#let candy cane have its day in the sun

[miraclewoozi]

[ 05:55 ] - c.hs

pair: vernon x fem!reader.  w/c: 2k content: pwp/smut. (MINORS DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT). married au. christmas drabble. warnings: swearing. bad jokes/festive innuendoes throughout. smut tags UTC.  notes: yes this is several days late. no i am not taking questions.  notes 2.0: at the time of writing i am stuck in a very grim post-xmas limbo (see: entirely too full of cheese and also regret), however i remain down horrendous for this loser so here we are. enjoy. <3

smut tags: spooning -> forking. fingering, nipple play, talk of spicy dreams incl. a blowjob. piv sex. breeding kink (see: hills i will die on). creampie! cockwarming. it’s all very domestic. barely proof read. please let me know if i have forgotten anything.

Soft lips against the shell of your ear accompany you on your return to the land of the living, several hours earlier than you’d ideally like to be awake and definitely long before the sun decides to make its own face known. Your room is dark and the air is bitterly cold, even wrapped up under your bedsheets, even tangled in the arms of your husband. 

But you don’t need to be able to feel your toes, nor see six feet in front of you to know exactly why you’ve been woken up this early. All you need to be able to do is hear, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with your ears at this ungodly hour. 

“Morning,” Hansol murmurs huskily when your hands place themselves over his, low on your stomach beneath your sleep shirt. “Happy Christmas, baby.”

“Happy Christmas,” you say back, smiling serenely, your brain still fogged with the last wisps of your retreating slumber. The tone of his voice alone is a dead giveaway to what he wants, but you decide to play with him a little first anyway and feign innocence. Lazy mornings like this where neither of you are in a rush to get straight out of bed are a little bit of a treat, so who are you to not indulge him? “Why are you awake?”

It’s no secret that your partner likes to sleep in whenever gets the chance, but with a toddler in the room down the hall and a demanding job that has him leaving home before sunrise, most days, that’s something of a rarity now. He answers you silently, pressing his hips into your backside and you feel him — all of him — thick and hard and warm against the flesh of your ass. Ah. Just as expected. A warm chuckle escapes you and you move to turn over in his arms, but his strong hold traps you in place and you just wiggle back against him instead.

He barely stifles a groan and, still laughing, you roll your eyes.

“S’that a candy cane in your pocket?” You ask, feeling him shuffle down a fraction and rut against the seam of your thighs over and over, quiet grunts betraying the pleasure he tries to conceal. Close enough to feel your core’s heat, yet separated enough from it to only feel more frustrated. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

Hansol laughs despite himself into the smooth skin of your neck, shaking his head. He slides one of his hands up from your stomach to your chest, his warm fingers finding and dragging around one of your nipples with practiced accuracy. 

“You can find out,” he says, feeling goosebumps raise on your skin as the bud hardens under his touch. “If you want.”

“Why don’t you tell me what got you all worked up, first?” You ask. 

Morning wood is one thing, but to make him initiate all this? It must’ve been something really special. He proves you right as he pinches at your nipple, his other hand dipping below the waistband of your pyjama pants, his blunt nails dragging down your belly. You bite your lips to prevent yourself whining. 

So sue you. It’s been a while. 

“Had a dream about you,” Hansol says, peppering kisses down the side of your neck. You arch your back, simultaneously pressing your ass against his clothed cock again and your chest harder against his hand. “You were all dressed up for me. In this pretty little red outfit — you know the… sexy Christmas ones? With the white fur along the skirt?”

You nod, dropping your hand down to where his fingers are stroking, mercilessly slowly, against the cotton of your panties. To where he’s giving you hardly anything. On purpose. You shunt his wrist down a little, feeling him smirk into your skin. Finally though, he starts to thumb over your clit and you gasp appreciatively at the relief. “Oh yeah? And what was I doing?”

“It’s just funny you mentioned candy canes,” he tells you, rubbing at you a little faster. “You were suckin’ on me like I was one.”

You groan a little at his description, feeling your cheeks heat up. Arguably, this shouldn’t be sexy at all, but his rough morning voice and the way his skillful hands are working you up to a soaked, wriggling mess already has you flustered. You’re convinced nobody else in the world could turn a line that corny into auditory foreplay.

Leave it to you to marry the world’s biggest dork.

“All the way back into your throat,” he goes on, finally now slipping past the barrier of your underwear. He dips between your folds, dragging through your arousal before he moves his sickened finger back to your clit. “Dressed so naughty, but I’d have put you on the nice list for sure.”

“Enough with the damn—,” you snort, but your amusement dies and you clench your jaw as he starts to play with your other tit instead. You have to be quiet; you can’t afford for this to end before either of you manage to get off. Not now. But it’s so difficult when he knows your body better than he does his own. “You know she’ll be awake any-… oh.”

“Then get these off,” he whispers. He opens his palm fully then, pushing your thighs apart and pressing just the tips of two of his fingers against your hole. All the while, he fights to try and push your pyjama pants down with his other hand. 

He fails, naturally, but you come to his rescue and slide them down over your hips for him. He joins you again in an effort to kick everything all the way off though, sliding one leg between yours and stamping a little impatiently at your sleepwear with his foot until they’re bunched up at the end of your bed. His boxer shorts, meanwhile, don’t even make it to his knees; as soon as he can pull himself free of their confines, he does, stroking along his length as you open your thighs for him. 

He presses his lips against the curve of your shoulder while he settles into position behind you. Then, it’s just moments before you feel his head dragging through your slick in place of his fingers. 

“Okay?” he asks, lining up with your entrance and pushing forward just enough that you feel the familiar stretch of his intrusion.

“Please,” you nod, grabbing the sheets in an attempt to anchor yourself, to hush the moans he always draws out of you. Hansol slides into your cunt slowly, pressing until his cock is buried all the way inside you, until his hips rest completely against your ass. Your whole body shivers at the feeling. 

He barely moves for a little while, letting himself get used to the sensation of your walls hugging him for the first time in… weeks? Months, even? Too long, is the only real answer. His hand lays over your hip as you relax it and your thighs come back together, making you squeeze a little tighter around him. He fills you up so perfectly, too. So much that you feel warmth creeping to each of your extremities already. So much you can’t keep your mouth closed no matter how hard you try. 

“Missed you,” you sigh, laying your hand on top of his, threading your fingers through the spaces between his own. He brushes his thumb over the side of your hand soothingly. “Missed this.”

“Me too,” he agrees, slowly starting to turn those cute accidental jerks of his hips into real thrusts. But he doesn’t move quickly. Not at all: quite the opposite, even; he fucks into you slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch of him on every single stroke. 

It continues on much the same, but you’re not sure how long for: kissing your shoulders, your neck, the back of your hand when he lifts it up to his lips, breathing hot and heavy on your slowly warming skin. He murmurs sweet little praises. Rolls into you, dragging the tip of his cock against the sweet spot inside once he finds the angle that makes you hiccup your next breaths. He loves you, he makes love to you: quietly and intimately, and you’re so lost in this rarely seen, sweet, needy side to your husband that you barely realise you’re inching closer to your high until he’s the one to tell you you are. 

“Close?” he asks, with a new rough edge to his voice that has nothing to do with the sleep his fantasies woke you both from. It’s not a question, despite the little lift he says the word with. He knows what it feels like. He knows you. 

“Mhm,” you nod, swallowing back another whine as his hand dips between your legs again. “F-… yeah. Just like that—”

“I know, sweetheart,” he hums. “God, m’so lucky to have you. Feels so good.”

Your brain floods with static and it’s a miracle you even hear what he says next. He’s a man of few words (though one of many grunts) in the bedroom, but when Hansol starts getting overwhelmed in his pleasure, he babbles more than anyone you’ve ever met. You do hear him, though. Loud and clear. 

“Gonna put another one in you,” he says, hushed but still undoubtedly desperate. “Wanna give you another baby— oh, you’re gonna look so pretty. Can I? Please—?”

And if his fingertips rubbing tight circles against your puffy clit, or his cock spearing into you with unsteady, shaky movements, or his throaty moans of your name hushed by the skin of your back weren’t enough to get you there? This is. You squeeze your eyes shut and cry around your fist as it hits, as ecstasy pulses through you in waves that never seem to end. 

“Yes,” you gasp in the midst of it all, as he keeps asking — no, keeps begging. “Please, ‘Sol—”

“Fuck,” he groans, then, letting his own high wash over him and he starts to spill ribbons of white into your hot pussy. “You feel so fucking-… ah—”

He squeaks the words out. Right into your ear, fanning hot breaths down your now slightly sweaty neck. Even when he’s spent and stops rocking into your hips, he keeps rambling. “Thank you, shit, thank you—”

You don’t hear him swear much anymore. Not since you had your first baby; the suddenness of it makes you giggle, and the resulting clamp of your walls around his twitching length makes him hiss as he comes down. But he doesn’t pull out of you, even when he starts to soften. You realise after a few seconds what he’s doing, though.  He’s keeping you plugged full of his cum; he’s not going to let any of it go to waste. (You both know it’s starting to dribble out of you down the sides of his length anyway, mixed with your own wetness. Neither of you are too worried about that right now.)

He meant it, then. All of it. Your stomach twists in delight as he taps your waist and you look back at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Make me a promise?” he asks, sweaty forehead pressed into your shoulder, still trying to catch his breath. 

“Anything.”

“Let’s never leave it that long again,” Hansol whines. You can’t help but flutter around him again, this time at the mere thought of him being so desperate to fuck you more often. He lets out a slightly pained laugh, overstimulated.

“I promise,” you agree, feeling all of a sudden like your bones are made of lead. You could fall back asleep like this, quite happily. 

But, you realise with a sigh, someone didn’t take care of the milk and cookies on the kitchen counter before they crawled into bed last night. That’s about to become your problem.

“Good,” he nods. “We’re gonna do this every day ‘til you have another one, okay? Twice. And extra on weekends.”

“Mhm, sure we are.” You laugh, finally now feeling him pull out of you with a kiss to your temple. (Twice a day is his upper limit, and both of you know that. But it doesn’t hurt to play along.) “In that case, I’ll save your special gift for later.”

tysm for reading!!! likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are, as always, super appreciated.<3

#vernon smut #choi hansol smut #vernon chwe smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #kpop smut #vernon x reader #j writes. #* #timestamps. #WELP good and bye 😭

[fluffshisuga]

A Festive Outing (Xavier x Reader)

Hello again it's me, I'm back, Ik hold your applause. Anyway, here's a fluffy Xavier x reader i made.

Warnings: None, there's no mention of the reader's gender, its all just fluff. Tooth rotting. It's *Checks Word* 2676 words of just fluff. See what i do for you guys?

     A small break from classes was always needed, especially if you went to Nevermore. There was never a dull day in that school, and the town next door wasn’t very welcoming to its fellow students. The idea of a time away from both Nevermore and Jericho was a dream in many of their minds, but when Xavier went up to you holding up two tickets to a winter festival, it was as if you had fallen asleep. How Xavier managed to get his hands of those tickets, you didn’t ask, too excited to go somewhere new and to do it with one of your closest friends. You had quickly set up to your room, putting on your warmest jacket and boots, and grabbing some cash to take with you. You met Xavier near the gates of the school, bundled up in a scarf and thick jacket. You talked the whole way there, while it was mainly you rambling about what you wanted to see while you were there, Xavier kept an eye on your surroundings, knowing that the news stated that snow would be coming in later that night.

      Colourful lights greeted you as you got closer. Small flashes of red, blue, green, and gold light up the ground before you and you start to walk faster to the gate. “Xavier, hurry up! We’re right there!” You shouted, skipping a bit into the air as you turned to your friend. Xavier watched you carefully as he hurried to catch up to you, huffing in response as he finally reached your side. “We have all day for this, Y/N. If you’re not careful we wont even be here ten minutes before you have to go to the hospital for something dumb like a twisted ankle from slipping on ice.” He stated, placing a hand onto your back to keep you steady. Your cheeks grew red as you thought about the idea of slipping, already getting embarrassed over something that hadn’t even happened yet. “Would you catch me, though?” You asked. Xavier stopped and turned to you, his hair falling slightly over his face, “Catch you?” You nodded in response. “Yeah. Catch me if I fell?” You raised an eyebrow as you looked up at Xavier, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. Xavier only shrugged. “Maybe, if you didn’t run off so fast maybe I’d be close enough to catch you.” Another huff left your lips as you rubbed your hands together.

      Xavier led you to the ticket booth, where he exchanged the tickets and took you by the hand to lead you into the park. He watched as your eyes sparkled as you scanned the area around you, the brilliant lights and decorations already bright like stars in the setting sun.  A giant tree in the very center of the festival was adorned with hundreds of lights, all giving off their own shine. He watched your lips quiver as you rubbed your hands together again, and how your nose was turning into a bright red. You looked up at him, a smile growing as you took note of how the lights illuminated his skin and made him glow.

      A small sneeze ruins the moment. You squeaked with each sneeze, and once the small war was over you shook your head, “sorry.” Xavier shook his head in response and took his scarf off, wrapping it carefully around your neck, playfully allowing parts of it to cover your face in the process. You could only huff as you tried to fix yourself, while Xavier only stood there, a small smile on his face as he watched you struggle. “Well, if you’re gonna just let me fight this, can you lead me to a bench please? I can’t see. “You asked, holding a hand out to grab his sleeve. A chuckle was all you got back as he took your hand, instantly warming it up in his grasp. He led you carefully to a bench decorated with small lights and candy canes and knelt in front of you. “I’ll be right back,” was all he said before he disappeared, leaving you to continue to unravel yourself.

       A few moments later Xavier returns, two cups in his hands and a smile on his face. You could see the steam rise from the cups as he got closer and felt yourself shiver in anticipation. “Hot chocolate?” He asked, sitting next to you and handing you a cup. You nodded and happily accepted the drink, bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. It burned your tongue, but you kept a straight face as you noticed Xavier watching you, a smirk on his lips as he saw the slight wince. “Thank you, just what I needed.” You played it off and took a few more sips as the cold air cooled it down quickly. Xavier nodded in response and took sips of his own drink, looking around at the many sights that you could see. “Come on,” he says, getting up and holding out his hand. You titled your head slightly as you took his hand, a silent question evident. “Let’s go look at the lights.” He said, keeping a hold on your hand as you walked down lit up paths full of little displays of lights. You watched as the lights made it seem like the pictures they made were moving, Reindeer taking off for flight, lights made to look like snowflakes raining down of a snowy setting where snowmen were waving at guests. A giant candy cane adorned with lights loomed over the two of you as the lights switched from red to white.

      You made it to the giant tree in the center, with its lights shining brightly as you got close. “Wow!” was all you could breathe out as you stared in amazement. “Look how beautiful it is!” You exclaim, squeezing Xavier’s hand and looking up at him. The lights painted your face in colour. It was like he was staring at one of his own paintings, only he didn’t need to use his powers to make this one move. He felt a smile grow as he watched you marvel at the sight before you, taking in every detail and making a mental note to paint this very image when he got back. He didn’t even bother to look at the lights or tree; he felt that your smile was the warmest thing in the world, and that your eyes were brighter than the star at the very top of the tree before him. He watched as your eyes glided to look at every detail, eyes changing colour with each new light they landed on. A brush of a thumb over your knuckles made your cheeks turn even more red as you moved your head to look at Xavier, lips parted and pink from the cold.

      Before you could even say anything, though, a small snowflake drifted between the two of you, landing on your nose and quickly melting. You both smile as you look up to the sky, watching as more tiny flakes drifted down and around you. With the snow beginning to fall, the festival became a wonderland. You dragged Xavier to a big gingerbread house, standing before it as the snow came down faster and landing in your hair. “Xavier, look! Gingerbread men!” You laughed, pointing to the framework adorned with orange lights. You turned to see if he was paying attention, but he was nowhere to be found.

      You spun around, searching the area around you to find the tall boy, only to be hit in the back of the head with what felt like a bunch of snow. Turning, you locked eyes with Xavier, who had already started to make another snowball to throw at you. Shrieking, you took cover behind a gingerbread man, quickly gathering up snow of your own to fight back with. Another hit, just missing you due to the gingerbread man. You took the opportunity to throw a snowball, making a direct hit to Xavier’s chest. You laughed in triumph, grabbing another and making your way closer. You sneak around behind him, hoping to catch him off guard, and as you’re just feet away, he turns. Snow hits you in the face and you find yourself tackled to the ground. You try to wiggle free, but Xavier put his whole weight on you, holding you still. You try to brush the snow out of your face, but to no avail.

      Eventually Xavier helps you get the snow off, although most of it had already melted onto your skin, a smile on his face as he saw your red nose and cheeks finally. “That wasn’t fair, and you know it!” You laughed, still trying to wiggle out from under him. “I know.” Was all he said in response as he kept you pinned to the ground, taking in your features as the snowflakes continued to fall onto you. A small shiver told him to get off, and he helped you to your feet as you shuddered. “Now I’m even colder,” you scowled, rubbing your arms for warmth. Xavier took this chance to wrap his arms around you, embracing you to warm you up. He rubbed your back and messed with your hair as you buried your face into his chest, desperate to get warm. You pulled away, looking up at Xavier, “as much as I love our hugs, I’m still freezing, and you are too.” Xavier shook his head, taking your hand once again and walking towards a building, “always the observant one, huh?”

      You found yourself in Santa’s workshop. Small children moved past you as you ventured in, the warm air instantly warming you up. You turned your head to look around, eyes landing on what could only be Santa in a big red chair. “Oh my God, Xavier, look!” You shouted, squeezing his hand and directing him in the direction of Santa. “No, no way!” Xavier knew what you meant when you pointed towards the Santa, a camera pointing at the chair and a line of little children ready to tell him what they wanted for Christmas. You huffed in response. “Xavier, we’re getting a picture with Santa.” Xavier continued to shake his head as he dragged you away, hoping to distract you with the trinkets that were on the shelves instead.

      It worked, by the way, as you were trying on different headbands. You even managed to convince Xavier to wear one, a pair of antlers with small lights and bells attached to it, you thought it suited him. You allowed him to pick a headband for you as well, choosing another set of antlers with lights and bells, adorned with little snowflake charms. With your headbands, you moved to pay, only to stop in your tracks as your eyes landed on a basket of reindeer plushies. You dragged Xavier with you as you picked one up, its soft plush fur like clouds in your hands. You held it up for Xavier to touch, and he hesitates for a moment before giving in to your smile and petting the little reindeer.

      “Xavier, we need these in our lives, I can’t live without this now.” You exclaimed, picking up two of the reindeer and holding them in your arms. “I’m sure you can live without one, but why are you holding two?” He asks, looking at the little animals. You drop one into his hands, “because you need one, too! We can be parents! Look we already have antlers on!” You motion to his head, and back down to the plush antlers on the reindeer. Xavier sighed; a slight blush adorned his cheeks. “Are you saying you want to become parents,” you nodded, “and adopt these,” He holds up the reindeer, “with me?”. It was your turn to blush as you realized what you had said. You stuttered out a reply, “uh, yes?” With a “say no more” look, Xavier grabs the reindeer and the antlers, and beelines to the counter. You hurried behind him, grabbing your wallet to help pay for the trinkets, only for it to be taken out of your hand and placed into your pocket again by Xavier. He didn’t give you a second to argue back as he handed the cash to the cashier and grabbed your items and walked over to a corner to make sure you had everything. “Xavier, I wanted to help pay!” You exclaimed, but he shushed you as he placed your antlers back onto your head and his back onto his own. He then handed you one reindeer and kept the other one in his grasp. “Now we’re a reindeer family.”

      Your eyes lit up as he said that, and without a word you ran and hugged Xavier, secretly slipping about twenty dollars into his pocket as you did so. “You know what this means?” You asked, looking up at him. Xavier shook his head, but he had an idea as to what you were going to say. “We need to take a family picture with Santa!” You smiled, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the line. He could only sigh, knowing that there was no way of talking you out of it. Your hands shook in excitement as the line grew shorter, causing Xavier to intertwine your fingers together to keep you in place. When it was your turn, you each sat on either side of Santa. You managed to convince Xavier to hold up his reindeer, and in the corner of his eye he saw you wear a bright smile, one he couldn’t help but to mimic as the camera flashed. You jumped off and quickly grabbed Xavier, walking over to the photographer, and handing them the money to pay for two copies of the photo taken. “Now we have proof!’ You said happily, taking Xavier’s hand again and leaving the building.

      The two of you continue to walk around for a bit, enjoying the music, lights, and overall joy that the festival was giving you. But, as the time got later, the air became colder, and Xavier could feel your fingers become colder every minute. “I think we should be heading back, now.” He stated, looking down at you as you frowned. “But why, let’s just stay for a little while longer!” You pleaded. Xavier held up your hand, looking at how red your fingertips were getting. “You’re freezing, you don’t want to lose your fingers, do you?” Your frown deepened. “Can’t you just kiss it and make it better?” You joked, wiggling your fingers. Xavier sighed, and, to your surprise, kissed the tips of your fingers. You felt your cheeks turn deep red as you watched, unable to look away. “Better?” Xavier asked, and you quickly nodded. “Oh, yeah, loads. Uh, we can go now I guess?” You stuttered. Xavier smiled and took your hand again, pulling you closer as you walked out the gates and back to Nevermore.

      After Xavier dropped you off at your dorm, with an exchange of hugs and a quick kiss on his cheek from you, Xavier walked back to his dorm. In his hands he held his antlers, her newly adopted son that you both would be parenting, and the picture of the two of you with Santa. He placed the reindeer onto his bed and made his way over to his desk. Placing the antlers onto the desk, he sat down and took out his sketchbook, placing the photo next to it as he began sketching what he saw today. In a matter of minutes, the page was filled with images of you, different expressions that you made as during the night, and at the center, a full body of you standing by the tree, wide eyes and a smile. With a wave of his hand, the pictures began to move, reenacting the events of that day. With that, he quickly undressed and got ready for bed, falling asleep with a smile on his face.

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[amazingdvils]

Long Awaited Reunion.

Excitement and nervousness thrummed through her in equal measure, keeping her from being able to sit still for more than a moment or two at a time. Bridget and John were in New Orleans for the week on some sort of fifth or sixth honeymoon type of thing, something that Millie thought to be absolutely pointless. Still, she’d been the one to encourage them to take the trip and had even helped make some suggestions on what they could do while in the city. Even if she viewed it as stupid, it got them out of the house and away from her. Their absence allowed her to make her preparations in peace and avoid annoyingly prying questions in the process.

The new version of the Sleigh House was slightly larger and far more modern in architectural style than its predecessor. Huge windows and an open floor plan allowed for natural light to pour in, banishing any shadows while the sun reigned high in the sky. The front door was decorated with a stained glass window that depicted a snowy landscape, complete with cute little snowmen, which had been something that Millie herself had designed. That window and the barn were the only things that Millie had been allowed to have a say during the resurrection of the old place.

Not that she’d complained too much when it was completed. The place looked nice and not like one of the many boring modern monstrosities that seemed popular in the magazines and on television. With its pastel blue and white exterior, its bright interior, and the ability for her to sit at one of the grand windows with a book on particularly rainy or snowy days, she’d actually kind of fallen in love with the new Sleigh House. The teen could only hope that her father would feel similar.

Millie hummed softly with the classic Christmas music that played from speakers spread throughout the house, a modern addition that she absolutely adored, as she carefully arranged the Christmas themed cookies on the plate. She brushed her hands over her apron, taking half a step back to admire her work. “There! I think I got it! What do you two think?” Her gaze shifted over to the cats that were nearby as she waited for their answer.

Tinsel straightened up and seemed to study the display for a moment before giving a low mew, which the teen took to be approval. Twinkle had gotten distracted with a toy that he’d found and tumbled head over feet, looking confused on how he’d ended up like that. She giggled at him as she moved over to the boiling milk, turning off the eye and turning her attention to making two large cups of hot chocolate. She garnished them both with a candy cane and called it done, all the while straining her ears over the music for anything that sounded like an engine. 

“I can’t wait for you two to meet, Father. He’ll absolutely love you! Although, you can’t tear him to ribbons like you do everyone else.” She gave both cats a stern look as she untied the apron and hung it up. “You have to at least try to like him, okay?” The cats simply stared back at her in response, although Twinkle gently rubbed against her ankles. 

She moved into the living room to glance out of the large windows that overlooked the now paved driveway. Still no sign of the familiar Wraith or its driver. Millie let out a frustrated sigh, practically bouncing with anxiety. It’d been far too long since Victoria McQueen had taken her father from her and now that she knew that he was back and on his way, each moment longer that she had to wait felt like sheer agony. She began to pace, chewing the inside of her cheek. A part of her was frightened that he wouldn’t love her as much as he used to, that her leaving him to face McQueen alone would have killed some part of his love for her. 

It was silly, of course. A child’s fear. But still, it was a fear that she knew that she wouldn’t be able to shake until he told her otherwise. It seemed that, at her core, Millie was still a child simply seeking comfort and approval from her father.

The teen paused in her pacing for a moment as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the living room mirror, hands smoothing over the front of her green velvet dress. Her hair was half pinned up, two curls framing her face with the rest pouring down to her mid-back. Earrings in the shape of gingerbread men dangled from her earlobes, dancing with each movement of her head. She knew that she looked far different than the last time her Father had seen her, older and more mature. 

Her gaze shifted to her furry companions as she held her arms out at her sides slightly, glancing down at the dress and black heeled shoes that she wore. “Do you think I should change again? Perhaps I should wear that red dress that I got for Joseph’s Christmas party this year. It’s got that gold trimming….”

She trailed off as a distant sound hit her ears, eyes widening as the color fled from her face. “Did…did you hear that?” The teen moved to the windows, trying her best to see as far down the driveway as possible. The cats followed, ears pricked and at full attention. They’d heard exactly what she’d heard: the sound of a car drawing closer. 

A shriek of delight was ripped from her lips when she saw the first signs of the Wraith in the distance. She bounced as she watched the Wraith draw closer, trying to wait but eventually giving in and running towards the door. She tore it open and flew across the porch, feet barely touching the ground as she leapt down the steps. He was here! Her father was here and things were beginning to right themselves in her world.

“Father! Father!” Suddenly, she was a small child again, eagerly waiting for him to return to Christmasland after one of his jaunts. She flew across the yard, aiming to throw herself into his arms as soon as he stepped out of the Wraith. Her father was back and he was here and nothing else in this world mattered.

plotted starter for: @wraith-of-christmas-future

#wraith-of-christmas-future #wraithofchristmasfuture #* ✶ 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 // millie manx verse . #* ✶ 𝐀𝐃𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒 // closed starter .

[shallitickleyournerdbutton]

After the heartache of the Volume 8 finale, I would like to return to a happier point in the show and suggest some memes/jokes that I like to think the students at Beacon would have had. More closely inline with the RWBY Chibi-verse, than the actual show - where Nothing Bad Ever Happened.

"Who's child is this?" being used to refer to Ruby - the youngest student at Beacon - when she's left unsupervised and/or doing something odd.

"I'd let Glynda punish/whip me for one corn chip."

Every now and again "Missing - Have you seen this person?" posters for Professor Peach will pop up around campus. No one knows who it is that keeps making them.

Vomit Boy candids being taken and shared any time Jaune is Suffering™️ on some form of transport.

The Great One plush of Pyrrha exists in-universe... and becomes the go-to prize for any stupid competition between the students. There's at least a dozen of these dolls on campus now, owned by various people and won as "spoils of war."

There's a dedicated chalkboard in the combat room for tallying how many times Nora has launched someone into the stratosphere. Notable mentions are listed on the board alongside her of other people who have achieved this feat - including Yang, Yatsuhashi, and Glynda.

(She launched both Port and Oobleck one day when they kept annoying her. Sometimes, their screams can still be heard if you listen closely enough.)

"There's that old guy again..." "Oh, shopkeep? Yea, he's everywhere. Don't think too much about it."

This leads to "Don't think too much about it." becoming something of a slogan for every time anything unusual happens.

"Candy canes, kids! One for Sun Wukong, one for Yang Xiao-Long, ooh four for Coco Adel, you go Coco!"

"I--"

"Andnoneforweissschneebye~"

Team STRQ having something akin to legend status at Beacon, whispered in hushed voices for fear and reverence of their names. There's a war between the students regarding team JNPR as their successors vs. the students who insist JNPR are not anywhere near worthy of such a title.

"How many team CRDLs does it take to beat Pyrrha?"

Blurry fancam-style videos of the Qrow vs. Winter fight out in the courtyard being traded around like baseball cards with other students. Some try and manufacture a "rematch" of this with the materials they've got - trying to get Ruby and Weiss to fight each other. 

That weird sing-song "HellOooOo~" that Yang sometimes does being mimicked by everyone. And I mean everyone.

Any time there's a significant lull in conversations or classes, someone often asks "Why are we here?" which never fails to make everyone in the vicinity groan.

"Ozpin is compensating for something" jokes about his office chair - including at least one popular response being "it's the war crimes", without them knowing just how accurate they actually are.

"On a scale of Ren-Nora, how excited do you want me to be?"

"Ladies Love Lavender" referring to Lisa Lavender having her own in-universe fandom mostly comprised of women. (Lavender being associated with lesbians irl, and I just think this would be funny.)

The sight of Ren just picking up and carrying Nora away from something is so commonplace that other people start doing it to their friends when they Need To Stop.

"Why is Blake's bow so big?" "Because it's full of secrets."

Blake being a closet faunus being such a poorly hidden secret that by the time she finally takes off the bow no one actually even notices. 

The betting pool surrounding exactly what it is in Ozpin's cup - coffee being one of the least popular options, and souls being the top choice.

Using Yatsuhasi as a unit of measurement. 

Photoshopping adorable images of Velvet onto various "cute" animal memes.

Everyone wanting to be spanked by Coco Adel. 

"I'd let Fox blow me up too."

"Why is Weiss' hair so long?" "To reflect the length of her father's crimes."

Everyone mimicking Pyrrha's memetic "I'm sorry!" anytime they apologise for anything. Even going as far to do it while apologising to things that don't require apologies - like inanimate objects.

"Are Port and Oobleck, you know... 💅?"

In fact, just that 💅 being used to refer to a large number of people at Beacon. Actual LGBT students picking this up and using it towards grimm when they're attacked to question the sexuality/homophobia of the grimm targeting them over their peers.

Threatening Neptune with water anytime he flirts with a girl who is clearly Not Interested in him.

No one knowing who, exactly, the other two members of team SSSN are - with wild theories abounding about who they may be. Popular choices include Shopkeep, Zwei, and Professor Peach.

This persists even after their tournament fights where they're shown. Scarlet and Sage are perfectly content with this, and participate.

"Arslan's/Pyrrha's back must be aching from constantly carrying her entire team."

And the respective responses of, "Reese/Nora are alright."

Similar jokes about Glynda also carrying the entire faculty/academy on her back.

"Salutations!"

The war between the "Irondaddy" fanbase, and his haters - who refer to him with various derogatory versions of his name. "Metalpenis", "Coppercock", "Chromeshaft", etc.

Anytime someone is doing something ~questionable~ donning a pair of glasses and/or imitating Oz or Oobleck pushing them back up their nose with accompanying menacing body language. (Kubrick Stare optional.)

Mercury having a foot fetish, courtesy of the people who caught him sniffing shoes at the festival.

"Did <character> just die?" "You know, it was really unclear." any time someone takes some insane damage in a fight and isn't seen for some time afterwards.

Everyone trying to locate and get a pic of the ~mysterious~ fourth member of team CMSN, who has only ever been spotted once - her tournament fight in the first round. Beacon's version of "Where's Wally?"

The Sympathy Fund for Emerald and her one-sided crush on Cinder. "She could honestly do so much better."

People offering themselves up as tribute to spar with Pyrrha/Yang/Coco/Sun just so they can be beaten up by the hottest people on campus.

"I drink milk!" being used as a defensive argument in wildly inappropriate contexts.

Naming grimm really boring names and attempting to keep them as pets. 

The innumerous times Port has allowed a "zoo-break" to happen under his watch and everyone having to assist in recovering his prized subjects.

"Where the fuck are all the fourth years?" "Ozpin's soul collection."

Candid shots of Glynda Suffering™️ being shared similarly to the ones of Vomit Boy.

Ranking people based on their Patience Levels - Pyrrha, Ren, Glynda, Emerald, and Fox being frequent top markers based on the bullshit they put up with from their respective teams.

"Saint Pyrrha" being a common nickname for her, and her neverending niceness towards people who absolutely do not not deserve it.

Weiss' "Hey!" being replicated amongst the student body and slowly growing more and more high-pitched in its replication until it eventually just becomes a shrill noise. Even so, everyone still knows what it means - and Weiss is absolutely unamused by all of this.

In fact, a lot of early!Weiss' comments being mercilessly mocked by everyone - "I'm a victim!" being one of them.

Renowned fear permitting amongst the student body regarding Yang's red eyes meaning Serious Business. Morphs into references of "going full Yang" to mean having rage-fuelled temper tantrums.

"Never miss a beat, never miss a beat" becoming a mantra for focusing on a task. This inspires several remixes of Neon saying it, and again with no one knowing who it is making them.

By all means, feel free to add any more that you all think of! I could use a laugh!

Also, check the notes for additions!

#rwby #rwby vol 8 #ruby rose #weiss schnee #penny polendina #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #lie ren #nora valkyrie #coco adel #velvet scarlatina #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #glynda goodwitch #ozpin #oobleck #professor port #sun wukong #neptune vasilias #professor oobleck #winter schnee #qrow branwen #professor Ozpin #james ironwood

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa

#my writing #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson and the olympians fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fluff

[gumnut-logic]

2035

Scott was six when he met Chuckles.

Of course, he wasn’t named Chuckles at that point. In fact, he didn’t have a name at all when Scott tore the Christmas paper off his face.

He was one present among several and him and his blue eyes were put aside on the small pile of presents in eager anticipation of what the next one might be.

That year, the remote-controlled airplane took pride of place as the most exciting Christmas present of all and the brown bear sat discarded alongside the sweater, two pairs of socks and the puzzle while Scott badgered his father to take him outside to play with his new aircraft despite the freezing temperatures and the howling wind.

Perhaps fortunately for future events, that wind kept it up for another two days before the sun managed to peek out from behind a winter cloud and warm the Kansas farm just enough to not freeze off extremities. So, Scott found himself stuck inside on Christmas Day and the day following.

The puzzle lasted five minutes. The packet said for ages 7-12, but Scott had an analytical mind and the jet fighter formed on the table rather quickly. That done, he was left with either clothes or the bear.

Unfortunately, by this time, his youngest brother, a toddler who touched and explored EVERYTHING, had found it. Johnny had taken a liking to the bear’s goggles and had drooled all over them. The fur surrounding the black plastic was actually soggy and Scott complained loudly to his mother.

“Honey, you shouldn’t have left it within his reach. You know he will grab anything he can. He is too young to understand, but you aren’t, so it is your responsibility. You know Johnny didn’t mean anything by it.”

Scott stomped back into the living room grumped about that for a full five minutes or so, but Mom was right. He knew Johnny was only little.

As if to drive home the point, the little red-haired two-year-old trotted past and beelined for the Christmas tree, grabbed one of the pretty sparkly baubles and attempted to wrench it off its branch.

The whole tree came with it.

“Johnny, no!”

Scott made it there just in time to catch the top of the tree as it fell. Tinsel, baubles and candy canes rained around him. He managed to save his little brother, who landed on his bottom and started crying, but his own head got a good tap by one of the ornaments and it hurt.

After that there was a ruckus as his mother and his father came running in from the kitchen and rescued the both of them.

His Dad righted the tree, while his mom scooped up his wailing brother. Dad knelt down, checked Scott over and gave him a reassuring hug. After all, it wasn’t every day he had a tree land on his head.

But both of his parents thanked him for saving little Johnny and honestly it felt good to help.

After the fuss had died down and his mother had been distracted by Virgil who, according to the yelling down the hallway, had been drawing on a wall, Scott sat down with Johnny and had a talk about who owned the bear.

It was Scott’s.

But Johnny had hugging rights as long as he didn’t drool on it.

His little brother, who was always quite serious, except when he was being mischievous, gazed up at him, total innocence in his turquoise eyes and Scott’s heart did a little squishy thing and melted.

Scott held up the Christmas bear.

It was a pilot bear. The goggles Johnny found so fascinating sat on top of his head, as black as his flight jacket. His fur was the same colour as Scott’s hair and he sported both a blue scarf and blue eyes.

It was smiling at him rather sure of itself.

This bear flew planes. Scott wanted to fly a plane. Daddy flew planes some times.

There was a silver star on the bear’s jacket.

“Look, Johnny, a star.” He pointed to the shape.

Johnny grabbed at the bear. “Star!”

Scott let him have it with something between a grin and a sigh. His little brother hugged the bear and toddled off with it.

Okay, so perhaps he could share him a little.

-o-o-o-

2036

Christmas in the Tracy household was a big family affair. The house itself was a big one. Big enough to house extended family and the bustle and noise that involved.

Scott loved it. Loved everyone being together, the hugs, the jokes, the fact that Uncle Lee always called him ‘Little Jeff’ and told the best stories about planes and rockets. Aunt Val always brought the best Christmas cookies with various aircraft drawn on them with icing. Grandma Taylor had different coloured hair every year and this year was bright blue and included glitter. Grandpa Taylor invented toys for a living so he was always welcome. Though Virgil tended to hoard his attention and Scott wasn’t really sure why because Virgil pulled apart everything Grandpa Taylor gave him anyway.

But the best part of Christmas this year was that Daddy was home.

Daddy spent a lot of time away. Scott understood why, but that didn’t stop him from missing him. Dad had stories much like Uncle Lee and often they starred in each other’s tales, but there was something about his father that Scott just looked up to even more.

It didn’t hurt that Uncle Lee made a point of placing Scott’s father in the spotlight in all his stories.

Dad was an amazing person. A hero.

Dad was also very tall and strong and always had the answers Scott needed. While Mom looked after him and his two little brothers and he loved her very much, Dad was…Dad.

And Scott wanted more than anything to grow up and be just like him.

It certainly didn’t hurt that his father had the same colour hair and everyone said Scott looked a lot like him. Scott bore those comments proudly and made a point of doing his best to emulate what his father might do in any situation.

Scott was going to grow up, join the Air Force and do his father proud.

A clatter in the hallway and Virgil barrelled into the room. Uncle Lee, who had been retelling the Mars landing, stopped mid-word and frowned.

His biggest little brother’s eyes widened as he skidded to a halt and straightened himself up. “Uh, excuse me, Uncle Lee.” A blink, and he looked fit to burst. “Could I please speak to Scott?”

“Sure….squirt.”

That caused Virgil to frown. Scott thought it was funny. Uncle Lee never seemed to be able to remember Virgil’s name.

And besides, Virgil had a thing about being smaller than Scott and didn’t like it being pointed out.

However, Virgil hurried over anyway. “Scotty, can I borrow Chuckles?”

Blink “His name’s not ‘Chuckles’, it’s Chuck.”

“Oh, okay.” Virgil bit his lip. “But can I anyway?”

“Why?”

“Johnny won’t leave me alone.”

“He’ll eat his goggles.”

“Better than him eating my nuts.”

Uncle Lee made an odd sound that dissolved into a cough when Scott and Virgil looked at him.

Scott sighed. “Virgil, it’s Christmas. We’re supposed to share.”

Virgil dragged Scott part way across the room, away from Uncle Lee and lowered his voice.

“I tried, but the kit contains small bits. Mom said Johnny wasn’t allowed to play with small things. She said he was too young.” It was almost hissed under Virgil’s breath. “I don’t want him to get hurt or to get into trouble. Chuckles always distracts him.”

His name wasn’t ‘Chuckles’, it was ‘Chuck’ after Chuck Yeager, the first pilot to break the sound barrier. But Virgil had called the bear ‘Chuckles’ once as a joke, Johnny had picked it up and now it was all about Chuckles. It was annoying.

“Well, give him the nuts and tell him to go eat them somewhere else.”

Virgil stared at him aghast, but then his eyes widened. “Nuts. As in ‘nuts and bolts’, Scott! I’m building the robot Grandpa Taylor brought me. Johnny keeps trying to eat bits of metal.”

Oh.

Uncle Taylor had picked up his tablet, but was now staring at them, a question on his face. “You boys okay?”

Scott nodded. “Yes, Uncle Lee. Virgil just needs some help with his kit. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Blue eyes gauged him, but Scott was more worried about his littlest brother and dragged Virgil out the door.

“Where is Johnny?”

“On the floor outside my room.”

“You didn’t leave the door open, did you?”

“No.”

Scott hurried down the hall. “Why didn’t you call Mom?”

“I tried. Mom is talking to Aunt Val and she sounded sad. I didn’t want to interrupt and I didn’t want Johnny to get into trouble. Chuckles will fix it.”

“His name is not Chuckles!”

Scott rounded the corner and to his horror, Virgil’s door was wide open.

He didn’t bother to acknowledge Virgil’s gasp of horror, but instead barrelled on through the door terrified he would find his little brother choking on the floor.

But Virgil’s desk was empty except for the scattered pieces of his project. A quick glance around the room and Scott quickly found Johnny.

He was no more than a tuft of red hair wrapped around Scott’s pilot bear, half buried in Virgil’s bed covers.

Two wide eyes popped up over the top of those goggles. “Scotty!”

Scott hurried over to the bed. “Johnny, are you okay?”

“Chuckles!” Johnny held up the bear and grinned.

Scott sighed and sat down on the bed next to his littlest brother. His heart was beating fast - he had been so scared.

Virgil stood in the centre of his room staring at Johnny, his lip trembling. It was obvious he realised what could have happened when he left to get help.

Tears welled in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Scotty. I thought he couldn’t get in. I didn’t want him to get hurt.”

“Virg, he’s okay.” The fright in Virgil’s eyes had the eldest hurrying off the bed from one brother to another. “C’mon, Johnny’s fine. He went and got Chuckles, didn’t you, Johnny?”

The three-year-old’s eyes peered up at Virgil registering his distress and soaking it in like a sponge. His grin vanished and his brow crumpled. “Virgil?” Johnny clambered out of the bed and scampered over to his next eldest brother. “Chuckles? Chuckles make it better?” He offered Virgil the bear.

Virgil stared at Chuckles for a moment before reaching out and taking the fluffy toy. He poked at it gently before hugging it to his chest.

John threw himself at his brother with a huge hug almost knocking Virgil over. Scott reached out and steadied him before adding his own arm to the mix and hugging both his brothers at once. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Scott had to scrub snot off Chuckles’ ear later that night.

-o-o-o-

Christmas Eve was family relaxing time before the busy of the next day. Mom, who had been in the kitchen with Onaha since just after breakfast, called a halt to everything at six in the evening and they sat down for a light buffet of a meal. Every family member donated time or a dish which was mostly warm finger foods like pie and things on sticks.

Scott always looked forward to dessert on Christmas Eve because there were all sorts of interesting things to be had. Aunt Val’s Christmas cookies was one of them.

He stood staring at the different planes so artistically drawn on each of them. They were good enough to be recognisable and none of that generic kiddy stuff kids’ books tried to throw at him. Some were historical, some more modern.

“Trying to decide which plane to eat this year, honey?” Grandma Tracy crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. Her long blonde hair flopped over his shoulder as she leant in to kiss him on the cheek. “Merry Christmas, Scotty.”

“Merry Christmas, Grandma.” But he was still frowning at the cookies. “I can’t see Dad’s plane.”

“Your dad has flown several of those.”

“Yeah, but I want the Sparrowhawk Anderson ZX3.”

Grandma snorted. “Then you’ll have to chase up your father. I saw him nab it earlier.”

Scott turned to his grandmother. “Really?”

“Really.” And it was his father’s deep, smiling voice as Scott was suddenly scooped up in strong laughing arms. “C’mon, ‘Little Jeff’, I’ve saved you your favourite cookie.”

Scott giggled and squirmed, but ultimately clung to his dad, resting his head on his shoulder for just a moment as he was carried across the room to his father’s chair and plomped down on his lap as the man sat down. The longed-for cookie was produced and Scott grabbed it. “Thanks, Dad.”

A big hand on his back, another on his knee, Scott was held close.

“So, what have you and your brothers been up to this week?”

Scott stared at the cookie with the grey, blue and red jet iced on top. “Virgil, did a good drawing of a plane. He didn’t get the tail quite right, but I helped him with that. Johnny learnt some new words.” He couldn’t hold back any longer and bit into the cookie.

It was the best.

Dad snorted. “I heard. I suspected it was you who taught Johnny to say ‘extra-orbital’.”

Scott grinned, his mouth full of biscuit crumbs.

“Swallow before you talk, son.” But his father was smirking.

Scott downed the remains of the cookie, caught between enjoying it and the opportunity to sit and talk with his dad. “He knows all the planets, too.”

“Really?” His father frowned. “He’s only three years old, Scotty.”

Scott sat a bit straighter. I taught him all the names and showed him Mars where you and Uncle Lee went.”

The smile that appeared on his dad’s face only encouraged him. “Virgil drew him pictures of each of them and we stuck them on the wall in his room.”

“That was very kind of the two of you.”

“It made Johnny happy.” Scott didn’t want to mention that Johnny was sometimes sad and always serious. “I want to help him.”

“It sounds like you are doing an excellent job.”

“I’m the eldest.” And Scott knew what Dad was going to say.

“Yes, you are, and that means you have to look after your little brothers. They look up to you and they are your responsibility.”

Scott stared up at those serious grey eyes and for just a second Dad looked like Johnny. “Yes, Dad. I will, I promise.”

His father’s big hand patted his back. “I know you will.”

Scott smiled.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #there will be more to this #at some point #maybe #why can't I write everything I want to write? #nuttyfic reblog #wishing everyone a wonderful festive season #hugs you lots

[seokstrivia]

And So It Begins | jhs

✽ Summary: You thought you had missed your chance, but you’re just an idiot and Hoseok is bad at communicating 

Or, Hoseok lets you know he’s single

✽ Teacher AU | word count: 6.1k

✽ Jung Hoseok x Reader: fluff, angst, friends to lovers, implicated cheating, but no cheating, pining, slow burn, hoseok is soft, namjoon is your brother and jungkook is a child with taehyung, including a lot of frustration

A/N i havent wrote in ages, but i hope this one is as enjoyable as it was when writing it! please let me know what you all think and thank you for reading<3

The sun was bright as it shone through the orange-coloured leaves. It was warmer than usual, even though the air was still crisp. Your classroom was brightly lit by the natural light seeping through the wide-ranging windows, accompanied by the sound of children playing outside.

A sigh parted your lips as you continued to mark the tests you had handed out that morning. The complaints and whines from your students were still buzzing in your ears making you smile. You loved your students; they were always so full of life and eager to learn.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” a familiar voice drew you out of your trance.

Hoseok. Jung Hoseok. A colleague— a fellow teacher you had been working with for almost three years. He was sweet, always knew what he was doing and was always so helpful.  

“I am in a good mood, thank you,” you answered with a cheeky smile.

He returned the smile with a fond gaze in his eyes, talking to you always cheered him up. Just seeing you seemed to lighten his day, and you would’ve thought or felt the same if he didn’t have a girlfriend.

It was your own fault; you missed the chance to go on a date with him because you were sick and busy grading papers. However, what made it worse was that you couldn’t even hate the girl he was with because she was so sweet to everyone.

Two-faced as fuck, but you had yet to witness it.

“Do you want to have lunch with me?” He asked, shyly.

Another smile made its way to your lips as your eyes made contact with his. A red hue accommodated his cheeks while he waited for a response. It was easy to say yes to him, easy to give in and have lunch as friends and nothing more. But when he was with the woman he was with, then it wasn’t that easy or simple even.

“I’ll have to get back to you. I think Mr Park and I are having a meeting,” you told him.

The way the smile fell from his lips made you feel so guilty. You weren’t lying but it wasn’t the truth either, Mr Park, better known as Jimin, wanted to meet you after school not during lunch.

“I’m sorry,” you added before he could leave.

Hoseok seemed to avoid you after asking you to lunch, Jimin didn’t seem too pleased with you lying to him. It seemed like he told Hoseok the plan was to meet after school hours.

It was your own fault for lying and beating around the bush. More so, it was childish and immature, you could’ve just said yes like you wanted to and then dealt with his girlfriend later.

Too late now. You sighed.

“Parents evening is coming up,” Namjoon said trying to lighten the dull mood.

He was a single dad to a beautiful girl; he was also your older brother who seemed to know every little thing about you.

“Did Yerin remind you?” You smiled.

Namjoon shook his head in full offence, “I remembered by myself,” he berated like a small child. “I have a good memory.”

You chuckled at the scowl on his face making him smile in return. The atmosphere did lighten up thanks to your brother, and the sour memory of Hoseok avoiding you was quickly forgotten about as the night went on.

“So… has she been a good girl?” He asked quietly.

~

The coffee on your desk was getting cold, but that was the last of your worries. One of the students in your class was beginning to slack in terms of homework.

You weren’t one to tell children off for not doing their allocated work at home, especially when you never did yours as a child. However, it was worrying when the smartest kid in class was falling behind.

Hence why, when the end of the day bell rang, you were quick to call him over before he could leave. There was a sad look in his eyes and you instantly knew something was wrong.

The talk with your student went on longer than you anticipated, but when he told you how he felt and what was going on, you didn’t have it in you to tell him to stop talking.

He trusted you.

“Is it ok if I call your dad and speak to him?” You asked, carefully.

Jungkook slowly nodded his head, his eyes were brighter as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, miss!” He beamed as he left the classroom.

A sigh of relief parted your lips as you watched him run towards his dad. The clouds were grey and dull, but that didn’t seem to faze the two standing outside, and when it started raining, the smiles on their faces only seemed to grow wider.

When Namjoon called you that night to see how you were doing, you were more than happy to tell him you were doing great.

After that, things seemed to be going well until you ran into Hoseok. He was holding two small boxes of art materials and was out of breath from running down the flight of stairs.

It was awkward but at the same time it wasn’t, just because you didn’t speak to each other anymore, didn’t mean you were now nothing but strangers.

At the end of the day, you were both adults and he was your colleague. One little mistake shouldn’t ruin what you two had, hence why an apology was in order and maybe lunch to make up for things.

“Would you like some help, Hoseok?” You offered with a smile.

Hoseok seemed hesitant at first, but he nodded his head, answering with a short, ‘yes, please.’ You took the box on top before following him to his classroom, it was now or never.

After placing the box on his desk, you turned around to face him. There was still a friendly smile on your lips, but he could tell you had something to say.

Hoseok was different from your other friends, he was sweeter than honey and brighter than the sun. He was careful with his words and actions, more so, he was loyal.

“I’m sorry for lying to you. I hope I can make it up to you by… maybe… buying you lunch?” You offered.

The way his face lit up at your words caused your heart to jump to your throat. This would’ve been so much easier if you didn’t have feelings for him.

“I’d love that, y/n,” he beamed.

You returned the smile before telling him to text you a day and time. That night, you went home with a light heart and skip in your step.

“Auntie, are you ever going to find a boyfriend?” Your niece asked you.

Namjoon choked on his chicken, eyes wide in surprise, he never thought his daughter would ask such a question. But you didn’t seem surprised, instead, you laughed in response and sent her a wink.

He wasn’t sure what that meant, but Yerin seemed to like the answer since she winked in return.

Namjoon sighed, girls were a mystery.

“Does Yerin know something I don’t?” your brother asked while washing the dishes.

You retired your chin on your hand while you watched him. He was bound to drop a plate or glass soon, it just meant you would need to finish off the dishes and clean his mess.

“I’m not going to drop anything tonight,” he declared while turning his head around.

There was a frown on his face as he glared at you, and It reminded you of the times your mum would tell you off or the times she would shout at Namjoon for breaking something.

“Do you remember when mum would get us in trouble for silly things, like laughing?” You reminisced.

Namjoon chuckled in return as he nodded his head. Of course, he remembered. While raising his daughter he’d come to learn that he was very much like his mum.

“I got Yerin in trouble for whistling the other night,” he snorted making you laugh.

“Mum would be so proud of you, Namjoon.”

He gazed at you with so much parent-like love, “and you.”

The rest of the night was spent looking through old albums and laughing at embarrassing photos while drinking wine and wishing time would slow down.

~

Winter was right around the corner; nights were colder, and the days were shorter. Now school was the last thing on children’s minds as they spoke about Christmas, and what they wanted from Santa Clause.

You smiled as you listened to your students talk about candy canes and finding the perfect Christmas tree. It reminded you of the times you would go sledging with Namjoon and have snowball fights with Yoongi.

“Miss, what are you doing on Christmas?” Taehyung urged with eagerness.

His question seemed to pique interest in the whole class as they had stopped colouring in. Their eyes were shining under the bright lights as they waited for you to answer his question. Truth be told, you didn’t have an answer. Well, you didn’t have one that would satisfy their minds or excite them further.

“She’s having dinner with me.”

The girls squealed at Hoseok’s’ answer while the boys sniggered to themselves. You playfully shook your head while asking them to quieten down so you could speak to Mr Jung. They were quick to do as they were told, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t try to listen to your conversation or watch on with eager eyes.

“What can I do for you?” You greeted as you approached him.

“I don’t know if you remember, but you offered to buy me lunch,” he stated.

The few giggles heard behind you made you laugh to yourself easing your racing heart. You didn’t think he’d take the proposal since it’d taken him almost a month to get back to you.

“You’re right, I did offer,” you nodded.

“How’s Friday? I know it’s late but—“

“Friday is fine,” you cut him off before he could apologise or give an excuse for why he’d taken so long to get back to you.

His smile was contagious enough to make your class smile. But it wasn’t enough to make you forget about his girlfriend, the one woman you were trying to stay clear of.

It was when you were walking to your car you felt a hand on your shoulder. There was a strong feeling in your gut telling you not to turn around, but you still did.

And there she was.

“Hi Irene, can I help you?” You inquired politely.

She shook her head while slipping her hand into her pocket. Her long eyelashes fluttered over her tinted cheeks as she blinked. She was annoyingly very, very, pretty.

“I know you’re getting lunch with my boyfriend. So, I am only here to remind you that he is taken, and he’s mine,” she told you.

You were slightly taken aback by her strong demeanour, but it was a given that this would occur. You even had nightmares about it.

“I’m not going to steal him from you. He wouldn’t cheat on anyone and I would never do that to anyone,” you replied, trying to remain calm.

There was a smirk on her lips as she flicked her hair over her shoulder and fixed the scarf around her neck.

“As if he would want you anyways.”

The snicker that followed her words, in the process of her turning around and leaving, caused a heavy shiver to shoot up your spine.

You had a bad feeling about this.

~

Namjoon was rambling on about how Yoongi and Jin kept arguing about shoes when your phone buzzed in your pocket. You weren’t shocked to see multiple texts from Jimin but when you saw Hoseok's’ name, you felt yourself stop breathing.

A part of you knew it was a text to cancel plans, you didn’t want to believe it, but you knew. So, when you opened the message to read the text, you weren’t surprised.

However, you were disappointed.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Namjoon urged, softly.

You shook your head in reply and shoved your phone in your pocket. There were two ways to deal with this 1) to become really angry and never talk to Hoseok again, or 2) pretend you’re ok and move on.

He wasn’t single anyways; he was just a friend.

“Nothing, it’s just Jimin and his workload,” you lied while keeping a small smile on your lips so he wouldn’t worry.

Namjoon didn’t believe you, but he didn’t question you further either. If you wanted to talk, you would and he, of all people, knew that.

Still, at this point, option number one seemed to be better than the one you picked. But, at the end of the day, you were an adult with a full-time job.

And it sucked.

“I wish I wasn’t at home sick the day Hoseok asked me to dinner,” you voiced. “We wouldn’t be playing this stupid game and I wouldn’t have missed my chance.”

Namjoon remorsefully shook his head and hauled you in for a hug. He was quick to kiss your forehead and rub your back in comfort.

“If all these thoughts are coming from Jimin’s workload, you better ask him to stop messaging you,” he joked trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work of course, but it did bring a genuine smile to your lips. Hoseok would always be just a friend, and that was something you had to accept.

The very next day you were back at work, and so far, it seemed to be going okay considering you’d yet to come across Hoseok. However, for whatever reason, it seemed like he was avoiding you.

…Which was fine since you didn’t really want to talk to him, even though it was kind of childish…

“Auntie, I forgot my lunch,” a small voice spoke making you smile.

You felt the need to coo at your niece for being so adorable, but that would embarrass her, and then you would never hear the end of it.

“Come here, your dad texted me this morning. I picked up your favourite sandwich and drink at the supermarket before coming to work,” you grinned seeing her eyes shine at the sight of food.

“Thanks, Auntie!”

Yerin was quick to hop into a chair at one of the many desks in the room and eat her lunch. She would chat with you almost after every bite and tell you about her day like she would at home.

It was nice having company… maybe you should ask Jimin to meet you for lunch, it does get a bit lonely sometimes.

“Mr Park said he has a someone special,” Yerin voiced with a mouth full of food. “He said she works here.”

You rolled your eyes at the little girl; she was just as bad as her dad.

“Yerin-ah, you were supposed to eat the sandwich, not destroy it.”

She giggled in response while hopping off her seat, “thank you, auntie! I’ll see you at home time.”

You watched her throw her trash in the bin before running out of the room. It made you feel a little sad to see her leave, but there was nothing you could do about that.

~

“Hey, you,” Jimin beamed when you stepped into his class.

He was marking papers, something you should’ve been doing too, but you didn’t want to sit alone anymore.

“Let’s get dinner,” you proposed just as you stood in front of his desk.

The sun was setting behind Jimin producing golden hues. It made the room look different, more intriguing rather than dull and boring. Jimin stood up and stepped around his desk after reaching for his coat. He must’ve agreed to your suggestion because he was already walking towards the door.

“What are you waiting for?”

His smile made his eyes disappear, and it made you laugh to yourself as you remembered him complaining about how he couldn’t see whenever you made him smile.

Jimin was a good friend, he always would be.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

When you invited Jimin to dinner, you didn’t think he would invite Hoseok and his… girlfriend. It’s not like this was a double date, more so, you just didn’t want to speak to them.

The sun had set long ago, the stars were shining, and the moon long replaced the sun. A sigh parted your lips as you felt cold air seep through your coat. Maybe you could cancel last minute and go home. They would understand since you took care of Yerin a lot when Namjoon worked.

Another sigh left your lips.

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked with concerned eyes.

You smiled at him and nodded your head. He must’ve known you were lying, or you’re just a really bad liar because he was quick to pull you aside.

Why were you so easy to read?

“Is it because I invited Hoseok?” He questioned further.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s really immature but I just— I can’t,” you told him.

What you said didn’t make sense, but Jimin seemed to understand.

“Let’s go somewhere else. Wait here.”

You watched him step towards the couple, watched him take Hoseok aside and tell him he was taking you somewhere else. Hoseok’s smile fell as his gaze met yours, he didn’t question further but you knew he wanted to.

Jimin didn’t say anything when he led you out of the restaurant. He didn’t say anything when he ordered the food. He didn’t say anything when he paid for the bill.

You were thankful that he didn’t pry into your mind, to be honest, you didn’t have an answer yourself. Maybe you were jealous of Irene or maybe you hated yourself for not trying with Hoseok.

It was too late now anyway.

“Thank you for dinner, Jimin,” you beamed. “And for taking me somewhere else.”

He shyly shook his head, eyes small crescents as he smiled widely.

“It’s ok. I’m sorry I invited them without asking you,” he replied sheepishly.

“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

Jimin was sweet and careful with you, his touches were soft and words sincere. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to be in love with him. However, in the end, you really just wanted him to find the perfect person, someone who would love him forever.

“I hope you work things out with Hoseok,” he shrugged, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

You disregarded what he said. Instead, you smiled at him again and kissed his cheek before thanking him once more and letting yourself into your home.

It’s not that you didn’t want to ‘fix’ things, it’s just that you didn’t know what needed fixing. Was it miscommunication? Or were you simply overthinking everything?

Probably the latter.

“Namjoon-ah, I’m home.”

~

“Enjoy your Christmas break, class, and don’t forget to leave out cookies for Santa,” you winked as you dismissed your class.

They happily said goodbye while they trailed out of the room, one by one. You could see Hoseok down the corridor waving bye to his class too. It had been a while since you spoke to him, to be honest… you missed him. A lot.

He made eye contact with you before stepping back into his room. Hoseok looked good in a suit and tie. But he looked better with a smile on his face and you hadn’t seen one in a while.

A deep exhale left your lips as you pulled your phone out of your coat pocket. There were multiple texts from Jimin and a few from Namjoon; as usual.

However, there was also one from Hoseok.

From Jung Hoseok:

— I was wondering if we could talk.

— Maybe over a cup of coffee?

You were nervous. Really nervous.

To Jung Hoseok:

— Make it a hot chocolate and you have a deal.

From Jung Hoseok:

— Done ;)

Sometimes you wondered what it would feel like to belong to someone. Other times, you wondered what it would feel like to belong to Jung Hoseok.

“Thanks for meeting up with me.”

You blinked out of your daze when you heard his voice. It took you a few seconds to realise you’d reached the chosen cafe.

“It’s ok. I really needed a hot chocolate,” you chuckled nervously. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Hoseok seemed nervous, well, more nervous than you. He had a woolly scarf wrapped around his neck while a black coat engulfed his body. It made him appear smaller. Cute.

He didn’t say anything for a few minutes, but he kept his gaze locked on yours. As if he was studying you, memorising your features to secure it in his memory forever.

It was a comfortable silence. Almost.

“I—Well… I wanted to talk about us,” he muttered, eyes dropping to his hands.

You nodded your head, silently prompting him to continue. However, you had a few things to say too.

“It’s just that… We used to be such good friends, and then I asked you out and everything kind of… fell apart? I don’t know,” he sighed in frustration as he thought about it. “I’m sorry if I ruined things, I just, I guess I wish you told me how you felt sooner.”

Now it was your turn to be frustrated, not only because of the obvious miscommunication between you too but also because of how stupid he was. It was almost as if he didn’t know anything.

“You didn’t ruin anything, Hoseok. I explained why I couldn’t meet you that night, I really wanted to, but I was sick,” you told him.

Hoseok seemed even more confused than before, he couldn’t get his head around what you’d just told him. Mainly because he didn’t receive a text from you that night.  

“I didn’t get a text.”

That couldn’t be right. You remember sending a text to him because Namjoon told you to stay home. So, how?

“I really didn’t, y/n. If I did and if I’d known you were sick, I would’ve come to see you,” he added.

“It’s ok, I believe you. I’m just confused.”

He nodded his head in relief and finally smiled at you. Everything seemed to be making sense between you two. The only thing left to figure out was how this miscommunication occurred.

“Me too,” he chuckled breathlessly. “But it’s weird because Irene turned up out of nowhere.”

Your eyes were quick to meet his, to see how he felt about her as if you could. It was strange because he didn’t seem too pleased about the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“Are you two… like… a thing?”

It was a stupid question because everyone who worked at the school knew. But they’d all heard from Irene, that was one person. That was one side of the story, no one had ever heard anything from Hoseok.

More so, your question seemed to throw Hoseok off guard.

“We’ve never been a thing!” He suddenly argued. “Why would we be when everyone knows I like you?”

“I’m sorry! There’s no need to get angry, it’s not like it’s my fault. You never told me how you felt.”

He scoffed in annoyance while rolling his eyes, “y/n, I asked you out on a date! That’s bound to tell you something.”

You’d never seen him angry before. Hoseok didn’t even get angry at his class when they misbehaved.

“I didn’t know, okay. Irene told everyone you two were together,” you muttered under your breath.

Hoseok shook his head in disbelief, you didn’t know if he was angry at you, Irene or himself. Maybe it was your fault for believing someone like Irene. You sighed.

This wasn’t going as well as you thought it was. The guy you liked, liked you back but you were too oblivious to see that and now, now he was leaving.

You wanted to cry. Why was the universe never on your side?

To Joonie:

— Can you pick me up? Please.

From Joonie:

— I’m on my way, love

What a great start to Christmas break…

~

“Y/n, you need to get out of bed,” Namjoon scolded once again when he opened the door to your room.

He had been trying to get you out of bed for two days now, but you weren’t listening. A deep exhale parted his lips when he saw you pull the covers over your head.

This was ridiculous.

“What kind of example are you setting for your niece? This is not how you deal with your problems, now get up before I drag you out of bed.”

You groaned at his words and reluctantly threw the covers off when you heard him walk away.

“At least shut the door, you asshole!”

“Language!” He yelled back making you cringe.

This was not going to be a good Christmas break, and to make it worse, you still wanted to cry.

It was nearing 4pm when you finally dragged yourself out of bed. The moon had already replaced the sun, and a thick white blanket covered the city.

You felt like going back to bed and never waking up until you really needed to. But you opted for your phone instead since Namjoon was extra scary when he was in mom mode.

From Jimin:

— Text me for plans!

From Yoongi:

— I think we need to organise a horror movie night!

— But just us… if you know what I mean ;)

— Jokes… text me!

From Jung Hoseok:

— We need to talk.

From Irene:

— You made Hoseok cheat on me!

— You said you would never do that. Lying Bitch.

Wow, okay.

To Jung Hoseok:

— Screenshot sent.

You didn’t get a reply when you sent the screenshot, not even hours later. To be honest, you tried not to care.

But it was hard not to.

“Good to see you’re finally awake. Come and eat something,” Namjoon shot without giving you a second glance.

At least your brother cared about your well-being.

~

Christmas break was going as well as you expected it to. Most days were spent having coffee with Jimin; small outings with your friend… which he called dates. You didn’t think much of it, friends could have friend dates, right?

But then, then, after one too many coffees, he asked you to be his date to his parents Christmas party. Something about wanting to introduce his favourite person to his family. You didn’t know what it meant—what he meant, but you couldn’t say no.

Namjoon was over the moon when you told him. He said something about finally getting over a long crush and moving on. He was wrong, you weren’t moving on. The last few days had been somewhat like an out of body experience, leaving you confused and annoyed.

You don’t know what you were doing.

“Wear a nice dress for him,” Yerin voiced while she watched you raid your closet.

“I don’t have any.”

She clicked her tongue as she slid off your bed. Yerin was a sweet little girl, but sometimes you believed she was an old soul. The way she spoke or acted only proved your assumption.

“Auntie, wear the dress you were going to wear on your date with Mr Jung.”

You let her move you out of the way and observed her draw out a bag from the back of your closet. It was buried away so you would never need to see it again, not like you had anywhere to wear it anyways…

“Here,” she forced, giving you the bag.

Sometimes Yerin reminded you of your mum.

“Thanks,” you muttered, earning a smile in return.

The dress fit better than you remembered. It looked nice. Who were you kidding? It was perfect… just perfect for the wrong guy. Still, maybe dating Jimin won’t be hard.

You say that while your heart sinks at the sight of Jung Hoseok.

Jimin didn’t tell you Hoseok was invited, he didn’t tell you he would wear a black suit with a tie that somehow matched the colour of your dress, he didn’t tell you he would smile and shine.

More so, he didn’t tell you that Hoseok would avoid you.

There was nothing you could do about that though. If he wanted to avoid you so be it… the whole situation, however, annoyed you more than you thought it would.

“You look beautiful, y/n,” Jimin complimented.

He reached for your hand and interlaced it with his. Your eyes caught Hoseok’s before you turned your attention to your friend.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself,” you teased making him laugh.

“I need to be honest with you,” he sighed with a small smile. “I didn’t invite you to be my date. I invited you because you and Hoseok need to talk and sort out all the misunderstandings.”

This wasn’t the first time Jimin had been so serious, but it was the first time he had been serious with you. More so, he was right.

You really wanted to talk to Hoseok and ask him what his problem was, because who acts this way with the person they like? But then again, you didn’t tell him how you felt, you were too worried about Irene. Someone who meant little to nothing to Hoseok.

The whole thing was really fucking stupid.

“Okay, thanks for being honest, Jimin,” you replied.

He drew you in for a hug before pushing you towards Hoseok, “talk it out and thank me later.”

It was awkward for about five seconds, but then it seemed like things were going to be okay when he smiled at you. Not at Jimin or Jin but you.

There was no exchange of words for the first few seconds, it was obvious a lot had to be said but the two of you didn’t know where to start. First of all, there was the situation with Irene. Second of all, there was the screenshot and then, then there were your feelings.

“We have a lot to talk about,” Hoseok finally addressed.

You nodded your head, “I know.”

He held onto your hand and led you into Jimin’s room. He closed the door before stepping onto the balcony for fresh air. It was stuffy inside, and the air was nice and cool against your skin.

The stars shone brighter than the city lights– the city which seemed to go on forever over the horizon. It made you feel small and incapable. The world was a big place waiting to be explored.

You had a lot going through your mind, but you didn’t know what to say.  

Although it was Hoseok who spoke first. He had his hands in his pocket as he stared at the city ahead.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you. There was a lot to deal with after we spoke, even more after you sent me that screenshot,” he spoke quietly as if afraid to wake the world.

“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

Hoseok turned around to stare at you– properly stare at you. It’d been a while, he regretted not speaking to you sooner. So much went through his mind when Jimin told him you two were meeting up for coffee or lunch.

It annoyed him when Jimin called them ‘dates’, but there was nothing he could do or say… until now.

“Irene won’t be bothering you anymore, I sorted it all out,” he said while gazing into your eyes. “You won’t need to worry about her.”

“Tha–That’s good.”

He nodded his head before dropping his gaze. So far things were going well, so far it seemed like it would go back to normal. But then, then you hadn’t really voiced your mind or told him how you felt.

You didn’t know if it was a good time. He deserved to know, of course, he did. How would you tell him though? Hey, I’ve liked you for so long now? No, that’s embarrassing.

“You don’t need to force things to get better or be okay because I know they will be,” Hoseok voiced as he offered a smile.

It was almost funny how he always seemed to know what to say.

You presented a smile in return as you asked him to dance…

~

Namjoon was as dumbfounded as was your niece. They stared at you with wide eyes and dropped jaws. This wasn’t the reaction you were expecting on Christmas Eve when you told them about your talk with Hoseok.

“You didn’t confess?” Yerin almost screeched. “What kind of romance drama is this?”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “this isn’t a romance drama. It never was.”

“Watch your tone Yerin-ah,” Namjoon added in a stern tone.

Yerin was quick to shut her mouth, she knew not to get her dad angry. However, she also knew when she was right, and exactly what to say; it was a similar trait to your mum.

“I just think auntie should go and confess. Like, now.”

Namjoon stared at his daughter for a few seconds before turning to stare at you, his expression told you everything, and it was hard not to roll your eyes.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you deadpanned. “He’ll be spending time with his family.”

Your brother shrugged his shoulders at you as he drew Yerin onto his lap. She was smart for a seven-year-old it was scary.

“You might never get the chance again,” he told you matter-of-factly. “It’s better to say it than regret it later, isn’t it?”

“I hate when you’re right.”

A lot went through your mind when you texted Hoseok. So much more rushed through your mind while you waited for him next to the Christmas tree. There was no one at the park except you and the fear of him not showing up.

It was nearing midnight. Three more minutes and it would be Christmas. Three more minutes and then you were leaving. He wasn’t going to show up. He wasn’t coming.

“Why are your eyes closed?” Someone asked,

A long exhale, you didn’t know you were holding, escaped your lips while you slowly opened your eyes.

“I was scared you wouldn’t come.”

He smiled his bright smile making you blush.

“That’s silly. We have a lot of missed time to make up for, so here I am,” he winked.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Sure, he was right about all the chances you missed, but did he know you liked him? Surely, not.

However, the smile on his lips and the gaze in his eyes said otherwise. He had to know… if he didn’t before he definitely did now. You asked him to meet you at night, next to a Christmas tree because you had something to tell him.

How obvious could you be?

“Hoseok, I think you already know… but I like you too.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he chuckled. “I already know.”

You laughed in return earning a soft gaze from the man in front. It kind of was like a romantic drama as your niece had said, just one with a little less drama. It was nice especially when Hoseok tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your cheek.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

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[reidecorating]

Like Ivy

Request: “Being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me.” and “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you.” I’m thinking something Christmas-y with Reid - Anon

A/N: I do apologise for procrastinating on getting this out, but I wanted to make sure it wasn’t terrible. Merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, my present to you is the longest fic I have ever written. I had so much fun writing it so I hope you guys enjoy reading it! Happy holidays <3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAUFem!Reader

Word Count: 7.7k

Summary: Best friends yearning & best friends pining - but make it festive. Entails Secret Santa, the classic penny behind the ear and waltzing.

Warnings: Fluff, proceed with caution :)

The Cathedral of Santa Maria. Spencer had finally put his finger on it. The small glass dome encasing a building, with doors small enough to allow entrance to ladybugs who may practice religion, adorned unmistakable timely Italian architecture and ornamented pine trees, all dusted with flitters of snow. For the past week, Spencer had caught sight of the trinket each time he wandered past where it sat, as one of the few other decorations surrounding the name plate displaying in gold Times New Roman ‘DAVID ROSSI’, on the often unoccupied desk. So, he gathered that it must be important. Filing away his final stack of paperwork for the night, a silver paperclip glistening in the artificial light, Spencer made a mental note to ask the man about it the next morning. Standing from his usual office chair slouch, he stretched his limbs, feeling a series of clicks in his back as he regained his posture, only to bend back down in reach of his satchel. He made his way home giving tight lipped smiles of encouragement to the few agents sprinkled about the room, working over time. Haphazardly, he pushed the arrow pointing downwards with a cardigan clad elbow. As if on queue, his phone buzzed to the simultaneous ‘ding’ of the lift. 

I understand you’re nocturnal, but I hope you’ve gotten home by now! If not, text me when you do so, safely :) 

He didn’t realise he was grinning from ear to ear until an aggravated looking bureau member from a floor above, evidently itching to get home, cleared his throat to gain Spencer’s attention. “Sorry,” he grimaced. Noticing the button for the ground floor having already been lit up, Spencer stepped inside and stood as far away, as was possible in the small space, from the rankled looking man and his briefcase. A dimple appeared on his cheek as he remembered you, two years, three months and seventeen days ago - not that he was counting - offering him cherry scented hand sanitiser from a small bottle, and, only after he’d nodded, gently grasping the tips of his fingers to steady his shaking hand as you poured the gelid liquid into his palm. The act was so pure he chose against telling you that while alcohol based hand sanitisers reduce the number of microbes on hands in some situations, they don’t eliminate all types of germs - making soap and water the most effective way to go. Since then, you occupied his thoughts in the same way ivy grew along bricks of long forgotten towers. In abundance, in the most beautiful way. He turned his attention back to the tiny mobile he was holding. 

On my way right now. I have a date with microwaved leftovers at midnight, can’t miss it. Will do. 

The next time his phone buzzed was when he’d dozed off on the way home, using the concave pane of a metro window as a shoulder to lean against. He waited until his feet landed on the uneven pavement of his stop to open it. 

Tomorrow you have a date with a properly cooked meal, at mine. What is it that Hotch always says? That’s an order, not a request. 

Spencer’s heartbeat quickened as he read what you had written, his brain immediately carrying variables in an effort to slow it down by convincing himself that friends make each other feel this way. However, when he counted the rose flush on his cheeks and nose whenever you were around, the looks you shared which said more than words ever could and the way you held each other nearer than the distance between the sky and the ocean where they met at the horizon after close calls and mentally grappling cases, it didn’t quite equate to being just friends. Dwindling leaves clinging to their branches shuddered as scissors of winter wind pruned the trees scattered about. Spencer’s pale hands slid into his coat pockets, hiding from frostbite. On the short walk to his apartment, he admired the twinkling lights on either side of the streets, feeling as if he were a plane which had just landed upon a runway in the night. Candy canes, reindeer and eccentric portrayals of Santa Claus glowed amongst bushes and on porches, making Spencer wish you were there to see them too. It wasn’t rare he found himself wanting to share everything he did with you. Pretty things made him think of you. Eventually reaching the familiar building, tiredly, he followed wreaths and holly all the way to his undecorated apartment door. 

You? Cooking? I’ll bring a fire extinguisher. Home safe. Goodnight, sleep well. 

He kept his promise, despite seeing the time was nearing to one in the morning and being doubtful you were still awake. 

Hilarious :/ and I will, knowing you’re alive. Goodnight Spencer :) 

Spencer coveted for nights when he could tell you goodnight from right beside you, perhaps with his hand draped around your waist while yours tugged at his hair. He wanted to fall asleep to the scent of your skin and whatever soap you’d picked up from the store that week, not the quiet hum of his vintage fan. His microwave beeped, acting as an alarm to return down to earth from the clouds, presenting him with far less than gourmet potatoes. Realising he would take your burnt cooking over this any day, he settled for a sandwich.

 ∗∗∗

“Did you know that snowglobes were invented in France. They were first introduced as ‘water globes’ at the Paris Expedition Fair in 1889, and, to no surprise, the first snow globe actually contained a tiny scaled Eiffel Tower covered in snow,” Spencer lectured, almost putting the two agents who had struggled enough to get out of bed, back to sleep. The days were slow. Annual leave for a majority of the bureau was looming nearer and files kept them busy as the jet gathered dust. “Glad to hear the French contributed something, other than their opprobrium of a language, to this world,” Emily complained, from her desk. “Well, baguettes… Croissants, parachutes… Aspirin-“ Spencer was halted by the unimpressed look on Rossi’s face, as he hovered on the edge of Spencer’s table, a bushy eyebrow raised in vexation. “What’s with all this talk of snowglobes, kid?” The older man squinted at Spencer, craning his neck towards this, the way he did to suspects behind the glass of an interrogation room. “Since you brought it up,” he smiled smugly, swivelling in his chair from one side to another. “What’s the story behind the Santa Maria sitting on your desk?”

“Yeah, the eighties have come and gone, Rossi, isn’t it a bit late for repentance?” Emily let out a sly smile, walking over to also lean against Spencer’s desk with a steaming mug in hand. “It was a gift from my grandmother, handmade, I take it out every Christmas to help get in the festive mood,” Rossi explained. “Also, that was very funny Emily but now… I can’t help but recall what Garcia told me about the time you got a little tipsy and licked peanut butter off J-” 

“No one told me it was National Congregate Around Spencer Reid’s Desk Day today.” The three agents turned their heads in unison to find who the voice belonged to, Spencer’s breath hitching at the sight of you. You stood before them, an upturned magician’s hat in hand, semi-curious as to what the ending of Rossi’s sentence would have been if it weren’t for you interrupting. “Y/N!” Emily waved, flashing a smile. “You’ve taken an interest in magic and didn’t even think to tell me,” Spencer feigned a hurt look. “Spencer, I knew magic wasn’t for me after I did the card trick you taught me, wrong . Six times,”

“It was seven. Plus, the student is never as good as the teacher,” he suppressed a smile. “Or maybe the teacher just isn’t good,” you raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s a little hostile, someone didn’t get enough sleep last night,” Spencer defended himself, putting his hands in the air. His eyes held a glimmer of mischief as if to say ‘we know something that you don’t’ when they met yours. Emily’s jaw dropped. “That… Didn’t sound suggestive at all,” Rossi pursed his lips in concern, looking back and forth between the pair of furiously blushing agents. “Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t,” you winked at Rossi. Basking in the radiance of your laughter washing over him like the sun, Spencer chuckled along. “Anyway, what’s with the hat?” Emily questioned. “This,” you shook it by its brim, “contains the remaining names for this year’s Secret Santa, courtesy of Miss Penelope Garcia. I was just ordered to present it to you all. She calls it being her ‘little elf’ - I call it unpaid manual labour - but pick a name, any name,” you encouraged. You watched as Spencer’s tongue comically poked out as he eagerly concentrated on picking a name, elbow bent at a worrying angle. “I just want to say that every time I get a gift that isn’t alcohol, I’m slightly disappointed,” Emily turned to you as it was her turn to fish for a piece of paper. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you grinned at her. You watched Rossi’s expression as his eyes skimmed the name in his hands. “Oh, and Rossi, yes, there’s a budget,” you called over your shoulder, causing them to laugh as you gave them a wave. Slinking away from the comity of the bullpen, back to Mrs Claus’ lair, you retrieved the only remaining name. You paused in the hallway to double check if you’d read the glittery scrawl correctly. Spencer Reid. It was just your luck. You were prepared to engage in hand to hand combat with Garcia, seeing her office looming ahead. “Penelope. I hate you. I love you,” you kissed her cheek, placing the top hat on her curls, “but I hate you.” She recognised the tone, beaming at the implications. “Thank me later, beautiful!” She called after you as you rushed away to get started on completing the mountains of reports you had been avoiding thus far. 

The day had come to a close, a headache making a home for itself in your head. Scanning the, now, mostly empty room, you caught sight of the back of Spencer’s uncombed head. Double checking that not enough people were around to be reprimanded by HR for misconduct, you inconspicuously made your way over to him snaking your arms around his neck and burrowing your nose in its crook. “Hi,” he chuckled, amused at the sudden affection, his unoccupied hand immediately reaching to grasp one of your wrists. Spencer had followed your strict, but coffee induced, orders earlier that morning telling him not to distract you unless, one, he was dying, or two, something was on fire, because you were determined to finish the numerous write-ups you had left until today. “Hi,” you mumbled into him. “Ready to go home?” You asked sweetly, arms still slung around him, pulling your face away to get a glimpse of his soft features. Your heart stopped for a little while, at the beauty of him. He was breathtaking. You refrained from tracing the small bump of his nose with your own, and settled for admiring the five o’clock shadow presaging a hidden jaw. The part of Spencer that craved domesticity was enchanted by your simple question, the word home resounding in his head, acting as an old film reel for projections of images of the two of you together; leaving work together, going home together. Little did he know that, as if through an unnoticed telepathy, just a few inches away, the same images occupied your own head. Coming home to an empty apartment had become tedious. You allowed yourself to give into your daydreams of returning home to Spencer - with Spencer. Spencer, with his warm eyes and words that drip like syrup from his tongue. You wanted nothing more than to revel in him filling your senses once the cologne from the day had been washed away, and hear him harp on about the history of mattresses, attempting to retain questions to ask him later in your memory bank, as you capitulate to sleep. “As a matter of fact, I finished most of what I had to do last night so I am ready to go… home,” he tested out the word, to which you had assigned a brand new connotation, feeling a flutter in his chest. You quickly rescinded your arms as you peripherally detected a flock of agents returning from what you assumed was an afternoon break. Spencer suddenly missed your body on his. Having already packed your things, feeling accomplished noticing that the pile of folders on your desk had shrunk significantly, you packed Spencer’s things to save him time, aimlessly throwing the strap of his satchel over his head for him once he had ungracefully shoved his arms into a blazer. “Hang on,” you gently pulled at his shoulders to meet your height, carefully fixing his tag and creased collar. The blush on his face, at the feel of your cold fingers brushing the nape of his neck, said everything he didn’t - save a meek, “Thank you.” You smiled at him in return. “Wait,” his eyes widened, “I need this,” he mumbled, reaching into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a large black bag, decorated in gold intricacies. He didn’t explain it, but you knew that if Spencer had something to say, he would come out and say it, just all in good time. “Now are you ready?” You eyed the thing curiously, and glanced back at him. “Let’s go,” he motioned his arms in front of him, with a small nod, letting you lead the way. 

Afternoon rays of sun fought their way through clouds, battling with the winter air to warm the people mingling outside as you made your way towards the crowded station. “Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, intuitively slipping an arm through his when the sun began to disappear altogether. Your cheeks grew warm as you realised your compromising position, feeling your heart rate return to its usual pace once he relaxed into your touch. “Hm?” He turned to look at you, letting his river coloured eyes unabashedly scan your face. “You look like your mind is far away,”

“What’s on my mind is definitely not very far away,” he said, quietly. That glimmer had returned. You noticed that the crease between his brows had disappeared, indicative that whatever thoughts were rattling through his brain, were good ones. You hummed a smile, content with his contentedness. “So… Hand it over,” he extended a palm a second later. “Hand what over?” You asked, genuinely confused. “A penny,” he said as if it was obvious. You blinked up at him, unfazed by the joke, as he bit his lip provokingly. All of a sudden he stopped walking, eyes still on you. “Just… Hold on a moment,” he whispered, squinting at you as he reached a hand towards your cheek. You remained still, thinking that Spencer had finally lost his mind. “Here it is!” He exclaimed, breaking out into a smile as he retrieved a one cent coin from behind your ear. “What!? You’re kidding! That was brilliant,” you beamed at him, eyes wide in bewilderment. “For a second there I thought you had gone crazy,” you teased. “Magic does that to people,” he nodded, satisfied with how impressed you seemed. “Ah, but alas, you gave me a very ambiguous answer, so I,” you snatched the penny from his fingers, “am entitled to a refund.” Spencer shook his head with a soft smile. “You might need to use that for the bus if we miss the next train,” he informed, hurriedly examining the watch on his upturned wrist. 

No trains were missed, that day, the two of you arriving at your door in time for the six o’clock news. “Here, let me take your coat,” you offered, putting it on the small rack beside the door, placing yours adjacent to it. Spencer relished in the warmth of the place, setting his things down. “So, I’m thinking we get a proper meal in us, and then you can help me decorate this dreary place,” you instructed. He wanted to let you know that anywhere you are is far from being dreary, but something told him that was far too sappy, so he settled for a simple, “Sounds good.” He took in the familiar apartment, its walls embellished in old paintings snagged from secondhand stores and books scattered about on almost every horizontal surface, in a certain disorderliness that said, yes it’s messy, but everything has its place. “Also, I hope you know that you’re only leaving in the morning so make yourself at home.” It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the two of you; you falling asleep at his apartment out of feebleness, him at yours, and more often than not, it involved discarded games of Scrabble as the two of you settled for debating the rules instead of actually playing. Lately, he’d been craving it more and more - and so had you. Spencer would never say no to that offer, but he was taken aback. “But I didn’t pack- I don’t have-“

“Eidetic memory is slipping I see,” you giggled at his flustered state. “I told you, I kept finding toothbrushes, sweaters and socks here every time you left, so I made a drawer full of your things, since you practically live here anyway,”

“An entire drawer? I didn’t think I was missing a whole lot,” he responded, nose tinted red. “I have to water my plants quickly, before I put dinner on, but feel free to shower,” you said, still laughing quietly. “Let me help cook, first. You need someone to disassemble the smoke alarm,” he raised an eyebrow at you. One ‘KISS THE COOK’ apron and half an hour of seasoning a chicken, spilling sweet potatoes and bumping elbows later, the two of you stood back from the counter, you boasting to Spencer about how nothing had turned to ashes, and him pointing out that the oven hadn’t been turned on yet. Soon after, you put the oven on high, humming an indistinguishable carol over the shower that could be heard running from the next room. A warm, tingling feeling overcame you.

By the time you had showered, Spencer stood serving - a well timed and flawlessly cooked - chicken, wearing mitts matching the baggy flannel pyjamas keeping him warm on top of the open oven. “Smells good,” you complimented, slightly startling Spencer. He stood at the small wooden dining table, mouth agape at the sight of you. He was sure his heart was a puddle. “I like your sweater,” he praised. You glanced down slightly confused, shortly realising that your sweater, with its much too floppy sleeves, reaching a little way above your knees, was actually his. “Oh, I’ll wash it and give it back to you at some point,” you said shyly. “I was wondering where it went, but don’t worry about it, the colour looks nicer on you than it does on me,”

“Nonsense, you know that’s not true.” Soon enough, you found yourselves digging in - not before you expressed your gratitude towards food that wasn’t charred for the first time in months. You sat across from each other, your reindeer sock clad feet occasionally tapping his beneath the table. Spencer’s heart was full, marvelling at you from where he sat, wishing this could be something he could experience forever, much preferring it over a stale sandwich. You watched him intently through your eyelashes, chin resting on your interlaced hands while he taught you about how the thalidomide scandal emerging from Germany led to safer drugs in the pharmaceutical industry, the lecture prompted by an article he’d read recently. It continued into getting the dishes cleaned up, his rambling only being interrupted by your intermittent questions which incited further tangents, or requests to pass the tea towel. His voice was a ruffled silken sheet, on which you would like to lay for eternity. Admittedly, you found it difficult to focus on retaining any more information than the odd date, due to being too focused on the way his lips moved to form every word he said, hopelessly enamoured by the overly enthusiastic expressions he made to match the tone of what he was saying. Eventually, he wandered towards the living room as you stacked away the final plate, butterflies still spurring in your stomach from when his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you.

“Spencer Reid effortlessly navigating technology, Christmas miracles really do exist, huh?” 

“Actually, I just remembered watching you choose music, instead of paying attention to the road, that one time you drove me to work,”

“I was most definitely paying attention,” you huffed out a laugh, slightly bashful at the thought of him remembering small things you do. “You hit the kerb four times! That was the day I vowed to never let you transport me anywhere,”

“I see your argument, and I raise you with the counter argument: the kerb hit me.” Sitting with his back against the couch, legs sprawled out over the rug beneath your coffee table, Spencer couldn’t hold back his laughter. After watching you disappear into the kitchen, he busied himself with reading the holiday edition of Reader’s Digest laying on the table. He recounted you telling him that you had accidentally  drunkenly subscribed to it, and never bothered to cancel the subscription, the first time you’d caught him reading an issue. You emerged a short while later, with drinks in both hands. “Bonjour monsieur, on tonight’s menu, we can either open this Merlot or, drink Capri-suns like the sophisticated adults we are. Your pick,” you said, hiding the juice pouches behind your back and noticeably waving the bottle of wine in front of you. “I have a feeling it isn’t my pick,” he let out a laugh, “so just fill a glass with enough Merlot for two,” you were on your way to get a glass before he had the chance to finish. “Your wish is my command!” You called. Spencer put down his magazine once he saw you rushing towards him with a large glass of wine in hand. “Of course you opt for Christmas Jazz over Mariah Carey,” you teased, hearing the music he’d queued floating from the withering speaker in the corner of the living room. It was the kind of music that would play in the diner of an expensive hotel, you noted. “I can change it if you’d like?” He began reaching for your phone, when you halted him by grasping his arm. “No, it’s good, I like your taste.” Spencer grinned sheepishly, taking the glass from your hand as you sat down beside him. 

Hours of conversation and decking the halls with tinsel later, with wine flushed cheeks and twinkling eyes you moved the furniture to cater for your very own dance floor. Carefully, Spencer placed a hand below your ribs, touching you like new glassware, lacing the other with yours. Your unfettered hand, replaced the weight of the world as it rested on his shoulder. You recognised the look on his face as he settled into the close proximity, it was the same look that painted yours when you admired him whilst he failed to notice. The soft glow of a lamp illuminated the man you held, making an indistinct halo of golden light appear above his unkempt hair. “I apologise for any damage caused to your feet,” you giggled, struggling to find a rhythm. “Here, follow my lead,” he looked down at your feet. “The Waltz?” Dazzled, you raised an eyebrow, a few seconds after recognising the box-like steps in unison. Spencer tried to focus on anything but your lips, glistening in the dull light, so close to his. “Mhm, I’m not exactly the most co-ordinated-”

“You don’t say?”

“That’s tough talk for someone I’ve seen fall up a flight of stairs,”

“That sounds made up, but as you were saying,” you laughed into his chest. “It’s simple because its a repeating pattern. Did you know that name of the dance comes from the German word waltzen, which means to turn, or to glide? Some say the dance itself comes from the folk music and dances of west Austria, but others debate that it’s a variation of the Volta, from the 16th century,”

“Interesting, makes sense to debate that though. I’m pretty sure volta means ‘a turning’ in Italian - although that’s mostly in reference to the turn of a new thought or idea in sonnets… I’m thinking of Shakespeare,” you chimed in. “Sonnet one-hundred and thirty being a classic example of that,”

“Of course you would know that,” you shook your head in awe, cheeks hurting from grinning too wide. The incandescence of the smile that hadn’t left his face all day was mesmerising, the honeyed expression tied together with the dimples on his cheeks and creases around his eyes. “What would you like for Christmas?” He mumbled, lifting a moment of peaceful silence. “If you pulled my name out of the hat today you’re going to have to be a lot more subtle than that,”

“Unfortunately not,” he pouted. “Don’t tell anyone I told you, but I have Rossi,” he whispered the words into your ear, neglecting that no one else was around to hear. “What do you get a man who already has everything money can buy?”

“A new wife,” you joked, causing him to scoff. He studied your visage as you pondered his earlier question, still swaying to the soft piano sounds. “Honestly Spencer, being able to see you smile, being in your vicinity, just that is enough for me,” you finally answered, tilting your head up at him. Spencer thought his knees would give way. He thought his knees would give way, and he would hit the ground with enough impact to implode through the earth’s crust. In reality, he only stumbled over his feet momentarily, regaining his composure before you noticed him slowly becoming unhinged. “If that’s the case, I wish I’d picked your name,” he managed to utter, breathlessly.

The music which continued to play was drowned out by the sound of steady breathing, you were too caught up in each other to pay attention to the world. Wordless, you looked into his eyes, his actions parallel to yours. “You look beautiful right now,” he sighed. “Of course, you always look beautiful but, you know.” You shook your head, refraining from averting your eyes from his. He wished you believed it, promising himself to never abstain from letting you know until you saw yourself the way he did. “It’s funny you say that, because I was thinking the same thing. About you of course,” you rushed out the last part, realising the potential for miscommunication. “I love seeing you happy,”

“Well, as long as you stick around, you’ll be seeing a lot of that,” he spoke lowly, on the verge of telling you about all the things he felt for you. You hadn’t realised, but you had unconsciously moved closer together. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, lighting a fire inside your lungs, as he took yours away. Spencer saw all of the signs; the signs that this was not usual for a friendship. Maybe, if it weren’t for his defeated battle with fear, and doubt, he would have told you by now that he had fallen desperately for you. Spencer knew there wasn’t a drop of insincerity behind any of the kind words you spoke into him, he understood that you were his person, but he found it difficult enough to comprehend that someone could feel this strongly for someone. So, the implausible idea that someone could feel this way about him, was one he was not even prepared to entertain. “Y/N? I, um,” he tried, wearily. You gave him a soft smile, both tired arms laced behind his neck now as his rested on your waist. He dropped his sword. Once again losing the fight against his unreasonable insecurities, changing his mind at the last second. “I need to give you something,” his demeanour changed and he vanished from your line of vision. Your heart sank, hopes of hearing him say that the love you had for him was requited, fallen. Before you got too lost in your head, he emerged from the doorway with the same black bag you’d been inquisitive of. “Uh, here, this is for, uh, you,” he tucked his lip beneath his teeth. “Spencer…” you trailed off as he handed it to you. You sat yourself on the carpet, patting the spot next to you for him to join. “I thought I should give it to you now, since I’ll be in Vegas for Christmas,” 

“Spencer, you really didn’t have to-“

“Go on, open it,” he ignored your humility. You gave him a look as you opened it - it being replaced with a look of elation as you realised what it was. In your hands, you held a scarf, long enough to hit the floor, striped in all your favourite tones. “I had to ask my mom for help with the tassels, but-“

“You took the time to make this? For me?” You exclaimed. Without thought, you draped it around his neck to tug him closer to you, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, thank you so much,” you lauded, refusing to let go of him. “I think it was last winter, we were walking back to our hotel in Minnesota during a case, and you insisted that the both of us use my scarf to keep us warm, because you didn’t have one,”

“Ah, I remember that, except it ended up being one of the top ten worst disasters in U.S. history due to the height difference, and we both ended up falling face-first into the snow,” you giggled, recalling the way you had used up most of the hotel’s hot water afterwards. “Exactly,” he matched your expression, “seeing as you still haven’t bought one for yourself, even though we lose eighty percent of our body heat through our head and neck, I thought I would take matters into my own hands,”

“Well, I love it. You’ll have to tell your mother I said thank you and that I’m sending my love,” you finally dropped your arms from around him, out of fear of crushing his shoulders. 

Once the zeroes had lined up on the twenty-four clock, Spencer sat where he usually resided on your bed, ardently admiring you as you folded away his gift. “Wait! Spencer close your eyes! Please!” You squeaked, immediately shutting the cupboard doors, realising your unwrapped present for him was hidden within. “Y/N? Is everything alright?” He asked, eyes now sealed shut. “I didn’t want you to see what I’d bought for Secret Santa,” you let out, too exhausted to form a coherent excuse. “We only got those names today - well, yesterday, now - so how did you manage to-”

“Shoot,” you cursed to yourself, knowing his unintentional profiling would lead him to the conclusion sooner or later. Spencer’s eyes slowly opened. “Okay, let’s say if, hypothetically, I had intended on giving you something for Christmas anyway, but then drawn your name today, would you, hypothetically, be able to act surprised when you receive it from me at work?”

“Hypothetically speaking, I would?” He squinted at you, stifling laughter. Your hair was slightly messy and your drowsy eyes were visible to Spencer even without his contacts in. He thought you just looked so adorable, wanting nothing more than to hold you and share your warmth. “Anyway, come to bed,” he beckoned, his voice gravelly, giving way for the day. Obliging, you shuffled towards your bed before sliding your cold feet beneath the covers. Spencer turned to face you, resting his cheek on an upturned palm. “Sorry for ruining the surprise,” you whispered, tucking the duvet under your chin, bright eyes looking through him. “You didn’t ruin anything,” he assured, treasuring the sight before him. There had been a shift in the air between the two of you. Spencer held the wine accountable, but he could sense that you felt it too, a level of intimacy that you had not quite reached during previous nights like this. “Come closer, I need to exploit your body heat while I can.” Spencer listened to your instruction, inching nearer to you, his heart rate so high he was sure you could feel it when you nuzzled your head into his chest. “Goodnight,” you felt his chest rumble. “Hang on, the night isn’t over yet,” you mumbled, “talk to me,”

“About?” He asked, amused by your grit to avoid sleep. “Anything you want,” you yawned. “You’re sleepy,” he stated, coaxing you into getting some shut eye. When you tilted your head up and continued to blink at him, he gave in. “Have you ever wondered why a lot of our most vulnerable conversations happen  at night?” You nodded in response. “Well, a study done by the University of Colorado a couple of years ago concluded that natural light from the sun actually regulates your circadian rhythm, or internal biological clock, which standardises your sleep cycle. According to their study, this sleep cycle coincides with sunrise and sunset, meaning that if you regularly expose yourself to sunlight, your body enhances its internal clock to align more closely with the natural light cycle,” 

“Based on that,” you contended, words slightly jumbled, “our circadian rhythm would vary between seasons, right? And yours would be different, since you’re a literal vampire, to say... someone who surfs down in Florida because of disparity in sun exposure?”

“Precisely,” he raised his eyebrows, “I’m impressed you’re still paying attention, you look like you’re already dreaming.” Spencer nudged your forehead gently with his own, causing you to breath out a laugh. “Alright, so how does all of that relate to being more vulnerable at night?”

“It relates in the sense that the rise and fall of the sun reflects in our physiological, as well as emotional behaviour. During the day, we’re a lot more active, and at night, we become more relaxed and receptive. Hence, since your mind is at ease, all the thoughts and emotions that might have felt jumbled up during the day become clear, making them a whole lot easier to express,”

“Mhm,” you managed, eyelids growing heavy. “Do you… have anything to say now,” you whispered drowsily, eyes now closed, “that you can’t say during the day?” Spencer couldn’t handle it anymore. He was already so fond of you but as his hand settled to rest around your waist, feeling your warmness, he believed his ribs could collapse from the way he felt inside. As you dozed off, gradually, winter became less cold in his arms and dreamscapes of his tea leaf eyes. “And, she’s asleep,” he whispered, minutes after silence, into your hair, “but to answer your question, yes,” his lips planted a chaste kiss on your forehead, “I love you.” Of course, unbeknownst to him, you weren’t asleep just yet.

∗∗∗

A couple of days went by, and as more time went on, the less certain you became as to whether Spencer had really even said the words, wondering if the whole thing was just a fatigue driven hallucination your lovesick mind had conjured up. Waking up beside him the next morning however, tangled in a warm cocoon of cotton and limbs, had left you feeling giddy, smiling like a fool with heart shaped eyes as he attempted to feed you the waffles he’d made - which the two of you gulped down far too quickly than sanctioned, to avoid being late for work. When you didn’t succeed, and the clock had beaten you by ten minutes, you both wrestled past evocative looks from the rest of the team for the remainder of the day, JJ even singing something about the two of you ‘sitting in a tree’ . The soft, shared, smiles and light brushes of fingertips when he handed you coffee in the mornings left you wanting to concede; let him know that you would walk on burning coal for him, the more logical side of you reminding you that professing your devotion to him over an open case file consisting of a double homicide, three days before Christmas, was far from ideal. Spencer wanted the kind of love only the poets could express. This had become evident the evening you took him to a midnight screening of ‘Un homme et Une Femme’. You recalled leaning into him to translate, catching sight of his welling eyes glimmer in the dim lit theatre. Believing his love should be celebrated, you decided to withhold the unsurfaced feelings a little while longer.

Later that week, you all gathered around the BAU tree, a small framed picture of Derek decidedly hanging from one of its upper branches after Garcia had to be heavily persuaded, and eventually bribed, to not place it at the top, arguing “But he’s my star.” Spencer snuck behind you, subtly placing a hand on your back to glide through and place Rossi’s gift under the tree. “I want to let you know that I’ve been practicing my ‘surprised’ face in the mirror,” he discreetly whispered against your neck, making you roll your eyes. “Okay super sleuths, I know we’re all itching to fly away for a break, but hold your reindeer, because we are yet to kick off our annual Secret Santa,” Garcia excitedly exclaimed, shuffling in with two large sparkling bags. “I thought there was a budget?” Rossi quirked. “Yes, sir,” she looked smug, “for you.” The team shared smiles at Rossi’s perplexed look. “So, who wants to start us off?” Garcia chirped. With that, the festivities were under way. You held tight an abnormally large heat sensitive mug, which you were sure would also reveal a promiscuous image once warm - a gift from Emily, who gave herself away by insisting it would help your caffeine dependency - watching as the others tackled ribbon wrapping paper. You threw an impressed look Spencer’s way, that glint of knowing something the universe doesn’t returning to your eyes, when Rossi opened a small portrait of what looked to be a Venetian cathedral, the Santa Maria to be exact. Once the banter and excited chatter had died down, everyone turned to the recipient of the final gift, neatly labelled Spencer Reid, enveloped in brown paper and tied with deep purple ribbon. Penelope looked as if she were about to pass out. Spencer’s shifting eyes landed on JJ as she mouthed a small ‘you’re up’, causing a smile to tug at his lips when he eyed you gazing at him with the soft look he adored. Your eyes lingered on his hands as they swimmingly untied the mauve knot and tore open the paper to reveal a large leather-bound journal. He examined the old looking thing,  trailing his fingers along the convoluted golden details of the artistic interpretation of a moon calendar adorning its umber covers, partially covered by thin leather straps. His mouth was slightly agape, shaking a little at how well you knew him, clumsily catching the matching novelty pen before it slipped out of the wrapping and onto the floor. You had picked it up at a forlorn occult shop after it had caught your eye while looking out of place as it lay surrounded by large crystals. Knowing in an almost divine way that it should belong to Spencer, you had bought it. He couldn’t help but look at you briefly, communicating a silent gratitude. “This is amazing,” he ogled, “I love it.” Your heartbeat was in your throat. He was yet to find out you’d filled the first page for him.

Shouts of Merry Christmas, long hugs and season’s greetings were thrown around the room before, one by one, everyone slowly bade their goodbyes. While helping JJ clear away torn reds and greens of gift wrapping, you caught sight of Spencer, ears and cheeks scarlet, with his nose buried in his new, opened, journal.

“We are asleep until we fall in love," you looked up from Leo Tolstoy’s one thousand page book and recited to me, once. Since you walked into my life, I’ve been wide awake. You know that I’m never far away, but this is for the days you need to let out some of what you hold in, without saying it aloud. 

I love you too, Spencer.

Spencer read and re-read the words until he was sure he could recite them like the Lord’s Prayer. It was commonly Spencer who remembered small details and remembered paltry quotations, but this time, it was you. Sitting in the glow of the afternoon sun, one October, he had been reading War and Peace, and couldn’t help but share the line with you as you sat across from him, chewing through a much smaller number of pages and reading a collection of poetry. The woman he had been so captivated by, admiring from afar that day - and all others, felt the same way he did. In disbelief, he began breathing manually. Making sure he was deciphering the cursive lettering correctly, he scanned the page again. While his eyes were definitely not deceiving him, they remained glued to one word. Awake. The havoc caused in his heart by the train of thought hitting him so brutally, rivalled only Gare Montparnasse. You must’ve heard his confession nights ago. It was the only explanation for the ‘I love you, too’. You most definitely were awake. Profiling tendencies overcame him. With his basic background of graphology, he could make out that the last line had been written in fresher ink than all the others, confirming his hypothesis. For the first time in a while, his mind was quiet, the uncertainties which fought to float in, unable to make their way through as if the thee simple words you’d handed him were a barrier for them. He needed to talk to you.

Walking quickly towards the elevator, an overwhelming wave of anxiety crashed over you. You had subconsciously been avoiding Spencer for most of the evening, second-guessing whether or not you’d heard him correctly, whether he’d even meant the words in the way you’d interpreted, wondering what you would do if this friendship were to ever end. However, a more hopeful side of you contended to quiet those thoughts. He had to feel it too. There was no room in which you hadn’t shared a longing look. The feather touches, and dancing. So badly did you want to believe that he thought this too. A slender arm appeared through the closing elevator doors, tugging you back to reality, causing you to jump before quickly pushing the open button. “Spencer! You could’ve lost an arm!” You yelped. “It’s okay, I have two of them,” he huffed. He avoided your eyes for a moment, before inhaling half of the oxygen in the small lift and turning towards you. “I wanted to say thank you, for this,” he held up the book, “it’s gorgeous, and sort of… exactly what I needed - and not just the book itself but what you wrote… inside it,” he nervously looked at you. “Did you- do you mean what you wrote?” His tone of voice syringed into you a drop of hurt. “Spencer, I never want you to think that I don’t mean it,” your let out in a shaky voice, gently grasping his elbow. You visibly saw his body ease, a smitten smile replacing the lip being chewed at. His throat bobbed as he gulped before he spoke again, heartbeat in his ears. “I want you to know that I’m in love with you, Y/N. I don’t want you the way I want a best friend, I want you in a-” he sighed, clenching and unclenching his fist trying to find the words, “I want you in a way that means I want to fall asleep beside you, and wake up to you the next morning, for as long as the sun rises. I want you. I want you - no, need you, the way the tide needs the moon to rise and fall, I want you-” he swallowed, furrowing his brows at his feet, “I want you, like this.” Hazel eyes fluttering shut was the last thing you saw. Large hands lightly caressed your face, one travelling behind your ear, brushing your neck to delicately tangle in your hair. After years of wondering, you finally knew what his lips felt like on yours. His nose bumped yours lightly as you tasted his soft lips, their slight chap reminding you that winter had kissed them first. Your hands wrapped around his wrists, before one settled on his tilted jaw and another hid in his chestnut hair. He felt warm, everywhere you touched setting electricity through him. Even after you pulled apart, his arms remained on either side of your face, holding you like you were fragile. His breath fanned over your face, as you shivered, the fluttering in your stomach unsubdued. The elevator had long reached the ground floor, causing the two of you to bashfully laugh concurrently. You thought to yourself that Spencer’s crimson flush and wide grin was a sight you would lose sleep to gaze at. “All this time, I’ve been missing out on that,” you teased, watching him shyly bite his lip as he waited for you to say something else. “I’m very glad you said all of that because I’m very much in love with you, Spencer Reid, and, if you’ll let me, I want to love you, the way people love in all the books you’ve lent me,” you told him. At that, he was sure his heart was yours, fearlessly. So, making afternoon plans and debating which train to take, neither of you really caring as long as you were in the other’s company, you finally stepped out of the elevator, oblivious to the mistletoe that was hanging within it, but more than mindful of what was to come. 

#this was almost as long as their elevator ride #me? writing? unheard of #this took so long i don't know if it's even fully edited but we'll see #hope u guys have fun reading it!! #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid oneshot #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #mgg fic #spencer reid x reader #mgg oneshot #cbs criminal minds #gublernation #spencer reid smut #spencer reid self insert #mine: writing

[artaefact]

grinchly, yours.

—wordcount: 15k+

—genre: angst, fluff, bookshop owner!reader, florist!hoseok, bookshop au, christmas au, flower shop au, s2l au

—pairing: jung hoseok x f reader

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: awkward moments, a cemetery scene, mention loss of loved ones, a soft!hobi

—summary: Christmas time is around the corner, everyone is celebrating to their heart’s content, but not you. No, you despise Christmas and the joy it brings. That is, until a friendly florist decides to pay your bookstore a visit.

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write a character with the grinch’s personality and this story has been revolving around my head for some time !! happy reading everyone 💖 

prompt: “carolling” for @btsholidaybingo event & “winter market date” for @kdiarynet winter hearts event !!

© artaefact 2020. All rights reserved. Copying, reposting, translating, and modifying in any platform or by any means is NOT permitted.

You nearly lose it when a snowflake lands on your face — specifically, your eye — for the third time now as you pad along the asphalt road. Releasing a breath, you calm yourself. This should be a regular occurrence for you. Still, you can’t help but scowl at the sight of fake candy canes and decorated fir trees near the streets and shops, and well, basically everywhere.

Once you near your bookshop, another annoyed sigh escapes your lips when you find a group of people singing right in front of the door again. Honestly, your patience is running thin as you have once told them to not sing in front of your bookstore.

Cursing under your breath, you try not to meet anyone’s eye and opt to quickly enter your shop. However, one of the members notices you and waves at you. You recognise him as Jimin — a local baker who likes to stop by your bookstore to look for recipe books.

After responding with a brief nod at him, you unlock your door and rush inside.

It’s not even Christmas yet, so why are these people singing Christmas carols early in the morning already? The sun has barely even risen up!

A relieved sigh escapes your lips when you can’t hear the choir anymore, at least muffled by the door of your bookstore. Moving towards the cashier table, you place your messenger bag underneath it before getting to work.

Carrying boxes of books back and forth from the supply room is the daily norm for you. You find comfort hidden between the shelves while you stack the newly-delivered books neatly into their allocated place. Many would say that it’s a lonely job, especially since you refuse to hire anyone to work in your store. But you don’t. You seldom feel that way.

The soft music from the jukebox is the only thing that keeps the bookshop from falling into complete silence as you work on reshelving and rearranging the books. That is until the bell on top of the front door rings.

“Welcome!” You place the books on the wooden floor, standing up only to see Jimin peering on the aisle you’re in, smiling ear-to-ear.

Sighing internally, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to pop in and say hi.”

You sit back down on the wooden floor and continue to shelf the books. “Didn’t you do that before?”

“You didn’t say a word.” He moves closer and plops down beside you.

You merely shake your head, still focusing on your task. “How many times do I have to tell you not to let those choir people sing in front of my store?”

“Right,” Jimin answers sheepishly. “You see, we are still scouting for another area and—”

“Well then, find it quicker. Why don’t they just sing in front of your bakery?”

“It’s not exactly an ideal spot for singing…”

“And the front of my store is?”

“There’s not much public transport station here—”

You huff in annoyance. “If you don’t have anything else to do besides making excuses, I would appreciate it if you leave. As you can see—” Lifting one of the books in emphasis, “—my hands are full.”

Despite your cold words, Jimin dismisses it quickly. “Well, I’m looking for a book about plants.”

“Botany?” Your brows furrow. “Did baking go wrong?”

He snorts. “As if, but my friend is looking for one. He asked me if I could get one for him.”

“Is there a particular book he’s searching for?”

Jimin hands you a piece of paper.

“Oh, I have to place an order for this one,” you utter. “I’ll send you a text when it has arrived.”

Nodding, Jimin finally stands up and is ready to leave when you call him.

“Oh, and Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“For the last time, take your fellow choir crew somewhere else to sing.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

The box lands on the cashier desk with a thump before you send a message to Jimin, a week later.

[ 2:05 PM ] You: your friend’s book is here

Placing your phone on the table, you peel off the wrapping tape and open the box. The printed white letters of Guide to Gardening contrast against the pine green background of the hardcover as tiny drawn flowers scatter across the edge of the cover.

You read the synopsis curiously, wondering how someone can find garden-work interesting when your phone dings — a text notification from Jimin lights up your phone screen.

[ 2:09 PM ] Jimin: Oh! I’ll tell my friend to pick up the book himself. He should be able to swing by today.

Not bothering to reply to him, you put away the book for safekeeping — leaving Jimin on read, as usual, and get back to check your supplies, making sure everything’s in stock.

An hour or two have passed until someone enters your bookstore. “Excuse me?”

Looking up from the papers, a new customer staring at you. “May I help you?” You ask, standing up from your seat.

“I ordered a book. And my friend, Jimin, told me it has arrived.”

“Oh!” You scramble through your paper-covered desk, reaching for the book. “Are you—” You check the name it was ordered under. “—Hoseok?”

He nods, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“Here you go.” Handing the book to him. “Is this what you were looking for?”

The subtle smile on his face turns into a bright grin as soon as he reads the title. “It is.”

“Great,” you nod. “Do you still want to take a look around, or would that be all?”

Hoseok’s gaze lingers on you, a bit too long for your liking, but he shakes his head regardless. “This would be all for now.”

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”

While you print the receipt, he asks, “Are you a friend of Jimin’s?”

“Acquaintance,” you correct him, handing his receipt.

“I see. May I know your name at least?” He extends his hand.

Blinking at his question, your hand moves before you can think twice about taking his hand in yours. Ignoring the way your hand fits so well in his, you introduce yourself, “Y/N.”

And a bright, bright grin appears on his face, one that you swear can light up the whole bookshop. “Hope we’ll see each other again soon, Y/N. Just recently opened up my shop near the corner of the street.” Then he makes his way out of the store, steps faltering slightly before the entrance, giving the bookstore a once-over and walks out.

The next time you meet Hoseok is when he visits your store in passing. “Hey, Y/N!” He greets you as you place a stack of books on the cashier table from the delivery box earlier.

“Hi, Hoseok...” You do not know what to make of his cheerful demeanour.

“How’s your day?”

You furrow your brows in confusion. Is he seriously asking that for no apparent reason?

“Fine, I guess,” you answer nonetheless as you rub your palms against your jeans. “Just had to clear out the storage and rearrange some shelves.”

“Do you need any help?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh! I’m looking for a book about orchids,” Hoseok explains. “It’s so hard to grow them.”

“Give me a moment, I’ll check the supplies,” you mumble, moving and clicking your mouse to find what he is searching for. Hoseok moves to a nearby aisle, looking through random books while you move to the allocated aisle of the book he wants.

Hoseok is confused for a moment as his attention is set on the little post-its on the shelf. As he takes a closer look, he realises that these are your reviews of the books. He can’t help but chuckle at how enthusiastic your reviews sound.

It’s amusing how you are interested in The Grinch.

Plucking one of the books, he makes his way to you. You are so focused on the books as he stands beside you, then he pokes your shoulder and you jolt. “Oh my—”

Hoseok apologises sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

You clear your throat. “It’s fine. I tend to tune out my surroundings when I’m focused. And, uh, here—” You hold out the book to him. “—is this it?”

Hoseok nods, smiling as he takes the book and follows behind you to the cashier. As you type in the order, he asks, “Do you like this book?” Your movements falter at his sudden question, which he notices. “I saw some stickers you posted beneath the books that seem to be your favourites.”

Cheeks growing warm at his words, you stammer, “Well, I thought it would encourage people to buy and—”

He places one of the books that you recommended on top of the book he was looking for. “I’ll get this one too.”

“But… It’s a children’s book.” You gape.

“I’m not big on reading heavy novels, Y/N. So, I think this is a good start,” he shrugs. “Plus, you recommended five stars for this and your review—”

“Okay!” You cut him off, grasping the book. “I-I get what you mean, but are you sure? You don’t have to—”

“Am I not here as your customer?”

Sighing mentally, you proceed to scan the barcode. “That will be forty-seven dollars.”

Meetings with him are refreshing, as it is odd. Hoseok would come by your bookstore once in a while — once a week or even twice. At first, you thought something was up. Definitely, since he didn’t purchase books on every visit. But what throws you off is that he would come by to drop desserts or even just a quick ‘hi’ when he is busy that day.

You’re sceptical indeed. Was there a bet being made to befriend you? But he wouldn’t have treated you to those sugar-coated doughnuts or hot chocolate if he wants money.

Deep in your own thoughts, you walk along the usual route to your store; hands tucked inside your thick coat, even ignoring the snow that’s covered your beanie.

You’re not used to this; someone just straight-up approaching you, or just enjoying being in your presence with no obligation to do so. Haven’t he heard of the rumours that surround you? In a small town where you live, he must have heard something.

Thoughts drifting back to reality, your eyes twitch as you find those carolling people in front of your store again. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out an annoyed sigh.

How many times should you tell them to scram? And where is Park Jimin?

You scan through the faces of the group, and he was nowhere to be found. Muttering a curse under your breath while ignoring the slight aching in your chest, you stomp towards them.

“Hello,” You plaster on a big fake smile, ceasing their singing at once. “I thought I had told one of your crew — Jimin — that you can’t sing in front of my store. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s not joining us today,” one of the choir members answers, nonchalantly. “We didn’t know that this is a private area. I thought you only own your part of the store.”

The other choir members glance nervously at each other; their reaction an obvious contrast with this chipper, unheeding chatterbox in front of you. Gritting your teeth, you force down the curse words that are on the tip of your tongue back before clearing your throat. “Well, now, you know.” You pin down that girl who opens her loose mouth with your sharp stare. “So, I would appreciate it if you’d leave and never sing in front of my store again.”

She is about to respond when her crewmembers stop her from saying anything further, which is fortunate for her. In minutes, they pack up and finally leave.

Rubbing your temples, you make a mental note to put a sign in front of your store that says no choirs allowed, or any Christmas activities at all. After changing the ‘close’ sign to ‘open’, you place your things on the cashier table. Looking at the old jukebox fondly, you trace the intricate, beautiful designs for a little while before you turn it on. Soft jazz music fills the air instantly, and your heart warms up at that.

Deciding to have a little reading time, you pick a book from your favourite section. However, you falter momentarily when you realise it’s the same book Hoseok bought last week from your post-it recommendation. Sighing, you place the book back and pick another.

Time flies so quickly when you immerse yourself in books. By the time you check your phone, it’s afternoon already. And then the quiet atmosphere shatters when the bell of your bookstore rings.

“Y/N!” His familiar cheerful voice startles you.

“Hoseok…” You’re back again.

“I’m grabbing a bite in Jimin’s bakery, would you like to join?”

“No, I’m—” Your stomach growls loudly as if on cue.

Hoseok laughs at that, “Your stomach says otherwise. C’mon! You shouldn’t stay cooped up in your shop the whole day.”

And you can’t bring yourself to reject his offer again.

“How long have you been running your bookstore?” Hoseok asks as you both make your way towards Jimin’s bakery.

“It’s been... Five years,” you answer hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s quite long! Have you always been interested in books?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ve loved reading since I was a child.”

You didn’t realise how much you had enjoyed conversing with Hoseok until you reached Jimin’s bakery.

That was quick, you thought, at the sight of the pastel pink store.

Stepping into the bakery, Hoseok calls out, “Kookie!”

“Hyung?” The familiar man called ‘Kookie’ greets him after serving a customer with their order.

You wreck your head for his name — you know this guy. Well, have seen him with Jimin most of the time but you didn’t bother to know his name. Or actually, you did, but you forgot.

The only ones you can come up with are “John Cook’ or ‘Jungkook’. It has to be either one of those or else you’d embarrass yourself further.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s nice for you to come by!”

Screw it.

“Nice to see you too, John.”

Kookie lets out a giggle. “You can call me ‘Jungkook’ instead of my last name.”

Then it clicks. Right— it’s Jeon Jungkook. Thank the heavens ‘John’, and ‘Jeon’ sounds similar.

You feign indifference. “Alright, Jungkook.”

“Jimin is out with his girlfriend for hot chocolate, he’ll be back soon.”

As soon as you and Hoseok take a seat, Jungkook hands you both the menu before dealing with other customers.

“So... Are you sure you’re new here?” You break the silence. “Looks to me that you seem to know everyone here already.”

Hoseok chuckles at that. “Not everyone. But Jimin, Jungkook, and I go way back.”

“Ah, I see...” Then you cast your stare to the menu once more. But your attention shifts to the glass door to see Jimin and his girlfriend laughing. Not long after you catch his gaze, however, the warmth dissipates almost instantly. He stalks towards your table at once.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin seethes, eyes boring into yours as you match them equally with your icy ones.

“Ah, Jimin,” Hoseok turns to look at him. “I was grabbing something to eat, and I invited Y/N along and—”

“Y/N is not welcome here,” Jimin seethes.

Hoseok’s eyes widen before it gradually hardens at your defence. “Since when?”

But Jimin’s eyes are on you once more. “Why did you drive the choir crew away again? What did they do to you? They managed to sing a few blocks away from your store!”

“That is bullshit.” You stand up and level his gaze. “They sang in front of my store again, still disturbing the peace in my shop. And I told you to take your choir crew somewhere far to sing.”

Jimin lets out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not what they—”

“Believe whoever you want,” you cut him off, mood darkening. “And since I am not welcome here, I’ll see myself out.” Without another word, you head out of the bakery. Clutching your coat tighter to your frame, the sound of your boots thumps along the cobblestone until another pair of rapid footsteps follow behind you.

“Y/N!” Hoseok calls out, grabbing your arm. “Hey… I—” He catches his breath. “I’m sorry, Jimin is an asshole to you—”

You shake your head. “No, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I—”

“Hoseok.” You turn to him. “Why do you even bother to befriend me?”

His eyes widened at that before he splutters, “B-Because, why not?”

Taking a step closer to him, you consider asking him if there is a bet going on, but decide against it. “I’ll be fine. You go back to Jimin.”

Without another glance, you turn away once more, leaving him in the midst of the cold weather.

Autumn flies away too quickly, you bitterly thought. You find yourself missing the warm colours of the town, where the crunching sound of fallen leaves will always fill the silence when you go to work or go back home. Or, spring sounds good to you too — bright, vivid flowers loitering around as the warm sun kisses your skin.

Not this whole white fiasco. Your mood always dampens when you walk out of the house, only to find the usual bright morning still dark as it takes later for the sun to rise up.

‘Achoo—!’ You let out a sneeze, wrapping the thick blanket around your form tighter. The heater of the store is cranked up to the fullest, yet the winter cold still manages to get you.

Letting out an annoyed ‘tsk’, you continuously flip through the accounting records of your store, eyes scanning the numbers to make sure no mistakes are made. Unable to focus further, you sigh.

Maybe you should do other things before getting back to these numbers.

You let out another sneeze as you trudge to the storage room, huffing in annoyance while you sniffle. Taking out an opened empty box from the shelves, you pack children books into it when your doorbell rings.

“Please wait a moment!” You quickly shove the box to an empty corner before rushing out.

“Umm,” Hoseok stands awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Hi…” He takes a few steps closer. “I’m sorry about yesterday—”

Posture stiffening, you cut him off, “It’s not your fault, nor it was Jimin’s fault. It was my own mistake.”

He tries to argue. “No, it’s—”

“Hoseok, it’s alright.” You reassure him, plastering on a tight smile. “Really.”

“Ah, that’s… Well, these are for you.” He extends a bouquet of orchids.

You stare at him. “W-Why…?”

“I thought it would brighten up your bookstore,” he rambles. “Uh, unless you don’t want it? It’s really fine—”

You take the bouquet from his hold, your smile turning genuine on your lips. “Thank you.”

He grins at that. “Well, I’ve got to go back to the shop. Maybe we can go out for coffee or even lunch whenever you’re free?”

When you nod in response, Hoseok’s expression lights up further. With your numbers exchanged, he waves you goodbye and exits your store. It’s quiet once again, and you merely stand there, still staring at the bright purple hues of the orchids.

Perhaps, it’s still ol’ winter outside, but it feels as though spring blooms within the walls of your bookshop now.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

Hoseok is in a good mood; he whistles some random pop songs as he makes his way back to his shop. “I’m back!” he chirps, scrubbing his snow-covered boots against the ‘welcome’ rug.

“I was beginning to think you have lost your way,” Jungkook comments, eyes focusing at the bouquet in front of him, wrapping it up. “The next customer won’t be here until three and, wait—” He looks around frantically at the scattered flowers on the counter. “Hyung! Where are the orchids?!”

“Huh?” Hoseok feigns innocence. “I thought we had them. You’ve cut their stems right?”

“Yes, but—”

It’s kinda funny to see the usual composed Jungkook, now, panicking. Little did he know, Hoseok had taken the last of the orchids to make a bouquet for you.

“Hyung! We need orchids! The colours don’t match! And—”

Hoseok snorts. “Use the hydrangeas. They fit with whatever bouquet you’re wrapping.”

Jungkook makes a face. “It’s not going to be the same as how I pictured it, Hyung. It has a different meaning too!” However, Hoseok has gone into the changing room to change into his usual working attire. From outside, Jungkook grumbles to himself, “I don’t deserve this treatment. I helped Jimin, and now Hobi hyung too. And for what exactly?”

“So, you won’t stay cooped up in your room until New Years.” Hoseok comments, tying his apron then rolling the sleeve of his shirt till it reaches just before his elbows.

“Okay, but ‘fess up, Hyung—” Jungkook still looks unamused. “What did you do to the orchids? I know you’ve worked hard growing them so you won’t give away those flowers easily.”

“Huh,” Hoseok feigns innocence, grabbing a set of flowers to wrap. “Really? Maybe I did give it away to someone pretty, who knows.” Beautiful, in fact.

“Who?” Then Jungkook’s face turns dumbfounded as he seems to realise something. “Wait, don’t tell me it’s Y/N.”

“Why not Y/N?” Hoseok raises a brow, sparing the younger one a questioning glance.

Jungkook groans. “No, hyung, don’t you know she’s like… Unapproachable? Like even Jimin’s charm does not affect her at all. In fact, she made him angry the other day!

Hoseok mindlessly nods at Jungkook’s rambles. “Yeah, yeah…”

It goes quiet for a moment before Jungkook asks, “So… Did she throw away the flowers at once and kick you out of—”

The image of your bright eyes and soft smile engraves itself into his mind as he works on the bouquet at hand.

“No.” A smile appears on Hoseok’s face. “She loves it actually.” All that time he spent and the hard work of growing those orchids really does pay off.

“What did you say to her? I don’t think she’s the type to accept an apology gift that easily.” Jungkook tilts his head slightly, still questioning.

True. At first, he wanted to give it as an apology gift. However, at your insistence that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but your own, he thought of another reason — to brighten up your cozy bookshop with the vibrant colours of the orchids.

“Well, I thought of other reasons,” Hoseok answers vaguely, finishing the arrangement. And boy, did his heart soar when you accepted his gift afterwards.

“It’s so hard to believe…” Jungkook mumbles, focusing on his own task at hand.

Hoseok sighs. “She’s not what you guys seem to paint her to be. At least, not with me. Does anyone even try to approach her in the first place?”

Jungkook nods. “Jimin hyung did. You know how he is.” Silence falls for a few moments until Jungkook mutters, “I think she’s always grumpy when it’s Christmas season.”

“Why?”

Jungkook answers with a mere shrug. “No one knows. We just avoid her during Christmas.”

With furrowed brows, Hoseok clicks his tongue in disapproval of how people treated you. There must be a reason why you are acting this way. You weren’t a complete grouch with him, and your smile earlier proves that. If it takes hundreds of orchids to make you smile like that again — even when others say you are a grouch and your presence is unpleasant — he would gladly grow them all over again.

Sipping the gingerbread latte, you let out a satisfied hum at the burst of sweet taste on your tongue from the warm beverage. Definitely perfect for cold weather as you sit near the window, mindlessly staring out at the falling snow and the buzzing people beneath.

Hoseok has agreed to meet in the cafe. You are too stubborn to admit that you actually enjoyed his company these past few weeks. But, as soon as he texted you to meet in this cafe, you barely thought twice before agreeing.

Speaking of the devil, he sits across from you with a grin on his face. You snap out of your thoughts when your gaze zeroes in on the bouquet in front of you.

Irises.

“It’s for you.”

Blinking with furrowed brows, your voice comes out unsure. “For me…? But why?”

He lets out a sheepish chuckle, “I just think it suits you. Like those orchids.”

At his words, your heart beats faster. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admit, gaze dropping to the bright yellow flowers, arranged prettily and pleasing to the eye. “But… Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Do you know what irises mean?”

You shake your head, taking the bouquet reluctantly.

“Hope and friendship,” Hoseok beams then raises his own steaming cup of coffee to you. “So, here’s to our friendship!”

Chuckling lightly, you lift your own cup.

“Right, I read the book,” Hoseok starts, earning a raised brow from you. “It’s a whole lot to digest even when it’s merely a children’s book. What makes you like it so much?”

You shrug, eyes averting from his briefly. “I just admire how the Grinch put so much effort to ‘steal’—” You quote with your fingers. “—Christmas. I mean he’s an entertaining character to read about.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “What makes him so?”

“He sticks to his plans and goes through with it. I admire his perseverance despite the hardships he has been through. And I feel the same way about Christmas as he does.”

“Do you not like Christmas?”

“Nope. Don’t like this season at all.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s…” Your eyes are downcast, gaze on your steaming cup of coffee. “It’s a bit overrated, in my personal opinion. This season seems to force people to be happy.”

“Huh…” Hoseok sips his coffee. “I never really thought about it in that way. But I can understand. Is there anything else that makes the book so special?” Curiosity swimming in his eyes. “You mentioned in your review that it’s comforting, but how so?”

Just how on earth can this man be so observant?

You purse your lips, pondering. “Well, it’s comforting to see how the Grinch manages to have a change of—” You falter before shaking your head. “He’s just a great character.”

Hoseok nods, agreeing with you.

Then you change the subject, asking him how he got into gardening and decided to open his flower shop. Conversation flows so easily between the two of you that time flies so quickly.

When you step out of the cafe building with Hoseok, you couldn’t stop smiling as you hold on to the bouquet he gifted in hand. You walk back together, just enjoying each other’s presence. That is until you come across the carolling choir who takes notice of you, or actually, of Hoseok.

“Hobi!” One of them calls out, breaking from the group. Her puppy-like excitement exudes out of her in waves as she draws closer. And then you recognise her as the chipper chatterbox whom you never bother to learn the name of.

Hoseok greets her, “It’s good to see you.”

Then she glances at you, more specifically the bouquet of irises in your hands. “You both went on a date?”

You snort, earning a surprised glance from Hoseok and the girl. “We just got coffee, and Hoseok is nice enough to bring me these lovely flowers as a gift. But, I don’t think it’s any of your business, right?” Lifting a brow, you spare her a questioning stare — recognising that familiar face — as she fails to come up with an answer. “And shouldn’t you get back to your singing activities spreading the Christmas spirit in this public area?” Sarcasm dripping your tone.

Her gaze narrows at you as a flash of recognition crosses her. “Aren’t you the one who sent us away from our first location?”

You nod blatantly. “You were singing in front of my shop. You were disturbing.”

“That was so rude—”

“I did warn you and your group before,” You quip. “Or would you rather I call the police next time?”

Hoseok gapes at your exchange with Chatterbox seemingly at a loss. Lucky for you — well, Chatterbox actually — the tense conversation ceases as another choir member approaches you, this time a lovely-looking elder lady. “Oh, Y/N!”

You blink, expecting her to recognise Hoseok instead since the boy is a social butterfly and probably know half of the townspeople already. “Y-You know me?” Her delicate features are somewhat familiar.

“Well, of course, I do! I volunteer in the or—”

And it clicks. “Oh!” You cut her off loudly. “Oh, nice to meet you!” Hoping the pleading look you send her can stop her from blurting other things besides pleasantries. Fortunately, she gets the message as she smiles knowingly at you before glancing at Hoseok who is utterly quiet as Chatterbox talks his ear off while he mindlessly nods.

“I should get back to my store,” you explain.

The lady smiles warmly, reducing her voice to a whisper, “Hope you come to visit us again this year.”

“I won’t miss it,” you reply with a smile of your own.

Her eyes light up at that. “And Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Have a good day, Miriam.”

And when you finally turn your attention to Hoseok, he’s already looking at you mouthing, You want to go?

You give him a brief nod. He smiles, bidding Chatterbox goodbye. But what nearly sends your heart into overdrive is that he strides to you and grabs your hand as if it’s the only natural thing to do.

“Slow down!” You huff as Hoseok turns briefly to give you a cheeky smile.

“I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of there,” he teases, steps slowing down. Your hand goes limp, but instead of letting go of your hand, Hoseok interlaces his fingers with yours.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there myself,” Hoseok comments. “I thought my ears were going to fall off.”

Letting out a chuckle, you tease, “I thought you were enjoying her company.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “She was mean to you. I don’t like that.”

At his words, you stumble on your steps. If it isn’t for his fast reflexes, you would be face-planting to the ground. “Ah, t-thank you.”

He chuckles, “No problem.”

And you curse your own heart for beating faster at his smile.

“She’s not bad, Jimin.”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin huffs, wiping the table aggressively. “Until she decides to piss you off all the time.”

“What did she do to you?”

“Don’t even get me started.” Jimin clicks his tongue in annoyance. “She literally said to take the choir crew away from her store, and Ellie—”

“Ellie…?” Confusion is written all over Hoseok’s face.

“The girl who likes you,” Jimin sighs.

“Who???”

Jimin makes a face. “For someone who flirts easily, you’re awfully dense to someone else’s feelings.”

Hoseok lets out an unamused snort. “I don’t flirt—”

“You gave Y/N flowers,” Jimin gives him a pointed look.

“How did—” Hoseok comes to a realisation. “—right, Jungkook.” he mumbles before he explains, “It was supposed to be an apology gift—”

“And then yesterday you empty your supply of iris flowers too to give her for no apparent reason—”

“The kid should really learn to shut his mouth.” Hoseok groans, his cheek heating in embarrassment.

“—if that isn’t called flirting—”

“Jimin, you flirt with everyone too.”

“That’s different, hyung. I charm people.”

Hoseok sighs. “We’re going off track here.”

“Okay, so I had told the choir members to sing a few blocks away from her store. But, she drove them away again!” Jimin slaps the table with the cloth.

Hoseok scrunches his eyebrows. “What do you mean a few blocks away? Y/N said she found them in front of the bookstore again.”

“That’s not what Ellie told me.”

“I still don’t know who Ellie is, but I think there’s a whole misunderstanding here.”

“No, hyung. There is no clear proof—”

“Did you ask the other choir members?” Hoseok asks before sighing. “I mean, shouldn’t there at least be a few other witnesses that can confirm where exactly they were singing?”

“The entire choir said so.”

“Did they actually tell you that? Or did only Ellie tell you that and you assumed it was the whole choir crew’s answer?”

Jimin purses his lips.

“Y/N is not the type to lie, Jimin. It’s not fair to her if you only consider one person’s point of view. And I saw how unhappy Y/N was that day. Don’t you think you should’ve confirmed it with other people first before jumping to conclusions?” Hoseok lets out another disgruntled sigh.

Jimin goes silent, seemingly pondering at Hoseok’s words.

“And I invited her here—” Hoseok points at the ground, indicating the bakery. “—that afternoon, since she likes your sugar doughnuts. And other things you bake. Thought it might cheer her up, but look how it went.” He raises his arms in exasperation.

“She tried it? She never even stepped into the bakery until she came along that time with you!”

“Well…”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ flashback ]

“___, I’ll take more of these home today!” Hoseok lifts up his hand that’s holding the powdered doughnut.

Jimin’s girlfriend nods. “Anything else?”

“Oh! Your caramel cookies too, please.”

She nods again. “Coming right up.”

A few minutes later, Hoseok steps out of the bakery with a paper bag in hand. His nose is buried in his scarlet scarf, and he hums a soft tune while padding through the snow-covered sidewalk. As he gets closer to your dimly-lighted bookstore, his glove-covered hands start to grow clammy while his heart beats a tad faster.

“Y/N~” He calls out after the bell of the doorstep rings.

You scramble up to your feet from your slouching position behind the cashier register, wide-eyed. “H-Hoseok? What are you—” Your words falter when he lifts up the paper bag in his hold, grinning at your confused state.

“I brought some sweets.” He stops right in front of you, placing down the bag before opening it. “So… I got some powdered doughnuts…” He takes it out. “I hope you like them.”

“Well, yes. But—”

He puts the paper-wrapped doughnut on your hand. “Go ahead, try it.”

“I…”

“Or do you want me to feed you?” Hoseok teases, raising up the other doughnut towards your mouth. “Then here, ah—”

You take a step back, avoiding his reach before taking a bite out of your doughnut. He laughs at your pout while you chew, patiently waiting until you swallow it. “So...?”

Nodding slowly, you observe the bitten doughnut for a few moments then snap your gaze at him. “Thank you. This is really good.” You take another bite of the doughnut, fighting back the instinct to smile.

“Great! Now, try the caramel cookies!”

“Wait, but I—”

Hoseok plucks the doughnut from your hold, replacing it with a caramel cookie and urges you to try it and you comply.

“Where did you get this?” Eyes full of wonder as you stare at the cookie.

“Jimin’s bakery.”

“What? No way.”

Hoseok tilts his head in curiosity. “You’ve never tried his baked goods before? Even after months the bakery has opened?”

You shake your head. “Never had the chance. I assumed it’s nothing special. But now…”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

“She said what?” Jimin gapes, not sure if he heard what Hoseok said was right.

Hoseok repeats, “She likes your sugar doughnuts and caramel cookies. She said they were ‘excellent delicacies’ when she tried them.” More precisely, you said, I suppose despite his absurd personality, he still makes excellent delicacies. But Hoseok knows better than to say that.

Jimin is downright speechless at your compliment.

“Anyways,” Hoseok clears his throat. “As I was saying, I frequently visit her, and on that day she wasn’t happy at all, Jimin. So, I didn’t visit her that morning to let her cool off and visit her during the afternoon.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ flashback ]

Hoseok gazes up from his phone when the streetlight turns green. Shoving the device into his coat’s pocket, he crosses the street. From the corner of his eye, your bookstore comes to his view, and a smile appears on his face. As he draws nearer, his steps grow lighter. That is until he peeks in from the window and notices a deep frown on your face. He falters, weighing his own thoughts on whether or not to approach you at this moment. And he decides against it and plans to visit you in the afternoon instead to let you cool off from, perhaps, an argument.

And off he goes, still passing by your store; still purposefully slowing down his steps to see you through the stained glass window for longer, to see if you’re okay. He’s surprised at the sight of you tracing your jukebox slowly, gazing at it fondly. It must have meant so much to you, he assumes. Smiling softly, Hoseok continues down the pathway to his flower shop.

It’s nearly midday when a familiar face from Jimin’s choir group visits him. She waves at him. “Hobi!”

“Welc—”

“So, glad to see you again!” The girl squeals as she reaches him at the counter.

“Hi…”

“How are you?”

“Good and uh, shouldn’t you be singing with your choir members?”

Her face falls slightly at his question before she scoffs, “It’s cancelled because someone was so rude. She just told us to scram. Like who does that? We’re spreading the Christmas spirit! Everyone should be happy, especially at this time of year!”

And Hoseok instantly has an inkling of who this someone is. “I don’t think we have the right to judge someone. Everyone has their own problems, after all.”

She seems genuinely shocked by Hoseok’s words. But Hoseok didn’t bother waiting for her response as he said, “If you aren’t planning to buy anything, I would appreciate it if you leave. There are other customers here. And I would listen to Y/N if I were you.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

“I’m sorry.”

You raise a brow at the unexpected guest who is standing right in front of you, eyeing him briefly before shifting your attention to the man beside him.

“What are you both doing here?” You ask. “More specifically, what are you doing here?” Your gaze snaps back to Jimin, who is huffing in annoyance with his arms crossed against his chest — looking like he was just scolded by, you presume, the grinning man beside him. So you ask, “Hoseok, what is this?”

“I talked some sense into him,” he replies, elbowing Jimin not-so-subtly.

“I am here to apologise, Y/N. For the way I reacted in the bakery—”

Your stare narrows. “I thought we’re past that. And I told you it was my fault.”

“Would you please let me finish?” Jimin asks in a surprisingly polite manner. You assume he’s trying his best not to get frustrated further with you since, well, you always have that irritating presence during this time of the year and have the knack to run his patience thin. “I also want to apologise for assuming the worst of you.”

Now that catches you off-guard. Your silence spurs him on.

“I contacted the choir members and told them to not sing in front of your store. And I told them to sing at least a few blocks away. I should have confirmed their location with you instead of blindly trusting the people I barely interact with outside of choir activities—”

Not like we interact much either, you thought but hold back your tongue.

“—and it was my mistake for doing that. I only recently found out that they were really in front of your store—” He glances Hoseok, unamused. “—Hyung had contacted the choir people and had them confirm that they were singing in front of your store. Which is why—”

The sudden burst of your door opening startles the three of you.

“You brought her here?” Your expression clearly shows disdain at the sight of Chatterbox strutting in like she owns the place. And you wish nothing but to kick her out at this moment because she’s like an impending doom that’s about to befall your bookstore.

“No, we didn’t—” Hoseok looks flustered.

“I’m here to spread the Christmas spirit to Y/N!” Chatterbox claims with a few drinks in her hand. “Since she seems to hate our singing so much, I thought a few drinks will ease her up for Christmas!”

“Did she follow us?” Hoseok hisses to Jimin who looks just as flustered.

“I thought she should apologise to Y/N too.”

“Clearly, she has the wrong idea about this meeting,” Hoseok groans. However, just before Jimin can respond, a crash cuts him off.

It feels as if time is slowing down and your heart drops when she trips over one of the antique rugs and spills on…

“No!” You lurch forward — figure blocked by the counter you’re standing behind — towards the jukebox that’s drenched in eggnog, regarding it with widened eyes and trembling hands in the air.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Chatterbox whispers, standing up straight on her feet. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

You clench your fists as you snap your head towards her, eyes blazing. “Get out.”

“But the drinks—”

“I said, get out!” Rarely do you ever raise your voice, but you are already trembling in anger as no one made a single move. You grab Chatterbox, pulling her along with such strength that she struggled against your iron-like grip.

“I said I was sorry!”

“Well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it!” You seethe, shoving her out like a ragdoll. Jimin approaches you carefully and tries to appease you, but you shake your head. “Now, this is your fault.”

Hoseok looks downright devastated as he watches you. “Y/N…”

“Get out, leave me alone.”

There are no other words but warmth and pure joy that can describe the sight of children excitedly rushing towards you; they are all giggling and squealing.

“Uh, please don’t block the way,” you huff. Stopping momentarily, you lift a knee to support your hold on the heavy box briefly to prevent it from slipping down.

“Y/N,” Miriam greets you with a warm smile on her face. “So glad that you can make it.”

“Of course,” you reply, crouching to place the heavy box on the wooden floor of the living room. Taking off your gloves, you ask, “Where’s Helen?”

“She’s staying with her grandson for a couple of days; said something about a family Christmas reunion.”

“Ah…” You tear open the duct tape and take out the children’s books you packed a few weeks ago. “Well, then—”

“Y/N! Are you going to read us a Christmas story this time?” One of the children — Amy — asks with a big smile on her face.

“I shouldn’t… Maybe Helen can read to you once she’s back—” Words die on your throat at the expectant — hopeful — gazes of the children that have gathered in the warm living room. “Okay… Maybe one book won’t hurt—”

The children squeal happily.

“—so, you guys pick whichever book you want, and I’ll read it to you.” Then they rush to the opened cardboard box. You make yourself comfortable against the velvet cushions that’s spread on the rug-covered floor. While the children are busy discussing which book would be their pick, you fish out your phone from the pocket of your discarded coat only to realise that Helen had sent you a message that she won’t be in the orphanage tonight.

After replying to her with some reassurance — that you’d take over the story-telling position just for today — your fingers hover over Hoseok’s unread messages from yesterday night. Well, since the day you told him to get out of your bookstore in your fit of rage.

Hoseok constantly messaged you about many things — asking how you are doing, if you want to go out to get some coffee, or even just ramble about his day. You read all of them through the notifications from your phone — the ones that are not cut off by the message bubble — and your heart aches just a little more.

“This one!” Amy runs up to you, handing the book before taking the spot right next to you.

When you read the title, you falter. “Wait, are the others okay with this or are there any books you’d like me to read?” You look around at the children who are already in their respective seats surrounding you in a half-circle; they nod eagerly.

Letting out a sigh, you purse your lips for a brief moment. “Alright then—” You lift the book up; front cover facing the children. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas…”

Then you flip the book open and begin reading the story…

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

By the time you have finished reading the book, it’s nearly midnight; most of the children have fallen asleep with a content smile on their faces. You make it your mission to help Miriam tuck them into their beds since Helen is not here tonight.

“I really appreciate what you did today, Y/N.” Miriam follows you out of the building, stopping on the doorway.

“It’s not a problem, really.” You put on your gloves.

“But I really appreciate it, Y/N. And you know you will always be welcomed here.” Miriam reminds you.

You let out a sheepish chuckle. “Thanks, Miriam. Maybe I’ll come back and help around.”

She pulls you in for a hug. “The children love you. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled whenever you decide to come visit.”

After exchanging a few more words, you leave the orphanage and walk into the winter night. Gradually, your thoughts take you to Hoseok once more. You’d be lying if you don’t miss his presence and it has been just a few days since the incident. However, you just can’t find the right words to explain yourself, not when Christmas Eve is nearing.

Shaking your head, you keep your gaze low; eyes focusing on the snow-covered streets while the night grows darker with only street lanterns dimly lighting up the pathway. Just as you pass a particular house, loud laughter catches your attention, causing your legs to stop abruptly.

Through the bright window, you watch silently at what seems to be a Christmas gathering. You recognise some people who live in the same neighbourhood as you; even Jimin and Jungkook are there and… And Hoseok. Their smiles are so warm, and they seem to be enjoying themselves as they sit by the fireplace. The lively atmosphere inside the warm room is a definite contrast to the quietness of the night outside.

Letting out a sigh, you stop watching and continue on your way; once you arrive at your house, you mutter weakly, “I’m home…” After taking off your boots and gloves, you tug off your coat, brushing off the snow before you hang it on the coat hanger. Making your way towards the dark kitchen, you flip the light on and boil some water.

While waiting for it, your own mind seems to have an internal battle of its own. After that incident, you think it’s better to revert back to your old self who has no worries in being alone. However, after spending time with those children — it’s hard to admit, but you know you can’t be alone at this time of year. Spending time buried between pages of a book no longer distracts your thoughts, nor does sorting out books that are usually enough to distract you.

Opening the cabinet, you take out a box of your favourite tea, placing it on the counter. Looking back at the opened cabinet, you falter for a moment, staring at the unused mugs labelled ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’. With pursed lips, you quickly take your own mug and close the cabinet.

Rain drizzles down onto the asphalt path while the repeated sound of Hoseok’s footsteps crunching fills the empty air. He avoids the wet snow, treading carefully to not soak his boots further in this weather. Rain during winter is perhaps one of the things Hoseok considers unpleasant, but it reflects his current mood despite today being Christmas Eve.

Crossing the familiar street with an opened umbrella in hand, he lets out a sigh into the cold air, fog coming out with his exhale. Growing nearer to your dark bookstore, his heart grows heavier with each step. He stops momentarily and peeks inside your darkened bookstore, then his shoulders drop in disappointment.

Arriving at his store, he closes his umbrella before entering. Hoseok rubs the sole of his boots against the ‘welcome’ rug, shaking the umbrella to shed the remaining frozen droplets on the material.

Jungkook — already onto his task of assembling bouquets — spares a glance at the older man. “No luck?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Hoseok mutters a ‘no’, passing by the counter gate and into the employee changing room.

It’s been more than a week since anyone has seen you. There has always been warm light filtering out through the window of your bookstore. However, now, your bookstore is completely dark as if life itself has been snuffed out of it.

Tugging off his thick coat, Hoseok places it on the hanger then takes the usual apron, tying it around his waist.

Hoseok wonders what had happened; the expression on your face was unlike anything he had ever seen… And, he really wants to reach out, but you have seemingly disappeared without a trace. As he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he’s still deep in thought, that is until Jungkook gasps rather loudly.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?”

But his movements stop completely when he hears a familiar voice — the voice he has been dying to hear again. In seconds, he barrels out of the room slamming the door albeit too loudly, startling Jungkook and…

“Y/N…” He stands in shock, still processing that you’re here.

“Hey,” you say nonchalantly, “I’d like a bouquet of chrysanthemums and dahlias, please.”

The three of you lapse into silence for a few moments until Jungkook mutters, “I’ll… Work on them... Yeah...” Jungkook snaps his finger while pursing his lips. “I’ll do just that…” Jungkook gets to work immediately, leaving you both near the main counter as he scuffles around the shop where the chrysanthemum and dahlias are.

Your gaze wanders along the neatly placed shelves on your side, and the various colourful flowers that’s set in silver-coloured buckets. It’s your first time visiting his store, and it is unexpected, alright. After your “disappearance”, you’re now here as if nothing has happened.

“I texted you…” Hoseok mumbles, earning your attention on him. “I called you too; visited your store a few times. What happened?”

“I needed time to get myself together,” you answer, fiddling with the button of your black coat.

“Why didn’t you call or at least let me know you’re okay? You had me really worried.”

“Because it’s none of your business.” You speak monotonously, but it still manages to strike at his heart.

Hoseok clenches his fists. “Right… My friend’s business is none of my concern.”

You exhale at that but still keep your mouth shut. Even as Jungkook timidly passes by you with the wrapped bouquet. Right after you pay for the flowers, you rush out.

Hoseok releases a breath that he did not even know he was holding. And he can feel his heart squeezing in pain.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

In silence, standing in front of the two tombstones — with an umbrella on one hand — you lay the bouquet between them. One shoulder is drenched from the rain, but you don't find it in yourself to care; not at this moment when all you can think about are your parents and that tragic day.

Countless of tears you have shed on the same day, each year; though it has been half a decade since then. But your heart still lays heavy in your chest, borderline suffocating in the middle of the quiet cemetery. And it feels as if it just happened recently.

Tearing your gaze away from the tombstone, you look up to the cloudy sky and blink rapidly — adamant about not letting any tears fall this year. With a deep breath, you look back down and leave.

The cold isn’t the worst when you walk back. Usually, you would even cry on the way home thinking about your parents. But this time, your mind persistently drifts to the disappointment on Hoseok’s face from earlier, unable to forget as if it is burned into your mind.

Biting your trembling lower lip, your steps grow faster to your bookstore. You promised Miriam you would come to visit the orphanage and bring more books for the children.

Arriving at the front door, you slot in the key and are about to unlock the door when you freeze momentarily, body seizing as your brows furrow. Taking a slow deep breath, you open the door and darkness greets you as usual. Closing the door behind you, the sound of your boots clicking on the wooden floor fills the air as you make a beeline towards the storage. Flicking the light on, your eyes search for the packed box on the corner, lifting it up in your arms once you find it before turning the lights off.

Walking between the shelves towards the front door, the jukebox appears in your sight. As everything that happened comes rushing back, you move towards it — dropping the box on the floor, nearly tripping over it — and your eyes looking around it frantically. “It should work now…” You mumble to yourself, at the now-cleaned jukebox and after letting it dry for days. You click the usual button, and wait…

And wait…

And…

“No…” Hands trembling, you make an attempt and press the button once more, but it just won’t turn on. “Please, please, please…” You begin to plead, tears welling up in your eyes and again you press the on button. This is the last resort, after all. You’ve called all the possible service stores that fix instruments and jukeboxes, but they all had the same response, ‘We’re sorry, this model is too old.’

“I’m sorry…” You whimper, knees giving out as a sob escapes your lips. “I’m sorry…”

The last piece of memory of your parents ceases. And your heart has never felt so cold on the night of Christmas Eve.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

When the fiftieth sigh escapes Hoseok’s lips, Jungkook spares him an empathetic glance as he does his task. “You should talk to her.”

“I don’t think she wants to.”

“Huh… That sounds so unlike you,” Jungkook muses as he cleans up the counter. “And you’ve been brooding all day.”

“I do not brood.”

“Tell that to the five customers the usual all-sunshine-and-rainbow florist has scared away today,” Jungkook remarks and stops cleaning to face Hoseok. “You should talk to her, Hyung. It hasn’t stopped you before. What changed?”

“I… I don’t...” Hoseok falters, searching for an answer. “She’s my friend, I…”

“You…?” Jungkook nods with a know-it-all look, urging the older one to continue.

Hoseok narrows his stare at the younger one. “You’re mocking me.”

“Nope,” Jungkook says, emphasising the ‘p’ with a pop. “I mean, you have always been forward with your feelings, and I really admire that. Unlike, you know, Jimin—” He pauses. “—please don’t tell him that, but yeah, what’s stopping you now?”

“I just—” Hoseok releases a deep sigh. “—I don’t want to lose her, not after everything. And she’s the type of person who really values her space. I can’t just barge in and demand to make everything alright. She’ll come around, and she’ll show it when she’s ready.”

Jungkook purses his lips, seemingly in deep thought.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” Hoseok asks in frustration.

“I think I know why…” Jungkook mutters.

“Why Y/N is acting the way she did?”

“No, not exactly,” Jungkook answers. “But on why she hates Jimin’s guts, ‘cuz you know, he tends to not read the situation he’s in and go all in without thinking of the consequences—”

Hoseok makes an attempt to cut Jungkook off. However, Jungkook raises his hand to stop Hoseok as he continues, “—but you—” Jungkook gives Hoseok a pointed look. “— you tend to read the situation you’re in and that’s a good thing. So, I suggest, instead of moping around, you can just go to her and see how she is doing? See if she wants to talk and if she does, you talk, and if not, then you can leave.”

Blinking, those words sink into Hoseok’s mind. “That’s actually… A great idea…”

“Yeah, wonder why no one has thought about it, but ends up scaring away customers instead,” Jungkook retorts and clears his throat at the glare Hoseok sends his way. “Which, you know, is okay since we’re humans, after all, right? We make mistakes. And the only thing we can do is try to make up for it.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes at that before chuckling. “You’re right, JK.”

“I know I— I mean, am I?”

Hoseok clicks his tongue. “Right, okay. So, I’ll go check on Y/N. And since it’s already closing hours—” He glances at the wall clock while untying his apron. “—you can just close up today.”

“What?”

But Hoseok ignores him and runs straight into the changing room to grab his coat. Once he goes out, he tosses the key to Jungkook. “I’m entrusting you with it.”

“Wait, but—”

“See you tomorrow!”

And Hoseok rushes out of his store, leaving a baffled Jungkook behind.

Hoseok scores a new record in the number of minutes it takes for him to reach your bookstore. However, his shoulder droops as the last bit of his hope vanishes at the sight of the dark place.

So, you had left. Or still not coming in.

He steps closer to the window, futilely peeking inside. After a few moments, he sighs in disappointment, putting his hands inside the pocket of his long plaid coat. Just as he’s about to leave, he stops — furrowing his brows when…

Is that a whimper?

Curiously, he goes near the door once more and makes an attempt to turn the knob and it opens. Eyes widening, he enters quickly into the darkness. And there he can finally (barely) see your hunched figure on the floor beside your antique jukebox, burying your face as your arms are wrapped around your knees… Crying?

“Y/N?” He calls out in hesitance, taking a few steps closer. You look at him and Hoseok braces for you to tell him to get out.

But instead, all you can mumble is his name. “Hoseok…”

“Hey…” Slowly, Hoseok crouches on one knee to meet your gaze. “I’m here.”

You merely stare at him, unmoving.

“You’re not alone anymore, Y/N,” he says, softly. “I’m here.”

Throat bobbing, more tears flow down across your cheeks. Hoseok opens his arms. “Come here.”

One moment you are still unmoving, and the next you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Hoseok leans back — both knees on the floor now — one hand gently pats your head while the other arm keeps you close to him.

“Let it all out. I’m here now,” He whispers, letting your face rest against the crook of his neck. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

[ flashback ]

It should have been a happy time for Hoseok as he gathers with all the people he cares about. Well, not all of them when you have not even read his texts. He scrolls through his phone mindlessly, staring at the texts he had sent over the past few days.

Hoseok [18/12]: Hey… how’re you feeling? I brought some sugar doughnuts today but you weren’t working today :( i hope everything’s well

Hoseok [20/12]: Y/N, i’m really sorry about what happened. Please let me know if you need anything

Hoseok [21/12]: you know i hate it when it rains so hard during the winter, i swear i came into my shop with icicles hanging on my face and jungkook had to say that i looked like that squirrel from ice age 😭 anyway, i met a tough customer today… I spent three hours waiting for them to choose which flowers they’d like for their bouquet. Even jungkook was close to combusting as well. it was torture 😢

Hoseok [22/12]: Hey, so we’re having a christmas celebration tomorrow, would you like to come? It’ll be fun!

Hoseok [23/12]: hey, Y/N! I was wondering if you’re going to make it to the celebration?

But that last text was hours ago and you had remained unresponsive. Hoseok sighs harshly and his emotions overwhelm him. And he lets himself think if you’re worth all the trouble and turmoil he’s facing.

“Something on your mind, dear?” His grandmother asks, placing one comforting hand on his knee. “I know that look on your face all too well. Your father used to have that look whenever he’s in deep thought. So, let me guess, is it a girl?”

Hoseok blinks a few times, flustered at his grandmother’s guess. “Yes, but well, no? Not really?”

“Who is it? I never heard any news about your love life. And now, your dear grandmother is absolutely curious,” she says, laughing with mirth lighting up her crinkled eyes.

Hoseok smiles softly at his grandmother before he relents and tells her all about you. At the mention of your name, he swears his grandmother just smiles a tad wider.

“It’s about time she finds someone,” she mutters to herself but Hoseok still hears it anyway.

“You know Y/N, Grandma?”

She nods. “Y/N used to live in the orphanage a few years ago… Poor thing.”

Hoseok gapes at that. “I… Never knew.” His heart twisting painfully in guilt and worry. “I’ve always assumed she had a really bad past since she never talks about it.”

“Definitely traumatising for someone so young to face heavy losses.” His grandma explains. “She dealt with most of it on her own, and… She may come across as cold, but she isn’t cruel, she’s just closed off,” Helen says softly. “But I guess you know that already?”

Hoseok nods.

“So, don’t give up on her. I think right now, she needs someone more than ever. She has had no one to lean on for so long.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

You stare silently at the crackling flames with a blanket wrapped around your frame and for some time your mind stays quiet after you have emptied out your pent-up emotions. Hoseok busies himself in the kitchen for a few minutes, and brings out two mugs of hot chocolate.

After your cry fest in the bookstore, Hoseok has taken you to his place for some hot chocolate he received from his grandmother, who had insisted that he should let you try it even when you know nothing of her. You rejected the offer at first, not wanting to bother him more after your breakdown. But Hoseok being Hoseok, from the time you have gotten to know him, you’ve learned that he can be very persuasive and persistent. And now, here you are, where he claims is his humble abode.

One thing for sure, this place screams Hoseok. It’s definitely more to the cozy side despite some unique furniture you spot decorating the place.

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking a mug from his extended hand as he takes a seat beside you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better...” You take a sip of the hot chocolate, sweetness spreading across your tastebuds. And you resist the urge to hum in delight.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok shifts his gaze from the flames to you.

“Why did you help me?” You blurt out. “I mean, you didn’t have to… Like just now, and after the way I treated you, usually people would... Leave.”

Hoseok ponders for a moment. “Maybe it’s because they don’t know you like I do.”

“But we just met each other not too long ago.”

“And that’s enough for me to get to know you, at least some part of you. And as I’ve mentioned before, I would really like to get to know you even better.”

“I don’t think you really do…” You mumble, staring into the half-finished hot chocolate.

Hoseok snorts at that. “You’re someone who really values her space and if someone dares to cross that line you’ll give them hell for it.”

His facial expression softens further as he continues, “And you’re also someone who knows how to stand up for herself, not needing anyone to defend you. You don’t care what others think of you because you already know your own worth.”

You stare at him wide-eyed.

“Do you need me to continue? Because I still have more and—”

“Hoseok… I’m not— I don’t think I’m a nice person to be around...” you admit.

“That is the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Hoseok scoffs. “So you’re telling me someone forced you to donate children books to the orphanage and read to those children?” He recalls the pictures his grandmother showed him the other day — of you reading to the children and having a pleasant time with them.

Blinking, you gape at him. “H-How did—”

“My grandma told me.” Hoseok is now looking at you, unamused. You shoot him a confused look as he explains further, “Helen is my grandmother. And I may not know what you have gone through, Y/N. But I told you I’m here and you don’t have to face things on your own now.”

You look away from his gaze, unable to keep looking into his intense stare any longer.

“Why do you hate Christmas?”

You stiffen at his question as it becomes silent between the two of you besides the crackling sound of flames. Hoseok sighs after a few moments, placing his hand on your arm briefly as if to say ‘it’s alright’ then standing up from the couch.

Just as he’s about to step into the kitchen, you blurt out, “I loathe Christmas.” And his steps falter, he turns slightly to look at you fiddling with the mug nervously. “I hate anything that has to do with Christmas because like I once told you, this season seems to force people to be happy. It doesn’t care whether or not you’re hurting inside, no consideration of how people truly feel in the heart. And I gradually find it pointless and fake.”

You shut your eyes tightly. “I… I lost my parents on Christmas Eve.” And the image of the car flipping upside down still vivid in your mind and you can hear the crash as clear. “I don’t deserve to feel happy, not when I should’ve gone with them at the incident. I-I should have gone with them. It's n-not fair that they’re gone and I’m here and alone and if I’m happy while they’re not here—” you blabber, hands shaking rapidly. “It’s not fair and now, I’ve failed them, I lost them— Their jukebox is broken and I can’t do anything about it,” you whimper. “Just like that day.”

“Y/N…” And you didn’t realise Hoseok is already in front of you, crouching. He lays his hand gently on yours after taking your mug, placing it on the coffee table. “Look at me,” he stares up into your eyes, gaze so warm and gentle that you might even break down again. It’s been a long time since someone looked at you that way. “You can’t take responsibility over the things that are out of your control.”

“And what you had gone through is unimaginable, but do you think you’ve punished yourself enough, even though it’s not your fault? You stopped letting yourself enjoy life itself and — correct me if I’m wrong — your parents wouldn’t want that for you,” Hoseok says. “Would they want you to be trapped in your past?”

You let his words sink in.

“And despite your jukebox not working anymore, that doesn’t mean that your parents are gone.” Hoseok grips your forearm, lifting your right hand to place it on top of your heart. “They live in you. You’re their daughter after all. The jukebox only serves as a memory of them, but surely, you have other memories of them.”

After all this time, you realised that’s what you needed to hear — you haven’t failed your parents, despite everything.

“And looking at how you’ve grown into this amazing woman that I have the privilege to get to know, I’m definitely sure your parents are proud of you.”

Face crumpling, your palm covers your eyes as another sob escapes your throat.

Sitting again next to you, Hoseok coos and gathers you in his arms. “Cry all you want, I’m here, love. I’m here…”

And you cried again, the hardest you’ve done in a long time.

Once you have calmed down, you murmur, “They used to dance around the house a lot...” Tear-stained cheek resting against his chest as you find yourself curled up on his lap. “Hanging socks and filling them with candies, claiming that they’re for the elves that visit late at night.”

Hoseok leans against the throw pillows, quietly listening as you tell stories of how your parents used to love the winter season. His warmth comforts you and your still-aching heart.

That night you fell asleep in his arms; the last bit of your emotions all used up, but your heart definitely feels lighter than the past years.

Knocking on the wooden door, you clear your throat, hearing scurrying footsteps before the door opens.

“Y/N!” Miriam exclaims. “I was so worried, you didn’t show up yesterday.”

“Sorry, something came up yesterday and I didn’t realise how late it was when I was done. But I bring another couple of books?” You lift up the box in your hands in emphasis.

Miriam lights up at that. “Well, come on in. The children will be so happy. They are excited to—”

“Oof—!” The loud thump behind you causes you to turn to see Hoseok huffing, catching his breath — one hand on his knee as he sits on the stairs — another box on top of the stoop. “I didn’t realise how much book you’ve packed, Y/N.”

Snorting, you place the box you’re holding on your left hip and extend your right hand to him, instinctively, to help him up. “C’mon, the children are inside and we should help to unpack the boxes first.” He takes your hand and pulls himself up, nearly stumbling and having his face close to yours.

As if his piercing gaze locks you in a trance, you stare back until he murmurs, “Well, someone is looking beautiful today.”

Spluttering, you let go of his hand, face burning. “Let’s go.”

Hoseok laughs at your embarrassment before he lifts up the box on the floor and makes his way inside, passing by Miriam who’s waiting by the door.

When you step inside, Miriam whispers, “Is he—?” Her tone lace with curiosity as a teasing smile appears on her lips.

“Uh, no, he’s not my boyfriend—” You say too quickly, flustered.

“Well, I meant to ask if he is Helen’s grandson, but I see.” Miriam fails to stifle a big smile now. “You two would look really good together.”

You curse yourself, walking faster as Miriam laughs behind you, closing the door. When you reach the living room, the children are already waiting and once you step into their view, they squeal happily.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Amy waves to you giddily. “Hobi says you brought more books for us!”

“H-Hobi…?” You blink. Snapping your gaze towards said man who is already looking at you intently and you avert your gaze once more to the grinning children. “Umm, yeah. I do.” You sit beside Hoseok, tearing the tape off the boxes you two brought in.

This time you brought in colouring books and other story books.

“Can Hobi read to us today?” One of the children asks.

You shift your gaze to his surprised face, a teasing smile appears on your face. “Yeah, Hobi, you should read to them today.”

Hoseok narrows his gaze at you before leaning close to whisper, “You should call me ‘Hobi’ from now on.” Then he turns to the children, smiling. “Alright, I’ll read for today. And which book do you want to read?”

“Which one is your favourite, Hobi?” Another kid — Ian — asks, curiously looking through the books.

“Well…” Hoseok scans through the titles of the stacked books. Your eyes widen at his pick. “This one!” He lifts up the How the Grinch Stole Christmas book.

“Wait— I read that to them already,” you try to stop the children’s interested looks.

“He can read it to us again!” Amy says giddily. “I think it’s a really nice story!”

“But there are other better books to read,” you offer. “Like…” You look through the books you brought. “This! The Night Before Christmas!” you read the title aloud.

“We can read that later,” Quin whines. “We want to hear Hobi read the book!”

Unbelievable. How the hell can these children choose him over you already?

As if he can read your mind, Hoseok shoots you a smug look and you pout like a petulant child. “Fine, I’m gonna go to the kitchen to help Miriam,” you huff, standing up and stomp out.

Hoseok watches your figure disappear into the kitchen before he says, “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

Amy nods, grinning. “She’s grown up, but she’s still like us! That’s why playing with Y/N is so fun!”

“Right…” He gives a brief soft smile at Amy before he clears throat. “So let’s begin…”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“You’re not reading to the children?” Miriam asks when you appear in the kitchen.

“No, Hoseok’s handling that.” You take a fresh apron and tie it around your waist. “So… I’ll help out with the cookies.”

“Alright then,” Miriam chuckles, handing you the mixing bowl and mixer. “You can continue mixing the ingredients until everything’s smooth and I’ll take out the cookies I baked earlier.”

You flip the switch of the mixer on and continue to mix the ingredients. When the texture of the dough is smooth, you place the mixture into small scoops on the baking tray and that’s when you overheard Hoseok’s voice.

“What can you learn from the Grinch’s story?”

“Oh! Oh!” One of the kids exclaims. “That Christmas isn’t all about gifts!”

“That’s right,” Hoseok agrees. “And also, despite the Grinch being mean at first, even unkind, that doesn’t mean that they are truly that way at heart.”

Your movements falter at his words.

“There is always a reason behind their actions,” Hoseok points out. “So, it’s always best to learn about them first before assuming things.”

“You sound like you know the Grinch well.” Amy tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you happen to know the Grinch, Hobi?”

“Well, I don’t know the Grinch personally,” he muses. “But I do know someone who is very similar to him. Maybe that’s why I grew fond of the Grinch.”

Did Hoseok just compare you to the Grinch?

You scoff internally. Quickly, you finish scooping the rest of the cookie dough onto the tray before placing it in the oven after Miriam takes out the first batch of cookies and then retrieving a serving tray from one of the cabinets.

“Oh!” Amy raises her hand enthusiastically. “I know! I know!”

“Yes, Amy?”

“An act of kindness towards someone can change them!”

Hoseok blinks. “That… Is right.”

“That’s right.” You walk into the living room with glasses full of milk for the children. “An act of kindness can change a person’s life.” Placing the tray on the coffee table, you look at the children one by one. “So, it’s important to be kind to others.”

As if on cue, Miriam brought out the freshly-baked cookies. And the children flock around her to get a piece. She chastises them and sets the cookies on the table alongside the glasses of milk.

You spent the entire Christmas day in the orphanage, helping out and spending time with the children and Hoseok. You even meet Helen who never stops gushing once she finds the two of you visiting the orphanage.

When it’s already late at night, you and Hoseok bid the children farewell with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart. Hoseok walks you home afterwards, and silence falls between you — both comforting and soothing. Arriving in front of your doorsteps, you turn to him who is already staring at you with his bright eyes.

“Thank you for today, Hoseok—” You stop at his unamused look. “What?”

“I thought I told you to call me ‘Hobi’ from now on.” He steps closer to you. You step back. “Hearing you saying ‘Hoseok’ all the time makes it sound so formal between us.”

“Alright—” You place your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him away. “—Hobi, got it.”

“That’s better.” He chuckles at your antics before he steps back, stance growing uneasy. “And, uh, I forgot to tell you that there’s a winter market near the town hall. Would you like to come with me tomorrow?”

You nod without any hesitance.

“But Jimin will be there too.” And he adds quickly, “With his girlfriend. So, he won’t bother us and—”

“I’ll go.” You pause for a moment. “There’s something I need to resolve with him too.”

A gentle smile appears on Hoseok’s face at that. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Definitely.”

He grins before tugging you in for a hug to which you reciprocate as if it’s second nature. And you both stay like that for a while until Hoseok mumbles suddenly, “I think I left something in your bookstore when we went to pick up the books earlier.”

You laugh. “Well then, I can go with—”

“Oh no, that's okay!” He says quickly. “I’ll go there myself, if you’re okay with lending me your key?”

“Oh, sure.” You take the keys out of your pocket. “Don’t lose it, yeah?” You chuckle, handing him the keys.

He nods. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s another cold morning. Jungkook stifles a yawn as he walks along his usual route to Hoseok’s flower shop. Unable to contain his yawn any longer, he covers his face with his hand before he freezes — mid-yawn — when he sees you standing in front of the shop.

Quickly shutting his mouth, he calls out, “Y/N?”

Your gaze snaps to him from your phone. “Jungkook, hi!”

Uh-oh. Jungkook wonders if Hoseok has screwed up — since the man himself isn’t here — and now you’re seeking help from him to perhaps find ways to get rid of his hyung.

“Hey… May I ask what you’re doing here?” He checks his watch briefly. “So early…?”

“Hi, yeah, so I need a bouquet…” You fidget nervously.

“Oh?” Jungkook focuses on unlocking the glass door. “May I know what you’re looking for?”

“Hydrangeas and irises...”

He opens the door and motion for you to enter before following suit. “I’ll put my things in the back and I’ll wrap your bouquet.”

You mutter an ‘okay’ as he quickly changes into his uniform. Jungkook changes in record time as he has heard of stories of you being impatient, especially during the winter season. And well, someone has never intimidated him so much even though he is taller than you.

“Okay, so, hydrangeas and irises,” Jungkook mutters once he’s out of the changing room. He makes a quick dash towards the respective flower buckets and brings it back to the counter.

“Oh… They’re pretty,” you comment, eyeing the flowers curiously. But somehow Jungkook feels like you are scrutinizing him, ready to nitpick at him should you find any mistake or flaw.

“Why are your hands shaking?”

“Huh?”

“Your hands—” you point out. “—are shaking. Don’t you do this every day?”

“Not every day,” Jungkook mumbles, trying to stop his hands from shaking. “Anyways—” He clears his throat, changing the subject. “Who’s the special one?”

You blink. “Uh…”

Another uh-oh. This will not end well. Hyung is going to throw a major fit if he finds out about this.

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me.” Jungkook arranges the flower stems together. “No one is going to hear about this. I promise you. I know you really value your privacy.” You shoot him a confused look while he rambles. Not long after, he lifts up the bouquet. “Is... This okay?”

“Do you have yellow irises?”

“Uh, you want the yellow one?” He makes a face.

“What is it?”

“It’s going to be ugly,” he blurts out before he remembers who he's talking to. “I-I mean if you want them then I’ll search for the yellow—”

“No! That's okay!” Your hands flay to stop him from finding more irises. “It’s fine, really. I trust your opinion. You’re the expert.”

Jungkook blinks, clearly caught off-guard by your words. “Oh… I— Thank you.”

You nod, giving him a smile that is, dare he say, pretty.

“Okay,” He relaxes, bunny-smile appearing on his face. “I’ll finish this up quick.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook finally manages to finish the bouquet and you thank him incessantly to which he responds with a flustered ‘No problem, just doing my job…’

Rushing out of the store, you check your phone for Hobi’s text which says that he’s on the way to the market and would meet you there. With your heart fluttering, you put your phone back into your pocket after sending him a ‘see u too, hobi :)’.

Arriving in the market twenty minutes later, you spot him standing near the entrance, waving at you enthusiastically.

“Hey,” he starts before gaze dropping on the bouquet you extend to him. “Wha—”

You mumble, “These are for you...”

His eyes grow wide. “I… Thank you.” He breathes out. “Wow, this is so unexpected. I don’t know what to say.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle.

“So…” He observes the bouquet. “You bought these flowers from my shop and you’re giving them to me.”

At his words, you blink as realisation dawns on you. “Uh, oh right I—” You stammer, flustered.

And Hoseok laughs at your cuteness. “Aww, that’s okay. I’m just joking. But, thank you. It’s really meaningful.”

“You know the meaning of the flowers?”

He grabs your hand, tugging you along into the market. “Of course. Hydrangeas means—”

“—grateful for being understood.”

“Thank you for being understanding.”

You both say simultaneously.

He stops, turning to you as his hand tightens on yours.

“I never got the chance to properly thank you.” You meet his gaze. “And, I really appreciate what you did for me these past few days — months — actually. I really can’t thank you enough.”

A soft smile decorates his lips. And before the both of you are able to say anything else, a familiar voice calls out Hoseok’s name. Turning your gaze to Jimin and his girlfriend, you greet them with a small ‘hello’ and a smile. As they walk closer, Jimin has a wary look on his face while his girlfriend responds to you with a smile of her own.

“Jimin…” You earn his attention. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods as his girlfriend and Hoseok gives both of you space.

“Look. About the other day, I know you had no intention of bringing Chatterbox to my store to mess things up. I just want to apologise, you just wanted to set things right and I blamed you for her actions which you have no absolute control over.”

“No, Y/N. I could have explained better that we’re going to just apologise — no drinking and no singing—”

“And it’s in the past,” you cut him off. “And that’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m really sorry for not trusting you,” Jimin sighs. “I thought they had really sung a few blocks away, but you still did not like it and drove them away.”

You shake your head. “Even though I hate their carolling so much, I would have tolerated it if they were singing a few blocks away. But they still sang in front of my store and that angers me.”

“I wouldn’t take your words lightly, Y/N.”

“I sure hope not,” you snort, but then a grin appears on your face. A genuine smile appears on Jimin’s face in return as he extends his hand. And you shake it with yours, finally making up.

Returning to Hoseok’s side, you both wander around the market and you take in the festivity of it all.

“Oh! Look at those skewers!” Hoseok points out in excitement. “Wanna go try it?”

You nod at him. “I’ll go wherever you want to go. I’ve never been to any of the winter markets.”

“Alright,” he answers giddily, taking your arm to loop around his own. “Don’t want you to get lost now.” Chuckling at that, he leads you towards the first food stall of the day.

People are smiling, laughing, and enjoying themselves and for once it does not bring as much bitterness as before. It’s been quite some time since you are able to feel this way without holding back. But you’re certain you’ll move on, little by little.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“That was really fun,” you laugh, walking back to your bookstore with Hoseok still glued on your side. Despite not being in a crowded place any longer, he refuses to let go of you.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he muses. “We should do this more often.”

“Hanging out in markets, trying out various kinds of food together?”

“Well, if you consider it a date,” Hoseok says as you reach your store.

“Are you asking me out, Jung Hoseok?” You fish out the keys, unlocking the door.

“You remember my whole name?” He teases.

You shoot him a playful glare, stepping inside. “I mean, I have a sharp memory when it comes to relevant people in my—” You stop, gaping at the sudden colourful hues of orchids and dahlias decorating the broken jukebox. “I… What—”

Hoseok watches you stride towards the jukebox, observing the flowers intently with your glassy gaze while he takes off his gloves. At that moment, you seem like a child finding a surprise gift from Santa. And if Hoseok could, he would like to keep this moment into his memory forever.

When you finally turn to him, you ask, “D-Did you do this?”

He nods. “It’s fake though, since we don’t want them to wilt and—” You lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nearly drops the bouquet you had given him earlier. Setting it down on the cashier counter, he wraps his arms around you as well in a tight hug with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“It’s still beautiful, Hobi…” you murmur, breathing in his scent. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I hope it would bring comfort to you, Y/N…”

Pulling away — still in his arms — you meet his gaze and blurt out, “Gosh, I swear I think I can kiss you right now.” The pair of you stiffen as heat rushes to your cheeks. “I-I mean—”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” he says, cupping your cheek. Leaning down to close the distance between you. You scan through his eyes for any signs of hesitance and when you find none, you close the remaining distance, meeting his lips with yours.

Everything happens so fast, but Hoseok is the only clarity at this moment as his hand on your waist moves up to cup your other cheek to deepen the kiss.

“Hobi...” You breathe out as he backs you against one of your shelves. “Hoseok—”

“Y/N...” he murmurs, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as he looks into your eyes, gaze half-lidded. “Do you know what blue irises mean?”

You blink, still processing his question. “Hope… And faith?”

He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear. “It also means deep feelings when gifted to someone.”

Gaping, you stare up at his face.

“Is that how you feel? Towards me?”

You nod slowly.

He kisses your forehead softly and your eyes flutter shut. Interlacing your fingers together, he leans his forehead on yours while he whispers, “I feel the same way. I have feelings for you, Y/N.” He then mumbles, “I really, really like you, Y/N.”

“I really, really like you too, Hobi.” You meet his lips again. He smiles into the kiss.

When you both pull away to catch your breaths, you bury your face on the crook of his neck. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

And he kisses your temple, holding you tighter in his arms.

After punishing yourself over the loss of your parents, you had never given yourself a chance to move on. But you have known for quite some time that some part of you longed for a change. That is why you admire the Grinch who has a change of heart towards Christmas. Now with Hoseok by your side, you realise that you can move on as he encourages you to finally take a step forward. And for once you look hopefully to a happier future.

author’s note: honestly, i nearly turned this into a drabble series, but well, my writings are either too long or too short theres no in between so, oneshot it is sjdksjkfsd i hope you guys enjoyed it and as always, feedbacks are always appreciated !! if you’re interested in jimin’s story, you can find it here! thank you for reading 💕

#bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanuniversity #btsghostie #kafenetwork #kdiarynet #winterhearts #hoseok fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #hoseok fluff #hoseok angst #bts fanfic #btsholidaybingo #bts x reader #jhope x reader #artaefact;writings #amourville series

[tuagonia]

sunflower - mason x f!detective

pairing: mason x f!detective (mia garcia)

Summary: mason thinks about mia at the town’s florist.

rating: T

warning: i think there's like...one swear word.

word count: ~1.7k

note: lol ok since i flopped at getting mason x mia done for the hotwayhaven event.... i have been waiting to write this for a while and the amazing event organisers at @wayhavensummer finally gave me the excuse I was waiting for to fully indulge in this. thanks for hosting and putting in all the great work!! This is for Aug. 18 - Flowers.

--

They remind him of her.

Large and dangling free from her ears; brightly painted papier-mâché “monstrosities”.

That’s the word he’d used to describe them, making no effort to mask his distaste.

Instead, Mia smiled widely in response, reaching up to touch one at its faux-stalks. It stopped that distracting swing, back and forth with every slight movement of her head. Chuckling, and pride lifting her cheery tone, she told Mason she made them herself.

Lemony-yellow, mossy-green, the burnt-chestnut centre.

All crammed together outside of the tiny flower shop. Dozens upon dozens of them staring back at him; yellower under the blaze of the mid-August sun.

A makeshift sign stuffed among the mass of summer-ripe bouquets reads: “TOP QUALITY. Giant Sunnys £14 per bunch”.

Mason is just looking.

He tells himself there’s no harm in just looking.

And anyway, they’re hard to miss under the hot sun. It’s not his fault they’re in the way of his usual patrol route. Quite literally.

Bundles and bundles of large sunflowers, taking up the pavement. Usually, grey and cracked, now overrun with the sight of them. The florist’s quaint store looks like a child’s plaything next to the dramatic assortment.

He has to blink, thinking the sunshine and its heat has started playing tricks on him. It’s almost as if they multiply; little suns with their earthly centres, drawing him closer.

From the moment he rounded the corner to the main square, he never stood a chance against the brilliance of them.

Mason should have kept moving. He doesn’t have time for this— to stop mid-patrol, to idle in front of flowers.

But they remind him of her.

Not just of the — and his lip curls at the memory — weird handmade jewellery.

(A set for every occasion.

Cakes and candles for colleagues’ birthdays, candy canes for Christmas, glittery hearts the size of her fists for Valentine’s Day. Tiny pieces of reflective plastic shedding onto her delicate neck).

They remind him of the sunshiney smiles. The ones she so easily tosses his way, like they’re never any work, like they could never go to waste. Always patient, always bright, always...happy.

And as he glares down at them, he realises they don’t offend him. The observation renders him sceptical, partly convincing himself he’s stopped to figure out why he hasn’t felt repulsed at the overwhelming powdery aroma.

It’s not floral. No. Instead, it reminds him of...reminds him of… Mason racks his brain and frowns accusingly at the vivid flowers opened up at him.

Mason reaches for one, fingers wrapping around its surprisingly sturdy stalk.

He’s still just looking. He just— he just needs to get a closer whiff to figure this out.

Honey. That’s what it is.

Mason’s frown deepens at the realisation. His grip on the flower shifts, the skin of his palm uncomfortable against the fuzzy stem.

Bright and honey-sweet.

(There’s that memory of her kiss, soft and saccharine as powdered-sugar; should make his teeth hurt.)

The crown of gold petals distracts him, fills him with a warm something that he’s more desperate than annoyed to figure out. He can’t place it, can’t place it, can’t place it— wants to know it.

Maybe it’s the frustration of chasing after the unnamable thing that makes him forget the purpose of stopping, the reason why he plucked the flower to begin with.

...so distracted he doesn't hear when the round-cheeked vendor pops their head outside of the shop, all smiles that he feels nothing for (not her like smiles, though. Nothing like her smiles).

They mention the weather and ask if they can be of any help, but Mason’s attention slides back to the sunflower in his fist. But he shakes his head, unconvincingly but he’ll never know.

It’s the heat, he thinks. The arse-end of nowhere town at the tail-end of an unforgiving heatwave.

But just as he’s about to slot the stalk back into its bucket, the vendor stops him— shaking their head emphatically, their grin growing by the second. They sweep of their hands in a take it, take it, please motion, and send Mason off. They shoot him wink from overly-kind eyes.

Like they might be in on some big secret, and Mason will be the last in this entire godforsaken town to know.

There’s no harm in taking the flower, Mason insists, staring down into its dark-brown centre.

He’ll hold onto it until he can find the next rubbish bin, and in the mean time he’ll try not to think about how it reminds him of the dusting of dark freckles across her nose.

(He gets it now. He gets it when he’s with Mia.

He understands — finally — why everyone before her kissed his freckles like they wanted to taste the stars.

Her galaxies, his constellations. Every time they meet, Mason expects a seismic shift to take them asunder.)

His usual strides have shortened, his pace slower than normal, his senses overwhelmed by the true yellow of its petals.

For a moment, Mason forgets all about the patrol and just...walks.

It’s a quiet and lazy summer day. The sun (high and hot) urges residents to stay in the shade, seeks refuge in cool indoors. The streets are empty. Sleepy. So, he takes his time, the crease on his brow deepening with every side street he takes.

It’s hot inside his boots. That’s the only reason he’s leaning against her tin can of a car, outside of the station, holding this ostentatiously large flower.

A quick detour for some shade. That’s all it is. And when there’s a whisper of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the tree above him and the little crown of petals in his hand, it’s all the more cooler.

Mason can hear her colleagues moving in and out of the station, but pays them no mind as time moves on, still staring down at the flower in his grip. It’s far too large to twirl it with sturdy fingers, forcing him to keep studying it and wondering what exactly about it brings Mia to mind.

Lively, but not intense.

(Her laugh, he guesses. Loud and clear, broken up by giggles. The sound of it never jarring.)

A drop of sunlight, buried underground. Persists and blossoms through cracked earth.

(Her kindness, he ascertains. Not to be mistaken for weakness. As easy as she can dole-out radiant smiles, her sharp tongue can just as quickly follow.)

...like he’s been holding a piece of her this entire time.

The taut pull at his cheeks is foreign, and he lets the corners of his mouth drop.

Pointless because Mason hears a familiar drumming, a quick skip he’s grown used to over the last years.

He looks up just in time to watch Mia push through the station’s glass doors. At the top of the steps, she stops to survey the car park, and he feels a flutter in his chest when he realises those brown eyes are searching for him. He confirms it when her gaze lands on him and...that smile (the beating inside his chest is ten-fold) breaks out across her face.

She shields her face with a hand, squinting against the harsh glare of sun bouncing off windshields. With easy, unhurried steps she walks towards him and he drinks in the sight of her.

That scratchy yellow cardigan that’s become synonymous with Detective Garcia is nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown over the back of her office chair and forgotten, along with whatever work she’s been putting off all afternoon.

Dark curls scooped up and away from her neck, gives Mason a great view to the line of her throat and down her naked shoulders. A sage strappy shirt stretches down her small frame, trying its best to keep her cool in the heat...reminds him of the stalk in his hand.

He tenses.

Mia’s eyes flicker to the sunflower he’s holding and her smile (fuck, that smile will be the end of him) grows and grows.

All teeth (white, and...harmless with the dull edges) and she gives an airy chuckle.

“That for me?” she asks with one eyebrow lifting into a curly fringe.

Pushing off the car, Mason musters up his best grimace and fights back the fear fighting its way up his spine. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why fear is the first thing that possesses him when she stands this close and gestures to the flower with a tilt of her head.

Before he can respond, before he can let his tongue and fear get the better of him— Mia makes for the sunflower in his grip.

Fear tells him this should be a mistake. This memory must be a mistake; one that he’s sure will be the only one to matter in a dizzying spiral of time: Mia smiling down at this sunflower.

The leaves rustle again, and sunlight filters through, dappling the deep brown of her hair.

She makes it easy, never has to wrestle with the feeling for too long before she distracts him. If it’s not a quip, it’ll be an expression that should not be equal parts funny or cute. Spears Mason somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t think he’s touched before— doesn’t know if it could ever be before her.

Mia speaks to the flower, a lone fingertip running over its petals. “It’s very pretty.”

Mason watches her stroke the large leaf at the stalk, leaning in nose-first to catch its scent at the centre, eyes fluttering shut. Dark lashes meet her cheeks, and he follows the line of her freckles (darker in the summertime).

He wants to take his time here too, with the same pace as he did those side streets (seeing parts of Wayhaven he would have never traversed without coaxing).

“Yeah…” his voice is rough and unused, studying as she looks up at the way the branches move above them. Sunlight casting down on her, and that easy smile fixed on her lips. “Very pretty.”

#not proof-read we die like men or w/e #wayhaven summer #rbs whs #twc mason #twc m #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #mason x mia: cigarette with my tea #queue but said like moira rose #tuagonia writes twc

[mellointheory]

inhaling smoke, i just awoke

Red wakes up because he’s cold.

It’s winter in Hypixel City, and even the amount of toxins the city puts into the air doesn’t keep the weather from getting cold. Red used to live near a factory that, despite its other drawbacks, kept the air around it warm. He moved away from the factory after he lost his job at the pharmacy. Of course, at that point there wasn’t much of a factory to move away from.

He fights the urge to stay in bed, even though his blankets are thin. It’s only when a glance at his alarm clock tells him it’s 10:46 AM that he gains the motivation to get up. His hands are numb and he blows on them periodically as he gets dressed. There are stains on his palms and fingertips; skin spotted in dark purple and blue. He was working on something new before he went to bed: a recipe of his own that should give the user enhanced eyesight. He tried it last night and all it did was give everything he looked at an edge of bright orange or cyan. He still has the residual headache from it behind his eyes.

Red and white hoodie. Headphones. Bag full of enhancements--the kind that people will actually buy. A baseball bat painted with candy-cane stripes, just in case. Then it’s time for him to go to work.

He ended up in the dockyards of the city after the pharmacy incident, partially because no one would come looking for him here and partially because it was full of exactly the type of degenerates he could sell to. This was where the unwanted of the city ended up; hybrids and cyborgs who’d gone to the wrong place for their surgeries, stray creatures trying to scrape through living in alleyways. One of them ducks into a gutter as he passes; a kind of modified creature with fur and wings. It’s probably been commissioned by some rich person in the upper quarter of the city, then tossed out as soon as they got bored with their living artwork.

Red turns up the music in his headphones and shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets, trying to keep them warm. It’s snowing out here; flakes of grey slush raining down. He could almost mistake it for ash if it didn’t melt when it touched his skin.

A neon sign, its glow still noticeable despite the late morning due to the dark clouds hanging in the sky, catches his attention.

Munchy, it reads in cursive yellow text. Below it are the glass doors of what appears to be a small bar. It’s a little early for one to be open, and there’s far more patrons than he would guess from a place like this. They must serve breakfast or something. He’s not dumb enough to sell in someone else’s establishment without talking to the owner first; but this has more potential customers than anywhere else he’s passed and he’s loathe to let the chance go.

Red pushes one of the doors open with his forearm and walks inside, exhaling as warm air swirls around him. He walks up to the counter and sits down, resting his elbows on it and sliding his headphones down around his neck.

“Can I get you anything?” A blonde man in an apron turns towards him, sliding a cup of coffee across the counter to someone sitting a few seats down.

“Um, yes.” Red straightens his back, smacking his palms down on the counter. “Could I talk to the owner?”

The man squints at him through green eyes, vaguely suspiciously, then shrugs. “Sure. He’s through those doors,” a finger points at a pair of double doors at the other end of the bar.

Red spins his bar stool in the direction the blonde man directed and gets up, walking over the strip of linoleum floor between squeaky-clean booths. He pushes the indicated doors open and find what appears to be a small casino. His gaze passes over the poker and pool tables and catches on a figure behind a desk all the way at the other end of the room. He takes a step forward.

“Excuse me,” a voice at his elbow says, and he turns to see a cat.

A catboy.

The man is standing behind a counter to Red’s right, soft fur and pointed ears and huge eyes. He’s patterned like toast, is Red’s first thought. Soft, cream colored fur that shades to tan on his face and almost black on the backs of his ears. His hands that rest on the counter are delicate and covered in short fur as well, except for soft pads on his palms and fingertips. Red wonders if he has claws. His blue eyes are mostly pupil at the moment, dilated in the low lights of the empty casino.

“You need to leave your weapon here.” The cat hybrid says apologetically. He has little fangs that glint against the pink inside of his mouth when he speaks.

Red reaches up and pulls his basketball bat from where it’s strapped to his back, extending his arm full length to hand it to the other man. The cat hybrid leans forward to grab it as close to the handle as possible and Red glimpses his tail curling up behind the counter to help him keep his balance.

Coming here was a very good idea.

The thought stays even when he walks up to the desk at the other end of the casino and sees a demon sitting there.

The demon’s name is Bad and despite his initial disappointment that Red was not in fact a traveling muffin salesman, he gives Red permission to sell his enhancements in that area. Red may have glossed over all of the benefits of the various concoctions he creates, but he receives the go-ahead that he needs.

If anyone bothers you, feel free to let me or Antfrost know! The demon said cheerily as Red was on his way out. The catboy nodded in agreement, eyes staying downcast when he handed Red back his baseball bat.

Red half hopes that someone will mess with him. He waves a goodbye to the blonde man working behind the bar and hooks his headphones up over his ears again as he strides out into the cold of the street.

He sells half of the supply he packed, and only one person tries to rob him. That’s a downright phenomenal day of business, honestly. He starts to head home when he gets hungry in the late afternoon. The sun is low in the sky at this point, and that combined with the heavy cloud cover of winter has it dark enough for the street lights to be on. Its not night, but there’s a grey gloom over everything that’s only faintly dispelled by the blue-white street lamps every once in a while.

Red hums along to the music in his headphones as he walks. It’s finally stopped snowing. There’s about an inch of snow on the ground, trampled to grey slush on the street and sidewalk, and in the gutter stained various colors by whatever toxic muck runs through there. He spies a patch of untouched snow near the base of a building and squats down, pressing his forefinger into it.

The snow stains red, chemicals bleeding off of Red’s skin into the pristine whiteness. A trail of crimson trails after his finger as he drags it through the snow.

He draws a penis.

“Excuse me?” A voice asks hesitantly, and Red looks up. The catboy from earlier today is standing above him, huddled in a dark green coat. Like an angel from above, back in Red’s life already. Antfrost, the demon had said his name was.

“Hi, Antfrost.” Red beams, standing up and shoving his headphones down around his neck so he can hear the man properly.

“Hi, I—didn’t catch your name.” Antfrost glances down at the penis Red drew in the snow.

“I’m Velvet, but most people call me Red.” Red sticks out a hand.

“I can see why.” Antfrost stares at the red stains on his skin, hesitates, then reaches out and clasps Red’s hand. He shakes it once, then pulls his back. His fur is like soft silk and the pads on his palms are warm enough to leave the faint ghost of his touch on Red’s skin.

“Do you sell sedatives?” Antfrost asks abruptly, shoving both his hands into his coat’s pockets. Red notices that his tail is nowhere in sight, which means it’s probably tucked away into his pants to stay warm. The thought is unbearably endearing to him.

“What kind of sedatives do you want?” Red asks, swinging his shoulder bag around in front of him and unzipping it to look through it.

“A mist or something?” Antfrost tries to peer inside the bag, although odds are that he doesn’t know what any of the potions’ colors and appearance actually mean.

“How wide of a range do you need?” Red zips his bag shut again and folds his arms.

“Big.” Antfrost’s pupils tighten to little slits, and he frowns. And now he looks dangerous, a fanged man with narrowed eyes and some goal not yet revealed to Red. It’s fascinating.

“I don’t have anything like that with me,” Red starts, and before Antfrost can open his mouth he continues, “but I can make some for you within an hour. When do you need it?”

“Tonight.” Antfrost says resolutely. “How much will it cost?”

“For you? Free.” Red turns and starts down the street again. Antfrost follows a few feet behind.

“Are you sure?” The cat hybrid asks.

“Of course I am. Your boss did me a favor, so I’ll pay it forward.” Red glances back at him. “I can make that in half an hour, if you don’t mind waiting at my place till it’s done.”

“That’s not a problem.” Ant puts his hood up. His ears make little points in the top of the fabric.

Red’s apartment is only a few minutes away, but it’s long enough for his hands to get numb. His headphones double as earmuffs, so he puts them back on as they walk to keep his ears from getting cold. He’s thankful for when they finally make it up the stairs to the small, three room apartment that he calls home.

Damn, not even the first date and Antfrost has already come home with him.

Red fumbles with his keys and unlocks the door with cold fingers, kicking it open and nodding at Antfrost to go inside. He pries the keys out of the lock and closes the door behind them, exhaling. He doesn’t have heating, but the walls and insulation make it at least a little bit warmer than outside, and as soon as he starts cooking what Antfrost has asked for, it’ll heat up in here.

The front door opens directly to the small tiled kitchen that Red uses almost exclusively for manufacturing. The counters are occupied by synthesis stands and bunsen burners, and the open cupboards are full of jars of multicolored chemicals. Red sets his bag on the ground and rolls up his hoodie sleeves, nudging his chin at Antfrost. “Can you pull the pots out of that and put them in the fridge?”

Antfrost nods, turning around from where he was ogling the liquid-filled glass on Red’s shelves. Red slips past him and reaches up, pulling down four different bottles and putting them on the counter. This is a simple recipe, it shouldn’t take him long. He starts the blue flame of the burner and holds his hands over it, letting his numbed fingers warm up.

“How large of a radius do you need this to cover?” Red swirls a vial of zolazepam hydrochloride, then checks the temperature of the flame and turns it down slightly.

“I don’t know, big?” Antfrost rests his elbows on the counter, staring at the swirls of bubbles in the depths of the liquid. “Like, small stadium sized.”

Red whistles, sloshing tiletamine into one of the vials in the synthesis stand. Some of it splashes on his fingers, adding to the stains on his skin. He doesn’t mind. Antfrost is definitely planning something very, very interesting tonight. Hopefully no one can trace the origins of the sedative back to Red. He adds a few more chemicals to another vial, caps them both, and presses a button to start the process. He puts a few pumps of nitrous oxide into the mixing chamber.

“It’s like a cock-fighting ring,” Antfrost bursts out.

“You mean a strip club?” Red raises an eyebrow.

“Wh--no.” Antfrost blinks. Pauses. Gathers his words again. He’s cute when he’s flustered. “It’s like a pit where they get genetically modded animals to fight and bet on it. They have a bunch of chimeras trapped in there.”

“So you want to get them out, huh?” Red turns a valve and watches as the two vials mix, emerald green and golden liquid swirling together.

Antfrost nods.

“Why tonight?”

“They keep them all locked up except for the fights.” Antfrost explains. His ears flatten back against his head as he speaks. “But they’ll all be out in their cages tonight. So if I can knock the entire place unconscious…”

“You can get them out.” Red finishes. “What are you gonna do with them after? Keep them in your basement?”

“Drive them to the edge of the city and let them out.” Ant’s tail has slipped free from wherever he was hiding it, and Red is so distracted by its back-and-forth swishing that he almost forgets to turn down the flame exactly when the mixture is boiling at 211° Fahrenheit.

Antfrost wants to be a hero.

Red grew up in the bowels of Hypixel City, pinching pennies like his parents taught him to. He only stayed off the streets due to an unusually high tolerance for chemicals that landed him a job at a pharmacy, mixing drugs for addicts trying to get their fix through the guise of medicine. He’s experienced with cynicism, with people busy deciding something wasn’t their problem simply because they didn’t have the strength to care. And here was this hybrid man, planning an optimistic rescue mission just because he knew animals were being hurt and it made him sad.

Kindness. Red wonders when it became something unfamiliar to him.

The liquid he’s mixed evaporates into a faint yellow mist that he splits into three different vials. He caps them and lines them up on the counter. Antfrost reaches for the one still under Red’s hand and, impulsively, he slides it farther away from the hybrid’s grasp.

“I’m coming.” Red declares. Antfrost looks up, pupils dilating and expanding to make his blue eyes suddenly seem three times bigger. Fuck, that’s cute.

“Are you sure?” He asks, screwing up his face.

“Absolutely.” Red nods.

“Can you fight at all?” Antfrost steps back and gives Red a once-over.

“I don’t carry a baseball bat around just because it makes me look sexy.” Red reminds him.

“Okay, sure,” Antfrost says doubtfully.

“When do we leave?”

Antfrost looks around for a clock on the walls, turning in a slow circle and finding none. Red shakes his sleeve back from his wrist and holds his arm out to let the hybrid read the time. It’s 5:43 in the afternoon.

“I have to get back to Bad’s bar and work.” Antfrost yanks his hood back up over his head. “But I’ll come get you around midnight, if you’re still up for it.”

Red leans against the wall to let him pass. “I will be.”

Antfrost casts a glance over his shoulder, eyes glowing faint blue from the inside of his hood. “Are you sure? You really, actually want to help?”

“Don’t have a reason not to.” Red shrugs.

There’s a long silence, then Antfrost finally says a soft thank you and leaves.

#velvetiscake #antfrost #long post #badboyhalo #ppcrew cyberpunk #mello writes

[yoonguurt]

And What Would You Like?

Pairing: Jooheon x reader

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: thigh riding, penetrative sex, protected sex (this is the right way)

You glance at your glass self staring back at you from the mirror, looking as pleased as you felt. Your eyes scan over your reflection in all its ridiculous glory, and you let out a scoff. The woman in front of you is clad in, in your opinion, the most hideous outfit known to man. Your torso is covered in a darker green shirt with oversized golden buttons, the sleeves sliced in a way that reminds you of shark teeth, and that thought kind of makes you feel slightly better. Your leggings are probably the most comfortable leggings you’ve ever worn, but the red and white stripes printed on them make you feel like a walking candy cane. You hate candy canes. You think the shoes might actually be the worst part of this outfit, they fit fine but look far too big for your feet and the same ugly green as your shirt. They have little bells on them that jingle every time you move and the sound of bells haunts your nightmares now. Then there’s the hat. That fucking hat. No, that is definitely the worst part. It’s floppy and red and just pure uncomfortable. It itches and has a weird smell no matter how many times you wash it, and in true Christmas spirit, another damn bell.

You don’t hate your job, but you aren’t sure why you came back. The pay is ok at best, the customers can be a bit assy,  but you do have your coworkers. You say coworkers, but you know you’re only thinking of one in particular. Your mind flashes an image of the cutest dimples and you know that’s the main reason you came back for a second season as one of Santa’s elves. You sigh and grab your keys and trudge out the door. Pulling into your usual spot in the mall parking lot, you feel the urge to turn your car back on and head right back home. The urge only double as you look into the mirror in your sun visor and see that stupid hat again. Your hand flies to your keys that are still in the ignition, ready to turn it and speed out of there. Your hand only has to move just a small amount and your car is ready to go, but before you make that move, you were the sweetest laugh from somewhere in your memory. You hate that just the phantom laugh has the power to make your heart flip and causes your hand to move from the keys. 

Walking through the mall doors immediately makes you want to turn around. Despite the early hour, the speakers are blaring Christmas music, and though you know why, it annoys you. The murmur of constant talking adds to your already forming headache. You can see the line already beginning to form and you already know that you won’t be getting out of here till late. You weave through the small crowd gathering near the corner of the mall where everything had been set up, rounding the corner only to pause in a bit of surprise. Everything is vastly different this year. Last year had been the first year this particular company had set up a Santa area in a mall so everything was pretty, for lack of a better word, crappy. You remember the short, raggedy green carpet that had been set up for people to line up on. It had definitely seen better days, the edges had long started to fray. The carpet let up to a single chair, that always looked like it was one ass away from collapsing. 

The difference today is striking. The green carpet had been replaced, it was still kind of stiff as if this was the first time it was being used. The shitty chair had been replaced by, well many things. The flashy new carpet led to a very large platform with stairs on either side of it. On top sat a very different chair than before. This one looked like no one had ever sat in it, it was very ornate with carvings painted in gold on the top and sides. Directly in front of the chair was a slide. You thought that part was pretty neat, a little bit of an extra reward for having to wait in such long lines.  You walk forward, slightly turning your body every now and then to keep from running into people. You greet the twins, Ella and Emma, as you pass, assuming they’re going to be the second group of partners with you this year. They each give you a wave as they stay in place at the bottom of each set of stairs, which means you’ll be at the top. As soon as you reach the top of the platform, you’re met with the sound of jingling bells. You immediately turn your back to the direction of sound, biting back a smile that really wants your face to split in a wide grin. You do your best to seem like you’re busy doing something as the sound of bells continues behind you. It doesn’t take long for the noise to stop, a whiney sound replacing the jingles. You slowly turn around to see the cutest pout you have ever seen. “ Aw come on. You know I hate when you ignore me!” The sentence was drawn out as the man before had let it out in a whine. “I know you do, Jooheon. That’s why I do it.” You laughed as you replied, knowing it would only cause him to pout at you more even though you meant nothing by it. He gives you a playful shove, pout intensifying before his face shifts into mock anger. Your playful session with Jooheon comes to an abrupt halt as a man dressed in a Santa suit walks up from a third set of stairs hidden behind the platform. You give your partner a quick huff of a laugh and shake your head as you make your way to the right side staircase and motion for the first child in line to start climbing the stairs. 

You can’t even count how many children you had ushered from the stairs to Santa. Your shift was longer than you remembered and your stomach has been reminding you that you needed food for hours no. It had been a very busy opening day and there just hadn’t been enough time for you to grab something to eat on your almost nonexistent break. You had just enough time to rush to the restroom on the other side of the mall and then rush back. You really can’t wait to get home and take a shower and get some sleep before you have to do it all again the next. Grabbing a broom, you help sweep and clean up the village area, all four of you working together to get it done quickly. Finishing your part of cleaning didn’t take long at all so you put your supplies away and wished everyone a quick goodnight and head to the mall entrance. Just as you push through the doors of the mall, you hear someone calling your name from behind you. You turn to see Jooheon jogging to catch up with you and you chuckle a little as you pause and wait for him. Your chuckle turns into more of a giggle when he stops in front you, hands on his knees. You can tell that he is only slightly out of breath and his posture is just an exaggeration. He jerks his head up quickly, flashing you that gorgeous smile and you will your cheeks not to blush. “Hey you wanna go get some food from the place up the street? I know we didn’t get much of a break so I thought you might be hungry and I’m already going. Wanna keep me company?” You feel your stomach do a little flip and your mind immediately tells your body to shut up and that he’s just being nice. Realizing you’ve been silent for a moment, you nod your head and start to tell him that you’re totally down for some food, but a rumble from your stomach beats you to it. Jooheon laughs and your demanding hunger grumble and nods his head toward the parking lot. “Come on then, I’ll drive.”

This was very new. You had never spent time with Jooheon outside of work. What do you even talk about? You weren’t the kind of person to get nervous easily, but you were starting to get that nervous feeling. The two of you walked to his car in silence, shoulders just barely brushing. You took a step to the side, not wanting to crowd Jooheon too much, but almost immediately you were brushing his shoulder again. Jooheon sped up slightly to make it to his car before you did, grabbing his passenger door just in time for you to step up to the car. He flashed you that boyish smile as he held the door for you and bowed slightly and made a swiping motion toward his car. The action caused you to let out a loud laugh as you sat in the seat. Once he had closed the door, you watched as he jogged around the front of the car and planted himself in the driver’s seat. He gave you another quick smile as he turned the key and buckled his seatbelt, casting you a glance to make sure you had done the same. “Safety first.” You giggled at his words, rolling your eyes slightly even though you appreciated the gesture. 

“You good with the chicken place up here?” His eyes never left the road as he spoke, voice calm. Once you gave him an affirmative answer, he nodded his head with a quick ‘cool’ as he switched lanes. The car went silent, but it was in no way an uncomfortable silence. To you, it felt like two people that had lived together for a while, two people enjoying each other’s company while still doing their own thing. You let out a small sigh of content, just enjoying the ride. “Everything ok?” This time Jooheon turned his head in your direction briefly, a look of concern on his face. You gave him a small and a nod, telling him that it wasn’t a bad sigh and he smiled back at you. As he turned into the drive, you realized that though you had passed the restaurant, you had never actually stopped here. A flash of panic shot through you, worrying that there wouldn’t like anything here. You quickly talk yourself down, telling yourself that it’s a chicken place and of course chicken tenders are an option. After your almost panic, you feel the car come to a stop as Jooheon pulls into a parking spot. 

“Pick a table, any table.” Jooheon says in his best over the top magician voice. You give him a playful shove, which he returns. His shove is a tad bit harder than you expected and you start to tip backwards. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for a fall, only to feel a pull on your arm. You feel warm breath on your cheeks and you open your eyes to find Jooheon’s face directly in front of yours. You take a moment to admire his lips up close, your breath hitching as you realize that all you had to do was lean slightly and you’d be kissing him. It feels like forever that you two stand in silence before Jooheon finally speaks. “Sorry. I guess I used a little too much force.” His voice is barely above a whisper and you could feel your cheeks starting to burn, glancing up to see that his are tinted pink too. You take a quick step back and quickly place a smile on your face. “Just check your strength next time, Muscles.” You punctuate your sentence with a small huff of a laugh. He quickly follows your laugh with one of his own and a nod as he follows you toward one of the outdoor patio tables. 

After ordering your food, there is a little bit of awkward silence between the two of you and you do your best to think of something to talk about to ease the awkwardness. “So, why a mall elf? Is it the costume?” You have a bit of a smirk playing on your lips as you wait for his answer. “I just really like kids. I know some of them can be a pain, but most of them are pretty well behaved and I really like seeing the way their eyes light up when they finally get to Santa. What about you?” That was in no way what you were expecting and there was no way you could answer that question honestly. There was no way you could tell him that the only reason you came back was because of him.  You didn’t think about the possibility of him asking you the same question. You really should have thought a little longer. “I just really like Christmas is all.” You mentally scold yourself for such a lame answer. It wasn’t like it was a lie, you really did love Christmas time, it was just a ridiculous answer. You watch as he smirks briefly before giving you a nod. “So what do you do during the rest of the year?” His eyes were focused on yours, almost burning through you. It took you a moment to answer, too focused on his chocolate globes. “Something very similar.” You pause to let out a laugh. “I work in my family’s convenience store. You? What does the cheeriest elf around do on a normal day?” He straightens his back a little and his face turns a bit serious. He’s quiet for a moment, letting his professional aura sink in a little more. “Bakery cashier Jooheon at your service.” His straight face immediately breaks, a giant smile plastered across his face. “A friend of mine owns a bakery and I work for him. He lets me off on the days I work at the mall.” Before you could respond, your food was being sat on the table. You quickly grabbed your chicken tenders, not really realizing how hungry you were until food was right in front of you. You heard a chuckle as you began to dig into your food and you suddenly felt embarrassed for shoveling food in your mouth. Your eating slowed as the two of you continued to make small talk, slowly learning more about each other.

The conversation continued well after the both of you were done eating. Jooheon checked his watch and quirked his eyebrows. “We should probably get you back to your car before it gets too late.” He motioned to sever and told her that you were ready to pay. You watched her walk back into the building quickly coming back at and setting a single ticket on the table. “How much do I owe?” Your focus was on your wallet as you flipped through it to get your cash. “Nope. I got it.” You lifted your head, eyes slightly widening to find Jooheon already handing the server her his card. He turns to face you, smile wide and eyes crinkling slightly. You’re slightly in awe at just how beautiful yet boyish he looks. You get an overwhelming feeling of wanting to pinch his cheeks but wanting to kiss him at the same time. You open your mouth to protest, only to be cut off by the server bringing Jooheon’s card back. He thanks her and she grabs the tray of trash and tells the both of you to have a good night. 

The drive back to your car is filled with soft music. The volume isn’t high, straining slightly you do your best to make out the voice. It’s not one you’ve heard before but it somehow sounds familiar. It's a smooth and honeyed sound, every now and then a growling texture making an appearance. The transition from soft vocals to the graveled rapping is seamless, you almost don’t notice the change. It leaves you feeling warm and calm and it’s very easy to get lost in the sound of the voice. You can feel yourself zoning out, trying to focus on the lyrics. You can make out enough to know that  it’s a song about wanting to confess to someone and it resonates with you. You can feel  how desperately the artist wants the object of his affection to know about  his feelings. The song is nearing its end when you finally realize you’re pulling up to your car and you really want to know who the artist is so you can look them up, but you can’t seem to make yourself ask. You both sit silently for a moment before Jooheon’s voice rings out in the air. “Thanks for coming with. See you tomorrow for the ole shift work? You give him a nod. “Thanks for the invite,I had fun.” You reach for the handle, trying not to swing the door too hard. You give him a smile and a small wave as you step out of the car and move to close the door. You hear Jooheon call your name and you pause and lean down a little to look at him. “Get home safe, yeah?” You laugh and agree, telling him to do the same as you close the door. 

You’re beyond grateful at the feeling of the hot water that falls from the shower head. Showers have always been your favorite part of the day, even to the extent of taking more than one on occasion. Most of your showers where the run of the mill get clean showers, but sometimes you would take far longer than you needed. You really liked being able to take your time, sitting down in the bottom of the tub and letting the water just run over your body. You could almost feel the weight of the day being purged from your body. Showers were your way of relaxing, and though this one was no different, you didn’t let it drag on. You were more tired than usual, which probably had something to do with the slight mental strain of being nervous about the hangout/date with Jooheon. Was it a date? You wanted to entertain that thought but you couldn’t allow yourself. Jooheon was just being nice since you two hadn’t had lunch, nothing more. Even though your brain spent energy telling yourself that was all it was, your heart still felt a small flip at the possibility of a date. 

Feeling a slight chill as you step out of the shower, you rush to grab your favorite of black sweats and plain black shirt that is just a tad too big. You quickly dress yourself and rush to put your work clothes in the dryer, flicking your heat on as you pass the thermostat. Your nightly routine didn’t consist of anything too intensive. You washed your face with a simple face wash, followed by an equally simple moisturizer and a brush of your teeth. Due to the cold, you made sure to dry your hair, not wanting to possibly get sick, which was the final piece of your routine. Your apartment has started to warm up slightly, but you still bury yourself in your bed, dragging the blanket all the way up to your chin. 

Your alarm snaps you out of sleep and you already feel your mood dip. The fog of your dreams lifts enough for you to not fully remember what it was about, but your heart is swelling with feelings of Jooeheon, which leads you to believe he played an important part in your mind's nightly escapades. It isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of the dimpled man, and you can feel that it probably won’t be the last. Your thought drifts to the day you met Jooheon and a smile immediately graces your lips without you even realizing it. You laugh slightly at the memory, feeling so long ago even though it’s only just been a year. 

You had been sitting in a bland room waiting for your interview to start, eyes panning the room. It was just a small room with dull gray walls, the paint was slightly peeling and there was no wall art anywhere in the room. The only sign of movement was the man on the other side of the room, bouncing his leg. You could practically see the sweat starting to bead up on his forehead and you felt a little bad for him. This was obviously something he wanted and anyone could see how nervous he was about this interview. You noticed as he glanced at you, leg still bouncing only faster. You quickly react by flashing him a smile and giving him a thumbs up as a lady in slacks calls his name. He hadn’t been behind the white door for long before he came back out, this time with a large smile on his face. You had been struck by how boyish his smile had been, not expecting it. Immediately after you were struck by just how attractive the man was and how his smile seemed to fit him perfectly, even though you had never talked to him. After getting the job, you were shocked that Jooheon had been assigned as your elf partner. The company had wanted every employee to have a partner. The partners would work every shift together, the company felt that it would bring some sort of consistency in the village. As soon as you had arrived, he gave you that dazzling smile and you knew that you were going to be hooked. 

You got ready much like you had the day before, mirror mental meltdown included. You hold out hope that today will be a good day, the day before hadn’t been awful despite not getting a lunch. Your hope was very swiftly smashed as you looked at the line already forming. It was twice as long as the day before and from the looks of it, most of the kids were in no way well behaved. Your shift went by in a slow wave of crying kids and impatient mothers. While today you were given a break, Santa really needed to get a way for a few minutes, it felt like there hadn’t been a point. You did your best to maintain your cheery elf persona, and you had done a very good job of it. When it came time to leave, you moved straight toward the door. Staying and cleaning wasn’t really part of your job, but you liked to help out the mall staff, but you just couldn’t bear to be here a minute longer. You gave everyone a quick goodbye and a small wave of your hand.

Your hand is reaching for the door handle when you hear your name being called and you almost groan out loud, the only thing stopping you is the recognition of Jooheon’s voice. You stop and turn to face him, giving him a tired smile. “Hey, think you might wanna get some food again? You know, try to have some fun and get rid of this shitty mood?” You can feel yourself deflate a bit. You would absolutely love to hang out with him again, but you’re drained. You peek up at him and his face has the softest expression on it and you feel your stomach flutter and your mood soften slightly. You realize as you look at him that there is absolutely no way that you can say no to his adorable face. You finally smile a little bigger and give him a small nod. He flashes you a giant smile and grabs your hand and pulls you into the parking lot. 

You look at Jooheon in confusion as he makes no move to turn into the chicken place you went to the night before. He lets out an airy chuckle before looking at you and flashing a smile. “I thought we might check out the 24 hour diner down here.” You give him a nod and tell him that you’ve been wanting to try it for a while, just haven’t gotten the chance. He opens the diner door for you and you smile and thank him as a bell rings out from above the door. You hear someone call out a welcome to you and you nod in their direction and mutter a thank you as Jooheon leads you to a booth in the back corner of the diner. The two of you sit and almost immediately an older woman stops at your table with some menus and a question of what you would like to drink. 

The table is silent as you both study the menu, deciding what your stomach is in the mood for. You end up choosing a cheeseburger, Jooheon choosing the same. “You know, we’ve never swapped numbers.” Jooheon’s voice is a slightly higher pitch than normal, but you’re certain you would be the only one that would notice something like that. You nod and emit a small laugh when he slides his phone across the table, the new contact screen already showing. You slide him your phone before adding yourself into his contacts. The conversation is more small talk, talking about how awful the shift was and singling out the kids whose behavior made them hard to forget. You can certainly feel the weight and bad vibe of the day slowly melt away throughout the dinner. The waitress comes back once you finish your food, taking your plates and asking if you would like any dessert. You quickly order a small bowl of ice cream, Jooheon deciding that he’s fine without dessert. 

Your ice cream doesn’t take long to make it back to the table, and a smile lights up your face as the waitress sets it down for you. Everything is silent as you enjoy your dessert until Jooheon’s voice grabs your attention. “Hey, hold still.” His arm reaches across the table and you feel his finger swipe at the corner of your lip. You can feel your breath hitch and it honestly feels like time has slowed. You watch as his eyes find yours and his arm retracts to his side of the table, his finger making its way to his mouth. You hold your breath as you watch him suck the ice cream off of his finger. You can feel your mouth dry at the action and while you clench your thighs together. Your eyes stay focused on each other for what feels like an eternity, before the waitress interrupts by asking if you needed anything else. Jooheon licks his lips before turning his attention to the older woman, flashing her a smile and asking for the check. It’s silent between you two as you wait to pay. You move to get your wallet, Jooheon only shaking his head when you try to hand him your share. 

Jooheon holds the diner door open for you, walking slightly faster than you to open the door of his car. You smile as you make your way to the car door. “Thank you for such a great date I didn’t even know I was having.” Your voice is light and you laugh at your joke and you see Jooheon’s cheeks turn slightly pink. As he moves to shut the door, you glance over his form, breath catching as you see the slight strain of his pants. You take a moment to take a deep breath as you clench your thighs with more force than the last time. Jooheon makes his way around the car, his pants clinging to his thighs in a way that has you clenching around nothing and you almost let out a moan. The car ride back is silent and not the comfortable kind, it’s full of tension and it is taking all of your control to drive back the want to grip his thighs at every stop. After what feels like forever, Jooheon finally pulls up beside your car. You know you should thank him and open the car door, but you can’t seem to make yourself move. You sit in silence for a few more minutes before Jooehon speaks. “Has it really not been obvious that I like you?” 

Your head snaps to face him, his expression serious. You stare at him for a moment before you realize that you should probably answer him, but your voice seems to not work so you settle for a shake of your head. He doesn’t say anything and you finally muster up the will to make yourself speak. “I-I really had no idea.” Your voice trails off into a whisper at the end as you struggle to keep eye contact. “After interview day, I had hoped I would see you again and when we found out we were partners, I was freaking out inside. I was excited to get to know you and by the end of last season, I was chin deep in feelings for you. I kicked myself for not getting your number last year and I hoped you would be back this year.” You’re barely breathing as you take in his words. He liked you. Jooheon. Jooheon liked you for as long as you liked him. Your mind was spinning, going back and forth between shock and happiness. It took you a few moments to realize that Jooheon had gone quite and you hadn’t responded. You rushed to let him know that you felt the same, your words coming out in a jumble. “Ireallylikeyoutoolikealot.” You mentally kicked yourself, knowing there was almost no way that he understood that. It’s clear by the way he looks at you, beaming smile, that lets you know that he understood. 

There is a period of nothing but staring, neither of you really knowing what to do. Over time, you both start slowly leaning towards each other, not moving at a hasty pace. Your lips finally touch and it almost takes your breath away. It’s very sweet as Jooheon brings his hand to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing your cheek slowly. It quickly escalates from soft and sweet to heated as his tongue swipes your bottom lip in a silent plea for entrance, which you grant without hesitation. Your makeout session takes another turn as Jooheon places his hand on your waist, squeezing slightly. When you two finally break apart, your chests are heaving as you try to catch your breath. It’s silent for another beat before Jooheon asks if you want to come back to his apartment, which you quickly agree to. He gives you another slow kiss before starting his car and pulling out of the parking lot.

You can’t give an accurate estimate at how far away Jooheon’s apartment is. It feels like days since you left the mall parking lot and Jooheon’s hand rubbing your thigh isn’t making it go any faster. His slow movement and the fact that his hand occasionally dips closer to your needy core seems to make it only drag on. The slow and sensual music on the radio making it even worse, though it does remind you to ask Jooheon about the artist. Jooheon finally pulls the car into a parking spot in front of his apartment building, not hesitating to immediately make his way out and around the car to open your door. His hand finds yours immediately and he tugs you along behind him. 

As soon as you’re in his apartment and his door is closed, your back is pushed up against it, Jooheon’s lips on yours. His hands find purchase on your waist as yours rest on his abdomen. You can feel the muscle underneath your hands and you let out a moan as you run your fingers over his defined abs. You can feel his body tense and shiver as you move your hands over his stomach. His lips make their way down your jaw and onto your neck, finding your sensitive spot almost immediately. When you let out a gasp, you feel him smirk against your neck as he continues to suckle on your neck and you just know you’ll have a mark the next day. His hands slide down to rest on your ass, squeezing and placing a small smack, causing you to let out another moan. He pulls back, lips pink and pupils blown. You’re trying to catch your breath when he takes your hand again and leads you to his bedroom. 

Neither of you bother shutting the bedroom door, making your way straight to his bed. He pulls you around in front of him, kissing you slowly as he leans you back to lay on the bed. When your back meets the bed, he climbs over you making sure to rest most of his weight on his arm while the other hand makes its way to cup your face. His lips slowly make their way down your neck before he leaves a little bite and the junction of your neck and shoulder and his tongue darts out to swipe over the spot. He leans back, resting on his knees as his hands make their way to the hem of your shirt. He looks at you with a quirked eyebrow and you nod, giving him permission. He teases as he slowly removes your shirt, bending down to litter your stomach with kisses. He moves up your body as your shirt moves higher, making sure not to leave a single spot untouched. His hands move to unclasp your bra as soon as the shirt is tossed on the floor. His mouth finds your hardened bud, tongue swirling as his other hand moves to the other breast. You let out a whimper as he begins to roll your other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. 

He brings his mouth back to your lips, placing a quick peck on your lips as his hands make their way to the waistband of your leggings. You hold your breath as his hands move slowly down your body, his eyes fixed on your face. He grips your leggings and slowly pulls them down your body, lips ghosting over the newly exposed skin. After kissing his way back up your legs, making sure to pay special attention to the inside of your thighs, he sits back up and moves to set up against his headboard. You whine at his absence, his teasing and attention to your body having your underwear soaked. “I noticed you looking at my thighs in the car, baby. Why don’t you come up here and have a seat for me.” His voice is dripping with lust and though you didn’t think you could get wetter, you feel your juices running down your thighs. You slowly roll yourself onto your stomach, making sure to stick your ass in the air as you crawl over to his leg. You make sure to maintain eye contact as you straddle his thigh, slowly lowering yourself down. You immediately get a rush of pleasure as soon as your core makes contact with this cloth clad thigh. He lets out a groan, letting you know he can feel how wet you are. He moves his hands to your ass, giving you a slight push causing you to glide across his thigh. You let out a loud moan at the friction, hands immediately coming up to grab your breast. You open your eyes to find Jooheon’s eyes fixated on you, teeth sinking into his lower lip. 

You move your hips slowly, dragging out your pleasure. Jooheon watches you with black pupils as he gives you a push every now and then. You can feel your orgasm slowly building and your increase your pace slightly, making no move to hide the moans falling from your mouth. All at once your feel the tightening of your climax speedily increasing and your grip Jooheon’s shoulders as you lose yourself in the feeling of his thigh on your clit. When the band finally snaps, your nails dig into his shoulders and you let out a loud whine. You feel Jooheon tense underneath you as his nails dig into your ass.

He quickly lifts you off of his thigh, placing you softly on the bed beside him.He quickly removes his clothes and you’re struck by just how gorgeous he is. You let your eyes scan his form as he removes his underwear, dick slightly slapping his stomach and you feel your mouth water at the sight. You get rid of your underwear, tossing them somewhere on the floor as you start to crawl toward him. You reach for his cock, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a slow tug. He moans a higher pitched moan and you can feel yourself clench around nothing at the sound. You move to slide your hand again before his hand wraps around yours. “Normally I would spend hours getting each other worked up, but I’ve thought about this for a while. Baby, I need you right now.” You chuckle a little bit as his flustered honesty, moving yourself to lie back down, legs spread for Jooheon to see your dripping pussy. He groans as he reaches to the drawer beside his bed and grabs a condom, ripping into the foil immediately and rolling it on himself. He looks at you with a questioning look and you know he’s giving you a chance to stop this. You response is a hand sliding down your body and dipping your finger into your entrance. You give him a come hither motion and he whines and moves forward and lines himself up with your hole. You bring your finger up, still glistening with your juices and tap his lips lightly. He eagerly opens, taking your finger into his mouth without hesitation and lets out a deep groan of appreciation at your taste.

He thrusts into you without warning, causing you to let out a gasp as you cling to his shoulders. He leans forward to bury his face in your neck, biting a little harder than before. You reach down and dig your nails into his ass, letting him know to move. He leans up from your neck, giving you a deep kiss as he pulls almost completely out of you before thrusting himself back into your core. His thrusts are soft but hit deep and you can’t help the guttural moan you let out as he quickly finds the spot inside of you that has your vision fuzzy. He realizes he’s found your sweet spot and he makes sure to hit it with every thrust. He moves his hand to play with your clit, thrusts speeding up. His fingers seem to work magic as you feel your second climax quickly approaching. Jooheon’s thrusts get sloppy as he increases pressure on your clit and within seconds you're letting go for the second time, quickly followed by a whine from Jooheon as his hips still. 

His body slumps on yours for a few moments before he leans up and gives you a soft kiss, pulling his length out of you before removing the latex from himself and tying a knot throwing it in the small can in the bathroom. He returns with a warm washcloth and he gently wipes you down, ridding you of all the dried fluid. He throws on a pair of sweatpants on himself and tugs open a drawer and pulls out a large tee and hands it to you along with placing a kiss on your temple. Out of nowhere the thought of the music from the car pops into her mind. “Oh hey. Who were you listening to in the car?” He turns to you, tips of his ears red. “Oh. Um. That was me. I play around with music in my free time.” It hits you why the voice felt comfortable and you smile wide. “It’s really good. I like it alot.” You let out a giggle as his gives you an embarrassed thanks, cheeks heating up with pink. “Do you maybe wanna stay the night and watch a movie? I can run you to get your car so it’s not in the lot all night.” You give a smile and nod your head. “I do have one condition though.” He looks at you with a confused look. “We are absolutely not watching anything that evolves elves.” He laughs and nods as he crawls into his bed and wrapping his arms around you. “No elves. You got it.”

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[freddieslater]

Twelve Days of Rarepairs: Scydia/McMartin | Scott McCall x Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Requested by @wonderdoves & anonymous

"This place is…"

Scott can't even think of a word. He just gazes ahead of them in wonder and awe. For miles, all he can see is snow. A thick white blanket of it covering the entire path ahead, the roads, the cobblestoned buildings, the trees—god, even the trees feel like something out of a fairytale, with long, twisting branches that have a dusting of snow themselves. And it's still going, trying to make them part of the scenery, too.

"You'd think you'd never seen snow before," Lydia teases. 

"I haven't—not like this! California's snow is nothing compared to this." 

Lydia just smiles, a certain fondness in her eyes. She squints up at the sky, her nose wrinkling slightly, their suitcases dragging along through the snow behind them as they continue their way from the ferry port. Something else that Scott is admittedly still in amazement over; he'd never actually been on a ferry before. 

It's just a good thing that the snow stopped long enough for them to actually reach Ireland, or else they'd have still been holed up in their cabin, stuck somewhere in the middle of the sea. Not the worst scenario he can think of, to be fair. But he's glad, nonetheless, because this is so much better. 

"I don't know," Lydia says. "I think I prefer the warm winters. I'm just hoping that Gran and Nana make their hot chocolate like they used to when I was younger, I'm telling you, it's the best thing ever."

Scott smiles, finally looking at Lydia as they come to a stop outside a two-storey, cobbled house with a gate around the garden. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold, her nose a pale pink. Snowflakes have clung to her green hat, along the shoulders of her matching green coat, and to her eyelashes. There's a gleam of pure excitement and joy beneath them as she stares at the house. 

When she takes a deep breath, it returns like a puff of smoke. Scott gently squeezes her hand and holds it up in his own, bringing her gloved knuckles to his lips.

"You look nervous," he tells her softly. 

"A little," Lydia says, nodding. "Only because I haven't been here since I was… nine? And there's so much to tell them. I mean, I know my mom filled them in on pretty much everything, but still."

Scott nods as well, saying, "I know. It's a lot. But it'll be okay."

"Yeah, of course," Lydia agrees. Her smile seems a little more confident as she gives another nod.

They walk through the gate, into the garden that Scott's now seeing is teeming with things; empty plant pots, kids toys, an overturned bicycle. Even the stones of the house are more interesting than he had initially realized, with bright murals painted across the whole front of the house. 

As soon as they enter the house, the door closing behind them, they're hit with unexplainable warmth. And the shouting and giggling of kids that whiz past them, nearly knocking them off their feet. 

"I forgot how loud it gets here," Lydia says, but she's laughing. Scott can see it in her eyes as she looks around the entrance hall, beautifully decorated with lengths of tinsel, and handcrafted baubles hanging from the ceiling. 

Framed pictures line the walls up the stairs as far as he can. The closest one, hanging by the bottom of the stairs, has a familiar little girl, giving her biggest smile to the camera beside a young woman with a striking resemblance. 

"Is this you?" Scott asks, his smile wide. 

Lydia looks at the photo. "Oh god, yeah. I think that was when I was, like… six? I came up here every Christmas and New Year before my parents divorced. That's my gran."

"You look like her," Scott tells her, and he can hear the joyful skip of heart, hear it in her proud little hum of agreement. 

"Well, maybe without some of the grey hair," a voice says from behind them. 

They both turn around, and Lydia's face lights up. She's already squealing and dropping her suitcase and Scott's hand. 

"Gran!" Lydia practically flies at her, hugging her tightly. 

Her gran laughs, caught by surprise but only for a second, wrapping her up in her arms. "I've missed you too, Ariel!" 

"Haven't heard that name in a while," someone else says, with a distinctively more Irish accent, but still holding the same fond, overjoyed tone.

Scott looks at the woman who appears at their side from the room behind Lydia and her gran. He recognizes her instantly from all the photos. 

Maddy places a hand on Lorraine's shoulder as she and Lydia pull apart. Lydia looks on the verge of tears as she buries herself into Maddy's open embrace as well for a second, both laughing now. 

"And you…" Lorraine looks over Scott with a smile and a gleam in her eyes. A certain kind of knowing. "... You're Scott McCall."

Scott returns her smile and nods. "I am. I've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Martin."

"Yeah, I know a thing or two about you as well," Lorraine tells him, and he knows. 

He knows she isn't just talking about him and Lydia being together, but about everything. The deadpool. She knew who he was and what he was going to be before he even hit ten. 

For a moment, his worries from the ferry come back. Not all supernatural creatures are a fan of each other, and with the destruction that werewolves have a history of causing, banshees can't be that fond of them. And especially with everything that's happened to Lydia. 

But then her smile grows and she says, "I'm glad to finally meet you! And, please, call me Lorraine. This is my wife, Maddy."

"So, this is the little wolf that got your heart, huh?" Maddy jokes to Lydia, an arm around her shoulders. 

Lydia looks at Scott. She bites her bottom lip through her smile, and her eyes are saying everything. 

She nods and softly says, "Yeah. He is."

"Then you're more than welcome here," Lorraine says.

Relief starts to lift the weight off of Scott's shoulders and chest. The warm, welcoming atmosphere is hard to resist, and he's already feeling at home. 

-

Lydia was right. The hot chocolate is one of the best things he's ever had. Creamy and overflowing with marshmallows with a candy cane to stir it around. Not to mention the plate of cookies. He has never had a gingerbread man that tastes this good.

It's already dark outside, the sun having set an hour or two after they arrived. They already changed into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and settled in front of the fireplace in the living room to get rid of the chill from the snow. Lorraine and Maddy insisted. Didn't want them getting sick, and ignoring their protests about not being able to actually get sick.

"Your cousins don't look like they're having a good time," Scott comments quietly, watching the half-asleep couple sitting in the corner. 

"They have five kids, all under the age of ten," Lydia replies. "I think the only thing they can feel right now is exhausted."

Scott snorts. He looks around the room. He's met nearly everyone on this side of the family by now. Every cousin, second cousin, aunts, uncles. The kids that Lorraine and Maddy took in have been especially eager to meet him. 

His attention is drawn back to the little boy sitting cross-legged in front of him. He's only nine.

Scott wasn't expecting it when Lorraine and Maddy told him that around ten years ago, another banshee had found them. She was only nineteen and had no one and no idea what was going on with her. They took her in, Lorraine helped her. And from then, it's like their home was its own supernatural beacon, but for kids who had nowhere else to go. 

Sean, the little boy currently sneaking another gingerbread man from the plate, is a werewolf. His family, his pack, were hunted down when he was four. Lorraine felt it coming. She and Maddy found Sean. 

There's a little yelp and Sean clutches his hand. Scott catches a glimpse of tiny claws where nails should be. 

"Can I…?" he asks, holding out a hand. 

Sean hesitates, but he glances at Lydia, who smiles and nods encouragingly, then back at Scott. He slowly gives him his hand, palm up. 

"I don't know how to control it…" Sean mutters, looking down sheepishly. 

Scott inspects where the small trickle of blood is coming from. Three little lines where his claws accidentally caught his skin in passing. 

Shaking his head, Scott speaks gently, and draws on the pain in Sean's hand. "It's okay. You're still learning."

"Yeah, it's actually harder for born wolves," Lydia chimes in, nodding convincingly when Sean lifts his eyes to her with curiosity. "You'd think it was the other way around, but one of our friends—he was born a werewolf."

"And he didn't learn until he was sixteen," Scott tells him. "It just takes time."

"And knowing what keeps you grounded," Lydia adds. "Your anchor."

Sean looks at Scott. "Do you have an anchor?"

Scott nods. "I do. I had to learn to let me be my own anchor, but when that doesn't work for me, I focus on all the people I love. My mom, my best friend, my pack." 

He glances at Lydia only to find her already gazing at him with the softest smile, her cheek leaning against her shoulder. She places a kiss to his shoulder, her hand resting on her arm for a second.

"You just need to find something that makes you feel more in control," Scott finishes, turning back to Sean. "Even if it's an emotion."

Sean nods slowly. His expression is one of deep thought, trying to work to figure out what his own anchor could be. 

"Now, you should go clean this up," Scott says. "Just run it under warm water with some soap, okay? It might sting a little, but just ask Lorraine or Maddy if they have any antibiotic cream, and then put a bandage on it."

"Are you a doctor?" Sean asks.

"No," Scott can't help but grin as he says, "I'm just a vet."

That answer only seems to confuse Sean. But he gets up and hurries off to go do what Scott instructed. 

When Scott turns back, Lydia's still watching him. She has this look on her face, a thoughtful glaze in her eyes and a certain kind of smile that he can't read. 

Chuckling, Scott asks, "What is it?"

She lets a beat pass. She shakes her head, takes a slow breath in, then looks over at the window instead.

"It's still snowing. Do you wanna sit in the garden? There's a nice bench out back."

Scott's eyebrows furrow a little, but he stands with her, following her to the back door from the kitchen. Stepping outside is like what he'd imagine stepping into a walk-in freezer would feel like. 

But the cold biting at his skin is unimportant. The awe hits him all over again as he takes in the sight of the garden, feeling like he just stepped into a fairytale instead. Everywhere he looks, everything is white and sparkling. From the entire ground, to the gazebo at the end of the garden. 

Somehow, in amidst it all, there are flowers. Whole roses and everything, snow dusting across their dark red petals. 

"This is…" Scott breathes out, his eyes wide, "... I don't even know what this is. This place doesn't feel real."

Lydia laughs gently. She wraps her arms around her and nods, looking around as the snow falls around them. 

"Yeah, it does feel kind of… magical."

"We could actually make a snowman," Scott continues. "Or have a real snowball fight. Are snow angels things that people actually do?"

Lydia's eyebrows are raised when he looks back at her, and she's shaking her head. But she's got a smile that stretches to the corners of her eyes and he can feel emotions radiating off of her.

"You are so dorky." She moves closer, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. "And I love you."

Scott smiles. His voice is soft and giving away all of the fondness he feels for her when he says, "And I love you."

She leans in, her head tilting. Her lips are soft against his. He pulls her a little closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. The cold and even the snow is easier to ignore.

Lydia pulls back, her hands lingering on his shoulders. Scott doesn't let go at all. 

"I'm really glad you're here with me," Lydia tells him. "And my whole family now loves you, so that's a nice bonus. I think you even made a friend."

Scott grins, shrugging. "Your family is great, and I am… beyond relieved that they like me. And, I think with Sean, it's a werewolf thing."

"Oh, no." Lydia shakes her head firmly. "Maybe that's a small part of it, the whole Alpha thing and all, but all of the kids in there love you."

They pull apart. Lydia sits down on the bench. Scott follows, and can't help but start piling the snow from the arm of the bench into a ball in his hand. 

"You were amazing with Sean," Lydia comments, glancing at him. She's doing the same thing with the snow on her side. 

Scott shrugs again. "I just told him the same as I told Liam. And Alec. It's how I wish I could have been introduced to all of this. With someone reassuring me that it would be okay."

Lydia nods in a shared understanding. Neither of their starts in the supernatural word were exactly pleasant or comforting. Scott's only sorry that Lydia was brought into it the way she was. 

She rests a hand on top of his, curling her fingers beneath his palm. She squeezes gently. 

He knows that she can tell what he's thinking. Sometimes he worries that banshees have the ability to read minds as well. But the look she gives him and her hand there with his draws his thoughts away from the past. Everything is okay. It's better than okay. 

"It's amazing what your gran and nana have done, though," Scott says. "Taking in supernatural kids who have nowhere else to go."

"Yeah, it's like a little foster home, but… for werewolves, banshees, and everything else," Lydia jokes, but her smile is sincere. "It's a really good thing they're doing. The kids are so happy here."

"I can see why," Scott says, gazing back out across the garden. The snow has the sky practically glowing, in no way looking like it's dark enough to be night. 

There's a slight pressure against his hand from Lydia's fingers, moving slowly. 

"Do you… do you think that's something you'd ever want to do?" Lydia asks, careful with her words.

Scott looks back at her. She's watching him again, with curious eyes. His heart drops many beats.

"Wait, are you—?" he starts to ask, but Lydia's eyes widen and she quickly shakes her head.

"No!" she hastens to answer. "No, I'm not! I just meant… you know, in general, is it—is it something that you can see for the future? Not necessarily the foster home part, but… you know."

She chews her bottom lip. Scott takes it in, letting the question process. After a moment, a smile curves the corners of his mouth up.

"Imagine, the first werewolf-banshee hybrid," he says.

"That can't have been done before," Lydia agrees, a laugh to her voice. "I wonder if one side would skip them, or if we'd be creating a whole new species."

Scott actually does laugh now, and Lydia joins him. His stomach is buzzing with butterflies or bees, he can't tell. 

When they both go quiet, Scott slowly nods. He lifts his eyes to meet Lydia's.

"I like the sound of that," he says softly. "Whether it be a werewolf-banshee hybrid, or even an orphaned werewolf with nobody else… yeah. It's something I see for the future."

Lydia takes in a deep breath. She presses her lips together as her smile threatens to take over her entire face. She just nods, and breathes out slowly.

"Good to know," she says. "I do too, for the record."

"Okay, that's great," Scott says, grinning from ear to ear. 

Lydia hums in agreement. Then the ball of snow that she'd been forming hits him square in the chest. 

It's safe to say that it is freezing. The snow instantly seeps through his Christmas jumper, melting into his skin. He gasps while Lydia laughs behind her hands, hee eyes wide.

"You said you wanted a snowball fight…" she reminds him. 

Scott nods. "You're absolutely right. I did."

The ball of snow in his own hand hits Lydia. She gasps, snow sticking to her jumper as well now. 

"Oh my god, so cold!" she exclaims. "Why is that so cold?!" 

"Because it's real snow," Scott says, his excitement quickly returning. 

Lydia looks at him, her eyes narrowing. A familiar, competitive smirk forms on both their faces. 

"Game on," she says. 

Next second, they're trying to dodge out of the other's way, snowballs flying across the garden. There are gasps and shouts and laughter when they successfully land a shot. 

Maybe it's a little unfair that Scott taps into his heightened abilities to move faster. But the advantage doesn't stop Lydia from managing to sneak up on him and tackle him into the snow. It's so deep that they sink a few inches into it, laughing until their sides and faces ache, and neither of them actually win, both claiming they did. But they end up just lying there in the freezing snow, curled into each other, staring up at the night sky. 

#teen wolf #twedit #twrarepair #scydia #mcmartin #scott mccall #lydia martin #scott x lydia #lydia x scott #twelve days of rarepairs #rowing the rarepair rowboat #myedits* #wonderdoves #OKAY SO I LOVED WRITING THIS #you really let me just go for it with that prompt damn I love that thank you #and scott and lydia are like one of my favourite otps for teen wolf so once again THANK YOU so much for allowing to let them be soft #hope that you enjoy!! #also if any rarepairs are late at all over the next twelve days... no they aren't you can't see that

[city-witch-magix]

Yule, the Winter Solstice

Begins on Winter Solstice and lasts 12 days (Winter Solstice is the shortest day of the year, December 21st) 

Focuses on rebirth and renewal as the sun makes it way back to the earth. New beginnings with magical workings and welcome light and warmth into your home 

History: There are many variations of yule throughout the world. The Norse people celebrated Jul and viewed it as a time for feasting and merrymaking. Icelandic sagas believed it was a time of sacrifice. The Yule log, decorated Christmas tree, and wassailing can be traced back to the Norse people. Little is known of what the Celts did as celebration but it is said they sacrificed a white bull and gathered mistletoe in celebration. The Romans had a week long party full of merrymaking and debauchery that involved gift-giving, sacrifice, special privileges for slaves, and feasting. Ancient Egyptians celebrated the sun daily until they realized the cooler weather and cycle of life coincided. 

Decorate your altar with blues, silvers, reds, greens, and whites for the season. The reds help with chakra work because it is associated with chakra root. White helps focus on purifying. Gold can also be incorporated because it is associated with the sun and coincides with Yule. 

Symbols of Yule include gold discs, yellow candles, anything bright and shiny, a large pillar candle with solar symbols, evergreen boughs, sprigs of holly, pinecones, Yule log, Santa Claus, Antlers/reindeer, fruits (fresh apples/oranges), nuts (walnuts, pecans, hazelnuts), snowflakes, icicles, bowl of snow, candy canes, bells, and sunwheels 

Prayer to the Earth- Cold and dark, this time of year, the earth lies dormant, awaiting the return of the sun, and with it, life. Far beneath the frozen surface, a heartbeat waits, until the moment is right, to spring.

Yule Sunrise Prayer- The sun returns! The light returns! The earth begins to warm once more! The time of darkness has passed, and a path of light begins the new day. Welcome, welcome, the heat of the sun, blessing us all with its rays.

Yule Sunset Prayer- The longest night has come once more, the sun has set, and darkness fallen. The trees are bare, the earth asleep, and the skies are cold and black. Yet tonight we rejoice, in this longest night, embracing the darkness that enfolds us. We welcome the night and all that it holds, as the light of the stars shines down.

Prayer to the Winter Goddess- O! Mighty goddess, in silvery ice, watching over us as we sleep, a layer of shining white, covering the earth each night, frost on the world and in the soul, we thank you for visiting us. Because of you, we seek warmth in the comfort of our homes and hearths.

Prayer for Counting Blessing- I am grateful for that which I have. I am not sorrowful for that which I do not. I have more than others, less than some, but regardless, I am blessed with what is mine. [If you have a set of pagan prayer beads or a witch's ladder, count off each bead or knot, and consider the things you are thankful for, like so:] First, I am thankful for my health. Second, I am thankful for my family. Third, I am thankful for my warm home. Fourth, I am thankful for the abundance in my life. [Continue counting off your blessings until you have thought of all of the things that enrich your life and the lives of those around you.]

Prayer for the Beginning of Winter- See the gray skies overhead, preparing the way for the bright sun soon to come. See the gray skies overhead, preparing the way, for the world to awake once more. See the gray skies overhead, preparing the way for the longest night of the year. See the gray skies overhead, preparing the way for the sun to finally return, bringing with it light and warmth.

Nordic Yule Prayer- Beneath the tree of light and life, a blessing at this season of Yule! To all that sit at my hearth, today we are brothers, we are family, and I drink to your health! Today we do not fight, We bear no one ill will. Today is a day to offer hospitality to all that cross my threshold in the name of the season.

Snow Prayer- From the reaches of the north, a place of cold blue beauty, comes to us the first winter storm. Wind whipping, flakes flying, the snow has fallen upon the earth, keeping us close, keeping us together, wrapped up as everything sleeps beneath a blanket of white.

Prayer to Old Gods- The Holly King is gone, and the  Oak King reigns— Yule is the time of the  old winter gods! Hail to Baldur! To Saturn! To  Odin! Hail to Amaterasu! To Demeter! Hail to Ra! To Horus! Hail to Frigga, Minerva Sulis and Cailleach Bheur! It is their season, and high in the heavens, may they grant us their blessings this winter day.

Celtic Yule Blessing- The food is put away for the winter, the crops are set aside to feed us, the cattle are come down from their fields, and the sheep are in from the pasture. The land is cold, the sea is stormy, the sky is gray. The nights are dark, but we have our family, kin and clan around the hearth, staying warm in the midst of darkness, our spirit and love a flame, a beacon burning brightly in the night.

Elemental Prayer- As the earth grows colder, the winds blow faster, the fire dwindles smaller, and the rains fall harder, let the light of the sun find its way home.

Prayer to the Sun Gods- Great sun, wheel of fire, sun god in your glory, hear me as I honor you on this, the shortest day of the year. Summer has gone, passed us by, the fields are dead and cold, all of earth sleeps in your absence. Even in the darkest times, you light the way for those who need a beacon, of hope, of brightness, shining in the night. Winter is here, and colder days coming, the fields are bare and the livestock thin. We light these candles in your honor, that you might gather your strength and bring life back to the world. O mighty sun above us, we ask you to return, to bring back to us the light and the warmth of your fire. Bring life back to earth. Bring light back to earth. Hail the sun!

Some recipes: https://www.learnreligions.com/yule-cooking-and-recipes-2562933 (Yule Plum Pudding, Savory Sun King Soup, Baked Spaghetti Squash, Sunshine Skillet Casserole, Divine Yule Peppermint Fudge, Chocolate Yule Log, Wassail, and Hot Buttered Rum)

Source: https://www.learnreligions.com/all-about-yule-2562972

#witch #witchcraft #intro to paganism #intro to witchcraft #wicca #baby witch #yule #winter solstice #research on witchcraft #sabbats

[writingsbychlo]

starry night | chris beck

word count; 9241

summary; chris beck delivers flowers to you five times.

notes; this was originally called ‘candy cane lane’, but I changed it up a little.

warnings; none!

When Chris had started working in a flower shop, it was to pay his way through college. He was getting a degree in medicine and it wasn't cheap, and he needed a simple and easy way to make cash that wouldn't take too much out of him. He wasn’t big on anything social, and so working in a bar or restaurant didn’t seem like the best fit, and unfortunately for him, all the library jobs had been snapped up at the beginning of the year. Supermarkets were a no go, he hated the people that came through and how rude some of them could be, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to get a job in a coffee shop.

Working those machines might as well be rocket science.

The little flower store on the end of his campus road had been hiring, and eventually, he’d become desperate. It wasn’t his usual gig, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, to begin with, but it offered decent money, reasonably flexible hours, and the boss actually let him study on shift when it was quiet, and so it actually gave him more free time than he had before getting a job.

Then, he’d started to warm up to it. It was always cool in the summer and warmer in the winter, keeping it temperate for the plants, and it always smelt good. He made friends with a man named Mark who came in every so often to buy new plants to study, he was becoming a botanist, and they bonded over the serene quietness of flower shops for studying and bad jokes.

Little old ladies pinched his cheeks, the tips were good, and it helped him clear his thoughts to be able to do menial tasks like spray the flowers with water every other hour to keep them wet enough, and to sit behind the cash registers. It was a simple Christmas present from said botanist friend that really inspired his passion, though. More of a gag gift, he was sure that was its intention, but he’d started to take it seriously. Chapter after chapter on the meanings of flowers, how to send hidden messages through plants, and something about the way of communicating in ways other than words had spoken to him.

After that, he’d been able to offer a service of sending messages through flowers. He’d become a more popular salesperson, and he’s shifts had increased, and he loved doing it. He loved the physical way that a message could be conveyed, beautiful explosions of colour to mean ‘I love you’ or ‘Happy Anniversary’, and so he’d started to invest his time in that. Nobody had been all that surprised when the older man who ran the shop had left it to him when he passed, not even Chris himself, and so he’d finished up his degree and started working at the flower shop full time.

Mark had taken on a part-time job there, as well as his internship in a clinical research lab, and they’d hired an extra hand at the register. It made him happy.

Less so, when he had an influx of orders overnight, and instead had to focus on building bouquets to be shipped instead of the garden expansion he was making, but happy nonetheless.

He was twenty-seven custom orders in, Mark already out running the standard bouquets for delivery, and he was stacking them by the garage door, wrapped in ribs and pretty vase-boxes, all ready to go. Licking the tip of his finger to flick the paper over, he let out a sigh, two sets of flowers on one page, his rows raising. It wasn’t unusual for there to be multiple sets on one order form, but as his eyes scanned over the list of preferences, scents and colours, as well as the messages they were wishing to convey, one of his brows rose up.

One request for the pretty set of pink roses and lilies that he’d loving crafted himself, a collection of flowers that signified an apology, and he was always happy to offer advice to any guys who came into the store to buy that set. It was usually a guy fresh to a relationship, messed something up by refusing to unfollow another girl on Instagram, or just saying the wrong thing in front of his friends, introducing a girl as his friend, that one always made him giggle. The second was curious, though, and it made his lips quirk up in a slight smirk at the insinuation of it. Red roses and tulips, a darker and more seductive bunch; new beginnings and early love, and he was willing to place his last dollar on it being an affair.

It felt even more sure when he noticed that the delivery address was that of an office block, and not a home address, a man’s name instead of a woman’s. In the personal notes section, there were no names, and so that was an option ruled out for getting to the bottom of the situation, but he wrote out gift cards, one with swirling writing for a heartfelt apology and the other with a sickly-sweet pick-up line and what he assumed to be an inside joke.

Curled ribbons and plastic wrapping, and the two bouquet were standing side by side for delivery, the van chugging as it was pulled back into the driveway, reversed up, and his blond-haired friend rounding the vehicle, looking utterly worn out, and it was only halfway through the day.

“You’d think it was Valentine’s Day, or something. This is crazy, it’s November!”

He took off his cap, running a hand over his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp, before placing the embroidered garment with the company logo back onto his head. “I’ve got something that’ll cheer you up!”

“Oh, yeah? Is it the rest of the day off?”

“Uh, no.” He deadpanned, his friend laughing as he came to stand by him, and he motioned towards the collection. “However, it is a rather exciting combination. These two-” He tapped at the boxes holding them firm at the base. “-are going to the same place.”

“And that is exciting why, exactly?”

“Because one is supposed to symbolise asking for forgiveness and all that, and the other symbolises new love and beginnings and all that. They’re being delivered to an office block, not a home address.” It took Mark a minute to process it, and Chris watched the gears turn in his friend’s head, before his jaw was dropping, and he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Oh, and you think it’s a.. y’know.” He only nodded, and he began to load up the other orders into the van, a printout sheet of new addresses and order numbers on the tags, the delivery sheets loaded onto a clipboard to be signed for at each location. The empty van was once again teeming with bright flowers and artfully arranged bundles. Securing them all down and making sure they wouldn't tip over or get crushed during the ride there, he was confident they were ready to go, almost all of them set up, before he was staring at the two he’d recently made once again, his curiosity getting the better of him. “You want me to try and find out while I’m there?”

He almost agreed, it would have been so easy, a simple way to put his questions to rest, but he was invested in it now, and so he already knew what was coming. “No, I’ll deliver these ones myself.

Mark only nodded, slamming and locking the back of the van doors, double-checking the hatches for fresh air were open to stop them from wilting in transit, and then he was back up into the main cabin. The loud sounds of disco music exploding from the van radio as he started it back up, reversing from the driveway and setting off on his next round of deliveries.

Scooping up the first set in his arms, Chris patted down his pockets in search for his keys, finding them in his left side back pocket, unlocking his car with a click of a button, and setting the first batch on the passenger seat. The second soon followed, and he used the seatbelt to secure them in place, rolling the windows down as he set off, programming the address into his SatNav.

It was a short drive, twenty minutes maximum, even with traffic, the tall and shining office building one that he was vaguely familiar with towards the inside of the city, harsh rays of winter sun reflecting off of clean glass windows, all the way up to the top floor, and it was so tall that as he stared at it, he swore the building was swaying. With a bouquet in each arm and the clipboard tucked under one, he backed his way through the polished glass doors, a company insignia printed onto the glass, and he almost wanted to check his shoes for traces of at the appearance of the clean white lobby.

Large tiles of marble flooring, specks of grey flickering throughout them, and white leather couches along some of the walls on one side of the lobby, a waiting room. The other had various coffee and tea machines, recyclable cups and sugar packets, as well as a range of fruits and muffins, and he wanted to scoff a little at the ostentatious nature of it all. The desk was empty as he finally approached, though he could hear chatter in the background, behind reflective glass panels that he couldn’t see through, one-way glass he assumed, and as he balanced the bouquets up on the counter, an older woman, approaching her fifties he presumed, came out, a wide smile on her face as she brushed down the material of her skirt.

“My, my, aren’t those beautiful? Unfortunately, I don’t think they’re for me.”

“Well, ma’am, unless you’re a ‘Mr Robert McKinley’, I’d have to agree.” She chuckled, nodding her head as she looked at them before picking up the phone, and typing in an extension. Lifting it to her ear, she balanced it there against her shoulder, smiling at him once again.

“I’ll just have his assistant come down to collect them and sign for them for you, lovely.” He nodded his head, turning away to be polite as she chatted away on the phone for only a moment, confirming that there was a package to be sorted out, and he twisted back to look at her as she put the phone down. Manicured nails tapped at the desk for only as second, an awkward silence forming, and one of the elevators let out a small ‘dinging’ sound as it was clicked into use, the numbers on the screen above the floor counting down, coming all the way from the twenty-eighth floor. “Would you like a candy?”

He jumped a little, turning back to look at the woman who had now sat down a little distance from him, behind the computer at the desk, and she turned to him, raising up a bowl of neatly wrapped candies, and placing it up on the glass counter for him to reach. He didn’t, but she was staring at him expectantly, and so he plucked the first one from the bowl, offering her a simple nod of his head, and tucking it into the pocket on his shirt.

When a chime sounded throughout the lobby, the sound echoing off of every hard surface, Chris’ attention was drawn to the clicking of heels on the smooth stone flooring. A pretty blouse that looked like it cost more than his entire outfit and a fitted pencil skirt that was sitting just below your knees, your were a professional vision. Except, your hair was a little messy, and there was a wide grin on your face as you typed rapidly on your phone, not even needing to look up to do the walk, but your expression made you look much more approachable than the usual businesswoman.

You clicked off your phone only a few feet away from him, looking up as your gaze went straight to the flowers at his side instead of him, but it gave Chris the chance to take you in just for a moment, and fully observe you, Up close, you were even prettier, soft skin and pretty hair that shined under the lights, and whatever the shade of lipstick was that you were wearing was perfect, because it suited you like it had been made for you.

You reached out, straight past him for a second, and the receptionist gasped, reaching for the bowl of candy, but you were quicker, your hand scooping up a little collection of the sweets and pulling them back, a sound of victory sounding from you, and she mumbled under her breath playfully, rolling her eyes and threatening to start hiding the treats before she ran out, but you only chuckled, unwrapping one and placing it against your tongue, lips brushing your fingers as you turned to him, and he forced his eyes away from your mouth, a blush on his cheeks.

“Oh, wow. Check these out.” You turned to the receptionist, motioning to them, and she only nodded her head, the sounds of a printer firing up in the back room, and she disappeared to collect the sheets, leaving the pair of you alone. “For Mr McKinley?”

You leaned over the counter, snatching up a pen from the other side, and he only nodded, producing the collection sheet, and pointing out the spot that needed singing, the scraping of the pen on paper filling the silence as you signed in both boxes, handing it back to him and tucking the pen behind your ear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Fire away.” You grinned, unwrapping another candy, leaving the wrapper on the glass alongside the other one, a cheeky move he was sure you’d get reprimanded for by the receptionist who kept a beautifully organised and clean desk and foyer.

“There are two bouquets here, both with flowers that have very different meanings. Can I ask why?”

You hummed, staring at him for a minute as you chewed slowly, before swallowing the sweet in your mouth and smirking slightly. “I’ll answer your question, but only if you answer mine first; what do the flowers mean?”

Chris grinned, unable to hold it in, because he loved getting to talk about his passions, especially when he could show off a little in front of a pretty lady, and he nodded his head. “Pink roses and lilies are an apology, but red roses with tulips are for new love.”

“And do you have any theories?”

“Just the one, but I’m waiting for it to be confirmed.” He chuckled a little at the devious look that flashed over your features as you pulled the red roses bundle toward you, nose pressed into them for a second as you inhaled deeply, a little sigh leaving you afterwards.

“I’m trusting you here, but you’re cute, so I’ll tell you.” Heat rushed to his cheeks, head ducking for just a second, before he was looking back up to catch your gaze, brows raised as he waited excitedly, leaning in to meet you as though a scandalous secret was about to be told, and he supposed that’s exactly what it was. “There’s another receptionist, and intern back in there, fresh out of college, just a year below me, and he’s definitely fucking her.” You tapped a finger against the red roses, before your gaze was flicking to the second bunch, still by his arm as he leaned on the counter. “However, a couple of days ago he had a lunch date scheduled with his wife, and he missed it. I couldn’t find him anywhere, and I couldn’t find the intern either. Not hard to connect the dots.”

“Oh, so he’s covering both of his bases?”

“For sure.” You grinned, backing up a little bit to grab the second bundle, and adjusting them in your arms for balance. “Angie had probably realised too, and dashed in there to tell the girl that she’s got flowers coming.”

You were making your way over to the elevators, and he followed after you, pressing the button to summon the lift, and it hummed to life behind closed metal doors. “You know, since we just became partners in crime, maybe I should get to know your name?”

“Well, that was smooth.” You laughed, the doors opening up, and you stepped inside, placing one bouquet on the floor at your feet and holding onto the other. You caved, giving him your name as he placed his hand over the door to stop them from closing, ad he repeated the name to you, testing it on his tongue as he learnt it. He gave you his own in return when he asked, and when you said it back, his smile widened, already liking the way his name sounded coming for you.

You typed a code into the pad on the wall of the elevator, the screen flashing green as your programming was accepted, and he stepped back, grinning as you waved your fingers at him, the doors closing as you disappeared from view. He snatched up his clipboard on the way out, unable to contain the smile on his face.

Chris Beck hated making deliveries, but this one hadn't been so bad.

There was a genuine smile on his face as he stepped through the glass doors of the lobby, smaller and simpler bouquets this time, both matching and nothing special, but he’d tasked himself with delivering them personally because he’d recognised the name and address immediately, his encounter with the cute assistant he’d met only two weeks prior flashing through his mind as he’d insisted on delivering this order himself, Mark smirking and helping him gather the flowers as soon as he’d spilled all about you.

Now, he had two sets of pretty pink flowers in different shades, and a single red rose in a sleek plastic wrapping, all wraith ribbons wrapped around them were bundled in one arm, the other holding onto his clipboard, and the desk was once again empty as he approached. A bell, sleek and shining silver, and it was a new addition, definitely not present last time, and he eyes it suspiciously for a moment, before pressing a finger against the top lightly, just twice, a little ringing sounding out around the lobby.

A head of curly hair popped out from around the glass, much younger than the previous assistant, and wearing a much tighter skirt, and she grinned widely as she stepped forwards. He couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, fiery red hair and a wide smile, lips painted with red lipstick, and she seemed sweet, but far too intimidating for him to ever consider. Her heels were so tall that he wondered how she even walked in them, long and thin points creating the stilettos.

“Flowers?”

There was an eager tone to her voice, and he put the pieces of the puzzle together, assuming this to be the intern, his eyes flicking down to her name badge for a second, reading it as ‘Clara’. “For Mr McKinley. Is his assistant free tom come and sign for them?”

The woman paused, rolling her lips a little and nodding her head, a coy look on her features before sitting down in the chair and spinning in it to face the phone, lifting it up to her ear and dialling a short connection number. He didn’t seem to need to wait long, before she was summoning you, a ‘flower delivery’ to be claimed, and she was far too excited, only confirming his doubts that this was definitely the mistress. “She’ll be right down.”

“Fantastic.” He wasn’t sure she even processed his words, before her eyes were closing in on the flowers, and he ignored it, turning back to look at the elevator, waiting for the number on the twenty-eighth floor to light up, a number flashing over the screen. It paused on its descent this time, stopping at the eighteenth floor, and then again at the twelfth, and he assumed that somebody else had joined the journey for a short while.

When the doors finally opened, you weren’t built typing away this time, a grin on your face as your eyes swept over the entrance for him, and he waved his fingers again, straightening up from the desk.

“It’s my partner in crime, back again.”

“Missed you too much, just had to return.”

“Of course, you did, because I’m awesome.” You came to a stop before him, peering up at him through bright eyes, and he swallowed thickly, a little nervous but very excited, and he tried to remember any of what Mark had taught him, his friend being far better with the women than he was, and everything from the last-minute crash course he’d been given upon leaving the shop forty-five minutes ago seemed to have gone blank. “So, what really brings you here today?”

You gasped a little as he shifted to show you the collection, sliding the clipboard closer, and you were presented with a pen from him, floral patterning woven along the body, your thumb clicking it on to sign for them. When you passed it back, you shared a look with him, both of your glances flicking over to the intern who was still admiring the flowers, completely oblivious.

“Hey, Clara?” Her head snapped up, pale skin heating with colour as she flushed, and he suppressed a chuckle. “Mr McKinley is in meetings all afternoon, but he’ll want to approve these flowers. Can you put them in water, and I’ll call to have them sent up when he’s ready?”

She only nodded, more than happy to take a gift that she knew one of was for her into the back, hands reaching over to gather them all up. He almost missed it, watching as all of the flowers were taken, too busy watching the way you rolled your eyes at her when she looked away, fond but still a little cool, and he bit at the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement. It was just as she was leaving that his mind cleared, and he cleared his throat.

“Wait, wait, hold on!” She turned back, brows raised, and he reached over, letting her take a step forwards so that he could reach, plucking the single rose from where it was laying over the top of the two. “This, uh, this is actually for you.”

He presented it to you, your eyes widening a little, and you looked between him and the flower several times. His heart was in his throat, worry you were going to reject it, before you were giving him a different smile than he had seen yet, something softer and more endearing, and you plucked it from his hands, bringing it to your nose. “You’re just a big flirt, huh, Chris?” Your eyes fluttered for a moment, before you were looking back up to him through your lashes. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, honestly. I own the shop, the least I can do is give my partner in crime a pretty flower.”

You scoffed, but it was out of friendship and playfulness, not judgement or rejection, and silence fell between you both once again. The plastic in your hands wrinkled as you twirled it, wrapping the curled ribbon around your finger for a second, and letting it jump back into place when you let it go. “You busy? Got a packed store to run back to?”

Your question caught him off-guard, and he struggled to find words for a second, before clearing his throat and shaking his head. “No, uh, no. Clear day, actually. This was the last order.”

“So, you’re free for an hour or so?” Chris nodded his head, licking at his lips as he became a little nervous once again. “Well, why don’t I give you a tour? We’ve got some pretty cool stuff here, and I’ll fix you up with a drink from the coffee bar before you go.”

“This building has a coffee bar?”

“You bet it does.” You teased, turning on your heel as you took his question as acceptance, and he scooped up the clipboard, following after you as you made your way to the elevator, and this time when it opened, he stepped inside with you. As soon as the keypad lit up, prompting you to enter your four-digit authorisation code and make a floor selection, and you paused, finger hovering over the electronic selections. “What do you wanna’ see first, then?”

“You got an office?”

“I sure do.” You grinned, tapping for the twenty-eighth floor, and the machinery soon hummed into life, gears jerking smoothly into motion and soft music playing over the speakers in the background.

The ride was quiet, and he twisted his head as though the walls were interesting, just to take them in and hide the expression on his face as he watched you twirl the rose he’d given you between your fingers. There was a tag, one that he hadn't yet seen you read, and while all it contained was his number and a sign of his name, he was still a little nervous for your reaction to it, so he was glad to watch you place it onto your desk to be returned to later as you showed him around.

The building truly was impressive, large floor to ceiling glass windows on one wall of your office, staring out at the city below and giving a view so stunning and far that he could see all the way out to where the concrete faded away into greenery along the horizon, and he was a little taken aback by it all. Dipping the rose into a mug of water from the office kitchen, you promised to transfer it to a vase when you got home that evening, and you showed him all around.

Up and down on the elevator, proudly showing him every aspect of your workplace, and somewhere between the in-house gym and the coffee bar you’d boasted of in the staff food courts, you’d made him promise a tour of the flower shop sometime.

Way over an hour had passed in total, and he would’ve been more than happy to let that go on and on, for the rest of the day until the sun was setting, just to sit on the stools at the high tables at the coffee bar, getting refills on his coffee as he watched you drink herbals teas and chat about everything you got up to in the day, but your boss was paging you again to ask where you were, and he had his own job to return to at some point. You seemed hesitant at first, but had eventually divulged him with a guest security code for the elevator, logging him under your name, so that in future, he would be able to bring the flowers straight upstairs to you, and come and see you whenever he stopped by.

With a to-go cup in hand that had your number written on the cardboard holder, you’d escorted him all the way back to the lobby, pressing a friendly kiss to his cheek as he stepped between the doors, waving a little with what he knew was a goofy smile, waiting until he could no longer see you as the metal doors slid shut to reflect his image back at him, before he was bidding the two women at the reception desk a goodbye, and pretending not to know that they were eavesdropping, because he was floating far too high to care right now.

Chris hadn't been surprised at all when the next batch of flowers had come through, because you’d told him days prior that he could be expecting another batch of apology flowers to come through. Your work had been busy lately, you’d told him so yourself the few weeks that had slid past since you’d exchanged numbers had been filled with an abundance of texts.

Sharing texts had rapidly become phone calls in downtime, exchanging social media and sending one another dumb jokes and funny pictures throughout your workdays. He knew that your job had been getting harder lately, the run down to Christmas making everything a little more difficult, and that you’d been swept off of your feet because your boss had been, too. Eight-hour shifts had become twelve, day through to night, never seeing the light of a winter day unless it was through the windows of your office as you worked, and he had a sympathetic guilt twisting in his gut.

Two bouquets to make up for the lack of time that your boss had been able to spare for either of the women in his life and you’d looked positively exhausted as you came out of your office to greet him at the top of the elevator. You had a frown on your face that barely lifted into a smile as you saw him, even though he knew you were happy to catch sight of him. The usual shade of lipstick that projected boldness and power was gone, your face free of makeup entirely, and styled hair now just pulled up into a bun.

He wondered how long it had been since you’d had a full night’s sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?” You only shook your head, sniffling a little as you suppressed a yawn, before taking one of the bouquets from his arms, and inspecting it carefully.

“These are beautiful.”

“I put a little extra ribbon on them, just for you.” He winked, and that had earned him a little chuckle, glancing at him over your shoulder as he followed you through to your office, and placing them down on the cabinet near the doorway to be distributed when your boss had a free second to look at them. Chris felt his own eyes widen in shock as he looked around, the stacks of paperwork littered around the surfaces were astonishing, and there was other mess scattered among that.

Stationary littered the desk, clearly trying to get everything sorted, and almost every draw in the room was half-open, your heels kicked off by the edge of the desk and there was a clear spot against one of the walls where you’d been sitting, a patch clear with papers spread out around you, wording and statements on them that made his head spin as he looked at them. Business definitely wasn’t his forte.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead, cursing a little as you tried to find a pen that wasn't a highlighter, and he didn’t miss the crack in your voice as you scoured the paper stacks. Leaning down to pick one up from the dropped pen pot on the floor, and offering it to you. A little sigh passed your lips, before you were taking it from him, clicking it into action and signing your name on both of the forms to confirm the delivery, a simple ritual of habit by this stage, as he knew that even if you didn’t he wasn’t risking any legal action from you.

You rubbed a hand over your forehead afterwards, rolling your shoulders and shaking yourself down as you tried to hit that reset button on your mood, but it wasn't working, it didn’t take a genius to see it, and so he reached out, placing a comforting squeeze to your forearm, fingers slipping a little lower to latch onto your wrist loosely.

“Okay, you’re a little overwhelmed in here, huh?” You let out a weak laugh, glancing around yourself and nodding. “It’s time for a break. Take your lunch break now, we’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t leave, I have too much to do. I’ll just get something from the food courts, a sandwich, maybe.” You slumped down into your desk chairs, the wheels on it carrying you backwards slightly, and he placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head at you.

“You have to go. It’s doctor’s orders.”

“Which doctor?” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him, and he gasped a little, hands finding your own and pulling you to your feet, despite the whine that you let out.

“This doctor. I went to medical school, I get to give the orders. You, my dear, need one hour of rest and relaxation from your workplace, stat.” You started up at him for a second, seeming to weigh it out in your mind, but he wasn’t backing down, and he swore he saw that realisation click within your eyes, because you caved.

Slipping your heels on and grabbing your jacket from the back of the door, you logged your timeout of the building in the lobby with Angie, who cooed at you a little as she watched you go, a pitiful look on her face as she knew just how hard you were working too, before his hand was settling on your lower back.

A ten-minute walk, finding a table in a small pizzeria on the corner of a street, one that he’d been dying to try for months now, and a quick order, and you were slumping down tiredly against the table. The workload always increased at Christmas, sales shot through the roof, all the expansions of your company were filing for Christmas bonuses, parties, annual reports and then, of course, there were the usual rises and falls in statistics over the year that needed to be dealt with.

It was chaotic, to say the least.

Over a hot and freshly baked pizza, your selection of toppings, and a soda that made you wrinkle your nose from the fizziness within, you looked like there was a little more life within you when you’d been leaving.

You spilled it all to him, telling him every struggle you’d been facing, and while he didn't understand half of what you were saying, he was more than happy to just to listen. He couldn't offer much advice, or anything of the sort that might be helpful, but it seemed that just being able to talk to someone had made the day a little brighter.

The chill in the air and the biting winds had made you wrap your coat around yourself even tighter on the walk back to your work, but there was more of a pep in your step and a lighter tone to your voice, a little more chipper and slightly less drained as you began to make your way back across the carpark. His arm was sitting around your waist, keeping you pulled up to his side against the cold of the winter. Instead of guiding you over to the door, though, his first stop was his car, ensuring that you couldn't see what he had placed on the passenger seat until he was ready for you to see it.

Leaning yo back against the cold metal, he unlocked the car, making you promise to cover your eyes, and while making a few jokes about how you were sure this was how friendly guys would kidnap a girl, you did as he’d asked. You gasped a little at the rustling of fabric in the wind and under his hands, seeming to guess what it was before ever seeing the gift, because a wide smile spread over your features.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Depends, what do you think it is?” He teased, making you wait a little longer, and you dragged your lower lip through your teeth, a hopefully look spreading over what half of your face he could actually see.

“Flowers, maybe?”

“Then you would be correct!” Your hand fell away from your eyes, taking a second to blink back into adjustment of the rays the winter sun gave off, before you were brightening up even further at the bundle he was holding in his hands.

Soft petals in different shades of yellow, some duller and some standing out to shine like the sun, but it was a stunning bunch all over, and he’d been sure to pick the freshest and best-looking plants from each pot as he built the bouquet especially for you before leaving for his delivery. He let you stare at them for a second, running a finger over some of the petals, sniffling the collection carefully, and admiring each individual plant, before finally looking back up to him, a brow raising as you waited for an explanation on the plants.

“I just thought yellow was a bright colour. Nothing particularly special about these ones, I wanted to cheer you up.”

He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, and you hummed happily, bringing them up to admire once again, before letting out a happy little sound from the back of your throat, one that made his cheeks flush with embarrassed warmth, bringing a pink tinge to the pale skin. “Don’t yellow roses mean friendship?”

His stomach dropped a little, but he swallowed thickly, and nodded. He was impressed that you knew that, a random fact to know, but he almost felt like he was being friend-zoned by the statement, even though he was the one who’d given you the flowers. It was only a few days ago that he’d realised he might have feelings that weren’t going away any time soon, the original fascination and infatuation was becoming something a little deeper, he often found himself thinking of you when he was at work and filling or orders, or at home cooking, or even letting his morning coffee. You seemed to be on his mind a lot nowadays, and he was beginning to regret the yellow rose choice, worried he’d sent the wrong message. How ironic.

“Well, I’m really glad you consider us friends, Chris. I think you’re great, and I hope we’re friends for a long time.”

He tried to contain his disappointment, nodding his head as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Walking you up to the front door, both of the receptionists made a point of fawning dramatically over the flowers in your arms as you signed back in, exactly an hour later and perfectly on time for the end of your lunch break, but with a lot more joy and a rejuvenation for the work you were doing, enough to carry you through the rest of your day.

Standing at the elevator and waiting for it to arrive, his cheeks were warm enough as it was, the attention you were getting front he not-so-discreet spying of the receptionists making him even more nervous, but if Angie and Clara were watching then that's their choice, because he didn’t have much left to lose, now.

Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he made sure that you were looking at him, a soft and shy smile on your lips as he thumbs smoothed over your skin, trying to reassure you without using words. “Chin up, sweetheart. You’re gonna’ be just fine, okay?”

“Okay, Chris.” You nodded your head, words whispered as you agreed with him, and when he pulled you a little closer, you tipped your head to meet him, his lips pressing to your forehead in a tender kiss, his heart leaping in his chest as you did. The elevator dinged, and he snapped away from you, both of you lingering for a moment longer, something unspoken laying between you, but it was broken as a colleague stepped out of the box, excusing himself as he squeezed past you, and the moment was over.

Waving goodbye, he wiggled his fingers in response to you, and he took a moment to himself to steady his racing heart once the doors had closed with you inside. He bid his farewell to the two women ogling him with wide eyes from behind the desk, trying not to let his nervousness show, to be confident like Mark had taught him to be, and it lasted all the way to the car, before he broke it with a ragged sigh and a little cheer to himself, immediately dialling his best friend on the car’s phone as he pulled out of the parking lot.

It was the kind eyes of Angie that met him as he stepped into the building, palms sweating a little and a shake to his breath, and the flowers in his arms were practically vibrating with nerves as he approached the front desk. Placing them down on the glass surface, she admired them quietly, taking a look at them all before he was being offered the candy dish that she usually had hidden, and he took a peppermint gratefully, red and green swirls along it through the clear wrapping, the festive theme of the late December days was shining through.

“Only the one bouquet this time?”

“They, uh, they aren’t for Mr McKinley.” He mumbled, unwrapping the hard sweet and shoving it wrapped into his pocket, placing the treat on his tongue and sucking on it lightly for something to do, sweetened mint flavours exploding over his senses.

“Oh, so these are a pretty bouquet for our lovely (Y/N), then?”

He could only nod, wondering absently whether or not sweat was beginning to physically show through his shirt, and just how fast his heart was going, because he felt like he was about to pass out. “I think she’s in a meeting right now, but I can get them sent up for her, if that works for you, my dear?”

“Can I just go and drop them off in her office? It’ll make a nice surprise for her to come back to.”

She considered it for a moment, mulling over the security risk and all other options, and he was ready to give up, before she eventually agreed. “Alright, but only if you tell me about the flowers. She’s been telling me all about the pretty bouquet you make with meanings, even showed me your website.”

“She did? She does?”

Pride flushed through his system at that knowledge, and Angie seemed to pick up on it, her face cracking in an even wider smile. “Yes, and they were all beautiful, but I don’t remember this set on there.”

“It’s new, I made it. It’s a personal one, I suppose.”

“It got a name, yet?” He mulled it over, staring down at the pretty bunch in his hands. Dark shades of blue and black, splashes of purple that were speckled with white, and he decided it resembled the night sky rather nicely.

“What do you think of ‘Starry Night’?”

“Very fitting.” She confirmed, and his heart managed to slow a little in his chest as at least one thing on his to-do list became sorted. “So, blue roses, but what are the rest?”

“They would be black pansies and gypsophila.” She hummed, continuing to fix him with that curious gaze, and he knew that wasn't going to cut it. “The blue roses are for mystery, and gaining the impossible. I dye them myself. Black pansies mean broken love, which, I guess isn’t totally suitable here, but combined with the gypsophila, it’s more like the chance of a new beginning, and not necessarily unrequited feelings.”

“You really like her, huh?”

“That obvious?” He grinned, knowing that his feelings may as well be lit up with a neon sign above his head. “You’ll get them to her after her meeting, then?”

“Of course, I will.” She took them over the desk, writing down a memo on her notepad so that she didn't forget, and he watched as the pretty bundle was carried away. “Did you leave a card, or do you want to write a note?”

“Just tell her to text me if she likes them?” She beamed, nodding her head, and he backed away, turning on his heel, a little disappointed that he didn’t get to give them to you himself, but simultaneously relieved at the fact, because he could feel his pulse racing right to the tips of his fingers with how intense it was.

You’d clearly had a busy day, because it wasn’t until Chris was shutting up shop that he finally felt his phone buzz, doing his last check over of all the systems and machines, when a text from you came in, diverting every ounce of attention that he had.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] so, do these flowers have a hidden meaning, or did you just put them together because they look good?

He grinned at his phone, shaking his head slightly as a laugh left his lips, and he leaned on the wall, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he thought out his response.

> a little bit of both.

It was a few minutes before you replied, this time, a photograph coming through, of you carrying your flower out of the building, setting off towards the elevators from your office, if he was depicting the background correctly.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to google it?

He paused, not quite having got that far, and the relief of not having to explain his feelings or you before had drowned out the fact that he’d have to tell you at some point, and his heart was leaping into his throat.

He gave himself a minute, checking over the locks and windows to make sure everything was sealed up, setting the thermostat and setting the alarm, not yet activating it, but making sure that everything was done, right down to holding his keys for the main door in his hands. Locking up the building, he sealed down the metal guard, triple checking the padlock, and making his way to the car.

Engine on, heaters up, his lights being the last to flood the parking lot as he tried to man up, before finally bringing back up the unopened message, taking the notifications and opening his texts.

> long story short, I’m trying to ask you out. using flowers, because words normally fail me in times of importance.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand over his face and just hoping that it was acceptable, his phone buzzing before he’d even managed to start up the car property for his journey home. His hand hovered over where it was laying on the passenger seat, considering whether or not to pick it up, before forcing down his nerves and reaching for it.

[stardust 🌌 ✨] friday night work for you?

He stared at the message for a few seconds, confirming that they were real, and he wasn’t just making it up because it’s what he wanted to read, before letting out a loud and victorious set of cheers for only him to ever know about.

> I’ll pick you up from your work at 5.

Chris was sitting in one of the white leather chairs that had been scattered around the lobby, shifting slightly awkwardly, nerves getting the best of him. He knew you wouldn't stand him up, but as the clock ticked over past 5:10 PM, he worried a little that you were trying to find a way to let him down, having decided that you’d changed your mind on wanting to go out with him, and he tried to steady his nerves.

Brushing over the flowers in his hands, he adjusted his grip on them a little, not wanting the plastic to become damp with his sweaty palms, and swallowing thickly again. Finally, the elevator doors chimed, and he let out a nervous sigh, taking a deep breath and sliding his eyes shut as he calmed himself down, certain that his heart no longer had a rhythm and was just beating erratically and rapidly like the seismograph in a disaster movie.

Twisting his head a little, he let out a deep breath, watching as you came toward him, looking far more casual than he had ever seen you ever had before. Jeans and jumper, a striped scarf that looked suspiciously handmade in the sweetest of ways, and sneakers on your feet instead of heels, dropping your height down by a few inches, and he was so used to looking straight at you, never needing to look down, that it caught him a little by surprise.

“I’m sorry I’m late!” You looked a little flushed, sounded slightly out of breath, and he realised you must’ve been rushing, not stalling, and he felt a little calmer at that thought. Placing down the flowers on the chairs, he stood up properly, letting out a slow breath.

“Don’t worry about it. You look beautiful.”

“I thought I’d change, heels and pencil skirts are great for work, but not so comfy for a first date.” There was a bag on your arm, which he assumed your business-wear was stuffed in, and he gave himself a moment to take you in. He liked you better this way, you looked more like yourself, the version of you that he knew you to be from hours of late-night calls and texting, weeks of getting to know one another, both in-person and via messages, and the formal outfits he was so used to seeing you in were just a cover for the real you.

He realised he’d been staring too long, jumping slightly in his panic, before turning away and grabbing the bundle that he’d brought with him. “I brought you flowers. Not as special as normal guys, since I own the flower shop and it's not the first time, but I did create this bouquet design just for you.”

“I think it’s pretty special.” Your words were whispered, taking the bundle of flowers and bringing them into yourself to admire delicately, a combination of red and white roses, with green bells peppered throughout. “Okay, so, let me guess on this one.”

He only nodded his head, watching as you considered the bundle, licking over your lower lip and taking it hostage between your teeth as your thoughts whirled before his very eyes.

“White roses are innocence, right? Seems fitting for a first date. Red roses are romance, of course.” You smirked a little then, glancing up at him through your lashes, and he grinned, feeling totally at ease now that he was under your gaze. “What about the green ones?”

“Green bells. They’re for good luck.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll need any luck, you’ve pretty much already got me wrapped around your little finger, Chris Beck.” You adjusted the flowers in your arms, taking his hand with your other one, and lacing your fingers together, and he squeezed back in security as heat flooded over his face in a warm blush. “However, I do think it’s sweet, so I’ll accept it.”

“I wanted to do something Christmassy for you, but I didn’t want to go with any of the typical ones. Holly, mistletoe, poinsettia, they didn’t feel unique enough.”

“I don’t know, I think mistletoe can be good.” You leaned in a little, his brows raising slightly as your wide smile dimmed down, the humour of the moment changing, and his free hand found your waist, fingers playing with yours on the other, and he pulled you a little closer, taking the hint that you were laying down.

“Maybe just this once.” He teased, nose bumping against your own, and he could still taste the sweet honey on your breath from the herbal teas you were always concocting, warm breath shared between you. As your head twisted to close the gap, he became acutely aware of the lingering feeling of not being alone, the both of you jumping and snapping apart a little when the loud crashing of a mug on the floor sounded out loudly.

Two sets of voices cursing followed it, Angie’s and Clara’s heads both ducking down behind the desk as they looked at the mess on the floor, and his jaw dropped as he released the two had been watching on eagerly this whole time, and he’d been so wrapped up in you that he hadn't realised there’d been an audience all along.

He would’ve been embarrassed, had it not been for the way your face pressed into his shoulder as you tried to contain your laughs, and he found the amusement in it too, his arm slipping around your waist as he matched your laugher, shaking his head as he watched the two women try and clear up the split coffee and smashed mug.

“Hey, ladies, I’ll see you Monday!”

The popped back up, sheepish looks on their faces as they nodded, and he gave them both a little wave, letting you tug him along by the hand that was still connected to your own, towards the open doorway of the building, a chill rolling in. As you stepped out, a chill took over, and his hand slipped from yours to sliding around your waist instead, pulling you closer to him, and you guided him over to where your car was parked, and he was more than happy to simply follow.

“So, what do you have planned?”

“I thought something a little more relaxed would be fun. How do you feel about a tree lighting ceremony, and some street food?” You curled into him a little more, a happy sigh leaving you.

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Unlocking the car, he let you go, long enough to put your back in the trunk and lay your flowers out on the front seat, locking it back up as you deemed yourself ready to go. “Ready to go?”

“Yes, but just one thing, first. Something I’ve been waiting weeks for.”

His brows raised, lips parting to ask you waist it was, but your hand latched onto the front of his shirt, tugging him forward as you leaned up, and he groaned a little, a soft sound but vibrating through him as your mouth closed over his, soft and warm, lips pressing together, and a shock ran along his entire body. His hand slipped to your waist, one cupping your cheek as he pulled you a little closer, pressing you back into the car as your bodies came flush up together, and he felt like his legs were going to give out underneath him as you sighed out against his mouth, a breathy moan carried with it.

Twisting his head to the side, he barely pulled back for breath before he was diving right back into you, more confident and passionate this time with his movements. He took control, feeling the way you sagged into his hands as he did, lips working with yours in an intimate dance of their own making, slow and teasing movements, before finally he was pulling away, just far enough to press his forehead to your own as the two of you panted lightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Worth the wait?” He mused, feeling your breathless giggle wash over his lips, before you were leaning up just enough to peck his lips once more, and his lips were still pouted, chasing after you as you backed away for a second, before he was licking over them and cracking his eyes open to look at the adoring expression on your face.

“Definitely worth the wait.”

#chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck/reader #chris beck the martian #sebastian stan chris beck #sebastian stan the martian #sebastian stan #Seb Stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/reader #12 Days of AUmas

[fizzychocolatemilk]

The Sun Prince, the Huntsman, and a Cottage in the Woods (Prologue Part 3)

Hi! I know it’s really late, but I finally finished the first chapter! The AO3 link is  here. But this is the final installation of the prologue! Enjoy!

His tutor was strict and unforgiving, yelling at him for every mistake, which caused Katsuki to hate both them and the things they were teaching him with the petty passion that only a pre-teen could have. But finally after completing months of etiquette training and diplomacy tutoring, Katsuki finally met the Trinity for the first time at the age of 13. 

He was not impressed.

The Todorokis were obnoxious and strangely tense and the Togas were downright crazy. Especially his fiancee, Toga Himiko. She was only a couple years older than him, but the gleam in her eyes when they were set on him made a cold shiver travel up his spine. Invisible spiders crawled across his skin at her touch, so he had taken to calling her witch in his head. 

“Katsu-chan~ Where are you, my sweet? We have our first date today!”

Doing what any reasonable person would do at the voice of their crazy witch of a fiancee, Katsuki turned and ran. He knew the palace like the back of his hand, so he expertly maneuvered through the twisting hallways before stealing into one of the smaller libraries. He hid in a covertly placed alcove, one that he had skirked his responsibilities in many times before. Finally, he let out a small sigh and relaxed a little, deeming the threat gone...for now.

“Hello.”

Katsuki nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned to face the intruder. “What the fuck are you doing here, Candy Cane?” Katsuki aggressively whispered at Shouto Todoroki, the youngest (and most tolerable...not that Katsuki would ever tell him that) of the Todorokis.

Shouto blinked at Katsuki before responding, “Hiding. You’re doing the same, right?”

Katsuki scowled, “What the fuck do you have to hide from?”

“My father. I thought it was obvious.”

Katsuki’s face lost its tension, and the two princes sat in silence. That day Shouto and Katsuki formed a friendship out of solidarity for each other, and Katsuki was pulled even deeper into his despair when he heard that Shouto had disappeared several weeks later.

Izuku took his first solo hunting trip a couple of months before he turned 13. He had become a scarily accurate shot very quickly by spending every available second from dawn to dusk practicing with the bow. He could outshoot most of the adults in his village, so he was deemed ready for his first solo trip. His mother had packed his rucksack for him, hugged him a bit too tightly, and wished him luck. The worry was clear on her face, but Izuku knew that she trusted him. He was determined to not disappoint her.

The first night, he set up camp in a small glade. He had spent the day setting up different kinds of hand-made traps designed to catch rabbits and squirrels. The next day, he would spend time tracking larger animals, like stag and boar, that he could kill himself. As he settled down to sleep, he gazed at the unobstructed view of the universe above him and thought of the days he would spend hand-in-hand with another boy, watching the stars. His dreams were of gold-winged angels, bonfires, and children’s laughter.

In the morning, Izuku checked and reset the traps before following some deer tracks he saw near his campsite. As he moved further into the forest, the smell of woodsmoke and freshly cut berries began to creep towards him. His brow furrowed. He was in the middle of the forest. The next village was in the complete opposite direction. Who could be out here cooking so early in the morning?

He abandoned the tracks, and crept silently in the direction of the smell. As it got stronger, his stomach growled, reminding Izuku that he had forgotten to eat that morning. He drank some water from his canteen in hopes of quieting his stomach, and soon he crept upon a clearing with a strange sight. There was a tall cottage of white plaster with a thatched roof and several additions of various materials that made it look like an amalgamation of several different houses instead of just one. A stone and iron oven stood outside the cottage, smoke rising out of its chimney.

And then Izuku saw them. A man with long, ebony hair pulled back with a sky blue ribbon embroidered with clouds was cooking on a shallow metal bowl that had been placed over the fire. He was surrounded by several interesting characters: a boy with vibrant red hair and sharp teeth like a mountain lion, a girl that had the horns of a stag but with unnaturally pink skin, a stoic young man with bi-colored hair, and a blonde boy that looked as if he had been struck by lightning. There were several other less outrageous looking people too and most of them looked to be around Izuku’s age, but Izuku was cautious. He watched them silently for a few more moments, listening to their teasing banter and joviality, before he was spotted.

The girl had hair the color of midnight with small white flowers that had been braided in. She stared at him and Izuku could see the intelligence in her slate colored eyes. They judged each other for a few minutes before the girl nodded at Izuku, and he emerged from his hiding spot in the brush.

“Umm...hello,” Izuku awkwardly greeted the odd bunch.

The girl who spotted him smiled warmly at him, as the others turned to judge the intruder. The red-head, the stag girl, the lightning boy, and another boy with oddly shaped elbows that Izuku hadn’t noticed from his spot smiled at him, while the man studied him with calculating eyes. The man glanced at his garb (green and brown to blend into the surrounding forest) and his bow before raising an eyebrow at him.

Izuku gulped at the intimidating figure the man pulled with just an expression before he started rambling, “I was tracking a deer nearby...and I smelled the food. I was wondering who was out here when the nearest villages are miles in the other direction. So I just followed the smell and here I am. I’m Midoriya, by the way.”

“Aizawa,” the man introduced himself. “We live out here by choice. We’re outcasts, wanderers, magicians, fae, people in search of a safe place and a family. Are you going to threaten that safety, Midoriya?”

Izuku shook his head quickly before bowing to the group. “NEVER! I didn’t mean to impose on you with my curiosity! I apologize and be on my way.”

That’s when the rest of the group jumped in. “It’s not an imposition, man! I’m Kirishima.” The red-head grinned at him.

The stag girl flounced over to him and dragged him closer to the group. “Ei is right! We always welcome new faces! I’m Mina! I’m a fae, but I’m super nice!”

“It’d be a bit hypocritical if we turned someone away. I’m Kaminari!” The lightning boy introduced himself as he patted the seat next to him for Izuku to take.

The rest of the group introduced themselves, and Izuku was welcomed into their little band. He stayed the night that night, and after his trip was over he made a point to visit as often as he could. They weren’t the golden hair of his childhood memories, but they were something just as good—a family.

#The Sun Prince & the Huntsman #bakudeku #bkdk #bakudeku fanfic #bkdk fic #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #toga himiko #yaoyorozu momo #kirishima eijiro #ashido mina #kaminari denki #sero hanta #aizawa shouta #fizzy's fics