take every opportunity to tease him, tell him that he did a good job, then he reckons he did.

They all stay with him, and Namjoon comes back a moment later, as they all talk and joke around. Jungkook can’t help but feel gazes on him: Laura and her friends. He’s pretty sure Laura would murder him if she got the chance, and he only knows it’ll grow tenfold when you get here.

The presence of his friends grounds him, and when the examiner comes to look at his exposition, Jungkook’s speech is strong and steady, as he explains everything that he wanted to represent in the pictures. He explains how the light follows the hour of the day, and his emotions at the time. Each picture represents a month, last year. It starts in January, when he wasn’t doing great at all. The pictures are darker in the beginning months, then gradually get lighter in May and June. They’re hopeful, those pictures. One of them is a picture of the frogs under the bridge next to the dance studio, and he remembers when he walked with you, after dance practice all those months ago. He remembers the hope he felt, how his steps were light for the first time in months.

Then it all grows dark again in July. The picture isn’t unhappy. It’s the night sky at the cottage that he photographed with a long exposure tape. It isn’t sad, no, because it does remind him of you. But he chose it because July was sad, too, as were the following months. Dark pictures for August and September follow. A stormy night when he couldn’t sleep, and he knew Laura was asleep in his bed when he took the picture, yet he couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to be with her.

He was thinking of you, hating himself for choosing her.

October becomes lighter again, slowly. A picture in the shade in Chicago. You’re in it, as are Taehyung and Jo, with your backs turned to the camera. He’s titled it ‘Where I learned to live again’. Because truly, that’s how it felt to him. That trip to Chicago… it made him feel reborn.

November is a picture he took from the window of your apartment, of a bright, golden setting sun. That one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. Because he found hope while being with you, more than you can imagine.

The last one is a picture of a bright, snowy day you spent with him a week ago. The storm hit unexpectedly, and you stayed with him, at the house with the other boys. It’s a picture of the backyard, with you all laughing around as you’re making snow angels. The picture is focused on you, with your big grin and rosy cheeks from the cold.

This one is called ‘Where I learned to love again’, but to be fair, he started to love again way before that. And it’s represented in the picture in the middle of the twelve, the one he chose to put there months ago. Back then, he didn’t know if he wanted to present his project at the exhibition, but with how things have evolved with you, he decided to do it.

It’s a picture of you, laughing, that he snapped in July at the cottage. He’s written a text next to it, a dedication to you, and that most of all is the reason why he’s anxious for you to see it.

In the forgotten space between then and now, her smile lingers. Healing, shining, like the sun after a long winter. Months that led to her, and now warmth clings to the world. The sun rays refuse to go away, and they shine ever so brightly after the darkness. Her light gives life, her smile gives hope, and her heart gives love.

It’s cheesy. Now that he thinks of it, he almost regrets writing that. But he knows that art blossoms where there’s love, and you’ve been his muse all year. Because most pictures, starting in April, are related to you. A story of how you got to where you are now.

His exhibit is called The Forgotten Spaces. It’s about how while he experienced those moments at first, he didn’t know. Didn’t realize what they meant. How he forgot that they meant something. Now, looking back, he knows that all of these moments meant everything. Meant everything to you and him, as they are your forgotten spaces, and he doesn’t care what anyone thinks about it.

Doesn’t care that Laura has been throwing him side eyes, and how he might have gone too poetic on the project. He’s proud of what he did, and he just can’t wait for you to see.

When the examiner walks away, with a “Good job” and a bright smile, Jungkook once again relaxes. His friends are still nearby, and their chatter dims out the rest of the room, until he’s only focused on them. They’re talking about getting drinks after, to celebrate, and Jungkook can’t help but start feeling excited.

It only grows tenfold when he notices you walking in. You look so pretty standing there, scanning the room as you search for him. You’re wearing dark pants, with a pale blouse you’ve tucked into them. When your gaze meets him, you light up like you’re the brightest star in the night sky, and you wave at him as you make your way closer.

You do notice Laura too. To Jungkook’s surprise, you offer her a smile, and then walk past as if you don’t care about her. And he reckons maybe you don’t anymore, after all that’s happened.

“Hey,” he greets you when you stop next to him.

Your gaze hasn’t moved to the pictures on the wall behind him yet. You’re entirely focused on him, and he senses his friends taking a few steps away to allow you two some privacy. You grab his hand, a thing you do in public because you’ve told him you don’t like public displays of affection, but that holding hands doesn’t count. He still can’t resist but pull you a little closer, and he grabs your other hand.

And then his heart starts beating wildly in his chest, because you look over his shoulder, tiptoeing to see the wall. And he sees thousands of emotions moving on your features, until you just turn fully red.

“Oh my God, Kook,” you let out. “Is your exposition about me?”

His heart sinks in his chest. He feels like he did something wrong, like he shouldn’t have taken pictures of you, but then you add, “You’re so fucking cheesy, what the hell.”

It’s like a weight is lifted from his shoulders, and he smirks down at you. “I mean, how could I resist? You’re my muse.”

“Stop!” you say, punching him in the chest. You then walk around him, taking a proper look at the pictures. “Is that why you didn’t want me to see, before today?”

Because you’ve asked. Countless times, but he always told you he’d rather not spoil the surprise. And when you turn and offer him a smile so sweet it tastes like honey, Jungkook knows he did the right thing.

“Yeah,” he says, and he turns around to motion at the pictures. “All of them are titled? And the one in the middle…”

“Wait,” you let out. “Wait, did you write a poem about me too? Jungkook, what the fuck?”

If he couldn’t see your teary eyes, he’d think you’re angry. But you clearly aren’t – at best, you’re probably just overwhelmed.

“I mean, it’s not a poem?” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… It kind of explains the whole thing, and why I chose those pictures.”

At that you take a step forward, to look at the pictures closely. He lets you do it, lets you read the titles, following the chronological order of the months of this year. He can see your blush deepening when you get to the pictures where you can be seen clearly, and then you’re reading the text in the middle closely. He thinks you reread it a couple of times, because it takes you a while before you glance at him again.

You’re still teary-eyed when you do, and you extend a hand towards him. He takes it gently, raising it to his mouth so he can press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Don’t cry,” he says softly. “I didn’t want to make you cry.”

You choke out a laugh. “This is just… Everyone can see this.” Another rush of anxiety moves through him before you add, “I just can’t believe I get to be with you. Like…”

You turn towards the pictures, and point towards the one from April, which is just a picture of a street light in the fog. “I hated you then. I hated you so bad, wished you had never come back into my life. And then… and then we fell in love, we hurt each other bad, and fell in love some more. Like…” You pause, because tears are moving on your cheeks. He reaches to dry them, and then you continue. “I can’t believe we’ve been through all of this, and finally figured it out.” You look away from him to say the next words. “I can’t believe I was afraid at first. There’s nothing scary about being with you.”

Your words echo in his mind for so long after you’re done talking that he just remains frozen next to you. They calm his heart, warm his soul, and make tears form in his eyes too, tears that he blinks away before scraping his throat in an attempt to get rid of the lump that was forming there. He murmurs your name then, for just you to hear.

“I love you,” he breathes out.

You look startled to hear the words. It’s the first time he’s told you ‘I love you’. You usually tiptoe around the words, using other ways to say it, like “I’m in love” or “text me when you’re home”, but now that they’re out in the open, they feel like the most natural thing he’s ever said in his life.

“Fuck, Kook,” you say, and you chuckle as a smile move on your lips, making your eyes shine from within. “I love you too. Thank you for being patient with me.”

He blinks his tears away. “Thank you for wanting to be with me, after everything. I’m still not sure I deserve it, but I really love you.”

“I know,” you say, nodding your head slowly. “But you deserve it! Like…” you trail off, motioning at the pictures. “Who would do this?”

“Is it… too much?” he asks, voicing his fear.

You laugh. “I mean… it’s a lot? But it’s so artistic and pretty, and I can’t believe I inspired you to do this.”

He echoes your laugh, shrugging his shoulders. “It was easy. I actually had almost everything done in October? I was just waiting to get the perfect pictures for November and December.”

“I can’t believe you used pictures of me,” you say, shaking your head. “Now everyone’s going to see my face.”

He pulls you closer, instinctively. “And they’re all lucky for it. But if you want me to take the pictures down already, I understand.”

“No.” You tilt your head to the side. “You’ve worked on this for so long, I won’t force you to take it down. It’s just… strange to see my face. But you’ve edited the pictures, right? No way I look this good.”

He rolls his eyes, gently nudging you with his elbow. “You do. And my camera is good quality. But honestly you barely needed any editing.”

You clearly don’t believe him, and you blabber on about it for a while. He just lets you speak, smiling fondly at you whenever you gaze at him. You eventually apologize for talking so much, and he laughs as he pulls you into his chest for a quick hug.

“Don’t apologize,” he reassures you. “I like listening to you. And…” He glances at the pictures. “I’m glad you like the project. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you it was mostly about you before? Maybe you wouldn’t have been a blushing mess then.”

“Jungkook!” you yelp out, and you pinch at his side in retaliation. He cringes, and then bursts out laughing as you aim for his sides again. He blocks you, grabbing your wrists and holding you in place. “I’m blushing because there’s pictures of me and your ex is here! And like… all those strangers too. Doesn’t mean I don’t like the project.��

“I know,” he says, chuckling. “I’m teasing you.”

He likes doing that. Teasing you. It shows him how, all those times he did it when you were younger, he probably meant something entirely different and was just too immature to realize it. To realize that you were the one for him. Now that he knows, teasing you fills him with giddy happiness, like a kid on Christmas morning. Mostly because you usually tease back, and you don’t disappoint tonight.

No, you end up bickering, until Jo tells you that you’re acting like an old couple. You both glare at her, but it stops the bickering, long enough for Jungkook to actually present his project to a couple of other people that have moved closer.

When the evening is over, and the last of the visitors are leaving including his friends, you stick around to help him take down the pictures. You hand them to him, though you hold onto the July night sky for far longer than he thought you would.

He glances around, satisfied to see that Laura’s left, before stepping closer to you.

“You can keep it if you want,” he tells you, and he steals a kiss on your temple.

You don’t even whine like you usually do in public. You just sigh, looking up at him. “I miss this weekend,” you admit. “It was so fun.”

“Maybe we can go next summer again?” he suggests. “I’m pretty sure everyone would be willing.”

It makes you smile, and you say, “I’d love to!” Jungkook is about to speak, but you quickly add, “And JK?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“I…” you trail off, looking around, and your cheeks turn crimson once more. “I wanted to ask you something?”

You say it like a question, and it makes him chuckle. “What?”

“I know you’re… not going to go to Korea for the Holidays and…” You nibble on your bottom lip, meet his gaze once before letting yours drop to the floor. “Would you like to come with me? To California? I… my dad told me to invite you, and I’d like to have you there.”

His eyes well up with tears once again, and this time he doesn’t blink them away. “Of course! Of course, I’ll come.”

You step closer to him, wrap your arms around his middle and rest your head on his chest. “I know the plane tickets are expensive, but dad said he’d get one for you? So you don’t have to worry about it.”

“I can buy the ticket.”

“It’s a gift!” you insist. “Besides… he’s already bought it.”

Jungkook is surprised, because your father didn’t mention it last time he talked to him. But at the same time, he does understand why he wouldn’t have said it – your father probably wanted you to ask him yourself.

It’s understandable, and you look so cute fumbling with your words like that that Jungkook can’t help but press soft kisses on the top of your head. “Did he now?” He chuckles, and presses a kiss to your forehead when you gaze up at him. “Well, I guess I’m going to have to accept the gift, uh?”

You smile. “Yep, you’re going to have to,” you agree. And when you pull away, you let out an excited yelp that has him burst out laughing. “We’re going on a trip together!”

“We are,” he echoes, nodding his head. “I hope you don’t mind me sleeping on the plane ride. Planes make me sleep.”

You frown, and then chuckle. “You’re so weird.”

“That’s why you love me, uh?”

You look up at the sky as if annoyed, and then start giggling when he tickles your side playfully. “Stop!”

“Just because you’re cute,” he says, and he pecks your nose before pulling away.

He’s gone. He’s gone for you. He knows, his friends know, and sometimes he thinks the whole universe knows. And maybe that’s what happens when you’re destined to be with someone – when you finally reach them, when your paths finally cross and mesh to form one, it feels like the universe finds its meaning. And it does, for you. At least that’s how Jungkook feels, and that’s what inspired his photography project.

That night, when you lie in your bed, Jungkook makes sure to hold you close to him as he big spoons you. And when you mutter, half asleep, that you told your father your boyfriend will indeed be coming for the Holidays, Jungkook fights tears.

“Your boyfriend, uh?”

You nod against him. “You are, aren’t you? I think it’s time we make it official.”

And though it’s not like people didn’t already know, Jungkook still says, “So you’re my girlfriend, uh?”

You chuckle. “You did tell that girl at the Halloween party that I was your girlfriend, didn’t you?”

He had. He was embarrassed for a few seconds, until lust had taken over him, thanks to the alcohol and weed in his system.

“True,” he hums. “Well, then I’ll tell my mom that we’re dating? She’s been nagging me about you.”

“You… you talked to your mom about me?”

He presses a kiss on the back of your head. “Of course. I told her about you for the first time in June.” He pauses, then chuckles. “Well technically, she already knew who you were. I think I’ve been talking about you to her for years.”

“Kook,” you whine. “She probably hates me.”

He pulls you closer. “Nah, trust me. She loves you. She’s already talking about having us over during the summer break.”

He’d love to do that with you. To visit his home country, along with the person that feels like home to him. He thinks you’d like it there, even though you don’t know the language.

“Oof, you better teach me some Korean before then,” you say, and you both laugh. “All you’ve taught me so far is how to say hello and some curse words.”

“Got to start somewhere.”

You laugh again, and then you sigh, as you hold his arm a little tighter. “Indeed. Too bad I have nothing to teach you before we go to California.”

He chuckles deeply, and you talk the night away like that, even as you both grow tired. When you start yawning more than talking, Jungkook presses another kiss to the back of your head.

“We should go to sleep,” he says, and he fights a yawn. “We have to study tomorrow.”

You whine a little, in that cute way of yours. “Gosh, fuck studying. But yeah, we should go to sleep.”

“I… I love you,” Jungkook says tentatively.

He can hear the smile on your lips when you reply, “I love you too. Good night, Kook.”

“Good night.”

Monday, December 24th

The house is loud, even though there’s only five of you. You think it’s mostly because Jungkook is playing with Louis, your father’s son. Your brother, sort of. They’re screaming in the living room, as Jungkook imitates the sounds Louis makes.

It’s adorable, it really is, and you reckon you like seeing how Jungkook acts with a kid. Even though you don’t want any, it just… rubs you the right way, you guess. Makes you want to hold him close to you, but then again you always want to hold Jungkook close.

Your father is currently working on something in his office. Even though it’s Christmas Eve, the grind doesn’t stop for him, and you know it won’t stop for you either once you graduate. Especially as you’re considering more and more to follow in his footsteps, as he suggested getting you in touch with the firm he was working at when he lived back on the East Coast with you and your mother.

That leaves you with Isabel, his new wife. She has been sweet to you – an angel, truly. Referring to you as her step-daughter, saying she always wanted a daughter and is really happy that she has you. You don’t know what your father told her about your relationship with your own mother, but you reckon it feels great to receive some motherly love, no matter how unexpected it is.

And she’s been giving you a lot. You got here three days ago and at first, it was a little overwhelming. But you’re already getting used to it, and you think it’s for the best. Because you do need it, especially in the middle of the Holiday season.

After all, it’s the first time you spend it without your mother. Even though you’ve never really received love from her, it still feels strange to be away, but you’re more accepting of it every day.

You haven’t really talked to her since she’s kicked you out. You don’t want to, and Mary agrees that it might be best for you to cut ties for now. She’s not opposed to you reconnecting in the future, as long as you keep a safe distance from your mother. For now, you don’t see that ever happening, and you feel comfortable with that. You don’t need your mother – she’s never really been a mother to you anyway.

“I don’t know who’s louder, your boyfriend or Louis,” Isabel complains and you chuckle as you glance at her.

You’re in the kitchen, and she’s putting the turkey in the oven for later tonight. You’ve been helping out a little, but she affirmed that she got it covered, so now you’re mostly just sitting on a bar stool, watching her work.

“Pretty sure it’s Jungkook,” you say, and you laugh as he indeed shrieks. “I think he prefers Louis over me.”

Isabel laughs, a crystalline laugh that sounds like she’s rehearsed it a thousand times. It’s pretty, and you’re a little jealous, knowing most of the times when you laugh you snort like a pig.

“Stop it, he’s head over heels for you,” she says, tutting. She rinses a cutting board, before putting it away in the dishwasher. “It’s actually kind of adorable.”

You feel the blush creeping up your neck, until it reaches your cheeks and turns them deep crimson. “Is it?”

Isabel nods widely. “It is! I wish your father still looked at me like that.”

“He does,” you reassure her. “He really loves you.”

Isabel smiles shyly, and she busies herself with washing some dish that she doesn’t usually put in the dishwasher. For a time, you both just listen to Jungkook and Louis, and then she speaks again. “I hope… I hope it doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”

You hear the question mark at the end of her sentence, and it makes you look down at a random spot on the kitchen island in front of you. “Uh… I think it used to. But… being here right now helps?”

“I’m glad,” she says softly, and when you gaze up you find her smiling fondly. “I didn’t want to push the relationship before, but I think you deserve having your father in your life more. We’re happy to have you over whenever you want to.”

For some reason, you used to think she’d rather not have you over. It makes you blink away sudden tears, and you chuckle awkwardly. “Thank you. I wish I could host you three at home too, but my apartment isn’t big enough.”

“Yet,” she teases with a wink. “If you follow in your father’s footsteps you’ll be able to get a nice house for yourself and Jungkook.”

The perspective of a future like that, alongside Jungkook, makes butterflies arise in your stomach. “That’d be great. I can only wish I’m half as good as him.”

“And you know, if you really want to do international law instead of something in a firm like your father, you can too! He’s got great contacts at some embassies in Europe.”

You know that he does. But the need to get away, to live abroad, isn’t as strong as it once used to be for you. Because now you know that that was why you liked international law so much. Though you still find it interesting, you don’t wish to move away anymore. Not when you have Jungkook here at home.

“Honestly,” you let out slowly. “I think I want to stay here. In the US, I mean? I guess it depends on where Jungkook wants to go. He’s really close to his friends, and I wouldn’t want to force him to move away.”

Because the option of breaking up isn’t even there, and you don’t even want to consider trying long distance. No, you think Jungkook and you are made of stuff that lasts, of stuff that you can build a whole life on. He feels the same way – last night, he told you that one day he’d like to marry you. He was a little tipsy, that’s true, but it’s proof enough that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

“What about your friends?” Isabel asks.

You think of Jiho. Of Jisung and Heather and the rest of the dance crew. Of Jo, Bridget, and even Kiko. Of Jungkook’s friends too, because they’ve become your friends as well. You reckon you wouldn’t want to move away from them either. They’ve grown to be your family, even though you’re realizing you’ve always had a family here, in California.

“I love them too much to leave,” you admit, and it feels strangely relieving to say it. As if you’re allowing yourself to truly care about them, to truly accept that they occupy an important part in your life. “I think I’ve got a good future ahead of me, if I stay home. Yes, it’s hard because it’s close to my mother, but it’ll always be home.”

“And that’s totally okay!” Isabel says, offering you a bright smile. “You’re allowed to want to stay.” She pauses for a few seconds, before adding teasingly, “Even if your father really wants you to move here.”

You laugh along with her, and when silence rises around you again, you glance towards the living room. From the kitchen, you can only see a small part of it, and you can’t see Jungkook or Louis. But now that the turkey is in the oven, Isabel and you move over there, and you end up playing Just Dance with Louis, even though he’s a little too young to actually dance. Isabel says he loves the game, and Jungkook is happy to oblige.

You watch him as he dances. His movements have gotten more fluid over the last few months, as if all the physical therapy that he did has finally caught up to him. It’s to the point that you’ve discussed with him and the crew about taking him back in as a dancer, but he hasn’t decided yet. Everyone said they’d be happy to have him dance, but Jungkook seems like he’s been appreciating his spot as the choreographer more through the months.

Maybe because you’ve won an award because of his choreographies.

Jungkook catches you looking, and he winks at you over his shoulder. You smile as your cheeks tint pink, and then he’s back to focusing on the dance, even though he’s purposefully missing every beat to let Louis win.

Still, Louis doesn’t, but the toddler doesn’t care, only wanting to dance with you next. So you do, and Jungkook and Isabel talk together on the couch while you entertain Louis. Your father eventually joins the group, and you spend the rest of the afternoon playing around, until it’s time for Louis to take a nap.

You and Jungkook actually decide to take a nap too, mostly because Louis was throwing a fit at the fact that his sister didn’t have to sleep. He only agreed once you said you will sleep too, and you reckon you could use a nap in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms.

And you do fall asleep quickly, as he’s holding you tight against him. It’s way too warm and you wake up drenched in sweat, but you don’t care. You take a shower while he remains in bed, bringing the clothes you’ve chosen for Christmas Eve along with you so you can get dressed right away.

It’s an ugly Christmas sweater, and Jungkook got one too, because your father insisted that you needed to dress with one to be welcomed at the table for dinner. To compensate for the silly look, you decide to put on makeup and curl your hair, and when you’re finally done, you exchange spots in the bathroom with Jungkook.

He quickly kisses you on the way in, telling you that you look amazing, and then you leave him to his own shower. You go back to your room to put away the clothes you were wearing earlier, and you’re about to head downstairs when your phone starts vibrating in your hand.

You freeze as your mother’s name appears on the screen, and as your heart drops down to your stomach.

It’s Christmas Eve, you think. She probably only wants to wish you a Merry Christmas, because surprisingly enough, she’s done that every year. Probably because Christmas is her favourite holiday. And it’s probably only because it is indeed Christmas Eve that you decide to accept the call.

“Hello,” you say as you put the phone against your ear.

She says your name, and she sounds relieved, as if she didn’t expect you to pick up at all. “How are you doing?”

“I’m great,” you tell her, but you don’t ask her the question back.

You don’t think she deserves you asking and, frankly, you don’t care about the answer enough.

“I’ve heard… that you’re not going to be at your aunt’s tonight?”

You sigh. “No. I’m visiting my father in California.”

“Oh,” she lets out. “Well then, Merry Christmas.” She pauses for a few seconds, as if she thought you were going to wish it back. “I was hoping to see you.”

“Why?” you ask, and you hope she doesn’t hear the tremble in your voice because, in truth, what she just said is breaking your heart.

“To… make amends?” she says. “I regret what happened earlier this year. It was mostly because I wanted to sell the house.”

You didn’t know she wanted that. It still doesn’t justify her actions – she could have just told you that instead.

“Ah,” you let out. There are a few seconds of silence, and then you add, “Have you?”

“Not yet,” she admits. “I haven’t been able to.”

You wait for her to say more, but she remains silent. You eventually cave in, asking, “Why?”

“Because I’ve been living there for a long time,” she explains. “It’s a place that’s dear to me, even though it holds a lot of bad memories.”

You scoff. “You know, you’ve got a lot of balls to tell that to me.”

“I don’t want to fight,” she quickly says. “I… I’ve been going to therapy. I’m still early in the process, but I don’t want to fight with you anymore.”

Your heart breaks a little more, and you move to sit on the bed.

“I want to make efforts,” she continues. “I have been a horrible mother to you, and I know it’s too late to change the past, but I hope I can make the future better.”

“Listen mom,” you say, stopping her before she actually makes you cry. “I appreciate that you decided to get therapy. It was way past time. But… right now, I’m not in a place mentally where I want to allow you to be in my life. I really hope therapy helps you to become a better person, but it doesn’t mean I have to let you be in my life.”

She sniffles on her side of the line, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever heard her cry. It’s hard, almost makes you take everything that you said back, but you’ve worked too hard with Mary to just give up right now.

“I understand,” she eventually says. “If there ever comes a day where you think we can talk, I’m just a phone call away. We could grab coffee. I have a lot I want to tell you, and I don’t think it justifies how I acted, but maybe you’ll understand.”

The thing is, you don’t care. You want to keep your peace of mind, but you reckon it’s Christmas Eve. You don’t have to tell her this today and ruin her favourite holiday.

You really are the most mature out of the two of you, aren’t you?

“Okay,” you choose to say. “I’ll call you whenever I’m ready.”

“Thank you,” she whispers in the phone, voice heavy with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

Her apology hurts more than anything else could have. “Don’t apologize,” you tell her. “Instead, work on yourself, and prove to me that you mean it. If that can be the Christmas gift I ask for this year.”

“Yes,” she immediately says. “Of course.”

A long silence follows that, and you hear the shower turning off in the bathroom. You don’t want Jungkook to come back while you’re still talking to your mother, so you say, “Listen, I have to go now. Merry Christmas to you too.”

She wishes you goodbye, and she tells you to say hi to your dad for her. You know you won’t do it, because your mother will always be a sensitive subject when it comes to your father. But you still let her think that you will, because you don’t need to be a bitch right now.

You could be, you’re aware of it, but you think it’d upset you more than anything else. You don’t need the negativity right now.

You’re still sitting on the bed when Jungkook comes in, and it takes him one second to see your face and ask, “What’s wrong?”

You sigh, and you meet his gaze. “My mother called me.”

He looks startled, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. “What did she want?”

You tell him everything about the conversation, and once you’re done, you ask for his opinion. He sits on the bed next to you, grabbing your hand and toying with your fingers.

“I think you’re very strong, and I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself,” he carefully says. “And it’s actually a good thing that she’s in therapy, but honestly, I don’t think you need to let her back in. You don’t have to, and you should never feel forced to.”

Your eyes fill with tears, and you rest your head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Kook.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, and even though he’s done it countless times before, it ignites a warm fire in your chest. A comfortable fire, one that can chase away any cold and darkness your mother brings to you.

“I got you,” he whispers in your hair. “Always. Whatever you need, tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

“You’re cheesy,” you tease him.

“You love it.”

You do. He knows that well enough.

You sigh, and then you sit straight once more. “Should we head downstairs? We could set up the table for Isabel.”

Jungkook nods, and he quickly pecks your temple before standing up. “How do you like the sweater?”

“You’re adorable in it,” you compliment him, standing up too. “I love it.” You wrap your arms around his waist, and he quickly hugs you back.

“Not as adorable as you, but thank you,” he says, and he giggles when you pinch his sides.

“Just take the compliment.”

He’s pouting when you look up at him. “Sorry, I can’t help myself. You really are adorable.”

You blush a little, and when he leans down to kiss you, you hold him tighter. Let him lead the kiss, though he keeps it soft and slow. It makes you feel reborn, complete, and when he pulls away, you sigh dreamily.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“Love you too,” he whispers back, and he pecks your forehead once before he leads you downstairs.

The evening ends up being a blast. You forget all about your mother as you’re laughing, chatting and eating along with everyone, with Christmas music playing in the background. When the subject of Jungkook’s exposition comes to the surface, you feel yourself turning beet red as Jungkook shows the pictures he used.

You still can’t believe he used you as a subject. Loved you enough to make you his muse, and to risk failing a project that was supposed to be a little more serious. Luckily enough, he passed with flying colours, and he even got a museum asking him to take pictures of their art for them, so they can put them on a web platform in an attempt to make their museum virtual.

Opening gifts has you all laughing till you are teary-eyed, with Louis being the receiver of most of them. You and Jungkook got him a small truck and a plush toy, and he’s been trying to fit the plushie in the truck, but so far he’s been unsuccessful.

To your surprise, Jungkook hands you a gift, a sheepish look on his features. You open it with a cocked eyebrow, because you don’t know how a trip to a winery fits in a box like this one. When you find an octopus plushie, one of those you can revert to make it happy or mad, you offer him a small pout, telling him you love it.

Luckily enough, you got him a gift too, with the help of his mother. She wanted to get him plane tickets for Korea, and asked you to give them to him. It was an awkward conversation, and you still have no idea how she got your phone number, but even with the language barrier you still managed to talk to her. She was sweet, kept saying how she can’t wait to meet you, and now you know you’re going during Spring Break.

Jungkook tears up when he sees the tickets, and he kisses you deeply in front of everyone else. Louis makes you laugh, letting out a disgusted sound and throwing his own plushie at you. It makes you pull away from Jungkook, though you keep hold of his hand for the rest of the evening. At a certain point, Isabel and you go upstairs with Louis since it’s way past his bedtime. The only way to get him to actually sleep is to tell him that he needs to be asleep for Santa Claus to come, and he begrudgingly says that he is going to try and listen for the reindeers on the roof. It’s adorable, and you refrain from telling him that the house doesn’t have an actual chimney for Santa to climb down in, refusing to be the one to kill the childish magic that Christmas still holds for him.

After that, you move to the other side of the house, to a private room with a bar, a pool table and a board game table. You settle at the board game table with Isabel, Jungkook and your father, and it’s there that your father gives you your gift, saying that he preferred not giving you that in front of Louis.

You understand why. It’s a bottle of whiskey, the whiskey you’ve seen him drink countless times growing up. You always asked him for a taste, and he always refused, saying that when you’re old enough, you’d get your own bottle. You cry a little when he pours you a drink, and then wince at the strong taste of the alcohol. Everyone laughs, and you tell your father it’s the best gift you’ve ever received, because frankly, it is.

You go to bed late that night, even though you have a dinner planned with Isabel’s family tomorrow night. You didn’t want to go at first, but since you’ve been getting along with her so well, you accept the invitation and then wish her and your father good night, before going to the room you share with Jungkook.

Jungkook groans as he plops down on the bed, face hidden in the covers. “That whiskey hit hard,” he complains.

You laugh, and you sit next to him, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s strong, yeah. No wonder he never let me drink it as a child.”

“You would have died,” Jungkook agrees. He turns his head to the side, looking at you with a sweet lovesick smile on his lips. “This is fun.”

You’re confused, and your brows meet over your eyes. “What?”

He glances at the door, before looking back at you. “Everything. Your family, the vibes. Getting to spend time with you.” He pauses, then precises, “Getting to spend the holidays with you.”

You smile, scrunching up your nose shyly. “Right? I’m so happy.”

“And the plane tickets?” He looks away, hiding his face in the covers again. “How the fuck did you manage to do this?”

“Your mother called me. No idea how she got my number,” you tell him. “She asked me if I could give them to you, as a gift from us both. As if I thought of it. It was all her. But she said you’d be happier if you received them from me.”

You can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “Told you she loves you.”

“I can’t wait to meet her.”

He turns to lie on his back, one hand behind his head. He looks heavenly like this, and you climb on his lap.

“Oh,” he lets out.

“What?”

“I don’t know,” he says, chuckling. “Merry Christmas to me.”

“Is that so?” you tease, and you grind your hips against him.

He looks alarmed for half a second before his expression turns dark. “Oh, is that where this is going?” he asks, and his hands find your waist. “In your father’s home? You’ll have to be extremely silent.”

“Good thing we’ve got pillows, I can hide my face in one of those.”

It doesn’t take you long before you’re rid of clothes, and you’re back on Jungkook’s lap, kissing him languidly. He guides himself to your entrance, and when you sink on him, the lack of foreplay makes you wince in pain. But he soothes it right away by gently caressing your thighs, and when you kiss him again, it’s slow and sweet.

You make love that night. Like that first night at your apartment, emotions, passion and desire driving all of your moves. And for some reason, while you’re impaled on him, the lines of his poem, his dedication to you, come back to your mind.

You make love, hands holding his cheeks, rocking of your hips slow and steady. He reaches deep inside of you, filling you with pleasure and hope and life and love. Your forgotten space, where you’ll always meet. The forgotten space of your world ending, together. Of you and him, becoming just one for this last and first dance. Your boyfriend, your person, always and forever.

When you’re lying next to him after, you think about the months, about the hurdles. About the pain and that July night sky. About dancing, with him, about loving him. About getting to be his person, getting to spend your life with him. You think about everything, your soul filling with love – yours and his, entwined in the most beautiful tapestry. You think about his scars – the ones on his heart, on his body. The ones on your own heart. They’re beautiful, all of them. They make him, they make you, and they make the both of you together. You love him, deeply, more than you’ve ever thought you could love. You know that for the rest of your life, you’ll show him that love. Shower him with it, gift it to him without asking for anything back even though you know he’ll give it to you, no questions asked.

You know then, that you were put on this Earth for a reason. Like a fated connection – your souls meant to latch together, to mesh until they’re just one.

You can only hope that he knows it too. You hope that he knows his light gives you life, his smile gives you hope, and his heart gives you love. From this moment, until you dwindle away into the void of eternity.

You sit on the threshold of your memories, with him. Them that breathe for you. Your forgotten spaces.

Prev | Teaser for the sequel When the End Comes

☆☆☆☆☆

The way I am crying right now as I finish rereading? This story, I'm telling you... it makes me far too emotional. Thank you for accompanying me on this beautiful journey. For the last time, I'll ask you guys, what did you think? Did you like it? Was the healing enough after the angst?

Taglist (strike-through means dumblr isn't letting me tag you my bad):

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miraclewoozi · 11 months

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i do not give permission for anything posted on this blog to be reposted or translated either here on tumblr, or on any other platform.

minors are not welcome and DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT to read anything posted on this blog.

everything shared here is self indulgent fiction and in no way reflective of how any of these people think, feel or behave in real life.

ODE TO A CONVERSATION ( stuck in your throat ). everything with seungcheol has always been easy. easier than with anyone else, anyway. ( smut. exes to lovers. 6k words. )

ELECTRIC. your best friend is many things. smart, funny, empathetic, a complete and utter pain in your ass to name but a few. and on the evening of his twenty-eighth birthday, you discover something a little unexpected: jeonghan is very afraid of thunderstorms. ( smut. fluff + mild angst. friends to something? 6.3k words. )

BURNIN' UP. you really were just trying to enjoy a cool treat by the pool on a hot summer’s day. honest. ( smut. friends who fool around. mean!dom josh. 3.1k words. )

nothing here, yet !

JUST THE TWO OF US? ( prompt drabble. requested. fluff. friends to lovers. 1.1k words. )

BEST BEHAVIOUR. ( prompt drabble. requested. smut. sub!soonyoung. 1.1k words. )

nothing here, yet !

DON'T SWEAT IT. today — the first time in a small forever that he forgot to check the battery on his earphones (and subsequently had them die on him mid-workout) — jihoon is forced to notice you. ( fluff + smut. gym crush. strangers to lovers. 18k words. )

VERSACE ON THE FLOOR. or, the time you and your homebody boyfriend* decide to just… not go to your dinner plans. ( fluff. suggestive. est relationship. 2.4k words. )

LEE JIHOON, YOUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT I.T GUY. (prompt drabble. requested. coworkers to lovers. fluff. 2.3k words.)

nothing here, yet !

UNDER THE COLLAR. your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so… how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed? ( fluff. some angst. mildly suggestive. pining. friends to ???. 4.6k words. )

TIL DEATH DO US PART. ( prompt drabble. requested. angst. zombie apocalypse au. TWs : death/blood/body horror. ~900 words. )

[ 22:38 ] ( smut/pwp. 1.5k words. )

NOW YOU SEE ME. you can't say you're surprised that your boyfriend leaps at the thought of throwing some sensory deprivation into the mix of your sex life, but you're maybe a little shocked at just how into it he gets. ( smut. est relationship. blindfolding. 4.5k words. )

NETFLIX AND --? you try everything in your power to try and help your workaholic boyfriend unwind on his night off. you quickly find out that vernon doesn’t know how to just do nothing. ( domestic smut. est relationship. 2.3k words. )

[ 5:55 ] ( smut/pwp. married au. christmas morning. 2k words. )

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome. or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. ( fluff. mild angst. soulmate au. 5 times fic. f2l. 9.6k words. )

HIGH FIDELITY. | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time? ( fluff/angst/smut. up and coming rockstar au. miniseries. s2l. est. 38k words. )

DRIVE. or, the night you realise it’s actually very hard to stay mad at the guy who shows up at your house, throwing stones at your window on a Thursday night, to try and fix something that was your mistake in the first place. ( fwb to lovers. angst, smut + fluff. 7.8k words. )

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE. (prompt drabble. requested. exes to lovers. fluff/smut. 5k words.)

MTL : able to undo your bra with one hand.

#masterlist.#j talks.

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

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Five Fics Friday: April 19/24

Happy Friday everyone! Check out today's selection of fics to get you through the weekend! And be sure to give the boosted fic some extra love, as it JUST finished being written! :D Enjoy!!

SIGNAL BOOSTING

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer by meet_me_in_samarra (G, 55,886 w., 16 Ch. || Post THoB, Case Fic, Bromance / Friendship, Clever John, John is a Conductor of Light, BAMF John / Sherlock, Sassy John, Cheeky Sherlock) – Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

RECENT MFLs

Licence to Kiss by fellshish (T, 13,740 w., 4 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Bond Jokes, Angst and Humour, First Kiss, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining) – John loves James Bond. For his Birthday, Sherlock decides to organise a spy adventure. Sherlock begs Mycroft for a real case with some extra gadgets. And perhaps some actors pretending to be criminals. What could possibly go wrong?

Guess Who's Coming for Christmas Dinner by Raina_at (E, 18,623+ w., 2/4 Ch. || WiP || University AU || Fake / Pretend Relationship, Accidental Fake Dating, , Oblivious John / Sherlock, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Past Drug Use, Not-Nice Holmes Family) – Sherlock hates spending Christmas with his snobby parents. John has nowhere to go over the holidays. The heat in 221B is broken and their fridge is empty. Plus, Sherlock's parents will hate John. So of course Sherlock takes John along. It's not his fault that his parents assume John's his boyfriend. Of course John is perfect and all, but Sherlock doesn't do romance. So what harm can there be in pretending, if it makes his parents this mad?

Only Yesterday by Berty (T, 43,378+ w., 17/18 Ch. || Alternate Timelines / 'Yesterday' AU || Post-TRF, POV John, Grief, Mental Instability, Angst, Unrequited Love, Suspense, Scotland, Hurt John, Developing Relationship, Doctor John, John is a Mess) – Sherlock has been gone for two years and John Watson is doing okay. He goes to work. He sleeps (sometimes). He eats. He has colleagues, some of whom are even friends. He has purpose. If it's not a life as others might view it, it's a fair approximation. It's fine. He's fine. One night the lights go out and when they come back on everything is the same except for one important thing. For John it's theÂ mostÂ important thing. And suddenly John is not fine at all.

RECENTLY BOOKMARKED LOKIUS FICS

Magic Like You by Anonymous (NR [M], 9,714 w., 5 Ch. || LOKI SERIES || Post-S2, Light Angst, Soft, Friends to Lovers, Jotunn Loki, Pining Loki, Heavy Pining, Bed Sharing, Jealous Loki, POV Loki, Living Together, First Kiss/Time) – Loki and Mobius are trying to carve out a new life for themselves after all the chaos and hurt and destruction that was caused by the TVA. This story explores Loki's new life and his relationship to Mobius through magic. (With lots of stupid fun and soft moments along the way, because with these two, it's inevitable.)

#johnlock fic recs #lokius fic recs #my fic recs #five fics friday

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thewolvesof1998 · 6 months

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✨ Fic Writing Review 2023 ✨

Words and Fics

47, 302 words published to ao3

1 fandoms (9-1-1)

Most recent drop: even when the heat breaks I’m still yours (E, 6,169 words)

Longest Fic: Alright, Cowboy, Go Get 'Em (E, 16,925 words)

Top Fics by Kudos

I want you to be selfish with me (M, 4,652 words)

You bring me comfort (T, 4,181 words)

Tapping Morse Code into your heart (E, 2,796 words)

let me cradle your body (be a safe place to rest) (G, 1,972 words)

nicknames, supernova similes and the family we make (G, 800 words)

My fandom fic events in 2023

I didn't participate in any this year but maybe next year!

Upcoming Events and Projects for 2024

Fics I'm going to try and get out this year:

Dog Tags Fic/Mistaken Identity/Christmas: They don’t know (your name is already mine)

Secret fic

Buddie rodeo/Alright Cowboy, Go Get 'Em

Already started/mostly written:

Buddie MMA Rivals AU

Someone to be Gentle- 5 times Buck is gentle with Eddie and + One time Eddie repays his gentleness

For you mi amor, I choose death/Buddie Mafia AU

Librarian AU/Let me check you out

You make bad day infinitely better

Vampire/Werewolf Buddie/Halloween fic

Only the already bad can be influenced/Crop top and short shorts fic

Bank Robbery Fic/Mutually Assured Destruction

No-Nut-November fic

Pirates Buddie

We might end up real close 2x1 fic

Ideas/planned/just started fics:

Buck get dumps, gets drunk with Eddie and thinks they slept together fic

Awkward Sex Buddie fic

I can see you sequel

Love list Buddie

Don't go where I can't follow

Motorcycle fic

Street racing/Fast and Furious AU

Buddie- You belong with me fic

5+1 Platonic Daddy fic with @exhuastedpigeon

LA zoo TikTok Buck

Buck & Eddie wedding- Something wrong in the village

sword buddie pt. 2/ Under the Guise of Violence

Post Lawsuit/Call your mum inspired fic

Untitled post season 6 angst based on Stick Season

I've tagged all the latest post about all the fics that I've already made posts about (all previous snippets should be linked if you want to go back and read them)

Rules & Tags below the cut!

Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please don’t eat glass but don’t feel like you have to do this either.

Tagged by: @steadfastsaturnsrings @smilingbuckley @your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @hippolotamus @monsterrae1 @exhuastedpigeon

Tagging (no pressure): @wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @shitouttabuck @911onabc @malewifediaz @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @daffi-990 @fortheloveofbuddie @mangacat201 @hoodie-buck @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @giddyupbuck @sammysouffle @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @callmenewbie @thosetwofirefighters @princehattric @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

#I have about another 45k words in my whips - crazy to think I would be close to 100k if finished some fics instead of starting more 😂#9-1-1 #buddie #thewolvesof1998 writes #Fic Writing Review 2023 #911 #buddie fic #fic writing #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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menlove · 26 days

Note

any McLennon fic recs ?

CRACKS FINGERS

immediate rec is your lucky break by @forthlin bc millies writing makes me throw up and scream and cry and this is the fic that got us talking so!! also, young paul and dilf john and I eat it UP. also literally any of their fics are so so good. the latest one is our fic together so I won't rec it but... their writing in the john pov they wrote is soooo good so. I'll rec their half!

✨ = all time fave

just pulling from my bookmarks.......

grow old with me

Paul breaks his arm, and John panics

explicit. fix-it.

and when the broken bodies are washed to shore (who am I to ask for more)

“Jesus, took you long enough,” John says, adjusting the duffle over his shoulder. “Thought I might be out here til morning at this rate.”

For a second he wonders if he’s drunker than he thought, but no. As far as he can tell, it is still 1980, and he hasn’t seen or so much as spoken to John in ten years

mature. fix-it.

John My Beloved ✨

They've always loved each other, in their own way...

explicit. major character death. literally fucking killed me I sat there at 7am after staying up all night and teared up. I cry like. once a year.

i was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) ✨

John’s twelve when a bloke appears from a flaming pie and says, “From this day forward you are Beatles with an ‘a.’” The bloke is Paul.

Or: paul and john meet at all ages and eras and john is the time-traveler’s wife the way only john lennon can be

mature. fix-it. time traveler's wife au that lives forever in my mind rent free.

Stop all the clocks (by @javelinbk)

‘1967. After Brian dies, Paul decides not to go ahead with MMT, and takes John up to Scotland for a month instead.’

mature

Like Love, The Archers Are Blind

He wants to push Stuart out of the way, not even with a violent yank of his collar like he sometimes imagines. Just to melt into his place like butter sliding in a pan. Have it be an effortless breath of fresh air when John looks up at him and sees it all reflected back in his eyes. It’s you.

Hamburg, 1960

explicit

Boy, You've Been A Naughty Girl ✨

John makes Paul a bet. Paul takes him up on it. Crossdressing shenanigans and angst ensue, and ~feelings come out in the wash. 1961.

OR: boys in knickers, lots and lots (and lots) of sex, angst, homophobic slurs, schmoop. The Pineapple Club is fictitious. Originally posted on LJ in 2012

explicit. what can I say but whshwjjajjakak

I Still Miss Someone (series)

It's 1976 and Paul keeps showing up on John's doorstep with a guitar. Eventually John turns him away and Paul goes off to sulk in his hotel room the night before his flight from New York. Based on real events

explicit. not a fix-it.... real to me though

christmas lights (keep shinin' on)

"I'd have you," Paul said, eventually, and John felt the air being knocked out of him. "If it was different. If we were different."

mature.

two of us (burning matches)

It won't stop raining. Paul doesn't know what his feelings are doing. John's practising his right swing. Somewhere along the way, they fuse together

explicit. honestly literally everything by obstinatrix is 💖💖💖

one and one and one is three ✨ by @pauls1967moustache

Even with how badly he wants this, John wouldn't want it if he didn't think it would make Paul feel good. That's the point. It can be good, the three of them. It can work, if Paul lets it.

explicit. failed yoko/john/paul. also literally everything this author writes...... shout outs: a great threat (female paul/yoko w delicious mclennon in the bg) baby it's all relative verse (don't talk to me. the one time I've ever Ever in my life read foot kink and it???? it works??? they'd do this. I don't want them to. but this is real. entered my "psyche of john lennon" file. )

PROBABLY MORE....... but these are the ones that I keep thinking about and ruminating on.

#mclennon

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blurredcolour · 5 months

Text

I Wish You Love | Part Three

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

The letter you never intended to post has a slew of consequences and life will never be the same for anyone – you and Captain Nixon most of all.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Angst, Class Divide, Infidelity, Dishonesty, Minor Reader Injury, Blood, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5211

--------------------------

Lieutenant Nixon’s reply arrived in early October. The weeks since the family’s return to Lydiard had been bleak. The change from summer to autumn typically brought with it a renewed sense of energy, vigor, and anticipation for the festivities to come at the end of the year. All you seemed to feel was the life draining out of the world around you, underwritten by a growing sense of dread that culminated in the arrival of the morning post that day.

You lost your breakfast in the bathroom, hands shaking as they wiped your mouth clean, unable to face the contents of the envelope. Miss Isobel, for her part, was basking in her re-insertion into her social circle around Lydiard – gentlemen callers, vapid daughters of landed gentry. She barely noticed how unwell or vacant you looked, though catching your own reflection in her mirror as you fixed her hair reminded you to get a grip until you could take Dash for his walk.

Even once you’d reached the lake shore, the dog settling into a more relaxed pace after his initial excitement at the outset, you remained reluctant to open it. It felt as though there were a ticking time bomb lurking in your dress, awaiting one wrong move. The only problem was, you’d already made that wrong move.

“No going back now.” You muttered grimly and gingerly slid the letter from its envelope.

The pages crinkled in your hand as your gripped them fiercely, trying with all your might to swallow past the lump in your throat. You weren’t entirely sure which part was worse, reading him pledge his undying devotion to another woman or the fact that he would not give up on her unless she were to outright refuse him. Because despite the utter mess you had made of it, there was no possible way you could ever find it in yourself to do that.

And so, like the complete coward you had become, you took a page from Miss Isobel’s book and simply did not reply. As you should have done all those months ago in May. It was her intention to leave his correspondence unanswered, you were just, finally – after a long and twisted path – honouring her wishes. Never mind that it turned all food to sawdust in your mouth and robbed you of sleep, changing you into some sleep-walking wraith.

Letters continued to arrive from him, every three weeks or so, and were promptly stored away in the bottom of your suitcase with the rest. Sweet Izzy was as good as dead. There was only the real article left and she was just as much a handful as she’d ever been, carrying-on with some doctor at the prison camp now. The air turned cold, sparkling frost replaced the morning dew on the lawn. You barely noticed it as you allowed Dash to drag you along behind him on his daily sojourns.

Your father was begging you to come home on your day off before Christmas, maybe it would do you good to get out of Lydiard for a while – out of your grief-stricken stupor and back into the land of the living. Returning Dash to his favourite cushion in the sitting room one morning, you quickly grabbed a tray to collect one of the cut crystal glasses that had surely been left in there by a house guest the night before. You were crossing through the front hall towards the back stairs when you heard Mr. Atkinson open the front door.

“Good day, Captain Nixon.” His tone was as professional as ever, but you still managed to note the hint of surprise as you whirled around to see the very man whose letters you had been avoiding standing there in his dress uniform.

Two gold bars now adorned his garrison cap. So that was why Mr. Atkinson had called him Captain. Struggling to inhale a full breath, you realized much too late that you had lost sensation in your fingertips, the sound of the tray and its fragile cargo impacting the ground overtaking whatever Captain Nixon had said in reply to Mr. Atkinson’s greeting.

Cursing under your breath, you crouched quickly to snatch up the tray, frantically trying to pluck the shards of broken crystal from the floor with your bare fingers as your heart slammed against your rib cage like a bird trying to escape its confines. A particularly large, jagged edge caught the flesh of your palm, making you hiss as blood welled scarlet against your skin.

“Whoa, easy there.” Captain Nixon’s voice was a lot closer than you expected, making you jolt back, startled. “Let me see that.” He coaxed gently as he grasped your wrist in one hand, producing a monogrammed handkerchief from his pocket with the other. “You really shouldn’t be picking up broken glass with your bare hands, you know.” He chided with a soft grin, expertly wrapping your hand with the soft, expensive cotton.

You watched silently, wondering how many times he’d performed similar acts on his fellow soldiers in the heat of battle. You’d never realized quite how good his aftershave smelled, how the hints of vanilla and allspice wrapped around you before.

“There, all better.” His voice shattered through your retreat inward, and you looked to him quickly, barely meeting his warm eyes, the same shade as his favourite whiskey, before you had to look away lest your expression betray your inner turmoil.

“Thank you, Captain.” You murmured softly and shuffled backward again before pushing to your feet.

“Almost makes me sorry I got promoted.” He smirked and your brow wrinkled in bewilderment as he rose to his feet. “Miss being called ‘leftenant.’” He shrugged and you gulped as tears stung your eyes with a sudden viciousness.

“If you’ll follow me to the sitting room, we’ll find Miss Isobel, sir.” Mr. Atkinson stepped forward, shooting you a reproachful look.

You tensed rigidly with a quick nod. One of the footmen had arrived with a broom and dustpan to continue cleaning up your mess and you surrendered your tray filled with broken parts, wondering if they could all see the shattered pieces of your heart laying there upon it too. Dashing up the stairs towards Miss Isobel’s room, you endeavoured to regulate your breathing, not needing to dissolve into hysterics now. There was no escape. Your Waterloo had come, it seemed, and you may as well face up to the mess you created with your own two hands and a pen.

Knocking on the door, you entered only once Miss Isobel’s voice called out to you, finding her lounging on her bed with the newest edition of her favourite magazine.

“Miss Isobel, I wonder if I might have a moment of your time.” You clenched your fists at your sides, digging your nails into the heels of your palms, the ersatz bandage on your right hand driving home the purpose and necessity of what was about to be the most awkward conversation of your entire life.

She let the magazine drop to the duvet dramatically with an annoyed, expectant look upon her face as you clicked the door shut behind you.

“Captain Lewis Nixon is downstairs, Miss–”

“What?” She interrupted sharply and you took a shaky breath, seizing the last threads of your composure in a death grip.

“He’s come because…well I’m afraid he believes…” You struggled to sum up the litany of your offences tidily.

“Oh, do get on with it.” She huffed, tossing the periodical aside and sitting up, patting at her hair vainly to check the style was still in place.

“Captain Nixon is under the impression that you have been writing to him since May, Miss.” You forced the words out in a rush, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as she stood slowly.

“Whyever would he think that? He been drinking too much again?” She laughed snidely, smoothing her skirt.

Clenching your jaw, you shook your head firmly. “No. Because I’ve been writing to him in your name.” Your voice trembled but you managed to keep it at an audible volume, standing completely still as she stalked over to you with a cold rage in her eyes.

“Why you sneaky little bitch.” She sneered before her palm lashed out to smack across your left cheek with a harsh ‘crack.’

Blinking rapidly as your eyes immediately began to water, in retrospect you wished you had given her a piece of your mind, but in reality, all that tumbled out of your mouth was a series of apologies. “I am so very sorry, Miss, I just wanted him to feel supported while he fought overseas. I know it wasn’t my place and I swear I meant nothing by it I–”

“You are dismissed.” She cut you off with words you dreaded and yet expected all at once. “You filthy fortune hunter. Did you really think he’d fall for such stupid tricks?! What a foolish girl you were all along, just like I told Papa. He’s married you know?” The cruel glee that lit up her eyes before she began to laugh like a jackal made your blood curdle, the word ricocheting through your brain.

…married….Married…MARRIED…

“Now remove yourself from this house at once, I never want to see your face again. I will be sure to inform Atkinson and Papa just what you’ve done, you horrid girl.” She reached behind you to wrench to door open and pointed, sending you fleeing from the room towards the back stairs with that singular, devastating word still echoing in your mind as your vision began to blur.

Bursting into your room, your former room, you collected your limited number of possessions and roughly shoved them into your suitcase and duffel bag. Stripping out of your serving dress for most likely the last time you would ever wear such a garment, for you were surely leaving without a reference, you pulled on a wool dress and coat before taking your things down the servants’ stairs to the kitchen. Ignoring Mrs. Brigham’s call from the kitchen you dashed out to the garage to fetch your bicycle, strapping your luggage to the back fender and taking off down the side drive as fast as your legs could peddle.

Eventually you had to slow down, legs aching, lungs burning, allowing yourself to glide along the asphalt of the road into Swindon as you finally permitted the tears that had been brimming at your waterline to slide down your cheeks. In truth you should be more upset about the loss of your job, especially as the main breadwinner in your family, but it would be easy enough to get a job at the Railway Works. It most likely would pay better and have shorter hours too – your father had just never approved of you becoming a ‘canary girl’ with skin and hair tinged yellow from hours of pouring TNT into shells for use by the military. Well, he’d have to get over that now, if he wanted to keep the flat and have food in his belly.

No, the far more distressing thing in all this was the fact that you’d allowed yourself to develop such deep-seated feelings for a married man. It was honestly no surprise that Miss…just Isobel now…had carried on with him despite that knowledge, but that was a line you would have never allowed yourself to cross knowingly. You let out a wry, watery laugh. What a pathetic line to draw amidst lying, impersonation, and god knows what other sins you had surely committed. Your bicycle wobbled to a stop as it ran out of momentum, and you slowly began to pedal once more to keep progressing towards town. The heavy load would certainly double the usual time it took to get there.

The sound of vehicle approaching from behind had you carefully steering toward the shoulder, giving them as much room to pass as possible. As the American military jeep drove slowly past, you held your breath, heart plummeting to your stomach as it too pulled off onto the shoulder, stopping a few feet in front of you. Captain Nixon jumped from the left side and began striding back towards you with a very determined look upon his face. Of course, Isobel had told him everything, she had made it clear she would, you had been naïve to hope to avoid this moment. Dismounting carefully, you turned your head to quickly wipe at your face, wincing at the tenderness in your cheek born of Isobel’s palm, before turning back to find him standing directly in front of you.

“So, it was you.” His voice was quiet, quieter than you’d ever heard him speak, lacking his usual playfulness.

“Yes.” Your voice refused to come out in anything above a whisper, so you nodded to be sure he understood your answer, gripping the handlebars so tightly the cut on your palm ached in protest.

“Was it some kind of joke, then?” He scoffed, crossing his arms defensively and your eyes widened in horror at the idea of doing something so cruel.

Captain Nixon’s eyes flicked your throbbing cheek, and you wondered if it had started to swell. “No.” You replied with a firm shake of the head.

“Did…did you mean a word of it?” His voice was laced with a dangerously tempting hint of tenderness and you felt your lower lip tremble precariously.

Of course you had, every word of it in fact, but there was no way you could admit to such things now that you knew the full truth. Clearing your throat painfully you took a deep breath to steel your nerves.

“I see you’re not wearing your wedding ring, Captain. Were you afraid you’d lose it?” You replied to his question with one of your own, feeling every bit of pain that unfurled across his impeccable features as though it were your own.

Gritting your teeth against it, lest you give in to your weaker impulses, you steered your bicycle around him and continued on your way to town. Captain Nixon did not stop you. Did not say a word.

Regret would stalk you for weeks, your harsh, high-handed words replaying cruelly in your mind any time you read or heard about the surprise German offensive through the Ardennes.

Your hasty packing job had inevitably resulted in failure and Helen kindly took it upon herself to deliver the last few items you had missed on her day off. Word of your transgression had spread like wildfire through Lydiard House, and while she did not seem to approve of what you had done, she did have sympathy for Captain Nixon who had apparently ‘departed immediately for France’ after leaving that morning. It could not have been a full week before the Germans pushed through into Belgium and his Regiment was deployed in desperate defence.

The Battle of the Bulge was discussed endlessly at your easily acquired job at the Swindon Railway Works factory where you were immediately put on the assembly line filling shells with TNT and gingerly tapping detonators into their caps. Tap too hard and a girl could lose her limbs – it was something everyone on the floor had witnessed at least once, you were told. The exacting work was fairly sufficient to keep your mind off the fact that you had sent a man to his possible death with nothing but harsh admonishment.

If he had found you not fifteen minutes later, you may have been able to bite your tongue, to answer him truthfully. Surely, he had deserved it after the dishonesty you had perpetuated, but your pride and cheek were smarting awfully from your ill treatment at Isobel’s hand, and you had taken it out on him. For all your judgment of her as a twenty-five-year-old spoiled child, you had behaved no better when it truly mattered. You had not been very forthcoming with the details upon arriving home to your father, freshly unemployed, but he had tolerated your silence and poorly hidden tears as you made up your old twin bed in the corner of the sitting room.

You were also able to save a little money, no longer needing the neighbourhood girl to come by the flat to clean once a week as you were able to manage that outside your hours at the factory. In fact, you found yourself with too much free time, and a dramatic increase in wages, deciding to visit a used bookshop to pick up a novel to read just after New Year’s. The display in the shop window with a relatively new World Atlas caught your attention and you found yourself leaving with it as well as a well-worn copy of War and Peace so that you might finally finish it.

As your father turned on the BBC news broadcast on the wireless that evening, the pair of you sitting side-by-side on the worn sofa, you cracked open your Atlas to follow along with the locations named on the pages within. The mention of the 101st Airborne or the ‘Battered Bastards of Bastogne’ as they were now affectionately known, made you inhale sharply. You squinted at the small village on the page, a spider’s web of roads all converging on that singular dot, truly illustrating its strategic importance.

“I really don’t understand what happened up at the House, sweet pea, and you never have to tell me. But whoever that American Lieutenant is, you really ought to let him know how much you care for him.”

You looked to your father slowly, pressing your lips together before exhaling through your nose “He’s a Captain now.” You murmured softly.

“Whatever his rank, my girl, whatever transpired, tell him.” He eyed you firmly.

“But–”

He held up his hand, silencing you. “I won’t terrify you with the things I’ve seen or endured. But I swear to you there is nothing more important when the world is so intent on tearing itself apart.”

“Oh Daddy…” You sighed tearfully and he pulled you into his shoulder as you wiped at your eyes quickly. “…what if it’s too late?”

“Oh, sweet pea.” He squeezed you tightly into his side. “It might be, but at least you’ll have tried and that’s all any of us can really do.”

You nodded weepily, quieting down as Churchill came on to give an inspiring address before you stood to clean up for the night, seeing your father to bed before turning in yourself. As you lay in your bed in the corner of the room, staring at the water-stained ceiling, you turned your father’s words over and over in your mind, not getting a whole lot of rest. On your way home from work the next day, you stopped by the local store to pick up some nice paper and a new pen. With all the writing you had undertaken last year to both Captain Nixon and your brother, your stores were running low, and a fresh start felt appropriate for the task you were about to attempt.

As you father settled in to listen to the news that night, you took a seat at the small table in the kitchen, staring at the crisp, white sheets, gnawing on your lip thoughtfully.

You signed your name before tapping your pen against the tabletop thoughtfully and quickly added a postscript before you could convince yourself not to do it.

Folding it up carefully you looked up startled to see your father leaning in the doorway with a fond smile on his face. “Well done, sweet pea.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” You sighed softly, sealing the letter into the envelope before seeing him to bed.

Posting it on your way to work the next day, you tried to put it out of your mind. You had done your best, just as your father had encouraged, and now it was in the hands of the Royal Mail. As the weeks ticked by, you undeniably deflated a little more each time you checked the mail and found no response. Your resources to check on his welfare were limited, but according to what you had access to, Captain Nixon’s name was not on any of the grim lists of wounded, dead, or missing. Which most likely meant he was not replying to you by choice. It was no less than you deserved.

It was not until the beginning of March, the soft caress of spring chasing away winter’s chill, when you came home to find an odd grin on your father’s face. He could hardly sit still in his favourite chair, watching you intently as you reached for the pile of post on the end table. You eyed him a moment until he glanced at the letters in your hand, and you looked down to the immediately recognizable cursive, heart skittering and skipping a few beats as you traced the letters of your name written in Captain Lewis’s hand for the first time. Definitely alive.

“Think I’ll go down to the pub tonight.” Your father was halfway out the door before you looked up and you sighed deeply in response.

“Thank you, Daddy. Be home for dinner in an hour, alright?”

“An hour and a half.” He winked before making his way out.

Shucking off your jacket, you hung it on its peg near the door before sinking onto the worn sofa and used a butter knife to carefully open the envelope.

Laying the pages down onto the worn tabletop you cupped your cheeks, aching from the broad grin that had taken up residence there as you read Captain Nixon’s letter. It was quite honestly more than you could have hoped for in a reply. More than you felt you were worthy of. Like a reward for bad behaviour, but one that you had spent the past month and a half trying to deny you craved to the very marrow of your bones.

It took a lot of restraint not to pull out a sheet of paper and begin a reply immediately, but the insistent growl of your stomach reminded you that neither you nor your father had eaten dinner yet. But after. After you were both fed, you were most certainly going to stay up far too late answering his question.

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