#don’t just come up and ask me for a white chocolate peppermint mocha
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winter’s warmth
genre: coffeeshop!au | fluff | winter holiday vibes
featuring: NCT’s Taeyong
word count: 4,408 words
a/n: a short reworked old idea before the end of the year lol still alive and kicking! happy holidays and merry christmas to those who celebrate and here’s to a good year ahead ❤️💚
8am, the start of your usual morning lineup.
Prepare today’s daily brew of coffee, set down chairs and wipe the tables clean, arrange pastries on the display… the tasks feel never-ending. But with your coworker’s help (who arrived right when you were sweeping the floor) everything was ready five minutes before 9am. Just in time for him to whip up a drink for himself and the first regular.
“I hope today’s going to be slow,” Johnny mutters under his breath while collecting payment from the business man for his decaf and BLT sandwich to-go. “I don’t know how I’m still up and about making coffee when I only had five hours of sleep last night.”
“In your dreams,” you scoff, tightening your ponytail. “Toss me a marker?”
Adding the finishing touches to the whiteboard by the front register, you nod in satisfaction at the finished listings of the annual winter drinks and return to more disgruntled mutters from Johnny.
“Would anyone order any of the holiday drinks when it’s not even December yet?”
“Well, here’s some advertising for them!” You swivel the whiteboard around, smiling in satisfaction at the neatly written letters for peppermint hot chocolate, eggnog latte, cinnamon nutmeg spiced coffee and a sea-salt caramel mocha (last but not the least on the winter menu).
“I haven’t practiced making the winter drinks yet,” he remarks, “So you’re in charge of those if anyone orders them.”
“Sure.”
Soon after, a young woman enters the cafe and points curiously at the cinnamon nutmeg spiced coffee, asking if she can have the coffee changed to a spiced hot chocolate instead.
—
“You up for that extra drink by the sink?”
Your eyes widen in surprise at the iced vanilla latte sitting by the faucet. “Did you mess up and make an extra?”
“It was ordered along with an iced Americano but my friend forgot to take it. I called him to come get it, but it doesn’t look like he will.”
Handing you the drink, Johnny grins as you take a sip.
“That’s yours now. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to touch your saliva after you drank from that straw.”
“Don’t mind if I do then.”
“Then you also wouldn’t mind closing up right?”
You give him the “ok” and he skirts out of the cafe as quick as lightning. Shaking your head in disapproval at his eagerness to leave, you begin stacking up the chairs onto the tables that he had at least remembered to wipe down before leaving.
Midway through closing, the chime of the silver bells you had made Johnny tie by the front door for festivity catches your attention.
“You idiot, did you forget—”
You close your mouth once you turn around, the figure at the doorway not Johnny. Your hand slips and you wince when the chair leg bangs against your elbow before tumbling down onto the black-and-white tiled floor.
“Sorry,” you utter quickly, picking up the chair and setting it back up. “Can I help you?”
The man standing by the doorway runs a hand through his ash gray hair, eyes shifting before settling on the half empty drink on top of the pastry display.
“It’s nothing,” comes the quiet murmur. “I just thought Johnny would still be here.”
“He left early, but maybe you can come again tomorrow for a drink?”
His eyes flickering towards the fallen chair, he shakes his head and a thoughtful expression creeps onto his face. Reading the silence, you pick up the chair and stack it back onto its rightful place on top of the table.
“Did you forget something here?”
Another shake of his head, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his gray coat. This time he turns to leave without another word; only the faint jingle ever indicated someone had stopped by during closing time.
Weirdo.
—
“Can I get an iced Americano?”
Your ears perk up at the familiar voice. Looking up from the register, you recognize the guy who had come in after hours yesterday and offer a wave.
“Hey,” you say with a grin as Johnny rings up his order. “Did you get what you needed from Johnny?”
Said guy points a finger at your elbow instead of answering your question.
“Was that from the chair yesterday?”
You glance at the bandaid on your right elbow and shrug. “Dunno. But I scraped my elbow when I was on my way here.”
“You two know each other?” Johnny butts in, handing you a plastic cup. “Since when?”
“Since yesterday. Is he your friend, Johnny?”
“Me and Taeyong have been friends for quite some time now.”
You introduce yourself before adding two shots of espresso into the empty cup. Cold water follows and the drink is topped with ice and a mint leaf. Taeyong watches the entire process curiously, taken aback when you hand him the drink without a lid.
“Can I get a lid for that?”
You freeze, shaking your head at such a rookie mistake. “Sorry, here you go.”
“Thanks.”
“I usually give lids with drinks,” you begin, attempting to mend the awkward situation. “They’re usually sent out without the risk of spilling.”
He laughs, a soft sound that offsets his initial intimidating aura.
He’s cute.
“Is this your first time here?” you continue, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“It’s my first time getting a drink from someone other than Johnny.”
He takes a sip of the iced Americano, eyes widening.
“Does it taste bad?” you ask worriedly when you spot the change in expression. “I can make it again if you want.”
“No, it’s… really good. Better than what Johnny makes.”
“I heard that!”
“Oh, thank goodness,” you sigh, tuning out Johnny’s loud complaining as your hands reach for the next order slip. “I thought you were going to throw up because it tastes bad.”
A soft chuckle and your heart flutters at seeing the blooming smile on Taeyong’s chiseled face.
“I’ll… come again,” he murmurs. “For your drink.”
—
December 25th inches closer and closer as the demand for winter drinks heightens, and you find yourself making the winter specials a lot more than the usuals. While you still juggle the regular decafs and lattes along with the peppermint hot chocolate (your favorite winter drink to make), Johnny starts to complain about being stuck with making the sea-salt caramel mocha, claiming that it was his worst and questioning why anyone would choose to add salt to caramel.
“I always add too much salt,” he groans, handing off a hot lemon tea. “Then the customer complains and I have to remake it at least three times before it’s satisfactory.”
“You would know when to stop adding salt if you paid more attention to what you’re doing,” you reply in kind from your spot by the oven. Keeping an eye on the butter croissant inside, you open the oven door after it finishes heating up and place it in a paper bag, handing it to the boy standing next to the girl with lemon tea. “It’s not hard.”
“Do you expect me to count every single granule, Your Highness?”
“Of course not. Just be aware of when you’re putting too much, that’s all.”
“Is Taeyong coming?” you asked casually, hands already reaching for the espresso while awaiting Johnny’s answer.
“I’m not his mother,” Johnny scowls, clearly still peeved at your telling off. “He doesn’t usually tell me when he chooses to stop by.”
Huffing, you prepare the iced Americano anyway and watch the door as the jingling of bells brings in a new wave of customers. None of them Taeyong, you sigh and take over on the register while Johnny refills coffee beans into one of the machines that held today’s brew: French roast. Taeyong had stayed true to his word and stopped by every day, always ordering the same iced Americano and specifying for you to make it for him each time. Even when you were on register, he’d still ask for you because “you make it better than Johnny does”, which pleased you greatly. Not only was Taeyong a regular now, he’d also make small talk while you worked, sometimes even leaving behind chocolates on the counter for you to eat after picking up his drink. Usually there’s enough for you to share, but you never do. Not that Johnny would ask, but it was never a topic of bargain for chocolates.
Especially not for the ones Taeyong would leave behind.
“You’re fond of Taeyong, aren’t you?”
“What, no,” you deny, not understanding where the sudden question had come from. Pulling the order slip from the machine, you glance over the customer’s order and hold back a snicker. “One large sea-salt caramel mocha, Johnny, let’s go.”
“Not again,” Johnny grumbles. “You make this one.”
“Sure thing. Watch how the professional does it.”
“And you like him,” Johnny repeats, crossing his arms in satisfaction at successfully handing off the order. “You like Taeyong.”
You roll your eyes at the baseless claim. “He’s a regular and I’ve become used to seeing him, that’s all.”
“Yeah, yeah,” your coworker teases, “Used to seeing his face and wanting to kiss him. I’ve seen you staring at his lips when he drinks your iced—”
“One iced Americano please.”
Ears perking up, you practically shove Johnny aside and grin widely at seeing Taeyong standing before you.
“Are you okay?” Taeyong asks curiously. “You look… out of breath.”
“Oh, I’m… I’m fine.” You throw a dirty glance at Johnny and thankfully he is smart enough to remain silent on the teasing.
“Here,” you smile, setting down the iced Americano you had made prior to his arrival. “I already had your drink ready in case you were in a rush or something.”
“Oh.” He looks strangely disappointed as he takes the drink from you. “Thanks.”
“Something wrong?” you ask, noticing the sudden pout on Taeyong’s face and trying to not remark on how cute he looks doing so.
“No, I’m… I’m not in a rush.”
“I just thought you’d want your drink immediately so I made it ahead of time. If it tastes watered down because of the melted ice, I can always remake—”
“What… What’s your favorite drink?”
His question catches you off guard and you reiterate to make sure you had heard properly.
“Like… favorite coffee drink or favorite drink in general?”
“Favorite coffee drink.”
“Um… I guess iced vanilla lattes are my favorite.”
“Okay.”
“Want to hear a secret?” you suddenly murmur in a hushed voice. “I just remembered about it.”
“Sure.”
Beckoning him away from the register, you lean over the counter and recall the instance of the forgotten vanilla latte.
“It was on the day you stopped by after hours. Someone ordered a vanilla latte but forgot it here and I got to have it. I’m pretty sure Johnny would’ve drank it since he was the one who found it, but he’s not too fond of vanilla lattes so I got to finish it instead.”
“That… That’s good, right?” Taeyong chimes thoughtfully. “Being able to drink your favorite coffee?”
“Mhm.” You smile at remembering the unexpected pick-me-up. “It’ll be nice if I had one to drink after work since I’m usually really tired when we close up shop, but what are the chances someone would forget their drink again after already forgetting it once?”
A smile tugging at his lips, Taeyong takes another sip of the Americano and places down a handful of wrapped chocolates. Your eyes light up like Christmas had come early, hands quickly stuffing all of them into the pocket of your uniform before Johnny notices.
“I can bring more tomorrow if you’d like.”
“I really like chocolate,” you admit, already unwrapping a chocolate and popping it into your mouth. “But if I’m to be completely honest, I think I like you more than chocolate.”
“You like me?” Taeyong echoes, turning to you in surprise. “You like me more than chocolate?”
Realization dawns and your face warms, heat rivaling the flickering flames of a holiday fireplace. Embarrassed, you quickly head towards the storeroom in the back, yelling at Johnny that you needed to get more tea leaves.
“What on earth was that,” Johnny chuckles, returning change to an old lady who came every afternoon for earl grey tea. “I just got out a bag of tea leaves.”
—
“Today’s drink.”
“Who keeps forgetting to get their drinks?” you exclaim, taking the cup from Johnny. “I’m grateful for the extra pick-me-up after a long day of work but it feels like I’m ripping off the cafe by drinking a customer’s order.”
“Don’t worry, it’s paid for. You’re not getting that for free.”
“This,” you sputter, opening the lid and spitting out what you have in your mouth. “This is not a vanilla latte!”
Johnny peers into your cup. “You don’t like eggnog?”
You make a face. “I hate eggnog.”
“You never told me you didn’t like eggnog.”
“That’s because I would never get it for myself, so I didn’t feel the need to mention it.”
He takes the eggnog latte from you and tosses it into the trash.
“What’s your favorite, then? From the winter menu.”
You reach into your pocket, only to come up empty-handed of any chocolate. Must’ve eaten it all yesterday when you were waiting for Johnny at the mall after some last-minute gift shopping.
“Peppermint hot chocolate. Johnny, hand me the peppermint extract.”
“You’re going to make hot chocolate now? Our shift ended an hour ago.”
“It won’t take too long,” you promise, thanking him for the peppermint extract. “I need the peppermint to wash out the taste of lingering eggnog on my tongue.”
“Make me some too.”
Ten minutes later, a cup of steaming hot chocolate topped with frothy whipped cream makes its way in front of Johnny and a sigh of contentment escapes from his mouth after only one sip.
“I now understand why customers always order the peppermint hot chocolate.”
You grin at hearing his compliment. “Thanks.”
“You…” He gestures to your nose. “You have some whipped cream on your nose.”
Lifting a finger, you rub the dollop of whipped cream off your nose and lick it off your finger.
“I should tell him your favorite is the hot chocolate,” Johnny mutters. “That way he doesn’t have to order the vanilla latte every single day.”
Your sharp hearing picks up Johnny’s words and you look at him in surprise.
“You know who’s been leaving behind the extra vanilla latte?”
“N-No,” he stammers quickly. “H-How would I know when there’s so many people here every day?”
Narrowing your eyes, you pick up a candy cane from the tin sitting by the coffee lids and point it menacingly his direction.
“Johnny Seo, who has been ordering extra vanilla lattes and leaving them for me every day?”
“It’s someone you know,” he grumbles. “And don’t poke me with that.”
You drop the candy cane back to its original spot. “I don’t…?”
“Oh, you definitely know this person.”
Mind blank, the confusion couldn’t have been more clear on your face.
“…I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head.”
“You’ll find out who he is tomorrow,” Johnny finishes, handing you his empty cup. “Now let’s wrap up; I need to go home and sleep for the hell that is tomorrow’s shift.”
—
The jingle on the front door never stopped once on Christmas Day. Couple after couple entering the café and lining up to order drinks, you and Johnny easily enter conveyor belt mode: Johnny taking down orders and lining up cups as you work on the coffee machines and make all the drinks. Occasionally there is a switch when the coffee machines ran low so he can go right into making drinks after refilling the coffee beans, you moving to register and managing any requests for pastries while taking new drink orders. Mornings are tougher when a lot of regulars also stopped by for their usual in addition to the seasonal wave of customers, but you eventually gain momentum and power through.
It’s especially more tolerable when you and Johnny unanimously decide to close the shop for two hours of lunch since the afternoons were usually a bit slower.
“Why not take advantage and use some of that time for ourselves?”, he had pointed out as he brought back takeout from the Japanese restaurant two blocks down. “We deserve some holiday relaxation too.”
—
“Johnny, that’s too much whipped cream,” you warn, right hand jotting down an order for a large white chocolate mocha, the clock on the wall reading 4pm. “It’s going to spill over the lid and—”
“Fuck,” he mutters, the dollop of white spilling over and staining his fingers. “Hold on.”
Wiping the extra cream off on his apron, Johnny quickly hands the customer her drink and wishes her a “Merry Christmas” before turning to grab the next cup. A whistle of relief tickles your ears when he sees the next item to make.
“Finally, something for me to make that isn’t sea salt caramel.”
“No milk,” you hiss in exasperation, kneeling to the extra inventory kept underneath the work station and emerging with an unopened carton of milk. “How are the teas?”
“Plenty of tea leaves left.”
“Excuse me,” a soft voice sounds, “Can I get a—”
“I’ll be right with you,” you call out to the next customer, pouring out the appropriate amount of milk for the white chocolate mocha and heating it up before returning to the register, pleasantly surprised to see the familiar face.
“You look busy,” Taeyong comments, glossing over your slightly disheveled look. “Hopefully you got to have a break?”
“Always busy when it’s Christmas,” you sigh, keeping one eye on the milk. “Apparently coffee dates are becoming more and more popular. I’ll have your iced Americano ready in a bit.”
“I actually—”
“Johnny, stop going overboard with the whipped cream!” you yell, running to grab the milk once it’s done. “It’s the seventh time now!”
Your coworker swears at the mountain of whipped cream on his finished creation, overflow accompanied by a string of profanity that hopefully the customers don’t overhear.
“I’m trying not to but I can’t help it!”
Squirting white chocolate syrup into the plastic cup, you fill it up with espresso and add the steamed milk last, snatching the can of whipped cream from Johnny. He scowls at your demonstration of a “more than adequate amount” cream on top before grabbing the drink back and putting a lid on it before give to the customer.
“Y/N,” Taeyong starts, “I—”
“Oh my god, your drink, I completely forgot!”
“I want… to order something else,” he speaks up before you rush for the espresso again. “Along with the Americano.”
“Something else?” you pipe up, nodding to the couple next in line and handing them a bag filled with Christmas cookies baked just for today’s sales.
“Yes, I… I’d like to get a peppermint hot chocolate.”
You quirk an eyebrow up in surprise. The Taeyong you knew had only ever ordered iced Americanos, occasionally a chocolate croissant if he was in the mood for something to eat. He never ordered anything that deviated from what he usually got, let alone something on the winter menu.
“Peppermint hot chocolate,” you echo, not quite believing what you had heard and needing the extra confirmation from his own mouth. “One peppermint hot chocolate and one iced Americano?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “A peppermint hot chocolate along with the iced Americano.”
“Got it,” you answer, already getting to work on those drinks while your mind processes what had just happened. “It’ll be ready in a few.”
“I’ll leave the hot chocolate for you after it’s done.”
You whip up the iced Americano in a matter of minutes and didn’t hear that last part as your hands reach for the peppermint extract and final can of whipped cream in stock, all attention currently focused on lecturing Johnny for adding too much cinnamon into the cinnamon nutmeg coffee. It was just like Johnny to upset the balance that made it cinnamon nutmeg spiced coffee and not solely cinnamon coffee.
—
7:30pm, and the two of you sigh in relief once the last customer exits the café with a eggnog latte in hand. Fatigue stung directly to the bones, but it is worth seeing an empty cafe ten minutes before closing time in addition to the overflowing tip jar.
“Hey, Johnny, why is there a drink here?”
You point towards the lone cup sitting on the counter next to the napkins and Johnny shrugs.
“Beats me,” Johnny replies, getting up from his seat on your shared table to start counting the money in the tip jar. “Do you want to drink it?”
You head over to inspect the forgotten drink, unsure on what the drink is until you open the lid and smell the faint trail of peppermint.
“Cold hot chocolate is gross,” you grimace, regretfully tossing the cold drink out. “Sure would like an iced vanilla latte though.”
“I thought the peppermint hot chocolate was your favorite.”
You turn around and nearly scream when you spot the gray-haired figure standing behind you.
“Dude, when did you come in?” Johnny laughs, handing you a white envelope with your share of today’s tips. “Scared the crap out of the both of us.”
You take the envelope from Johnny and tuck it in the back pocket of your jeans, unsure why Taeyong was here after hours. Déjà vu, much—especially when he wore the exact same gray coat from when you first met him.
Luckily, the latter is the first to break the brief period of silence.
“Johnny said the peppermint hot chocolate was your favorite.”
“Yes, I did tell him that,” you begin warily. “What’s it gotta do with you?”
“Did… Did you not drink the hot chocolate I ordered?” Taeyong’s lips curve to a pout. “I purposely left it there so that you would have it.”
“You purposely left—” Memories of an extra iced vanilla latte lying around suddenly flash in your mind and you laugh awkwardly at finally piecing the pieces together after so long.
“Taeyong, you… don’t tell me you’re also the idiot who kept forgetting their drink after paying for it all last week.”
He doesn’t look at you, interest fixated on the tin of candy canes on the counter.
“Can I take one?”
“Yeah, of course.”
You couldn’t help but cover your face in your hands as Taeyong unwraps a candy cane, his deflection endearing while you wallow in your self-induced embarrassment.
“Why didn’t you tell me back then that you had come to get your drink?” you blurt out, letting out a deep sigh before running a hand through your hair to ease your nerves. “I could’ve just made a new one for you.”
“I couldn’t,” Taeyong answers with a knowing glance. “Not when you had already drunk from it.”
“And you said it’ll be nice if you had a vanilla latte to drink after work,” he added quietly. “So I took it upon myself to buy you one each day to make you happy.”
“This dumbass here asks you to make his drink so you don’t see him pay for your latte,” Johnny chimes in, unwrapping a candy cane for himself. “And since I didn’t know you hated eggnog, that’s what I told him you would like when he asked what winter drink you liked.”
“Don’t call him a dumbass,” you snap at Johnny, kicking his foot harder than needed. “He was just trying to be nice!���
“Now’s the best chance to ask my annoying coworker out on a date, Taeyong.”
You glare at Johnny and the latter pretends to not see it, excusing himself to leave the floor open for you to sort things out with his friend.
Taeyong smiles at the opening and extends a hand. “I was actually going to ask if you’d like to watch a movie with me after your shift ended. The theater is showing A Christmas Carol and I thought it’d be perfect since today is Christmas.”
“You already bought tickets,” you note, spying the two slips of paper in his right hand. “Bold move.”
“Well I wasn’t expecting you to reject me,” he chuckles. “Since I kind of like you and was thinking you felt the same way.”
“I’m going to need something to drink before I go out with you.” Your eyes shift towards the whiteboard with the winter menu written on it. “I’ve been working nonstop all day.”
The door towards the backroom swings open and Johnny proceeds to stare openly after hearing Taeyong’s request to make you a peppermint hot chocolate.
“Johnny, can you make a peppermint hot chocolate? I’ll pay.”
You shake your head, grinning as you reach a hand over the counter and show Taeyong the iced vanilla latte in your hand.
“No need, I’ve already got the best drink right here!”
“Right,” Taeyong murmurs, fiddling with the buttons on his gray coat. “You love iced vanilla lattes more than even peppermint hot chocolate.”
“I might be a little hyper later,” you warn, the cup nearly an inch from empty. “If not, then I’d probably crash halfway through. Are you sure you still want to go see the movie?”
“You can sleep on my shoulder if you end up passing out in the theater.”
“And if I don’t wake up even when the lights come on?”
“Then I’ll wake you up with a kiss after crashing from all that coffee.”
“Get out!” Johnny yells, pushing you towards Taeyong. “I need to clean up and I can’t do that when I have two lovebirds being sappy to each other right in my face!”
You quickly grab the rest of your things and exchange a laugh with Taeyong after getting kicked out of the café. He does the same and starts to walk; you unconsciously follow and take a deep breath to confirm if the date is still happening.
“You’re still taking me to the theater, right?” you ask, switching your purse to your left hand to free up your right. “And you mean it when you said you ‘kind of’ like me?”
Taeyong smiles, nodding as he grabs your right hand, sticking it into his coat pocket and squeezing your fingers tightly.
“Yes. I’ve been wanting to ask you out since you told me you liked me more than chocolate.”
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Hey! I just wanted to say I absolutely love reading your Aaron Tveit fics! Not sure if this is something you write about. But could I request a fic with Aaron where he and the reader meet at the Rockefeller Centre? Just fluff no smut please.
Rockefeller Centre
You were sitting on a bench overlooking the skating rink at Rockefeller Centre, clutching your coffee in both hands, trying to warm your body up. You had a red coat that came down to mid-thigh and was cinched at the waist by a belt of the same colour, your white scarf was wrapped firmly around your neck and your ears were feeling the cold air, having forgotten to wear your hat. You were watching the couples skating and you couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy that tugged at your heart; you were absolutely fine with being single but whenever it came to the holidays, you couldn’t help but what someone around to share it with.
You took one hand off of your hot drink and picked your phone up, looking through your messages that you had missed while you were on the skating rink. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone sit next to you and bend down to put on his ice skates.
‘You waiting here for anybody?’ he asked and you looked up from your phone to face the person talking to you. You tried to keep the smile off of your face when you took in his appearance; he had stunning eyes that seemed to constantly have a smile in them and a charming smile that instantly made you want to trust him. He was wearing a grey coat with a checked scarf and a grey hat.
‘No,’ you replied, smiling at him, ‘I’m just trying to warm up a bit before heading back on there,’ you said, gesturing to the skates you were still wearing on your feet.
‘Ahhh, hot chocolate?’ he guessed, pointing to the cup in your hands.
‘Peppermint Mocha,’ you correct, laughing when he exaggerated his “damn it” expression. ‘What about you? Are you waiting for anyone?’
‘Nah, I bring myself here every year, I love looking at the tree and the music.’
‘Same,’ you agreed. You both sat in silence for a second as the guy carried on lacing up his skates and you took a sip from your cup.
‘Got to say, the only think I don’t like about coming here is that it kind of rubs it in my face that I’m still single,’ he said, looking at you out the corner of his eye, trying to gage your reaction.
‘Yeah, I get what you mean,’ you said quietly.
The guy stood up as soon as he was all laced up and he turned to face you, his hand outstretched down to you. ‘Look, I know we’ve only just met each other but I could really do with a friend out on the rink with me? We can blend in with the other couples, make them wish they had a relationship like ours,’ he said overly dramatic.
Something inside of you told you that you would be able to trust this man and taking his hand then and there would be one of the best decisions you would make in your entire life. Grinning up at him and setting your now empty coffee cup on the bench behind you, you took his hand and let him help to pull you up. ‘Why not!’
As you stood and faced him, a small frown worked its way into his face and he pulled the hat from off of his head, leaving him with a severe case of hat-hair which made you giggle and he put the hat on top of your head, adjusting it so it covered your ears. ‘This will really sell it,’ he said laughing, ‘plus your ears looked like they were turning blue so think of me as your knight in shining armour.’
You laughed and threaded your arm through his as you both headed back onto the skating rink. ‘I’m (Y/N), something you should probably know.’
‘Aaron.’
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gingerbread kisses - t.h
pairing: tom holland x youtuber!reader
warnings: a lot of dialogue and some good old festive fluff
words: 2.5k
a/n: this is like a part two of my youtuber!reader series, it can also be read on it’s one but if you haven’t read chocolate kisses yet, you can do it here i really hope you guys enjoy it and please let me know what you think!! ✨
It was another normal workday at your flat, you had all your lights and camera set in your living room, ready to start filming. Today’s video was going to be a Q&A with a special guest, Tom Holland.
It was expected that your baking video with him was going to be one of the most successful ones, but you weren’t expecting the number of views that, to this day, a whole month later, kept coming.
With so many comments almost begging you to bring him to your channel again, you finally gave in and asked him to do a Q&A with you, but since it was the end of the year and Christmas was just around the corner, you decided that, while you answered your viewer's questions, you two could build gingerbread houses.
“Tom, where are you? I’m about to start this without you!” You shouted from the living room floor, where you were seated. “I’m coming, I just had to get something before,” Tom answered, appearing in front of you, wearing a ridiculously ugly Christmas jumper, making you burst out laughing.
“Oh my God! Where did you get that?” You asked, trying to recover from your fit of laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, darling! There’s one for you too!” He stated, taking an identical jumper from behind him.
“You’re not letting me get out of this, are you?” You questioned, sighing when you saw him shake his head. Once you took your (his) hoodie out, replacing it with the ugly sweater, you were finally ready to start recording.
“Hi guys, welcome back to another video! This week we have a special guest that you guys have been asking since our last video together.” You said, giving Tom time to sit next to you. “It’s Tom!”
“It’s me!” He exclaimed, smiling at the camera. “This time we’re not baking anything but, since Christmas is almost here, I thought it was a good idea for us to build some gingerbread houses!” You said, pointing to the kits you had bought on your last trip to the grocery store.
“It’s been so long since I’ve done this!” Tom smiled, clearly excited to start. “But, instead of just sitting here, I asked you guys on Instagram to send some questions so we could answer while doing our houses. What do you think?” You questioned, looking at him.
“Dangerous… but fun!” He said, making you laugh. “So, we have the Christmas tree with the lights on, it’s starting to snow outside, I’ve made us some hot chocolate and of course, we cannot forget our ugly sweaters, courtesy of Tom.” You grinned.
“You’re welcome!” He praised, making you roll your eyes. “I’d said we’re ready to start.” You announced, to which he gave you two thumbs-ups.
Once you had taken the house out of its package, you laid all the biscuit parts in front of you, Tom doing the same beside you.
“So, the first question is “What’s your best/worst memory together?” You let them know while putting the baking glue on your biscuit. “Do you wanna start?” Tom offered, to which you shrugged. “It’s okay, you can go first.” You said, seeing that he already had the answer at the tip of his tongue.
“Best memory is your twentieth birthday party.” He stated, without taking his eyes out of his project. “Why?” You asked, also concentrating on building the house.
“C’mon, y/n! You know why!” Tom finally looked up, making kissy lips to you. “Tom! It’s supposed to be a surprise for the end of the video!” You whined, earning a chuckle from him. “Okay, fine! I’ll behave!” He said, making you laugh this time.
“I think my favorite memory of us is at the Far From Home premiere party! We had so much fun!” Tom declared, making you smile. “Yeah, that was nice!” You agreed, thinking about your favorite memory with Tom. “Mine is probably when we went to New York, I loved that trip!” You confessed, remembering all the crazy things you and Tom did back then.
“Yeah, that was a good one!” Tom agreed, smiling at you. “Worst one has to be the time paparazzi locked us outside of that restaurant. It was awful, I honestly thought I was gonna die that day.” You remembered, feeling chills cover your body. “Yeah, same!” The boy next to you answered, clearly feeling down just thinking about that event, so you made sure to quickly change the subject and ask the next question.
“So, the next question is, what was your best trip?” You asked, motioning for Tom to go first. “Mine has to be Bali, I loved that place and I’m dying to go back.” He stated. “Tell me about it, I was so jealous when you guys went there!” You whined, remembering the photos he kept texting you. “What about you, y/n?”
“Oh, 100% Christmas in New York!” You told him, without even having to think. “It was magical!” You smiled, remembering the trip like it was yesterday.
“Nice! I never spent Christmas in New York!” Tom commented, before going for the next question. “What’s the other Starbucks order?” He asked, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.
“Yours is tea!” You said, rolling your eyes. “Hey, I drink coffee too!” Tom uttered. “Rarely! Most of the time is Chai Latte or a Royal English Breakfast Tea.” You stated and of course, Tom had to agree.
“Yeah, you’re right! I should try more of their stuff. But you also always get the same, White Chocolate Mocha or Peppermint Hot Cocoa at this time of the year.” Tom listed, making you smile knowing that he knew your drink orders.
“But it’s just soooo good! I can’t help it!” Tom chuckled, before passing your phone back to you for the next question. “That’s a good one, who’s the messier one?” You questioned. “I don’t even think I have to answer this, you guys realized that from our last video together!” You declared, making you both laugh.
“Ok, I’ll give you this one. I’m pretty messy! But I’m trying to get better at it, I promise!” Tom added, to which you chuckled. “My house is built, now I just have to decorate!” You announced, making Tom gasp by your side. “What?! There’s no way! I’m still trying to make these walls stick together.” He whined, making you chuckle.
“That’s because you’re not using enough glue, look, you have to put a straight line across the whole biscuit, otherwise it won’t stick.” You told him, showing exactly how to do it. “But the glue it’s showing on the other side.” He reasoned. “It doesn’t matter, Tom! We’ll just make it look like snow. See?” You pointed to your own house and he nodded, going back to work, focused on finishing it so he could start decorating.
“Next question, what’s the most useless talent you have?” Tom asked, already laughing. “Mine is really stupid but I can put my feet on top of my head,” Tom stated, demonstrating exactly what he was saying, almost knocking everything that was on the table in front of you off.
“That’s not a talent, you’re just flexible.” You rolled your eyes, to which he laughed. “You’re only saying this because you’re jealous you can’t do it.” He smirked, clearly trying to get on your nerves. “Shut up, I have a much better one, I can lick my elbow.” You said, also showing your completely useless talent. “That’s… weirdly impressive.” Tom expressed making you both laugh.
When Tom was finally done building his house, he joined you and started to decorate. You told him and your viewers that you were going for more of a white Christmas theme, while Tom expressed his desire to make the house as colorful as possible.
“Tom, I think the next question is for you.” You gave him a look, before continuing. “What is the dumbest way you’ve been injured?” He gasped, putting one of his hands over his chest while you laughed. “Why are you coming for me today?” The brown-haired boy asked, pretending to be offended.
“I’m sorry, but how many times have you broken your nose while filming?” You asked once you had stopped laughing. “Three, actually, two and a half, the last one wasn’t a complete fracture.” He explained, trying to not make a fool out of himself.
“Well, I’ve never injured myself badly, just some paper cuts, which for me it’s very dumb.” You mentioned. “See? Your answer is dumber than mine and still, I get the title.” Tom shook his head, making you laugh. “So, taking a break from the questions, what are you doing with your house?” You questioned, taking a moment to observe his work.
“I’m gluing some gummies on the roof.” He exclaimed, putting the icing on the sugar-coated candy before sticking it on the house. “And you?” Tom asked, stopping his movements to look at yours.
“I’m putting shredded coconut on the roof and a little bit on the floor, to make it look more like snow.” You smiled, happy with what you had done so far. “Uhh, bougie!” Tom uttered, sticking his tongue out.
“Shut up! Okay, question number… I don’t even know what number we are, so… weird habits of each other? Oh my God, Tom makes SO much noise to eat, it’s ridiculous!” You blurted, to which he immediately complained. “I do not!” He exclaimed. “Yes, you do!”
“You never said that to me!” You laughed at Tom defending himself. “I have told you, at least, a hundred times!” You stated. “Well, at least I have control of my own body, you can’t stop bouncing your leg for literally two seconds.” He exclaimed.
“That’s because I have anxiety and you know that! I’m always moving a part of my body!” You practically yelled. “Still annoying!” Tom said. “Well, I can’t help it!” You interjected. “Neither do I!” He replied. “Next question?” You asked. “Please!” He shot back, making you both burst out laughing.
Once you stopped, Tom took your phone and asked the next question. “Do you have nicknames for each other?” He smirked, making you panic. “Hey, you said you’d behave!” You warned, pointing a finger at him. “I will, promise!” He told you, but that didn’t stop you from being nervous about his answer.
“I sometimes call her cherry, because she can do that trick with the cherry stem, it’s unbelievable!” He smirked, making you blush. “That’s actually pretty easy to do!” You said, trying to make light of the situation. “Oh yeah, it’s totally easy to tie a knot with a cherry stem with your tongue. Super chill!” Tom added, without taking that stupid smirk out of his face.
“Stop it! I don’t think I have a nickname for you, I call you spider-boy sometimes but just to spite you.” You smiled, sticking your tongue out. If Tom wanted to play, you could join his little game.
“I wish I could tell them all the other names you call me in bed,” Tom whispered, making you almost choke on your hot chocolate. “Thomas!!!” You screamed, trying desperately to clean the mess you’ve made. “Fine…” He replied, taking a sip of his drink.
“Ok, since we are almost done with the houses, the second to last question is: If you could, what would you change about your first kiss?” You asked, immediately regretting choosing the question. “Oh, that’s cool! Let me see… no, I don’t think I’ll change anything about it, maybe the place. It was a little too crowded.” He replied, not even trying to hide his smirk.
“Really? That’s all you’d change?” You asked, giving him the chance to take back his answer. “Yep, that’s all! What about you, y/n?” You shook your head, feigning disappointment that he didn’t choose to make you his first kiss. “I’d change the person, you idiot!” You answered, throwing one of the icing packages at him.
“Hey, that hurt!” Tom protested, throwing it back at you. “Stop it! We have to finish these so we can end the video.” You warned, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Oh, I’m done!” He announced, showing off his finished gingerbread house with a very colorful roof, windows, and door. “Already? I still wanna do a garland on the door. I even bought special sprinkles for it.” You stated, rushing yourself. “Of course you did!” Tom mocked, to which you simply flipped him off.
Once you had also finished your house, you and Tom did a quick cleaning of the table, before going back to filming. “We’re back!” You said, to which Tom added. “And we’re finished!”
“I’m really happy, they turned out so pretty!” You beamed, looking at your finished works. “They did!” Tom agreed, smiling widely. “So… before we end this video, we do have a last question, one that was the most asked and that is: are you guys together?” You said, finally acknowledging the elephant in the room.
You and Tom shared some guilty looks before blurting it out together. “Yes!” Tom’s smile was so wide that it made you smile too. “Yes, guys! You were all right! Tom and I are in a relationship now and we are so happy to finally share this with all of you!” You grinned, looking at your boyfriend, that of course was looking back at you.
“Yeah, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world and I honestly couldn’t be happier,” Tom murmured, making you blush. “Stop it!” You smiled, now completely lost in his eyes. “I think you have to finish the video now, darling!” He joked, bringing you back to earth.
“Oh, yeah, right! So… that was everything for today’s video, I hope you guys enjoyed it! Don’t forget to give the video a thumbs up and subscribe to my channel! Please, let me know what you guys thought in the comments section down below and… I think that’s it. Do you wanna say something?” You asked, shifting your eyes to Tom. “Thank you for having me again and I hope to come back soon for another one!” He said, giving the camera an adorable little wave. “Bye guys! See you next week!” You cheered, getting up to stop the recording. “We did it!”
“Yay! Can I eat now?” Tom quipped, before smashing his house in half. “Thomas!!!!” You shouted, not believing what he had done. “What?! We’re not supposed to eat it?” He wondered, putting one of the cookie pieces in his mouth. “I mean, yeah, but not… like that!” You tried to reasoned, to which he scoffed.
“C’mon, you didn’t think I wasn’t going to make a mess, right?” He smirked, signing for you to come closer. And you did, sliding right in front of him, straddling his waist.
“You’re an idiot!” You teased, clasping your arms behind his head. “Hmm, c’mere!” Tom lifted your chin and there was nothing more to do other than kiss his lips, so you did, only this time, instead of chocolate, they tasted like gingerbread.
tagging some of my mutuals ✨ @stuckonspidey @definitely-not-black-cat @missnxthingg @bi-writes @uglypastels @screamholland @peeterparkr @wazzupmrstark @tomhollandthing @lauras-collection @tommybaholland @mrs-hollandstan @duskholland @allyz @hazinhoodies @hollandcreep @worldoftom @whatevsholland @geminiparkers
#my writing#tom holland#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fic#tom holland imagine#tom holland blurb#tom holland one shot#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland writing
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noel on ice — kim namjoon
Pairing — Namjoon x Reader, feat. minor mention of Jungkook x OC
Genre — fluff, holiday, minor angst, mental health
Tags — strangers to lovers, figure skater!Namjoon, barista!MC, non-idol au, figure skater au, café au, holiday au
Word Count — 16k
Summary — After sustaining a crushing defeat at the World Figure Skating Championships, falling from his perfect gold standard to his long-time rival, Kim Namjoon returns to South Korea with an unsure heart and accompanying injury. At the same time, Y/N is as far from home as she has ever been due to a falling out with her family, working as a barista at a café in Seoul while trying to finish her degree. As if by fate, the two meet, and Namjoon makes it his goal to make Y/N see the magic of the holidays -- one Christmas adventure across Seoul at a time.
Warnings — minor language, brief anxiety attack, mentions of ptsd related symptoms
A/N — This year has been a very difficult one for us all. For my fic in this Christmas collab, I wanted to acknowledge all of that and give a little mental health break for everyone. All of our experiences have been different, but one thing we all have in common is that 2020 was unexpected, painful, and heavy. Please, no matter what holiday you celebrate, let yourself have as much rest and healing as you need. If this little, probably-needs-more-editing-than-I-had-time-for fic can help you get there — even just for the twenty minutes it takes to read — then my job is done ❤️ I love you all, and I know I speak for the others when I say I hope 2021 treats us all so much kinder, and I hope we learn to love ourselves in spite of our worlds around us.
Playlist — Link here.
Christmas Collaboration — this fic is a part of the Christmas Collab by @kooala (link coming soon!)
"Hey—Hey, are you even listening to me?"
Raising your head slightly, your eyes widening as you realize you've zoned out again, focusing on the snowfall outside instead of the next customer in line. The woman waving her hand in front of you is as foreign to South Korea as you are, but her expression is entirely that of an angry American. Her scowl has etched deep lines into her skin, where smile lines should be.
Unfortunately, her face is all too familiar. Usually it pays to be one of the only native English-speakers at your café; however, when Americans come in, you're the one pushes to take their orders and serve them.
Even the most difficult ones.
"S—Sorry, Ma'am," you mutter. Shaking your head, you force a customer-service smile. "I was just admiring the snowfall. Isn't it beautiful?"
"Oh, yeah," she retorts sarcastically. "So beautiful that it's making travel home nearly impossible. Can you please just make my drink so I can leave?"
"I—I didn't hear it, Ma'am. Can you repeat it please?"
While the woman rolls her eyes, she repeats her order swiftly, muttering something along the lines of, "Baristas these days, I swear to god," under her breath. "Make sure to get it right this time. Every time I come in and order a blended cappuccino, you guys end up giving me a latte, which is not what I ordered."
"And every time, we have to explain that all a latte is, is a blended cappuccin—"
"—I don't want to hear it!"
With a sigh, you ring up the total for the "blended cappuccino, not latte" and let the woman pay. From the sidelines, your co-worker Lisa stands with a glare and a tin of heated milk ready to go for your order.
"Ms. Blended cappuccino again?" she asks as you turn towards her with a note written in perfect Hangul.
You nod, running a hand over your hair in frustration. "I hate being the only native bi-lingual person here. Means I get to deal with her every damn time."
Sensing your downtrodden spirit, Lisa pushes you out of the way, giving you a gentle shove towards the back room. "I got this one. Go take a breather in the back, okay?"
"But—"
"—Ah! No buts. I know enough English to get by."
From the front desk, the woman pipes up again, demanding her drink be made faster. Lisa marches past your, arms herself with the imaginary drink, and says in perfect English, "You're in Seoul now. Speak Korean."
Knowing Lisa can handle the absolute hell-spawn that is an angry American Karen, you turn your back to the drama and shuffle to the break room behind the "employees only" door. An exasperated breath escapes as you revel in the silence, pushing away the muffled café sounds on the other side of the door. Being the only one in the break room, you spot your favorite white chocolate mocha on the side table, with a smiley face sticky note indicating it's from Lisa beside it.
You smile gently at the sweet gesture, and shove the sticky note into your pocket as a reminder to yourself to thank her later.
Taking the mug between your overworked hands, you settle down on the window seat and watch the December sky slowly shift from violet to navy. The mocha is just slightly sweet with a hint of peppermint, just like you like it. It's almost enough to illicit the Christmas spirit lying dormant inside you.
There's something incredibly painful about this particular holiday season, you think to yourself as the cars pass swiftly on the street outside. The glittering lights, the beautiful carols, the crystalline snow — none of it feels the same as last year. The holidays are supposed to be a time of comfort and renewal, but this year — after moving halfway around the world by yourself — your heart is starting to wonder if that part of you has died.
Maybe it's the loneliness you're feeling, or maybe it's the fact that you're so far away from home. Or maybe it's the fresh-in-your-mind arguments and falling out with your family over the summer. That bitter taste lingers still in the back of your throat, not unlike a dark espresso. A Christmas season without your parents and siblings; you never thought living your own life and following your happiness could hurt so much. For better or worse, that nostalgic feeling family and friends bring is long gone. And now you're nostalgic for nostalgia itself; what kind of messed up feeling is that?
You've had twenty-four wondrous, magical holiday seasons. Is it part of growing up that your allotment of joyful Christmas days is limited?
Is twenty-five the year that the magic just...stops?
When the night sky becomes unchanging, the door to the café kitchen opens. Lisa peeks her head inside, side-bangs falling in her face. "How's the mocha? Did I get it right?"
You take the last sip with a grateful smile, then place the mug onto the coffee table. "You nailed it. Thank you, I needed that."
Pride swells in Lisa's chest, and her shoulders straighten as she enters the room. "Well, good news. Karen's gone," she announces, "and your favorite customer is here!"
"Who?"
Lisa places her hand horizontally at her hip-level. "About this tall? Loves peppermint hot choco?
Bolting from your seat, all your concerns are momentarily gone. Your co-worker doesn't have to utter another word to get you to exit the back room and reenter the kitchen.
Across the counter, a mop of black hair is barely visible. Dark brown eyes peer over the granite surface; they twinkle and shine at the sight of you. Tiny hands splay on the surface in an attempt to make the small child taller. He's around seven to eight years, you estimate. Nine or ten at the very most. Definitely not out of primary school. And he's your very favorite customer, because unlike most, this child comes in with a toothy grin almost every single day with enough money for a peppermint hot chocolate. He's never late, and he's never unhappy. If the Sun were to bless the world with a ray of sunshine in human form, this kid would be it.
"Ahjumma!" the little boy shouts, a grin plastered on his face.
Instead of having him crane his neck, you walk around the counter, bend down on one knee, and ignore the other customers behind him. Pulling one of the tiny baked goods from your apron pocket, you offer the sweet to the child with a wink.
"You're here awfully late, Yeongu. You're usually here right after school lets out. It's already after dark."
Yeongu digs through his pocket and pulls out several crumpled won, enough for his beverage of choice. "Tomorrow is the last day before Christmas break, so dad picked me up and took me skating. I'm with mom and her boyfriend for the rest of the month 'cause Dad's going to Busan with his new wife. I don't like her that much. She frowns too much. And she smells like soju and taffy."
You exchange the won for the baked treat, laughing softly as you invite the boy onto the corner table nearest the hot chocolate machines. "You don't like taffy, do you?"
He makes a face and takes a big bite of the delicacy. "My teacher tells us that if we eat taffy, it will help us remember things. I ate too much of it last year, and now I hate it. Dad's new wife must always be forgetting things, because she always smells like it!"
After finishing the simple drink, you slide the mug across the table and plop down in the seat across from the small boy. "So does this mean I won't get to see you until after Christmas?"
Yeongu shakes his head. "I'll be by tomorrow after. Mom wanted to visit my cousin before we left. He's back in town for Christmas, and we haven't seen him in a long time."
"Oh? What does he do?"
"Sports."
At that, the boy changes the conversation. "What are you doing for Christmas, Ahjumma?"
"Yeah, Ahjumma," Lisa pipes up after serving the final to-go customer for the night. She flips the sign on the front door and turns back to the two of you, hand on her hip. "What are you doing for your first Christmas in Korea?"
Shrugging slightly, you turn your attention back to the small child across from you. "I'll probably spend the day with Mochi — my cat — probably studying so I'll be ahead in the new year for my next classes." Lisa gives an empathetic look at the mention of your kitten, which causes you to roll your eyes playfully. "Don't give me that look! I'll be fine. Probably best for me to have a relaxed, non-hectic couple of days. This year has been a rough one."
"That sounds sad," Yeongu states bluntly, earning a snicker from Lisa.
"Kid's right. Absolutely dreadful, [Y/n]. What a lame Christmas."
"What about you, then? Do you have any plans for Christmas?"
At the question, Lisa's smirk drops and she perks up. "Well, I'm sure you know, but Christmas in Korea is pretty different from America," Lisa reminds you, and you nod your acknowledgement. "It's more of a couple holiday, so my boyfriend Jungkook and I are planning to take the week off and do a ton of holiday activities together. Mostly outdoors stuff. Y'know, snowboarding, skiing, snowball fights — the usual."
"Sounds like a blast," you laugh.
"Oh, it will be." She gives a wink, then nods to Yeongu. "Are we about done here? I need to head out if you're okay with locking up for the night."
You give a wave of approval as the child nears the end of his glass. "I got this. Say hello to Jungkookie for me."
Lisa flashes a set of extravagant finger hearts before disappearing into the back, where she gathers her personal items and exits out the rear entrance. In her absence, Yeongu tugs on your sleeve and holds up an empty mug.
"Thank you for the hot choco, Ahjumma," he grins, showing the dark stain on his upper lip.
Taking the mug, you use the edge of your apron to clean the mess from his face. "If you come by tomorrow before you leave with your Eomma, I'll make you another with extra peppermint, okay?"
The boy's smile grows, and he hops up from the table with a swift bow. "I'll be here!" He heads for the door with a skip in his step.
"Will you get home all right?" you call after him.
Yeongu turns and grins. "I will, don't worry, Ahjumma!"
And then he's gone, out the door in a rush of energy and giggles towards his home nearby. You merely shake your head; there's no point in going after him now.
Soon after, you're following in his step. It doesn't take you long to clean up. By the time you lock up and exit out the back, snow has begun to fall. You brave the cold, tugging your coat tighter around you, burying your face into your scarf. The journey to the subway is short, and your feet take you quickly. Even still, you stare upward at the snowy clouds in hope that they might spark a semblance of Christmas joy in your heart.
Tonight, like every other night, nothing changes.
You heave a sigh, and the breath billows out as a visible fog as you enter the station. Going through the motions to get to your apartment is easy. A swipe of a card, a short ride to the edge of the neighborhood, and a trek up the set of stairs. Once through the door, you're greeted by a mewing shadow of a cat.
"Hi, my baby girl," you greet with a soft smile, bending down to scratch the tiny fur ball behind the ears. The black cat rubs her chin against your palm and follows you when you waltz to the kitchen. "You hungry?"
As if responding, "Yes!" Mochi speeds up and meows a bit louder than last time.
Her antics bring a smile to your face as you turn on the television for background noise. You find the nearest Korean news station, finding the program in the middle of a report on Korea's favorite rap duo and their upcoming tour: Suga and J-Hope. Your intention with the selection is two-fold — first, to continue to enhance your skills of the Korean language, and two, to continue learning about the culture and world of your new home. While you had extensive knowledge of both before moving to Seoul — despite the process being rather quick due to the fallout with your family — nothing compares to being immersed in the country itself.
As the musical entertainment section ends, you begin pulling ingredients out of the fridge and cupboard. "What do you think sounds good, Mochi? How about teokbokki?" The black cat perches her paws on your right leg, purring pleasantly. "I agree, sounds great after a long day."
You toss a bag of rice cakes onto the counter as the news changes to sports. Even as you prepare the sauce for the meal, you actively listen to the voices in the background.
"Unfortunately, RM Nam's ice skating season has been cut short due to an unforeseen injury he sustained during practice this summer. At the time, the damage to his shoulder seemed unnoticed by the athlete and his coach. However, as we saw earlier this October at the Grant Prix Series: Skate America, Mr. Nam's mishap on the ice turned out to be far more damaging than originally thought. Thus, the position representing South Korea at the next in the series, Skate Canada, was shifted to his rival, Kim Seokjin, and RM Nam returned home to Seoul to recover."
You can't but help a glance up at the screen. The skater in question has his back turned to the cameras as he heads into the airport. Behind his sunglasses, mask, and beanie, he offers a polite smile and wave to the reporters. Moments later, his coach guides him into the building, out of sight.
"That doesn't sound fun," you mutter to yourself as the report moves onto politics.
After you finish cooking, you plate yourself a portion and move into the living room. Besides the tiny tan sofa and the television propped up on a box, most of the room is bare. There are a handful of boxes strewn across the apartment of the few things you either had shipped from the States or that you bought in your six months since then, but for the most part, you've been putting off all of it. Most of your time is spent at work or at school; you haven't had the time, energy, or motivation to do any of it. Even at Christmas, despite Lisa gifting you with your very own tiny tree and twinkle lights to spread across the home, you've yet to unpack any of it. The tree remains in the slender box beside the TV, and you doubt it will go up this year at all.
Heaving a sigh at the thought, you turn the channel to VIKI put on your favorite drama. This particular one is a reincarnation plot with two male leads played by Korea's golden boys: Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung. Paired with the bowl of teokkboki in your lap and the kitten curled to your side, it's enough to drag you thoughts out of homesickness and back to the present.
This might just have to be the Christmas you forget and hope that the next year is a kinder one.
A lot changed in your life this year. In some ways, the changes were good. In others, not so much. Most of the turbulent times were in the heat of the summer, but things began slowing down once you moved to South Korea in September. You were now away from toxic family members, away from a life you never wanted, and looking ahead to an uncertain but certainly hopeful future.
In late October, the seasons began changing for the better — and not just in the physical sense of the falling leaves and cooler breeze. Lisa was right about your favorite customer; it truly was little Yeongu. However, there was another that you looked forward to seeing, just as much as the elementary school boy.
This person was older, around your age, with a deeply dimpled smile that made your stomach flutter. Eyes as slender as his body proportions, you'd be lying if you said he wasn't an attractive man. Hair the color of the snowflakes he walked through, eyes the color of the beverage he'd always order, skin the color of warmth in a cozy fireplace. Even his voice was warm and deep; at every conversation, while you are completely fluent in Korean, you find yourself just wanting to listen to the soft timbre.
Over time, this man — whose name you'd quickly learn was Kim Namjoon — became a regular at your little coffee shop. He'd come in at the oddest hours, either super early or super late. Hours you often worked alone, when there were fewer customers. Every time, he'd strike up a conversation as you took his order and crafted his beverage of choice (a heavy coffee brewed dark and bitter, with just a splash of cream and almond whip.) He was sweet, and eventually you opened up. He'd hang around the counter long after the transaction was completed, sometimes until another customer stole your attention away. It didn't take long for you to realize that he was far more than merely a pretty face.
In those weeks leading up to December, you found yourself smiling a bit more. Joking a bit more. Shoulders lightening a bit more. You looked forward to the increasingly insistent days where he'd waltz in — sometimes covered in raindrops, sometimes in crisp leaves, sometimes in snowflakes — always a crystal blue umbrella under his arm and a charcoal grey scarf around his neck.
It's the same person standing at the entrance now, the man currently shaking the rain from his umbrella and platinum locks. Lisa gives you a smirk as she nods her head towards the register and steps away from the counter, as if silently saying, "You're up, m'lady. Holler if you need me; I'll be doing an order in the back."
You brush your hair back into proper place, display a genuine smile, and take your stance behind the register. When Namjoon's eyes meet yours, his smile deepens and creates dimples on either side of his mouth.
After the customer in front of him pays and leaves with his order in hand, you greet him with a simple, "You haven't been in, in over a week. Finally trying to break your caffeine addiction?"
Namjoon gives a deep laugh and shakes his head. "Not in the slightest. I like being able to function as an adult in society, thank you very much." He pulls out several won from his wallet. "I'll have..."
"The usual?"
He cocks an eyebrow. "You remember?"
"Of course," you grin, and type his drink of choice into the register. Taking his money, you add, "How could I forget your order after the hilarious reaction when I suggested a mint mocha?"
The boy thinks back to the first day he walked into the café, and recalls that conversation with a groan. "Oh god, was I that bad?"
Handing him his change, you tap your chin and reply, "Well, maybe a bit. I'd never seen someone so horrified at the idea of mint chocolate."
Namjoon rubs the back of his neck with an awkward smile. "Sorry about that. Pretty terrible at hiding my disdain for that flavor combo."
"No worries! Made me laugh."
Seeing that there are no other customers behind him, you turn to the brewing station and usher Namjoon to take a seat on the bar stool across the counter. It's a position you've taken several times before. When the customers are low, as they are at this hour of evening, the platinum-haired man tends to linger and converse far after his drink is finished.
"What brings you in today? Just wanted a pick-me-up or?"
Namjoon heaves a sigh. He watches you closely but casually, silently admiring the skillful way you begin to brew the dark beverage. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, and coming here always helps me de-stress."
"Coffee helps you relax?" You can't help but chuckle at the sentiment.
"And the company."
Heat rushes to your face, and when you glance up to meet his gaze, the warmth only increases. "You're smooth, Kim Namjoon. Very smooth."
Brown eyes widen, and he bows his head so that his bangs cover his eyes. "That's not what I meant at all!"
"Calm down, you're fine. Wanna talk about what's on your mind, though?"
In all your conversations, the two of you have only ever talked on the shallow surface of various topics. You don't know much about Namjoon, and he doesn't know much about you — despite having shared extremely vague information about your year, your jobs, and your education. You feel very open with him, but most of the time, those conversations can't be had in a fifteen minute discussion at a café.
"It's a long, complicated story. I'm not sure you'd wanna hear it." He raises his hands defensively as he realizes how his words might be construed. "Not that you wouldn't understand! I just wouldn't want to be a downer."
You select the cold brew setting on the machine and let the device begin to whir to life. "Well, I've got at least the time it takes to make your drink. I'm all ears."
Namjoon shakes his head as he settles his elbows on the counter. "You're persistent."
"Honey, I've been called far worse."
Seeing your eagerness, your companion heaves a sigh and shifts his gaze from you to the window at his right. As be begins to speak, his demeanor falls a bit. He's not as happy-go-lucky; there's an err of anxiety about him that you can't quite nail down. "I've been thinking about a change in career recently. Things haven't been unfolding this year like I wanted...and I'm starting to think I'm not meant to do what I'm doing now. Maybe I need to retire — from this industry, I mean, and move on to another."
Even with that small confession, you can't help but mirror his emotions. "I hear you. I've felt similar feelings this year."
His gaze shifts back to yours, and he tilts his head in surprise. "Really? How so?"
"I told you I moved to Seoul in September, right?" Namjoon nods. "That's because I wanted a...a fresh start. I enrolled in Yonsei University, got a job here, and just...moved."
"That's pretty brave, and that's really awesome you're at Yonsei. They're a fantastic school."
"Thanks," you grin whilst popping the canister of cold brew out from under the brewing machine. "I needed to get away from certain people in my life that weren't letting me move forward, so moving was the best choice." You pour the dark beverage into a small mixer and pull out the vanilla creamer. "Sure you don't want mint this time? Last chance."
Namjoon cocks an eyebrow as a silent challenge; the expression makes you giggle to yourself as you pour the very non-mint add-ins. "Hilarious."
"Hey! Just offering." After giving the mixture a whisk, your smile falters.
Nothing gets by the observant person across the counter. "I feel like your story has a 'but' after what you ended with."
"You're good," you reply, gesturing to him with the handheld whisk. "I'm not talking too much, am I?"
Namjoon shakes his head adamantly and flourishes with his hand for you to continue. "I mean, we're practically friends now. Please, go on."
Reassured by both his calming nature and genuine interest, you continue talking. "But after getting here...let's just say it's hard to make friends and get out there in a country where you look so different, where your language isn't native, and where you know literally no one. So...ah, this year's been a pretty lonely one, and I know I still made the right choice, but now that the holidays are here..." You trail off and offer a small smile. "All that to say, I know what it's like to second-guess yourself and not have things go the way you thought."
"Seems we have a lot in common," he chuckles, leaning his chin on his hand.
The comment causes the mood to lighten, and you let a laugh slip out. "Yeah, seems so."
Before the conversation can continue, the front door opens. Yeongu enters, a couple of other customers behind him. As if on cue, Lisa enters from the back room and greets the adults with a smile and a swift, "Hi, welcome! What can I get you this evening?"
As the child approaches the adjacent counter where you stand, his grin widens. You perch your elbows on the counter and lean over. "How's my favorite customer?"
"I'm finally free from school, Ahjumma!" Yeongu cheers loudly.
"Congrats! I'm sure you're relieved." He nods affirmatively. "t's freezing outside. Are you okay?"
"I'm okay, I promise. But can I get a mint hot choco?" He holds up a crumpled bill with a toothy grin.
"Of course, you can. Extra mint, just like I promised." You nod towards the seat closest to the window. "Sit in your usual spot, okay? After I get this nice man his coffee, I'll get your hot chocolate."
As Namjoon turns to look at the child, Yeongu's eyes widen in surprise. "Namjoon-hyung! I didn't know you were here."
Much to your shock, Namjoon reciprocates the affection and hops down from his chair to bend down to Yeongu's level. "Yeon-ie!" He teases the boy by ruffling up his hair, which Yeongu scowls at him for.
"Um... You two know each other?"
"Yep!" Yeongu grins. "He's my cousin, the one I told you about yesterday."
"Oooh, that makes sense. Didn't realize my two favorite customers were related."
Yeongu laughs at the comment and hops into the chair beside Namjoon. "But I'm your favorite customer, right?"
"Of course," you tease, flashing him a playful wink.
"Oh! I almost forgot. Ahjumma, can I please have mine in a to-go cup? Mom told me to come right home so we can finish packing for our trip."
"Of course, give me just a second to get you a lid." You turn to your first customer with an apologetic smile. "Namjoon, I'm almost done with yours. Just give me a moment."
"Actually, do you mind putting mine in a to-go cup as well?" He jerks his thumb towards Yeongu. "I should probably walk him home. He lives just around the corner from me. I'd feel better if I did."
"Oh, sure, I can do that."
"Would you walk with us, Ahjumma? Pleeeease?"
Your gaze moves to Namjoon. "Do you mind?"
The elder cousin hops up from his chair, shaking his head adamantly. "Not at all! Can you?"
"Sure, I'm about at the end of my shift anyway! Let me grab my coat. I'll come with." You turn quickly to Lisa, murmuring, "Can you watch—?"
She cuts you off with a wave of her hand. "—Go! I can close up for the night. But if you don't come back with a date planned, the invitation to spend New Years with Jungkookie and me is rescinded."
With a playful eye-roll, you peck her on the cheek and run to the back for your coat. Once you return, you find Namjoon scuffling Yeongu's dark locks with a dimpled smile. Looking back up as you return, the expression doesn't falter.
"Ready?"
You nod and follow behind through the exit, trying to ignore the wink and dual thumbs-ups Lisa flashes you as you pass.
Once on the street, Yeongu walks ahead of you and Namjoon. The first few minutes are silent between you two. From ahead, you can hear the small child talking to himself, or perhaps his hot chocolate, and then occasionally to the adults.
As you cross the busy street, Namjoon clears his throat. "So...you have any plans for Christmas?"
You scoff under your breath and shake your head. "Why does this topic keep coming up?"
"Hope I didn't offend," he laughs. "Yeongu said something about a café girl not having plans last night. I figured it was you."
"Trust me, you're good. But yeaaah. Kinda new to Korea. I spent the fall settling in and trying to start over. Between work and school, didn't expect much. Holidays sneaked up on me, I guess."
There's a pause as the trio rounds the corner. Yeongu finishes his hot cocoa along the way and hands the empty cup to Namjoon. The elder doesn't even hesitate to take it, and the boy rushes ahead to what you assume is his home. Over his shoulder, he shouts, "Thank you for the choco, Ahjumma!"
You grin widely and wave. "You're welcome!"
Yeongu turns to Namjoon, sticks out his tongue in a playful manner, then disappears into his house.
"Aaand that's the thanks I get." Namjoon rolls his eyes and turns his body towards you, giving you his full attention as the sun sets behind Seoul Tower. "I have a crazy idea."
"Oh, really?" You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. "Those are my favorite kind of ideas."
"Cheesy," he grins. "Well...I don't have any plans either. Maybe we spend it together?"
"No plans, huh? Do I look that pitiful?"
"No! No, it's not that at all, god." Namjoon's smirk falls from his face as a horrified expression drowns out any humor. "Sorry if that's how it came off. I just—You seem really nice, and it's been a while since either of us just enjoyed someone else's company. No strings. No pressure."
Tugging your lower lip between your teeth, you shuffle in your step. "I don't know, Namjoon..."
"Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. I hate to see anyone's shoulders so heavy in December. How about this — give me three days to prove the magic isn't lost."
"Three days? That's it?"
"That's it."
"Okay then, Mr. Kim." You offer a hand in his direction. "Three days."
Namjoon's eyes lock with yours, as does his hand. "It's a deal."
The following weekend you wake to a phone call coming in from your recently-added number. Rolling out from under the covers to grab the device from the nightstand, you answer with voice still groggy with sleep. "Hello?"
"Are you still sleeping?" the caller laughs in a deep timbre.
"Shuddup." Peaking an eye open, the time on the screen reads just after eleven a.m. "It's not that late."
"Really?"
"Did you call me just to make fun of my lack of healthy sleep schedule, or did you have a point?"
"Ouch!” Namjoon exclaims playfully. “I actually did call, and it's actually perfect because I don't need you ready to go until around three this afternoon. So you can totally just go back to sleep."
You curl back under your heated blanket and revel in the warmth it provides. Beside you, Mochi curls closer, nearly sitting on your head. "Mmm sounds perfect. Wait—what?"
"You heard me." There's a hint of teasing in Namjoon's words. "It's Day 1. Be ready for an outdoor adventure by three. I'll pick you up then, okay sleepyhead?"
The butterflies rumble in your stomach at the nickname, and you clear your throat before replying. "Yep, got it. Three p.m. Outdoor adventure. Can't you tell me what it is or where we're going?"
"And ruin the surprise? No way. Just trust me, Jagi."
A squeak slips out, and you throw your hand over your mouth to hide it. "Okay, see you there—I mean then!"
You can almost hear Namjoon shaking his head as he says his goodbyes and ends the call. Despite still being sleepy and warm and cozy in your nest, you lie wide awake in bed for the next half-hour, replaying his voice over and over in your head like a well-loved record.
The day flies by, and eventually it's approaching three. You've dressed to impress while still trying to keep it casual. Despite this being a date, it's still casual. You like Namjoon a lot, and you hope he likes you as well. However, outside of conversations at the café, you haven't spent a lot of time together yet. This is as good a second-first impression as any, and you intend to make the most of it.
Grabbing your winter coat and scarf, you scurry down the stairs and spot Namjoon lingering by the entrance with two cups in his hands. He's dressed in jeans and a sweater with a dark grey jacket over top, his usual scarf looped twice around his neck. A beanie covers his head, but bits of his platinum hair still stick out in places. Slung across his shoulder is a brown leather backpack. He always looks nice, that much you know, but the fact that today he looks nice for you makes you sickly happy.
He flashes a smile as you bound out the door. "You look rested," he teases, then offers you one of the cups.
Taking it with a nose scrunch, you look down at the order on the side, seeing that it's your usual order. "How did you know!"
He shrugs. "I have my ways."
"Was it Lisa?"
"Maybe..." He straightens up and nods his chin towards the nearby station. "Follow me for our first adventure!"
After boarding the train to Itaewon, you can't help but wonder where he might be taking you. Your mind goes through all of the things to do in Itaewon, but the list is lengthy. From his excited and proud expression, you know Namjoon has been looking forward to this all day, just as you have.
After exiting fifteen minutes down the line, Namjoon reaches for your free hand. "May I...?"
Your fingers close the distance, glove-covered palm clasping his. "Lead the way."
Namjoon grins, then tugs on your hand as you exit the station. Once outside in the frigid air, you see your breath come out in puffs of fog. You tighten your scarf around your neck and allow your companion to usher you down the sidewalk, towards a clearing in the colorful buildings of Itaewon-do.
Another block or so, and you see the direction in which he's heading. A large sign along the way reads, "Grant Hyatt Seoul Ice Rink" in bold Hangul. Your eyes widen as the realization hits you, and the excitement inside you grows. "How did you know I've wanted to go ice skating!"
Namjoon shuffles up to the ticket counter, replying over his shoulder, "Um...lucky guess?"
As he purchases your tickets, you take a moment to absorb your surroundings. The trees are glowing from the lights covering every branch and trunk. They surround the rink and give a glow from within that is so much softer and more intimate than the harsh lighting of the city. The Hyatt Hotel stands as a black silhouette against the horizon. In the opposite direction, you can see N. Seoul Tower already lit up as the afternoon lighting shifts to evening. Projectors shine shapes of glittering snowflakes across the ice, giving another layer of ambient lighting to the rink.
"I haven't been since I was a kid," you add, staring at the exterior of the open-air rink with awe. Namjoon hands you the ticket, which you use for entrance and skates before shoving it into your jacket pocket. "Have you ever been before?"
"Yeah, a...few times. Hey, what size shoe are you?" When you tell him, Namjoon grabs a pair of skates from the shelf beside the ticket booth and gestures for you to sit on the bench across from it. "It can be tricky to lace your skates properly," he commentates as he kneels down in front of you and begins to untie your boots. "It's really something you have to adjust yourself, so let me know when I'm close?"
Not having any words to respond at his sudden closeness, you nod the affirmative and watch in silence as he puts one boot to the side, slips the skate on with ease, and begins to adjust the laces like a professional. After repeating the movements with your other skate, he taps your knee and looks up at you.
"Too loose? You want them to be as tight as you can handle to keep your ankles steady."
Moving your feet, you shake your head from side to side. "A bit more. I'd hate to have Day 1 turn into a trip to the E.R."
"Definitely, nothing says ‘Christmas magic’ like an emergency room visit," he laughs, adjusting your laces as you requested. "How's that?"
"Much better, thank you."
After lacing up your skates as tight as you can handle, Namjoon stands and offers you an arm. He helps you waddle over to the entrance, gently sliding you onto the ice despite your shaky knees and flailing arms. You soon realize that it might be best to hold tight to the barrier and stick only to the periphery.
He doesn't follow you on at first. When you turn and look back for him, he waves you on. "You go ahead. I need to grab my skates first."
"Mmm fine, but if I break my neck trying to catch your ass, you're paying for ramen after. Got it?"
Namjoon gives you two thumbs ups as he lets you go onto the ice. "Loud and clear."
Eventually, you begin tugging yourself along, trying but failing to keep up with the traffic of more experienced skaters. Even compared to those half your age, or even less, you're the child on this rink.
About half-way around the rink, you spot Namjoon making his way towards the entrance. Waving your hand, your smile widens when he sees you. He waves back, nearly bumps into the person ahead of him at the gate, and you murmur to yourself, "This should be good."
Namjoon hits the ice. He's not like the barreling disaster you are, but like a graceful swan. It catches you off-guard; if anything, you expected him to fall flat on his face or tumble over a child on his way over to you on the opposite side. He needs no assistance from the railing, nor does he struggle to cross the center and come to a full stop in front of you. His skates make a graceful scraping sound, and his stance is one of a professional. Even his skates are different than yours; they're custom, and you realize that must've been what he was carrying in his backpack.
You assume the awestruck look on your face is the reason for his smirk and laughter. He does a spin for dramatic affect as he closes the distance between you. "Surprised?"
"For starters! How the hell are you so graceful? You're literally twirling around on one foot on a frictionless surface, and I can barely make a left turn!"
The platinum blond gives you a look like you're still missing the point, then extends his hand. "C'mon, I can help you more than the railing can."
"Promise not to sue me if I break your face by crashing into you?"
"Promise, now grab my hand and skate!"
Your hands in his, you take the leap of faith and separate from the barrier around the oblong rink. Namjoon slowly skates backwards, carrying you the whole way. Your eyes remain glued to your trembling feet, careful not to have the blades deviate too far out to one side or the other.
"Look at you!" he cheers, ever the positive one. "A whole two minutes on your feet."
"Shut up."
You won't deny that your progress surprises even you. Despite having to hold both his hands for the first ten minutes, then eventually one as you skate side-by-side for the following half-hour, you're more adept at skating than you thought you would be.
"You think you can try on your own for a lap?" he inquires.
Giving a hesitant nod, you let go of Namjoon's hand, saying, "Don't leave my side, okay?"
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Taking a deep breath in, you push one skate out in front of the other and move yourself forward. The other follows after, and you get about twenty feet before you stumble and nearly fall face-first. Luckily, Namjoon keeps his promise and wraps his arms around your waist before you crash.
"Good try!" he exclaims, keeping his arms around your middle even after you regain your balance. "You got pretty far, actually."
You give an awkward chuckle and lay your nervous hands over his at your hip. "Maybe I'm not quite ready for a free-skate yet."
"No worries." He lets his arms drop and retakes your hand to steady you. The dimples appear next to his smile as he adjusts your beanie on your head, which had nearly fallen off in your almost-fall. "But I gotta say, you didn't have to fall for me on Day 1."
"So smooth!" You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a playful shove, only to gasp and reach back for him when he naturally skates backwards at the push. "Nevermind, I take it back. Please don't leave me in the middle of the rink."
Namjoon lets out a loud laugh, nearly doubling over as you cling to him. "You're so cute."
As you skate together, you keep getting the feeling that Namjoon has spent far more time on the ice than you previously assumed. After you get the hang of it yourself and are able to wobble along beside him without a constant hand to hold, he smiles a proud, wide smile.
"See? I knew you could do it!"
You raise your eyebrows at him. "Still nowhere near close to you."
"That's what a lot of people say," he brushes it off.
"Way to brag there, Joon," you snort, then immediately freeze in place so suddenly that you nearly fall over again. "Wait—you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"
Namjoon's smile shows his dimples, and they deepen with his reply. "Not a bit." The song changes, playing the symphonic piece "Noel on Ice." Namjoon's face lights up, and he turns back to you with a wink. "Watch me?"
Nodding affirmatively, you release his hand and let him skate towards the center of the rink. His gaze remains on you as he spins to a stop in the middle, then turns his gaze downwards. Arms still at his sides, and his shoulders straighten. You await with bated breath for the next note.
The melody lifts, and Namjoon's arms follow suit. Piano notes drip across the chilled air, and the violin prompts an extension of his hands upwards. Then he moves, gracefully flowing from one movement to the next, as if this has been an ice dance built into his very being. The harp and cello urge him to move faster, spinning like a dancer across their stage.
Namjoon spins into the air, fully coming off the ice. Your hands fly up to cover your mouth out of fear, but he lands it with ease, shifting into his next series of steps like a professional. Flawless and practiced, he's caught the attention of everyone at the rink. As you look around, you see everyone else focused intently on the skater. Some even have their phones out to record. Not just one or two people, either; you see at least a half dozen with their cameras trained on Namjoon.
That in particular has you perplexed. Brows pulling together, you shift your eyes back to Namjoon. The piece is nearing its close, and he's moved back to the center of the ice. Twirling in place, he's moving like a spinning top. Always in a single place, so fast you can barely see, gracefully shaving ice under him so that snowflakes fall around him. He lowers, nearly sitting as he continues to twirl on one foot. The music grows to its crescendo. Slowly, he rises up and extends his hands towards the sky.
And then it hits you.
There's a reason why his face, his voice, and his presence is so familiar to you. You couldn't put your finger on it until just now, but the way he moves on the ice like he's the only one in the room — like it's a second home — brings you back to one of the first days you had in Seoul. That first day, at the Incheon Airport, the man you saw being bombarded with press and fans. Then again on the screens in the lobby of the immigration center. And again a few nights ago on the news.
RM Nam. South Korea's pride and joy, their greatest skater, the man bound for the Winter Olympics until a training injury earlier in the year put him out for the season. You're not into sports, but even you knew him by name and the tragedy that had occurred.
That legendary skater was the one in front of you now. He hadn't mentioned it, and you didn't suspect a thing until today. While definitely a shock, you can't help but be in awe of him even more. He isn't just good on the ice — he's like nothing you've ever seen.
As the music comes to a close, Namjoon skates to a halt. His spin finishes, and he ends with a ending pose bow. Clearly out of breath and shoulders heaving, his gaze shifts to you once again. Your smile widens, and you throw your hands up as you cheer. The others around you begin to clap, but you're by far the most enthusiastic one there.
Suddenly, Namjoon's persona returns to that of a shy and humble one. He bows again in the directions of the viewers, then scurries out from the center and back to you. Eventually, those around you begin to skate once more, ignoring the fact that one of the biggest sports icons in all of Korea is among them.
Namjoon runs a hand over his bleached hair, his smile sweet and his eyes a little nervous as he approaches. You shake your head in awe, letting a surprised laugh slip out.
"Okay, I see exactly what you're doing now. You suggested ice skating because you're Olympic-level! That's totally cheating, by the way."
Namjoon skids to a stop in front of you, as graceful as his takeoff. Without thinking, you reach your hand for his, which he gladly takes. "Figured it out finally, did you?"
"Call me stupid, but I honestly didn't see it until just now." You shove his shoulder with your free hand, only encouraging his teasing reaction. "RM: Guessing that's a stage name?"
He adjusts the beanie over his hair and gives an affirmative gesture. "Yeah, mainly to protect my privacy. Skating world can get pretty intense, sometimes."
You move your chin towards his shoulder, recalling that's where the injury occurred over the summer. "Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, totally okay. I go to PT a couple times a week. Mostly healed up, just can't compete for another few months. My coach has made me swear off skating until the New Year, but I figured it was worth throwing a little extra into trying to impress a pretty girl." He tilts his head to the side, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. "Did it work?"
Instead of responding verbally, you curl your finger towards you, a mischievous smile on your face. Namjoon lowers his head and skates closer to you. When he's within arm's reach, you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek. A giggle slips out as his eyes widen and his cheeks flush.
"So... Is that a yes?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, throwing your arms in the air and nearly falling over for the hundredth time that night.
Namjoon returns the chaste gesture to your temple as he helps you recover your balance. "Skate with me some more then?" he murmurs, adjusting your scarf around your neck with gentle fingers.
Your face hot and your stomach fluttery, you nod your response and loop your arm around his. "Only if you show me how to do that fancy twirl there at the end."
The idea has Namjoon laughing loudly. "That's my variation on the basic Scratch Spin, which took me about three months to nail perfectly in a routine."
"Then you'd better prepare to be here 'til February!"
After skating for hours, until both of you are exhausted and ready for food, Namjoon takes you to a nearby ramen shop that's close to the train station. It's a hole-in-the-wall, with less than five tables, but with ramen you're able to find a park bench and settle down there with your backs to the city lights and your eyes on the stars overhead. You each mostly in silence, just enjoying each other's company and the delicious food. You make sure to tell your companion how great the choice was, and you insist on coming back again soon.
After wrapping up the meal and seeing the late hour on your phone, Namjoon suggests you both start heading home. "Hate to have to take a bus at this hour instead of the last train," he snickers.
Fully in agreement, you let him take your hand again as the pair of you begin to walk back home. First on the train, then on the sidewalk the short distance to your apartment building.
As you turn the corner onto your short street, your apartment in sight, you rest your head against Namjoon's shoulder and sigh happily. "Thank you for today. It was just...magical."
"Christmas magic?"
You nod against his jacket, wistful and content. "Definitely."
Stopping outside your apartment, you turn towards him, not letting go of his hand. Namjoon gives you a content smile as he looks at you, one where his eyes glisten at his coming words. "Then I have a chance."
"At what?"
He reaches yet again for your scarf, moving it from around your lower face so he can cradle it in his hands. "Restoring your hope in the holidays, and your hope in yourself and your choices."
"Ooof, that's getting ahead of it, I think." You bite the inside of your cheek as a small tug of anxiety and sense of being lost pulls at the back of your mind.
But Namjoon is relentless in his pursuit, and for that you're grateful. "That's why I have two more days planned."
"Already?" you laugh.
"You bet!" he exclaims. "In fact, I'll pick you up at nine on Saturday, but don't wear a dress or skirt. Are you free then?"
"For you, absolutely."
His teeth show through his grin, and he leans forward to press a kiss between your eyebrows. The gesture is gentle and sweet, made even more so by the warmth of his hands on your cheeks through his gloves. Nevertheless, it leaves you breathless.
After a moment of silence, he pulls away and lowers his grasp, but you crave the contact as soon as he relinquishes it. He nods towards your apartment, as if saying, "I'm not leaving until you're home safe."
You take the hint and give a tiny wave as you enter your building. "Have a great night, Joonie," you whisper through the cracked door. "And thanks again."
Namjoon waves back. "Goodnight, [Y/n]. Sleep well."
Saturday can't come quickly enough. You find yourself smiling more often, a joyful feeling in your heart as you go about your work shift and college classes. Even the smallest and insignificant things feel a little easier. The weather wasn't just cold anymore; it was full of beauty and hope and Christmas spirit.
Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe he was helping you turn a corner.
Right before you're ready to head downstairs to meet Namjoon at the entrance, your phone begins to buzz. Lit up on the screen is an international number, but the area code is that of your old home. The butterflies of excitement die almost instantly, shriveling up into tiny balls of anxiety in your stomach.
Even though you ignore the call, you can't resist listening to the voicemail left behind. Putting your phone on speaker, you're shocked to hear your mother's voice wishing you a Merry Christmas, saying that she and the family miss you, and that they wished you would visit so you could clear up everything that went wrong over the summer. Your throat constricts at the sickly sweet tone; her voice always did drip in honey when she wanted something, she she was trying to manipulate her child. Between her conniving control and your father's lack of respect for privacy and personal boundaries, you remember all over again why you left.
You jump as your apartment bell rings, and the small screen by the door shows Namjoon at the entrance. "[Y/n], are you up there? I texted twice...not sure if you got those."
Looking down at your screen, you see that he's right. You have two unread texts from the last five minutes that you missed due to the unexpected caller. Shaking yourself out of it, you shoot him a quick response, close everything out, and head for the ground level.
"There you are!" Namjoon greets with a grin that almost makes you forget your mother's call.
Almost.
Forcing a smile and reply, "Sorry, I don't know why I didn't see your texts."
"No worries." He waves his hand as if to say it's nothing to worry about. "Are you okay? You seem bothered about something."
You glance up at him, unable to deny he looks slightly concerned. You mirror his laissez-faire attitude and brush it off. "Totally good. Heading to the station?"
"Not this time." Namjoon gestures towards the bike parked by the corner of the building. "You ready to go?"
"Both of us, on that? Are you sure that's safe?"
"Oh yeah! Trust me." He kicks the stand down and mounts the bike, patting the extended seat behind him. "I once rode up Namsan Mountain with Seokjin on the back of this thing, and let me tell you, he's a hell of a lot bigger than you."
Knowing he's probably right, you settle yourself on the seat behind him and wrap your arms tightly around his middle. It's probably not the most well-balanced thing in the world, but you trust Namjoon more than you buy into your fear of falling. "No skirts or dresses, huh?"
"Now you get it," he laughs, pulling out onto the bike lane on the street headed into towards the older side of the city. "Unless you'd like a wardrobe malfunction."
He picks up speed and gets to an easy pace down the street. It's fast enough to get to your location speedily but slow enough that you're able to stare at the beautiful buildings and wondrous landscape around you. Even the people have an aura of happiness caused by Christmas. Had it always been this stunning? Or had you been blind to it until just now?
"Seokjin, as in Kim Seokjin, your rival?"
"So you do watch the news," he sighs. "They aren’t portraying us as friends these days, are they?"
You shake your head and rest your chin on his shoulder. "Not really. I didn't know you were friends."
Namjoon shrugs his shoulders slightly, his voice monotone. "Yeah, well, we've known each other since we were seven, got into skating together around that time, and have been friends ever since. While I wish I didn't have to sit this one out, I couldn't be happier to have him representing South Korea at the Worlds — sorry, that's what we call the World Figure Skating Championships."
"Yeah, they're kind of painting you as opposites."
"That's just what the news does, I guess. Gossip and tabloids and fan-wars. I fell on the ice and hit my shoulder pretty hard; it had nothing to do with Seokjin. He and I talked before I left, too. We're on good terms. Most of us from South Korea are friends, actually. We only get represented as enemies because it's a competition. But a lot of times we're on the same flights, in the same hotels, in the same training areas, you get the idea."
Namjoon pulls up to a stoplight at a near empty intersection, waiting silently for it to shift colors. "Is that what you meant by change of career?" you inquire.
"You're observant," he chuckles.
You turn to rest your cheek on his back. "For what it's worth, and keep in mind that I don't know the first thing about figure skating or your injury or anything like that, but as someone on the outside looking in, you're still so talented. Last week, when you were skating alone, I couldn't tell at all you were injured, and you looked like you were really enjoying it. I don't know if that means anything to you coming from a novice, but if you're still in love with skating and want to get back out there, I think you should go for it. You're still spectacular to watch, Joonie."
There's a beat of silence, but then Namjoon glances over his shoulder and winks at you. "Would you come see me perform live if I did?"
Shrugging your shoulders, you state, "Why not?"
He laughs at your silly expression, then begins to move the bike again as the light finally shifts. "That actually means a lot, [Y/n]. Thank you."
The rest of the ride is quiet, at least until you begin to hear the sounds of a bustling outdoor market. Namjoon turns the final corner, and you're elated with the stone street in an older part of Seoul. Vendors in various booths stretch out in every direction. Some sell food or drink, some sell trinkets or clothing, some even sell vintage books or vinyls or movies. Every nook and cranny has something special to offer. The sights, smells and sounds bring an enormous smile to your face as Namjoon steadies the bike to a stop beside the bicycle rack.
You hop off with his help, nearly bouncing up and down from excitement as he parks and locks his bike on the stand. "This is amazing!" Turning to him, you catch him off-guard with a tight embrace, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him down to you.
Namjoon seems amused by your eager reaction, and he pulls you closer to him. "I thought you would like it. There's nothing quite like Christmas than a market."
After letting him go, you press a kiss to his cheek as you lower back down to your level. Namjoon's hands tenderly cradle your face, just like last time, only today he's glancing away from your eyes and down to your lips. As your heartbeat quickens, you pull him back to you, fingers grasping at his winter jacket.
His voice is deep and soft as he asks, "May I...?"
Your cheeks flush as you nod your approval. Namjoon's dimples deepen as he lowers his face to yours, barely brushing his lips against yours in the gentlest kiss you've ever had. You close the distance, tugging at his jacket so he moves closer. He gives a tiny laugh against your mouth, then follows your guidance to deepen the kiss. One hand slips back to your hair; he gently plays with the strands.
A moment later, and you're sighing as he pulls away, both light-headed and light-hearted. Namjoon smiles down at you, gives you a surprising second peck, then pulls back with a chuckle. "You're a really cute kisser, y'know that?"
You drop your head and hide your face in the front of his coat. "Shut up."
Your companion's laughter echoes in the air around you as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and places his lips briefly on the top of your head. "Are you hungry? I know where we can get the absolute best Tteok-kkochi."
Eventually you lift your head and nod, feeling your stomach rumble at the thought of rice cake skewers. Namjoon moves his arm from around your shoulders, taking your hand instead, and ushers you into the first aisle of the Christmas market.
If it was magical from the outside, it's even more so from within. Somewhere in the distance, you hear holiday music playing. Not the commercial Christmas songs you're used to, but instrumental music that plays perfectly with the sounds of the market crowds. You're awestruck by every single booth you pass, and Namjoon promises to take you back to all of them after you grab a bite to eat.
Which are well worth the walk into the interior of the market. The Tteok-kkochi are cooked to perfection, drowned in a sauce, and by far the best you've ever had. Even after circling back to the booths you missed on the way, you beg Namjoon to lead you back to get another set.
"I've found heaven," you exclaim dramatically, taking the next two from the cook behind the counter and hanging one to your companion. "I'll never have rice cake skewers this good again."
After paying, you spot a section of the market decorated with lights and colorful orbs, much like the decorations you're used to seeing in the West. "Can we go over there next?"
Namjoon spots where you're pointing and eagerly agrees. The pair of you make your way towards the greenery and decor, amazed at the giant Christmas trees decorated to perfection on the periphery of the market.
"That's a massive tree," he gasps, staring upwards. "Are those normal in America?"
"Maybe at a mall or outside a hotel or something," you reply, equally as taken back. "I've never seen one that big in person in a long time."
As you peruse the Christmas section of the market, slipping from booth to booth as the clock strikes Noon, Namjoon asks, "Have you decorated your apartment at all? I know it can be kinda hard to find stuff in Korea like you're used to."
"Not really," you admit in passing. "Between work and school and, y'know, starting a new life in a foreign country, the holidays kinda fell on the back-burner."
Namjoon taps your shoulder, ushering your attention towards the old, American Christmas movies booth a few spots away. You gasp and rush over with renewed excitement, eyes scanning eagerly over the shelves. They have just about everything, from the classics like "It's A Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol" to movies you grew up on like "Home Alone" and "Elf." The more you sort through the outdated DVDs, the bigger your smile gets.
"What's your favorite Christmas movie?" Namjoon asks, casually looking through the Christmas vinyls on the booth next to the movies.
"Without a doubt, Ron Howard's 'How The Grinch Stole Christmas.'"
"The one with Jim Carrey?"
"You know it!"
He laughs. "Yeah, my little sister and I watched it a lot when we were kids."
Your head perks up at the mention of a sister. "I didn't know you had siblings, either."
Namjoon nods. "Yeah, she's in college, too. Studying to be a psychologist."
"She sounds amazing."
"Yeah, the family is very proud. I know I am." He pulls out a vinyl for one of Frank Sinatra's Christmas records. "Do you have siblings?"
At the question, your gaze shifts back to the movies, hands preoccupied with finding the perfect one. "I do. A brother and a sister."
"Older?"
"Yeah..."
"What are they like?"
"A lot like my parents," you sigh, moving on to another shelf, turning your back to your companion. "Which is part of the reason I left, so..."
Namjoon senses your anxiety around the topic and rests a hand on your shoulder as he passes by. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize--"
You cut him off with a casual wave of your hand. "It's no worries, really." Spotting the record under his arm, you ask, "Find one you like?"
While he doesn't seem to buy your act, he lets the conversation go and holds up the vinyl for "Tales of Noel on Ice" by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, as performed by the Seoul Philharmonic Orchestra.
"You don't already have that one?" you gawk in surprise.
"I don't actually," he admits bashfully. "The title composition is one of my best free skate performances, and I have a record player at home, so why not?" He gestures to the movies. "Did you find one?"
"Oh, I don't need one! I was just looking. I don't even have a DVD player anymore."
"I do, so pick one out and maybe we can watch it sometime."
You shake your head at him, trying to subdue a chuckle. "A record player and a DVD player? You're so odd."
"But to your benefit," he reminds you with a wink, pulling out a single movie nearest him. It happens to be your favorite with Jim Carrey in all his hilarious glory on the front.
Cocking an eyebrow, you give a tiny round of applause at the luck of pulling that film out of all the others. "Well, you're going to have to invite me over sometime then."
"You can count on it."
For the next couple hours, Namjoon and you make your way through the entire market, hitting all the shops that interest and intrigue you. All the while, you talk about a plethora of things and get to know each other letter. For instance, you find out that he was born in Ilsan, not too far from where you are now, and that he hates seafood just about as much as mint chocolate. You also find out that he looks like his mother, who was the one that got him into skating to begin with. And to no one's surprise, Namjoon is actually very funny. Not only is he smart, athletic, and good looking — which alone would have caught your attention — he's got a wicked sense of humor to top it all off.
Likewise, he learns more about you. You tell him about the city you grew up in, the friends you had in high school, what you studied before you came to Korea. You tell him that along with your studies, you're really invested in writing and try to make time for that as well. It hasn't been so easy since the move, but you're hoping to get back to it in the new year.
As you approach mid-afternoon, and the final leg of the market, your phone begins to buzz. Your screen lights up with the same foreign number as before. Instantly, both your feet and your heart stop. Your shoulders tense up, and you turn to a blissfully unaware Namjoon, saying, "Hey, I gotta take this. You go on ahead."
"Are you sure?" he asks, the person in front of him not the same happy-go-lucky one as before.
You give him a nod of reassurance. "I'll catch up."
Before he can reply, you've turned and moved towards the massive Christmas trees, where there's an opening and the crowds are quieter. Despite what you told him, you don't intend on answering. Whoever is on the other end of that line, be it your mother or father or siblings, you want nothing to do with them. You do, however, want this to be over. You promise yourself to hear the message, block them, and then go run an errand after the holidays to get a new number.
After the call drops, you wait with an anxious feeling building in your stomach. Maybe they didn't leave a message. Maybe it wasn't your family after all. Maybe —
A soft ping alerts you that you have a new message. Selecting it, you raise your phone to your ear and hear your father this time. He repeats all of what your mother said, only with a layer of frustration and authority that she didn't use. He's borderline cruel as he spouts the same old lies that you're trying to unlearn; it's your fault, it's because of you, you're the cause of it. What it is, depends on the day. This time is has to do with your family not being the same and their world falling to pieces. He uses colorful sentences, well-crafted insults, but all you hear is blame, blame, blame.
Tears prick your eyes as the voicemail ends, and you realize you should've just deleted the message when you had the chance. A small part of you still hoped they would change, even after all this time, but you see now that it's not possible.
They will never change, and neither will you.
The pit of depression weighs down in your stomach, and loneliness tingles at the back of your throat. Why now? Out of all the times, out of all the days, why are you feeling these things now? You're out having an adventure with a man who you really like, and who you know likes you, in a city you now call home. You're far from any sadness or trauma or family or friends that once brought you down. You've left your past behind. You'd started to feel like there was hope in the holidays and in the future again, like the last year was worth the pain, like everything was starting to turn around.
But suddenly, that snake is wrapped around you again, pulling you back into old habits and old ways of thinking. It's grabbed on tight and is pulling you back into the dark, away from people you care about, away from people who care about you.
Even as you glance up at Namjoon a few stalls away, completely naïve to the painful flickers going through your mind, you feel the need to draw back. Pull away. Stay away. Go back to the security of the known, of the sad, of the lonely. It's warm and comfy, even if it hurts.
Clenching your fists, you try to silence the noise in your brain by shaking your head. The thoughts only grow louder, and the pit in your stomach gets heavier. You haven't felt a depressive episode like this in a long time. You thought they were long gone, especially now, especially with him...
"[Y/n]? Are you okay?"
Looking up, you see Namjoon's approaching you in the clearing. One hand carries the movie and vinyl he purchased for you both, but the other is outstretched towards you. While you don't pull away from his touch, you taste bile in the back of your throat.
"I—I need to go home," you mutter. "I'm starting to feel sick."
"Oh, okay, hold up I'll go get my bike and I'll take you home."
Feeling your breath quicken, you pull your gaze from Namjoon and nod shakily. The walk back to the bike rack is silent, even the crowd outside fades to a low background murmur. Namjoon places the purchased items in his bicycle carrier, then mounts it.
You follow suit, regret beginning to pile up inside you. Running isn't going to help anything, and you know he must be hurt and confused. But to you, the only thing you can do right now to protect yourself is get away from it all and go back to the place where you feel safest.
Tears burn your eyes as you curl up against him. Namjoon pedals speedily to your apartment, making the trip faster than last time. When he pulls up to the curb, you hop off without a word.
"Do you need me to walk you up?" he offers, worry causing his brows to pull together.
You shake your head and put distance between you both. "No, I'm fine. I'll...text you later, okay?"
Without another word, you turn and enter through the front, leaving Namjoon behind on the other side. Trekking up the stairs, through the door, past a mewling Mochi, you curl up on your bed and let yourself finally feel all the sadness piled up inside.
Fifteen minutes later, the waterworks flow when your phone lights up from an incoming text. Knowing exactly who it is, you grab it and text a swift message to Namjoon.
"I'm so sorry I left so suddenly. And that I ruined our day. Not feeling like myself."
"That's okay. I just got home, so I wanted to check up on you. I'm sorry you're not feeling well. Do you need anything?"
"No, but thank you."
"Okay... Maybe we can try again some other time? I'd hate to let you down on Day 2."
Unable to reply, the phone turns black and you let it fall onto the duvet.
The days leading up until Christmas Eve were long and full of guilt. You closed the café for the final time the Monday before the holiday, and with no classes to attend, you mainly stayed inside and watched the snow fall outside your tiny apartment window. Mochi kept you company, but even the small fur ball could sense that something had changed for the worse. Even she had gotten used to you being happier this December; you'd taken two steps back while attempting to take a single step forward.
Every morning, you'd spot Namjoon riding his bike past your apartment on his way to the rink where he trains. Every day, he'd stop and gaze up at the building, never sure which frosty window you were behind but melancholy just the same. He'd call and text; the former, you would never answer, but the latter, you did sporadically. Mainly at night when you thought he wouldn't be up.
He usually was.
"Was it something I did?" he asked that Tuesday before Christmas. "Did I move too fast? Did I say something I shouldn't have?"
"No. It's not you."
"Then tell me what it is. I don't want to come across as pushy, but I thought we were getting closer...and then you pull back and hide from me. From everyone. I know I don't know everything about your past or what happened before you came to Seoul, but I promised you three adventures. I still have one to make good on before Christmas."
"Joonie..."
You couldn't bring yourself to write more. The tiny part of your brain that told you that maybe this can work, maybe it's worth trying, maybe things can be different now, it was silenced by the overwhelming majority of your mind. It remembered everything from your past, from the hurt and pain, from the loneliness and fear. Despite your wish to make things right again, it was drowned out by the pure terror of being wronged again.
"Don't shut me out. Please. Let me show you things can be different now. You don't have to go at this alone, [Y/n]. Not anymore."
Pushing down the urge to cry yet again, you move your fingers to type a swift and cold reply. "I'm so sorry I wasted your time, Namjoon. I really am. I thought I was ready, but it's clear that I'm not. Please, spend Christmas with your family. Don't waste any more time on me."
And that was the end of it. You muted his notifications, ignored his calls and texts, and eventually he went silent. The day before Christmas Eve was the first you didn't hear from him, and it was the first day you felt like you'd truly fucked things up for good.
On Christmas Eve, you got an unexpected call from Lisa. Deciding to take a break from staring at an empty Word document with ever-growing frustration, you answered the call, only to be bombarded by Lisa's rambling.
"Oh, thank god! I didn't think you'd answer! I need a huge favor, and I hate to bother on such short notice on Christmas Eve, but this really cannot wait and I'll love you forever if you—!"
"—Okay, okay," you chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.
"I need you to run back to the café and grab something for me. Jungkook is on his way there, but he doesn't have a key."
"What could you possibly have left that's this important?"
"My fucking credit card."
"You've been out of town for two weeks and only just now realized you left your card?"
She heaves a frustrated sigh. "Please, just, do me this favor?"
Rolling your eyes, you pull yourself from the sofa and grab your keys on the counter. "Fine, but you owe me."
"Yes, yes, I know."
You leave the apartment in a hurry, taking the next train to the café. In less than fifteen minutes, you're at the front door. Lisa assures you that Jungkook is on his way, only twenty minutes away. After unlocking it, you make yourself at home in the lobby with a fresh white chocolate mocha. It reminds you of Yeongu, and you smile at the thought.
After about a half hour, your phone begins to buzz in your pocket. Lisa's text has you halting in place.
"I'm sorry to do this. You didn't really give me another choice. I crossed a line, but I think you'll thank me in the end."
Your fingers are swift typing a response. "What did you do?"
"You remember how you gave me a spare key in case you ever got locked out? Or in case you were kept at school too long and needed someone to feed Mochi?" A pause, then she adds, "He came to Busan, [Y/n]. He asked me in person what to do. Do you know how out of the way that was for him? Give him another chance. Please."
"You didn't."
"I did. I'm sorry, but you've talked about how you pull away when you get close to people. It's gone on for almost a week. It's Christmas Eve. You can hate me all you want later, but please. Go home, kiss and make up, then try to salvage Christmas."
A huff of air exits your nostrils as it hits you. Lisa's given the spare to Namjoon. Jungkook was never on his way; this was all a rouse to get you out of your apartment long enough for him to get inside. But to what end?
"He's good for you; I can tell that much already. If you ever were to give someone the benefit of the doubt and place your broken pieces in someone's hands, he's the best you're gonna find."
A pang of truth rocks through you, and while you have still a semblance of willpower, you shoot her a swift text and rush back for the station. "I'm still mad at you, but we'll talk later. I need to get home."
"Go get him!"
The series of stairs up to your apartment never felt so long. Out of breath and winded from rushing home, you find the door unlocked. Pushing through, the place you left less than an hour ago isn't the same as it was before.
The entrance hallway is glittering, multi-colored strands of twinkle lights hanging along the periphery. Fake snow lines the trim, and paper snowflakes are tossed across the furniture. Each one is unique and hand-crafted.
As you venture further, a rainbow array aurora covers your living room and kitchen. There must be at least a dozen lengthy strands of Christmas lights hung across the few items you've unpacked, circled around the sealed boxes, and framing every window and door. Fake icicles hang on the windowsill, fake greenery lays where curtains should be, and a small Christmas tree stands at your height in the corner.
Jovial, English holiday music plays softly in the background. And humming along to the tune of The First Noel, Namjoon stands with bent-back facing you. He's finishing his final touches on the tree, ensuring that each sparkling orb and shimmering tinsel is perfect. He adjusts the star on the top with a smile to himself, oblivious still to your entrance.
For a moment, you stand in silence and watch him. Your heart is heavy but still beating. If anything, seeing him in the midst of such a sweet and selfless act makes it flutter. Even after cutting his well-planned adventure short, ignoring him for over a week, and telling him to stop speaking to you, he's still here. He came back, and he's trying to prove to you the truth he's been spouting all along.
Eventually, you blink out of your stupor and clear your throat to alert him to your presence. Namjoon turns on his heel, elbow grazing the tree just enough to send it toppling backward. He curses and lunges for it, grabbing it by the star just in time to keep it upright. His characteristic clumsiness prompts a snicker from you, one that you attempt to hide with your hand over your mouth.
Namjoon adjusts the tree and turns back to you with a bashful expression. His lips pull into a side-smile, a single dimple popping out in the process. "H—Hi..."
"Hi," you repeat back to him, letting your hand fall. Your eyes follow suit and drift to your damp, snow-covered shoes.
A beat of silence passes where neither of you knows what to say next. Then the both of you break it at once, words tumbling over each others several times in a row. You laugh to yourself and look back up at him; Namjoon smiles down at you, shaking his head at the awkward reunion.
He gestures silently to you. "Go ahead."
You clear your throat, then say, "I...I wanted to say that I owe you an apology."
He shakes his head firmly, extending his hands in a olive-branch manner. "No, you don't—"
Your feet move back, putting space between you both. "—Can I explain and finish, please? Just...hold your forgiveness until then." At your request, your companion falls silent, letting his hands fall respectfully at his side. Taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, you re-calibrate your mind and prepare for your admission.
"There's a lot you don't know about me yet," you begin softly. "Ah, shit — That came out super mean. I mean, you know a lot about me. You kinda know why I moved to Korea, the situation with my family back in America, that whole thing. You know where I work and what I'm studying. You know my favorite drink of all time is a white chocolate mocha, and that my favorite customer is barely four feet tall. You know Lisa is my shield at work, and that we've become pretty close in less than a year. You know I'm a homebody and that my favorite thing to do by myself is play with Mochi and watch dramas."
You release a huff of air and raise your eyes to meet his, a wistful smile tugging the corners of your lips. "But there's a lot I haven't told you — or anyone for that matter. I've gone through...a lot of shit this year. When I moved to Seoul, my mental health was in the trash, and my self worth was in shambles. I'd just been shoved from everything I'd ever known into a foreign place."
When you pause for a moment, Namjoon's small and steady voice pipes up with a single inquiry. "I thought you left willingly?"
"I did," you state. "I've wanted to move to South Korea for a long, long time. Since I can remember. But I never thought I'd lose everything before then." Tears prick your eyes, and you lift your sleeve to wipe your nose. "Sorry."
"Don't be." Namjoon gestures towards the small sofa, and you follow his lead. You perch on a single cushion, legs folded underneath you. He takes the adjacent one, far enough to for personal space but still close enough to rest a hand on your knee. This time, you don't push him away as you catch your breath. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"No, I do, but maybe not now." You take another breath in and focus your thoughts. "I didn't mean to start all that with the intention of being the victim and making you feel bad for me. I...I told you that because I wanted you to know that there are reasons why I push people away. I've been on a journey to heal that trauma all year, but it doesn't happen overnight. But even with that, I never should have just left like that. I never should have ignored your calls and texts. I shouldn't have made you feel like you were the bad guy, or that any of this was your fault, or that you did anything wrong. You were—"
You struggle to find a word that fits what you're truly feeling, one that doesn't feel overwhelming, but the only one that comes to mind is... "You are perfect, Joonie. You're sweet and kind. You treat me like a normal person that's worth something, and I think part of me was scared of that. Especially around the holidays, I feel very fragile, and I run from things I think might hurt me."
"I would never, ever hurt you." Namjoon flashes a soft and empathetic smile. "Can I ask why you got spooked so suddenly? You looked off when I picked you up, and I know you said it was nothing, but..."
You pull your phone from your pocket and play the message for him, the one from your mother. And when he remains silent, you play the second from your father. While he listens, you watch him. The hand on your knee turns to a fist, and his jaw clenches. Part of you is relieved that someone else is reacting negatively to the messages, yet another signal to you that your choice is validated.
"I got the first that morning, but the second right before I left," you murmur. "I didn't respond, and I've blocked the numbers, but I've felt unstable since then. That's why I shut down, and why I left."
He nods, then turns off the phone. "You don't have anything to be sorry for. That's emotional abuse and manipulation. No one should have to go through that."
"I know, but I was wrong. I'm sorry for doing that and for hurting you. It was wrong, and I don't deserve you coming back again and again...even if you concocted this up with Lisa."
At your light-hearted comment, he chuckles and bites the inside of his cheek. The fist on your knee loosens back, his fingers tapping gently against your skin. "She told you, did she?"
"Yep," you chirp. "I'll thank her later."
After a moment, Namjoon's eyes flicker back up to yours. For a moment, he almost looks worried. "Are you mad?"
"Meh." For a moment, you're able to hold your composure long enough for your companion's eyes to widen in horror. "I'm just kidding," you relent, and Namjoon looks visibly relieved. "How could I be mad? Look at all this!" You gesture to the magical space around you. "It looks like a wonderland in here."
A crimson hue fills his face, and he's all of a sudden very shy about the accomplishment. "I wanted you to feel like you had a Christmas, even if it was just for one night."
Leaning your head against the back cushion of the sofa, you stare at him with a bittersweet smile on your face. "Are you mad at me?"
He shakes his head, expression more adamant about that than anything he's said so far. "Not a bit. I was worried, yes, and maybe a little disappointed. I think most of that was tied to the fact that I thought we were on the up-and-up. I saw you slowly opening up and having a good time."
"Gahhh," you groan, eyes fluttering shut with frustration at your past self. "I really fucked it up, didn't I?"
"Not really." His hand slips up your knee, and he weaves his fingers through yours. The squeeze he gives and the gaze he locks gives emphasis to his next words. "I know I don't know everything about you, just like you don't know everything about me, but I'd be lying if I said you aren't the most joyful thing I've experienced in a while. Being around you makes me happy, and the fact that this has you so down makes me want to be there for you — if you want me to. I don't blame you for anything you've done, so you have nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, after hearing those messages and some of what you've been dealing with this year, I know I would've reacted the same way. But, if it helps your peace of mind, then I forgive it all."
"Thank you," you whisper, trying to blink away the tears pricking your eyes.
Namjoon's gaze softens, and he tugs on your hand. "C'mere." You scoot closer, and he pulls you the rest of the way onto his lap and into his arms. Your legs dangle off the side of his thighs, and your head nestles in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. One hand holds tightly to yours while the other circles your waist, dipping under your sweater to rub soothing circles on your skin. Your free arm wraps around his waist, pulling him even closer than before.
"Sometimes terrible, inexplicable things happen to us and it takes us months — even years — to process." Namjoon's timbre is quiet and deep, rumbling against your ear as he speaks. "Everyone goes through that, even me. But it's so much harder to face it alone. Sometimes it takes a lonely, awful Christmas to see just how out of sorts you are. I don't know everything, but if you'll have me, I'd like to stick around to find out."
"You'd still be willing to get to know me more, even after seeing me at my worst?"
"Jagi, if this is your worst, then I would hate to introduce you to sixteen-year-old Kim Namjoon. That boy was a train-wreck."
Letting a watery smile show as laughter escapes your lungs, you reach upward and wrap your arms around Namjoon's neck. He pulls you closer, hands splayed on your back and waist. A sense of relief, and something like home, floods through you. Burying your face in his neck, you allow yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. Ever patient, your companion just holds you close as you come back around.
"Enough with the heavy," he breaks the silence, pulling back and wiping his thumb across your cheeks. Nodding towards the front of the space, where your television is, you follow his line of sight. "I brought your movie and the player. If you're okay with me staying over, do you wanna watch it?"
Leaning forward, you bring your face closer to his, murmuring, "I'd love that."
Namjoon closes the final distance. Both your eyes and his flutter shut as your lips meet in the middle. You tug on the collar of his sweater, encouraging him closer as his arms tighten around your waist. In a burst of bravery, you run your hand through his platinum hair and nip at his bottom lip. He inhales abruptly, and you giggle in response.
"You're gonna be the death of me, [Y/n] [Y/l/n]," he laughs, eventually pulling back to catch his breath.
You grin mischievously at him, biting your lower lip. "Still sure you wanna stay?"
"Definitely. Oh! And I placed an order for takeout, which should be here any minute."
You burst into laughter, resting your forehead against his shoulder as joy fills your body. "You really put all your chips on me coming to my senses, didn't you?" When he shrugs, you add, "What if I had said no?"
"Then I would've been eating for two alone in my apartment," he groans.
You shake your head at his antics and playfully poke the dimple in his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Joonie.”
His smile deepens at your words and gesture. “Merry Christmas, [Y/n].”
Just as he promised, food arrives at the front of your apartment a few minutes later. Namjoon hops up and volunteers to get it from the entrance, and you pop the movie into the player. Silencing the music on his phone, you select the "Play" option from the menu, and the credits begin to play over Anthony Hopkins' narration as your companion returns.
He serves up the food and delivers it to you on the sofa. With a rumbling stomach, you take it gratefully. Just as the singing begins, Namjoon settles into the seat beside you, hooking your leg over his so you maintain closeness as you devour the takeout. Neither of you have seen it in so long, and thus both of you are laughing whole-heartedly at every joke and hilarious mannerism.
After the meal is finished and the dishes are on the makeshift box side-table, you find yourself slowly slipping closer to your companion. Namjoon gladly pulls you closer, and by the middle of the movie, you're back in his lap. With the blanket wrapped around you both, his chin on your head, his arms around you with one hand tracing absent-minded patterns on the skin above your pants, you know you've never been more at home in Seoul than you are right now.
"I'm sorry I ruined your grand plans for Day 3," you murmur after a while.
Namjoon's hand on your waist halts, then changes to a reassuring, tapping pattern. "Be glad you did; this is way better than anything I had planned."
"While I have to agree, what did you have planned?"
You can hear his smile in his voice. "Well, honestly I hadn't decided between Lotte World or Seoullo 7017. You said you hadn't been to either of those, and at Christmas, they're magical. All the lights, the music, it's an absolute winter wonderland."
"Well, if I get to see you skate live, then we can definitely go to those after the solar New Year. Maybe...Maybe even call it a date?"
Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead, one that makes you grin to yourself and sigh peacefully. His reply is loud and clear, a promise reverberating through his chest. "I think that sounds perfect."
As the movie continues, you relax and think back on everything that's happened this year. All your concerns and worries you had a few weeks prior, at the beginning of December, they all seem so far away now. Even those anxieties brought up recently feel as if they're resolved. he sense is comparable to that of a chapter ending and a new one is being written. And this time, you're the one holding the pen.
At the resolution of the film, you realize that what Namjoon set out to do over a series of adventures truly did come to fruition. Be it luck or fate or whatever you want to call it, he really has given you that spark of hope in the Christmas season. It's something you thought you'd lost, or perhaps you'd left it in America along with many other things. He's brought it back to life, and so much more along with it.
All that magic, all that wonder, all that love and hope and joy — Namjoon is right. It hasn't disappeared from the world, and you haven't outgrown the things you used to feel during the holiday season. It's all still right here, in front of you and around you, waiting to be taken with grateful hands and heart. Maybe it's not in the form it used to be, nor is it in the place it used to be, but neither are you. Both you and your home have changed this year. But despite it all, you are still here, still striving to love yourself and your new life, still trying to let the magic find you.
And this year, because of a wonderful person named Kim Namjoon, you had all the love and magic you could ever need.
#bangtan-madi writes#christmas collab#bts christmas collab#bts christmas fic#christmas oneshot#christmas fic#holiday fic#holiday oneshot#bts#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#namjoon#kim namjoon#rm#rm x reader#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon x reader#strangers to lovers#bts x reader#kim namjoon oneshot#namjoon oneshot#namjoon fic#kim namjoon fic#rm fic#rm oneshot#kpop#figure skater au#figure skater!namjoon#cafe au#barista!mc
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Welcome to the Coffee Shop of Wonders! ☕☕
I still can’t believe it but we’ve reached 1000 followers! It still baffles me to have come this far, I’m grateful for the people I’ve met here and the way tumblr has inspired me to chase my dreams once again and as a thank you I decided to host a little event (the pole results showed that you guys wanted an even but jokes on you I’m doing the giveaway anyway)
The reason for making it a Coffee Shop AU based event is that I’m obsessed and just love the idea of meeting someone there (♡°▽°♡)
Below the cut there are 20 prompts and you can choose once, when all the prompts are taken I’ll be closing my ask box! So 20 spots total!
Askbox open! You may send in your orders after you read this post!
Notice Board:
All my fandoms are welcome!
Please specify who is gonna be the barista or not in the AU, I’ve never done it before but I swear I’ll delete the requests who don’t specify.
Send me 3 prompts just incase and I’ll pick the one you favor the most.
Mind my regular rules! (clickable)
☕ For an extra dash of angst add alcohol to your order!
☕ For an extra dash of smut add cinnamon to your order!
Again thank you for the support and enjoy your visit at the Coffee Shop!
Menu
Affogato - clearly you’re going through a bad breakup because this playlist is the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard and I’m begging you please change it
Americano - I order the same thing as my boss in case something happens to their coffee and one day, you write your number on the cup I give to my boss
Caffe Latte - I hired you to make drinks not flirt with every customer that walks in and how dare you accuse me of jealousy, get back to work
Caffe Mocha - you were a dick to my coworker so I’ve been writing insults on your cups and why the hell do you keep coming back here anyway?
Cappuccino - I’ve been working on this essay/project/article/etc. for the last ten hours and I’ve barely moved so you come over to give me something to eat and ask if I’m okay
Cold Brew Coffee - you were rude so I insult you and you just left a $50 tip??? who the fuck do you think you are?
Espresso - this shop is really busy but I need their wifi, so could we share this table?
Caramel Macchiato - we’re working on our school project in this cafe and I’m pretty sure my group just figured out that I have a crush on you
Flat White - I’m on the worst blind/Tinder/Grindr date and you ‘accidentally’ dump a drink on my date to save me
Frappe - my umbrella broke and I just stepped into your shop soaking wet and you run upstairs to get me some towels from your apartment and I’m sorry I’m crying but this is the nicest thing that’s happened to me all week
Iced Latte - my AC isn’t working at my apartment so I’ve been spending most of my spare time here and using your wifi and I think you’re flirting with me
Irish Coffee - I’ve been sitting in the break room wondering how to ask you out on a date when you come in and announce you were just asked out by a customer
Ristretto - you’re staring at me and I don’t know why until you tell me I’ve been singing along to my music and I’m mortified because I didn’t realize
Latte Macchiato - I noticed you were on ao3 reading smut and when you go up to get something else to drink from the counter, I realize you’re reading the fic I posted twenty minutes ago
Espresso Con Panna - I’m hosting a food-eating contest to raise money for charity at my shop and you seem to have an endless stomach that makes me a little concerned
White Chocolate Mocha - you walk into my coffee just before close looking like a runaway bride/groom/princess/prince/royalty so I stick around to keep you company
Iced Peppermint mocha - I’ve been getting really creative with my foam art and I do some naughty-bits to amuse my coworker on their drink when you mistakenly take it and think I’m hitting on you
Pumpkin Spice Latte - I’m a witch barista and I charm your drink so that you have a better day
Vanilla Latte - you read tea leaves as a hobby so I always bring my cups to you when I’m finished
Dalgona Coffee - you dropped to your knee to tie your shoe but suddenly, people are congratulating us on getting engaged and we just scored free coffee so we roll with it
used prompt list is here
#1000 follower mini event#coffee shop au#one piece#black clover#bnha#banana fish#given#obey me!#coffee shop au event
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Ack anon I'm sorry. Tumblr ate your ask and I'm 🔪 But I saved your ask to put on the Google Doc so don't fret! I have it!
“Hi Ghastie Ghast, I wanted to share a prompt with you lol. I decided to go more holiday theme’d because it’s never too early to get into the holiday spirit.
“Your favorite winter drink was back on the menu, so I decided to surprise you with it.”
Please enjoy this prompt lmao”
The nickname made me -_- but hi Little Gray Circle Dude With Sunglasses! Thank you for sending me this! I had fun writing it. I'm assuming you wanted a Destiel fic, so that's what I wrote! (Also bonus points for Saileen as a background ship?) I sort of strayed a little from the prompt and the tone gets heavier as it goes on… 👀 I also accidentally wrote more than intended, so you can read it on Ao3 if that's easier. (And maybe give it a kudos because you’re the best?)
Title: Black Coffee Derangement Syndrome
Ship(s): Dean Winchester/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy.
(Basic) Tags: Fluff, Slight Angst, Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker, Established Dean/Cas, Established Sam/Eileen, Using black coffee as a metaphor for hypermasculinity, With a whip cream style topping of internalized homophobia. *Finger guns.*
Warnings: Coffee gatekeeping and small sections of fluff that are as sweet as Cas’s Starbucks order. Also I’ve been to Starbucks once. Maybe twice? (Also a single mention of a drug that's commonly found as white powder, the non-descriptive comparison of Sam’s stupid health stuff with emesis, and use of the name that the figurehead for Germany in WW2 bore, just to be safe.)
Rating: T? Maybe? For language?
Word Count: 9k+
Quick thanks to my awesome beta @walksinstarllight! They are a poet and a writing sorcerer (wizard without a hat), and the only reason this fic even makes sense so please go shower them in kudos. (You can find their work here.)
Another thanks to @internetintroverts, who described a peppermint mocha to me in like 300 words because I drink black coffee and know nothing of anything ever. You can find their work here! (There's an Easter egg of one of their fics in this one hehe.)
The first thing Dean did when Cas got back from the Empty was give him coffee.
Okay no.
The first thing he did was fall into Cas’s arms and grip that stupid trenchcoat until his knuckles turned white. Shaking and laughing with hot tears streaming out of his eyes, he told him he was an asshole for leaving him like that. And to never, ever do it again. With blurry eyes and all other thoughts hazy, he told Cas he could have it, he could have what he wanted. Whatever he wanted. He told Cas he loved him too.
But then the next thing was coffee.
Caffeine is a hunter’s number one best friend, and since Cas was human again, Dean knew Sam was going to come at him with his stupid green health drinks and herbal tea. As Cas’s knight in shining armour, (a title used by Dean and Dean only), it was his duty to protect him from the disgustingly liquified rabbit food.
Now he expected Cas to like black coffee, you know, like a normal person.
But no, oh no. Apparently, he was dating a heathen.
Dean had to actually rub his eyes the first time he watched Cas fix his own coffee. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mouth agape.
Cas was leaning on the counter, humming some song that Dean could neither recognize, nor would he approve of, thank-you-very-much.
(Ok it was Champagne Problems by Taylor Swift and it's entirely possible he's listened to it once or twice but he still doesn't approve of it, thank-you-very-much.)
He held his yellow and black striped, bee-themed ceramic mug Eileen had bought him in one hand, and the entire five-pound bag of cane sugar in the other. And there he stood, happy as can be, pouring it directly into his mug.
Dean rubbed his eyes again.
And not even like, a normal amount either.
He just kept pouring, and pouring, and Oh my god he’s still pouring. Dean thought. It would honestly be more believable if it wasn’t sugar at all, and instead was in fact Cas’s secret stash of cocaine.
Dean might actually have to put sugar on the grocery list after he was finished.
His thoughts traveled back to Ishim doing the same thing with his coffee, in the tiny little diner Cas had set up as a meeting place. Dean had barged in that day, not thinking of his brother mocking him, or the possibility of danger inside. His vision was as tunneled as his thoughts focused only on Cas, not caring about anything else.
By that time the following day, Dean thought they were both going to die. The bloody and uneven sigil on the wall, Cas no more than ten feet away. Not quite within a comforting reach. The room was spinning from the blow to his head, and he could barely make out the words being spat from Ishim’s mouth.
“You blast me away, you’ll blast away every angel in the room. I’ll survive. Castiel, on the other hand, he’s hurt. He might live, or he might just end up a bloody smear on the wall.”
He almost lost Cas that day.
The blood rushed to his ears as his instincts sought out the mark on the wall. Ishim had told him to roll the dice, but in his head he couldn’t look past the chance of rolling a one. Watching the acrylic cube bounce until it decided Cas’s fate. There was no dilemma, there wasn’t even a decision to be made. He would always choose Cas over himself. Silent acts of care he could never vocalize.
An inability to speak formed from fear and cowardice. Like a lion in his stomach scratching at the words until they fell back down his throat.
And it was that inability to speak that led Cas to think he was nothing more than a tool for the Winchester’s to use.
He almost let Cas believe he meant nothing to him.
Dean cleared his throat. “Mornin’ Sunshine.”
Cas set down the bag of sugar and picked up the pot, the glass making a small clink as it hit the top of the coffee maker. “Goodmorning Dean. Would you like any coffee?” He greeted cheerfully, turning around like he hadn't just put enough sugar to make a pound cake in his coffee.
“Uh.” Dean was still caught off-guard by Willie Wonka over there. “Sure Cas.” He took the coffee pot from his hand and muttered a thank you.
“So,” Cas started while Dean reached into the cabinet for his own mug. “What ingredient do you suggest I put in my coffee this morning?”
“Uh...I don't know man. I drink my coffee black.”
“Yes I know you’re boring Dean, but you can still help me not be.”
“Black coffee isn't boring it's-”
“Dean, if you say ‘manly,’ I will sit you down and make you eat only spinach and kale for a week.” Sam said, walking into the kitchen, hair still spiked up from sleep. He used one hand to sign the words, his other one occupied by Eileen, who was sleepily shuffling closely behind.
Dean looked aghast. “I would starve.” He attempted to sign his indignant response, hands moving sloppily while holding both his mug and the coffee pot.
“I think that's the point.” Eileen said, laughing. She looked at Cas. “Is Dean gatekeeping your coffee aspirations again?”
“Yes.” He answered, ignoring Sam’s laugh and Dean’s huff of exaggerated outrage.
“Have you tried cinnamon?” Sam suggested. “You like Dean’s apple pie, and that has cinnamon in it.”
“I’m not so sure about that, Sam. Dean told me not to ever take cooking advice from you.“
“And I stand by that.” Dean interjected suddenly.
“I can cook!”
“Ehhh…” Eileen’s comment bought her a look of betrayal. “Though Sam may be right on this one, you might like it.” She shrugged.
“See.”
Cas pondered the thought for a moment. “Perhaps I will then.”
“Do we have nutmeg?” Eileen said, breaking away from Sam’s grip to check one of the cabinets. He walked to the other side of the kitchen, intending to look through the spice rack, knowing exactly what his girlfriend was getting at.
“You better not mess up my damn kitchen.” He said quickly. “Or you're organising them all next time.”
Sam rolled his eyes, knowing full well Dean would never let him organise the kitchen. Eileen looked through them, carefully turning the bottles around until the labels faced her. She pulled out the cinnamon and clove while she was looking for the nutmeg.
“Found it.” Sam called from the other side of the kitchen, walking over and putting a hand on Eileen’s shoulder.
“Thank you.” She said with a smile, grabbing the plastic spice jars.
She individually tossed each one to Cas. “Use these, it will taste like a pumpkin spice latte.”
“And don't forget the milk.” Sam added.
Cas scrambled to catch the spices, successfully grabbing two of them out of the air, the third one intercepted by Dean.
“What’s a pumpkin spice latte?” He looked at Eileen before snatching the bottle of cinnamon from Dean.
“It's a famous drink you can get at Starbucks.” Sam answered.
Cas tilted his head to the side and squinted at him. “What's a Starbucks?”
“You know, the coffee shop Alex and Patience drag Jody to all the time.” Dean said.
“I’m pretty sure Donna drags her there too.” Sam added. “Something about girl’s date night out.”
“The one Claire says is for ‘basic bitches’?” He lifted his hands, forming air quotes as he spoke.
“Yeah.” Dean answered, quietly laughing. “That's the one. She’s probably right, too.”
Cas carefully put the different spices in his coffee, eyeing the mug warily. His light brown coffee now had specs of...stuff in it.
(And unbeknownst to him, there was also a small pile of sugar at the bottom, the coffee so saturated it wouldn't dissolve any more.)
Eileen laughed at the look on his face. “It's good, I promise.”
Sam turned to look at her. “How would you know? Most of the time you get hot chocolate and spike it with bourbon.”
“You’re the one who gets a Pink Drink.”
Dean choked on his coffee. “What?”
“It's strawberry and coconut milk, and it's delicious.”
“Sure it is Sam.” Eileen jabbed.
“So what I'm getting here is that not only have you two been to Starbucks often enough to have a regular order, but Sam gets something called a ‘Pink Drink’?”
“No…” Sam started, trying to find a way to defend them. “Sometimes we…”
“...Make our own drinks.” Eileen snapped her fingers as she finished for him, attempting to save them from the endless stream of good-natured insults Dean would throw at them otherwise.
“Well you two are a real Martha Stewart, aren't you?”
“Yeah, except she's a convicted criminal.” Sam attempted to snark back.
“So are you!”
Before either of them could respond, Cas shoved his mug into Dean's face. “You have to try this, Dean. It tastes like pumpkin pie.”
Dean carefully grabbed the hot mug from Cas and took a sip. He was right, it did taste kinda like pumpkin pie. He took another sip, letting the pleasant flavor sit on his tongue. The different spices mixed perfectly together.
“I mean it's… okay.” He lied.
Dean contemplated his pumpkin themed food options. “Though I would rather just have pumpkin pie.”
Cas took his mug back. “Fine. More for me.” He said with a smirk, mimicking the look Dean gives him every time Cas says he doesn't want anymore bacon, before taking another sip of the makeshift pumpkin spice coffee.
Dean smiled at him, setting his own mug down and moving Cas’s out of the way to pull him into a kiss. He could smell the nutmeg almost as much as he could taste the cinnamon on his lips.
“Mmm we should bake pumpkin pie tonight.” He said, pulling away just enough so he could talk.
“I would like that.” Cas answered. “All four of us could make pie. According to the 'mom blogs', as you call them, it would be a good family bonding exercise.”
“That’s right. And if they want any pie, they gotta help make it. That means more for us if they refuse.” He grinned.
“A win-win situation, really.” Cas smiled before tugging Dean close so their lips met again.
“I love you.” Dean muttered.
“I love you too.” Cas said softly.
Behind their backs Sam and Eileen were fake-gagging at their sickly sweet interaction, but secretly just glad the two of them had finally gotten over their stubborn (and oblivious) selves.
Sam was honestly overjoyed to see his brother finally happy. He would even go as far as saying finally willing to be himself, too. (Not that he would ever say this outloud. Sam can practically see Dean’s eyes roll farther back into his head than should be possible at the words.) All four of them had gone through more shit in the last few months than any normal person would in their entire life. They were all just lucky to be alive, and with that, learning how to savour the little moments of overly sweet normalcy.
(And the pumpkin spice-life Dean had secretly been longing for since they were little kids.)
So of course they were going to help bake pie.
---
“I want to try Starbucks.” Cas said the next morning, both of them still in bed.
Dean groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “Can I ask why, or is this one of those, 'I'll tell you later’ disasters like with the slime ingredients?”
“I want to try all the human things that I didn't get to try last time.” He said offhandedly.
Dean pictured Cas’s hurt face when he had told him he couldn’t stay, smile broken as Dean’s own heart shattered from the look the newly-human angel was giving him.
He wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, that Cas himself wasn’t the reason, but the lion in his stomach clawed the words down faster than even the thought of ruining Sam’s chances at survival could.
With a pang of guilt from the memory, Dean pulled himself closer to Cas and rested his head on the other man’s chest. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to preserve as much warmth and comfort as he could until they had to inevitably get out of bed. “Only if you let me sleep like this for thirty more minutes.”
Cas smiled. “Oh, are we making deals now?”
“I’d sell my soul for you.” Dean said cheekily, which earned a glare from Cas. “Believe me, I know.”
After a beat he went on. “Fine, you have a deal.” Before Dean could celebrate by tugging the covers over their bodies, Cas added another clause to their agreement. “But... in true Crowley fashion, you have to seal the deal with a kiss.”
Dean lazily threw his arms into the air. “Victory.”
He turned over, pulling himself upwards until he was just inches from Cas. Cradling the angel-turned-Winchester’s head in his hands, Dean placed his lips on Cas’s, melting into the touch as he felt the other man’s arms wrap around his torso.
When he broke away from the kiss, Dean found himself face to face with the most beautiful smile he had ever laid eyes on, one born from adoration and love. Cas’s eyebrows were slightly scrunched up, but for once it wasn’t a sign of confusion when met with some obscure eighties rock reference. It was a tiny expression of care, and it was one that was truly Cas. Not Jimmy’s, not even one Cas had picked up from him or Sam. It was completely and wholly Cas, and a completely and wholly human thing to do.
He realized Cas had been doing that long before the Empty stole his grace.
Dean smiled back at him, relaxed. Like taking in a deep breath after being under murky water for forty years. He brushed a loose strand of soft, brown hair into its place, before falling back into his spot and closing his eyes. “Crowley would be proud.” He whispered with a soft laugh, smile deepening as Cas joined him.
When their quiet laughter died out, there was a pause, air stagnant and in its own sleepy haze
“Oh and Dean?”
“Hm?” Dean turned his head to look at him, eyes not failing to glow with their unusually bright, green pigment. He took a deep breath, the lids of his eyes already started to slowly fall back down again.
“The slime wasn't a disaster. You enjoyed it.”
“I did.” He muttered sleepily, a loose smile forming on his lips as he drifted off to sleep. Cas laid there, running his fingers through the other man’s hair, contentment and admiration showing itself in every feature on his face.
This was more than he could have ever wanted.
---
“Dean. Dean wake up.” Cas was excitedly whisper-shouting in his ear like a kid on Christmas morning. It was exactly thirty minutes later, (he had counted), and Cas was ready to get moving.
“No.” He answered back, mimicking Cas’s tone.
“But you’re like a cat.” He teased. “You're on me and I can't get up.”
Dean sighed. “I can't believe I let you talk me into this.”
“It didn't take much convincing.”
Dean rolled over to give Cas a playful glare, but was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen, completely throwing him off his guard.
“I'm going to kill Sam for teaching you that.”
Cas just continued to give him that look.
“Fine.” Dean relented, sitting up with a yawn and thinking about how he will now never be able to win another argument.
“Get dressed.” Cas said excitedly. “We're going to Starbucks.”
“Hooray.” He gave a sarcastic laugh, but a smile creeped on his lips.
They walked out of their room together, heading towards the bunker’s library. Dean slid in one of the chairs, turning Sam’s still-open laptop around and waking it up.
Cas, meanwhile, turned to a random page of the lore book resting on the table and started reading in an attempt to pass the time.
The sound of Dean typing filled the air. “So, I just looked it up, and do we have to go to Starbucks?”
“Yes.” Cas said simply, not looking up from the book.
Dean groaned. “Cas there isn't one in the county, let alone Lebanon. That's probably why Sam and Eileen make their own.”
“Where's the closest one?” Cas asked, his blinding, blue eyes glaring at the back of Sam’s computer like he was trying to will the coffee shop to be near.
“I thought it was across state lines and in Nebraska at first, but it looks like there's a small one in a town called Washington. It's about 80 miles from here.”
“Let's go!” Cas excitedly straightened his trenchcoat and headed towards the door.
“Or, we could leave Starbucks to the fourteen year old girls.”
Cas turned back around and rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m sure their entire demographic is fourteen year old girls, staff included.”
Alright, smartass. Dean thought, struggling to hide a smile.
Cas walked out the door, expecting Dean to follow.
“It takes an hour to get there, our coffee’s going to be cold by the time we get home, and it's freezing outside.” Dean muttered under his breath, but he grabbed his keys off the table and stood up, willing to follow Cas to the ends of the earth if it meant he would stay with him.
Not that he was going to enjoy this trip. In fact, he was currently doing the opposite of enjoying, and they hadn’t even gotten into the car yet. Starbucks. Starbucks. Really, Cas? Of all the places he wanted to go, it had to be Starbucks. He couldn’t want to explore humanity through Target or something?
Even Claire wouldn’t be caught dead in that place, with all the frou-frou toppings, elaborate drink mixes, and colourful, drizzled syrup. The people who go to Starbucks are the kind of people who like coffee that doesn’t taste like coffee. Teenage girls who might as well just be drinking whip cream, and that was without considering the seasonal drinks they fawn over.
Seasonal drinks that shouldn’t legally be allowed to be referred to as coffee.
Dean couldn’t believe he ever agreed to this, but still, he begrudgingly followed.
---
Using the GPS on Cas’s phone, (Dean said his insane directional skills helped out too), they found the Starbucks relatively easily once they were in the little town.
They parked the Impala, and Dean looked at the modern building. The green lettering contrasted with the tan plaster walls, spelling “Starbucks.”
He heard Cas get out, his feet making a crunching noise as they hit the gravel, and watched from across the top of the car as he started towards the coffee shop. Dean looked at the building warily, reluctance painted on his face.
Cas was telling him some random fact about a bird he saw, but Dean could only think about his reputation that was about to shatter like a vase dropping on tile floor.
Reputation with who? He didn't know.
Well, he had a vague idea, but chose not to let his thoughts wander that far.
It was okay. This was fine. He could swallow his pride and-
“Ooh. The peppermint mocha looks good.” Cas was reading the limited edition drinks on the drive-thru menu as they traveled across the parking lot.
Dean was going to barf.
They walked into the building, immediately hit with the overwhelming smell of excessive amounts of flavoured syrup indoused coffee. Dean glanced around the well-lit building, taking note of the many different people there.
(He wasn’t about to have any black-eyed minions reporting his Starbucks order to a very judgmental Queen of Hell.)
Cas pushed Dean’s protesting body into the line, looking pleased with the many different options written on the menu overhead.
He enjoyed the small touch of Cas’s hands on his back, moving him forwards to the line, but was grateful Cas was careful not to let them linger there too long.
He was still wary about doing… this, in public.
He knew Cas was patiently waiting for him to be ready, so he didn't know how to tell him that he might never be.
The teenager working the cash register interrupted his train of thought. “What will it be for ya?”
“I would like a peppermint mocha please.”
“Alrighty. And you?”
“I'll take just a black coffee.”
The barista looked unimpressed. “And your names?”
Dean grinned. “John and John.”
“No relation.” Cas added.
The barista just sighed. “How do you want me to differentiate the two of ‘em then?”
“Oh you can put ‘John Bonham’ on mine.” Dean replied.
“Comin’ right up.” Their tone didn't change, still just full of apathy that could only be perfected by the work of a burnt-out teenager.
Dean and Cas walked down to the end of the counter and towards the pickup section. “Now tell me, Castiel.” He stressed his partner’s name. “Who’s John Bonham?”
Cas sighed, but the corner of his mouth upturned in a grin. “John Henry Bohnham, affectionately referred to as ‘Bonzo’, born in 1948 and was most well known for being the drummer of the rock band ‘Led Zeppelin’.”
“Mmm very close, but unfortunately you forgot the word ‘best’ in front of ‘rock band.’” Dean smirked before leaning in for a chaste kiss.
“You should have said I was ‘John Bon Jovi.’” Cas said, smiling.
“Why? Because you’re only good at this sometimes?” Dean closed the gap between them.
As soon as their lips met, Dean pulled away instinctively, realization hitting him like a hunter with a bat as his eyes widened in terror. “I-I'm sorry, I didn’t...” His words faltered as he looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, all of which were paying no mind to them.
He felt sick, guilt gnawing at him from a pit in his stomach.
“Hey, it's okay Dean. You know I'm perfectly fine with public displays of affection, and no one else even saw us. There's no need to apologize.”
“Yeah-h.” He said shakily. Before he could figure out who he was apologizing to, a voice from behind the counter called.
“I have an order for a mister ‘John’ and ‘John Bonham’.”
“That's us.” Dean spat the words out quickly, turning around to take them from the barista’s hand. He rushed out of the door, the small tinkling sound of the welcome bell and the blood rushing to his ears drowning out the sound of Cas’s call from behind.
He sat in the front seat of Baby, knowing he was being childish. Dean took a shaky breath and tried not to think about it.
About what the hell he was thinking, kissing Cas out in public like that. The judgemental eyes- black or not- that were watching. He thought about what his father would say, mind instantly going back to a moment in his childhood he has tried to forget since it happened, wondering where he went wrong.
About the time John had caught him and Lee, ignoring the weak excuses Dean was stuttering out. Skipping town faster than they had done in years.
About how the left side of his face had been a yellow-ish purple for weeks following, and the sore spot on his arm from where he caught the pavement as he flew towards it.
About how he had told Sam he just fell on a hunt. “Don't worry kid, you should have seen the vamp when I was done with him.” He swung his fist around in slow motion, pretending to punch an invisible enemy as his little brother giggled in childish bliss.
About how John never looked at him the same. The disgust in his eyes, harsh words on his lips.
About how he vowed to never disappoint his father like that again, and their joint hatred for that part of him. Sometimes it felt like the only thing they could agree on.
About how somewhere, somehow, he had decided Cas was different. That he somehow didn’t count, and that losing him hurt so much, was such an egregious pain, he wanted as much of Cas as he was allowed to have. And how that was something insurmountable stronger than the twisted, sick feeling John had placed in his gut.
He remembered something Cas had told him once: “Hatred isn’t a natural trait, Dean, it’s a learned one. A baby isn’t born with the ability to hate, it’s passed on from one broken soul to another. Love, love however. That’s something different altogether.”
Cas’s hand on his shoulder pulled Dean out of his thoughts. “Hey.” He said softly.
“Hey Cas.”
“I love you.” He got in the passenger's seat, taking his coffee from Dean’s still frozen hand.
“I love you too.” He whispered absentmindedly, staring straight ahead and seeing nothing but thoughts from the past. His mind fighting an internal battle, logic telling him that what he had with Cas wasn’t wrong, and even though everything from fate to God had tried to wedge itself between them, it was still the most right thing he had. And he knew that, but his dad’s drunken, booming voice echoed throughout his head, telling him that he was dirty. Telling him the Winchester men had no place for someone like him.
“You better stop that now, boy. Bad things happen to you when you’re weak.”
At the time he had taken that as a warning, rather than a threat. But now Dean wasn’t so sure.
It’s not even that his Dad was particularly religious. He wasn’t told that it was a sin, or that he was going to Hell. Though it’s not like that particular statement would have been wrong. He thought with a bitter laugh.
While the thoughts in his head were screaming mercilessly, the drive home was in a simple silence. The only noise being Cas’s occasional sip, and the sound of soft fabric rubbing against skin as Cas moved his hand in small, comforting motions against Dean's back.
When they got to the bunker, Cas, who was genuinely impressed that Dean managed to drive them home without crashing into a tree, pulled Dean out of the car and gently shook him out of his self-imposed stupor.
“Your coffee's cold.” Cas said with a laugh.
Dean blinked a couple times, clearing the fog from his mind, before laughing along with him. “And who’s fault is that? You were the one who insisted on traveling across the state to get it.”
“Do you want some of mine?” Cas asked. “There's a little bit left, and I held it next to the heater. It should still be lukewarm.”
“No thanks, Cas. I can go make some in the kitchen.”
“But what if I want you to try it?” Dean glared at him. “Don't make me do Sam’s ‘puppy dog eyes’ again.”
“Okay, okay. You win.” He put his hands up, mimicking a surrender. “I'll try some of your stupid, Christmas cookie, candy-cane flavoured coffee thing or whatever.” They started walking towards the entrance to the bunker.
“Peppermint mocha?”
“That's the one.”
Cas laughed at him.
“Oh just, give it here.” Dean said. He took a long sip from the disposable cup. He could taste a vague hint of whipped cream mixed in with the coffee, its light fluffy texture sticking to the last swallow of smooth liquid in the bottom of the cup. The chocolate and espresso rested on his tongue, and the peppermint was strong and refreshing. He took another sip.
“Does that face mean you like it?”
Dean looked at him guiltily. “No.” He opened the bunker’s door and started walking down the metal stairs.
“Yes you do.”
“No, I don't.”
“You took a second sip.”
Dean reached the bottom of the stairs first, and walked over to the War Room table to set both coffee cups and his keys down.
“So? I was trying to make sure I properly understood the flavour. Since when is that a crime?”
“You wanted to properly understand a flavour you didn't like?” Cas walked up to Dean and pulled the nearest chair out to sit down.
“What are you two arguing about this time?” Eileen asked from the library.
Cas clenched both of his hands into fists, putting the right one on top of the other. He made small, circular, stirring motions with his right hand. “Coffee.” He signed swiftly, movements fluid.
“Ah. That makes sense.” She spoke the words.
“What makes sense?” Sam asked, walking in from one of the hallways, making sure Eileen could see his lips before speaking.
“They're arguing over coffee again.”
Sam glanced at both of them, before his eyes reached the two cups on the War Room table.
“Wait a second… Dean?” He looked at his brother, before turning to face his best friend. “Cas?”
“Yes, Sam?” Cas answered.
“Did you two go to Starbucks?”
“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean grumbled.
“Yes, we did!” Cas sounded way too excited to be referring to coffee. “I got a peppermint mocha, and Dean tried some and liked it.”
“I did not.”
“I don't care what coffee you like, Dean. What I do care about is that you went all the way to Starbucks, and didn't bother to ask if we wanted to come.”
“Not cool Dean.” Eileen walked in, shaking her head and hiding a smile.
“I might have thought about buying you two drinks, but there was no way I was ordering yours with a straight face.” He looked at Sam. “And it's an hour away, they wouldn't have been hot or cold or whatever they're supposed to be by the time we got here.”
“Well then we'll just have to go back, all four of us.” Eileen put simply.
“It's an hour away.”
“We know.” Sam added.
“Let me say that again, in case you weren’t listening. It's an hour away. For coffee. That isn't even that good.”
“I beg to differ, Dean.” Cas said.
“Yeah I'm definitely with Cas on this one.” Eileen agreed while Sam nodded along.
“No. There's no way I'm getting back in Baby to drive all the way to Starbucks again.”
“Fine. We’ll go get our own.”
“With what car?” Dean said, very sure of himself.
Sam snatched Baby’s keys off the war room table, which in hindsight was probably something Dean should have expected.
“Let's hope Sam doesn't have too many shots of espresso.” Eileen said, faking concern. “I would hate for your baby to pay the price.”
“Fine. I'll drive you.” Dean grumbled while Eileen double fist-pumped her win.
Cas looked very pleased with the thought of getting to try more coffee.
---
They left shortly after, the drive over painful for everyone except Dean, who listened to the same four songs on repeat the entire hour.
(It’s their own fault, really.)
---
“Can we please listen to something other than Bob Seger on the trip home?” Sam complained as he slammed shut the door to Baby’s backseat.
“You’re just mad you didn’t get shotgun.” Dean said, closing his own door. “Besides, driver picks the music, everyone else shuts their cakehole.” Sam mouthed the words along with Dean, having heard the speech a million times before.
Eileen and Cas got out, neither one of them had any desire to input on their squabble, and were instead engaged in their own, quieter discussion.
Both brothers continued to argue until they walked into the Starbucks.
“Ah. There's the scent of overpriced coffee I missed.” Eileen joked as she took her first breath inside the building, using her hand to waft the smell towards her.
“What are you getting?” Cas asked Sam.
“I want my usual, and Eileen, what are you having?”
“Hot chocolate with espresso shots please. This place doesn't sell liquor.” She shook her head sadly and Sam laughed. “Good thing I brought my own.” She winked at them, opening her jacket just enough so they could see the inside pocket and showing off her flask.
“Oh, now that would be a Starbucks I would go to.” Dean said.
“You two wait in line.” Sam pointed to Cas and Dean. “We’ll save a table.”
Dean looked like he wanted to protest, but they walked away before he had the chance. Cas leaned over towards him. “Don't worry. I'll order Sam’s.” He very conspicuously winked.
Dean smiled at his attempts of regular human interaction, before over-the-top winking himself.
“Can you order for us? I need to talk to Sam about something.”
“Sure thing…” Cas had to think before finishing his sentence. “...buckaroo.”
Dean outwardly cringed. “Keep trying, you'll get there eventually.” He patted Cas on the back, which was slightly moving in a chuckle.
It was good to see Cas filled with so much simple joy. Face creased from laughter rather than stress, he seemed so much lighter. Happier. It was only a small sliver of what he deserved, but it was something. Maybe he could live with driving an hour to get what he assumed was half-decent coffee.
“What would you like?” Cas asked him, eyes still filled with a sparkle that only comes from gaining something you thought you lost.
“Uh.” He thought about it for a moment, almost considering branching out into the unexplored terrain that was the dark green menu with small, white text, before shuddering at the thought.
“I think I'll take that expensive black coffee I didn't get earlier.”
Dean was not going to turn into one of those people, if he had any say about it.
Cas walked into the line, leaving Dean to scan the room, furiously waving Sam over when his eyes found their booth.
“Sam.” He sounded like he was trying to whisper, but his volume raised far higher than that. The patron closest to Dean gave him a look before turning back to their work.
“Sam, come here, it's urgent.” His brother turned to look at him, rolling his eyes before getting out of the booth.
“What do you want?” He said once he reached Dean.
“Sam. Help. What do I do?”
“About what?”
“About what kind of coffee Cas is having.”
“Oh god, Dean let it go. He's not going to only ever drink black coffee. Contrary to popular belief, former angels do actually have souls.”
Dean ignored the implications that he didn't have a soul, too distracted by Cas. “But look.” He motioned his head towards where Cas was standing, next in line to order. “He’s eyeing the weird fruity drinks.”
“Dean. It's Cas. The man’s favorite food is PB&J. What did you expect him to have, taste?”
“Alright that's rich coming from mister Pinkity Drinkity or whatever the fuck.”
“You walked into a Starbucks and ordered black coffee, I don't think I'm the wrong one here.”
“Wait, wait. Shut up. Quiet.” He hit Sam on the shoulder in a childish attempt at getting him to stop talking so he could listen.
“Ow. That hurt.” Sam muttered, before turning to watch Cas, which Dean was already doing.
“I would like to try a…” Cas methodically scanned the menu again. “A ‘Passion Tango Iced Tea,’ please.” The barista took no mind to the excessive air quotes.
“It's not even coffee.” Dean said to Sam, clearly distraught. He turned to look back at Cas.
“And your name sir?”
“Lizzo.”
Dean threw his arms up into the air. “I can't believe this is the man I love.” His voice cracked like he was holding in tears of anguish from listening to Cas order.
Sam just rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Right, and he’s the dramatic one.
“Aw. You're in love.” Sam held his hands up, forming a heart and mocking his brother.
“Oh shut up. What are you, seven?”
“Is Cas your gay thing?”
“You shut your mo-”
“What are we gossiping about?” Eileen whispered, cutting Dean off and causing them both to jump.
“We're not gossiping.” Sam said indignantly.
“Sam started it.”
“Jerk.”
“Bitch.”
“This is where I call you two ‘asshats’, right?”
“It's ‘assbutt.’” Cas said, walking up to them and catching the tail end of their conversation. “And that's my line.”
Cas handed them each their drinks, before excitedly trying his own. He put the plastic cup up to his mouth, almost missing the straw. When he swallowed the cranberry-colored liquid, his face relaxed in pleasure.
“I know this one isn't coffee, but it's really good.”
“We didn't get coffee either.” Eileen said. “So don't worry, Dean's the odd man out here.”
Dean glared at her before trying his own coffee, and well, it was coffee. The point of buying expensive caffeine still went straight over his head.
The four of them went over to their thankfully-still-available booth and sat down. Dean and Cas sat on one side, both instinctively choosing the side that faced the door, with Sam and Eileen sliding into the seats directly across from them. They sat there, talking about nothing in particular, and certainly nothing of importance, before falling into the natural art of storytelling.
Aside from killing monsters, that’s what hunters did best. Sitting around and sharing stories. As tiring and dangerous as their lives were, some hunts were worth sharing exaggerated and hyperbolic versions of, especially over drinks.
Sam’s favourite story to tell changed every time, and one would almost be inclined to believe that most of it wasn't real, but the wildest parts also caused the most merriment. (Dean pretended he hadn’t witnessed the whole thing, sparing Sam by not telling the other two how it actually went down.)
Eileen shared of her time in Ireland. “Foreign country, foreign monsters.” She said with a wink, telling of creatures neither Sam nor Dean had even read about.
Dean’s favourite story to tell, aside from the fact that he killed Hitler, was the time he got to solve a mystery with everyone’s favorite talking dog. And yeah, all three of the people that sat at the table had heard both many times before, but that didn't matter, it was still enrapturing to hear them again.
Cas had millenniums to choose from, but always found the most interesting hunts to be the ones with the Winchesters. He also had many hilarious stories about his adventures with Crowley, but he was less fond of those.
“I remember once, Dean went on a hunt with Dad.” Sam started. “Nasty vampire, it got a hit or two on Dean. I think you guys went with another hunter. Young. About your age, actually. Uh…”
He snapped his fingers, trying to recall the name. “Lee. That's it.” Dean looked up from the coffee right as Sam said it. “Do you remember him?”
Something flashed in Dean’s eyes, but his brother didn't seem to notice.
Cas, who was used to admiring every minute detail of Dean's expression and posture, didn't miss the ever so slight, yet sharp, inhale. Or the way he swallowed before speaking, trying to clear the small lump from his throat.
Dean noticed too, internally rolling his eyes at his own reaction.
“Yeah it's been a while, but I remember him.” Dean was blatantly ignoring Cas’s burning stare from beside him, and the fact that he had stabbed Lee through the chest just last year.
Cas made sure no one was watching before gently placing a hand on Dean’s thigh. Knowing it would comfort him from both intuition and experience. Dean stiffened under the touch, but after realizing no one could see where Cas’s hand was, he visibly relaxed.
“What happened to him?” Eileen asked innocently.
“Oh uh, a hunt I think. Most of us go that way, I assume he was no different.” Technically Dean dealt the final blow, but it was the entrancing call of the monster, greed, and the life Lee and Dean had both secretly wanted, that caused his former-friend’s downfall in the end.
“Yeah.” Sam said solemnly, suddenly lost in his own thoughts, most of which were riddled with grief.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, letting the weight of their many losses wash over them like a tidal wave.
One made of espresso and milk rather than the rough waters of the sea.
---
The ride back was more manageable, Dean allowing them one song choice each, complete with a warning to pick wisely.
(They all very cheekily chose the songs they knew would bother Dean the most.)
---
Full on coffee, cookies Dean bought for them at Starbucks, and brimming with contentment, (as well as the fact that they spent half the day in the car), Cas suggested to Dean that they “hit the hay” as they stepped back into the bunker.
They laid there in silence, breathing in scents of comfort, coffee, and each other, until Cas eventually drifted off to sleep.
Dean, however, continued to lay there. Thinking.
He remembered the first solo case John sent him on.
Something curled inside his gut.
They had been two nuns, their fate a product of hate crime. Put to death for simply being themselves.
Dean didn't blame them for coming back as ghosts.
He remembered the words - ones he would soon learn were slurs - that John would spit out like acid.
Or offhandedly toss like they didn't bear enough weight to shatter the window of a person's self-image.
It had taken him almost forty years to realize that very same window inside of him was in sharp, jagged pieces. Cutting anyone and everyone who came near.
It had taken Cas dying to start picking them up again.
He turned to look at the man next to him, relaxed and blissfully sleeping. His chest moved up and down rhythmically, and Dean slowed his breath to match until he fell into a surprisingly peaceful slumber.
---
When Dean woke up, the other side of his bed was cold.
He didn't panic, knowing full well that Cas probably ran to the bathroom, or was pouring another mountain of sugar in his coffee.
Losing Cas again to the Empty had ripped him apart, but months of spending every night with his partner left him with less nightmares and waking in cold sweats then he had since before Hell.
Dean also learned that his own presence was enough to fight off the demons of solid, black goo that plagued Cas’s head at night.
He was finally starting to understand why life seemed to lose all meaning when Cas was gone, and from there he could slowly start to rebuild both of them.
Dean heard soft padding noises as socked feet walked down the hall, and there was a knock on the bedroom door. "S'your room too, Cas. You don't have to knock." He laughed, words slightly slurred from just waking up
Cas walked in, wielding two mugs of coffee and a proud look shining in his eyes. “I made us coffee.” He said triumphantly, handing one of the mugs to Dean.
“I put chocolate and peppermint in your coffee.”
Dean fake-gasped. “You monster. Ruining the integrity of my drink like that.”
“I'm a human, you ass.” Cas responded, a smile tugging at his lips. “Besides, I know you liked mine yesterday.”
“I did not.” He said, discontentedly crossing his arms. “I only drink coffee that's as black as my soul. Darker than the night sky. Hotter than the bunker’s computer when it overheats. As manly as-”
“Oh, just drink your damn coffee.”
“Fine.” He groused. “But I'm not enjoying it.”
Cas raised an eyebrow at him, before setting his mug on the bedside table and sitting down behind Dean. The bed creaked underneath him as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist. “Is this why you and Sam never use umbrellas?” He joked.
Dean laughed.
Cas rested his head on the crook of Dean’s neck and whispered. “You know you don't have to pretend.”
“Pretend what?” Dean asked softly.
“You know.”
“That I don’t like flavoured coffee?” He said with a snort.
“Sort of.” Cas hugged him tighter. “No one’s going to think any less of you Dean. You’re allowed to like the things you like.”
“I know.” He resigned.
“John isn't here anymore.”
“I know.”
“I love you.”
“I know.” The words barely came out as a whisper, hot tears betraying Dean’s eyes as they silently leaked out and ran down his cheeks.
He tried to wipe the tears away, hearing his Dad’s voice in his head and knowing he was being stupid.
Dean couldn't help but think of himself as a small, living-room window, from an old, dilapidated house. Stained yellow with age. Cracking from wear.
He let the drumming of his Dad’s words in his head be drowned out by Cas’s voice.
He couldn't unwrap the fuzz from around him, so he didn't know what Cas was saying, ears seemingly filled with cotton. It was just the knowledge alone that he was there. That he was holding him and whispering comforting words into his ear. That even as a human he could heal Dean at his lowest points, and still see him as the brightest, strongest, soul.
You don't really know what a picture is going to be until it's done.
Maybe that window is a beautiful stained-glass portrait.
“Uh.” Dean cleared his throat. “What-what do you have?” He indicated Cas’s coffee by angling his head towards where it sat on the nightstand.
“I made iced coffee.”
Dean just looked at him, astounded, eyes widening. “You mean it’s not hot?”
“Yes, that's where the ‘iced’ in ‘iced coffee’ comes from.” He said very seriously.
They both sat in silence for the next hour, peacefully drinking their coffee and enjoying the presence of one another.
---
When they got out of bed and ventured into the rest of the bunker, they found Sam and Eileen in the library.
They were sitting in adjacent chairs, with Eileen laying her head on Sam’s shoulder and reaching for her water bottle on the table. They were reading a book together, but Eileen shook Sam indicating she had seen them walk in.
“Goodmorning.” She greeted cheerfully.
“Mornin’.” Dean pulled up a chair across from them, and watched as Cas did the same.
“What are you two reading?” Cas asked.
“The Men of Letters’s Bestiary.” Sam said.
Dean snorted. “Ah. Doing a little light reading are we?”
“We're thinking about filling in some of the pages.” Eileen added.
“Yeah, for all of the stuff they have here, it's surprisingly empty.” Sam continued flipping through some of the pages, most of which were blank.
“Heh. I should put you in that thing, Cas.”
Cas let out a laugh. “Right. Because I’m a good example of an angel.” The sarcasm was masking something else in his voice.
“If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been my favourite angel.” Dean only realised how sappy he sounded after it came out of his mouth.
“Yeah, I’ve heard the rest of them are dicks.” Eileen added.
Cas smiled at that, seemingly back to normal.
“Right, well you three can do that, I'm off to the Dean Cave.”
“Or…” Sam started.
“We could go back to Starbucks.” Cas finished, nodding his head enthusiastically.
“Yeah... that's not where I was going with that, but I like where your head’s at, Cas. We should definitely go back.”
“Eileen?” He asked.
“Hell yeah.”
“Dean?”
Dean pressed his mouth into a thin line and glared at him. “Yes, sure, fine. But we're not making this a daily thing.”
“That's fair.” Cas agreed. “It's probably not very healthy.”
He went to grab his wallet and keys before Sam could start his speech on the nutritional value of green things, and Eileen snatched her water bottle off the library table as they all got up to leave.
---
Dean gave up on letting them choose the music after snickering and requesting “Friday” by Rebecca Black for the third time in a row.
(It wasn't even Friday?)
---
Dean stepped out and closed Baby’s door in the parking lot of Starbucks an hour later, kicking the loose pieces of gravel on the asphalt for the third time in two days.
“We might as well just live here.” He said, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“I wouldn't make that offer if I were you, Cas looks like he’d be totally on board.” Sam laughed.
Cas went and stood beside Dean as they started walking towards the building, smiling.
“What?” Dean asked, question genuine and free of all malice.
“Nothing.” Cas answered, smile not faltering.
His eyes revealed nothing but pure devotion for the man he was staring at. A silent promise, one without pressure, that he would be standing there, and Dean could take the leap anytime he wanted.
Dean was slowly inching towards the end of the diving board.
---
“I think I'll just drink my water.”
“Oh that's exciting.” Sam joked. “If I got you a lemon to go with it, would you be able to handle that?”
“Don't talk to me about my drink, when yours is a vivid green puke colour.”
“Hey, at least it actually has a colour. And a flavour at that.”
Dean couldn’t believe those words were coming from the same man who drinks exactly a hundred and one ounces of water a day. (Which, according to Sam, is the recommended amount for males, as stated by the Institute of Medicine.)
(Dean didn’t care.)
“Fine then.” She turned to look at Dean. “Get me the strongest thing on the menu.”
Dean laughed before turning to Cas. “Let's just go get in line before we suffer at the hands of the Leahy like Sam.”
Sam and Eileen went to look for a place where they could all sit again, playfully bickering the entire way.
While he was standing in line with Cas, Dean looked over at his brother, and found him and Eileen sitting at a small table in the corner.
Cas was still helping him learn ASL, so he caught parts of their conversation.
“If Jack is in every drop of rain, do you think he's in your water?” Sam signed, trying to contain his laughter.
Eileen pushed her water away with a look of disgust. “You’re lucky I love you.” She answered back.
“I know I am.”
He watched her silently laugh before turning back to look at Cas.
They really did have it good, didn't they?
“What are you ordering, Dean?”
Dean stood there silently, contemplating. He internally weighed his pros and cons, mind leaving the menu entirely. While there was still a lot of shit he had to work through, (shit he had been actively not working out his entire life), there wasn’t much of a decision to be made.
He would always choose Cas.
“You know what?” He reached out and grasped Cas’s hand firmly. “I was thinking about being less boring. What ingredients do you suggest I try?”
Cas smiled warmly, reaching the crinkled corners of his eyes. “They have a cinnamon flavoured one. That’ll be almost like apple pie.”
“Will it really?” Dean’s tone was dismissive, but there was a smile on his face.
“Yes, Sam told me.“
“Not that I trust Sam’s judgment, but okay, I think I’ll take one of those.”
“I'm going to have a real pumpkin spice latte this time.” Cas seemed very pleased with the aspect of buying something they could make it home, but Dean wasn't going to fault him for it.
The patron in front of them finished ordering, clearing the way for Cas and Dean. The barista from the first time they went caught sight of them and made a face. “Wait a minute. I think I know you two.”
“Yes, we came here yesterday.” Cas helped. “Well, we actually visited twice, but you weren't working the second time.”
“Right... John and John, how could I forget?”
“This time we're ordering for four though.”
“I would like a…” Dean squinted at the menu, looking for the cinnamon flavoured coffee. “‘Cinnamon Dolce Latte.’ And my devilishly handsome friend here will take the pumpkin spice version.”
“And what are the other two drinks and names?”
Dean whispered something in Cas’s ear. “I'll drink the coffee, but I won't budge on this one.”
“That's okay Dean, you’ll get there eventually.” He whispered back.
The barista looked unimpressed with them. Again.
Dean cleared his throat. “Ahem, sorry. The tall one with the stupidly long hair,” he pointed towards Sam, “is getting…” he trailed off before looking to Cas for help.
“I don't know, man. It was something sickly looking. Cold? Green? Possibly tea?”
“And Iced Green Tea Latte?” The barista suggested.
“That's the one. His name is Jimmy.”
“And the lovely lady sitting next to him would like the strongest drink you have. Her name is Robert.”
“Her name is Robert…?” He slowly pointed towards Eileen, sounding unsure of himself.
Or them.
“Yup.” Cas said.
Eileen gave a little wave from across the room.
He gritted his teeth in a very clearly fake smile. “Coming right up.”
They paid for their coffee and picked it up, taking the travel cups across the room and towards Sam and Eileen.
Cas took a sip from his pumpkin spice latte, gleefully smiling. “As much as I like trying different drinks, I think I might start just getting this one. It's my favourite.”
Sam leaned over to Dean, neither one taking their eyes off of Cas. “Should we tell him the drink is seasonal?” He glanced at Sam, before staring back at his partner, whose face was beaming like a literal ray of sunshine.
Dean’s face softened. “Nah. Let’s not ruin his moment.” He took a sip of his cinnamon coffee and damn, it was delicious.
Nothing at all like apple pie, but still delicious.
Cas walked over to him, making eye contact in a silent question. Dean nodded with a small smile, and Cas took his hand.
“I love you.” Cas whispered.
“I love you too.” He whispered back.
They didn’t whisper to hide, and it wasn't because he was ashamed. It was because that exchange was just for them.
Dean leaned in and softly kissed Cas.
Now that was to tell everyone in the shop that his devilishly handsome friend was spoken for.
Slowly, the sun would come out and shine through the stained-glass window, shadow portraying the picture of an angel.
And alright, fine, Dean could admit that he enjoyed the peppermint mocha.
He thought about it for a moment, before giving a light chuckle, realising something.
“What?” Cas asked, turning to look at him with a soft smile resting on his face.
“Nothing.” Dean whispered, squeezing Cas’s hand in his. He took a sip from his coffee, relishing in the warm and cozy flavour enrapturing his tongue.
He was only thinking that maybe, just maybe,
Cas had changed him too.
---
Bonus Epilogue:
Dean held the glass door open for the other three, and they all walked out onto the asphalt, laughing, and making their way towards Baby.
The street lamp overhead flickered, and all four of them froze.
“Did anyone happen to get the salted caramel macchiato?” Dean whispered.
---
-This fic on Ao3 (Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated.)
-Writing Tag
-Ao3
-Request fics/drabbles/ficlets. (Please)
#Supernatural#Spn fic#Destiel#Destiel fic#Dean Winchester#Castiel#Sam Winchester#Eileen Leahy#Saileen#Lampswered#Lamps did a thing.#Lovecraft levels amiright?#15x20#(Post)#Jensen Ackles#Jared Padalecki#Misha Collins#Shoshannah Stern#John's A+ Parenting#Dean Winchester Angst#Destiel fluff
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Ficmas~ Day 16
Pairing: Eomer x Gender Neutral!reader
Word Count: 1022
Warnings: None.
Summary: You meet Eomer at a café, specifically yours.
Requested By: @keijibum
A/n: god I'm so glad I'm now halfway done. It's already like halfway into November now too. Lmao.
"Welcome to Mom and I! What can I get started for you today?" You called when the bell rang as a customer strode in.
It was December, and that meant a ton of new seasonal drinks that many customers would come in for. Mostly all too sugary, and bad for the teeth, but hey the more the merrier. Peering up at the customer, you looked crestfallen but kept a smile on.
He wasn't one of your usual customers, but no matter.
"I'm new around town, what do you recommend for two?" The man spoke, ignoring your warm welcome. He fidgeted, glancing at his phone every few moments.
"Well sir, if you want something more seasonal, I would say the peppermint white mocha," You stayed professional anyways. He was a damn good looker. Judging by the faces of the rest of the other employees, they too thought the same.
"I'll try it. Make that a medium on both."
"Okay," You finished ringing him up, grabbing a sharpie out. "And what is the name on the order?"
"Eomer."
An unusual name, but certainly not the most unusual ones you've met before.
"Great, I'll call your name when they're done. Have a seat."
"Thank you."
Smoothing the stickers out on both cups, you set them to the side, watching out of the periphery as you watched him set his jacket on the back of the chair and sat down. Before you could continue ogling at the man, another customer came in and it was back to work.
"Two medium peppermint white mocha for Eomer!"
He smiled a thank you, and you relished in the brief dimples as a reward. Dipping his head once, he sat back down once more. It was safe to say that how you were able to keep your cool around him, you would never know. Returning to work, you finally realized that he was expecting company.
The crisp suit and tie, and the black jacket hanging on the back of the chair was enough clues. The stranger was all doled up, and dressed to impress. You smiled to yourself, shaking the can of whipped cream.
Yet the company never arrived.
Ten minutes.
Twenty minutes.
One hour and he was constantly on the phone.
An hour and a half ticked up. There he was with his laptop, typing away at his work. Feeling bad for him, you gathered up the courage to speak to him.
"Hi," You greeted once orders dwindled down and night had descended, approaching his table. "Do you want me to warm up that coffee for you, sir? It must have cooled off by now.
"No need, thank you," Eomer shook his head, pausing the work on his laptop. "I was expecting someone, but they never showed up. So how about you have it for the rest of the night? It seemed awfully busy tonight."
"Thursday nights aren't too steady," You spoke, taking a sip at the offered mocha. "I'm sorry your date didn't arrive, maybe they got lost here. It's a small coffee shop, nothing like Starbucks or the big companies."
"Their loss," He shrugged, stowing his laptop away.
"Here, why don't you take the rest of these chocolate cookies? They're all baked today, and would be less sweet than that drink you're having. It'll balance the sweetness out a bit," You handed in a small brown bag filled with warm cookies.
"Your shop is wonderful, and I'm glad I stopped by. I should get going, but it was nice knowing you. Have a great rest of your night," He shook the bag gently. "And thankfully you for these."
"Y/N," You supplied, smiling at him. "You too, Eomer."
For a moment, he faltered but turned away and made for the exit swiftly. Silently berating yourself for not giving out your number, you sighed and cleaned the tabletop without another sound. Perhaps it would've been too forward of you to do so, but it was better than the bitter regret just like the extra coffee.
Yet it seemed as if fate had other plans.
Eomer would stop by regularly on Thursdays, order the peppermint white mocha, make an odd face on the first sip, before disappearing into traffic with a polite nod at you. For the other six days in the week, you tossed and turned of the cute stranger and the idea of why he ordered something so sweet when he clearly disliked it.
"Eomer," You grinned when the bell clang.
"Y/N," He greeted, stepping up to the register. "Just my usual please."
"Humor me for a moment.. I'm curious, why do you like it so much?" You asked, continuing when he was about to answer. "And yes I know that you make those faces each time you drink from the cup. There are others you could order from the menu, and that type of mocha will be ending soon anyways."
"It reminds me of you."
Smooth. You had to give him that.
"I uh," You stammered, at loss for words. With a nudge from a nearby barista, you put in his order anyways. "Thank you."
"Look, I know I'm only in town only for the next few days before I fly back home, but I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner some time soon," He continued, counting the bills and adding a five into the tip jar. "It's the least I can do to pay you back for those cookies."
"Eomer, please. It was a gift. It's the holidays, and some people need extra cheer around here," You shook your head, despite your heart rate skyrocketing at the prospect of a dinner date with the handsome one. "I was hoping that after being stood up, you would feel a little better with them."
"That's not a no," He smirked, helping himself onto the bar stools in front of a side counter.
"I get off at seven. One of my employees is closing night. Anything you're interested in trying around town?," You asked, washing the blender. "I know there's a new malaysian restaurant down the street that I haven't tried yet."
"Of course, I would love to." He smiled, sporting those wicked dimples once more. "My turn, why the cafe?"
Eats Everything: @asraime @aspiring-ginger @bluesclues-1234 @mournthewicked @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @also-fangirlinsweden @groovyfluxie @keijibum @mysoulshideaway @fandom-imagination-ss @mayday1284 @sayanythingcreations @supergeekfangirl @lykxzandlove @your-sparklywinnercollection
Tolkien: @im-a-muggleborn @fxngsfogxarty
Urban: @fandomsfeelsandfamily @justa-traaash @yueci @writerdee1701
#eomer#eomer x reader#lord of the mark#king eomer#x reader#x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral#lotr reader insert#lotr fanfic#lotr#lord of the rings#31 days of ficmas#ficmas2020#deb writes
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winter prompt fill 29, indruck, sfw?
29. i should’ve done my shopping a month ago but now i’m running around last minute and when i enter your store, i’m absolutely frazzled. help me.
(Pinecone is borrowed from harrisonator’s fic “Monster Mash”)
Working at Kepler Petco isn’t the worst thing, even during the holiday shopping hellscape months. It’s not like anyone is getting in fistfights over cases of Fancy Feast. Which is why, on the 22nd of December, Duck is unprepared for the sudden sound of hands on hitting the countertop.
“I need help.” The guy’s about his age, silver hair going patchy black near the top, pink and white striped sweater around his neck and a massive sweater hanging off his lanky frame. His red glasses barely conceal brown, anxious eyes.
“Sure, what’re lookin for?”
“Rat treats, the kind that won’t make them ill.”
“Can handle that, right this way.” Duck leaves the counter and leads the guy back to the small mammal section. As they go the man spins a ring on his index finger, flushing under the merciless heating vents.
“I’m sorry for the dramatic entrance. I have a mountain of things to do today and your store closes first.”
Duck glances at the AKC branded clock on the wall, which shows 12:30 p.m, “We close at five.”
“Yes, I know, but I really cannot overstate how behind I am on my Christmas shopping. Or, well, holiday is more accurate, since Joseph celebrates Hanukkah, which means I’m already late on that.” He sighs, runs a finger with chipped black nails through his hair.
“Big family?” Duck points to the row of snacks, grabs the man a basket from the end of the aisle when he starts piling them into his arms.
“Lots of friends. We’re having a party tomorrow and I completely forgot about it until today. I know it’s ridiculous to forget about a holiday where you can’t turn around without being slapped with a reminder of it, but my brain doesn’t always work in the way I’d like it to.”
“No judgement here. Once forgot my sisters birthday until the minute my mom asked if I could get some candles for the cake after school.”
“Oh dear.” The man smiles, the expression shifting from odd to shy when Duck meets his eyes, “thank you for your help.”
Five minutes later the guy heads towards the register, then stops, backtracking to the display of rats, mice, and hamsters. Duck joins him in case he has questions, and to steal another look at his singular features. They’re not handsome on the surface, but something about them draws his eye back over and over. He’s just in time to hear the man cooing to a pair of brown rats.
“...so lovely, aren’t you just charming? If I could I’d take you home but space is limited. Oh” he blushes when he sees Duck, “I’m, ah, ready to pay now.”
“One of your friends got rats?” He indicates the pile of treats the man is buying.
“Hmm? Oh, no, these are for Luna and Emperor, my rats. I wanted to get them presents too.”
Duck can’t decide if the fact the guy prioritized spoiling his pets on the day he had to buy a bunch of gifts is adorable or worrying.
“As I said, I came here because you close first. And I, ah, I like spoiling them. It’s nice to know exactly how to cheer another living thing up.”
“I get that. Pinecone, that’s my, uh, my cat, gets more treats a month than I do.”
“Someone ought to buy you a few, then.” The man murmurs, handing over his debit card.
Duck, caught up in the mechanics of fighting with the card reader, doesn’t realize he’s being flirted with until the man is no more than a silver head merging into the throng outside.
He’s lowkey annoyed with himself the rest of the day; he’s been in the market for a cute guy, and while his mystery shopper may not be Ryan Gosling, but Duck wouldn’t mind getting his number.
Since he opened today, he gets off at three, decides to swing by Crate and Barrel in case the apron he thinks Barclay might like. There’s small hallways dotted through the mall, leading to exits or to backrooms. As he passes one, he gets a glimpse of silver hair and a vibrant scarf. That’s the only good part of what he sees; the man from earlier is pressed close to the shiny wall, trying and failing to get his breathing order.
“Hey, man, you okay?”
He jolts, registers who’s speaking, and looks at the ground, “N-not really. I, part of the reason put this off so long is I can get incredibly overwhelmed in crowds sometimes, and yes I know that makes coming here three days before Christmas even worse an idea but I thought maybe I could handle it, but I’ve only managed to buy two of the gifts I need because I cannot focus with everything going on and, and I’m sorry, here I wanted to charming around you and now you’ve seen this and-”
“What would help?”
“I, I’d like to go somewhere quiet, but there’s nowhere, even the bathrooms are packed.”
“Do you, uh, want to come sit in my car for a bit? I can run the heater so we don’t freeze.”
“That’s really alright?” The question is so small and vulnerable he wants to tuck it into a shoebox to keep it safe.
“Yeah. C’mon, I’m parked on this end.”
It’s snowing on and off as they walk to his car, and as he gets it running and turns on the heat his passenger finally pulls his clenched hands from his pockets; one holds a fidget cube, the other a very small, plush moth.
“I tried so hard to prepare for every possible future.” Is what he gets as explanation. The man sets both items in his lap and shuts his eyes, breathing slowly in and out. Duck says nothing, opens his phone and plays two rounds of Plants vs. Zombies before he hears anything at all from beside him.
“Would you mind turning the radio on, at a low volume?”
“Any requests?” Duck hits the power button.
“No talk radio.”
“Can manage that.” He fiddles around and finds the alternative station. Even it has Christmas songs interspersed with the usual mix.
“Is your name really Duck?”
He wonders if the guy is omnipotent until he remembers his nametag.
“It’s a nickname.”
“I’m Indrid.” He opens his eyes, “thank you for letting me come here to calm down. I may actually manage to succeed in my quest now. It’s so hard, I actually enjoy being out around the lights, the feeling of so many people being happy or trying to do kind things for each other. But it’s easy to get overwhelmed, especially when I’m alone.”
“Would it help if you weren’t?”
“Possibly, but I couldn’t ask you to spend even more time in that mall given you work there.”
“Got some last minute shoppin to do myself. Besides, if you get stuck on a gift, I’m pretty damn good at comin up with ideas.”
“Thank you.” Indrid smiles, excited, and that settles it: Duck is asking for his number after this.
They brave the crowds and the holiday cheer blaring across the speakers once more. The first stop is a store selling housewares, including a pair of small succulents that Indrid deems worthy of giving a friend as he listens to Duck talk about his part time job at the National Forest, laughing when Duck mentions last weeks run-in with a pissed-off migratory bird.
The next few stores are no help, and they opt to take advantage of the lull between when people are done with school and when people are done with work to hit up the coffeeshop, Indrid ordering a white chocolate peppermint mocha and promptly getting whipped cream on his nose. Duck is tempted to kiss it off, settles for handing his new friend a napkin while he talks about his recent return to Kepler after traveling around the country in a Winnebago, selling his art at shows. As luck would have it, the store has a shelf devoted to artisan or local coffees, and they’re each able to find one for someone on their list.
Macy's proves more treacherous, and once five o’ clock hits even Duck is feeling cramped. Indrid is tensing, his replies getting short or far off, and just as Duck is about to offer to dip out again, chilly fingers link with his own.
“Is this alright?”
“Better than alright.” He grins and Indrid holds tighter, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth as Duck guides them into a less crowded corner. The do eventually find some high quality hiking socks that Indrid buys, only letting go of Duck in order to pay.
They reward themselves with dinner at Johnny Rocket, Duck hopping over to Indrid’s side of the booth to see pictures of Emperor and Luna, and show off the photos he has of Pinecone hiding under his ranger jacket.
“One more stop, thank goodness.” It’s going on seven and Duck has to say he agrees; he loves being around Indrid, but his feet are killing him and he’s had “Jingle Bells” stuck in his head for an hour.
Indrid’s last item is at Crate and Barrel, and Duck laughs when the other man goes straight to the aprons.
“You got good taste, I’m gettin’ one of these too. Barclay said he needed a new one.”
A fine-boned hand freezes mid-reach, “Did you say Barclay?”
“Yeah?”
“I am also buying this for a Barclay. Is your Barclay, by chance, dating someone named Joseph and hosting a party tomorrow?”
“Yep.”
They stare at each other, frozen long enough that another shopper passes between them. Then they double over in sync, Duck wheezing out a laugh while Indrid cackles.
“Holy shit, we’ve been shoppin for the same folks!”
“Barclay mentioned there’d be new people at the party but I never thought one of them would be such a catch.”
Duck gets his breathing in order, steps across the faux-hardwood and takes Indrid’s hand.
“Hey, Indrid? You wanna be my date to the party tomorrow?”
“Absolutely.”
“....wait, fuck, which one of us is gonna give him the apron?”
“You can, I have another idea for him. Consider it an early present from me.” Indrid tease.
“Sugar,” Duck slips his hands into Indrid’s back pockets, smiling up at him, “you might just be all the present I need.”
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~Mocha~
One Shot
Pairing: Knj Barista x Reader AU
Word Count: 1,398K
Rated: E
One Shot Warnings: Flirty Namjoon, Coffee Genius, Extra long descriptions for no reason DON’T COME FOR ME.
Author: @guksauce
Notes: 💜Let me first just thank Kim Namjoon for being an absolute amazing person. For being a king. For being our president. For loving us. He is and forever will be protected. 💜 And thank you to those of you who give this story and myself all the love 💖
Soundtrack: Click here!
It's a chilly mid-September tuesday night in Seoul, South Korea. You’ve had one of the toughest days you've had since you moved here about seven months ago. You hate your job. You struggle with the language. Your “friends'' still call you “the new girl who doesn't talk much”. And the boyfriend you had for just over 3 months called just in time for you to open your chicken salad sandwich you packed for lunch and hadn't realized it probably went bad about 2 days ago, to promise it wasn't you but him. So, since midnight youd been venturing around town in hopes of clearing your mind to no avail, passing closed store after closed store until you spotted a cafe across the street just as dark clouds rolled over the city and started to sprinkle drops of rain.
The shop emitted a golden glow, the sweet scent of roasted coffee beans and cinnamon rolls, the earthy smell of flowers that had long since closed their buds on the patio, and a small white neon sign that reads “Open 24 Hours”. Inside the walls were painted half natural forest green and half italian cream, accented only by the oddly shaped and dimly lit lanterns hung from high ceilings. The floor is all original wood, magazines and comics lean in every direction in wire baskets nailed to the wall. In the back, a few drunk friends laugh at each other's jokes and share a bottle of Soju. In the corner a string of fairy lights illuminates 2 musicians. One of them sits at an electric piano. The other stands with a golden saxophone pouring from his puckered lips. Together they play a gentle jazz tune that sets and perfects a warm ambiance.
The bar has been intricately carved with designs you associate with 1920’s Gatsby. Rows of jars with rich chocolate colored coffee grounds line the counter and it's easy to see with a glance out the large front window that the steaming espresso machine has done a wonderful job of fogging the glass. But behind the bar is a man teetering on a stool with a book in one hand and a spoon that stirs idly in his mug in the other, the silver lightly tapping the ceramic. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and features thoughtful and pensive, so obviously enchanted by whatever world he had transported himself to to even realize anyone had entered. You didn't mind. It gave you a moment to stare without it being too awkward. Silver hair fell lazily over the crown of his head. Sharp eyes held soft onyx irises. His sleeves were rolled up on his white knitted sweater revealing a warm butterscotch tan on his arms. The rips in the knees of his black jeans showcased his toned thighs but casually complimented his modern black Oxfords. He looked clean and comfy in a way that made you want to crawl onto his lap and cuddle him. God knows you needed it after the day you’d had.
With careful steps, you approach the counter and climb onto one of the stools, pulling off your layers until you are left in your favorite sage green hoodie. “I admire your ability to get lost and enjoy it.” You say and peak over the bind of his book. You catch a glimpse of the gold name-tag attached to his sweater and read the name Namjoon in your head. In a rush he drops the book and scoots his mug to the side, steam and a fresh herbal smell lifting and wafting in your direction.
“And miss all this exciting stuff going on in here right now?” He motions to the relaxed atmosphere around the two of you and you smile.
“Are you a smartass to all of your clients?” You follow his teasing demeanor. Namjoon leans his elbows on the counter and you count to three to keep from staring at how the strands of hair fall from where they had been tucked behind his ear.
“Only when they look like they need to smile.” This time you dont stop yourself from staring, the dimples deepening in his almost childlike cheeks making you all but melt and giggle. Slipping off of his stool, Namjoon readys’ a mug under the machine and distorts his features into something out of a TV show and very awkwardly questions you.
“May I interest my lady in one of many forms of coffee this evening?” The voice and accent he's chosen is awkwardly broken british and makes your entire body cringe, but it's ridiculously endearing and impossible to say no to. You nod and perk up in your seat to get a good look at the process of coffee making as he begins to turn knobs and scoop ingredients into different cups and spoons. You don't bother telling him that the extra pump of hazelnut he put in smells too nutty, or that the roast is too dark, or that you've never had whipped cream on your coffee before, because the concoction he sets in front of you looks like a dream.
You're not sure how much time passes or how much of your life you've explained to him by the end of your third coffee together. What you know is that you never want to leave his presence. Forever, it seems, he expresses to you how much of a philosophy buff he is. Gets teary eyed talking about the many ways he's done his best to live his life through the wise words of men and women he admires. He teaches you words in Korean you'd never had the opportunity to use, as well as words he was starting to call you when the sky started to lighten up and the rain poured a little heavier.
“Yeppuda. Pretty.” He would say softly. “Aleumdaun. Like you.” He’d been shameless in his use of them. You had no idea what he was saying but you were enamored by how pretty they sounded coming from his mouth. If you scoot any closer to the edge of your stool, you were going to fall off, but the more you sat in front of him, the more that feeling of wanting to cuddle him itched at your insides. Especially when the blue haze of a new day was shading his face in different ways, casting new light here and there.
“What does that mean? Aleumdaun.” You repeated and he laughed at the way it came out a jumbled mess as though you’d swallowed a mouth full of water. He adjusted in his seat, and leaned close enough to you that, had you leaned forward just half an inch, your noses would have touched. Maybe even your lips. You give yourself a second to imagine how he might taste. Lips like cocoa. Tongue like whipped cream. White mocha and peppermint candy cane breath warming your cheeks.
“Beautiful...like you.” Just as the words slithered out between those perfect cocoa lips, the blush firing up your cheeks induced a dark, melted chuckle to rumble deeply in his chest just as the bell hanging above the entrance rang out, bursting the all consuming bubble of the rainy romantic ambiance you both had created for yourselves. Blinking rapidly, you clear your throat and suck your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing nervously as the woman enters awkwardly, tying her apron around her waist. The stool under Namjoon creaks softly as he greets her and wraps a scarf around his neck, shrugs his denim jacket over his shoulders and helps you into your coat.
The sun breaks between the clouds just long enough to cast a warm ray of light through the window, a sparkling mix of dust and brown sugar particles swirl in the air. Silver strands of hair catch the reflection and glow like moonlight and you suddenly absolutely cannot stand the thought of having to part ways with this enchanting man.
“Lets have breakfast.” Maybe it's too forward of you but the longer you stand here with Namjoon, the better you imagine the future of your life and you were not about to deny yourself the magical connection you shared with him. He almost looks surprised but his features soften and his dimples beg to swallow you whole as he takes your hand and answers with a voice made of honey. “I thought you’d never ask.”
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1. Have you ever seen two movies at the theater in a row?
No. I’ve wanted to do that, but just never have for whatever reason.
2. If you were to go to Starbucks right this second, what do you think you’d order?
A hot venti peppermint white chocolate mocha with soy.
3. Do you own any dice?
Yeah, the pairs that come with some board games I have.
4. Do you like to wear cardigans?
No.
5. If I were to ask you nicely, would you please consider making a survey for me and everyone else?
I have no creativity to come up with questions.
6. What is the worst thing a child has ever done to you while you were babysitting?
My brother and cousins would just be super annoying at times lol.
7. If you wear contacts, do they tend to get really dry after only wearing them for just a couple hours?
--
8. Have you ever watched any British television shows?
I don’t think so.
9. Do you own a nightgown?
I count these t-shirt dresses I’ve been into lately as nightgowns. I wear ‘em around the house and sleep in them, so. They’re so comfy.
10. If you could get any pet right now, what would you?
I’m happy with my doggo.
11. Have you played Grand Theft Auto: IV? If so, what do you think of it?
Nope.
12. How often does your internet disconnect?
I very rarely have any issues with my internet.
13. Have you ever actually been stuffed into a locker?
No, but that was one of the things I thought happened before I started high school due to movies. Unfortunately, it probably does for some people, but that wasn’t my experience and I never witnessed anything like that. High school for me wasn’t at all like it’s portrayed in movies and TV shows.
14. Do you / did you decorate the inside of your locker at school with stuff?
I didn’t have a locker, actually. I didn’t want one.
15. How many teenagers do you know who have babies?
None at the moment.
16. Is there a fan in the room you’re in right now?
There’s 4.
17. Do you believe that chivalry is really dead?
No.
18. If you have one, what’s your favorite novel by Chuck Palahniuk?
I’ve only seen Fight Club, I haven’t read the book.
19. Do you get your surveys from your subscriptions page or do you actually go to specific sites and search for them?
I get them from fellow survey takers on here for the most part, but Bzoink and LiveJournal as well if my dash is dead and I’m forced to hunt for them on my own haha.
20. How much is your cell phone bill each month
I honestly don’t know because I’m on a family plan that my parents and brother take care of.
21. And why the heck is Cingular now AT&T?
Wow, this is super old.
22. Have you ever made a house out of a giant cardboard box?
I don’t think so.
23. Have you ever made a tent out of sheets in your bedroom?
Yeah.
24. What’s the coolest thing you’ve made with Legos?
Nothing cool.
25. When you make a survey, do you answer your own questions?
I don’t make surveys.
26. If you could keep your parents or trade them for other parents, which would you pick?
I wouldn’t trade them for anything, I have amazing parents.
27. Do kiwis make you think of testicles or is it just me?
...
28. Do you think it’s cool how peroxide gets all fizzy when you put it on a cut?
No.
29. Is there a piggy bank in the room you’re in?
No.
30. If I had to power to give you one thing right now, what would it be?
Good health.
31. Do you want to get pregnant right now?
Nooo. Not now, not ever.
32. Do you know anyone who doesn’t like the internet?
I know people who don’t spend as much time on it, but no I can’t think of someone I know who doesn’t use it at all or have any interest in it.
33. Do your grandparents know how to operate a cell phone?
Yeah, they both have smartphones.
34. Have you ever housed a friend for a long period of time because they had no place to live?
No.
35. If you have a favorite comedian, have they ever been in a movie?
I don’t have one.
36. How many sets of twins do you know?
One.
37. Has anyone ever made fun of you for using proper grammar?
No.
38. Do you own any hemp jewelry?
No.
39. Have you ever cut carpet with a carpet cutter?
No, I’ve never cut carpet at all.
40. Are there any books you want to read?
There’s so many books I want to read.
41. Is it before of after 3 pm?
It’s way later, it’s currently 10:39PM.
42. If you have younger siblings, are you very protective of them?
Yes.
43. If you have older siblings, are they very protective of you?
We don’t have a close relationship. It’s not a bad one or anything, it’s just different.
44. What are your plans for New Year’s Eve?
I’m positive I’ll be here at home with my family watching the NYE stuff on TV as per usual and that’s perfectly fine with me.
45. Would you like a beer?
Nooo thanks.
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Celebrities Need Milk Too: Haikyuu Coffee Shop AU
My favorite time of the day was walking to work. It didn’t matter the shift, daytime, or who my co-workers were. All that mattered was the music playing through my headphones as I would walk down the cracked sidewalk. I found myself staring at my reflection in window shop glass more than I looked where I was going. I trusted my feet to go where they needed because of the amount of time I’d walked this path.
My hands mess with a misplaced hair before being covered up by a new poster in the window of a macaroon shop. My feet stop as I look at the volleyball players that littered the paper. It was for a big match up tonight against the Schweiden Adlers and MSBY Black Jackals. This particular poster seemed to be dedicated to the Adlers with their star players lit up by a golden light.
If I was being honest, I hadn’t been paying too much attention to the recent volleyball tournament that plagued the city. All the hubbub has done is make the shop a busier than normal.
A small buzz takes me away from the poster. I curse under my breath as I see that I was slightly late for work. My feet pick up the pace in hopes of getting there in a time that my boss would deem acceptable.
As I got to the shop, a group of people had gathered around one person. He was taking pictures outside as if he were a celebrity. This struck me as odd because we don’t get a lot of famous people that visit this particular coffee shop.
The so-assumed celebrity seemed to not be a fan of pictures or autographs. He had yet to figure out the perfect hand placement so that it was not awkward for the girls or himself. His smile had yet to meet his eyes and even looked like a painful experience. I couldn’t help but chuckle as the girls fawned over him.
In-between photos, I caught the eyes of this strange man. His dark turquoise eyes seemed to be filled with a mixture of please help along with disinterest and an intensity unmatched by anyone I’d ever met. I had seen them somewhere before but I couldn’t put my finger on where.
I, however, did not have time to ponder who this celebrity could be. No Doze Cafe was bustling with people. Almost all the tables were filled with patrons either waiting on coffee orders, studying for an upcoming test, or laughing with their group of friends. A few people were crammed at the window in hopes of getting the celebrities attention.
“You’re late again,” called Carrie as she walked out from the back room. Her apron was covered in old stains.
“I know,” I say while putting on my own apron. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I really should keep a tally of how many times you’ve told me you won’t be late again.” Her voice may have been teasing but I could feel her pressing me about my tardiness.
“Or you could just dock my pay like you keep saying you will,” I comment while picking up the closest cup. I read the marking scribbled on the side. White Peppermint Mocha: Our most popular seller around the holiday seasons.
I quickly mixed this drink while preparing for the rush of customers that would likely enter the shop if the guy ever was given a break. “Akashi,” I call while placing the drink on the counter.
My fears became a reality as the swarm of people followed right behind the guy from outside. I found myself cursing his very own existence. Instead of immediately stepping into line, he decides to take a seat, pull out his phone, and start watching some video.
Rather than comment on his strange behavior, Carrie shouted at me to get back to work. She can sometimes get grouchy if enough people have pissed her off today. Sadly, I was one of them.
As the day grew later and later, people became less interested in the celebrity and more interested in getting their coffee to go. The after school rush had simmered to a slow boil. There were a few people still seated at tables watching the man.
Carrie decided to take a small smoke break to clear her head from the rush. I was left taking and filling orders.
“See you later Ms,” called one of the regular high school students. I waved goodbye to him before walking back to the cash register. To my surprise, it was the man from outside.
“Oh it’s you,” I say.
His eyes narrow to the same intense expression-filled scowl he had earlier in the day. “Would you want a picture or something?” he asked. His voice was filled with annoyance and a little disappointment.
“No,” I commented. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually get anything after you didn’t get in line at the start.”
He paused. It was the same pause that I had given him earlier when we locked eyes. It was the feeling of confusion mixed with a little wonder. “You were watching me?”
A heat flushed along my cheeks. “I-I was watching you because of the crowd. We normally don’t get celebrities in the cafe.”
I could’ve sworn that the same blush on my cheeks mirrored on his. “I wouldn’t say that I’m a celebrity,” he said. “I’m just well known.”
“Well, sorry for calling you a celebrity,” I say, trying to make up for my misstep. “What could I get for you?”
He looked around as if to spy on anyone that would listen to his order. “That’s actually what I would need help with. I haven’t visited a coffee shop before. A friend of mine said that you made good hot chocolate with real milk. He said it was the best he’s ever had.”
“Oh would you like to try the hot chocolate?” I ask. “We import some of the cocoa from a shop in Paris.”
“Is there anything else with a lot of milk? I’m not a huge fan of chocolate.” His face flushed harder. It was a cute look to break up the angry intensity of his normal face.
I giggle before responding, “Yes we have plenty of items made with milk. Would you want something cold or hot?”
“I guess cold,” he mumbled. “Also could you add coffee?”
“Yes we can,” I say with my typical retail smile. “I would recommend a Macchiato. It has two shots of espresso with a base of milk. I enjoy the drink a lot. I would get a shot of some flavor in it though.”
“I’m fine without the flavor,” he said. “But make it a large.”
“And can I get a name for that order?”
“Kageyama.”
Suddenly, the names of the teammates on the poster flash before my eyes. His name was highlighted under one of the players. That was where I remember seeing his eyes before. “You’re the setter for the big game tonight.”
The comment must’ve caught him off guard. The already pink cheeks became an even darker shade of red. “Y-yes I am,” he commented before pulling out the money to pay. “You can keep the change. Think of it as a tip.”
He handed me six extra dollars about the cost of his drink. “I can’t take this,” I say while pushing the money back into his hands. “That’s too much as a tip.”
“N-no. I insist.” He pushed the money back into my hands. “You helped me a lot.”
“If you’re sure.” I make the change before placing the rest of the money into the tip jar. “That was very nice of you.”
“No problem.” Embarrassment must’ve been too much for him because Kageyama walked towards the end of the bar. I quickly make his drink before handing it over to him.
“Here you go sir. One Macchiato.” I turn away before he stutters out “W-wait.”
I turn back to see that he is looking at the drink. “W-would you be at the game tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t get off work until really late. I doubt my boss will allow me to go.”
Kageyama scoffed before looking back up at me. “I-I would really appreciate it if you could be there. I don’t have lots of pull but I could pay a little extra if you can get off.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“No,” he stammers. “I was just asking because you’ve really helped me and I want to see you more.”
A smile crossed my face before I picked up a napkin off the counter and my pen. I wrote down my number and placed the napkin on top of his cup. “I don’t think I can come tonight,” I comment. “However, I’d love to see you again too, Kageyama.”
“O-oh,” he stutters before locking eyes with me. The faint blush had faded. “I’ll give you a call after my game. Maybe we can meet up and I can show you the video.”
“I’d love that,” I say. The black-haired man seemed confused that his confession had worked. He bid me a farewell before walking out the door.
“What was that guy’s deal?” asked Carrie. She must’ve finished up her cigarette in the time we were talking.
“That- my dear Carrie- is the celebrity that was outside.”
Haikyuu Masterlist
(This series is a choose your own adventure. Pick your favorite man or all of them. I will try to make as many of them as possible with continuations. So far, there is Oikawa, Sugawara, Tuskishima, and Kageyama. If you have a suggestion or comment, please message me!!)
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The Christmas Decorating Fic.
Hello, yes, this is the proper time of year to post a Christmas themed fic.
Summary: You and Piotr decorate your home for Christmas for the very first time.
Pairing(s): Piotr Rasputin x Reader.
Rating: G.
Warning(s): A very minor, mild mention of/allusion to childhood trauma.
Set after “It’s Truly Magical.”
Taglist: @marvel-is-perfection, @chromecutie, @girl-obsessed-with-things, @super-darkcloudstudent, @leo-writer, @dandyqueen
“Orn-a-ments, lights, and ginger-bread cookies! Tinsel and more lights and… what else rhymes with cookies? Glitter and glitter and glitter some more! Gonna have glitter all over the floor!”
“Pozhaluysta, nyet. We will be vacuuming for thousand years, at least.”
“I make no promises.” You grin impishly at your long-suffering husband, then belt out, “When the dog bites! When the bee stings! When I’m feeling sad… I simply throw glitter up in the air, and then I don’t feel… so bad!”
It’s officially the winter holiday season –meaning snow, seasonal music, red and green everything, and consuming more cookies than you probably should in one sitting.
It’s also midterm season at Xavier’s for all the high school students, meaning your husband has been hard at work prepping exams, holding review sessions, making study guides, and generally doing everything he can to see that his pupils succeed.
Which is nice –but it also means that you were left with the task to purchase all the Christmas and seasonal décor.
You probably went overboard (not that you’re admitting that to anybody).
Piotr stares at the sea of bags and boxes that completely cover the living room floor and spill into the kitchen. He rubs his temples and sighs. “Moya lyubov’… why?”
“I just…” You smile sheepishly and duck your head. “It’s pretty! And colorful! And it’s so white and bland outside, so I thought we could use extra color in here! And, like, we can share whatever we don’t use with the residents so they can decorate their rooms, but…” You let your voice trail off, sheepish smile growing. “I liked all of it. Okay, look –all of the candles smelled amazing! How was I supposed to pick one type?” You pull a random candle out of a bag that holds many, many, many more candles –this one’s peppermint hot chocolate scented—and take off the lid before holding it out to your husband. “Smell this. It’s fucking delicious.”
“Smells very nice,” Piotr agrees after a cursory sniff. “Just… what will we do with all this?”
“Decorate, baby. It’s our first Christmas that we have our own place. We gotta go all out!”
“I do not disagree. Just… how much did all this cost?”
“I used my own money,” you defend yourself. “Which is technically crime money from Wade and dad and my uncle, which I know you don’t like, but it’s also supporting a capitalist death machine, which you also don’t like, so I feel like that should cancel each other out—” You sigh when Piotr crosses arms over his chest and raises an eyebrow at you. “I got excited,” you admit. “I’ve never… I’ve never really been able to go all out for Christmas before, especially not in a home of my own. I can… I can take some of it back, if you want.”
“Nyet, nyet,” Piotr says gently. He draws you into his arms and kisses the top of your head. “That will not be necessary.” He kisses the top of your head, then surveys the sea of bags once more. “Well, at least we will never need to buy decorations again.”
“That’s the spirit!” you chirp, patting his chest before skipping away. “I need you to put up the tree, and also help me hang tinsel because…” You pick up one of your sketchpads and show him a few designs you’d made with an impish grin. “I drew up some layouts.”
“Did you now,” Piotr chuckles as he studies your sketches.
“I have a vision.”
He chuckles again, then kisses your cheek. “Then let’s make vision come true.”
***
“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire… Jack Frost nipping at your nose…”
The smooth tones of Nat King Cole croon through the speakers. Snow flutters down from the thick, dark gray blanket of clouds high above, batting against the windowpanes before accumulating in drifts over the earth. A fire crackles in the fireplace, hissing and snapping as the flames eat away at the logs your husband had placed in the hearth.
You smile, hovering in the air as you tack up a strand of tinsel.
It’s like the spirit of Christmas has swept through your house. You got Piotr to wrestle the Christmas tree into an upright position –he’s still shaping and fluffing it now—while you focused on draping strands of tinsel and lights over every conceivable surface (within reason on the lights, of course, because Piotr drew a line at blowing the breaker every time one of you flipped a switch). There’s little clusters of figurines throughout the main floor –there’s a trio of wooden snowmen on the table next to the front door, a scene of those porcelain house and figures on a swath of batting on the side table in the dining room, several little penguins in festive hats scattered throughout the kitchen—
It’s almost addictive. Every new addition to your home leaves you giddy, giggling like a child on a sugar high. You dart all over the place, finessing and adjusting which decorations go where until it’s all just right.
Maybe it comes from never decorating for anything during your childhood. Your parents were stridently against any sort of frivolity, citing “hedonism” and “blasphemy” and “not following in the path of Christ” any of the few times you dared to ask.
Woe to thee, Pharisees and Sadducees, you think as you finish hanging a strand of red, holographic tinsel. Your upper lip curls in derision as you float back down to the floor.
Piotr looks over at you when you let out a ragged sigh. “Everything alright, myshka?”
“Yeah.” You sigh again. “Just… thinking about my parents.”
Piotr leaves the tree –which is looking far less bedraggled than it did first coming out of the box. He crosses the room and puts his arms around you once he’s by your side. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.”
“I know, I know. I just get mad at them sometimes.”
“As you have every right to be.” He kisses the top of your head. “I am so sorry, myshka.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” You tip your head back so you can kiss him properly. “You want to light one of the candles I got?”
“Sure. You pick.”
“In that case, I’m lighting all of them.”
Piotr laughs as he ambles back over to the tree. “Please, no.”
You start pulling candles out of a paper bag and line them up on the kitchen counter. “We’ve got ‘Peppermint Hot Chocolate,’ ‘Sugar Cookie,’ ‘Frosted Holly,’ ‘Sugar and Spice,’ ‘Fresh Pine,’ ‘Cranberry Orange Zest,’ ‘Gingerbread Dreams,’ ‘Minty Mocha,--’”
“Bozhe ty moi,” Piotr guffaws, shoulders shaking as he laughs. He presses a hand against his stomach and shakes his head. “How many did you get?”
“As many as I wanted!” You stick your tongue out at him when he continues laughing and keep lining up candles on the counter. “Shut up! I’ve never gotten to have shit like this before.”
Piotr sobers abruptly. He stares at you, forehead creasing with sorrow. “I am sorry, myshka. I did not consider this.”
“No, no, no.” You leave your plethora of candles at the counter and go over to him. “It’s okay, honey,” you assure him as you wrap your arms around his waist. “I was poking fun back at you, sweetheart. I wasn’t offended, I swear.”
“That is good to know.” Piotr strokes your hair with one hand. “But… it hurts me. I remember that you had so little, and were treated so cruelly, and—”
You hold him tighter when his voice breaks. “It’s okay, Piotr. I’m okay. I’ve got you now. And all the candles I could ever want!”
He laughs, even if it’s wet and shaky. “Da, very true.” He wipes a few stray tears off his cheeks. “Pick candle you like best, myshka. Anything is fine with me.”
“So, I can light all of them at once—”
“Nyet. Tochno net.”
“But—”
“Nyet.”
“But it—”
“Nyet.”
“You’re not even letting me explain myself!”
“Correct.” Piotr grins when you scrunch your face up at him, then kisses your forehead. “One candle, myshka. Please.”
You sigh dramatically, heaving your shoulders and rolling your eyes. “Fine. I guess I just have to smell each one until I can decide which one’s the best.”
“You will give yourself headache.”
“No, I won’t! I’m invincible!”
Piotr shakes his head as you skip back over to the counter. “Whatever you say, moya lyubov’.”
***
You don’t give yourself a headache –but you do switch between smelling candles so fast that you lose your sense of smell.
“I’m wounded!” you scream as you inhale into your shirt to try and clear your nose. “Forever disabled! I’m gonna die!”
“I warned you,” Piotr says, smiling all the same. He carefully sniffs a few candles, then takes a lighter and lights ‘Gingerbread Dreams.’ “This one is best.”
“How dare you mock me!”
“My sincerest apologies.” He sets the candle on the center of the counter, then faces you. “Are you ready to decorate tree?”
“Sure. You want to start on lights while I pick which ornaments to use?”
Piotr shoots you a dubious glance. His gaze flicks between you and the sea of plastic bags still covering the floor. “Myshka… why would you need to pick?”
“Well…” You shift from foot to foot as your voice trails off. “I wasn’t sure… what color scheme we’d go with…”
He sighs like the longsuffering saint he is. “How many did you get?”
“Uh…” You rifle through the bags, pulling out box after box of shimmery, shiny baubles. “Enough?”
Piotr’s eyes bug out of his head. “Y/N—”
“We can donate the ones we don’t use.”
“Yes, yes we will.” Piotr runs a hand over his face, shaking his head. He sighs heavily, then grabs a strand of lights and starts weaving it between the tree branches. “Thank goodness for extra spending money.”
***
The two of you settle on a white, gold, and red theme for the tree, since there’s plenty of green in the rest of the house. Between the tree, finishing the other decorations, and the tidying up –at Piotr’s insistence—it’s late evening before the two of you finish up.
You nestle against Piotr’s side. The two of you are on the couch, resting and admiring your handiwork in the light of the fire and the thousands of string lights. “It looks pretty.”
“Da.” Piotr drapes a thick, burly arm around your shoulders. “You chose well.”
You snort. “Hard to go wrong when you buy half the store.”
“You chose well,” he repeats, voice soft and loving. He kisses your temple. “Our home looks wonderful, moya solntse.”
You beam and lay your head against his chest. “Yeah. It does.”
#sass writes#piotr rasputin x reader#colossus x reader#seasonally appropriate fics#fluff#christmas fluff#financial escapism#deadpool fanfiction#x men fanfiction
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Tony makes Pepper a lot of peppermint drinks cuz her name is Pepper and he's real cute. Turns out, Pepper doesn't really like peppermint and doesn't know how to tell him.
By the sixth peppermint-themed Tuesday special, Pepper gets it: Tony the Cute Barista likes her.
The thought of it sends her heart kind of aflutter. After all, she’d been coming to the Iron Kettle for almost two years now because she—and she’d only recently admitted this, so be gentle with her—had a huge crush on the owner, so much so that every time he had locked her gaze with those sparkling eyes and smiled (not smirked, though she liked those, too) and pointed her attention to the weekly special she had said yes.
Yes, and then under her breath, eugh, because she despises peppermint.
It’s going that way again, now, on the day of the thirteenth peppermint beverage special this year.
“Miss Pepper,” Tony greets, straightening his posture. God, he’s cute. “How are we this fine spring day?”
“Mr. Carbonell,” Pepper returns cheerfully. “Better now that I’m in here.” They both glanced at the windows, outside which it was absolutely pouring. “Might stay a while, actually.”
“Thank god for the rain, in that case,” Tony says, and Pepper is so fond of him she almost can’t take it. “May I interest you in this week’s Tuesday special,” he begins his pitch, gesturing to a small board on which a steaming cup and ‘I Pepper-mint What I Said!’ scribed in chalk, “white hot chocolate with Happy’s infamous homemade lavender-mint marshmallow… with a twist!”
“Is the twist in the hot chocolate peppermint?” Pepper wonders.
“The twist in the hot chocolate is that it, like all of our specialty drinks, is an original recipe and made from scratch in-house. Fine, fresh, fierce, that’s our motto. Only the finest ingredients get through that door, and—”
Every Tuesday that Pepper comes in, she daydreams just telling him that it’s a sweet gesture, truly. She would smirk devastatingly and they would banter like they always do and she would finish with a smug but seriously. Enough peppermint.
But then he does this. He rambles (as long as she’s the only one in line) on and on and on about the drink, about the ingredients or the process that he’s clearly proud of, and about how he and Happy creatively infused the freshness of this and that into their creations. It’s all bullshit, she’s pretty sure, just a peacock performance for her, but gosh, does she like hearing him speak.
And he speaks with his hands, and moves oceans with his eyes, and when they lock on her occasionally—with the flecks of hazel, and the pretty eyelashes—well, how was she supposed to be able to resist that?
“—but basically, yes, it’s a regular white cocoa but the whipped cream tastes like Christmas in your mouth.”
Maybe Pepper can just surreptitiously wick off the whipped cream. “I’ll take a medium, then, please.”
“I’ll bring it right over,” Tony smiles after she pays.
Pepper sits down with her book and her hot drink, brought over by Tony with a pep in his step so obvious Pepper reads the same sentence at least eight times after he leaves, and she is quickly joined by Tony’s nearly-seven-year-old, Peter. She likes her book, but adores the boy, putting away her book easily, far more interested in hearing about what he learned in school today.
“Are you saving the whipped cream for last?” Peter asks curiously as he peers into her mug, only a few sips left, but the full stack of peaked cream still there. “It’s really yummy.”
Pepper chuckles. “Would you like to finish it for me, then, Peter?”
Peter looks pleased, and then scandalised. “But then you won’t get any!”
The woman smiles at him assuringly. “I don’t mind. To tell you the truth, I don’t like peppermint very much.”
Peter’s face is an open book, bless him, and his confused expression makes Pepper want to squeeze his cheeks forever. “You don’t?” Suddenly, he remembers something and his eyes go wide. He glances, painfully obviously, to the counter where his father is, and Pepper curses herself for saying anything.
“Wait! Peter! Don’t tell your dad, okay? I take it back, I love peppermint. See?” Pepper makes a point of spooning some of the cream into her mouth, but the taste really is strong—those infusion techniques are no joke—and she doesn’t quite succeed in hiding her grimace in time.
“No, you don’t,” Peter accuses.
“Don’t tell Tony!” Pepper pleads through her laughter. She’s losing to a first grader.
Peter pouts, the crayon in his little hand paused in its colouring.
“Do we have a deal? Remember, you get the rest of my whipped cream,” Pepper sings. Tony is going to hate her for giving his already energetic kid more sugar, but it’s too late to worry about that now.
“Okay,” Peter chirps, reaching for her spoon. Pepper sighs. Peter hums happily as he slurps up the whipped goodness.
The next Tuesday she’s in, there is no peppermint in sight, and Pepper’s heart races because of course Peter ratted her out. The lack of peppermint in the air makes an irrational part of her that wonder if Tony doesn’t like her anymore. She hadn’t liked the drinks, but she liked him. It’s ridiculous, she knows it, but it’s called the ‘irrational’ part of her for a reason.
She thinks she manages to greet him without seeming nervous. The special of the day, presented to her by Tony without any awkwardness whatsoever, is a cayenne pepper spiced mocha.
He glances at her when he says cayenne pepper, and as ashamed as Pepper feels for admitting what she did to Peter last week, her heart skips a beat at the effort Tony is putting in to—to—get her attention.
She just barely avoids a meltdown at the register. She’s afraid, if she stands there any longer, she’ll reach over and kiss those pouty lips, and run her fingers through his soft, shaggy hair and never let go, and wouldn’t that be a scene?
She orders a medium and sits at her usual spot.
Pepper actually really, really likes the spiced coffee. She makes sure to tip off Peter and asks him, again, not to tell.
#pepperony#asks#ANJSHDHDDHS#in which mod ali does not make a shitty art :O#pepper potts#tony stark#peter parker#once again we would be nowhere without peter#mod ali#drabbles
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Frosty Seduction
pairing: WinterSpirit!Namjoon x Human!reader
genre: Fantasy AU, Christmas AU, Smut, Crack, Fluff. tiny bit of Angst
words: 16K+
warning: making out, flirting, oral (m and f), fingering, cold (ice?) play, light dirty talk, masturbation, semi-public sex, making love, creampie,
author’s notes: hey so this has been in the works for a long time! I want to thanks @uwugalore for accepting me into my first collaboration. i met some awesome writers. also, i have never been this invested in a story as this one. usually i just write and then post, but this one was beta’d AND edited, so that’s ....a big change lol. I hope you enjoy it!
part of the 25 Days of BTS Christmas collaboration
Summary: You want to spend this Christmas enjoying the moment without stress. You find a beautiful snowglobe that may lead you to your wish being granted by a mischievous winter spirit.
If kisses were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard.
Everything about the holiday season made you feel good, like everything was alright in the world. Strings of lights glowing brightly in the evening as the sun went down; the smell of delicious treats wafting all around you; the taste of a peppermint hot mocha on your tongue; the sounds of Christmas music playing in various shops. Your favorite part was wrapping the presents you would exchange on Christmas morning with your family and your boyfriend’s family, your heart filled with love as they got a look at what you hoped was the best gift ever.
Unfortunately, this year seemed to have taken a wrong turn and landed you in the opposite mood you usually felt at this time of year. Christmas Eve was only a week away. The only thing you had in your apartment was a decorated Christmas tree. You had finished it while your boyfriend still wanted to be with you at the beginning of the month. A few days after that, he apologetically stated that he wasn't ‘feeling it anymore’ and you hadn’t heard from him since. That spurred on a case of the holiday blues, so you hadn’t been in the mood to put up your beloved decorations.
It didn’t help that your family was out of the country, enjoying a tropical vacation your parents had won at a bingo game. Your sister and her husband had gone with them, a late honeymoon they said. Unfortunately, you couldn’t afford to tag along with your income, so it also turned out you didn’t have family to comfort you through all of this. Still, that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to finish your usual routine of wrapping presents.
That’s what led you to this new antique store on the other side of town. Your mother and sister both enjoyed old jewelry, postcards, and first edition books, while your father was a fan of collecting old pens and silverware. This new shop seemed to be a treasure trove of gifts you knew your family would love. You might even be able to find a gift for your brother-in-law, although you weren’t entirely sure what exactly he’d like from here.
After spending more time than you thought you would, wandering through the aisles, you had found at least two gifts per family member and were on your way to the checkout counter. As the bell rang over the door to signal more customers, you looked toward the sound and were distracted by an item sitting among christmas tree ornaments. You changed your direction and ended up next to the table, crouched down, studying the inside of the snowglobe.
It was a lovely setting, a picturesque winter wonderland, with a few generic one-story homes, a park area, a street, and some kind of store. The small figurines scattered across the scene depicted a happy family sledding in the park, a young couple decorating a christmas tree in one of the yards, and a young man leaning against the wall of the shop. The bell over the door ringing pulled you out of your thoughts, and you glanced over to see a young woman with a toddler in her arms, asking if there was a bathroom. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips as you turned back toward the snowglobe.
Frowning, you stared at the scene in front of you. Something was different, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. You looked over the setting, then the figurines in the fake snow. It hit you after a moment of staring at the shop. The figurine of the young man you were sure was there before wasn’t there now. Standing up quickly, you swallowed down panicked thoughts. After a moment of taking deep breaths, you let out a quiet chuckle. All this stress was going to make you lose your mind if you weren’t careful.
Without another thought, you picked up the snowglobe and purchased it with your other items. This little gift was for yourself.
It wasn’t until two days later you found time to wrap the gifts you bought for your family. After a long eight hour day at your temporary customer service holiday job, the idea of sitting down with a cup of hot chocolate, with soft Christmas tunes playing in the background, was the only thing keeping you from passing out from exhaustion. You sat near your window, on a pillow, a video of a fireplace on your television. The only lights were those on the Christmas tree and a handful of candles on your coffee table, along with street lights shining through your window.
Six different kinds of wrapping paper sat next to you on the floor, along with a pile of tape you seemed to always have lying around. The gifts were laid out next to the tape pile. On the coffee table next to the candles was the snowglobe you had purchased. As you carefully wrapped each item and sipped at your hot beverage, you found yourself glancing toward coffee table. Nothing seemed out of place in the globe, although you felt silly even thinking about it. Even as you chuckle to yourself, placing the last piece of tape on the second gift, you saw something shift out of the corner of your eye.
Immediately, your gaze fell onto the snowglobe, eyes wide as you waited for something to happen again. Slowly, you sat down the wrapped present, and crawled toward the globe on the coffee table. When you were only inches away, with it eye level, you stared into the glass. Something was off once again, and it only took you a second to pick out it out. The young man who had disappeared from in front of the shop had appeared, sitting on the bench in the park, looking upwards. You scrabbled back, gasping as you fell on your ass, almost making a mess of your carefully arranged wrapping station.
“I need a drink.” Blowing out a big breath, you stood and made your way toward the kitchen. As you passed the window, you saw a shooting star. You stopped and turned for a moment, looking out the window and up at the sky.
“I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. I wish my Christmas will be stress free for 24 hours with someone who enjoys Christmas as much as me.” With a wistful sigh, you turn away from the window and head toward the kitchen once again, where you knew you’d find one of your favorite cocktail ingredients.
Ever since the snow globe had been brought into your home, Namjoon had been fascinated. You seemed to be having a difficult time, which was unfortunate during the holidays. Finally, though, he saw you start to become much more cheerful. It made his frosty heart warm when he saw you smile as you wrapped the gifts. Because of the magical aura surrounding the snow globe, Namjoon knew there were four full days until Christmas Eve. He amused himself by sitting on the bench in the park, watching you wrap with purpose. You stuck out the tip of your tongue as you concentrated at making just the right crease.
Without thinking anything of it, Namjoon looked up, feeling the magic of falling stars coming close. Tonight was a special night, apparently. When he heard you moving toward the globe, he froze in place, looking up at the curvature of the glass, as you studied the scene. He felt your eyes on him, trying not to laugh as you scrambled back and your butt hit the floor. Only when you were distracted by the star finally falling did he relax and look toward you once more. He stood and walked close to the glass, close enough to touch it, and listened to you speak to the star. As you finished your wish, he felt his heart grow warmer than it had ever been.
Namjoon knew, without a doubt, it was his job to make your wish come true. He ran toward the shop, bursting through the plastic door that was made to look like wood, startling the short, stout shopkeeper. Namjoon sheepishly grinned as the elder elf jumped at the sound of the door opening, hitting his head on the shelf above the one he was stocking with Christmas decorations. Grumbling to himself, the shopkeeper rubbed the top of his head as he shuffled toward the winter spirit.
“Santa’s Bells, Namjoon, you scared me! What has you up in a tizzy,” Sowon huffed, wincing as he came to stand near the counter. He was two feet shorter than Namjoon, with a bushy white beard, pointed ears, and wire-framed glasses on his nose. The spot he was rubbing on his head was bald, although bright red now.
“I want to decorate the park.” The old elf stared up at him, blinking his eyes. After a long moment, Sowon frowned, arms crossed in front of him.
“What,” he asked, confused. “What do you mean, decorate the park? We don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“We don’t. This place... it’s the way it is.”
“Okay. I hear you. But what if… we decorate the park,” Namjoon insisted, gesturing toward the decorations that lined the shop shelves. In all the time he’s been here, nothing left the shelves. It was part of the curse of being in the snow globe - nothing changed. Now, though, he had a purpose, a reason to change the status quo.
Sowon stared at him a few seconds longer, eyes narrowing as he studied him. Namjoon felt the judgement rolling over him, his excitement over his plan declining with each passing moment. His upturned lips slowly fell into a frown, his shoulders slumping. Sowon let out a sigh, a sympathetic look in his eyes.
“Look, young spirit, I understand. But, the gods have put us here for a reason. We need to fulfill our duties, serve our penalty.” He reached up and patting Namjoon on his arm. “This is what we are, what we have.”
Dejected, Namjoon sighed heavily as Sowon shuffled away, moving toward another shelf to restock for no other reason than routine. While the elder elf was busy, though, Namjoon’s lips slid upward in a smile once again. A plan worked in his mind, and he quickly acted on it. He made his footsteps silent with what little magic he had, grabbed a large container of tinsel and round ornaments, and scrambled away.
Sowon sputtered and called out his name as he ran out the door, eyes wide with shock.
Retail work during the holidays was made for those who had strong wills. Unfortunately, you were hanging on by a thread by the time you made it home after a long seven hour shift. The day had been filled with nothing but stressers: children running around screaming, parents acting like the world would end if they didn’t get that toy, and a sleazy coworker who hadn’t stopped bitching about Christmas the whole time.
When you entered your residence, you let out a groan of frustration as you slumped onto your couch. You went limp, letting the cushions support your aching body. You looked toward the snowglobe on your coffee table tiredly, ready to fall asleep right where you were. You stared at the area where the park was put, the tiny, coloring round ornaments making the scene more festive. You narrowed your eyes as you remembered….
The trees hadn’t had any ornaments this morning.
“What the fuck,” you cried, putting the palms of your hands against your eyes. “The universe really wants to screw with my head!”
You forced yourself to stand from the comfortable couch, knowing you needed a shower. It would help wash away the aches and pains of your day, along with giving you time to rationalize the difference in scenery once again in the snowglobe.
Namjoon grinned with glee as he looked over the trees in the park across the street from his house. He held onto a mug of hot apple cider, imagining how you’d react to the new development. Absentmindedly, he sipped at his drink, then flinched, making a face. Using his ice cold breath, he blew on it lightly, hoping to cool it enough to be able to drink. He took another sip and sighed, wrinkling his nose. It was cold now, which didn’t taste as good. Still, he drank it, not wanting to waste the magic he had used to make this. As he stared out the window, he heard the bells on his christmas tree jingle in a gentle breeze. Frowning, he turned, knowing it hadn’t come from outside. When Namjoon saw who it was, he gulped and put down his mug on the window sill.
Straightening his back, he bowed his head slightly, then kept his eyes down. Namjoon had already gotten on their bad sides, pissing off the winter god today wasn’t on his list of things to do.
“Uh… hey, Boreas, how’s it going?” He tried to keep his tone light, but Namjoon knew it was a serious issue when the personification of winter appeared to him. He licked his lips nervously.
“You know why I’m here,” he responded, his gruff voice sounding tired. The personification looked like what the humans would call Old Man Winter. He was a mix between Santa Claus and Dumbledore, with long white hair and beard.
“Is this about the park decorations,” Namjoon asked innocently. Still, he didn’t look Boreas in the eye.
“You can’t just change the snowglobe. The human thinks she is losing her mind, Namjoon.” Boreas took a step toward him, and he lifted his eyes finally. He was surprised to see the god with a tiny smile on his lips. Namjoon’s mood perked up.
“But…? There’s a but, isn’t there.” Namjoon felt a smile coming out his lips. Boreas pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and letting out an annoyed sigh. He chuckled, though, as he looked back toward Namjoon.
“You’ve been a good spirit, serving your time well, without incident.” Namjoon shifted bashfully on his feet, looking pleased. Did this mean he was done? Boreas seemed to read his mind, continuing. “Because of the seriousness of your crimes, your time has not been considered completely served. But, it seems the Fates have found this situation to be amusing.”
“Okay… what does that mean?” Namjoon started to lose his patience, waiting for the old man to tell him what the hell was happening now.
“This human, it seems, made a wish the Fates think you can help grant.”
Namjoon blinked, frowning for a moment. A wish? His eyes widened and his mouth opened in surprise as he remembered the wish you had made at the window two days ago. A huge smile come to his lips, realizing his instincts had been right.
The first major snow of the season fell heavily outside your window. Snuggled deep into your bed, with a heavy blanket and freshly washed pillows, you dozed comfortably.
You sat on a bench in a park, the trees decorated with spherical ornaments and strings of lights. The sweater you were wearing was knitted, with an overexaggerated face of a reindeer on the front. Your feet were warm in snow boots, with jeans tucked into them. Your dream outfit was exactly what you would wear during the holidays.
Beside you sat a figure. You felt their eyes on your face. Turning your head to the side, you caught their gaze, the plush lips pulling into a smile, revealing deep dimples, one on each cheek. His skin had a blue tint to it, almost like he was perpetually cold. You felt yourself smiling back, heart beating fast and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. It had been a while since you felt the emotions of a new romance.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I did it for you.” His voice was almost sheepish and unsure. His eyes flitted away nervously as he played with his own fingers.
“It is. I love it. Thank you,” you assured him, reaching out and putting a hand on top of his clasped ones. His skin was chilled, but it didn’t bother you at all. You squeezed his hand. “I needed to see the beauty of the holidays, the love and happiness I haven’t been feeling lately.”
“I know,” he replied, frowning. He unclasped his hands and turned one palm up. You intertwined your fingers, holding his hand. His gentle grip seemed to lift some of the darkness inside your mind, helping the holiday cheer slide into its spot. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sad. The holidays were your favorite time of the year, but then all this sorrow was brought about.”
“I don’t want to think about that, not here, not now. Tell me, what’s your name? Why are you here? Why am I here?” Your hand was still within his, and you had no desire to release it. This dreamworld was almost perfect, this blue-tinted man smiling beautifully at you. His eyes brightened at your requests. He leaned forward, his face close to yours.
“I’m Namjoon, a winter spirit. This is my home. And I think you’re here because the Fates know you need some cheering up. And I’m the one who will do it the best.” He shrugged, his words confident. His voice lowered, his cool, minty breath playing over your cheeks. “Anything you want, you can have it.”
You stared into his light blue eyes, shining with amusement. You knew, instinctively, that his words were true. Anything you wanted, Namjoon would give it to you. After a long moment of staring, he leaned closer still and brushed his lips against yours. When he pulled back, the his smile had turned into an ‘o’ of surprise, eyes wide. You licked your lips and leaned forward for another kiss, his pull too strong to resist. He straightened, shyly pulling away, let out a nervous chuckle, and let go of your hand.
“Namjoon?”
“Bora is coming with her sled, see, over there?” Namjoon pointed to a spot behind you, and you turned your body to look.
A family was coming towards you, a young girl dragging an old wood and metal sled. She marched happily a few steps in front of her parents. The woman waved toward Namjoon, and he responded with a flick of his wrist. The man nodded with a smile, and Namjoon repeated the gesture back. The family ignored you and started to get ready to use the sled.
You turned back to him, knowing the intimate moment was broken. Still, you grinned at him, happy to be in his presence, pleased to have his bright eyes looking at you like you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.
“It’s time for you to go,” Namjoon sighed, his grin falling into a pout. “I’ll see you soon, though, I promise.” Hesitantly, he lifted his hand toward your face. You leaned forward, silently giving him permission to touch you. Namjoon cupped your cheek, his hands ice cold but not unpleasant. “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”
Before you could respond, he pulled back and your eyes closed slowly.
When you faded from the bench, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes shut. He slouched on the bench, leaning back and let his head fall back. He knew if he opened his eyes, he’d see the curvature of the globe, but he didn’t want to be reminded of his prison at the moment. The laughter of Bora and her family was normal, but the pounding in his ears was not. His heart was echoing in his head, his mind unable to erase the feeling of your lips against his. They were warm, a strange feeling against his own lips. He wanted to feel them again, the heat once more.
“Fudge,” he murmured, eyes finally opening. He stood up and walked past the family, who sent him a wave. He didn’t see them, too focused on what had happened to wave back. Namjoon entered his home, absentmindedly wandered to the couch in front of the fireplace, and stared into the magical flames.
Why are you here?
Namjoon swallowed as he suddenly felt shame for his actions. It had been a long time ago, although not long enough for a god to forget. He had moved forward, understanding the reasons why he was here. Namjoon understood the effect his past actions had on humans, and he felt regretful of the outcome. He had never felt shame before, though. He didn’t want you to be disappointed when you found out, which was a weird thought in itself.
When he was an even younger winter spirit, he enjoyed fluttering around with his brethren, the famous Frost family, helping Boreas bring in the winter season, making those intricate designs on windows out of frost for those who loved them. Being second to the Frost family in terms of Boreas’ favor, though, had always been a point of bitterness between the other winter beings.
To prove he was good enough to be on the same level as Jack Frost, Namjoon had decided to go off on his own and bring holiday cheer to a nearby town. Unfortunately, his own confidence had wrought his own hubris: causing his powers to inflate to the point of being uncontrollable.
“Nope,” he murmurs to himself, jumping up. “Can’t think about that. Hot chocolate? Hot chocolate! That’s what I’ll do. Hot chocolate and reading!”
He scurried toward his kitchen, almost like he was running from something. And, in a way, he was.
The morning of the day before Christmas Eve, you talked to your vacationing family through video chat, putting on a large smile and waving away any concerns they might have had. You wore your favorite sweater, red with Santa’s face on it, and showed off your Christmas tree. You also teased the gifts you had placed under the tree, which they would open in a few days after they got back. You started your morning in a relatively good mood, the dream from the night before causing you to laugh at yourself, but speaking with your family reminded you how alone you were at this moment.
Taking a deep breath, you placed your phone on the coffee table, picked up the snowglobe in your hands, and sat on the couch. You looked into the globe, shaking it, then watching the fake snow fall onto the cheerful scenery. You had been in the park of the globe in your dream, the little family sledding appearing as well. The bench you had sat on was empty, not that you were expecting anything to be there. It was almost hypnotizing, the fake white flakes falling slowly, soothing the clouds in your mind.
You forced yourself to leave your apartment during the day. Many shops were closed, but you knew of one place that was always open: the local shelter. You enjoyed visiting from time to time, especially during the holidays, where you would have pleasant conversations and stories with the residents. You arrived and started to undo all of your snow gear, scarf, hat, gloves, coat, and even your sweater. The building was toasty warm.
“Oh, it’s Miss Holiday Cheer, herself!” shouted a man in the corner, near the decorated tree, who you recognized as a regular. He was a struggling widower, who had trouble with alcohol until about three years ago. He had lived here for a time, and now came by to keep the current residents hopeful.
“Good afternoon, Nelson. You’re looking handsome, today.”
You spent a couple hours there, the gray skies inside your head dissipating little by little. The sun was sinking below the horizon as you entered your apartment once again. The intense feeling of loneliness beared down on your shoulders, making you groan. You took a deep breath and blew it out, like you were blowing away the heaviness, and went to get yourself a drink. Settling on the couch with your favorite alcoholic beverage, you found yourself looking into the snowglobe in front of you, the fake snow falling as if it had just been shaken.
“Merry Christmas,” you murmur, lifting your glass up before taking a drink.
A clock chimed in the back of your dreams, officially starting Christmas Eve. One. Two. Three…. It was almost too quiet to hear, but the clock stopped making any sound after the twelfth chime. You stayed in your dream world as snow began to fall on your covered body. If you had been awake, you would have noticed it was not cold, but simple plastic that lightly floated down.
The room filled with soft blue light, the fake snow falling without leaving a trace on the floor. It became heavier and heavier, until nothing could be seen in your room.
Blinking quickly, you sat up, confused, as you turned your head this way and that. It took a moment to recognize the trees covered in ornaments and lights. The last time you had seen them, it had been a sunny, beautiful day. Now, though, it was dark, the only light coming from the streetlights that followed the road toward a handful of houses. You realized your butt was on something hard. Looking down, you were once again on the bench.
“Back in the dream,” you murmured to yourself, patting the wood. When you heard snow crunching, you turned to look behind you. Grinning, you held up a hand, waving toward Namjoon.
“You’re here! Actually here! This is fantastic.” He jogged throw the snow without any hesitation, stopping in front of you with his hand held out. His skin was blue-tinted, just like the other dream, but his cheeks had a tinge of purple. He almost looked flushed. “Come with me. I promise to make your wish come true.”
As you took his hand, you realized you were in your pajamas, blue and white snowflakes all over the cotton long sleeved top and bottom pants. Last time you were here, you had been decked out in all the holiday swag, ugly sweater and all. Now, though, it seemed your mind went completely casual. Namjoon tugged at your arm, happily gesturing his head toward the rows of houses down the street. You let him lead you toward them, running up the steps and into the second house. His hand stayed clasped around yours as he closed the door behind both of you.
“So, this is your place, Namjoon,” you asked, glancing around as you pulled your hand away.
You spun in a circle slowly. It had a cozy cabin feel to the inside, with a small living room and kitchen attached, with a set of stairs in the far corner that led up to what you assumed was a loft. You were going to comment on the scenery, but you remembered something he had said before you followed him here. “My wish?”
You turned toward him once again.
“Yeah, you’re wish.”
He seemed a little nervous, with his hands in the pocket of his jeans. He glanced around before his gaze landed back onto you. He sent you a crooked, bashful smile. “You wanted to spend Christmas Eve stress free, with someone who loves Christmas as much as you.”
You opened your mouth to say something, but then you shut it. How did he know? This was a dream, though, so it made a little bit of sense. Your mind giving you what you wanted, maybe? You stepped closer to Namjoon, catching his gaze and putting a hand on his arm. He sent you a relieved smile and lifted his other arm, palm up. As you watched with wide eyes, a frosty mist swirled above his palm, the ice crystals hardening into a shape. When he was finished, Namjoon raised the ice rose to face level.
“Will you allow me to share Christmas Eve with you?”
He waited patiently, his dimples framing a small smile. You slid your hand down his arm, keeping your eyes on his, and took his hand. The small smile turned into a large grin as you used your other hand to take the ice rose from his. The stem was cold to your touch, but it didn’t bother you. Surprisingly, a rose-liked scent wafted from the petals.
“I think I’d like that,” you replied in a low voice, mirroring his grin.
Namjoon could barely breathe, the excitement of you consenting to staying with him for twenty-four hours almost overwhelming. He wanted to press a kiss onto your lips as soon as you said it, but held himself back. After telling you the ice rose wouldn’t melt without him doing it himself, you sat it down on a small table in front of a fireplace. He wanted to show you the wardrobe room, so he pulled you up the stairs and into the loft. There was a door on the back wall, in the middle, and he flung it open, spreading his arms proudly.
“Anything you want to wear, it’s here. It’s magic. Think it, and it’ll appear. Would you like to change?” Namjoon looked over your adorable outfit. He didn’t care what you wore, you were a beautiful human, but he wanted you to be comfortable with him.
“Really,” you asked, eyebrows raised. “Anything?”
“Absolutely.”
He stood at the door as he watched you stride into the room. It was bigger on the inside, with clothes hanging on either side of you. Crossing his arms, Namjoon leaned against the doorframe as you fluttered around the room. You looked so excited, with a giddy grin and a bounce in your step. What would you pick? Namjoon was curious, but was completely surprised when you stopped in the middle of the room and closed your eyes. Frowning, he took a step forward, but saw the clothing you were wearing started to glow.
A red velvet dress appeared on your body, the skirt ending above your knees. The edges of the garment had white puffy material, and your collarbones showed pleasantly. A santa hat appeared on your head, and black heeled boots appeared on your legs, stopped at the knees.
“What do you think? Fits the season, right?”
You posed, turning back and forth, looking down at yourself.
“It’s stunning,” he replied, his voice catching. He cleared his throat, feeling his body flush unusually. He felt the heat blooming from the top of his head down to his feet, and everywhere in between. His heart beat furiously, which seemed to be a common occurrence around you.
“Cookies and hot chocolate? On the table downstairs, in front of the fireplace.” As he smiled, Namjoon used a thumb to gesture over his shoulder.
“Yes, please!” you cried, running past him and down the stairs. He followed, chuckling. As soon as you were both settled onto the couch, Namjoon positioned himself so he could look at you, turning his body so he sat sideways on the couch. You mirrored his pose, ignoring the treats on the table as you stared at him.
“Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You’re kind of purple.”
“What?”
Namjoon frowned, looking down at his hands. His blue-tinted skin had a tiny bit of pink mixed into it. “Huh. That’s never happened before.”
“You’re blushing. Do you like my outfit that much?”
Namjoon looked back at you, smirking back at him. He swallowed thickly as the skirt of your dress slid up as you wiggled a bit on the couch. His eyes stayed on your exposed thighs as he spoke.
“You seem very relaxed. Am I helping grant your wish?” Namjoon placed his hands on his knees, squeezing tightly, to keep from reaching out and caressing the soft skin of your legs. He couldn’t turn his gaze away, almost hoping the skirt would move upward further.
“Yes,” you murmured. He lifted his gaze to your face again.
“You’re really breathtaking,” he whispered, using your name.
“Is it against the rules if I kiss you?”
Your question made his breath catch and eyes widen. Namjoon shook his head slowly back and forth, but not really knowing the answer. He suddenly realized he’d do anything to be able to kiss you right now. “Okay, good, cause I’m going to kiss you.”
You leaned forward without hesitation, sure of what you wanted. This was a dream, anything could happen, right? Reaching out, you grabbed Namjoon’s sweater and brought him closer. Tilting your head, you kissed him. He responded immediately, a hand rising to cup your cheek as his lips moved. His other hand moved to your calf, slowly sliding upward. A sigh fell from your lips as Namjoon’s large, cool hand squeezed your thigh. His tongue brushed against your bottom lip, and you nipped at it. Namjoon pulled away with his eyebrows raised.
“It’s going to be like that,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your kiss swollen lips. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, then stood, taking his hands off you. You frowned and looked up to him, confused. His eyes had darkened and his playful grin had turned into a devious smirk. He reached out, and you left Namjoon position you so you were sitting forward on the couch, with your legs spread open. The short skirt left little to the imagination as he knelt between your legs.
“It’s going to be like that,” you repeated back in a teasing tone.
Breathlessly, you reached down and held onto the hem of your dress. Namjoon stared into your eyes as you slowly pulled the material up your legs, exposing more of your thighs. It was almost a competition to see who would look away first. You stopped moving your skirt when it barely covered the apex of your thighs. Namjoon’s jaw flexed as he took a deep breath, eyes still on yours.
“Is this a power thing?” He chuckled, each hand moving to your thighs. He splayed each hand on your thighs. Your body shivered with anticipation, his fingers so close to your intimate area. His voice lowered. “What do you want, angel? Do you want to fight for power? Or do you want to pick a side? Either way, I’m looking forward to playing with you.”
Biting your lip, you pulled the hem of your skirt up over your hips, showing off your exposed slit. Apparently, the materializing of this dress hadn’t brought about underwear.
“Make my wish come true,” you whispered, eyelids fluttering close as Namjoon’s hand flexed on your skin.
“It’s all I want to do,” you heard him breath, his thumb rubbing circles now. The coolness from his skin caused goosebumps to appear all over your body, but it also made your clit begin to ache. When his lips touched your left thigh, you jumped, sucking in a breath. His hand tightened to keep your leg still as he pressed a few more kisses, then raked his teeth against your skin. “I want to taste you, every part of you, angel.”
“Yes,” you whimpered. You kept your eyes shut, enjoying the sensations of touch as his lips, teeth, and hands pressed against you. “Will you touch me? I want your fingers….”
“Be patient,” Namjoon chuckled, his breath only inches from your opening. Without realizing it, your thighs spread wider, opening you further in front of him. He groaned, gripping your thighs tightly. “Want my fingers where?” he asked, voice heavy with lust.
“Inside,” you replied hurriedly, eyes opening to look down at him. His skin was more purple than ever before, which confirmed he was as flushed and heated as you were. Your hem was fisted in your hand at your waist. “I really like your hands…”
“And I really like you.” He trailed his first finger up toward your opening, watching your face as he slowly rubbed against your opening. A yelp fell from your lips, the ice cold digit a surprise, although you should have known. He squeezed with his other hand, still holding your leg, and pressed a kissed right next to his hand. “Does the cold bother you?”
“No, it actually feels really good,” you gasped as he kept moving his finger from top to bottom. After a moment, he pressed a thumb against your clit, moving in a slow circle. One finger pressed against your opening, then slipped inside. Your slippery walls took him in without hesitation, causing you both to groan.
“Fuck, angel, you’re so warm… but you’re also trembling.” Pulling his finger out, you almost whimpered but stopped when he slid it back inside. Moaning, you threw your head back against the couch and reached out one hand to fall into his hair. His soft, short, brown hair tangled in your fingers as you squirmed under his scrutiny. Thighs shaking, you lifted your hips to match his slow rhythm. “Am I making you feel good? Is that why you’re shaking? Do my fingers feel good inside you?” As he said this, Namjoon slid another finger inside, stretching you further. His thumb continued to work your sensitive nub, arousal starting to leak from you.
“Jesus, Namjoon,” you breathed, watching his lips turn into a smile. His eyes moved between his fingers working you and your face.
“I wonder what you’ll taste like? I have no doubt you are delicious.” He let his gaze drop to look lovingly at your opening, his fingers dipping down to the last knuckle and pulling out. He turned his hand and curled his fingers upward, causing you to cry out. Your eyelids closed, making you miss out on his face moving close. When his tongue replaced his thumb against your clit, you shudder and tugged at his hair. He wrapped his lips around your nub, a groan rumbling from his chest. Moving his fingers faster, Namjoon sucked slowly, pulling back to probe the opening above his fingers. Your thighs twitched, and he held down one with his hand and one with his shoulder.
A warmth began to spread in your lower stomach, with his tongue and fingers probing inside. You moaned and whimpered, lifting your hips. He continued his assault, moving his fingers faster, breathing in your scent.
“Fuck, you taste so good,” he rasped, pulling his face back for oxygen. Namjoon’s tongue roamed over his own lips, licking up your juices. His voice made the warmth turned into a blaze, but the fire died down slightly when his fingers pulled out. He lifted his fingers to his lips, licking with his eyes closed, a delighted moan escaping.
“Why’d you stop?” Unable to stop the pout on your lips, you made to close your thighs. Namjoon chuckled and prevented the action with his broad shoulders.
“You are so fucking adorable with your lip pushed out like that, angel.” He leaned forward once again and pressed his lips against your slit. Your hands gripped his hair once again as his tongue dove deep inside, plunging over and over. Shuddering, you cried out loudly. Namjoon slid his hands under your ass, bringing you even closer to his mouth. He devoured you, causing you to fall into a sobbing mess as the fire begin to rage hotter and hotter inside you.
“Oh god, don’t stop,” you repeated helplessly, held down by his shoulders and arms. Your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, like you were afraid he’d pull away.
“Come on my tongue, angel,” he growled, voice muffled. His raspy voice build the fire to the perfect peak, causing you to shudder and buck your hips into his face. Namjoon gradually slowed the movement of his tongue. Whimpering, your whole body trembled, spent but still pulsing with electricity. He finally pulled back, breathing heavily, grinning up at you and licking his lips once more. “You look tired, darling, let’s rest.”
“W-what?” you stuttered as Namjoon stood and sat next to you on the couch. He scooped you up with his arms and settling you across his lap. Automatically, your arms went around his neck and your face buried into his neck. The coolness of his skin was welcomed against your heated forehead. He rubbed your back, lips pressed against your head, as your body stopped trembling and your mind cleared.
“You’re going to ask about my own pleasure,” Namjoon stated after a few moments of comfortable silence. You smiled against the skin of his neck and nuzzled it with your nose. A soft hum of enjoyment came from his lips as he squeezed you in return. “We have many more hours, I’m definitely not concerned.”
Namjoon reluctantly stood with you in his arms a few minutes after you fell asleep, your breathing gentle and calm. He carried you up the stairs and onto the loft, where his large bed sat in the far corner. As he laid you down carefully, he licked his lips, your taste still lingering on his tongue. He bit his lip to keep from groaning loudly, focusing on tucking you into bed. He took your boots off, then made sure the blankets were surrounding you with shaking hands.
He walked away before he gave into temptation and slide into the bed with you. Sex wasn’t something that came often for him. Namjoon knew if you had gone further, he wouldn’t have lasted long.
He hurried down the stairs and sat on the couch, slouched with his hands over his face. Blowing out a breath, he pulled them away and cupped himself through his jeans. Closing his eyes, he rubbed himself, your face in his mind. Your mouth opened in pleasure, legs spread out before him, holding tightly to his hair, lifting your hips to give him as much access to your wet opening as he could get. Namjoon muffled a moan as he undid his pants and pulled out his cock. It was already aching, his dick hard and flushed blue-tinted purple as he gripped it in his fist.
“Fuck, angel,” he murmured, furthering the memory into a fantasy of his own, where he stood, pulled his member out, and lined it at your entrance. You would be as breathless as he was now, with your trembling legs wrapping around his hips as he pressed forward. While he imagined this, Namjoon’s hand pumped his cock. He used his own leaking precum to lubricate himself. You’d be warm, slick, accepting him without hesitation. The way you responded to his mouth told him that.
Closing his eyes, Namjoon let his head fall back. His mouth fell open, breathing staggered, as the vision of you taking him completely, whimpering and clinging to him, brought him close to his release. It didn’t take long for him to furiously pump his cock, biting his lip and whining as he lifted his shirt out of the way. He imagined you crying out, milking his cock as he came. The warm spurt of his seed on his hand brought him out of his fantasy, trying to catch his breath. His ice blue semen ended up on his stomach, as well. Letting out a tired moan, Namjoon decided a shower was the best course of action.
Your first thought as you came out of sleep was how comfortable you were. On your side, you were wrapped up in a soft, thick blanket, one hand under your cheek and the other wrapped around your bed partner. You squeezed him, rubbing your face against his naked chest. It was cool to the touch, but it didn’t bother you. In fact, the touch of his skin on yours made an ache appear between your legs. You absent-mindedly placed a kiss on his chest, eyes still closed, and let out a soft sound of contentment. A well-muscled arm wrapped around you, splaying his hand on your back, and pulled you close.
You breathed in the scent of a fresh winter breeze as you opened your eyes, tilting your head up. Namjoon’s pale blue eyes met yours, a sleepy smirk on his lips. You blinked up at him, your mind trying to remember everything that had happened in the last six hours. He waited patiently, a sparkle in his eyes. Finally, a smile came to your lips. It wasn’t a dream. Wait, not a dream? I fell asleep… and now I’m awake…
“Angel, what’s on your mind? The light in your eyes became a bit more dull,” Namjoon asked, frowning. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek. His large hand, cold but comforting, seemed extremely real, as did the memories of the sensations you had left hours earlier.
“Am I dreaming?” you quietly asked, holding his gaze.
“No. This is real. Magical, but real. And you have plenty of time to enjoy your Christmas Eve some more.” His hand left your cheek. Namjoon rolled onto his back, pulling you close. Your head ended up on his chest, with one leg thrown over his thighs. He played with the strands of your hair as he continued. “Look out the window, see the curvature of the glass?”
“What do you mean?” you asked, shifting only your eyes toward the window. Sunrays fell into the room through the curtains, hitting the floor. You saw a house a few yards away, and then the park. Two families were out, one familiar and one not, laughing and having fun throwing snowballs and sledding. The curtains blocked you from seeing anything definitively.
“Oh, yeah, curtains.” Namjoon lifted his free hand and swiped his hand through the air. The curtains parted enough for you to see the events happening, as well as the trees. He pointed with the same hand, showing you something. “Above the trees, if you look at it just right, you can see the light of the sun bounce off the glass.”
You followed his finger, watching the spot curiously. After two seconds, you saw it. The light glinting off something round. Eyes widening, you sat up, the blanket falling off the top half of you, and looked down at Namjoon. He raised an eyebrow as he put his hands behind his head. For a moment, you were distracted by his broad shoulders, oddly tinted smooth skin, and almost defined abs. You blinked, making yourself focus on this new information.
“Snowglobe,” you stated, looking back out the window. “Wait… could you close the curtain? I don’t want them to see...”
“Sure,” Namjoon chuckled, lifted a hand to swipe the curtains closed, then putting it back under his head. “Yes, the snowglobe. We are in the item you purchased last week.”
“How?” You didn’t know what else to say, staring down at him beside you. He studied you for a moment, his eyes moving over your face, searching for something. Seemingly satisfied, he continued in a patient voice.
“Magic. I… was put here as a punishment for something I did a very long time ago, when I was still very young.” As he said it, you saw his eyes shift away. He bit his lip nervously, and you wondered what kind of things he did to be punished in something like this. You opened your mouth to ask, but he started to talk once more. “I wanted to one-up the Frost Family, to put it bluntly. My actions caused harm to humans indirectly.”
“Oh…” You reached out a hand and placed it on his chest. He moved a hand to rest on top of yours. “How long? Are you in here, I mean?”
“Aren’t you going to ask what I did?” He grinned with surprised amusement, furrowing his brow.
“Would you be comfortable telling me?”
“Not at the moment,” he stated, closing his eyes. A stuttering breath left his lips, causing your hand to rise and fall with his chest. After a moment, Namjoon opened his eyes. “I don’t want to cause your wish to be unfulfilled. No stress, remember?”
“Could you… can you see me through the sky?” You glanced toward the window once again.
“Yes, but not often. The fates seem to decide when it’s appropriate. Anyway, it’s Christmas Eve Day! Sowon gives out delicious treats in the morning.” He stood from the bed and put his hands on his lean waist for a moment. In a moment, his dark blue sweatpants had changed to black jeans, and a long-sleeved sweater with Santa on the front appeared on his torso. He turned and held out his arms, showing off. “We should hurry before they’re all gone. Bora and the other kids might get there before us..”
“Can I do that? Like I did last night with the red dress?” You looked down and realized you were still wearing it. Namjoon nodded and beckoned you with two fingers. You pushed the blankets off your body and stood next to him.
“Close your eyes and imagine what you’d like to wear.” You did as he suggested. You felt his chilly hands wrap around yours, and you took a deep breath.
Namjoon held your hand the whole walk to the store, where a short christmas elf stood just outside the door with a large tray in his hands. Four young children were bouncing around him, almost the same height, grinning. It was alarming how pleased he was with your outfit choice. You had chosen almost the exact same outfit, and Namjoon couldn’t help but think of the phrase couple’s outfit as you walked together. Your hand was warm and inviting, a touch he hadn’t felt… well, ever. He was extremely happy you kept your hand in his, squeezing when you wanted to show him something, or just swinging it playfully between the two of you. When the children and Sowon saw Namjoon and you walking toward them, Sowon stood tall - all four feet of him - and held the tray above his head.
“Ah, Namjoon! There you are! I was worried you weren’t going to make it this morning…” He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of your hands together. Raising his eyebrows, he looked questioningly at Namjoon. “That’s… I mean… you’re….”
“Yes, this is her.” Namjoon felt your steps slowing, so he tugged on your hand gentle, throwing a smile over his shoulder to reassure you. You walked a little faster, squeezing Namjoon’s hand with nervousness. You stared at Sowon, mouth open, surprised.
“Elf. You’re an elf,” you state. The children giggle, and come up to you. They introduce themselves, lifting their hands to shake yours. Namjoon reluctantly let’s go of your hand for you to respond to their actions, stepping up beside Sowon as you introduce yourself to the kids. As you’re finding out all about them, Sowon leans a little closer to Namjoon.
“The human who bought this globe. Why is she here? And not during a dream?” he whispered, holding the tray tightly in his hands.
“Boreas visited me a few days ago.” That made Sowon turn his head completely to Namjoon, eyes wide with wonder. Namjoon glanced at him and then turned his gaze back to you. “I thought I was in trouble, too, but it seems the fates have decided to give me a task.”
“And what is this task?” he asked, still shocked about Boreas visiting him. He set the tray on a small table that was near the door.
“Make her wish come true.”
“Oh.” Apparently the Christmas elf didn’t know what else to say, so he turned back and tilted his head, studying you as the children waved goodbye. He lifted a hand to wave back, and the children ran off toward their own houses. Before he could ask anything else, you appeared in front of Namjoon and Sowon. “Hello, my dear, I am Sowon, the owner of this store. Yes, I am an elf, an elder, actually. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He said your name slowly, making sure he pronounced it correctly. You nodded politely and shook his hand.
“Namjoon told be about your treats. May I try one?” you asked, glancing at Namjoon. He flushed, embarrassed to be caught staring at you with a goofy grin on his face. Sowon held back a little smile as he saw Namjoon’s face. Namjoon silently cursed his blue skin being so obviously flushed purple. Sowon lifted the tray back up, allowing you to look over the treats.
“All of these are made by myself,” Sowon stated proudly. He began to point out each type. “We have peppermint patties, hot chocolate cookie cups, red velvet cookies with frosting, christmas bark, vanilla shortbread cookies, candy puffcorn, and ginger spice cookies.”
You tried a small bite of everything, offering a bite to Namjoon each time you took one. You gestured for him to open his mouth, and he did. You put each small portion of the treat into his mouth, eyes locked on his mouth. Each time, he resisted the urge to bite playfully at your fingers, wondering if they’d be sticky and sweet with the crumbs. With each treat, Namjoon felt a rare warmth spreading in his chest, and further down his body.
“I… think we’ve tried all of them,” he stuttered, clearing his throat. You turned to him, licking some sprinkles off your lips. He wondered if you knew what you were doing to him, teasing him with your pink tongue against the lips he wanted to kiss very much right at this moment. “Come with me,” he suddenly said, taking your hand and pulling you into the shop. Sowon blinked as Namjoon pulled you away, then shrugged, going about his business. He walked away, taking the rest of the treats with him like every morning, offering them around the tiny globe town.
Meanwhile, Namjoon pulled you across the store, knowing exactly where he was going. You followed curiously, not saying anything as he finally came to a stop in front of a door. He opened it and turned toward you.
“And now what?” you asked, chuckling with amusement. “Joon, your face is all purple. What’s on your mind?” You walked past him, into the little storage room. He followed, closing the door behind him. Now alone with you, Namjoon realized the name you had called him. A nickname, as if you were familiar with him, as if you were in a close relationship. He liked it.
“I really want to kiss you. I didn’t think doing it in front of Sowon would be polite.” He took a few steps toward you, then put his hands on your hips. You placed your hands on his arms and grinned up at him.
“You’re so considerate,” you reply, standing on your toes to brush your lips against his. Namjoon moaned gently, turning your body so your back was against the door. He pressed his body against you, so close you could feel his erection. You squeezed his biceps as his lips crash down onto yours. This kiss was much rougher than the kisses from before, all tongue and teeth, with Namjoon’s fingers diving into your hair to hold your head still.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, pulling his lips from yours for breath. His body trembled. Namjoon flexed his hips so his dick rubbed against your stomach. “Should I stop? I don’t want to stop, but we’re in the store closet and -”
“Are you saying you want to fuck me in the closet, where someone might hear us through the door?”
The words that fell from your lips made your whole body heat with excitement. The chance of getting caught had never been something you’d wanted to try, but now that you were here, with Namjoon…. You licked your lips as you raised your eyebrows at him, waiting for his answer. His pupils were blown wide with desire, hands still in your hair. He placed his forehead against yours, your noses touching and his breath on your lips.
“I would fuck you any place you’d let me,” he murmured with a smirk, lips brushing against yours. You sucked in a breath as his hands fell from your hair and landed on your hips. “Hold tight.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you, biting your lip to smother a squeak as your legs wrapped around his own waist. His clothed erection pressed directly against your clothed opening. You groaned, nuzzling his neck. “This isn’t the place to go slow and steady, angel. Let me get you off now and then we’ll head back home.”
“I think I want to get you off,” you teased, grinding yourself against him. You unhooked your legs around him and placed them on the floor. Namjoon let you turn your bodies until his back was on the door. Blinking, as if he wasn’t sure he heard you right, Namjoon stared at you as slowly slid to your knees.
“You do remember this is about you, right, Angel?” Namjoon’s breath staggered as you began to undo the button on his jeans. He reached out and swiped some hair behind your ears as you pulled the zipper down. “Your wish, pleasing you.”
“I would be very pleased if you put your dick in my mouth, Joon,” you grinned. Namjoon growled a curse and let his hand fall to his side. As you pushed his jeans down over his hips, stopping just enough to pull his dick out, the main door to the store was heard opening. Namjoon froze, but you kept your eyes locked with his and wrapped your hand around his thick, hardening cock. He swallowed hard.
“Angel,” he whispered, hands fisted at his sides. He didn’t say anything else as he gazed down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. You turned your attention to his member in your hands, your fingers unable to curl completely around him. It was turning almost the color of lilac, the blue mixing with redness of blood that was flowing into it. You slowly slide your hand up, and then down.
“The skin is cool, but it’s also warm underneath,” you murmured, moving your hand a little faster. His dick was now completely hard, with a drop of icy blue precum at the top. Your eyes widened with interest. Namjoon sucked in a breath through his nose as your tongue came out to taste the small drop.
“Fuck, angel, fuck,” he murmured, bringing his hand up to bite the knuckle of a finger. You saw his thighs shudder as your blew on the head of his dick. His cum had a cool flavor to it, almost like peppermint. You hummed your approval as you looked up at him, all the while moving your hand up and down his member.
On the other side of the door, probably near the store counter, you both heard Sowon humming to himself. The shuffling of his feet, then the sound of a mop hitting the floor, told you he was cleaning up the shop at the moment. Your gaze moved back to his member as you licked against the head once more. His hips jerked as you took the tip into your mouth and sucked lightly, rolling your tongue against it. You let spit fall from your mouth as you tongued him, lubricating the shaft as you continued to pump with your hand.
As the humming and shuffling of Sowon came closer, you lowered your lips more and more onto Namjoon’s cock. One hand of his came to lay on the back of your head, the other still against his mouth. When the humming and sound of mopping was right next to the door, you took as much of his dick as you could, almost to the point of gagging. Namjoon shuddered as his hand pressed the back of your head gently, asking for you to go deeper. You did your best, only a couple of inches to go. His fingers tangled in your hair, hands trembling, as you swallowed and had to stop with an inch left. Cursing, Namjoon’s eyes closed and his hips jerked. That caused you to finally gag, and you pulled off his cock, a long strand of spit connecting his member and your mouth as you sucked in oxygen.
The sound of humming stopped a moment, causing both Namjoon and you to lock eyes, holding your breath. His lavender cock twitched, your hand holding it’s base. The link of spit broke as the humming started up once again. It stayed near the door, but that didn’t stop you from licking your lips and grinning. Namjoon’s hand fell from his mouth as his jaw tightened, both hands falling to your head.
“More, Angel,” he whispered harshly, eyes pleading. “Please,” he added, biting his lip as he guided you back toward his cock. You happily took him back inside your mouth, the tip hitting the back of your throat as Namjoon’s head fell back quietly against the door. A soft whimper came from his mouth as you bobbed your head, your tongue stroking as you moved. “Don’t stop,” he breathed, hand guiding your head gently. His hips bucked. The peppermint taste of his precum started to cover your tongue, telling you he was close.
You pulled back for air, fisting his cock and pumping it quickly. Namjoon lowered his eyes to you. His cock was right in front of your face, his hands cupping your head as you both locked eyes. His jaw twitched and a low hiss escaped him. You opened your mouth, settling it just under the tip of his dick, still stroking his member as Namjoon’s eyes widened. He struggled to keep his eyes open as his whole body shuddered, icy blue cum spurting from his cock and into your mouth. You kept your mouth opened as he finished, muffling his grunts with his lips tightly closed. His hips jerked once more, his cock jumping in your hand, as the last shot of cum landing on your tongue. You swallowed as he gasped for air, hands lowering from your head and falling to his sides.
You licked your lips, enjoying the strange taste of his release, as you stood. Shakily, you pressed yourself against him, wrapping your arms around Namjoon’s waist. His member was still out, pressed between the two of you, but you didn’t care as you held his trembling body. Namjoon’s head fell to your shoulder, and his arms circled you and squeezed. With his nose buried in your neck, you both held each other as your breathing slowly became normal once again. The noises of Sowon cleaning was still happening, but on the other side of the building.
“Did you like that?” Namjoon whispered against your skin, almost hesitantly. You chuckled pulled away so he would look at you. You cupped his cheek and brushed your nose against his. He waited patiently for the answer, looking almost worried. It was endearing.
“I loved it,” you murmured. He opened his mouth, and then pulled back, glancing away sheepishly. You pressed your hand against his cheek to get him to look at you again. “What?”
“I’ve...um. Never done that,” he admitted, pressing his forehead against yours with his eyes closed. You took a moment to think over his words. Did that mean he’d never done what he had last night, either? Does that mean he hasn’t done anything before?
“Wait, really? What about last night, with your mouth…” His eyes fluttered opened and his eyebrows lifted. “Never?”
“No,” he murmured, looking proud of himself. “Surprised? Did I do well?”
“Well?” You burst out laughing, kissing him quickly, then pulling away. He let you tuck his member back into his pants, and zip them back up, smirking. “More than well, eleven out of ten, can’t wait to do it more.”
“Same,” he agreed.
The movements of Sowon had ended moments ago. He could now be heard whistling as he unpacked items onto the shelves. Namjoon winked at you as he opened the door. You followed him out, closing the storage room door, and took his hand. Walking confidently, you passed Sowon at the counter, who looked up, perplexed. Sputtering, he tried to ask where you two had been, but Namjoon just waved and shouted a cheery goodbye, pulling you with him.
He dropped your hand a little ways from the store, stopped, and crouched on the sidewalk. You stopped beside him, frowning. A high he had never felt made it seem like electricity was buzzing around his whole body. Scooping up a handful of snow, he quickly made it into a ball and stood. Before you could realize what he was doing, he took a few steps forward and turned, throwing it at you. It hit your shoulder, breaking apart into powder. Your mouth opened in surprised, eyes shining with excitement. He feigned innocence, shrugging and jogging backward with a grin. Namjoon’s heart bounced as your surprised expression turned into a devilish smile. He couldn’t help think it was adorable, even as you scooped up a handful of snow and patted it into a ball, stalking toward him as he walked backwards with his hands up. You chucked it at him with a gleeful shrieked, and he took the hit, knowing full well he could have just sidestepped it.
The snowball fight had started, and you spent a good half an hour tossing snowballs at each other as you made your way toward his home. You were both giggling and out of breath as you entered, the powdery faux snow covering your clothing. Namjoon shook his head, trying to get it out of his hair. It only got part of it out, so you stood on your toes and reached up, running your hand through it. Namjoon held back a groan as he did the same, pushing his fingers into your hair and shaking the strands to get the powder out of it. After a few moments, your breathing had returned to normal and the snow was mostly off of you.
“Hot chocolate?” he asked, pushing some hair behind your ear.
“With peppermint?”
“Your favorite, I think,” he replied with a wink over his shoulder. You snorted, knowing exactly what he was talking about. You watched him wander into his kitchen and open a cabinet, pulling out two mugs, both christmas themed. You sat on the couch and he sat beside you, placing the mugs on the coffee table. You looked at the empty cups, then back at him. He bent close and kissed you quickly. “Magic. Remember?”
“Oh, right,” you laughed. Namjoon waved his hand over the mugs, and suddenly steam appeared over them. They were automatically filled with the creamy, sweet drink, a stick of peppermint against the side of the cup. “Thank you,” you said, reaching for your drink.
You both sat for a while in comfortable silence, enjoying the warm beverage, sipping quickly. You ended up leaning against him, knees up and feet on the edge of the cushion as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close. Your body felt heavy, the craziness of everything in the last twelve or so hours sneaking up on you. The sun shone inside through the windows, the sheer curtains floating in a non-existent breeze. Namjoon knew from the angle of the light it was almost lunch time.
“Do you need to eat?” you randomly asked, placing the empty cup on the table. He did the same with his, then pulled you back against his side. You yawned, although you didn’t feel too tired.
“Not necessarily,” he said slowly. “I suppose I’m immortal, especially being in here. I do enjoy food, though I’m not much of a cook. I guess I’ve counted on my magic to make delicious meals.” He chuckled, absentmindedly running his hand through your hair.
“I see. I do need to eat, though. I’m starving. What kind of food can you make with magic right now?”
It was mid-afternoon when you finished your lunch with an impromptu magic show. Namjoon had made a simple sandwich meal lunch appear, with your favorite sandwich and sides, which you specifically had asked for. After he was finished, and while you were still chewing, Namjoon decided to show off some of his special talents. First, he took the ice rose he had made you the night before - which was still on the table - and had it dissolve into ice dust, gently falling through the air and disappearing. Next, he created a dazzling display of sea creatures seemingly swimming in water, but it was made out of ice and ice dust in front of you.
Lastly, Namjoon snapped his fingers and decorated the whole house in christmas lights, blinking a peaceful rhythm, making you smile as the main lights turned off and the curtains closed. All that was on now was the small christmas lights, throwing colorful, dim light all around you. You felt Namjoon’s eyes on your as soft snow-like dust fell all around just you, disappearing before touching the floor. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and stretched. You hadn’t been this calm, this relaxed, in what seemed like forever. Opening your eyes, you saw Namjoon standing in front of you, eyes widened with curious wonder.
“What?” you asked softly, not wanting to break the beautiful spell all around you.
“Have I granted your wish?” he asked, just as softly. He licked his bottom lip, hands tucked into his jean pockets.
“Absolutely. Why do you ask? Everything is perfect.”
“Just making sure,” he replied, a smile pulling at his lips. Unfortunately, you saw that it didn’t reach his eyes. Your chest started to ache, although you weren’t entirely sure why. The thought of Namjoon not being happy, like usual, made you sad.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, frowning as you reached up to cup his face. He placed a hand on your hand on his cheek, the sadness in his eyes disappearing. His grin lit up his face once more.
“Just thinking how beautiful you are, Angel.” His eyes started to sparkle with mischief. He turned his head and placed a kiss on your palm, and then moved your hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. The soft brush of his lips caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach, plus a warm ache between your legs. His teeth nipped at the tip of your thumb, then his tongue came out to slide over your finger. You breath caught in your throat as you watched his plump lips take the tip of your thumb into his mouth, sucking gently.
“J-Joon,” you stuttered, the warmth building to a blaze.
“I like that,” he murmured against your hand, moving his mouth back to your palm, kissing it gently. Finally, he let your hand fall as he cupped both of your cheeks with his hands, stepping closer. “That nickname. It makes it feel like we’re close… in a close relationship.”
“I think we are,” you murmur as his face comes closer. The dim Christmas lights are still lit up around you, but the blinking rhythm had stopped. His nose brushed against yours. “I want to be close to you.”
He only answered with a hum, then his lips fall upon yours. This kiss was different. It was slow and languid, like he was memorize your taste. You sighed against his lips, and his tongue entered your mouth without hesitation. Tilting your head, you opened your mouth and tangled your tongue with his. His arms went around you, holding you tightly against him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted, hands holding your ass as your legs went around him. As you continued to kiss, he walked effortlessly up the stairs toward the bed on the loft.
Slowly, gently, Namjoon set you upon the sheets, and laid next to you. On his side, he cradled your head in the crook of his arm as you got comfortable with it under your neck. He brushed your hair off your face and looked down at you. Yawning, you stared up at him, not wanting to break whatever magic that surrounded you two.
How many hours did he have left? Seven, six? It didn’t seem like enough time, to be honest, but there was nothing he could do. The fates had done this, let him bring you here, let him feel things he hadn’t ever felt before. He could chalk it up to magic, but what would happen when you left? Would he forget? Would the feelings go away? Would he remember? His heart aching to feel these wonderful feelings again? His thoughts must have shown on his face, because suddenly you frowned. Shit, he hadn’t meant to make you sad. He leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead.
“Take a rest. You’re going to need it tonight.” He winked at you and stood. You propped yourself up by the elbows, raising an eyebrow curiously.
“What if I’m not tired?”
“Then you don’t have to rest.” You stared at him, and Namjoon stared back, a small smirk on his lips.
“You didn’t enchant me with sleep magic, did you?” you yawned, falling back onto the bed. You turned to your side and snuggled deeper into the blankets. Namjoon lifted a hand and magically moved the blankets to tuck around you comfortably.
“No,” he chuckled. “You’ve been through a lot in the past 18 hours. Your body is probably overwhelmed, even if your mind isn’t.”
“Fuck, you’re right,” you replied with a sigh. You closed your eyes, letting the bed cradle you into a gentle sleep. Namjoon watched you from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He sighed heavily, then turned away, going downstairs. Namjoon found an ipad-looking item, sat on the couch, and stared at the black screen. After a long moment, Namjoon swallowed and straightened his back, steeling himself against the anxiety settling into his stomach.
With a press of a side button, Namjoon turned on the magic tablet, then pressed on the screen. He selected the icon to call the one who represented him so long ago during his trial. After a few tinkles of bells sounding, the face appeared. It didn’t look any different from the last time Namjoon had seen him, with a large grin and blue-tinted skin.
“Namjoon! Wow, it’s been… well, a long time. How are you? What are you calling me for? You didn’t get into trouble, did you?” He cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Namjoon chuckled and shook his head.
“No, Hoseok, I didn’t get into trouble. But… I do have a request. I need your help.” The dark-haired man opened his mouth, then closed it, mulling over Namjoon’s words. Leaning back in the desk chair he was sitting in, a small smirk came to his lips.
“Interesting. Tell me what you need, and I can tell you what I can do.”
“I want to be human.”
Hoseok’s eyes widened as he straightened with a jerk, almost causing him to roll away from the screen in the chair. Namjoon waited patiently as his friend kept opening and closing his mouth. Finally, Hoseok scooted closer to the screen and placed his face close enough to almost see up his nostrils.
“Why would you want to be human?” he whispered harshly, confused. “That’s... that’s a punishment in itself. Do you know how hard I worked to keep you from becoming a human?” He leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I know, I know. And I hope you know how grateful I am towards you. Now, though….“ Namjoon hesitated, glancing towards the loft above him. Hoseok gestured for him to continue. “The fates have connected myself with a human woman, and -”
“Oh. Namjoon, you didn’t…” Hoseok sighed, his voice turning sympathetic. He rubbed his temples, which Namjoon took as a not-so-good sign. “Okay. Let me think. I… I’ll have to bring up your case again, talk to the magistrate. You’ll probably have to go tell them what you want and why they should give it to you. You’ll also have to face the Frost family.” Namjoon pressed his lips together in a thin line, narrowing his eyes. Hoseok shrugged helplessly.
“Fine. Can you get the process started?”
Your dreamless sleep was gently interrupted by the bed dipping beside you. Sighing, you rolled onto your side, toward the body that had stretched out there. Muscled arms wrapped around you as your cheek pressed against Namjoon’s chest, your arm laid over his torso. You nuzzled his chest, the scent of peppermint tickling your nose. Eyes still closed, you felt his fingers gently running through your hair.
“You smell good,” you mumbled into his shirt. Namjoon chuckled, his chest moving slightly. You lifted your head and moved toward his face, placing your lips on his for a moment. Soft smiles passed between the both of you as you pulled away. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running over your bottom lip slowly. You nipped at it playfully. Namjoon’s eyebrows raised.
“If you keep teasing me like that, I’ll return the favor.” He smirked, gazing at you with an intense stare. Your grin fell and you sucked in a quiet breath, noticing the change in the air. Pushing yourself onto your hands and knees, you manuvored yourself so you straddled his hips, leaning over him. His hands gripped your hips as you hovered over his body. “What do you want, angel? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.”
“Right now?” you asked innocently, letting your hips fall onto his. The apex of your thighs pressed against his member, which was hardening quickly. You wiggled, keeping your eyes locked with his. Namjoon’s eyes darkened and his fingers gripped your hips tighter, making you stop wiggling. “I want to feel you… inside me.”
“Same,” he growled, rolling over without hesitation, trapping you underneath him, your back pressed against the sheets. His hands found yours, settling them above your head, fingers entwined, as his hips flexed. You shivered, feeling his dick straining against his zipper. A shiver of anticipation went through your body. “How do you want me? Slow and soft, fast and hard?”
“All of them,” you replied, not able to chose. They were both equally desirable. Namjoon let out a laugh, then bent down, nuzzling your shoulder. He let the tip of his nose run over your shirt and then onto your skin as it pressed against your neck. You turned your head, giving him better access. Breathlessly, you let out a soft whine.
“Does that mean I get to pick?” His voice was deep, slightly muffled from your skin. You swallowed and nodded, lifting your hips to press even harder against his. He kissed your skin, then scraped his teeth in the same spot before pulling away. Hovering over you one again, he winked. Suddenly, both of you were naked, your clothes disappearing. As soon as his cool skin pressed against yours, you gasped.
“Joon!” you cried, feeling his hard cock rubbing against your opening as his hips jerked. Namjoon seemed to be as affected by your skin touching his because his eyes were closed tightly. Wiggling your body underneath him, you pulled your hands from his and wrapped them around his neck, pulling his forehead down to yours. His hands fisted the blanket on either side of your head. Sharing soft pecks on the lips, Namjoon opened his eyes. His light blue eyes had darkened to navy, his dick twitching as the head pressed against your opening.
“Not yet,” he rasped before covering your mouth with his. Immediately, you opened your lips and accept his tongue inside. Tilting your head, you clung to him with your arms as your hips moved desperately, the feel of his member sliding against your clit beginning to become overwhelming. Namjoon growled against your lips, biting the lower one, then devouring your taste once again, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. He pulled his hips away, causing you to groan into the kiss.
“Inside, please, Joon!” Whining, you tried to press his body back against you. He groaned and resisted your tugging, dipping his head so his lips pressed against your collarbone. You groaned and held onto his broad shoulders as his mouth moved lower, kissing down your chest. He placed an open mouth kiss on top of your right nipple and brought his fingers up to the other to give it as much attention.
“Gotta taste you first, Angel,” he panted between nips and licks against your breast. You groaned and tangled your fingers in his hair as he blew against the tip. After a while, he switched to the other nipple. “I can already smell your arousal. I know you’re so slick for me, ready for my cock to slide right inside.”
“Yes,” you gasped, tugging at his hair. He lifted his head, a grin on his face, and pressed his lips to yours once again. As he slowly savored your mouth, one of Namjoon’s hands ran lightly over your torso, making goosebumps appear everywhere. “Please touch me. I love your fingers…”
“I know. I’m glad,” he murmured as he pressed a finger against your aching clit. You groaned and kissed him harder, biting his lip. He chuckled as he flexed his hips against you, his dick warming against your skin. He began to make figure eights with his finger, looking proud of himself as he looked down at your face.
“You’re so beautiful, Angel. Responding to my every touch.”
He leaned forward, his finger still moving as you shuddered under him, and pressed his lips against your cheek. Whispering, he placed his lips near your ears to say, “I can’t wait to cum inside you, to truly make you mine.”
“Yes,” you repeated, sloppily kissing him deeply. You put one hand over his hand between your legs, and pressed it lower, asking without words for more. Namjoon hum in appreciation, nipping at your lips, and slid two fingers over your opening. You both groaned at the same time, your hips jerking.
“Fuck, Angel, I was right. I’ll have no probably sliding completely inside you.” He pressed his two fingers inside, slowly moving them in and out. You spread your thighs wider. Namjoon pulled his fingers out suddenly.
“Don’t stop!” you cried out, reaching for his hand to place it back between your legs. Namjoon avoided your hand and brought his fingers to his mouth. Grinning, he licked your juices off.
“I’m not going to stop….”
“Can you please put your dick in me, Joon?” you pleaded desperately, squirming under him. Namjoon seemed surprised, but only for a moment. He spread your thighs with his knees, eyes widening in with anticipation as he lined the head of his cock against your slit. You shared a final look between the two of you, then he pressed forward slowly.
You both let out a heavy sigh of pleasure as he slid into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you angled your hips to allow him deeper access. He pressed his forehead against yours, his cock fully entered you. Even though his body was cool, his dick was hot and throbbing in you.
“I promised to give you anything you wanted,” he whispered against your lips. You flexed your hips, causing his dick to shift against your walls. “Let me lead, Angel, please. I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”
“I’m gonna go crazy if you don’t start moving!”
Namjoon laughed at your demand, rubbing your noses together as he slowly pulled out. You both groaned as he stopped halfway and pressed forward once again. Slow and steady, he pushed then pulled, repeating the movement as his lips explored your mouth and the skin of your neck. He sucked there as he began to pick up speed, this time pulling his dick all the way out before thrusting inside. You shifted upward on the bed with his hard movement, but held on tightly as he continued his rough pace. As he sucked and bit bruises into your neck, you tried to catch your breath as the smell of peppermint surrounded you.
“You’re so warm, so inviting, so wet. All for me, only for me, Angel,” Namjoon panted and pulled his face from your neck, pausing his thrusts to use his hands spread your thighs wider. Your knees pulled up toward your torso, opening yourself to him as much as possible.
“Yes, yes,” you chanted, hips lifting to meet his quickening thrusts. One hand pressed your thigh down, holding yourself open for him, surely leaving marks to see later. His other hand held himself up over your, giving himself a good lever to use as he fucked into you over and over. Your shut your eyes tightly, burying your face into his chest as you cried out with each movement. You felt and heard his hips slapping against yours. When one of his fingers pressed against your clit, you jerked and bit into the skin of Namjoon’s shoulder.
“That’s it, Angel. Let go. For me. Let go for me.” He continued to whisper encouraging, sweet words down toward you, hips and fingers moving in a rhythm of intense pleasure. A familiar feeling of pleasurable warmth started to grow in your lower body, spreading steadily as Namjoon continued to touch and talk to you. His thrusts started to grow uneven, whines coming from his lips.
“Oh, god!” you cried out, cursing as you shuddered and clinched against his cock, surrounded by his smell and whimpers as he sloppily thrust into you, about to reach his own peak. You rolled your hips as another small tremor slide from your head to your toes. You nuzzled Namjoon’s cheek with your own as he cried out, his release coating your walls. He jerked against you, holding you tightly as you continued to move your hips to help him as much as possible.
Gasping for breath, Namjoon’s head spun, his release sending him into some kind of euphoric state, where nothing mattered except you and him, your bodies wrapped around one another. He couldn’t hold himself up, so he fell on top of you, mumbling an apology. For several long moments, he listened to your heartbeat, ear to your chest, as you both worked to breath normally. Your fingers ran through his hair, both of you quietly enjoying the soft moment. Finally, Namjoon began to worry he was hurting you.
“Sorry, Angel,” he sighed, pulling himself off of you. Before he could completely leave, though, you smiled tiredly at him and wrapped your arms around his neck. You pulled him back toward you, and Namjoon didn’t want to deny you anything right now. He went right back to where he was, cheek on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as you stroked his hair. “Sure I’m not hurting you?”
“Nope,” you mumbled. “I love to cuddle after sex. Especially with you.” The last part was added after a moment of hesitation.
The words caused Namjoon’s chest to ache with both happiness and sadness. Your time was coming to its limit soon, and the thought was edging it’s way to the surface. He suspected you were now thinking the same thing, from the way your fingers stopped for a moment before starting once again moving through his hair. “How much longer?” you asked after a while of silence.
“I….” Namjoon trailed off, shifted slightly to look toward the covered window. He lifted his fingers to use magic to pull the curtains slightly away as to see the sky. “I think… four hours, maybe?”
“Ah.”
“Angel,” Namjoon softly said, lifting himself enough to hover over your, his face now just above yours. He brushed his nose against yours, and then his lips against your own. Namjoon closed his eyes, enjoying the simple touches as he kissed you. This kiss was much less passionate than the ones earlier. He wasn’t sure what this one was filled with, honestly. He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side, arm still over your torso. He didn’t want to stop touching you.
“Joon,” you answered with a grin, rolling onto your own side to face him. His chest ached heavily now, and he did his best not to show it, not to let you notice he was starting to hurt from the thought of you leaving. “I would be happy to spend the rest of my night right here, in your arms.”
“Perfect,” he murmured. You buried your face into his naked chest, not seeing Namjoon bite his lip hard enough to make him visibly wince. He held you tightly, and you returned with the same.
Neither of you awoke when an unseen clock starting to chime twelve times. One… Two… Three… With each chime, the faux snow fell heavier and heavier, just as it had the time you had came here twenty-four hours ago. Neither of you felt each other fade from your arms, but the ache of separation from someone special wasn’t something that would go away as soon as everything went back to normal.
With sunlight slipping through the sheer curtains on your window, your eyelids flutter open. Blinking, you take a moment for your mind to become clear from sleep. Sitting up, you take a deep breath and stretch your hands over your head. You look down and see yourself in your usual snowflake pajamas. Everything seemed normal, but your mood was much brighter than it had been in the weeks before. Rolling your neck, you catch the sunlight glinting off something. Looking fully toward your side table, you see the snowglobe. The world inside the glass globe was calm and serene, just as it should be.
Checking your phone, you realize it was Christmas Day, not Eve. Frowning at yourself in the mirror, you wondered if the holiday depression you had felt had made you pass through the day without realizing. As you got ready for your day, tiny snippets of your dream from last night built into a full memory. In the shower, you looked wide-eyed at your thighs, seeing small bruises where fingertips could have been. While you brushed your teeth, you eyed the hickies on your neck, flushing.
As you finished covering them with make-up, you froze, staring at yourself. Suddenly, you started to laugh, a full belly laugh that seemed to take over your whole body. After a long moment of laughing as tears streamed down your face, you finally calmed, the dream fully coming back. It hadn’t been a dream, you knew it. You also felt an ache in your chest when you thought of him, the winter spirit who had made your wish come true. Wiping the tears off your cheeks, you walked back into your room. The globe on your table hadn’t moved, nothing inside had changed. Letting out a mournful sigh, you reach your fingers toward the item, but stopped just before you touched the glass globe.
As you left your bedroom, you saw a beautiful etching of frost on your window. You recognized the landscape that appeared - the park of the snowglobe. You wondered if Namjoon had done it, although you knew you had no way of knowing if he truly had.
Swallowing, Namjoon stood tall in the middle of the room. The raised stage in front of him had all the Winter Council members, as well as Boreas the Winter God, seated to face him. He also felt the eyes of the Frost Family behind him, only allowed into this because of the fact they were the Frost Family. Usually, no one except the Council, the accused, and their representative would be allowed in this room. Hoseok had done his best to convince the Council to get rid of the Frost Family, but the winter council seemed to like smug spirits more than the law of their beings. Boreas, as an observer only, couldn't do a damn thing, although he looked as annoyed as Hoseok and Namjoon did.
“His actions led to the deaths of thousands of humans, Council Leader,” said Jack Frost, the leader of the famous family, stood next to Namjoon. “As winter spirits, we need to be in control of our powers. It seems only the Frosts are able to do that.”
“So it seems,” Namjoon murmured. Everyone looking at him raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. He forced himself to unclench his jaw. “I am not here to deny these events. I understand my actions contributed to the deaths of humans.”
“Then why are you here?” the council leader asked, sighing with boredom.
“I want my sentence to be changed.”
“You can’t be trusted out in our world,” Jack hurried said, glaring at Namjoon.
“I don’t want my powers anymore.”
The room fell silent, with everyone but Namjoon, Hoseok, and Boreas staring at him in shock. Boreas actually had a smirk forming on his lips, but he hid it quickly. Namjoon waited a long moment for anyone to say something, but when no one did, he relaxed his whole body. Jack snapped out of it at that moment and started to laugh. Namjoon glared at him, but decided to keep talking.
“It seems the Fates have shown me a different life that may be available to me. I’m going to trust the Fates, but only you can change me into a human to follow that path.”
“You don’t want your powers anymore,” the Council Leader repeated.
“No.”
“You want to be human?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” The council leader furrowed his brows and leaned forward, suddenly interested. “Humans are… well, mortal, living short lives, with no magic. At all. No magic.” He repeated the phrase like it was the most important issue here.
“You guys don’t want me to have powers anymore, so just take them. The Frost Family can rule over the winter realm like everyone wants, and I don’t have to deal with the drama that comes with that.”
Boreas let out a snort, causing all eyes to rest on him. He fixed his face quickly, staring blankly back at everyone. Eyes turned back to Namjoon.
“Maybe you do have common sense,” Jack muttered. He shrugged. “Fine. Take his powers, make him a human. The Frost Family is fine with not being responsible for keeping him locked up. Good luck, Namjoon.” Jack obviously didn’t mean it, though. He quickly held up his middle finger, hiding it enough for only Namjoon to see it as he left the room.
“Boreas, sir,” the Council Leader stuttered, turning towards the God. “What do you make of this?”
“I’m only an observer, here in case nothing is worked out.” The Council Leader opened his mouth, but Boreas continued to talk. “You’ve wanted to do it since he was sentenced. Now that he wants it done, why are you hesitating?”
Usually, during Christmas evening, you would be with your family, playing board games that turn into huge competitions long into the night. This time, since they were on a cruise and enjoying the sun, you were alone. Still, you had a plan. After speaking to your family through video chatting, you made your way to the large hospital of the city. You hadn’t been there for a long while as a volunteer, so it took a while to get your information straightened out, but finally you made your way to the children’s oncology department.
Even though these children and their families didn’t know you, they welcomed you with open arms. Other volunteers were around the large conference room. A huge christmas tree was in the middle of the room, allowing everyone to wonder around it to see the different areas. There were places to read to children or read alone, do an art project, play instruments, write letters to Santa, take pictures with Santa, and many other activities.
You divided your time between all the booths for a while, helping with keeping snacks and water stocked for everyone. You hadn’t had this much fun-- this much happiness-- around you in such a long time. It seemed like everything was back to normal, except for the ache in your chest you knew was for Namjoon. As the sun was setting, and the booths were being packed up and closed, you stepped out into the hallway that lead to an exit, wanting some fresh air. Even though you had on your warmest outerwear, it still stung your nose and ears as you stepped outside. You saw a figure near you, seemingly doing the same thing. He looked familiar, and you recognize the coat and hat he was wearing. He had been reading to the kids for the last hour, when you had been helping with the letter writing booth.
“The kids loved you reading to them.” The figure turned, looking fully toward you. Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. His grin turned to confusion, although his deep dimples never disappeared.
“Yes… are you okay? Do I have something on my face?” Immediately, he lifted his gloved hands, patting his cheeks. You swallowed and waved your hands.
“No, no! No, you don’t, you just… you look familiar. Do I… know you? Do you know me?”
“I don’t... think so? But, you do look familiar. And I don���t think it’s because of the previous hour I was here….” He looked thoughtfully out into the parking lot, then turned his gaze back to you. “I’m Namjoon. I was going to get some coffee before heading home. Would… would you like to join me?”
When he said his name, you froze, unable to breathe. Namjoon seemed to take it as something else, because he was suddenly backtracking his question, stuttering over his words. “You don’t have to, I know it’s late, you’re probably heading back home to your family and- ”
“I’d love to,” you interrupt, the ache in your chest turning to hope. Namjoon grinned. As you walked beside him, you wondered if this was really what your heart was wishing for days ago. The Fates had listened to your words, but seemed to delve even deeper than you had intended. You had wished for a companion, but maybe it was meant to be more than just one day.
#25DaysofBTSXmas#bangtanhq#btsguild#btswriterscollective#hyunglinenetwork#namjoon x reader#m: namjoon#t: fic#fic: namjoon
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The Most Natural Thing In The World
Part 7
Summary: An experienced Dom and a virgin meet in a bar. Can he introduce her to a world she’s always imagined but never known before? Is it everything she wanted?
Words: 1,770
Warnings: Lots of lots of edging and teasing and then some serious spanking, leading to the reader experiencing subdrop.
A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fills my subdrop square.
The first five hurt more than anything that ever hurt before, but you revel in it so you ask for another five. Five more strikes with the cane, but as nine strikes your skin the pain is overwhelming. “Red!”
Spencer drops the cane to the floor and crouches at your side, cradling your face in his hands. “Are you okay?” Before his eyes had been filled with confidence, determination, arousal, but now they’re filled with fear. Fear that he’d gone to far and truly hurt you. The truth is that you took a few extra hits to impress him. You failed as a submissive.
“I’m okay. Just…that last one put me over the top.”
He kisses you and stands up to grab you carefully, placing you down on the bed before grabbing some lotion. When you move, you wince, the pain truly showing itself. You should not have let it go that far.
Determined, Spencer glides back and forth across the room, looking for everything he’ll need to take care of your very sore bottom. There’s the pain of an initial strike and then the pain that blooms after nerve endings that were compressed before return to normal. It’s white hot. And while it was enjoyable for the first five, you’d overestimated your tolerance on the last five.
You feel Spencer sit on the mattress, your body dipping toward his. He carefully applies an antibiotic cream to areas on both cheeks that you assume are slight cuts or abrasions. When he lays an ice pack across your ass, you hiss at the sting, but after a few seconds it eases, feeling so much better. Spencer lies down beside you and grazes his hand through your hair. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Did you do that on purpose? Take more than you thought you could?”
Ashamedly, you nodded. “The first five were great and I underestimated what the next five would do. I thought I could take it. And I wanted to. But I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I should’ve realized what you were doing and –“
“It’s on me, too, Spence. It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“Okay, only five at a time from now on.”
You sidle up against him, arm around his waist and head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as he tells you how to care for your bottom over the next few days. “You have to ice on and off over the course of the next 24 to 48 hours. Fifteen minutes at a time. Okay?”
“Yes, Sir,” you say sleepily, mind numb and loopy and happy, free of anything but the sound of his voice and the beat of his heart. “And Tylenol for pain, no ibuprofen because that can prolong bleeding.”
“Good girl.” He floats his hand across the small of your back as he continues. “You’ve heard of subdrop right?”
“The concept yes, but I’m not sure of what it is exactly.”
Cradling your face, he ensures he has your attention as he describes what it is and how it can manifest. “It doesn’t always happen. You may never experience it, but I want you to know what it is just in case it does happen.” Apparently, subdrop involves your body releasing all sorts of endorphins and enkephalins. They make you feel like your pain tolerance is higher and can have an almost morphine-like effect on you. “The thing is that all that happy endorphins come out all at once during a scene like that and typically they trickle out over the course of a day with little bursts during exercise or something like that. You can only replace those endorphins at a normal rate, so that in between time can feel like a drug withdrawal without the drugs.”
“Oh, wow,” you reply, stunned. You smile into his chest while he continues info-dumping about the side effects – tired, feelings of loneliness and insecurity, mental exhaustion, possible tremors, bruising. “So I shouldn’t sit a lot tomorrow if I can help it?”
“Yea, you’ll feel that tomorrow, not like a normal spanking, and that pain will exhaust you over time because your body spent all those happy hormones and can’t replace them fast enough. The worst symptoms are the emotional ones though,” he says, gathering you into his arms and lifting you onto him so your skin is flush with his. “That lack of hormones can make you feel abandoned or depressed or unloved. And I never want you to feel that way, so if something happens, please text me or call me and as soon as I can reply, I will, and I’ll help you through it. It can hit you like a ton of bricks during the most innocuous tasks, so just really keep aware of how you’re feeling.”
It sounds like a lot – though it’s a possibility, not a given. Even so, the possibility is worth it for the intense pleasure you experience at his hands. “I love you, Spence.”
“I love you, too, Y/N,” he says softly. “I think I might pass out.”
“Me too.” You fall asleep in seconds, a satisfied smile across your face.
----
Spencer has to leave for work the next day and at first it’s no big deal. You go about your day just as you normally would when it hits you – that bone deep feeling of insecurity. Why would he want to stay with you when he couldn’t do all the things he wanted to do with you? Were you being selfish for staying with him? Not allowing him to find someone that fit with him perfectly? Your heart begins to race, thumping so hard against your ribcage that you’re afraid it might burst it.
Swallowing hard, you grasp your specialty coffee from the barista – a peppermint mocha – but the sweet taste you wanted is now bitter. You’ve heard of people saying they can “taste” certain emotions because they’re so powerful, but before this moment you hadn’t understood what that meant. But now you know. This is fear.
----
You attempt a walk in the park to calm yourself down, but all it does is allow your mind time to wander, so instead of watching the couple in front of you walk hand in hand, laughing like they hadn’t a care in the world, you head back to the apartment and wrap up in a blanket.
Spencer says he loves you. He wouldn’t lie. You have to hear his voice. Pulling out your phone, you ask him to call you as soon as he can.
I’m not feeling great, Spence. Really…alone.
You place the phone back in your pocket and wrap the blanket tighter around yourself as you curl into the couch. Slowly, your eyes close and the voices get louder - the ones that tell you you’re not good enough, the ones that convince you Spencer’s going to dump you the moment he finds someone better.
It felt like seconds later, but apparently it was nearly an hour when the phone buzzing startles you awake. “Hello?” You ask sleepily, not bothering to check who’s calling.
“Y/N, are you okay?” He sounds terrified. You’ve never heard him like that before. “Y/N, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here. I just…I was grabbing coffee today and I got this feeling. Like you didn’t really love me. That you’d dump me when you found someone better. I went for a walk to try and clear my head but that only made it worse and then I remembered you telling me to call you or text you if I felt that way, so-“
“Breathe,” he interrupted. “I love you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved before. I’m in my hotel room for the night. I’ll stay here and say it over and over again if that’s what you need.”
Smiling to yourself, you shiver a bit, the insecurity still there in waves despite his affirmations. “I wish you were here.”
“I do too,” he says sincerely. “Next time we want to experiment with something we haven’t done before, it needs to be when I don’t have to go to work the next day.”
“Yea,” you sigh.
“Hey, why don’t you go into my closet? Right side in the back.”
Without much thought you get up and meander toward Spencer’s room. “Why?”
“I have something in there for you.”
Bending down, you push a few items of clothing to the side – a pair of pants that fell from a hanger, a random dress shoe – and there sits a box that says ‘in case of emergency’ with a little heart next to it. “What’s this?”
“Open it.” You can hear the smile in his voice.
Inside is a Disney movie, Moana, one of your favorites, a box of macaroons from a local store Spencer had taken you to before, some lavender oil and a piece of folded up paper with ‘For the Woman I Love’ written on it. “Now go put in the movie, sit on the couch, eat some chocolate and read the letter to me.”
You do exactly as he says, popping an entire chocolate into your mouth as you unfold the letter.
“Read it out loud. It’ll sink in more that way.”
I hope that you’ll never have to read this and that I’ll just be able to say it all myself, but if not, here it is. After prison, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be the same. It kind of felt like my heart had been strangled to death. I moved through life in a different way. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to let someone in. And then I saw you and I just knew. You had my heart. It was hiding with you all along.
Our dynamic is amazing and everything I’ve ever wanted in that aspect of a relationship, but apart from that you’re still everything I need. My confidant. My best friend. My happiness.
I love you. You’re everything to me.
“Spence,” you whisper as you wipe a tear from your eye. “I love you, too. So much. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. But I’ll be home soon and tonight I’ll stay on the line until you fall asleep.”
The waves of insecurity from before fade further and further away as you sink back into the couch and start singing. Maybe those feelings of un-lovability will linger for a while, but with Spencer on the other line at least you won’t have to fight them alone.
#cmkinkbingo#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid smut#dontshootmespence#the most natural thing in the world#part 6
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