#I just wanted to paint him as a candy cane dancer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Merry & Bright {5}: Pretend That We’re There

youtube

Previous: Baby, Please

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing! Kissing!

Summary: A Christmas tree farm with your love is the perfect way to spend a December evening.

Christmas lights are strung across exposed wooden beams. Icicles pinned to the peaks of the exterior, shimmering off the naturally reflective snow. The snow, freshly fallen, is still pristine, unblemished by the people who have just walked through the front doors of the Christmas Tree Farm. The air, ripe with pine and mulled wine and hot apple cider sweeps through the space, engulfing everyone in a sugar-coated induced holiday coma.

Ho-Seok holds your hand, the warmth from his enrapturing yours. You feel his thumb making circles against the back of your hand, and glancing at him, you can’t help but smile. His eyes are wide, too wide, as if the larger his eyes are the more exposure he has, resulting in capturing the best memories. His mouth is mimicking his eyes, jaw slacked as he takes in the festive decorations and bustle of strangers, all smiling and happy as they engage in their own Christmas traditions. The music is soft, some version of What Christmas Means to Me, and Ho-Seok bobs his head to the beat.

“Whoa,” He says, stopping in the middle of the space to fully take it in. “This is, incredible.”

He moves slowly, eyes sweeping over the vendors selling mulled wine and apple cider, the stands of ornaments and Christmas trinkets, the signs pointing towards the animals and Christmas trees. The smells overwhelming his senses as he tries to locate the booth of fresh cookies and sweets.

“Whoa,” He repeats.

“Where should we start?” You ask.

“Animals?” He suggests.

“Perfect,” You can’t stop smiling, his joy radiating against yours.

You walk through the venue, making your way quickly to the reindeer, glancing at the sign pointing you towards the full stable of nativity animals. They have a donkey, sheep, a camel, everything that would’ve welcomed the baby Jesus into the world. Squealing as you notice a baby reindeer, Ho-Seok takes a photo as you giddily pay the few dollars for a couple of carrots to feed them.

“Do you think reindeer are better than people?” You whisper to the reindeer, all gathered to nibble the carrots you are offering. “We’re not all bad, especially him,” You jerk your head towards Ho-Seok, who is busy snapping pictures of you. “He’s pretty fucking great.”

“Y/N! Don’t swear at the animals!” Ho-Seok scolds, slipping his hand into his pocket.

“It was a compliment,” You wink.

“I wonder if they’ll paint one of their noses red,” He asks, taking a carrot from you.

“Maybe, I wonder if they have the full line up,” You say.

“Dasher and Dancer and Donner and Blitzen!” He says full conviction in his voice.

“Do you really know them all?” You ask, amazed he’d retained that tidbit.

“No, they’re on that sign!” Ho-Seok guffaws.

“You’re the worst!” You say lightly hitting him.

“Let’s go see them, maybe someone will take our photo!” Ho-Seok pulls you along to explore the rest of the stables.

Together you are in awe of the nativity scene, real people seated amongst the animals, a reader telling the story of the birth of Jesus. As you wander past it, you notice an arrow pointing towards Santa, and another reader is flawlessly reciting Twas the Night Before Christmas. Children and their willing parents are lined up to take a picture with Santa, his elves passing out candy canes to waiting children.

“Did you ever take Santa photos?” HO-Seok asks.

“No, absolutely not!” You respond, eyes wide.

“Never?”

“I think they tried one year with my sister, and never with me,”

“She ruined it?” He inquires.

“No, it’s just, weird. That’s not even,” You lower your voice, “The real Santa.”

“Y/N, are you telling me you still believe?” He asks, shocked.

“I’m saying that some of these kids don’t know that these Santas aren’t real, they work for Santa and do his work around the world while he’s busy planning the route and checking his list, twice,” Your voice doesn’t waver, causing Ho-Seok to wonder if you truly believe this. Your eyes are just wide enough, innocence fresh as you explain the innerworkings of Santa Claus.

“Oh, makes sense,” He says nodding. He loved your nonsense stories, your traditions or quirks that made him scratch his head. He didn’t know people like you existed, people who still believed in the magic of the holiday season.

“Are you thirsty?” You ask, guiding him back towards the main barn.

“Mm, yes, and hungry,” He says.

“I’ll get the cider; you get the cookies?”

“Meet in the middle?” He offers. You nod, kiss him quickly and maneuver through the crowds to the vendor selling hot apple cider. You opt for the traditional beverage, though the temptation for a spiked cider is very appealing. Slowly you make your way through the extra stalls, looking at the gifts and the joy on everyone’s face. This is Christmas, the magic of giving and receiving, the bliss of spending time with family. It was all you wanted, wandering a Christmas Tree farm with someone you love, sipping cider, nibbling cookies, trying not to sing to the carols and songs playing.

You circle through and find yourself in the middle, where Ho-Seok stood, still staring in awe at the Christmas bazaar. You exchanged your items, a cider for him, a sugar cookie for you, and began to walk through the stalls.

“We should get something,” He suggests.

“Like what?” You ask.

“Something special, to commemorate this trip,”

“Hmm, something to take out every year?” You clarify.

“Yes, like an ornament,” He says.

You agree, knowing full well he will never be able to decide, the temptation to buy them all and trying to find the most perfect one will overwhelm him, and he’ll leave empty handed.

In true fashion, thirty minutes later, all stalls visited twice, drinks and cookies gone, Ho-Seok stands empty handed.

“I don’t know why this is so hard,” He’s frustrated.

“Babe, you knew this was going to happen,” You say softly, lips moving swiftly to kiss his.

“I wanted to just, find something special.”

“Maybe you’re looking too hard,” You shrug, hands moving from his shoulders to capture his hands in yours.

“Maybe,” He says, still pouting.

“Do you want to dance before we go?” You suggest, eyebrows wagging.

“Dance?” He questions, no one was dancing around you, no couples were swaying to the tunes from overhead, no one holding their loved one close, absentmindedly stepping in time to the beat.

“Yeah, listen,” You say, closing your eyes.

Ho-Seok copies you, and faintly he hears a favorite, I’ll Be Home for Christmas. With your hands, still in his, you pull him closer to a corner speaker. He lets go first, only to place his hands on your hips, pulling you to him. Your hands around his neck, you sway, both singing lightly to the song. Your love, much like a bow on a present, ties you together. The joy of a Christmas spent together, enjoying the festivities brings out the adoration you have for one another. Even when he’s frustrated, even when you’re hopped up on sugar, like the star in the sky, you always find your way to each other.

Two days later, a fire raging, Ho-Seok sits next to you on the couch, an arm lightly tossed behind you, drawing you into his side.

“This is for you,” You say, untangling yourself from him and hand him a wrapped box.

He smiles, beams, as he carefully slips off the immaculate ribbon and tears the paper. He’s careful with the weight, it’s heavy, which confuses him based on the boxes size. He looks at you, confused.

“What is this?” He asks, opening the box and removing the tissue paper. Carefully he takes out the bulbous snow globe. His eyes are wide, words ceasing to flow from his lips. “When did you, how did you?”

“You went to take a picture of something, right before we left, and I picked it up,” You shrug. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” He says, shaking the snow globe lightly, the glitter and snow swirling around the Christmas trees, mimicking the farm you’d spent an evening at just a day or two ago. On the placard at the base of the globe reads “May every wish come true”.

“It’s perfect,” He says, still staring at the orb.

“When you’re alone, you can shake it and be transported back here, to our time together,” You say, leaning forward to rest a cheek on his shoulder. His mind is still absorbed in the gift, the love you have for him… the love he has for you, a marvel.

“When I’m feeling alone, I’ll have you to remind me of home,” Ho-Seok whispers to the snow globe.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” You say, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek.

Next: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

#25 days of christmas #christmas drabbles #christmas writing challenge #merry and bright #merryandbright2020 #jung hoseok #Hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #J Hope drabbles #hobi drabbles #BTS #BTS fanfic #BTS fanfiction #thebtswritersclub #btsgoldnet #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet

15 notes · View notes

holy-hyuck · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids Reaction: Falling for/Crushing on a Foreigner

Woojin

The air was warm on the night Woojin found himself wandering the streets of Perth. It was unusually quiet, thanks to work starting the next day, and coincidentally, it was the only time for the eldest Stray Kid to relax.

His phone dinged and he pulled it out of his pocket to see the message Chan has sent him, that he and Felix are visiting the leader’s parents, and the rest of the boys won’t be home until nine. It was only seven, and at a time like this, when the city normally roared with life, Woojin was glad he had enough space to organise his thoughts.

He entered a small bar, taking in the homely interior, the beige walls and brown leather couches, and the little stage in the middle with the spotlight off, like it hasn't been used in a while. It seemed like a local cafe more than anything, but regardless, the boy ordered himself a beer and sat down in one of the booths up against the wall.

The place was quiet, yet he felt the energy in it bouncing off his skin. A slow yet funky song played on the radio as the sound of glasses clinking and people letting out earnest laughs reached his ears, filling the small room to the brims with life.

He lost himself to his thoughts, the glass of golden liquid already half-empty by the time he heard clapping around the room. He saw a shadow pass by the stage, a guitar in hand as someone sat down on a lonely stool. You were still covered in darkness as the light bulb above your head remained off, and Woojin could not see your face.

He did, however, hear you sing, and this time, he lost himself in your voice. People swayed from side to side, your family smiling proudly, sitting closest to the stage, and something told Woojin that you were the soul that brought this place to life, painted the dull walls with all the colours of the rainbow and beyond. The words rolling off your tongue, sweet as candy, were foreign to him, and yet he understood everything, for music didn't need a language to be heard.

He ran his hand over the goosebumps on his skin, the harmony in your voice settling his racing heart. He didn't even notice when you stopped, the applause muffled by the heartbeat he felt thudding in his ears. They gave you the stage for three minutes, and you took him on a journey through your dreams and hopes. In the end, he could only hope you let him do it again.

As the bar started closing, Woojin was left with an empty glass and a longing for more. More of the drink, more of the music, and more of you.

Your family left a few minutes ago, letting you gather your things and run to the toilet before you had to go home. When you came back, straightening your shirt and grabbing your guitar, you noticed a small note on your table. Picking it up, you expected just about everything but the words written on it: 'your voice is heaven', with a number written underneath, and a small halos above the 'i's.

You felt warmth rush through your body, looking up just to catch the kind eyes of the man who sat in the booth lining the back wall. He sent a shy smile your way before disappearing behind the wall, and all you could do was press the inked paper against your ribcage, and feel you heart drumming against it.

Chan

The first time Chan met you was at a bus stop. He was on holidays with his family and within the first day, he realised public transport would be easier than walking everywhere. You always came a few minutes early, then compulsively checked your watch every half a minute or so. The watch was on your left hand, a leather bracelet on the other.

He met you at the bus stop almost every morning, and besides the two of you, there was only an older couple. The first time, he sat down on the bench and watched your figure until he got caught. You seemed to think nothing of it because you never noticed his staring from then onwards, and believe me, he's been staring a lot.

One fateful day, the bus was full, and you ended up gripping the orange bars for support as you stood in the moving vehicle. As it came to a halt at a red light, you stumbled on your feet and crashed your back against Chan's chest as the two of you nearly tumbled down. Thankfully, his hands gripped your waist and steadied you. You turned around, wanting to thank him, and didn't realise how short the distance between the two of you was until you could feel his breath brushing against your cheek.

"Thank you," you said, and Chan stood there mesmerised, thinking of how much more breathtaking you looked up close. The sun coming in through the windows changed the colours in your eyes and he could see the faint shadow of your eyelashes on your cheeks.

"Y-you're welcome," he stuttered out, looking down on the floor and hoping the blinding sun hid his flushed face.

You turned back around, the bus coming to a stop and you exited, smiling at the ground and thinking back to the handsome stranger. You knew him, of course, you weren't oblivious to your surroundings. He was the man sitting at the back seats of the bus during your daily commute. He was the blond that your friends heard about since the first day you met him at the bus stop, your regular day painted with an array of colours in an instant. Yet, you never spoke to him, and that day, you decided to change that.

The next day, you took your usual route to the bus stop, your face lighting up at the sight of the blond-haired boy. You cleared your throat, using up your last bit of courage to sit next to him and introduce yourself. You talked, that day and every day after that, for as long as he stayed.

Your mornings just got a hell lot more interesting.

Minho

You wiped the sweat from your forehead. You were falling ill right before Stray Kids’s big performance - your big performance. You had trained all your life for situations like these; to work in unity with the rest of the backup dancers and the idols themselves, and give the audience an unforgettable night.

You tightened the knot of your oversized tee and let out a cough, before hearing a knock on the doors of the practice room. Minho stood there, before walking in and offering you the water bottle in his hands. You gladly took it, albeit with hesitation, and drank up as much as you could, which - unsurprisingly enough - didn’t ease the tickling in your throat and you swallowed down the urge to keep coughing.

“Thank you,” you said and bowed, a weak but genuine gesture. There was so little strength in your body at this point that you were surprised you haven’t fainted yet.

“You should get some rest before tomorrow.” He put his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, looking rather attractive as he did so.

You shook your head. There was no way you were crushing on an idol. You were just a replacement for one of his backup dancers that couldn’t be with them on their tour. Once this week was over, so would be your relationship; he would become an idol on the screen, and you, a nobody, again.

“So should you.”

“I will if you will.” You felt a smile spread across your face, and you fought hard to reduce it to a minimum.

You managed to give him a nod, pressing your lips into a thin line, and he took a long second before nodding back at you and leaving the room.

Once you were on your own, you let out a big sigh, running your hands down your face. Your heart was racing from the interaction.

You were in deep shit.

You felt your heart drum in your chest, muddling the sound of the music, so much you almost missed your cue to start dancing. The adrenaline running through your bloodstream kept you going until the song came to an end, and before you knew it, you were running on and off stage, before the show came to an end altogether.

Gathered around with some of the dancers you made friends with, you all congratulated each other with smiles adorning your faces: all your efforts finally paid off. As the last person left, you saw a figure coming your way; Minho was high fiving the other dancers that came his way before stopping in front of you.

You two were alone, and yet again, you felt your heartbeat speed up just at the sight of him.

“Well done,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, becoming timid in his presence. “Really, I should be-”

He cut you off by coming closer, the short distance between you two dangerous, as was the beating of your hearts and the heat coming from his skin. You felt it when his lips came inches apart from yours, and he only spared you a glance before tasting your lips, eyes closing off in pleasure.

He was sweet and salty, a perfect mix between what you loved and what you feared. He was a forbidden fruit but tasted so, so sweet, like sugar canes and cotton candy, and you felt like a child on Christmas day, your stomach exploding from all the butterflies.

But as soon as it started, it came to an end, and you were left with the bitter taste of heartbreak. You and Minho were two parallel lines, never meant to touch.

Changbin

"By the way, (y/n) is here," one of the workers said before walking out of Changbin's studio. The boy nodded his head, and once the room was empty, he took his shirt between his hands and moved it away from his skin, suddenly feeling hot and nervous.

He scrambled to get some mints, spraying some perfume into the room, then settled down and acted natural - as much as he could around you, anyway. He has been cooped up in here alone these past few hours; in fact, he spent most of the day here the past few weeks, working on some tracks as the deadlines Chan set him began approaching.

You, a fresh foreign artist, were helping him with a particular track. The first few sessions, you were just meant to help compose it until Jisung suggested you feature on the track, and - though reluctantly - you had agreed. Today, you were meant to polish it, then go to the recording studio together.

Hearing a knock on the door, Changbin panicked, noticing the food wraps and food containers littering the floor. You came over at the same time every Tuesday and Friday, and he still managed to be a mess right before you came.

You entered the small room, and Changbin hoped you haven't noticed the disaster on the carpeted floors. You have, but as usual, you didn't comment, and relief (as well as embarrassment) filled the boy.

"Hey. How are you today? Did you go over the lyrics I left?" you asked. Your Korean has noticeably improved ever since the two of you started working together. Now, you could hold a normal conversation, and whilst Changbin was glad he didn't have to deal with awkward silence, he was also aware that you could notice his nervousness around you.

He greeted you and complimented your work, making notes of the improvements he thought you should put in. Nodding, you sat next to him and took a pencil in your hand, scribbling on the sheet of paper you printed out before your last session.

Changbin's gaze travelled to the bottom lip trapped between your teeth, the intense look covering your features making his heart drop into his stomach. It was a heavy feeling, but pleasant nonetheless, even if the situation between you two was complicated. The two of you didn't particularly grow close; at the end of the day, when this song was done, he would go back to being the main rapper of Stray Kids, and you would go back to being the precious gemstone of your own country.

Without realising, he leaned forward until his shadow covered the white sheet of paper and startled you. His hot breath and proximity were all you could think of when you jumped back, perplexed at his behaviour.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," he mumbled, picking up the pens you dropped. You stared at his flushed cheeks, at his eyebrow piercing and his lips, pulled into a thin line.

"Don't be." And at that moment, you threw away all your worries and precautions, leaning in to capture his lips in a short, chaste kiss. You didn't have time to breathe, because as soon as you pulled away, he pulled you back in, never tired of the way you tasted.

Without knowing what this meant for you two, you let yourself get lost in each other.

Hyunjin

Escaping the humidity outside, he entered the cafe, breathing in the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins. He knew he had to try one, but not before getting a hot beverage to warm up his body. He came up to the counter, looking up at the menu hang up on the wall, reading through the variety of drinks they had. Finally, he made up his mind and opened his mouth to tell the cashier his order, when he met your eyes and froze in place.

"What can I get you?" you asked in a cheery voice.

"I-um...I-" His eyes darted between you and the menu, and his order suddenly vanished from his head, and the only thing that occupied it was your bright smile. "C-Coffee," he mumbled, even though he wasn't a huge coffee fan. He really just couldn't come up with another answer.

After you made his order, you called out his name and handed him the cup with a smile, and he nearly dropped the drink on the ground.

Although he was hoping he would never have to embarrass himself like that again, his stay was much longer than he anticipated, and your place was the warmest and friendliest coffee shop he has ever been in, and so he found himself coming back each time. And each time, his brain short-circuited and he ordered the same cup of that damn, bitter, disgusting coffee, even if he couldn't stand the taste.

On his last day, right before his train back home, he came into the shop one last time, a smile forcing his way onto his lips even though he was sad about leaving. You were working, keeping yourself busy with customers, the same bright expression on your face as always.

Hyunjin came up to the counter, but before he could open his mouth, you said, "I know," and disappeared to make his coffee.

He thanked you once he got it, bringing the cup to his lips to taste the bitterness one last time, trying to savour the taste that he despised so much, but the sweetness on his tongue caught him off guard.

"Hmm?" He made a funny face, prompting a giggle out of you.

"I know you hate coffee. You can't hide that grimace on your face very well," you explained, leaning your elbows on the countertop.

"Oh." He nodded, taking another sip and sighing in content. Then, he noticed the scribble on the white paper, a set of digits along with your name. "Oh."

He looked at you, confused. You sent him a wink before greeting another customer. Hyunjin blushed, stumbling out of the shop, his body now hot not just from the beverage he held in his hands, but also from the enounter, and the chance of meeting you again.

Jisung

"Mr Han, I'm glad to see you here. Could you show the new transfer student around? You speak English, don't you?"

Jisung felt his eyes roll to the back of his head. After a night of cramming for the exam that was cancelled at the last minute, he didn't want to deal with any people. Any other day would be fine, just not today.

He nodded his head, knowing that he wouldn't win the argument with his teacher. "Oh, they're here," the man said, leaving Jisung behind to greet you.

Wow, you were...really attractive, actually, the teenager found himself thinking, his hands going up to straighten his collar and brush the invisible dust off his pants. On his way to you, he looked in the window and ran his fingertips through his hair to flatten any baby hairs that fell out of place.

"Hi, I'm Jisung!" he exclaimed, sticking his hand out.

"(Y/n)," you muttered, rather shyly. You hated moving schools, but moving countries was even worse. The principal told Jisung something, but everything passed over your head. You were never going to fit in; the thought, although involuntary, saddened you.

"Hey, don't be sad," Jisung said, placing his hands under your chin and lifting it up, and at the speed of light, as if just realising his actions, he pulled away, laughing nervously.

That day, he showed you around, and though he was a strange person, you've grown to like him. He laughed easily and smiled frequently. His eyes twinkled when he showed you certain places and you imagined they must have meant a lot to him. He talked fast and his English was too good for someone who learnt it for such a short period of time, and sometimes, you were certain he was better than you. He was your only friend, and even though he tried introducing you to some of his friends, you never felt as close to them as you did to him.

It was the last day of school and your father was waiting for you in his car. Jisung waved at him, smiling up at you as you stood on the steps leading to the place you two met for the first time. The sun shone in your eyes and your beauty was blinding, and he couldn't help but let his smile widen as he thought of the entire summer that he would spend with you. Maybe, just maybe, he would finally get the courage to confess.

He noticed the way you played with straps of your backpack and bit your lip until it bled. "You okay?" He hesitated before asking, afraid of the answer.

"I'm moving away," you rushed the answer, already having delayed it a few days.

"You're what now?" he asked, incredulous.

"I'm sorry, Jisung. It's...my dad got his old job back in my country. Seeing as it's just the two of us here, I can't exactly stay. I tried changing his mind but I'm afraid I can't do anything to make him stay. I'm sorry."

You pushed yourself forward, enveloping him in a hug as he felt his hands go numb, unable to hug you back. You let a stray tear fall down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away, leaving no trace, and pushing yourself off of him.

You looked at him, expecting something, a goodbye, a protest, a response of any kind, but your ears and eyes were left with nothing but silence and the look of emptiness on Jisung's face.

"You're really leaving?" he finally muttered, receiving a nod in response. You squeezed his hand, dragging your feet towards your father's car, knowing that Jisung'd reply would come in a text, but you would already be thousands of miles away from him.

Jisung stood alone on the school steps, students leaving the facility with excitement flooding their veins, and all Jisung could think about was that he fell for you, and he fell hard, for the person who was never meant to stay.

Felix

For Felix, it was love at first sight. You walked into the cafe on a Saturday afternoon, and the light followed you inside, casting a shadow on the wooden floor, your eyes glimmering with such child-like wonder and innocence that Felix couldn't help but be blinded by them, and he fell for you as easily as he fell asleep that night, thoughts still drifting back to you.

You were there every Monday, Friday, and Saturday, around the same time depending on the day. Mondays and Fridays you would order something with caffeine in it, and on the weekend, walking in wearing something short and breathable, sweat rolling down your forehead on certain days, you would get an iced tea.

You always brought your own cup for the beverage, and the barista must have known you because he never really asked for the order, like there was some silent understanding between you two.

The freckled boy seated by the window wished he had that with you. In the end, he was very well aware that he was just a stranger to you, and, end of the summer come, he would never see you again.

Felix sighed, staring into his empty cup. He spent the last twenty minutes getting distracted by your beauty and had to drink a cold coffee as a result. In his mind, it was a good choice to make. Just like every other choice he made concerning you. It was pathetic, he knew, but he couldn't help it any more than he could help sneezing, or yawning, or getting hungry.

One day he decided to go for it and talk to you. Perhaps it was stupidity. Perhaps blind hope. Maybe even reckless bravery. But after downing the rest of his (hot) coffee, and wincing as his tongue burned, he made his way towards your table.

You were sitting with a pair of glasses perched up on your nose, head buried in a giant book as your eyes scanned the pages before making notes in a notebook. He noticed your pen changed; now it was a standard one, the ink blue, as opposed to the multi-coloured one you always used.

His feet carried him towards your table until he was just a few steps away from you, but his view was obstructed by denim. Your focused face burst into a smile worth gold and you leaned up on your hands to plant a kiss on another boys' lips. He smiled, too, and sat across from you, making a joke about how you will die with a book in your hands.

Felix watched the scene unfold behind a screen, time stopping in place. You reached out for his heart and squeezed it hard until it bled love. The pain spread to every inch of his body and he wished the beating in his ears stopped for just a moment so he could collect himself, calm his breathing and clear his head.

His love died, and you didn't care. His heart shattered, and you walked past the pieces like they were nothing but trash. You broke his heart without even knowing his name. His world crumbled, and life went on. And he knew he had to go on, even if it hurt like hell.

Seungmin

Seungmin swiped his finger across the screen of his camera. If he imagined long enough, it's almost like he was touching you in real life, but he knew how pathetic that sounded. He took the picture of you sitting on a bench, doodling in a notebook, this morning. Your image lingered in the lens, never to come to life the way Seungmin wished it would.

With a sigh, he pressed a few buttons, deleting the photograph. He already felt creepy enough as it is, coming to the park and taking pictures of you.

Well, a picture.

The first one was an accident, he swore to Chan when he asked him about it. He was trying to get a good shot of some flowers on the trees, but the camera zoomed in on you in the background at the last second. You were by a lake, feeding ducks. That evening, as he was going through the roll, deleting the many unsuccessful photographs, he stumbled upon that one. With a heavy heart, after a few minutes of staring and admiring, he deleted that one too.

He found himself at the park quite often, and sometimes, you were there too. And sometimes, he would take a picture of you, something to remember you by, but would end up getting rid of the evidence the same night.

He was too shy to ever even talk to you, and the one time you caught his gaze when both of you were in the corner shop, he turned away with a beet red face.

On the last day of his stay, Seungmin couldn't believe he's gone almost two weeks without exchanging so much as a word with you, and now it was his turn to leave. He was the first one ready, his duffle bag gripped in his hand. He dropped in by the shop to get some sweets for the journey, reaching his hand out to grab a bag of jelly beans, when the door opened and someone bumped into him. He looked up, making brief eye-contact with you, painfully aware of his racing heart.

"Sorry," you said, catching his eye. You sent him a small smile, recognising him from the park, looking down when his proximity made your face hot. "I like your shoes," you added, making your way to the back of the shop before Seungmin could even reply.

Dazed, he made his way out of the shop without buying anything, and got into the coach that would take him and the rest of the members back home.

He took his camera into his hands, going through his pictures and stopping on the last one taken. It was of the sunset, and yet, you still made an appearance, running a hand through your hair. He lingered on it for a second, but the vehicle started moving, and he knew it was too late now to do anything. He knew that he couldn't keep that picture forever, not even in his heart.

Finally, he pressed delete.

Jeongin

"Why are we getting new students at the end of the year?" your friend and designated seatmate whispered to you as you saw the two new guys enter your classroom. It was a mixed group, so who knows what ages they were. Even you and your friend, Chae, were a year apart.

You looked up from your history book, this time taking longer to inspect the fresh meat. They were both wearing simple clothes and had backpacks slung lazily over their shoulders. They were speaking words between themselves, in a language you didn't understand, and in a hushed tone that didn't let you pick up on any phrases.

"Class," your teacher said in a gentle manner, only needing to tap her pen on the whiteboard before the class tuned into her voice, "these are the transfer students I mentioned a few weeks back. They're both from South Korea on an exchange program, until the end of the year. Bear with if you can't communicate well, I'm sure it will come with time. I hope everyone will be on their best behaviour." She directed her gaze towards Eric at the end, who only threw her a peace sign in response.

You must have missed that time she mentioned an exchange program. You must have also missed the past two years in this school, because you didn't know it was an annual affair.

You shared a look with your friend as she shrugged her shoulders. Without further ado, you watched for a second as the students sat down, then went back to your textbook.

With only two weeks before the school year ended, and over five since the exchange students came, preparations for exams were the only thing on your mind as of lately. You adjusted the straps on your backpack and hurried to the rented library room your study group took place in. It consisted of ten people total, because Chae had trouble saying no to people.

Hyunjin and Jeongin, the two exchange students, were there too. They adapted rather quickly, albeit both were shy people. You tried conversing a few times, sometimes even successfully, but you were far from friends, and they were leaving soon anyway. They were nice people, though.

"Stop staring." You heard Hyunjin hiss, nudging his friend.

They sat with Eric, who just mumbled, "lovesick fool", before getting back to his studies. You weren't sure if the boy understood but based on his beet-red face, he most likely did.

Shaking your head, you also went back to your textbooks, but as you opened the covers, the printed words were covered with a bright red envelope with your name written in cursive.

Your face became as red as the envelope - or at least that's what it felt like - and you quickly took the letter out of your textbook and placed it into your bag, careful not to fold the edges.

These letters, though anonymous, were very precious to you. They started coming about three weeks ago, every school day without a fail. Albeit written in broken English, they were beautiful and comforting, and never failed to make you flustered.

You continued as if nothing happened until the study session finished and everybody went home. As you were packing up your things, you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, so light that you could've missed it. You turned around to see Jeongin looking at you with a timid expression.

"Yes?" you asked, returning to packing up.

"Did you..the letter?" he asked, panic rising like bile in his throat. He has never been this nervous; it was almost enough to activate his fight-or-flight response.

"Did...wait- Were you the one that left it? Love letter? Red envelope?" All that the boy in question could do was nod his head. "Wow, I'm...thank you."

Speechless. Flattered. Grateful. Not sure how to react because perhaps I find you cute as well but you're leaving in two weeks and a long-distance relationship between two people who don't speak each other's languages could never work even though I would be willing to try - were all the things you could have said instead but you didn't. You weren't sure if they mattered anyway because the boy left as quickly as he appeared, leaving you alone and disappointed. You wanted something more, but alas, it was too crazy to happen.

With that, you left home as well. Your preparations lasted the next two weeks, and after the exams finished, your school threw a little get-together to say goodbye to the exchange students, as well as all the memories they made in your school.

Even though you were exhausted after the exams, you went, knowing that this will be your last chance to see Jeongin. He deserved a proper goodbye after all.

You came up to the boy, watching Eric squeeze the life out of him, and making him promise to call at least once a week.

"Hi," you said, and watched a blush rise to his cheeks as he smiled bashfully. You slipped him a piece of paper, then grabbed his shirt to pull him closer, whispering in his ear, "Don't you dare forget about me."

And with one last burst of confidence, you placed a kiss on his cheek before fleeing the scene, leaving Jeongin to calm his racing heart.

#skzwritersclub #stray kids reactions #kim woojin reaction #bang chan reaction #lee minho reaction #seo changbin reaction #hwang hyunjin reaction #han jisung reaction #lee felix reaction #kim seungmin reaction #yang jeongin reaction

140 notes · View notes

antihero-writings · 4 years

Text

Reminded by a Flower—Pandora Hearts fic for Phmonth19, Rainsworth Trio, Day 6: Flowers (Full fic)

Fic Title: The Simplest Gifts

Chapter Title: Reminded by a Flower

Fic Summary: Christmas may not be the happiest time for the Children of Misfortune, still, sometimes it's the simplest things that can bring joy

Notes: This was a Christmas fic I started during Phmonth18 last year. I wasn't able to write Break’s chapter for it, so I decided to use one of the Phmonth19 prompts to finish it this year! Oh, and you dont need to have read the other chapters to understand this one!

Fic:

Kevin crouched beside a flowerbed. Most of the flowers were white, especially considering the snow, but as he dusted off the frost he found a single red bloom amongst the rest.

“Which of them is to be tonight’s victim?” a voice only he could hear said behind him.

He glanced over to the group it was referring to, which probably looked like a lavish dinner table to the Chain.

Christmas had taken over the town. Evergreen trees were set up like well-decorated sentries at the corners of streets, a large one guarding the town square. Candles, tinsel, ribbons, bells, and other assorted decoration had claimed shops and houses as their own, inside and out. There was barely a person without a candy cane, gingerbread or other cookie in their mouth. The children were especially affected by its cheer, making angels and fights out of the cold.

People did litter the area, carolers, rich folks in suits and fancy dresses, chatting in benches, poor people in rags sharing bread and a smile, kids slipping and giggling as they fell on on the ice, families, parents holding their children’s’ hands, friends drinking together.

The world rarely looked so alive, so…merry. Often he wouldn’t care, his eyes glazed with the potency of his goal…Today was different.

He returned his gaze to the flora, reaching down and picking the red bloom.

“Master?” Albus asked.

*****

He had never seen the place so alive. The manor, the family, always radiated a sort of warmth, but the glow of the assorted candles, the fires in their places—picture perfect, like everything else— the reflections in the ornaments and plates glittering like the sunset on the ocean were enough to make anyone feel the cheer of the time of year. The sweet scent of pine flittered down from the trees, the aroma of cakes, gingerbread, and other treats drifting in and out of each room. The hubbub of party guests, along with music, floated in the air like butterflies drawn by the lamplight.

Kevin stood by the door, his eyes sharp, surveying the room, the guests, like a guard dog, always trying to find a threat, never fully relaxed. It was his job of course, but the festivities didn’t appear to interest him in general. The guests, with their fanciful dresses, words, and smiles, didn’t seem to notice the young man either, like he was just a decoration, a painting in black, white, and red, on the back wall.

Two did notice him, however: a rather large man, with a brown—greying—beard, wearing a nice black suit, (the tie only slightly askew), with a white flower on his lapel, a smile on his face, and a little girl with short blonde hair sitting on one of his shoulders.

“Roman-sama,” Kevin bowed to his master. “Do you require my services?”

He laughed a little. “No, no…Well, yes. Actually…seeing as it’s Christmas, little Emily wants to give you something.”

Kevin blinked, as if waiting for the punchline. The thought that his master’s daughter would give him, a servant, a gift for Christmas, was at the least improper, at the most mad.

Upon seeing the quizzical look on his face, Roman grinned. “Come now, it’s Christmas!! Will you not allow one little gift?” he leaned over and spoke behind his hand, (though she could probably still hear him), “if you don’t accept, the little tyrant might just get offended. We wouldn’t want that, would we? Who can tell what her majesty’s ruling would be?”

“Please, I couldn’t possibly accept—”

“Keeviin!!” The little girl moaned. “Just let me do something nice for you, you dummy!”

He blinked. He knew The Sinclairs to be both benevolent and stubborn, but this was something else.

“My apologies, Ojousama,” he bowed.

The little girl had been attempting to hide something by keeping it behind her father’s back. Roman now lifted her off his shoulders, giving her to the floor. She pattered up to Kevin and offered him the gift with the innocent smile only little girls are capable of.

It was a red flower.

He blinked, reaching down and plucking it from her hand.

“It’s a…I forget what they’re called. But I’ve only ever seen these flowers be white. I’d never seen a red one, and it made me think of your eyes!”

The aforementioned eyes widened.

“See, I’ve never seen a person with red eyes either! I think they’re really pretty…and I just thought maybe you and the flower should be together!” She put her hands behind her back and swayed back and forth.

Others had noticed his eyes too...’noticed’ was a bit of an understatement. At her age he often got bullied for his strange appearance, but as he grew older people would often avoid eye contact, or seem very uneasy beneath his gaze…and those were some of the milder reactions.

“Well, what do you say?” Roman said like someone had just complimented his young son. Kevin cleared his throat and spoke properly and simply. “Thank you…I appreciate it,” he added when she continued staring at him.

She grinned, giving a small curtsey. “Good. Then I won’t have to behead you for your impudence!”

Something of his expression must have shown his shock because her father laughed, patting her head, ruffling her hair, “Always the little jester, this one.”

“Father! You’ll mess up my hair!” the Sinclair girl put her hands on her head, scowling at him.

“Sorry, sunshine!”

She took his hand, dragging her father back out into the party.

“We’ve leave you to keep manning the fort!” Roman saluted, and Emily waved.

Kevin leaned back against the wall, twirling the stem, watching the petals twist like a dancer in a red dress, trying to hide his smile.

*****

Kevin twisted the stem between his thumb and forefinger.

The same flower, but the times were so different.

A lot can change in a year.

“Master?” Albus asked again.

Kevin stood, looking the way of the painting-like scene the Chain looked at as a menu.

“It’s Christmas,” he said softly.

On this day last year, he was in a warm manor, the knight of an even warmer family. On this day last year he was a part of these traditions and games, even if on the sidelines.

Now he was cast out of that world, and no fires warmed his skin, no glittering lights peppered his vision, no candy or cake gracing his tongue…Not that having come now could sooth the ache in his stomach.

“And?”

His eyes darted from the twirling children to the twirling petals in his hand.

But others could still enjoy the warmth of this day. Even he was alone, and cold, his eyes attuned to the dark, others still gave each other gifts, and told stories, and ate sweets in the firelight. Others still had families they could sit with, and who they would be devastated to lose…especially tonight.

He began walking forward, tossing the bloom to the ground, it landing like a drop of blood on the snow.

“I won’t be killing anyone tonight.”

*****

“Break! Break!” the little girl toddled up to him, her feet carrying her as fast as they could in the snow, causing her to nearly topple over in her oversized coat. “I—” she panted, “I found something for you!”

She held up the bouquet of unevenly picked flowers like a trophy of war.

“Mother said you’re supposed to put flowers on people’s graves.” Sharon explained once she’d caught her breath, “I don’t really know what that means, but I made sure to pick the prettiest ones I could find.”

He blinked at her, taking them in an almost ginger way. It took him a moment to notice the red bloom hiding, slightly wilted, amongst the white.

“Do…Do you like them?” she asked, drawing circles in the snow with her boot.

He tried to smile, “Yes. Thank you, Sharon.”

Reim caught up with his friend, then gasped when he saw the makeshift bouquet.

“Sharon! You shouldn’t have picked those! I was just reading somewhere; the red variety is very rare!”

“You have nothing better to do then read about flowers?” she put her hands on her hips, “Why not pick up a book about something exciting,” she flourished with her hands, “something that will actually strengthen your mind… like a romance novel!”

“Shelly told you you’re not ready to read those!”

As the children squabbled—(he tried not to smirk at their fight…he’d slipped her that romance novel)—Break carried the bundle to said graves.

He pieced out the group, setting a few blooms on each, until only the red one was left.

As he let it drift onto the last stone, he murmured, “Merry Christmas, Emily.”

*****

Break strolled through the frosty Pandora garden. Reim had left his notebook back here—(…either that or someone hid it from him)—and he had commissioned (more like drilled) everyone in a nearby radius to help him look for it.

The garden was mostly barren at this time, though there were a few flowers that bloomed in winter. In particular, white blooms lined the pathway near the ground. He thought nothing of them until he rounded the corner to find a bit of a disaster on the pathway:

Petals were strewn about the stones, the stem in fractured pieces, like flower had offended someone, and this was their revenge.

Break knelt down and picked what was left of the bloom, guessing exactly who had decided to take whatever frustrations he had out on the innocent flower—(he made a mental note enhance those frustrations later).

“Oh, there you are Break!” Sharon ran up to him, hugging Reim’s notebook to her chest, “I found—Oh! What’s this?” She knelt down, observing the crime. “Who would do such a thing?”

“I think a rat may have gotten in here.”

She frowned, standing back up. “That’s too bad, I would have liked to put it in a vase. I think I remember someone telling me the red ones are very rare variety. It’s pretty... It kind of reminds me of your eye.”

He tried to laugh it off, crushing what was left of the flower and standing, joining her to return Reim’s property, thinking all the while it probably reminded Vincent of his eye too.

*****

“What is it, Sharon?” Reim asked.

She had stopped, before proceeded to running off to a nearby patch of flowers.

He couldn’t recall their name, but when he caught up to her, he saw that they were white flowers, blending in to the surrounding snow. Sharon knelt down before them and plucked one.

The one in her hand, however, was red.

“It’s been a long time since I saw a red one of these,” she said softly, twisting it in her finger.

“Yes,” he leaned over her shoulder, trying to get a better look at it, “I believe they’re quite rare.”

She proceeded to add this red flower to one of the bouquets she was carrying.

“My apologies for the detour,” she mentioned properly as he helped her back up.

They finished the rest of their journey, stopping before the graves. She knelt down and set one down at each respectively, removing the red flower and carefully placing it on top of the headstone.

His wife tried to smile as she said, “Merry Christmas, Mother. Merry Christmas, Break.”

11 notes · View notes