#which made him taller than all his peers and almost as tall as his parents and it made him super self conscious n feel like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fluffi · 3 years

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SARCOLINE SUNSET I: WELCOME HOME, OUTSIDER :: SOOBIN

pairing: soobin x gn!reader, platonic!ot5 x gn!reader genre: fluff, some subjective angst, bits of humor, enemies-to-lovers, childhood friends word count: 4002 event: #summerscape for @kpopscape credit: @enha-woodzies for making the gfx for this series! show her some love <3 author’s note: i accidentally deleted this post so here is a rushed reupload. it might not be as good as the original because it isnt proof read as well but i still hope the algorithm picks it up, maybe this’ll be good for the post. Also, the second part will be coming out in 15 days. warnings: people disappearing, mentions of burning and fire (further warnings will be released in the next parts as the story gets darker)

THIS STORY IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT DICTATE JAY OR NI-KI’S PERSONAL LIVES AND/OR FAMILY.

part two ->

The blonde stared up at an intricately designed structure in awe, walking forward to touch the sides of it and running his calloused hands up and down its rusted carved wedges. It seemed oddly cliche and unrealistic, but he could feel its story. Every touch of the ceramic pillar provided him with emotion that he couldn’t bring himself to explain.

The sun hadn’t set yet, but he could make out the faint reflection of it settling in the background. The huge pine trees around him were making conversation with each other; their faint whispers and rustles providing peace to his veins.

So entranced in the scenery of such a mystical place, he forgot to watch out for his younger peer. Kicking back into his senses, he nervously called out, “Riki! You there?” His voice, usually strong and boisterous, laced fear today.

“Don’t worry about me Jay, I’m right behind you. Just climbing this fence..and..there!” Riki let out a grunt as he jumped onto the soft grass, looking at his older friend with an innocent grin.

At the sight of his buddy, Jay visibly loosened. It was clear that he didn’t feel safe in this environment, yet felt entranced to it in some way. Riki caught up to him in a quick jog before standing next to Jay, in awe at the magnificent view that they were spectating for the first and possibly last time.

“Is this…the place you were talking about?” Riki was out of breath from running after his peer. He pats the grassy patch below him before slumping onto it, crossing his legs afterward.

Jay took a seat next to him, setting his canvas satchel and leather jacket next to him. “According to the maps and books, this is the right spot. I just want to see if the myth is true.”

Riki clapped his hands in excitement and turned to face Jay. “We’re staying till the sun sets right? I want to see what the carousel looks like at night! This structure is so fascinating. It must be beautiful out here at night.”

“No, we’re walking back as soon as the sun goes down. I do not want to risk being out here at night. People have disappeared from staying too long and I wouldn’t want to worry your mother.”

Riki visibly slumped and turned back in time to see the last drop of orange dip. It was quiet for a while. The singing birds stopped humming their soulful tunes, yet the whispering trees grew louder, their inaudible gossip echoing in the ears of the two boys.

At nine at night, Riki’s mother would call Jay, heeding no response. She would do the same for his parents and his friends. The only piece of information they could provide was that Jay had brought Riki, in his words, to “a magical place”. With no other vital details they could draw from their son’s peers, Jay and Riki’s family agree to call the local police, reporting two missing people: two minors, one last seen in a brown leather jacket, and a taller one tailing alongside him. Both their hairs were dyed in a striking shade of blonde.

Summer’s heat-blasted onto your skin as soon as you stepped out of your sleek white Toyota. It was good to be back, you supposed. Although it was something that not many people would fawn over, you were ecstatic to be home in town.

Leaving at the mere age of sixteen wasn’t easy. After your parents decided that you were too good for a mediocre high school where people cared more about their body count than grade count, they immediately sent you off to a prestigious boarding school in the big city. You were given three days to pack and say goodbye to your friends, the rest of your family, your world. As excited as you were to study in the evolutionary epicenter of technology, you didn’t like how you had almost no say in this decision.

You didn’t return home from high school even after four years of studying at that mentally draining institution. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to come back, you were just so accustomed to life in the big city that it seemed pointless to return to square one. With the rest of the world finally in your grip (or so you thought), you enrolled in a highly expensive university and received a full-ride scholarship.

Perhaps that was your breaking point. Piles of work that could never be cleared must’ve got to your head. No one out there seemed to care about your mental health and well-being. The only reason you were allowed to take a break from the university and return was because of your constant breakdowns that your lecturers called “distracting” and “unethical”. You were hoping that this drop-by in town would give you a physical and mental cleanse.

There was no place as hot as home, from where you had been. The blazing sun scorched onto the road. Carrying baggage by itself was already hard enough, but this heat was immensely torturing. You struggled to carry your belongings while trying to close the car boot at the same time. Oh, a pity. You had just returned home and you were slowly turning into a bundle of disorganization, unlike your previous methodical attitude.

“Need a hand?” A familiar suede voice behind your shoulder sounded like music to your ears as you dropped all of your luggage and turned back to see…

“Taehyun!” Child best friend number one. You were looking at a once-innocent boy with doe eyes who had matured into a fine young man. His hair was dyed platinum blonde and, although younger than you, possessed a flair that was completely unlike his past self. His facial features were more prominent than ever and you wondered if all of your friends had developed as well as he had.

You locked your arms around his neck and embraced him as he took your baggage from you.

“You’re so tall now!” You gasped in awe and looked him up and down.

“Of course I am! A boy has to grow, doesn’t he?”

Speak of the devil(s), four people tagged behind Taehyun, waiting for you to notice their presence. All of them were just as tall (if not taller) than your blonde friend and stood out like a sore thumb. It wasn’t just the height, their hair was also in very...exciting colors.

“Can’t believe you forgot about us just for Taehyun.” Ah, that nasal voice was so recognizable. Choi Yeonjun, second-best friend. You cherished him like he was your secret weapon, a power waiting to be unleashed into your industrial world. Although older than Taehyun, they seemed to be the same height now. You couldn’t tell because his new neon pink hair was waxed slick and puffy which made him look a teensy bit taller than his younger friend. You had seen him around on social media and he was a hair-changing chameleon.

Alongside Yeonjun was Hueningkai, better known as Kai in the friend group. He was the youngest one, constantly babied and spoiled, you could say. He was probably influenced by the rest of his friends too, his hair now in a mossy shade of blonde.

Poor Yeonjun, you completely disregarded his existence and dashed over to Kai instead, eagerly standing next to him to compare heights. The kid had grown so much, you couldn’t tell if you were contented that he was now taller than you or dejected that you had missed so much when you weren’t around.

“Hey, wait up!” Someone from behind called. With Hueningkai and Yeonjun blocking your view you couldn’t see who that one person walking next to Choi Beomgyu was.

Beomgyu, the last friend who joined the friend group. He was always a comedian and never failed to make your day. Although, he didn’t seem so smiley anymore. You figured that it was school stress and adulting getting the best of him. We all had those days; you regrettably knew them like you knew the back of your hand . Unlike the rest of his friends, Beomgyu’s hair was kept in a natural shade of ivory brown. He had never been swayed by the rest of the crowd.

There were so many things to do, so many people to see. You had missed out on most of your growing: having fun with friends, staying up late at night just to watch the stars, dancing on your balcony. You had missed the people too. The town felt different from when you had left it.

“Soobin! Don’t just stand behind, meet our friend! They just returned from the city, right?” Beomgyu ran over to you before giving you a little squeeze.

Who’s Soobin?

“Hey, I’m Choi Soobin. Twenty-one this year. I moved here a few years ago. You must have left before I showed up.” A simple and concise introduction from the blue-haired man. Maybe he was the root of this hair-dyeing trend in town (pun very much intended), as well as the height trend since he was just as tall, if not taller than the rest of the boys.

You briefly introduced yourself but that was about it. You didn’t know how to create small talk, nonetheless with someone completely unfamiliar to you.

Later that day, you wondered if he had replaced you, become another guardian in the friend group. As one of the oldest, you and Yeonjun were always known as the parents of your three “kids”, but Soobin seemed to take care of them equally well. Throughout the day, you watched his every action, how he helped Beomgyu with homework, how he styled Kai’s hair, how he treated Taehyun to his favorite meal, exactly like what you did when you were still around. For once, you felt like the outsider.

Marshmallow Night had always been a tradition here. It was a five-of-you kind of thing, well, the six-of-you now. It had always been the go-to celebration whenever one of you hit a milestone, or was just held for fun. The days of joy where the only thing you had to worry about was whether your smores were burnt.

It had changed a lot over the years, you guys would add some new events to it and remove the ones you guys outgrew, like hopscotch.

You had missed most of its evolution.

Instead of being the main catalyst for today’s event, you resorted to sitting at the side as Soobin took the lead, carrying tables back and forth as well as setting up the fire in a method that the five of you had never used.

Oh, how much you loathed him. You hated his innocent-looking face that spurred out words of authority and boastfulness. You couldn’t stand how he looked so obnoxious with his bright blue hair, his dark brown eyes that held an impeccable gleam. He looked so cheeky, so mean, and worst of all, he had made all of your friends convert to mini spawns of him. Even Yeonjun, the oldest member, no longer felt like the Choi Yeonjun you once knew.

If you could, you would throw him out of your hometown, except that you seemed to be the outsider here. Anyone who walked past would see five people sitting on a huge log, helping each other light marshmallows and biscuits. They would barely notice the one person hunched over on the other side, sitting on the ground, eyes dazed and uninterested.

Occasionally one of the boys would call out to you, either hand you a s’more or ask if you were alright, to which you responded, “I’m alright! Don’t worry about me, I’m having fun.”

Anyone could also see that you weren’t in the zone, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment and be a party pooper. You ended up spending most of the time scrolling on your phone, checking school emails, and such. It didn’t feel like you were back home, it felt like you were on a vacation, on your own.

The commotion had died down, for the most part. Everyone else was either discussing school gossip in hushed voices or making the most of use of their electronic device. You were tempted to join the little heated conversation that Soobin and Beomgyu were having, but you didn’t know who this ‘Chaeyeon’ girl was and either way, you wouldn’t want to voluntarily speak to Choi Soobin.

It wasn’t long before both of them went to do something else, the only sound prevalent being the wood crackling from the bonfire and the occasional chirp of evening birds.

It was a loud, sucked-in breath that drew the attention of everyone, eyes pinned onto the instigator.

Choi Soobin, once again disrupting the peace of this curated environment. He ducked his head in apology and you were about to return to your world when Kai’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Why did you just do that?” His booming voice resounded over everyone else.

You weren’t going to lie, you were curious too. It wasn’t every day you heard a gasp like that.

Soobin looked back up, eyes wide and awake. He was excited about something but seemed to be masking it for the sake of..suspense?

“Okay. You guys know Yongsam Park right?” He put his phone down and tapped his hands on his thighs in a state of urgency.

Now that statement got everyone’s attention. “It’s the flower place outside our town, everyone passes it when they enter. Of course we would know where the place is. Why are you so adamant about it?” Taehyun inquired.

“Well, have any of you gone inside the park? Or near the landmark in general?”

“No. Why would we? There’s nothing to do there than to take pictures of boring flower statues.” You stated.

“See. You guys don’t know anything about the place.” He smirked tilting his head upwards and proudly crossing his arms.

“Could you cut to the chase and tell us what it is already?” Thank Yeonjun for his smart, impatient mouth.

Soobin didn’t answer and merely flipped his phone so you could see whatever was on it. The only words you could make out were “Yongsam...missing...carnival” and something related to the park before he turned it back, away from your view.

“You can’t just say that we don’t know anything about this place then proceed to give us nothing about it.” You rolled your eyes, disinterested in the conversation once again.

“Fine. I’ll send it to you.” Soobin rolled his eyes back as four of the other boys snickered. They loved seeing the two of you bicker.

In courtesy of Beomgyu who gave Soobin your number (without your consent), you received a news article and skimmed through it with eager eyes:

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

YONGSAM PARK CURRENTLY UNDER INVESTIGATION, AUTHORITIES SAY 3 days ago

What’s the deal with Yongsam Park? Insiders say that, although bland and boring, Yongsam Park is currently under high-level investigation for the disappearance of a few citizens. The flower-decorated park is the perfect place to take Instagram-worthy pictures and is quite harmless in itself, so visitors were shocked to arrive at the park only to find it surrounded by heaps of yellow tape.

Yongsam Park was developed by Kim Yongsam, director of My Flowers, a multi-million florist franchise that has now spread to Japan and Taiwan. In a 2015 Interview with the millionaire, he mentioned that he had created the park in the inspiration of the rising ootd picture trend, also known as the outfit-of-the-day trend, which he had initially discovered from his teen daughter.

“I wanted to create a welcoming park for people of all ages, but I couldn’t find a suitable place to do it without the budget being drastically high. In the end, my team and I found an abandoned site and decided to build a simple structure with lower costs up there. Props to my team for the discovery of this landmark. The scenery there, especially in the evening, is stunning .” He stated in the 2015 interview with Soup Magazine.

What’s the abandoned site? With the evidence that is still standing, Yongsam Park is rumored to have previously been a carnival. Said evidence is a worn-down carousel in the back of the park, along with piles of other burnt carnival decoration and equipment. With research, Yongsam Park’s site may have once been an abandoned carnival that perished from an unknown wildfire. This may have been the primary cause of the drought that ensued in the 80s, leaving only a carousel and ashes behind. When questioned, Mr. Kim said that he had decided to leave the carousel standing behind the park due because he felt ‘drawn by its alluring glow’, as quoted.

Investigators and the local police have only enclosed the flower section of Yongsam Park because that was where the victims were spotted. They believe that disappearances took place there and are currently trying to find evidence to back up their stance. Most of this new information is not known to the public, however, Kim and his team are trying to keep it that way. The current disappearance count is seven people, the most recent case being two high-schoolers.

The carousel is still open and does not require a visitor ticket, but visitors are advised to take precautions and leave before the sun sets.

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

FAMILY OF TOURISTS DISAPPEAR AT YONGSAM PARK, INSIDERS SAY THIS IS THE SECOND CASE OF DISAPPEARANCE HERE 2 weeks ago

JAPANESE COUPLE DISAPPEAR AT FLOWER PARK, NETIZENS CALL THE NEWS A POLITICAL DISTRACTION 3 weeks ago

“Are you seriously...telling us...that we should visit a place where people have been kidnapped?” Yeonjun gawked. “Dude, that’s so stupid. What if we die or something?”

“Don’t say that! I was just curious if you guys wanted to go since it’s so near and since your old friend is back home.”

“It’s a dumb move. I’m not risking my life just so I can celebrate the return of my friend. Not worth it.” Beomgyu huffed.

“Hey! You’re worth it, right?” Soobin glanced at you, waiting for a response.

He was...defending you? His ulterior motives were questionable and you weren’t sure if he was protecting you because he cared about you (cue the puking) or solely because he wanted to go to Yongsam Park that bad.

You didn’t reply and chose to drown out the wailing and chaos that ensued with your friends. You clicked on a related article below, curious to learn more about this lesser-known part of the park.

[WHAT’S THE HYBE?]

TWO MORE BOYS HAVE DISAPPEARED AT THE NOW INFAMOUS YONGSAM PARK 5 days ago

Park Jongseong (20) and Nishimura Riki (15) mentioned to their friends that they would be heading to ‘a magical place’, before disappearing for around a week. They were last spotted walking through Yongsam Park, according to anonymous witnesses. This is the third case of disappearances at the park and both teens are the sixth and seventh people to go missing.

Both families reported their children missing just two days after their disappearance. With this case being the last straw, local authorities forcibly shut down Yongsam Park despite protests from staff and management.

Parents of the two minors refused to respond when called for an interview and HYBE reporters resorted to interviewing the victims’ friends instead.

“Jay’s never been a bad kid. Yeah, he might be late here and there, but he wouldn’t skip class or fly across the country for vacation during school. I just don’t understand why he’s not here with us. He wouldn’t voluntarily disappear.” Park Sunghoon (19), a friend and classmate of Jongseong (who is better known as Jay among his friends) said.

“Although I’m not close with Jay, I know Riki personally and I know for a fact that both of them wouldn’t run away like that. Why, Riki was gearing up for a dance competition that he’s been excited about all year, and now he’s just gone? Like that? Riki has always been like my little brother, and he’ll always be. I just want him back at my side.” A teary-eyed Lee Heeseung (20) says.

Netizens have been complaining about the lack of coverage on this issue.

“Maybe Mr. Kim spent all his money on covering this story up from the mainstream public. That’s why he had to build the stupid park on an abandoned sketchy site.” An anonymous netizen commented.

Regardless, we’ll be keeping our prayers for Jongseong and Riki, as well as the five other victims, to return home soon.

“...you guys are such wimps.” That was the first thing you heard Soobin say when you tuned in to the conversation again.

How dare he say that? How dare he have the courage to call you, someone who moved out on your own at 16 to live in the big, scary world, a..wimp?

“Look, Choi Soobin. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a wimp. I didn’t say that I wasn’t interested on this trip.” You stand up and blurt out without thinking twice.

The rest of the boys are gawking at you, their mouths open wide in awe and shock. Yes, you weren’t a wimp, that was for sure, but they had known you all their life as someone who could not stand going out into the wilderness. Maybe the big city had really changed you.

“At least someone wants to go! Perfect. We can leave tomorrow at noon, bring your camping stuff!” Soobin grabbed his things and began walking away.

“Camping?” The five of you exclaimed in unison.

Taehyun, the rational member, gasped. “I, personally, wouldn’t mind going to the carousel thing..or whatever it is, but I am not staying the night. Dude, are you nuts?” The rest of you nodded your heads in agreement.

“It says in the article that we are advised to leave before the sun sets.” You point out, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible in fear of breaking this mask of false confidence, when in reality, you were terrified of this place.

Soobin turned back and eyed you down disinterestedly. “Conclusion is that we’ll bring a small backpack, or whatever you guys want to pack, and we’ll stay there until eight. Deal?”

“Seven.” Hueningkai timidly said.

“Whatever you guys want.”

You hadn’t been able to sleep last night. It wasn’t due to fear of the place you were going, rather, you weren’t too excited about having to spend half of your day around Soobin.

What were you going to say to him? You were definitely overthinking at this point.

You know, they always say that the person one hates the most is the one that they also love most. And when Soobin flipped his blue hair back or cheekily smiled, showing his endearing dimples, you couldn’t help but…

No! You loathe Choi Soobin. You couldn’t stand his smile, or his hair, or his height. That evil moonwitch.

“Hey, you ready to go?” Speak of the devil (or moonwitch), you spotted a fluff of blue hair in your peripheral vision.

You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back at him, merely nodding your head while staring at the white wall.

“Why aren’t you looking at me? Are you...scared?” You could see him wiggle his eyebrows as he made that statement.

That was it. You turned back at him. “Yes I am. I’m absolute terrified. I can’t stand the fact that I have to forcibly spend my precious time around you. It’s like I’m about to voluntarily live a nightmare.”

Woah there, calm down. You had smoke spurting out of your ears at this point.

Soobin’s once excited face fell into one of disappointment. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare having to be around you too. Gosh, the immaturity.” He left the room in haste as your eyes shot lasers through his well-toned back.

Maybe you had gone too far with the insult. He hadn’t been mean to you at all, really.

Then again, he had been mean. He took your place when you weren’t around. Suddenly, you were determined to get it back.

“Hop on the magic school bus!”

“Shut up, Yeonjun.” You deadpanned before leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you were finally falling back into routine and you couldn’t help but bask in this nostalgia.

You also couldn’t help but notice how Soobin kept on looking through the rearview mirror at the both of you, pupils darting away once you locked eyes with him.

Man, this was going to be a long ride.

2021 © fluffi

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hualianff · 3 years

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Ice Skating AU

The road to the Olympics was quite lonely for figure skater XL. XL’s parents supported his dreams at the expense of his health and mental wellbeing. XL’s coach, JW, purposefully isolated XL from other competitors, which further distanced XL from the peers who were envious of his talent and achievements.

After the Olympics–XL winning silver, much to the public’s pride–he suffered from detrimental injuries as a result of being overworked and malnourished; JW had put him on a strict diet and training schedule that was ultimately unsustainable. It took over a year for XL to successfully settle a lawsuit with minimal media coverage and monetary consequences.

Three years have passed since he retired. XL currently owns his own rink, teaching kids and adult skating classes on the side.

When XL competed, everything was so stiff and uptight. It got to the point where he wasn’t enjoying it and came to resent the sport in the end. When XL teaches, however, he gets to laugh with his students. He happily lends them a hand when they need it (unlike JW, who was harsh and trained him as if he were a machine). He celebrates with a student every time they land an improving pirouette, relishes in the pure joy in their eyes.

That’s how ice skating should be. Challenging but always fun.

Now, XL truly loves the managing and teaching aspect of the new role ice skating plays in his life. Owning a rink also allows XL to occasionally indulge in his old skills and routines. With no pressure to perform for anybody but himself, XL is free.

HC, a film grad school student, is forced to take a skating class after losing a bet with HX. HX’s partner, who had come up with the consequence on HX’s behalf, suggested a place called Wings, claiming they are “just trying to promote a fellow friend’s business.”

HC almost didn’t follow through with the penalty. He already knew how to skate. (His natural ability to quickly pick up any athletic activity is envied by all his friends.) Upon seeing just who the teacher was, however, HC reconsidered.

After all, losing a bet is no joke.

HC attends the evening class. He wears tight-fitting jeans and a maroon, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. The film student asks for extra help on his form despite knowing there’s not much to fix.

Understandably, XL is a bit baffled how this one tall, handsome stranger keeps asking to be guided into the correct position and spotted while skating across the rink when it seems he’s capable of balancing on his own. But XL is in no way complaining! And if XL happens to stare directly at HC’s small yet perky ass as he skates behind the taller man in case HC crashes, no one has to know.

One week passes. Then another. And another.

One month later, HC keeps coming back for classes.

“San Lang, you don’t have to pay for any more classes. You already skate well enough on your own!” XL informed his newest regular with a knowing smile.

“But then I won’t get to see Gege as often,” HC insisted with that charismatic smirk of his. XL hoped his face didn’t give away how flustered he was on the inside.

“W-well, the rink is not very busy one hour till closing time. You could always come in to practice. And I can watch you from the side!” XL said, looking off to the side. “Free of charge,” he added.

HC tilted his head, pondering. “Hmm, that sounds lovely. You’ll skate with me too?”

“Haha, sure! If there’s no one else on the rink,” XL laughs.

HC nodded. “Fair enough. However, I will be paying the amount I owe Gege. You cannot convince me otherwise.”

“San Lang-“

“No exceptions, Gege!”

They’re so close, XL realized. HC leaned forward on the counter which is the only barrier separating them from touching chests. XL allowed himself a couple glances at the muscled pec straining against the fabric of HC’s shirt.

“Well, San Lang can pay me back in a different way, m-maybe?” the former Olympian suggested. HC quirked an elegant eyebrow. He really was too pretty for XL’s poor heart to handle.

“Oh? What does Gege have in mind?”

Ignoring how suggestive HC sounded just then, XL built up the courage to utter one word: “Dinner?”

Much to XL’s surprise, HC visibly malfunctions by choking on his own spit, as if he hadn’t expected XL to be so forward. HC clears his throat right after, sputtering a measly, “O-oh?” 😳

XL doesn’t say anything else. He stands motionless while waiting for the younger man’s answer. 🥺

Luckily, XL doesn’t have to wait more than ten seconds before HC composes himself, standing back and placing his palms on the counter, satisfied.

“Dinner is perfect.”

XL: 🥰

HC: 😇

Things only got better when HC came around. Suddenly, XL wasn’t alone every night he closed. HC diligently visited every night he could when school and work permitted. They skate together as promised, HC commenting how generous XL is for offering special “private lessons.” XL is positive HC makes these innuendos on purpose and selfishly hopes HC doesn’t say them to anyone else but XL.

Funnily enough, XL has made his own fair share of innuendos–though completely unintentional.

(XL while skating with HC: “You’re doing so well, San Lang. Go faster!”

HC, raising an eyebrow: “Gege likes things faster?”

XL: 😳😳 “EEEK, I mean the speed you’re going at. I-it’s too slow-“

HC: *nods* “Whatever Gege wishes.” *winks at XL before zooming away*

XL, chasing HC: “Wait, how are you moving so quickly!?”)

(HC falls ill on a Friday when he would normally visit the rink. With no meds and a killer headache, HC texts XL to cancel their lesson.

XL: “San Lang, do you need medicine? I’ll come for you”

HC: “Gege 😳😳😳”

XL: “TO***** My finger slipped 😅”

HC: “Gege is getting quite bold now, isn’t he?”

XL: “San Lang!”)

***

It all boils down to a game of tag that got a little too competitive. It’s HC’s turn to tag XL. They’re zipping around the rink like flashes of light, the sound of their laughter echoing throughout the open space. Where XL is elegant yet sharp as he evades his pursuer, HC is aggressive and heavy as his skates dig into the ice in his haste catch XL.

“Gege is too fast for this poor San Lang. It’s too unfair,” HC complains, though he has no reason to as he gains up on XL for the third time.

“Ahhh, no no noooo!” XL shrieks as he’s chased into a corner by a sneaky HC. In his attempt to turn around to escape, XL is crowded against the clear divider between the rink and the lounge space by a smirking HC. One last duck is countered by HC rushing forward to lightly secure his hands around XL’s waist.

XL’s breath quickens as HC slowly leans down, a certain tenderness behind his eye that makes XL positively melt inside.

“Caught you,” HC mutters, his long braid falling haphazardly down his right shoulder. XL shyly looks down, pinned by HC’s inquisitive stare. A large hand comes to gently grip his chin, lifting his head to meet HC’s face. “Do I get a reward?”

“What does San Lang desire?”

HC’s eye flickers down to XL’s lips. XL’s eyelids lower in understanding. And relief. Then, under some unknown source of confidence, XL lifts his chin invitingly.

“It's your reward to claim,” he whispers. HC’s face splits in shock before morphing into an awed expression. He cautiously nudges XL’s nose with his own, making XL instinctually smile.

“Gege has indeed become bolder,” HC utters.

He promptly seals their lips, which curiously meld together before separating. A tentative peck. XL is the one to slant their mouths together again, pulling HC down by the lapels of his jacket. They experiment as they press together, pull apart, then meet once more in delicious bliss.

XL hums as HC takes control of the pace. The taller man holds XL close, caressing his waist as they languidly make out against the divider. XL whimpers as HC cups his cheek lovingly. There’s a warm brush against the seam of XL’s mouth. He gladly parts his lips, welcoming the sensual slide of HC’s tongue inside. HC doesn’t let up, eagerly licking along every hollow and crevice of XL’s mouth.

When XL playfully nips at HC’s upper lip, HC firmly presses XL against the divide, grunting as he’s provoked. Another cheeky nibble has HC pulling away, raising a challenging eyebrow at XL. Using the diversion to his advantage, XL surges up to wrap his arms around HC’s shoulder, running the flat of his tongue over HC’s lower lip before coaxing him into another sweet kiss. HC smiles approvingly, allowing XL to lead.

HC gradually shifts their weight so he skates backward, guiding them around the rink as they unhurriedly explore each other’s mouths. The scuffling of their skates paired with the slick sounds of their kissing serves as their own music and rhythm. XL surrenders to HC’s movements by resting most of his weight against the taller man.

“I knew you knew how to skate this whole time,” XL murmurs against HC’s lips. HC chuckles as he traces XL’s cupid’s bow, then places a chaste kiss to XL’s cheek.

“Always so perceptive, gege.”

“Hmm, it’s hot,” XL says without thinking. HC smiles in amusement as he switches to skating in circles, gaze never leaving XL.

“What is?”

“You skate with the confidence of a pro,” XL answers. He steals another kiss to HC’s lips, eyes crinkling as he smiles happily.

“Good thing I had the best teacher.”

“Oh, stop it, San Lang-“

“Make me.”

XL puffs his cheeks out in faux annoyance. But he can’t hold back a beaming grin as HC mimics his expression, over-exaggerating the pout that makes him look like a child whose candy was snatched out of his hands.

“If you insist,” XL sighs. He gives no other warning as he pounces, winding his legs around HC’s waist. HC effortlessly catches XL by underneath his thighs, pliant as XL crashes their lips together, hungry for much more.

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #hualian #hualian au #cerdrabbles #modernau #fluff #figure skater xl #film student hc #first kiss

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yoongisleftearring · 3 years

Text

part twelve (written): different

Try-hard

pairing: tutor!namjoon x student!reader

warnings: slightly spicy

word count: 1378

->in which you are a college student, struggling to graduate. Namjoon comes at just the right time, you attempt to woo him but, he can’t think you’re a try-hard.

a/n: haha it's finally here and slightly longer than anything I've written before I think, because I have the concentration of a toddler even this was hard for me so I really have to take this time to appreciate the writers who do 10k+ words... anyway I hope you enjoy

====================================

When had the sun gone down? You didn't know, the last few hours had passed by quickly. The hours were filled with laughter and a rather sloppy twerking competition with your friends, Jimin coming out victorious in the end, much to the surprise of his friends. Everything was feeling a bit too warm, too sticky for your liking. You had been eyeing up the balcony the whole night, waiting for the perfect moment to slip away from your friends. With Yoongi busy trailing his hands down the body of a cute girl in a Catwoman costume and Jimin and Tae busy dancing with each other and their new friends-- who happened to be Namjoon's friends. Strangely enough, you hadn't seen the man in question all night, not that you had looked very hard, you wanted to, you really did, but you knew if he caught you he would think you're way too clingy. The only reason you were pretty confident the tall man was here was because you had stalked his friend's twitters.

You placed your hand on the metal of the handle, the cold metal already soothing you, before pushing the door open. You step out into the night and almost miss the presence of another person because your eyes are trained on the night sky and how bright the stars looked tonight. When you noticed the silhouette of the other person, you instantly recognized his figure. Slightly worrying that you recognize the man from his silhouette alone, no doubt a product of your internet stalking, you approach nonetheless, the man only noticing your presence when you lean against the railing beside him.

When he turns to face you, you almost gasp. The moonlight casts a light glow over his face and creates soft shadows along his features. No doubt in your mind that he looked absolutely beautiful at this moment. You can't help the soft smile that finds its way onto your lips at the sight of him. His eyes widen slightly in recognition of the familiar face in front of him.

"Oh, sorry. I'll go back in, leave you to yourself." He spoke quickly before moving to walk back inside. You grab his arm lightly and shake your head.

"There's no need to leave just because I'm here." You chuckle softly and he hesitates. He can't deny that there's something different about you today, the feeling that he got when he saw the reflection of the stars twinkle in your eyes is one that scared him. It was the costume that was making him feel weird, definitely the costume, a natural reaction to an attractive woman. If you noticed that internal battle of his, you didn't mention it. Just slipping into silence as he rested back against the railing. It surprised him, the comfortable silence. The silence was something he assumed would be too uncomfortable for your loud personality to bear. Maybe loud was too harsh of a word, maybe you were just different than him. As much as he tried to deny any enjoyment when it came to you, it was now beginning to get hard to lie to himself that what he found annoying and obnoxious in the beginning had slowly grown on him. He didn't even know how or when it happened, he guessed it was too gradual to notice. It was only now, for some reason that he could accept it, he could accept that he had grown to accept their differences, he actually began to appreciate them. He had never met anyone like you before, and in a way, he was thankful for that.

In reality, the silence was eating away at you, your resolve was slowly crumbling but you needed to seem detached in front of Namjoon before you further destroyed any chance of the man seeing you in any sort of positive light. You knew he probably enjoyed the silence between you two, he's just that type of person, but you couldn't.

"I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable that day by asking you out," You began, snapping him from his thoughts to focus on you. "I know you were just helping me, I don't know what I thought." The man blinked in surprise, he definitely was not expecting to get an apology from you tonight.

"I already said it was fine. Definitely surprising," He said with a small chuckle, his reaction surprised you, you really thought he would still have held this against you. "-but brave." His words caused a groan to sound from you.

"Brave? Look where being brave got me. It was so embarrassing," You pouted and Namjoon laughed in response, his dimples appearing deeper in the faint light. "Did you know Jin saw the whole thing? So that's basically your whole friend group that witnessed the most embarrassing moment of my life."

"He never mentioned it to me," Namjoon shook his head, a wide smile still visible on his face. "You're so dramatic." You gasped in offense at the man's words, vehemently denying his claim when you both knew how true it was. You had spent a lot of time with Namjoon but this felt completely different, it felt as though you were talking to a different person. He seemed a lot more carefree now, he wasn't constantly thinking about what he does and what he says, that's probably how he didn't even realize how close he had gotten to you over the course of your time on the balcony. Now he was close enough he could smell your perfume, and because he was taller than you he found his eyes easily slipping down to look at how the red silk dress you were wearing hugged your chest, how with your hair that short, he could see the whole area of your neck and shoulders. His eyes lingered on the fluffy red straps of your dress and how easily he could pull them down to explore you further.

You noticed his staring now, how could you not? It's like he wasn't even trying to conceal the look of lust that overtook his features as he looked at you. Part of you thought that it was too good to be true, no way the man of your dreams was looking at you the way a wild animal stalking its prey would. The other part of you though, couldn't let the opportunity pass, so you didn't.

You leaned closer to him, your bodies almost touching now and you lifted your hand to rest on his bicep. He visibly shivered at the action and moved his gaze to your lips, coated in a glossy red. He couldn't help himself, and you definitely weren't objecting when he slowly moved forward, eyes focused on their target. You were getting impatient and decided to take the lead instead, your lips met and the moment they did, you became intoxicated by the taste of his lips. The man held your face with one hand as he moved to press you against the railing of the balcony, his other hand slipping down to explore the curve of your waist. You couldn't help but let out a moan at the feeling of his body pressed tightly against yours as he kneaded the soft flesh of your ass, and he couldn't help but think of how adorable the sound was and he craved to hear it again. The sound of your name being called and a quiet gasp awoke you from your daze, your lips broke away from Namjoon's as you peered over his shoulder to see what the source of the noise was. Or rather, who. You couldn't help but feel like a teenager who had gotten caught by their parents as you looked into the shocked eyes of Min Yoongi. You immediately let go of Namjoon as if that would make Yoongi forget what he had just seen. You stared wide-eyed at the pale man before he finally spoke. "Tae threw up, we're bringing him home." You were confused by the underlying feeling of guilt you felt as your best friend walked away, as well as confusion as to why he was acting so pissed off, probably because of the sickly Taehyung that would probably end up throwing up in his freshly valeted car.

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pickalilywrites · 3 years

Note

Can you please write a gabi x falco fic where gabi is slightly taller than falco (2-3 inches)? And she just finds various ways to tease him for this making him embarrassed. Maybe also have her carry him bridal style in the fic somewhere. I think it would be really cute, funny and wholesome! Thanks for considering my request! And aot shall be missed the end of an era.

Have a great day and God bless! All the best and take care! Happy writing! :))

thank you for asking for this ^^ it was fun to write. it took me a little while but i hope you enjoy it~

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

Taller Than You

Falbi. Canonverse.

8098 words.

Read on Ao3!

Falco can accept being beaten. He’s never been the strongest person or the fastest or the smartest. In all honesty, he’s quite average and while it’s frustrating to never place first or even within the top three of his class, he’s come to accept that some things are beyond his control. Yes, he can work hard and hope to someday surpass his peers and graduate at the top of his class, but he has to work twice as hard because he lacks the natural talent that others were lucky enough to be born with. It’s frustrating sometimes, but that’s just the way it is and Falco is fine with it for the most part.

It’s admittedly a little less easy for Falco to accept his inadequacy as a warrior candidate when Gabi flaunts all of her accomplishments in front of him. She’s accumulated so many badges over the years, little medals made out of cheap metal that were already rusting when they were given to her that she still proudly pins to the front of her shirts, that Falco has lost count of just how many she has.

Really, Falco knows it’s his own fault that his list of accomplishments pales in comparison to Gabi. He’s not as strong and hardworking as she is. If he’s average compared to his other classmates, then he’s completely inferior next to Gabi. He never says anything when Gabi brags about how she’s beaten the record for shooting practice, the previous record which had also belonged to her as well, or when she manages to receive a compliment from one of the most hard-to-impress instructors during a military drill course. He just bites his lip and suffers through Gabi shoving all of her accomplishments in his face. It’s what he deserves for being such a pathetic warrior-in-training.

Gabi really deserves to let her accomplishments be known anyway, Falco knows, and he does like to listen to her list every single one of her achievements. He likes the way her eyes light up when she talks about whatever record she broke, how her chest puffs up, and how she bristles with pride. It’s only right that Gabi be so proud of herself. She’s a Warrior through and through, a person destined to wield a Titan, and undeniably the worthiest candidate in their class.

It should, then, only be inevitable that Gabi surpasses Falco in the only thing that he thought he could beat her at: height. There had been warning signs. For years, Falco and Gabi had been around the same height with Falco always a centimeter or two taller than Gabi, but lately it seems like Gabi has caught up.

The last few months, Gabi was always the exact same height as Falco. Falco would always hold his breath during his physical exam. Whenever his height was taken, he’d stand to his full height, raising his head unconsciously as if that would somehow give him an extra centimeter or two only to have the nurse taking his height to smack him on the head and tell him to stand properly. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Gabi had finally surpassed his height by a centimeter. After all, she had already managed to beat him at everything else, but Falco couldn’t stand for it.

“You can’t be taller than me,” Falco says, hating how high-pitched and whiny his voice sounds. He bites his lip and turns to the nurse that had just finished measuring Gabi and his eyes flit back to his friend. “It’s impossible.”

“Denial is the first step to acceptance,” Gabi says as she cheerfully pats Falco on the shoulder. She’s elated, not even trying to hide the smug grin on her face. “Although, you should just accept it. I’ve beaten you at nearly everything else, so shouldn’t this be easy to accept?”

It should be, but it’s not. Over the past months, Falco had dreaded the idea of Gabi growing taller than him. He refused to believe it could ever happen. He could never beat her at anything except her height, and he clung to that worthless achievement fiercely even as it became apparent that Gabi was hitting her growth spurt much faster than him. Falco finds the reality of Gabi being taller than him is actually much worse than just imagining it. It’s humiliating to be beaten at something he thought he had, but he realizes too late that Gabi’s height is beyond his control and he can only stand there in disbelief as she stands there, chin lifted proudly as she subtly flaunts her extra centimeter in front of him.

“Measure me again, please,” Falco practically begs as he tugs on the nurse’s sleeve.

The nurse eyes him tiredly and shakes his head. “Can’t you see I have to do the rest of your classmates?” he asks, gesturing to the line of kids who are still waiting to be measured. “It’s a centimeter difference. You’ll outgrow her in no time.”

That’s not soon enough, Falco wants to say, but he doesn’t want to sound like a brat so he bites his lip from saying any more. When he turns around, Gabi is giggling behind him with her smug expression still pasted on her face. If she smiles any wider, her face might crack.

He tries to keep his head held high even though all he wants to do right now is throw a fit over something as pathetic as a centimeter height difference.

“You heard him,” Falco says. His voice is still that strange high pitch that makes him cringe inwardly. He should probably shut up now before he makes himself look more like a fool, but he can’t help it. If he doesn’t say something now, it’ll be like admitting defeat. “I’ll grow taller than you soon. Just wait.”

The smirk on her face is infuriating. “Sure,” Gabi says, but it’s clear from the tone of her voice that she doesn’t believe him. “We’ll see.”

But much to Falco’s horror, he doesn’t grow taller than Gabi. His height seems to stagnate despite the fact that he’s eating more than usual. He doesn’t get any heavier either, which just makes it twice as frustrating. It’s as if the food he eats just disappears once it enters his mouth. What’s the point of eating, Falco wonders, if it doesn’t help him grow at all?

Gabi doesn’t seem to have that problem at all. She continues to grow. It’s effortless like everything else she does. First, it’s that one centimeter height difference. Then it’s a few millimeters more, the added height so small that it would be negligible if it were anyone else aside from Gabi. Suddenly, it’s a whole centimeter and a half, then two centimeters, and finally two and a half.

“How are you growing so much!” Falco asks, looking at Gabi in disbelief. He can’t understand how she continues to grow while his own height remains stunted. His parents had assured him that his growth spurt would come soon, but he’s almost certain they’re lying to him because the difference between him and Gabi keeps growing. “This is impossible.”

To the nurse who’s busy taking measurements, Falco says, “Measure me again.”

The nurse doesn’t even look at Falco when he responds. “I’m busy,” he replies. He’s given Falco that response consistently for the past six months. It makes Falco want to tear his hair out. “I don’t see why you’re worried about it all the time anyway. You’ll grow soon enough.”

Falco is about to open his mouth and argue with the nurse when Zofia and Udo drag him away.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Falco,” Zofia chides as she rubs Falco’s shoulder reassuringly. She sits him down at his desk where she begins to pat his head like one would do if they were comforting an upset child. “Girls usually get their growth spurt before guys anyway, so it’s only normal that Gabi’s taller than you right now. I’m getting pretty tall too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m even taller than Udo.”

“Please don’t rub it in my face,” Udo says with a pained expression. He pulls out a chair and sits across from Falco, giving his friend a sympathetic smile. “She’s right, though, and so is the nurse. You start growing a lot soon. Me, too.”

“I want to grow taller now, “ Falco grumbles. He buries his head in his arms and sighs. Voice muffled, he asks, “What do I have to do to grow a couple centimeters taller?”

“Well, you could do some stretches,” Zofia suggests. She jumps back in surprise when Falco sits up and leans toward her.

“What stretches?” he asks. He scoots up to the edge of his seat, attentive.

“Oh, they’re just … they’re supposed to make you taller. I’ve only been doing them for a few months, but I’ve grown quite a bit in that time,” Zofia explains awkwardly. She looks around as if unsure if it would be appropriate to demonstrate in the classroom. Nobody is paying attention to them though. The rest of their classmates are either busy talking to each other or getting their height and weight measured and their instructor has left the nurse in charge of the class.

Udo purses his lips. “Why haven’t you taught me about these stretches?” he asks with a frown.

“You never asked,” Zofia replies, and Udo scowls at her.

“Well, what are they?” Falco asks a little impatiently. He stands up, ready to follow along with and memorize whatever instruction Zofia gives him.

“One of them goes like this,” Zofia begins and starts to demonstrate.

They’re easy stretches. Many of them are exactly like the ones that they do before they warm up for their physical training: stretching their arms above their head, twisting their torso back and forth, touching their toes, etc. Some are a little more unfamiliar to Falco: stretching your calves as you push against a wall, stretching your forearms and wrists, and hanging against a doorframe or a wall to stretch your shoulder and back muscles.

The key, Zofia explains while the boys do it half-heartedly, is to stretch enough to feel it in their muscles. If they don’t, then they’re doing it wrong. They also need to make sure to hold the stretches for an appropriate amount of time. It’s fine if they do it a little bit longer, Zofia tells them, but they absolutely need to make sure they hold each position for the minimum amount of time.

“And then you’ll grow taller in no time!” Zofia assures them cheerfully.

It’s working. At least Falco thinks it is, although he probably shouldn’t be so optimistic. It’s only been a few seconds after all, but he’s pretty sure he can feel his limbs lengthening as he stretches out his muscles. He’s stretching his arms when a question pops into his head that he hadn’t thought to ask before.

“Where did you learn about this anyway?” he asks Zofia.

It’s suspicious when Zofia doesn’t answer him right away. She avoids his eyes for a moment, looking up at the ceiling while she decides if she should respond. He gets a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as Zofia rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet and she nibbles on her bottom lip. It makes him want to take back his question immediately, tell Zofia that he doesn’t care about who taught these stretching exercises to her anymore, but it’s too late. Zofia is already opening her mouth to answer.

“Gabi,” Zofia answers quietly, but her reply seems to fill the whole room.

Behind them, a horrible cackle begins and Falco turns around, horrified, and sees that Gabi has appeared as if the mere mention of her name had been enough to summon her out of thin air.

“Doing stretches?” Gabi asks with the smuggest smile on her lips. It makes Falco want to scream. She does a few stretches too, stretching her arms above her head, but she does it lazily. It’s almost like she’s mocking Falco. “That’s a good idea, Falco. Maybe you’ll be able to catch up to me someday.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Falco snaps, but Gabi just laughs and he can feel blush bloom across his cheeks. He scowls at her and says, “Those stretches probably don’t work. I don’t need them to grow taller than you anyhow.”

He means it, he really does. He isn’t planning on doing any of the stretches. Even if he does grow taller than Gabi, he knows she’ll comment on how well her stretches worked with that same smug smile on her face. Still, he finds himself absentmindedly doing them when he gets home, figuring that it can’t hurt to try.

»»————-　★　————-««

Gabi always finds new ways to annoy Falco with her height. It seems she’s not satisfied with bringing it up during every physical evaluation. She has to rub her few extra centimeters of height in his face every chance she gets even if it’s in the most mundane of situations.

Sometimes the way she flaunts her height is horribly blatant. It’s in the snide comments she throws casually at him, asking him what the weather is like down there or apologizing for not hearing what he just said because it’s so hard to hear him from her height. It’s not even as if he’s that much shorter than her. There are plenty of other people in their class that are a lot shorter than Gabi, but she only ever directs her height-related comments towards him.

“Are you done?” Falco asks as Gabi pretends to check their heights again.

She’s standing right next to him, her chin lifted slightly as she compares heights with him. Her hand goes from the top of her head and shifts over just a few centimeters over Falco. He swears she’s exaggerating their height difference because her hand is angled when she moves her hand above his head, giving her a few imaginary centimeters over him.

“Just checking,” Gabi says cheerfully to him. She gives him a grin and leans toward him. He knows whatever it is she has to say next will make him want to stick his head out the door and scream at the top of his lungs. “Falco, do you want to know if you’ve grown any taller?”

“No,” Falco says almost immediately.

Gabi ignores him. “Well, you haven’t,” she says happily. She walks in circles around him, practically skipping. In a sing-song voice, she continues, “I’m still taller than you, much taller than you. You’ll never catch up now.”

Falco grits his teeth and balls his hands into fists.

Gabi is still talking. “It’s okay, though. I’m tall enough for the both of us.” She’s wandering towards the cabinets now. Falco is all too familiar with what’s about to happen next. He knows all of Gabi’s methods to incite his short-man syndrome. She throws open the cabinet doors and looks back at Falco with a dazzling grin. “I can help you with so many things. Do you want anything from the cabinet? I can reach it for you.”

“No,” Falco says, but he knows Gabi isn’t listening to him.

She’s humming as she scans the contents of the cabinet. It’s full of different school supplies, most of them already used before because they’re second-hand from the Marleyan schools. Her mouth shapes itself into a perfect O-shape as she sees something that catches her eye. Falco is about to roll his eyes until he sees what Gabi is reaching for.

Normally, Gabi reaches for things that are just within reach. Sometimes she even gets things from shelves that Falco can easily reach himself. Not this time. This time, she’s reaching for the shelf near the top where the worn-out textbooks are. It’s not something she can reach without standing on her tiptoes and really stretching really far.

With just a glance at this situation — Gabi and her bull-headed stubbornness, the cabinet with its rickety shelves, and the textbooks that are so worn-out that they could disintegrate with a touch — Falco knows that it’s a recipe for disaster. If there were even a chance of stopping Gabi, Falco would step in and try to convince her to stop, but he knows any effort to do so would be futile. He should walk away and let her reap the consequences herself, but he doesn’t. Against his better judgement, he remains and begins to hover behind Gabi.

“Gabi, you really don’t have to,” he says worriedly. His hands flutter pathetically behind Gabi, reaching out to catch her in case she falls.

“Don’t worry. At my height, this isn’t anything difficult,” Gabi says with a toss of her head even though she’s having difficulty. The shelf is so tall that she can’t really see what she’s doing. She has to grasp blindly for a textbook and her smile grows wider when she finally manages to grab hold of one. “Got it!”

As soon as she pulls it from out of its shelf, she stumbles back and loses her balance. Rather than allowing Falco to catch her, Gabi flails about trying to grab onto something, anything, to keep herself from falling. Her hand grasps onto one of the shelves and for a moment Falco thinks everything will be fine. Gabi is suspended there, hanging onto the shelf with one hand while an old, musty textbook is dangling in the other. A beat passes and then two and then a horrible crack is heard.

It happens in slow motion. Gabi’s weight is too much for the shelf and it slips out of the cabinet, coming away with her hand as she falls onto Falco and nearly crushes him. The already unstable cabinet begins to crumble. The top shelf goes first, falling away, and the textbooks that it held drop onto the other shelves which all collapse in turn. The entire cabinet falls apart, its contents spilling on the floor, and Falco winces when he hears Instructor Andreas bellow their names.

“Braun! Grice! What the hell did you two do?” The instructor’s shout can be heard clearly in the tiny schoolhouse and every student immediately freezes at the sound of his voice. It’s never a good thing when an instructor raises their voice, especially Instructor Andreas.

“J-just … getting some textbooks, s-sir,” Falco stammers. Gabi is still on top of him, her weight crushing his lungs, and he shoves her off, jabbing her in the ribs to signal her to apologize before they get into even more trouble.

Gabi grunts and sits up in a more respectable position. She brushes off some dust from her school uniform and at least has the sense to look apologetic as she looks at their teacher. “Sorry, sir,” Gabi mumbles and Falco repeats a clumsy apology beside her. “I should have been more careful.”

“You stupid Eldians can’t help destroying every damn thing you touch, can you?” Instructor Andreas snaps. He spits on the floor in disgust. It’s enough to make everyone nearby flinch. He looks up at the two troublemakers with a scathing glare and jerks his head towards the open door. “Go out there and finish a full circuit. Don’t come back until you do.”

Falco’s shoulders begin to slump. A full circuit is nearly an hour of drills that is sure to leave him sore when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He wants to complain, but he knows one word will just result in a heavier punishment. He should just do it and get it over with now.

He’s about to get up and offer Gabi a hand, but he sees she’s already standing and offering him a hand up. Falco hesitates, but he takes it and lets Gabi pull him up. He knows she’s going to say something about it once they leave the schoolhouse and get out of earshot of Instructor Andreas, but right now he just wants to get out of here as soon as possible even if it means he’ll have to put up with more of Gabi’s short jokes later.

As soon as they step out of the wooden cabin and onto the schoolyard it begins.

“No need to thank me for helping you up,” Gabi whispers to him. She’s so close to him that he can feel her breath hot against his ear. “It’s probably difficult for you to stand up on your own with those short legs of yours.”

Falco scowls at her and gets started on the full circuit before Instructor Andreas can stick his head out of the schoolhouse and yell at them for fooling around.

It’s an hour of grueling physical exertion. The first time he had ever done the circuit, he was ten years old and a new recruit for the Warrior-trainee program. He thought he would die five minutes in. The first part was running around the field, which would normally be bearable except for the fact that the schoolyard is filled with little bumps and holes everywhere. Although he’s learned the best footing when running around the field, his calves still burn as soon as he makes it a half a kilometer. He’s hardly improved from the first time he had run through the circuit.

Gabi catches up to him quite easily even though he’s had a head start. Unlike Falco, she doesn’t break a sweat. She’s practically smiling as she passes by him. It doesn’t surprise Falco. What most people find difficult, Gabi can do easily as if it were as simple as taking a breath.

By the time Falco’s finished running around the field twice, Gabi is already starting on the drills that accompany the circuit: push-ups, curl-ups, pull-ups, any exercise that will ensure that they won’t be able to move a single muscle tomorrow morning. She’s a little red in the face now, her hair falling out of its usual bun and sticking to the sweat on her forehead, but she’s not as out-of-breath as Falco. Somehow, she’s still smiling.

“I hope you know,” Falco huffs as he nearly collapses doing his first push-up., “that this is all your fault.”

“Nonsense,” Gabi says easily. He’s not sure how she’s able to form words so easily. She doesn’t seem winded at all. “I had everything out of control.”

“You broke the cabinet!”

“I got the textbook,” she replies contentedly as if this is all that matters. “Something you could never do on your own due to your lack of height.” She gets out of her push-up position and sits down on her haunches so that she’s looking down on Falco. With an impish grin, she reaches out to give Falco a condescending pat on the head. It’s just a light touch, but it’s enough to send Falco face-first into the ground.

Falco raises his head and splutters, spitting out the dirt that had gotten in his mouth. “I didn’t even need that textbook!” he coughs.

He regrets shouting as soon as the words leave his mouth. His raised voice attracts the attention of Instructor Andreas, who pokes his head out the door and sees Falco collapsed on the ground and Gabi taunting him.

“Braun! Grice!” the instructor growls. His harsh tone makes Falco flinch, but Gabi simply turns her head. “I thought I told you two to complete a full circuit, not play around.”

The two give him a weak apology that the man only scowls at.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save your energy,” the man snarls. He pounds the doorframe twice and then points at the field that Gabi and Falco had just finished running around. “Start over. Do the circuit properly or else I’ll make sure you’ll be running laps around the field until nightfall.”

Immediately, the two get up and jog towards the field. Falco’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out halfway, but there’s no point in complaining about it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Gabi as they make their way to the field.

She glances at him, unbothered. “No worries,” Gabi says. She’s being uncharacteristically understanding, even jogging at the same pace as him. The two jog together in tandem for a few beats and Gabi speaks again. “Since you’re so short, it makes sense that you’d be short-tempered, too.”

Falco growls and speeds ahead, but he can still hear Gabi cackling behind him.

»»————-　★　————-««

Falco sits at the dining table shoveling as much food in his mouth as humanly possible. He’s not even taking time to savor the food. If he did, he’d probably notice that stuffing bread and mashed potatoes and carrots and chicken in his mouth all at once is a disgusting mishmash of flavors.

“Falco,” his mother says exasperatedly as he shoves an entire boiled egg into his mouth. “Can you at least chew your food?”

“No,” Falco garbles through the food in his mouth. A few crumbs fly from his mouth and onto the table. Falco doesn’t hesitate to wipe it away hastily with a napkin and wastes no time in shoveling yet another spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

His mother only sighs. She gave up hope on managing her son’s eating habits long ago.

Doing stretches doesn’t seem to be working for Falco, so he has started a new strategy to grow taller: eating his family out of house and home. At first he thought it would be fine if he just took in as much dairy as possible. He’s heard it said that calcium is what makes a person grow, but he became impatient when he didn’t see results the next day and just decided to eat everything he could shove in his mouth. Has it made his eating experience much less enjoyable? Absolutely, but it’ll be worth it if he can grow a couple of more inches and finally overtake Gabi in height.

“What’s happening here?” a familiar voice says. Falco lifts his head to see his older brother Colt walk over with a puzzled look on his face.

It’s been a while since Falco has actually seen his brother at home. After being chosen as the successor of the Beast Titan, Colt had been put on a more intensive training regimen that often started early in the morning before the Grice family was even awake and ended late into the night when everyone had long gone to bed. The only time Falco ever really sees his brother is on the training field with other soldiers when their training schedules coincidentally align. Falco thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Colt at home during the day since he was named Commander Zeke’s successor.

“He’s eating everything in the house,” their mother grumbles because Falco’s mouth is full of food and can’t speak right now. “The rest of us will starve at this rate.”

“That’s fine. Training really makes you hungry,” Colt hums. He shrugs his bag off his shoulder and lets it fall to the floor with a thud. He grabs an empty plate and cutlery from the cabinet and joins his family at the table. Colt is about to help himself to some dinner but he takes a glance at Falco’s plate, which is filled with a mountain of food. He raises an eyebrow. “I know you’re at that age where you eat a ton but isn’t this … a bit much?”

Falco swallows the food in his mouth and it slides slowly down his throat. He’s afraid it gets stuck halfway and begins to cough. He pounds at his chest with one hand and reaches for his glass of water on the table with the other, nearly knocking it over because he isn’t looking. Falco nearly has to down the entire glass before the lump of food is able to slide down his throat.

“Please chew,” his mother practically begs.

Falco ignores her. “I have to … eat more,” he pants. He’s beginning to taste the food on his tongue now, and it tastes terrible. It’s too sweet and too salty and there’s a weird film on his tongue. He gulps down more water before shoveling more food in his mouth.

Colt raises his eyebrows again. Since he hasn’t been able to speak to his family for a while, he’s missed out on quite a lot, including Falco’s current problem with Gabi and his height. His mother is kind enough to fill Colt in.

“He’s convinced that eating more will help him grow taller,” their mother tells Colt. She sits with her back against her chair and her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes never leave Falco as she speaks. “There’s a girl that’s taller than him.”

Colt watches Falco, his head tilted to the side. “Isn’t it normal for the boys to be shorter than the girls at this age?” he asks. He thinks for a moment as he tries to recall what it was to be Falco’s age only a few years ago. “I think I was shorter than most of the girls in my class when I was your age, too.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Mrs. Grice says. She gives Falco a withering look, but her son is too busy eating to notice. “He’ll catch up to them in no time at all. Eating everything in sight won’t necessarily make you grow any taller, Falco. Just eat normally and you’ll get your growth spurt before you know it.”

Colt continues to observe his little brother. He rests his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand. “Are you really upset that the girls are taller? I’m sure the other guys in your class have already accepted it.” His fingers tap against the table as he thinks. After a moment, he stops and sits up with a suspicious expression. “Unless you’re upset because it’s not because it’s the girls but because of one girl in particular.”

Falco stops eating to glare at Colt. He means for his glare to look menacing, but he probably just looks ridiculous with his cheeks full of food like an overstuffed chipmunk.

The corners of Colt’s mouth quirk upward in a grin. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Colt says. He looks far too amused by this. “Is it … Gabi? It’s Gabi, isn’t it?”

“No,” Falco says with a mouthful of food. He manages not to spit out of any of it, but he kind of wishes he spit his food into his brother’s face. Colt looks as if he’s about to laugh about this whole thing, which only infuriates Falco more. How is any of this funny?

“How much taller than you is she?” Colt asks. He leans over the table with that same smile on his face, the one that says he finds all of this hilarious. “1 cm? 2 cm? 3?”

“She’s not,” Falco lies, but his voice comes out in a whine and he knows his face is scrunching up in a childish way. He wishes Colt hadn’t come home. “She’s not taller than me!”

“Okay, okay,” Colt chides. He starts to pile food onto his own plate and gestures for his mom to eat as well, probably deciding that it’ll be useless to talk to Falco about this topic any further.

The three eat together in relative peace — Falco still trying to eat everything in front of him without swallowing, his mother eating and occasionally rolling her eyes whenever she catches a glimpse of her younger son, and Colt eating normally as if this is a normal family meal. After a moment, Colt takes a brussel sprout from his plate and onto Falco’s. Falco doesn’t think much of it at first but then Colt drops another one onto Falco’s plate, then another one, and then another one.

Falco stops eating for a moment and looks at his brother. “What are you doing?” he asks after swallowing.

Colt stops what he’s doing and looks at his younger brother in surprise. “Me?” he asks as if he wasn’t sure Falco had been speaking to him. “I’m helping you, of course. Helping you grow taller.” He gestures at the brussel sprouts with his fork and then at Falco.

Falco wrinkles his nose. “With brussel sprouts?” It’s one of the few foods he’s been trying to avoid. While his plan is to eat everything, he does have his limits and brussel sprouts are one of them. He can’t stand them. They look like tiny little cabbages, but taste so much worse, their bitter taste lingering on Falco’s tongue long after he’s swallowed. He tries not to eat them as much as he can.

“Yeah,” Colt says. He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know? They’re chock-full of all sorts of nutrients: calcium, vitamin D, magnesium, and the like. It’s supposed to help with bone growth. Helps you grow taller. Didn’t they tell you that in school?”

Across the table, Colt’s mother mouths, “Really?” Falco doesn’t notice when Colt answers with a subtle shake of the head.

Falco looks sullenly at the little pile of brussel sprouts sitting in his pile of mashed potatoes. He pushes them around idly with his fork. “They didn’t mention it in my class,” he mumbles.

Colt shrugs. “You guys probably haven’t gotten into the diet and health unit yet. They really emphasize it in the Warrior Trainee program, especially once you get chosen as a Warrior.”

Falco looks suspiciously at his brother and then at the brussel sprouts on his plate. “Really?” he asks.

“Really,” Colt says. He seems sincere, and Falco doesn’t know why his older brother would lie to him. It’s true that Colt would know what foods to eat now that he’s a Warrior. He would know what foods are good for growth and keeping up someone’s strength.

Reluctantly, Falco spears a brussel sprout with his fork and nibbles at it. He shudders when the weird metallic taste hits his tongue. With a grimace, he puts the whole thing in his mouth, gives it a few good chews, and then swallows it down. It feels like slime moving down his throat. He has to finish the rest of his water just to rinse the taste out of his mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” he shudders, but he spears two more brussel sprouts onto his fork and eats them. It’s just as bad this time as it was before. He’s not sure how he’s going to finish the rest of these brussel sprouts without puking. He screws up his face as he takes another bite of the foul vegetable. “‘This is the worst!”

“Eat up, brother,” Colt hums, loading Falco’s plate with even more servings of the offensive food.

Their mother waves her hand to get Colt’s attention and gestures at the salted anchovies. “These, too,” she says. “Colt, make sure your brother eats these. Weren’t you telling me the other day that they were a good source of calcium?”

“Anchovies?” Colt says with a furrowed brow. Then, as if he’s just remembering, he nods and makes a noise in understanding. He begins to shovel the fish onto Falco’s plate right next to the brussel sprouts. “Ah, right. They mentioned it was a superfood, something that helps you grow taller overnight.”

“Really?” Falco wants to cry. He hates anchovies even more than brussel sprouts. They’re always too salty and too fishy, the taste overwhelming both his nose and his taste buds. He thinks he really is going to puke. He nearly cries as he lifts a spoonful of the little fish into his mouth and his entire body shudders when the salty taste hits his tongue. He’s practically sobbing as he goes for another spoonful.

After a few more horrible swallows of brussel sprouts and anchovies, Falco notices his mother and brother snickering behind their palms. His eating slows and he puts his spoon down.

“These … really aren’t superfoods, are they?” he asks flatly. He already knows the answer even before Colt nods his head. If Falco’s stomach didn’t feel as if it were about to burst right now, he would be flipping the table over in frustration. Instead, he just lets out an exasperated shriek and storms upstairs to his room.

“Where are you going, Falco?” Colt asks after him.

“You haven’t finished eating yet!” his mother calls.

Falco slams his bedroom door behind him in response.

»»————-　★　————-««

Falco should have figured that Gabi would soon grow tired of teasing him and that she would naturally progress to the next best thing: completely humiliating him in front of as many people as possible.

She still stands only a few centimeters taller than him, but the brunette acts as if she towers above him like a giant. Whenever they’re standing beside each other, Gabi looks down at him, lifting her head and standing as straight as she can without standing on her tiptoes. She stares her nose at him, that smug grin on her face each time. Falco always rolls his eyes and does his best to ignore him, but he finds it more and more grating each time.

Gabi constantly uses him as an armrest, letting her elbow settle on his shoulder or, if he happens to be sitting down, on the top of his head. More than once, he’s scowled at her before waving her away, but it only seems to amuse her even more because she always laughs whenever he does. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him. The additional weight of Gabi’s elbow isn’t much, but it’s the meaning behind the leaning that bothers him so much. It’s only slightly better to just allow her to use him as a piece of furniture, but not by much. He tries his best not to grumble about it each time because it only makes her grin grow wider.

What’s the absolute worst, though, is when Gabi pats him on the head. She does it so condescendingly with the sweetest smile on her face. Her touch is light, affectionate, and utterly humiliating. He’s waved her away once or twice, but she always finds a reason to put her hand on top of his head: because he has something in his hair, because his hair’s a mess, because his hair is so soft. It doesn’t matter how well-meaning her reason seems. Falco knows her real motive: to remind him of just how short he is by infantilizing him in whatever way she can.

“Oh, Falco,” Gabi says in a sing-song voice. She’s already looking at the top of his head, her hand reaching out to touch his hair. Her fingertips brush against his golden blond locks. “You have something in your hair-”

“No, I don’t!” Falco says, whacking her hand away. He regrets it immediately because now Gabi is standing over him, her hands behind her back and her lips curled in an amused grin.

“How would you know that?” Gabi says. She steps closer to him, hand still clasped behind her. “You can’t see the top of your head, can you? But I can easily because I’m-”

Falco doesn’t let her finish. He’s already heard it too many times before. “Whatever is in my hair, I’d rather it just … be there,” he says firmly.

Gabi stops smiling for a second and then blinks once. Twice. Her mouth spreads into a wide grin once again. “Aren’t you funny?” she coos. She reaches out to pinch Falco’s cheek. It doesn’t hurt, but Falco can feel his cheeks turning red just from her touch. “You don’t care if your hair’s a mess? Or is it really because … you hate how small this makes you feel?” Her hand finds its way to the top of Falco’s head, patting Falco like he’s a dog.

“So, you admit you’re doing this to humiliate me?” Falco asks. It comes out less indignant and more embarrassed, Falco’s cheeks still flushed in humiliation.

“Oh, please,” Gabi smiles. “I can do much worse.”

Falco should have run. He should have turned on his heel and taken off as far as his feet would take him. He knows that look on Gabi’s face, that knowing smirk and that mischievous glimmer in her eye, and he knows that whatever is to come next is absolutely no good. For whatever reason, he stays rooted to the spot even as his eyes widen in horror as Gabi reaches for him, her arms enveloping him right before she sweeps him right off his feet.

“What are you doing?” Falco yelps. He’s jostled around in Gabi’s arms, his chin bumping against her shoulder and then her head as she tries to find a comfortable place to hold him. Somehow, his arms find a way around Gabi’s neck as he hangs on for dear life. “W-what are you doing?”

“You must be so grumpy being so close to the ground all day,” Gabi says breezily. She’s carrying him like a bride and swinging him around like he weighs nothing. “The air is probably stuffy down there. Isn’t it nice being up this high?”

Falco is about to retort that the height she’s carrying him at right now is much shorter than his actual height, but he doesn’t get to because Gabi begins to spin around. He has to hang onto her for dear life because he’s afraid she might drop him. By the time Gabi’s stopped, his head is still spinning and he thinks he can see stars even though the sun is still out.

She lets him down gently, but Falco is still swaying as he stands. He holds his hand to his head as he begins to get his bearings. With a wince, he glances over at Gabi.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles.

Gabi smiles at him. She rests her elbow on his shoulder and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her grin grows wider. “Very,” she replies.

»»————-　★　————-««

He can’t believe it. Falco really can’t believe it. He’s finally growing taller, but it’s still not enough to beat Gabi. It’s just enough to decrease the gap between them. It’s a one centimeter difference. One measly centimeter, but somehow it bothers Falco more than when Gabi had been two centimeters taller than him.

“Can you just …?” Falco says, stepping nervously behind the nurse who’s already getting ready to measure the next person in line. He glances away when the nurse glares at him, but tugs on the man’s sleeve anyway. “I mean … it’ll only take a second. Are you sure I’m not, like, maybe a centimeter taller than you measured? You were measuring me pretty quickly …”

“Kid,” the nurse says, turning to Falco with a sigh. The person waiting in line looks mildly annoyed at the holdup. “How many times do we have to go through this? You know the rules. I measure you once, and you go.”

“Yeah, but-”

The nurse shakes his head and waves his ruler, gesturing for Falco to leave. “I have work to do.” The man sees Falco’s downcast expression and sighs. “If you’re really bothered just … get shoes with taller soles or something. That’ll do until you finally hit your growth spurt.”

Falco walks away, his shoes dragging against the hardwood floor. “As if I have the money to get new shoes,” he mutters. He stops when he sees someone in front of him. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Gabi standing in front of him looking as smug as ever.

“Hi, Falco,” she chirps.

“It’s one centimeter,” he tells her. He’s glowering, but Gabi doesn’t even flinch.

“It sure is,” Gabi grins.

“It’s one centimeter!” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s following her as she’s happily skipping away from him, probably to inform all their friends and classmates that she’s still taller than him. He just wants it to be clear: it’s only a one centimeter difference. “It’s not that much taller than me!”

He hates the way she stops and spins around, the way she stands so self-satisfied, the way she smiles at him with her shit-eating grin.

“It’s still one centimeter taller than you,” Gabi says.

Falco hates that the most.

»»————-　★　————-««

When it finally happens, Falco’s not as happy as he thought he would be. In fact, he’s not happy at all. Instead of celebrating the fact that he’s now half a centimeter taller than Gabi, he’s hovering nervously behind the nurse once more.

“Just one more time please!” he begs, tugging on the back of the man’s shirt. He doesn’t even flinch when the nurse swats him away like a mildly annoying gnat. “Are you sure I’m not even a little bit taller? Maybe like … a half-centimeter taller or even a whole centimeter taller than what you just said?”

“You’re as tall as I say you are the first time and not any taller,” the nurse replies. He turns his head to glare at Falco and wags the ruler in front of the boy’s face. “Stop begging me for remeasurements. I’ll start shaving off a centimeter from your height every time you ask.”

“Sorry!” he squeaks before scurrying off to sulk behind Udo.

Udo watches Falco amusedly as the blond shuffles around and mumbles unintelligibly under his breath. “I don’t see why you’re so bothered,” he tells Falco. “You’re finally taller than Gabi, so what’s the big deal?”

“It’s not enough,” Falco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his golden locks irritatedly. “I’m finally taller than her, and she isn’t bothered at all! Just look at her!” He points a finger where Gabi is happily conversing with Zofia. Either she hasn’t heard the news or she doesn’t care. Considering the fact that she hardly even flinched when Falco crowed his new height measurement at the top of his lungs to the class, it’s most definitely the latter. Falco just doesn’t know why.

“... Maybe she just doesn’t know?” Udo guesses with a weak shrug of his shoulders.

Falco shakes his head. “No, she definitely knows.” He’s not so sure anymore. “R-right?”

Again, Udo shrugs.

If Gabi doesn’t know, then Falco needs to make sure she does. Maybe she hadn’t heard him the first time. Maybe she was too busy talking to Zofia to pay attention, Falco thinks as he marches over to where Zofia and Gabi are. Udo follows for moral support, but he sighs as he does because he knows Falco will never be satisfied with the outcome.

Only Zofia turns around when he reaches them. Gabi continues to speak to Zofia, not noticing that her other friends have joined them. It’s only when Falco clears his throat that Gabi stops speaking and looks over at him, eyebrows raised just the slightest bit like she’s feigning surprise.

“Oh, Falco,” she says, smiling delightedly. “Have you been there long?”

“I’m taller than you now,” Falco says, not even bothering to answer her question. He puffs out his chest as he says this, straightening his back to assert his newly achieved half-centimeter height difference over her. “I’m half a centimeter taller than you, in case you haven’t heard.”

To his surprise, Gabi’s smile doesn’t falter. On the contrary, it grows even wider, much to Falco’s horror. “So I’ve heard,” Gabi says. “Congrats, Falco. Good job on surpassing my height by half a centimeter. I’m really happy for you.”

“You … you are?” Falco deflates. His shoulders are slumped in disappointment. If Gabi were to stand up next to him right now, their height difference would be negligible. He had expected her to be infuriated that he had finally beaten her at something. It’s surprising that she hardly cares at all.

“Of course,” Gabi says with a shrug. She stands up, but she doesn’t straighten her back or even try to stand on her tiptoes. She just stands there, half a centimeter shorter than Falco but she carries herself so confidently that she might as well dwarf him. “Enjoy it while you can, Falco. I’ll catch up to you soon.”

He can only stare in open-mouthed disbelief as Gabi all but swaggers out of the classroom. “H-how?” he asks, running after her.

Gabi shrugs as if she hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s like she really doesn’t care at all.

Udo and Zofia have followed Falco and stand behind him as he clings onto the door frame with a frustrated hand.

“She could probably grow on sheer willpower alone,” Zofia says as she pats Falco’s shoulder sympathetically.

“Probably,” Udo agrees.

Falco sighs, leaning against the doorframe. He should just give up now. He could grow a full meter taller than Gabi, but he’d still never catch up to her. Never, he thinks with a smile.

#falbi #snk #canonverse #falco grice #gabi braun #requests #asks #answered #hikoseijuroxiii

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bangtan-madi · 3 years

Text

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.

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seasonsofeverlark · 4 years

Text

Sweater Weather

Author: @eiramrelyat

Prompt: Back to school Everlark, and Katniss keeps stealing Peeta’s sweater. [submitted by @do-you-wanna-sugarcube]

Rating: T

Author’s note: Also, I’d like to thank @jroseley for being a wonderful proofreader. Enjoy!

___________

“Okay, son, do you remember what we talked about?”

He thought about dad’s speech about making friends after dinner last night. “Yeah, I remember.”

Peeta fidgeted with the zipper on his sweater, refusing to make eye contact with his dad. They stood at the end of their drive, waiting for the school bus to break through the horizon.

Dad placed a hand on his shoulder, prompting Peeta to look up at him. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t listen to your brothers. Middle school isn’t as scary as they made it out to be, and you’ll be able to see Delly.”

“Is that Peet’s girlfriend?” Rye came up behind him, mussing up Peeta’s neatly combed hair. He stopped near the mailbox, shooting his younger brother a smirk.

“Rye, stop teasing your brother,” Dad scolded. “And don’t forget that you’re still grounded this week for sneaking out with Johanna.”

It was Peeta’s turn to smirk, and he watched as Rye’s face grew a shade of red.

The school bus pulled up a few minutes later, Rye being the first to bound up the steps. Peeta’s heart raced. His hands grew clammy, and he couldn’t help himself from noticing the eyes peering at him through the foggy windows.

Dad gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Don’t forget to walk to the bakery after school, okay?” his dad reminded him. He glanced up at his dad one last time, giving him a shaky smile and bobbing his head before he walked toward the bus. “Have a good first day!”

He avoided the annoyed look the driver gave him as he climbed the few steps onto the bus, claiming an empty seat he found near the front. Dad waved at him as they drove off, but Peeta slumped in his seat, hiding his warm ears beneath the hood of his sweater.

The bus drove down six blocks before coming to a stop in front of a small yellow house. A girl ran down the sidewalk to avoid the sprinklers spraying the lawn. By the time she reached the bus, her braids were dripping puddles of water onto her green shirt.

She took the seat across from him, clutching the straps of her backpack while she shivered.

Peeta didn’t think twice before taking off his sweater, then reached across the aisle to give it to her. She glanced down at it, then up at him, a frown turning her mouth. At first, he said nothing; her grey eyes stopping his mouth from working correctly. Then she started scooting away from him, and he blushed furiously.

“Uh, you looked cold,” he muttered sheepishly.

She studied him for a moment, then she surprised him and took the sweater out of his hand. She quickly put it on, zipping it up and burrowing her hands in the pockets. Peeta felt so proud of himself at that moment.

“Thank you,” she said, offering him a small smile that he returned. “My name is Katniss.”

“Mine is-uh, mine’s Peeta.” Katniss giggled as he fumbled over his words; his heart raced from the sound.

The bus pulled into the student drop off, cutting their conversation short, and she disappeared amongst the other students filing off the bus. Peeta was the last one off, aside from the high schoolers that didn’t get off at this stop.

“Have a nice day, Peet!” Rye shouted from one of the back windows. Peeta was too busy looking for his Capitol City baseball sweater in the crowd to acknowledge his brother.

But he couldn’t find her.

During lunch, he searched again for the girl with pigtails. He spotted her sitting by herself near the back of the cafeteria, and he started walking toward her until a tall eighth-grade boy took the seat aside her. The older boy squashed what inconsiderable amount of courage he had, so Peeta turned around to sit with Delly and a few of her friends.

Delly enthusiastically introduced him to her new friends. “Peeta, this is Thom and Bristel.”

By the end of the day, he’d given up. However, as he walked out of the school, Katniss accidentally bumped into him and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Peeta.” Again, his heart raced. Then she ran toward the bus, the hood of his sweater bouncing against the top of her backpack.

Peeta walked all the way to the bakery with a smile on his face, despite the cold.

When he stepped into the bakery, dad took immediate notice of his missing sweater. “Son, where’s your sweater? It’s cold outside; you’re going to get sick.” But Peeta didn’t care, hiding his smile as he walked towards dad’s office.

He never got his sweater back after that day.

~~~~~

“Peet, hurry up! We’re going to be late!” Rye yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Peeta threw the rest of his baseball gear into his duffel bag and slipped his sweater over his head. Then he slung the bag over his shoulder and ran downstairs, taking two steps at a time until he safely reached the bottom. In the kitchen, dad slid a bag of bagels across the island counter for him and Rye.

“I can’t believe this will be your last first day of middle school,” dad said as he grabbed two orange juice boxes from the fridge. He grabbed them once dad placed them on the counter. “All of my boys are growing up.”

“It’ll be okay, dad.”

Rye emerged from the garage door; eyes narrowed in Peeta’s direction. “Yeah, he’s growing up, but he’ll always be your little boy. Now can we go before Jo kills me for making her late?”

Peeta’s face flushed, and he snatched the bag of bagels from the counter. “Shut up, Rye.” He brushed past his brother as he walked into the garage, tugging open the passenger door to Rye’s jalopy.

“Peeta, don’t forget your backpack!”

They picked up Jo on the way to the middle school, and Peeta grumbled when she pushed him to take the back seat, stating that she always takes shotgun. He complained about it but switched seats. Once they started moving, she shifted in her seat to grin at him, tapping the bill of his baseball cap. “Wow, what happened to my shy Peeta over the summer?”

Peeta rolled his eyes, ignoring her.

“Come on, Jo, don’t antagonize him,” Rye told her.

Jo snorted and turned to face forward again. “You two are no longer any fun in the morning.”

Sometimes, he didn’t like Jo, mostly because Rye was enough to deal with. Not to mention he couldn’t figure out the relationship she had with his brother. Once, he’d caught them kissing on the couch in the living room when dad wasn’t home, but the pair never behaved like a couple outside of that moment. Jo always talked about other boys, and Rye just seemed to listen. Eventually, Peeta shrugged it off, feeling like it was none of his business.

Yet, this didn’t stop Delly from asking questions.

“Maybe Rye is too scared to tell Jo that he likes her,” Delly said as they stopped in front of their lockers.

“I don’t talk to Rye about this kind of stuff, and I’m not going to snoop around his personal life.” Peeta opened his locker and stuffed his duffel bag inside, expecting she’d get the hint he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

She sighed dramatically. “Well, I think they’re idiots.”

“Yeah,” he answered after he closed his locker. “They are idiots. Now, let’s go to class. I can’t be late. I have Coin first hour.” Coin was the science teacher, and it wasn’t uncommon for her to mark you tardy if you weren’t in your seat by the bell.

Delly walked with him to class, stopping first to peek inside the room to see if she recognized anyone. She reminded him of where they were sitting for lunch. Then she continued down the hallway towards the band room.

At lunch, Peeta listened to Thom talk about his summer at the beach, which turned out to be less interesting than he expected. In between stories, Peeta discreetly glanced around the lunchroom to see if he could find Katniss.

They never talked, except for a few times since he let her borrow his sweater on the bus in sixth grade. Their circle of friends didn’t exactly overlap. Peeta joined sports, and Katniss hung out with the quiet type. But every time he had the opportunity to talk to her, his determination would rapidly dwindle, and he’d flee before she caught him staring.

“Oh no, here comes, Glimmer,” Delly whispered. All three of them look in the direction of the cafeteria doors where Glimmer stood, a devious look on her face. “I overheard my mom say that her parents went through a bitter divorce over the summer.”

“I know she’s terrible, but I feel bad for her,” Bristel said, before turning to continue picking at her food. Peeta almost felt bad, too, if he hadn’t witnessed Glimmer pick on Delly since the third grade. He knew she didn’t need a reason to find joy in mistreating others.

Delly shrugged. “I feel bad for whoever gets stuck in her path this year.”

Unfortunately, the person subjected to Glimmer’s wrath was none other than Katniss.

She was coming from the food line, not noticing Glimmer until the taller girl purposefully bumped her elbow against Katniss’s tray. The contents spilled all over Katniss’s shirt, and then the tray clattered to the floor. She stiffened, all eyes in the room on her, weighing her reaction.

Glimmer feigned surprise. “Oops, I didn’t see you there.” She snickered when Katniss left her tray on the floor and rushed out of the cafeteria.

Peeta stood up, suddenly, and his friends regarded him with concern. “Uh, I’m going to head to the bathroom, Del. I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his sweatshirt from the chair beside him, trailing after Katniss.

He didn’t need to search long until he found Katniss sitting on the floor near the janitor’s closet. Her head rested on her knees, shoulders shaking with quiet emotion. Peeta realized that he didn’t know what to do. He’d only ever seen Delly cry; the difference was that she didn’t care when he saw it happen. Katniss might…

“Katniss?” he asked, moving closer with hesitation. Her head shot up, surprise rounding her watery eyes. “Are you okay?” She shook her head, sniffling into her milk covered sleeve. Peeta extended his sweatshirt out to her. “I-I thought you’d need this.”

For a moment, she seemed like she couldn’t decide whether to take it from him. Then she grabbed the sweatshirt out of his grasp, looking away from him. “You can’t fix everything, Peeta. Just… I want to be alone.”

His stomach plummeted… But he understood. “I- okay. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, then he turned and walked away.

Later that day, he found a note in his locker that said:

Thank you. - K

He smiled at the small piece of paper, staring at it longer than he meant to before Delly peaked over his shoulder to read it too. And that’s how his best friend found out he had a crush on the quiet girl with the braid.

~~~~~

“Peeta, don’t forget, Rye is picking you up after school today.”

Peeta nodded, refraining from looking over at his brother, who ate his breakfast quietly. He’d been arguing with Jo over the phone last night. Peeta had heard Rye’s sharp voice through the wall, asking Jo if she would be his girlfriend. But Peeta guessed Jo rejected Rye, or else he wouldn’t be sulking on the other end of the table.

“Mmm.” He was glad he had a mouthful of cereal; otherwise, he’s sure he’d say something stupid. Like, bring up Jo.

Delly’s car horn blared outside their house around seven, and Peeta couldn’t rush out the door fast enough. He slid into the passenger seat of Delly’s small Beetle, making sure not to smack his head against the side of the car.

“Hey, thanks for the ride, Del. You really don’t mind that you’ll be hanging out at school an hour early?” he asked after he buckled in.

She shook her head, her bouncy ponytail bobbing atop her head. “I’ll probably hang out in the band room until the first-period bell rings.” Delly glanced over at him, and she must have noticed the panicked expression on his face because she smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, eyes on the road. I’m still getting the hang of this.” Peeta swallowed, his hand firmly gripping the handle on his door. “You look rough this morning. Do you want to talk about it?”

He picked at a small hole in his baseball pants. “Not really, but I imagine you’ll continue to ask otherwise.” Delly reached across the console to pinch his arm, making him laugh. “It’s not really my story to tell, but Rye asked Jo out.”

She gasped, almost glancing over until she stopped herself. “And that’s why you look like crap?”

Peeta snorted. “Wow, thanks… She said no, and then they pursued arguing about it for a few hours over the phone last night.”

“Weird. I always thought she liked him back.”

“Maybe you’re not as good a matchmaker as you think,” he joked.

“I doubt that…” Then she giggled. “Can you believe that we’re finally high schoolers? My mom wouldn’t stop giving me the talk last week.”

His ears grew hot, and he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, yeah?”

Delly nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t think she’ll need to worry about any of that. Nobody likes a band geek.”

“Come on, Del. That’s not true; you’re pretty.” He meant it, but he thought his compliment sounded indifferent. Though Delly smiled, pink staining her cheeks.

“Thank you, Peeta.” They turned into the school parking lot a few moments later, and she grabbed his duffel bag for him as he struggled to step out of her small car. “I’ll see you at lunch, and say hi to Katniss for me,” she said with a smirk.

He rolled his eyes as they walked their separate ways.

Delly pestered him about talking to Katniss ever since he’d told her she hung out in the stands during practice. What she didn’t know was that Katniss wasn’t there to watch him. At tryouts, he’d found out that the tall eighth-grade boy who once sat with her during lunch was now the captain of the high school baseball team. Gale Hawthorne.

He didn’t care for him. Peeta thought him obnoxious, and often, it would get the entire team in trouble during practice. Today he said something inappropriate in front of Coach Abernathy, which earned them laps.

“Mellark, collect the bats,” the coach demanded before pulling open the doors to the locker room.

After collecting all the bats, Peeta remained the last one on the field. And he realized Katniss had moved from her spot in the stands to the dugout. She had her hair down today, dark tresses falling in smooth waves over her shoulders, the sun bringing out shades of red. For the first time, he could refer to someone as beautiful.

Peeta walked up to the dugout to place the bats in the bin that Abernathy kept there. When he turned back around, Katniss had hopped up onto the thick railing and her feet dangled against the paneling as she popped a lollipop into her mouth. Peeta felt warmth spread down his neck.

“Hey, Peeta,” she said, offering him a soft quirk of her mouth.

Had her lips always been that pink? He swallowed hard. “Hi, Katniss. Uh, how was your summer?”

She pushed her hair out of her face. “It was good. How was yours?”

“Good.” His first shot at having an actual conversation with her, and he was blowing it… Katniss tasted the red candy again, and he had to focus on something other than her mouth to stop his blood from moving in a southward direction. He chose to look at her sweater, and Peeta felt his heart, which had been leaping, drop sharply. She was wearing his sweater. “Nice sweater,” he said without thinking about what he was saying.

A pretty blush washed over her face, but she held his gaze. “I never properly thanked you last year, did I?”

He rubbed the back of his neck to steal himself. “I- It’s okay. You don’t need to thank me. Plus, you look better in that sweater than I ever did.”

Katniss blinked at him, and he quickly realized that he made a mistake.

“Katniss! Let’s go,” he heard Gale calling from the other side of the dugout.

She slipped down from the railing. But before she left, Katniss quickly leaned up and pressed her soft lips against his cheek. When she pulled away, she bit her lip, then she turned and left him staring after her in a daze.

He never saw Katniss at practice again after that.

~~~~~

It was the week of homecoming. Peeta didn’t care for it normally, but now that he’s a senior, this homecoming felt bittersweet. Though, he hated the number of ribbons the cheer team tacked to athlete’s lockers. He ended up ripping the bows off his locker to reach the lock, before tossing them inside.

“Hey, Peeta.” The voice startled him, making him jump. He closed his locker to find Madge Undersee on the other side of the door.

Madge was captain of the cheer team- probably the second most animated person he’d met, aside from Delly. But ever since Thom dared them to kiss during a game of truth or dare from the summer, she started showing up everywhere. First, it was the bakery. Now randomly after some of his classes… Or at his locker. Not that he didn’t like Madge- he did. It’s just… he liked someone else.

“Uh, hey, Madge.”

She looked at the door of his locker, then. “What happened to your corsage?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. She’d caught him. “It fell off,” he lied.

“Oh,” Madge tucked a loose blonde hair behind her ear. “Well, I can fix it later for you if you want.”

Thankfully, the bell for their first period rang, saving him. “I should go to class- ”

Her face cheered up. “Great, I’ll join you.” Apparently, luck wasn’t on his side.

At lunch, he got into an argument with Thom about his stupid game of truth or dare. “I thought you liked her?”

“When did I ever say that?” Peeta asked incredulously.

Thom raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to. Your actions spoke loud enough.”

“We were talking about your party in front of her. I was being nice when I invited her,” he bit out, feeling annoyed. “I’m tired of you and Delly always playing matchmaker.”

He fiercely bit into his apple, slumping in his seat. Then Delly came up to the lunch table, and he nearly choked on his mouthful of apple. There, next to her, stood none other than Katniss. She looked every ounce of uncomfortable when their table looked over at them. Delly, on the other hand, shot Peeta a mischievous smile. He recognized that smile. She had a scheme up her sleeve.

“Hey guys, this is Katniss. She’s going to sit with us today.” Nobody seemed bothered, nor did Delly give them any room to object. She grabbed Katniss’s shirtsleeve and pulled them down to Peeta’s side of the table, claiming the two empty chairs across from him. “Peeta, Thom, have you met Katniss?”

He froze when Katniss’s grey eyes landed on him, stopping all speech. But Thom spoke up first. “Yeah, weren’t you Hawthorne’s girlfriend?”

A deep blush spread across her face, and as he waited for her answer, Peeta held his breath. “Uh, no. We were- are childhood friends. But you’re not the first to ask.” Suddenly, he felt like an idiot. How did he never think of the possibility that she and Gale were only friends? Scratch that- he’s a huge idiot.

“So, Katniss,” Delly grabbed her attention. “Are you going to the homecoming game tonight? Thom’s playing, but you can sit with Peeta and me.”

Katniss sent a shy glance his way. “Yeah, okay.”

They all met at the grandstands around seven, Delly growing very obvious in her intentions when she suggested he sit next to Katniss.

“Uh, Delly, Katniss can sit wherever she wants,” he said nervously.

Though, Katniss shrugged and took the seat right beside him. She smiled up at him. “It’s okay. Here is fine.”

During the game, he could hardly concentrate. All he could think about was how close her thigh was to his. Or how she’d occasionally brush him with her elbow. He found out she has a twinkling laugh, one that made you smile from the sound. She also preferred yellow Starbursts, offering him and Delly the flavors she didn’t like.

It’s the most he’s learned about her, and this was only through observation.

Three minutes until the end of the last quarter, he noticed Katniss began shivering. “Are you cold?” he asked.

She shook her head, even though her nose had turned red over the course of the game. “No.”

“Here.” He took off his sweater and held it out for her. “I’m warm, anyway.”

For the first time, she took the sweater without hesitation and snuggled into it once it was on. “Thank you.” Over her head, Delly winked at him.

He ignored her and smiled down at Katniss. Did she always have freckles?

The moment shattered, though, by a voice he hadn’t expected.

“Hey, there you are!” Madge leaned against the railing on the stairs, before coming to wedge herself between him and Katniss. “Did you enjoy the game?”

He rubbed the back of his neck because he had been too preoccupied to pay attention to the game. “Uh, yeah. Another win.”

She smiled. “Oh! Since it’s our last homecoming, we want to get a picture of our athletes together for the yearbook.” Then she finally acknowledged Katniss and Delly. “If your friends don’t mind. It’ll be quick!”

Peeta wanted to sigh in irritation but didn’t want to seem like a jerk, so he nodded. He looked back at Delly and Katniss. “I’ll be right back, okay?” Delly frowned at him, giving him her “what the hell” look. But Madge had already grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the field.

Between different poses to fit everyone into the picture, and a few who were uncooperative, the pictures turned out to take longer than he expected. So, when he looked back up at the stands for Katniss and Delly, they were gone.

His shoulders sagged. His heart sank. Another chance lost.

~~~~~

He moved to Capitol State to study teaching. He could have moved out of state to play baseball, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to take that step yet. Plus, the Capitol was enough of a shock for him. He always thought Panem to be big for the longest time, but it didn’t compare to the dancing lights of a city this size.

There were a few of his classmates he recognized around campus, and some he even had classes with. He caught up with people he hadn’t talked to since the beginning of their senior year. He still kept in touch with Delly, who went to Panem University for music- she practically demanded it of him.

“Oh, I can come to visit you this weekend,” she squealed through the phone, excited about coming to see the city.

“Yeah, that’d be great. There’s this place here that I think you’d like.” He stepped into the coffee shop on campus, the smell of coffee beans warming him. He placed his order while he listened to Delly gossip, and when he turned around, he accidentally bumped into the next person waiting in line.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” he stopped when he recognized who it was. “Uh, Delly, I’ll call you back.”

“Wait-”

He tucked his phone into his back pocket. “Katniss, how are you?”

Peeta saw the shock register on her face before a smile played on her lips. “I’m doing great. How are you?”

“I, uh, I’m going to school for teaching.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m actually heading to my next class in Main.”

“I’ll walk with you. My next class is that way.”

Was he still breathing? He took a deep breath. “Okay, sure.”

They wait for their orders before walking back into the cool fall air. He discovered that Katniss was studying nursing. He also learned that her mom was a nurse, and that she had a younger sister named Prim. Her father worked in a coal mining business; his career path slowly affecting his lungs.

He’d spent all these years with missed opportunities, that when they reached his stop, he wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

“Wait, Katniss,” he called after her as she walked away. She stopped, turning back toward him. “Uh, do you maybe want to grab dinner tomorrow? I can pick you up around eight.” Part of him feared that she’d say no, or choose that moment to announce that she had a boyfriend.

Yet, a smile split across her face, and she nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Later that night, when he called Delly, he found out that his meeting Katniss at the coffee shop wasn’t a coincidence. And for once, he was glad that his best friend stepped in to play matchmaker.

~~~~~

He stood in front of the closet mirror, fidgeting with his tie for the third time that morning.

“Do you need help with that?”

Peeta looked over at Katniss, who watched him in the doorway- a slight twinkle in her eye. The sunlight peeked through the window behind her, creating a natural halo. She was beautiful, he thought. Without waiting for his answer, she walked up to him, undoing his messy attempt with nimble fingers. When she fixed the knot, she looked up at him and gave him a small smile.

“Are you still in shock about Rye and Jo’s baby announcement?” Her voice was teasing as she smoothed her fingers over the end of his tie.

The announcement had caught him off guard. He’d known that they were dating, but he didn’t think things were serious between the couple. However, Rye and Jo seemed equally excited about the news, and he couldn’t be anything other than happy for them.

“No,” he answered finally, “it’s not that.”

Katniss’s expression softened, and she reached up to kiss his chin.“Don’t worry about today. I know you’ll be great. That guy at work doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think I’m worried about a bunch of eighth-graders turning into little gremlins.”

“I suppose, but I remember a lot of these gremlins- figuratively speaking.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him. That’s when he realized what she was wearing. “You have a knack for stealing my sweaters, don’t you?” he asked.

Her mouth perked playfully. “You got them back, eventually, but I remember you telling me I looked good in your sweaters.”

“Did I now?”

She poked his ribs. “You might have been too preoccupied with the candy to remember.” Of course, he remembered. It was the first time he’d felt her lips against his skin. That very memory played in his fantasies for years.

“I was a teenage boy. What do you expect?”

Katniss gave a musical peal of laughter, the sound filling their small closet. Then she reached up, touching her lips to his.

They kissed, slow and soft. The world fading away around them. Peeta wanted to have mornings like this with her for the rest of his life. He pictured Katniss’s stomach steadily rounding with their child, children running around their feet. They’d have her dark hair and silvery eyes.

He wanted this with her.

If she’d have him, he was going to marry her.

#everlark fanfiction #autumn 2020 #submission #prompt #everlark #autumn #by eiramrelyat

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fratboyivy · 3 years

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How You Get the Girl Hiccstrid one-shot

A loud crash woke him up in a panic as he frantically looked around the room to find the source of the noise. “Toothless, what are you doing half out the window?” The dragon turned back to him with an excited look on his face as he looked back and forth between outside the window and Hiccup, obviously wanting Hiccup to look outside. He rolled his eyes and slowly stood up from his chair, trying to stretch the cramps out of his leg. “I really gotta stop falling asleep at my desk,” he mumbled to himself as he walked over towards the window. He peered outside but saw nothing. “What am I supposed to be looking at here, bud?” he asked the dragon who was still looking overly excited. He looked around outside a bit more, and was about to go back to sleep when he saw a figure not far from where he was. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to make out who it was, when he finally recognized who it was, “Astrid!”

He landed quietly near her, trying not to startle her, but Toothless had other plans. He bounded over to Stormfly, causing Astrid to gasp and whip out her knives, though she almost immediately recognized him. “Toothless? What are you doing out here,” she then realized that wherever Toothless is, most likely Hiccup is there too. She turned around and saw him nervously standing there. “Hiccup? what are you doing?”

“Well,- I uh- I- I mean not me I didn’t like- go looking for you or something uh- Toothless got all excited cause he saw Stormfly and ended up knocking a candle off the windowsill, which woke me up and brought me over to the window where I saw you and uh now here I am,” he smiled that awkward sideways smile he always did when he was nervous, which seemed to be frequent around Astrid. She loved it, but fought back a smile and said, “so you came out here to...?”

“Oh I just uh I guess I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean I saw you standing in front of your destroyed childhood house and I just wanted to see if you needed a friend…” he trailed off. She stared at him for a few moments, and fearing he’d done something wrong, he started to say, “I mean I can go back, when I say it out loud it sounds stupid, you probably just want to be alone right now.” He started to motion for Toothless to come, but she grabbed his hands and stopped him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to go. A friend wouldn’t be so bad right now,” she let go of his hands and he brought them back down to his side. They both turned to face the house, and figuring she just wanted company, not a therapist, Hiccup kept quiet and just let her do what she needed to.

“Why wasn’t I here?” Astrid mumbled after a few minutes. Hiccup turned to her. “What?” he asked softly. She looked up at him and spoke a little louder, “why wasn’t I here? I could’ve helped them. I could’ve prevented their home from getting completely destroyed,” she wrapped her arms around her stomach and turned away from him.

“Astrid, you can’t possibly blame yourself for this. We were at the Edge! How could you have possibly known an attack was coming?”

“Exactly, Hiccup. I wasn’t here. I couldn’t have known there was going to be an attack. But maybe I could’ve, had I actually been here with them.” Hiccup started to speak but before he could get a word out she started again.

“I mean I know the dangers Berk faces. I know the enemies we have. I know that at any moment, we could be attacked. So why did I leave? I should’ve stayed here and helped protect Berk-”

“Astrid, Astrid, slow down, this is not your fault,” Hiccup said as he gently grabbed her hands to calm her down. “There is no way you could’ve prevented this. Whether you were here or not, no one saw this attack coming, which means you wouldn't have either. It wouldn’t have been any different if you were here.” He let go of her hands as she looked up at him. He couldn’t tell if she was angry at him or not, but he braced himself for a punch that never came. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly. This was the last thing he’d expected to happen, but regardless, he knew she needed him. He hugged her back and held her head against his chest as she cried. He wasn’t that much taller than her, but he was tall enough that the top of her head fit right under his chin. He didn’t know what to say, or if he should even say anything at all, so he just held her and did his best to comfort her. They stayed like that for a while, until he heard Astrid whisper, “what if they’d died, Hiccup?” He pulled away and without thinking, put his hand on her cheek. She froze at the gesture, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“But they didn’t. I know it’s scary to think about what might have happened, but you can’t think about that. What matters now is they’re okay. Nothing happened to them. They weren’t home when the attack happened, and the worst thing that happened was your house getting destroyed.” They fell silent for a moment, and Astrid looked up at him, but didn’t say anything. Their eyes remained locked, and Astrid moved closer to him. They were nearly face to face, and Astrid leaned in a bit, clearly wanting Hiccup to meet her halfway.

“I- uh- um- you- you know, Astrid,” Hiccup stuttered as he walked over to Toothless, “whenever I feel upset or- or something like that, I usually take a relaxing flight on Toothless. Would you maybe wanna…?” He gestured to the open spot behind him on the dragon. She wanted to be upset with him, but she told herself it wasn’t worth it, so she walked over to him and climbed onto the spot behind him.

“At least I’m not dangling from a tree this time,” she teased. He laughed, remembering that night he’d gained her trust, and motioned for Toothless to fly up. Once they were in the air, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Hiccup knew it was probably just comfortable for her, and it didn’t mean anything, but it still made him smile like crazy. He had strong feelings for her, this he knew. But he promised himself he’d never let her know, for fear that it would ruin the friendship they’d built over the past 3 years. He told himself that no matter what way it was, romantic or platonic, as long as she were in his life, he was happy. He did, of course, think about what it would be like if they were together. Hell, he was thinking about it now. He thought about waking up next to her every morning, and being able to hold her close to him at night. He thought a lot more than he’d like to admit about kissing her. Sure, they’d kissed two times before, but the first was in a “thanks for risking your life to save the entirety of the village” type way and the second was at Thawfest, when he’d purposefully failed a competition so that Snotlout could win, so that was more of a “that was a nice thing you did out there today” type of kiss. He didn’t think either of them were romantic, at least not on her end. He thought of them as mere “thank you’s”. But that’s not how he wanted it. He wanted to be able to run his fingers through her hair, and kiss her goodnight, and in the mornings.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts, and told himself it wouldn’t be fair to put her in an awkward situation, and unless she made it clear she felt the same way for him, they had to stay platonic. He realized he hadn’t heard from her in a while, so he peered back at her. Her arms were still around his waist, but she’d moved her head so her cheek was resting on his shoulder, and her eyes were closed. She’d fallen asleep. He whispered her name a couple of times, just to confirm, and when she didn’t respond, he told Toothless to drop them by her Aunt’s house where she and her parents were staying while their house was repaired. However, no one was home. Multiple ships had been sent out to collect new resources to replace what was lost in the attack, and aboard those ships were Astrid’s parents and their siblings. He knew he wouldn’t be able to carry her all the way to her bed, and he didn’t want to wake her up, so he carefully led Toothless inside. He figured no one would mind, as long as they didn’t break anything. They made their way to the room she was staying in, and he carefully got off Toothless and carried her to the bed. He pulled some blankets over her and hesitated before placing a soft kiss on the top of her head. He began walking towards the door when he heard Astrid say, “um, Hiccup? Could you possibly stay? There’s no one here and I don’t want to be alone right now.” He turned towards her and nervously sputtered out, “I- yeah- are you- uh- are you sure?” He could barely see her but he knew she was looking at him with a serious expression, so he told Toothless to head to the arena and stay there for the night. Once Toothless was gone and Hiccup knew he’d made it safely, he lit a candle, detached his prosthetic, laid down next to her, and blew out the candle. His thoughts were racing, and he knew he wouldn’t sleep much, but he wanted to be here for Astrid, so he stayed. A few moments passed and Astrid spoke.

“I can’t close my eyes without imagining what would’ve happened if my parents would’ve been in the house,” she admitted. Hiccup turned to face her and said, “I know what that’s like. Sometimes I close my eyes and imagine what would’ve happened if Toothless hadn’t caught me during the Battle of the Green Death. It scares me. I imagine the people I would’ve hurt if I would’ve… you know…” they both knew what he was going to say, but neither of them said it, “look the point is,” he continued as he began to move her bangs to the side. He quickly froze and pulled his hand away, “Oh Gods uh- I’m so sorry I dont kno-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Everything happened so fast, and all he knew was that one moment her lips were on his and the next moment she was pulling away, babbling an apology, “Sorry, I don’t know what- I mean if you don’t feel the sam-” but it was his turn to cut her off.

He leaned forward and kissed her. She hesitated for a moment before kissing him back. This was nothing like any of the kisses they’d previously shared. He was bolder this time, taking most of the control, which, to Astrid’s surprise, she didn’t mind. His lips were soft and he was gentle as he ran his fingers through her hair. She realized that this- he- was all she wanted. And it was all Hiccup ever wanted too. He remained calm on the outside but his mind was spinning with a million thoughts- but the only one he could pay attention to was the one saying he loved her. He loved her, he loved this. The quick pauses to take a breath, and the reconnecting of their lips, which sent a fire throughout his body each time, the feeling of her hair in his hands, all of it. He didn’t want it to end, and neither did she. Neither knew how long they stayed like that, but eventually they pulled apart, the feeling of each other still on their lips.

“Um lips okay wow that just…” she had no idea what to say.

“Did you just seriously just say ‘um lips’ to me?” he joked. She laughed and lightly punched him on the arm, “I just never expected you to initiate something like that, Haddock,” she teased back, though she meant it. Astrid had always been the one to initiate any intimate moments they shared, and she hadn’t expected Hiccup, the boy who got flustered whenever they made eye contact for more than 3 seconds, to do something that bold. Not that she was complaining though. Hiccup faked a smug smile and voice saying, “yeah I just did that.”

“Do I need to humble you Dragon Boy?” and with that, she pushed him off the bed. He landed with a thud but quickly got up in a play fighting stance. “So this is how it is huh?” he lunged at her on the bed, attempting to grab her around the waist to tickle her, but she quickly dodged.

“You can’t win against me,” she said with a smirk

“Oh yeah, Hofferson? Let’s see,” he said as he went for her again, but to neither of their surprise, she was just that much quicker than him. She maneuvered by him so that she was behind him, grabbed his arm, and pinned it against his back, “what was that you were saying, ‘let’s see’?”

“I’m not giving up yet, I’ve- I’ve got something coming you’ll never expect,” he said attempting to sound confident, but it really just came across as struggling.

“Oh yeah? That’s okay, I can wait like this. Take your time,” she said in a sly tone. She knew she had him beat, but she didn’t mind letting him pretend he’d thought of something. After a few minutes, he caved in, “alright fine, fine I give up! You win,” he said, and Astrid dropped his arm, laughing hysterically.

“I almost had you!”

“I’m sure you did,” she said, her laughter slowly subsiding. They were both exhausted and laid down on the bed, this time, Hiccup’s arm wrapped around Astrid, and Astrid’s head on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of each breath he took. This was the most comfortable she’d ever felt in her entire life, and she wanted to stay like this forever.

“Astrid, I promise you none of this is your fault. You can’t blame yourself for what happened here while you were gone.” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and Hiccup figured she was asleep.

“Thank you, Hiccup. For everything tonight. Taking me on Toothless, getting me back home, staying with me, everything. It really means a lot to me.” He smiled and held her tighter, gently brushing his hands through her hair.

“Astrid I will always be here for you, no matter what. I know you think you have to deal with things alone, but you don’t. You have me, the dragon riders, your parents, so many people that care about you and wouldn’t hesitate to help you with something. You don’t have to go through everything alone.” He was right, but he also wasn’t. No one would be there for her the way he is.

“The truth is, Hiccup- you’re the person I trust the most. I know that sounds crazy because it should be my parents, but they’re traditional vikings, they think the best way to handle emotions is with axes and sharp things. And I love the dragon riders, don’t get me wrong, but I probably wouldn’t trust them with too many things. Fishlegs is nice, but he’d probably just try and get me to meditate, the twins, well that’s pretty self explanatory,” Hiccup laughed and agreed with that one, “Snotlout is the last person I’d trust with anything, and Heather isn’t around enough for me to talk to her frequently. Hiccup, you’re the only one that let’s me deal with things the way I need to. You make me feel… safe. You always have. That night you took me on the first flight on Toothless, I remember me yelling at you ‘I am not listening to anything you have to say’, and instead of getting angry, you worked with me and said, ‘then I won’t speak, just let me show you.’ You never try and argue and you don't get upset, you just let me be myself,” she confessed.

“Well I guess you didn’t really have a choice to trust me when you were stuck up in that tree,” he joked, “but I never knew I made you feel that way. I mean, I’m glad I do, I just never knew. And it doesn’t sound crazy, I don’t trust my dad with a whole lot, and obviously I don’t know my mom. And the dragon riders can be a bit much sometimes, that is true. I guess the same goes for me, you’re the person I trust the most too.” She gave a content smile and lifted her head up and kissed him gently. She placed her head back on his chest and closed her eyes, feeling happier than she ever had.

Once Hiccup thought she was asleep, he whispered, “I love you, Astrid Hofferson,” and closed his eyes, which were almost immediately reopened when he heard a quiet, “I love you too, Haddock.” He wanted to stay awake, just for a little bit longer. He wanted to live in this moment forever. Astrid curled up against him, peacefully sleeping, her hair cascading down her back and across his chest, her head perfectly placed in the crook of his neck. But sooner than he cared for, sleep overtook him and they were both fast asleep, still holding onto each other as tightly as they could.

#httyd #httyd fanfiction #hiccup #hiccup haddock #astrid #astrid hofferson #hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #how to train your dragon

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yikesimonfire · 3 years

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Howdy Neighbor || Alfie & Bex

Timing: Before the events of Promise to Bind. Location: Hallway of Alfie’s apartment complex. Parties: @inbextween & @yikesimonfire Summary: Bex drops by Eddie’s apartment with a gift; Alfie isn’t sure what he thinks of her. Content: internalized homophobia tw

It wasn’t necessary, but Bex liked doing nice things for her friends, and so she’d made Eddie a bone crown while she’d hyperfocused on making things yesterday. She’d had so much energy the past few days, due mostly in part to Mina, and well-- the stuff that had happened between them. Sometimes, she couldn’t stop smiling about it. Sometimes, it made her face hurt. The crown was littered with dried, pressed flowers that were sealed with preserve to keep them from crumbling apart, and she’d dusted off some of the small antlers Morgan had in the workshop-- way too small to even be baby deer antlers, so Bex really had to wonder what they might be from. They looked almost rabbit size-- and arranged them in a fashion she thought might suit Eddie. The coyote jaw bones really brought the piece together, as well. She hoped he’d appreciate the celebration of death in it. She figured he might, considering he saw ghosts and lived his life with them. But when she knocked, no one answered. Hmm, maybe she should’ve messaged him first. That probably would’ve been the smart idea, but she’d sort of wanted to surprise him. She wondered where he might be, as she peered into the front window. All the lights were off, which meant no one was home, probably. She pulled out her phone to text him when she noticed someone outside the apartment next to Eddie’s. “Oh, um hello!” she called out, waving. She didn’t recognize them, but then again, Bex didn’t know a lot of people around town. “I was just dropping something off! Do you know Eddie?”

It wasn’t uncommon that Alfie saw people he didn’t know lingering around the apartment complex. In fact, he didn’t know many people that lived there — even fewer by name. So when he got upstairs, mail in hand, he didn’t think anything of the young woman standing outside of Eddie’s door. As he reached for his keys, he ducked his head to avoid any unnecessary eye-contact. Soon enough, he’d have the door unlocked and he’d be safe. But then, in an unusually friendly voice, she called out to him. The sound of her voice made him involuntarily jerk (and almost drop his keys), but he managed a glance in her direction with a polite, but thin-lipped smile. “Hi,” he curtly replied. The question that followed, however, caused his brow to raise.

“Eddie? Uh — yeah. Yeah, I know Eddie.” Knew him better than most, or at least that’s what Alfie liked to believe. But that was neither here nor there. “I think he’s out, actually. Can’t exactly say when he’ll be back.” Obviously he was out, it probably didn’t take Alfie’s saying so for the stranger to figure that out. She wouldn’t have been standing outside if Eddie were home. Still, while Alfie fiddled with his key, edging it closer to the lock, he figured his friend would probably appreciate him being courteous. “Didyouneedanything?” The words sputtered out in an incoherent mess. “Or, uh… Is there anything I can do to help? He — he’ll probably be back soon.” He figured the polite thing to do was at least offer to wait with her (Eddie would like that, right?) but thought it inappropriate to mention.

Bex didn’t really notice the anxious behavior as she fussed with the phone and the crown in her hands, trying not to drop either one of them. At least her clumsiness had never extended to her hands. She managed to type out a text before the other boy mumbled something so quickly she didn’t quite understand it. “Oh! Oh, that’s-- kind of you to offer,” she said, looking down at her phone as it buzzed. An immediate answer, of course. He wasn’t going to be home for a bit, and she had stuff to do. Mina was expecting her back in a bit, as well. “Um, actually, yeah,” she said, pocketing her phone and looking back over at the other boy. He was quite a bit taller than her, even in her heels, and it wasn’t often she met someone who achieved that. She glanced back at Eddie’s door, before turning back to the other boy. “Would you mind giving this to him when he gets back? I would stay, but I have to be somewhere, and, well, I don’t really trust just leaving it on the doorstep, you know? I made it for him myself and I’d really like it if he actually, you know, got it.” She paused. “Not that I think anyone would steal it or anything! Or, well, I guess I sort of do, otherwise I’d be okay leaving it, but I’m more worried about it getting broken.” As nervous as Bex could be, she was used to talking to strangers and asking things of them. At least her parents had taught her one useful thing.

She made it for him herself? Alfie stood there, dumbfounded for a moment before giving her a small nod. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Course I can!” The hand holding his keys dropped to his side as he shifted towards her, his arm prematurely extended for a swift transfer. In the process, he noticed his shoulders were slouched and straightened up his back a bit — careful not to stand too tall and risk intimidating her. “Trust me, I get it. It’s a sketchy place. There’s no telling what might happen to it before Ed — Eddie gets back. ‘Sides, we wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.” A forced chuckle followed which Alfie immediately regretted. “That… sounds like I’m saying it’s dangerous or something. I just mean, y’know… Things happen around here and, who knows — it’d probably be fine, but better safe than sorry.” His lips pursed together as he studied her face, trying to remember if he’d seen her anywhere; in any pictures Eddie had shown him, or even just from around town. Nothing. Was this just a thing now? Eddie having people over to bring him handmade gifts? “Will he be expecting it, or should I mention who it’s from?” he wondered. He figured that Eddie would be expecting it if she considered leaving it, but he also hoped that putting a name to her face might jog his memory.

“Oh, thank-- I appreciate that!” Bex said, catching herself quickly. It was still such an easy habit to fall into, saying thank you, without knowing what someone was. She thought of all the times she’d said thank you to Professor Campbell and hoped he wasn’t a fae. “Oh, yeah, yes! Better safe than sorry! I mean, this place doesn’t look too sketchy, and when I was over helping him edit some videos the other day, it seemed like a nice place! I think there’s definitely much sketchier places in White Crest,” she rambled. Oh, she was rambling again. She always did that when she was nervous. She smiled to cut herself off and held out the crown for him. “Do you know Eddie well?” she asked, when she noticed the slip in name. If he called him Ed, they were probably good friends, right? Usually people who were close gave each other nicknames. “Uh, no, I don’t think he’s expecting it. I just-- decided to make one and thought of him while I was doing it, so,” the sentence cut short as she shrugged. She wasn’t really sure why she’d made it for him, only that she wanted to do something nice for him, after everything he’d done for her. “You can tell him it’s from Bex,” she tacked on finally, looking back at the other boy with a half smile.

Helping him edit videos? Alfie never helped Eddie edit videos. Granted, that was probably because he never showed any interest in helping him. “Oh, yeah,” Alfie forced another laugh. “He keeps it surprisingly free of dog hair, considering.” He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Hell, he wasn’t even sure how he felt about that. Eddie was allowed to have other friends; it shouldn’t have bothered him. So why did it? “We’re pretty close, yeah.” At this point, Alfie didn’t even know if that was true. No — that was ridiculous. Of course they were close. Eddie was his best friend, after all.

As soon as the stranger introduced herself, things started making a little more sense. “Oh, Bex! From the — the exorcismyay,” Alfie’s voice dropped to a near whisper when he said “exorcism”. He remembered Eddie mentioning her now; how a filming adventure went awry. As it seemed, these excursions of his were just as dangerous as ever. “I realize now that’s still the same word in Pig Latin,” he tittered, a genuine smile crinkling at the corners of his eyes. The nagging in the pit of his stomach was quickly dissipating. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bex, and it’s sweet that you wanted Eddie to have this. I’m sure he’ll love it. I’m Alfie, by the way. Alfie Ramirez.” Why did he just tell her his full name? Should he shake her hand now? Was that the right thing to do? Without thinking, Alfie dropped his keys to offer Bex his other hand. “I’d hate to keep you,” he added as an afterthought. “I know you’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Hey, well, Bucket is a queen and she deserves the world. I wouldn’t mind dog hair all over me if it was hers,” Bex chuckled, giving Alfie a better smile this time. He was a nice guy, and, so far, Bex really liked him. Especially if he was friends with Eddie. She didn’t think Eddie would be friends with anyone that wasn’t at least a little like him. “Oh, have you known him long, then? He said he grew up here, and he’s one of those people who seems to love this town. I think it’s cute, don’t you? How much he seems to like this place. It’s...refreshing.” She wasn’t sure why she’d said all that, but she supposed it was the truth, so what did it matter? And if this was Eddie’s friend, then, maybe she wanted to connect with him, too. Maybe she wanted to show Eddie that she had a genuine interest in his life. He made her feel welcome, after all. And safe. She had broken down in front of him and made him see her horrific nightmare and he’d still offered to drive her home and then also be her friend. He deserved a lot more than a bone crown and a date rejection.

“Oh! Yes! That! That was fun! I was so excited he asked me to come with him. I’ve never seen a ghost before. Or, well, I still technically haven’t, but I’ve seen what they can do! And stuff like that! And it was-- kind of amazing? Did you know there’s different kinds?” She straightened up, laughing a little. “Sorry, I um-- kind of get carried away when i get excited. It’s nice to meet you, Alfie!” she stuck out her hand and took his, watching his keys drop to the ground. “Oh! You’re not keeping me! I mean, I do have someplace to be in a bit, but not right away! Eddie just said he wouldn’t be home for a while--” she shook her phone at him in a gesture of ‘he texted me’ before dropping it, “--so I just don’t have time to wait for him to come back.”

There was a dull throb in Alfie’s chest the moment Bex referred to Eddie as “cute”. For years now, he’d been telling himself not to think like that — and for years, he’d failed. His friend and neighbor would forever be unattainable. It was fine; Alfie accepted that Eddie would only ever be his friend. But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t difficult every now and then. How could he pretend that his feelings were strictly platonic when Eddie’s laugh made his heat soar? Or when he stood there, one hand on his hip, and the other forcing his mess of hair in every which way? Eddie was cute — painfully so — but hearing that someone else thought it too seemed… unfair? Almost. With any luck, Bex said that sort of thing about all of her friends; it couldn’t be exclusive to Eddie, could it?

“Uh, kind of, yeah,” Alfie croaked. “I’ve known him since high school, but we didn’t talk much.” That was a lie. Sure, they went to school together, but implying that they interacted at all was inaccurate. “That changed when Eddie moved in nextdoor, though. We’ve been friends ever since… The rest is ancient history, and all that jazz.” Alfie knew he needed to stop embellishing the truth. One quick chat with Eddie and Bex would know the truth. Hell, he apparently didn’t make it a point to mention him to her yet. The ache in Alfie’s chest permeated his entire body. His cheeks flushed and his heart raced. He was being ridiculous, he told himself. It shouldn’t matter that Bex didn’t know about him. It shouldn’t matter that Eddie was making new friends. And having them over to his house. Introducing them to Bucket. Watching movies and cuddling on the couch.

Stop it! His mind screamed at him over the sound of Bex’s voice. What was the last thing she said? “Different kinds?” Alfie parroted, trying to remember the words that came before it. Ghosts, right. His ears were still ringing. She shook his hand and he laughed, returning the gesture long enough to be socially acceptable before withdrawing, completely disregarding his keys on the ground. “No, no — you’re fine! I know a bit about ghosts, but I’ve definitely never had an encounter like that before. It sounds—” terrifying, “— fun!” For what it was worth, Alfie didn’t exactly want to shoo Bex away, not even when his heart was drumming in his chest. Maybe if he changed the subject? “Ah, that’s understandable,” he agreed. “Have you been here long? In White Crest, I mean — not here, here. I can’t say I’ve ever seen you around.”

If the other boy was distracted by thoughts, Bex didn’t notice. She was caught up in her own, thinking about Eddie, and how much fun she’d had with him, and what was wrong with her? She had Mina, she had slept with Mina, more than once, and maybe she wanted more than to just be friends with Mina, so why did she keep thinking about what Eddie had said? Why had he asked her out? Why hadn’t she just told him the truth? Everything was so confusing yet so clear right now. She blinked, and readjusted, because Alfie was talking again and she needed to pay attention. Pay attention. “OH, you went to highschool together? That’s cool! I assume you went to the school here? Yeah, I mean, that’s fair. I always feel like people are very different in highschool than after.”

She looked down at his keys on the floor and wondered if he knew. Should she point them out? “Um, you dropped your keys, by the way.” He was being oddly quiet between bouts of words, and she wondered if he was somehow off put by her. She was being awfully nosy, after all. She couldn’t help it. Eddie was still kind of a mystery to her, aside from his ghost stuff. She wanted to know more about him. She’d have to ask him. Maybe bothering his neighbor was a bad idea. “Oh, me? I mean, technically, yes? I was born here. I live-- lived-- out on Harmony Island. I’m in East End now, but I didn’t go to school in town. I went to a private school up in Augusta, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen me around.” Lately, a lot of locals had been saying that to her. Did everyone just know everyone here? She supposed the whole six degrees of separation was more like two degrees in a tiny town like this. “What about you? Did you grow up here? I mean, obviously you went to school here, but, you know, did you move here or were you always here?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Alfie absentmindedly agreed, not bothering to get into the smaller details. In high school, the boys didn’t have much to do with each other. He saw Eddie around campus and onstage in theater productions, but that was about it. Whoever Eddie was in high school, he doubted they would have gotten along back then.

When Bex mentioned that he’d dropped his keys, Alfie looked almost startled. His eyes shot to his feet where, lo and behold, his keychain limply lied. “Oh, huh, I— yeah, I guess I did,” he grumbled before crouching down and plucking them up. How was he managing to make this much of a fool out of himself? He worried what Bex must have thought of him; more importantly, what Eddie would think if he knew. Would she tell him? ‘Hey, I met your neighbor, Alfie. You know, the one you never mentioned? What a weirdo!’ His thoughts swarmed with what they’d potentially say about him. No doubt laughing as they huddled around Eddie’s computer and bonded over a shared interest.

“Harmony Island, huh? Sounds fancy.” Alfie chewed nervously on the inside of his cheek as he tried to purge the negative thoughts from his mind. Honestly, he didn’t know much about the island. His reaction was purely based on the fact that it was, well, an island. There were probably a lot of fancy houses there, right? As per the natural progression of conversation, the question was now turned on him. “Yeah, I grew up here,” he answered as he shifted his weight, standing somewhat smaller than he had before. “I’ve never left the greater White Crest area, actually. My family— they, uh… own the library. Or, run it, I guess? It’s probably a lot less cool than it sounds unless you really love books.” Bex probably didn’t care about what his family did for a living, but it was better than hearing how great friends she was with Eddie. “I haven’t worked there in a while, though. I’m actually a software developer. Freelance. I could never work a nine-to-five.”

Bex took a small step back as Alfie bent to pick up his keys. He didn’t seem very talkative, and she wondered if it was because of her. Was she making him uncomfortable? Was it weird that she’d come to Eddie’s place without asking before hand? Was he wary of her? Did he not like her? She shook the thoughts from her head and tried to focus back in on what Alfie was saying. “Oh, uh, yeah! My family is actually kind of uh, well known around town,” she said, rubbing the back of her head before hands came together to wring each other out. She looked back over her shoulder, as if maybe she would turn and see Eddie coming down the hallway, but there was nothing. “My parents are pretty well off.” But I don’t speak to them much anymore. Or at all. She shivered at the thought.

“You’re-- family owns the library? The public one? Do-- do you have a sister? I think I might’ve talked to her online! Is her name Leah?” She was somehow grateful for the change of subject, perking back up for a moment. IF she could make friends with Eddie’s friends, then that was only a good thing, right? That had to be a good thing. “Software developer? Woah, that’s so cool! How’d you learn to do that? Did you teach yourself or did you go to school for it? Either way, that’s, like, super impressive.”

Alfie gave a series of small nods as Bex talked about her own family. He wondered if he should know who they were, but thought better of it. He was still a stranger, after all. They knew each other's names and that they shared a mutual friend. That was it. Alfie was never any good at making friends. Sure, there was also Nell, but their friendship started out of sheer luck — and family ties. Small talk was also not within Alfie’s usual realm of comfort. He hated it, in fact. That’s probably why he didn’t have many friends. That and the fact that that he never felt he needed any. Maybe, with any luck, he’d manage to befriend Bex too. “That makes sense; with private school and everything,” he agreed.

A light laugh surfaced from the depths of his chest. “Yeah, that’s the one,” Alfie confirmed after clearing his throat. “Leah, yeah. She’s, uh— she’s great, really.” He never knew what to say when it came to his family. His parents were strict when he was growing up. They still were, actually. Not that he had much to do with them these days. Leah was — beyond a shadow of a doubt — the golden child. Compared to her and their other siblings, Alfie was the black sheep. That wasn’t the sort of information people usually offered to someone they just met. Instead, Alfie kept quiet; at least until Bex showed an interest in his job. All of a sudden, his face lit up. It was cool! “I’m mostly self-taught, actually! I mean, I took some classes for it in high school, but that’s about it. It’s just always been something I’ve enjoyed doing — fiddling around with computers and whatnot.” Alfie grinned sheepishly at Bex. As much as he enjoyed talking about it, he didn’t want to bore her. “What about you, though? Do you work, or…?”

“She is! She was super nice and agreed to let me borrow some books! Which...it’s a library so of course she did, but I mean, like--” Bex lowered her voice a bit and leaned in, “--special books, if you catch my drift.” Supernatural books. Magic books. She smiled again as she leaned back and gave a short chuckle. “Sorry. I just get really excited about books, and when I actually happen to know people. I don't know too many people around town, so it’s nice knowing this place is actually smaller than it seems, you know? Like, who woulda thought that Eddie’s neighbor, who I met coincidentally, was related to the nice librarian lady I talked to online, who also knows my mo-- er, my current guardian, and is friends with her! Isn’t that wild?” She tried to recuperate fast enough to hope Alfie hadn’t caught her stumble. Not that he knew about her situation, but the slip had even her surprised. Morgan wasn’t her mom. Morgan probably didn’t want the responsibility of that, either. Plus, Bex was an adult, mostly. She didn’t need someone to be that for her. She was doing fine, really.

“But, oh, wow! That’s so cool! And so impressive that you learned most of it all on your own! Do you make a lot of money doing it? What kinds of things do you design? I mean, software, obviously, but is it like, firewalls, programs, mods? There’s so much. Me? Oh, well-- I used to intern at my parents’ law firm, but I, uh-- have recently had a change of heart for what I wanna major in. So, currently jobless, just uh, focusing on school! And, well-- I guess ghost hunting, now. Does that count as a job if I’m not getting paid? It feels like more than a hobby, though, you know?”

“Special books — right, totally getcha. Like, say… her personal copy of ‘Interview with the Vampire’,” Alfie nodded. It wasn’t surprising that someone jumping into the ghost hunting scene would be interested in perusing the restricted section of the library. On the contrary, Leah wasn’t known to lend out books (as far as Alfie was aware) and he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to it than just Bex’s excursions with Eddie. “Sorry, that was lame. But, yes, I caught your drift.” As Bex apologized, Alfie shook his head with a gentle smile. He was no stranger to talking a bit more than he should about things that made him excited. The library might not have been one of his go-to hangouts these days, but if Bex wanted to gush over it, he’d be happy to listen. “No need to apologize! And actually — now that you mention it — White Crest may be a relatively small town, but you’d be surprised how many people I don’t know. I guess it is pretty cool to realize who knows who and whatnot.”

The broad grin never wavered from Alfie’s face. It was easy to push aside his reservations towards Bex when his craft was in question. He was very quickly warming up to this new acquaintance. “A handful of different things, actually! I’ve cast a pretty wide net. I’ve recently been really into programming a personal database. It’s, uh… a work in progress.” Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. In the event that it got back to Leah, his sister might start asking questions that Alfie wasn’t prepared to answer. “But, yeah. You pretty much hit the nail on the head with all of those. The pay’s decent enough, though I haven’t had any big projects lately — takes care of the bills at least.” Did it matter that some of these projects were morally questionable? Alfie was merely the brains behind them; what the clients used them for were out of his control. He objected not to voice this, considering her parents were in law. “Hey, take it from someone who didn’t go to college: you’re allowed to change your mind about that sort of thing. ‘Specially since you’re the one earning the degree. Have you picked a new major, or…? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“Yeah, but less Interview With A Vampire and more--” Bex started, then stopped. She’d been reminded time and time again that telling people she didn’t know that she was a spellcaster was a bad idea. But Alfie was friends with Eddie and he was Leah’s little brother, so he could be trusted, right? She wanted to trust him. “More, Practical Magic.” Oh, that was a blatant reference, wasn’t it? Well, no hiding it now, she supposed. She gave him a sheepish smile and waved it off. “Not lame! Definitely not lame. If it was lame then so was mine.” She chuckled lightly, hoping to move past the notion quickly, nodding eagerly when he amended his statement about White Crest. “Yeah, totally! I’ve definitely noticed that. I mean, I grew up kinda closed off, so I never really knew people around town, but once I started actually meeting people, it was like everyone knew everyone! Or knew of them, at least. Wild, huh? Six degrees of separation who?” Oh, now she was just embarrassing herself. She cleared her throat. “It’s just interesting to see. When I moved away to Penn State briefly, it was so different. Everything was so impersonal.” She’d sort of liked that, though, blending in easily. The dream of that life was so long gone,though.

“Woah, you’re making a whole database all from scratch?? That’s incredible!” Bex exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly, but she couldn’t help it-- people being excited made her excited and her cheeks bubbled with it. She needed to find every reason to be excited, anyway. Every reason to be happy. “But, you know, pays the bills is good! Especially if it’s something you enjoy! Isn’t that what they say? Find something you love and you’ll never work a day in your life?” She remembered one of her professors telling her that. She didn’t know if it was true. “Oh! Uh, yeah, I have. Um-- Anthropology. I’ll probably focus on uh, Archaeology. It’s what interests me the most. But, really, anything about history interests me. I could probably go to school for the rest of my life getting different history degrees. I won’t, though! But I could.” She rubbed the back of her head. “I’m what they call a History nerd. Or buff. History buff. Anything you wanna know about history, I probably know something about!”

Practical magic? That came as a surprise. The only spellcasters Alfie knew in White Crest were the Vurals. He always figured there were more, but never bothered to find out for himself. A wave of anxiety crashed over him at the thought of Bex having something to do with his curse; a worry that quickly subsided at the realization that no beginner magic-user could be involved in a plot spanning across what was likely centuries. Unless…

“Not lame,” Alfie reiterated with a meek smile. “Although, I can’t exactly say I’ve read it myself.” He wondered if it would be appropriate to ask her more about it — if only to subdue his concern. Maybe it was best to leave it be for the time being.

It was interesting to hear about Bex’s fondness for White Crest. The reasons she seemed to adore the small town were on Alfie’s list of why he wanted to leave it. “That sounds ideal to me,” he said playfully, electing not to elaborate. Explaining that he longed for a bigger city where he could easily hide away would only dampen the mood. Not to mention that it could potentially get back to Eddie who would undoubtedly be upset by it. If anyone could make Alfie stay, it would be him — another thing on his ever-growing list that Alfie wasn’t prepared to get into with Bex.

“More or less,” he chuckled. “The original code is pretty much public domain, but I’ve made my own enhancements.” These ‘enhancements’ being private journals that he so eagerly nicked from the family’s secret collection, though that was neither here nor there. He’d return them… eventually. “I mean, that’s awesome, though! There’s still so much to discover through artifacts from the past.” In a sense, Alfie was doing the same; unearthing his own past through vague remnants of it. “Good on you for chasing your dreams.”

Alfie thoughtfully pursed his lips. He wondered if Bex had anything in her bank of knowledge pertaining to his own circumstances. “Actually, now that you mention it… You don’t happen to have any recommendations on, say, the history of White Crest, do you? More specifically pre-dating European colonization?” It was a long shot, but he couldn’t exactly ask Leah.

“Oh!” Bex perked a bit, “it’s actually a really good book! If you like reading about that kinda stuff, I’d totally suggest it.” She beamed for a moment. She loved talking about books and sharing other people’s interests and, well, it was always nice when people shared hers, too, wasn’t it? She wondered if Alfie knew about all the things that went on in the shadows of White Crest, all the things the world tried to hide from people-- probably, considering he was friends with Eddie, and Eddie didn’t seem like the kinda guy to hoard that type of information. In fact, he was the opposite. She shook the thoughts away.

“What? Oh! Yeah,” she blinked back to the present moment and away from her thoughts and nodded. “I don’t mind living in a small town. I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but I dunno-- it’s not so bad, for me.” It was harder to disappear, but maybe that wasn’t what she wanted anymore. Maybe she did want to be known, after being hidden for so long.

“Enhancements? Well, I mean, still! That’s amazing. I’m sure you made it infinitely better. And, well, yeah, thanks! I just kinda figured, what’s the point of life if you’re just living someone else’s, you know?” She gave pause at his last question. She did, in fact, have recommendations on all that. But they were Morgan’s family notebooks and the ones she’d dug up at the record hall and “borrowed” permanently. No one knew they were missing, not when she’d replaced them with fakes. She chewed her lip. “Uh, I mean, you could check town hall, if you wanted to. They might have some old newspapers or records that could tell you about that stuff. Does your family not have any books on that stuff in the library?” And little did she know, her own parents had records of that time. They’d been in White Crest longer than the town had a name, after all. She shrugged. “Sorry I can’t be more help there.” Her phone buzzed and she glanced down at it. “Oh, uh-- I-- I should probably get going, actually. I-- thanks again, you know, for talking to me and for holding onto that for Eddie for me.”

“I’m not exactly, uh — how do I put this? — affluent in that sort of thing, if I’m being honest,” Alfie chuckled. The hand holding his keys darted behind him to rub the back of his neck. Growing up, Nell tried her best to explain it to him, but the only thing Alfie could relate it to was his lessons on temperature control — and his innate ability to burst into flame. Aside from that, magic simply didn’t make sense to him. He always assumed it was something some were simply born with. These new-age witches and wiccans most likely accomplished nothing more than what any ordinary human was already capable of. Then again, what did he know? He figured it would be impolite to ask Bex whether or not she had any real powers. It wasn’t his business.

Alfie nodded along as Bex spoke, failing to come up with anything valuable to add. Living in White Crest was a curse (at least for him), but he didn’t expect others to share that opinion. He wasn’t sure how far back his history with premature death went. All Alfie knew for certain was that the records he did have access to were set in the unusual town; none of which explained the source for his self-proclaimed “curse”. What he needed to find was something with the answer in bold print — a pissed off spellcaster rebuking one phoenix in particular. Or perhaps an astrological phenomenon occurring around the time of his birth or death. Not that Alfie knew the precise dates.

“Yeah, I mean, the library definitely has some stuff,” he said sheepishly. “But, uh, thanks. I’ll have to give town hall a shot.” At that moment, Bex’s phone buzzed. Alfie hadn’t noticed the tension in his shoulders until then. “Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you.” He felt a little guilty for being relieved that Bex was leaving. He hated small talk. “It was great to finally meet you, Bex. I’ll make sure Eddie gets it as soon as he’s home. And, uh… be safe out there.”

#c: bex #writing #howdy neighbor #internalized homophobia tw

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beauregard-s · 4 years

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Ride or Die (Richie Tozier x Reader)

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader (aged up)

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: A lot of cursing, NSFW material, and a bit of fluff and angst maybe?

A/n: I was really frustrated because I have been trying to write this one for a while, but never got it right. I think it worked this time, yay. Hope it did.

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You kinda chewed.

That was you trying to get your mouth to salivate.

It was getting dark, the sky in dark shades of orange, pink and purple, but it was still too hot for your standards and you were getting pissed at all of them for teasing you that much. Plus that shit was making you feel sick.

“Come on, y/n! Don’t be such a lady!” Bev laughed.

“Sh-sh-She was never one.” Bill said by your side. He was watching you carefully, smirking, checking if you’d really do that.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s just being finicky” you heard Richie’s voice behind you.

“I don’t know why the hell is she trying that, anyway. Y/n never managed to play loogie!”

You swallowed the shameful little amount of saliva you’ve had in your mouth for the last minute.

“Shut up, Eddie!” You hissed.

You closed your eyes and tried to build up the biggest amount of saliva you could, but that grossed you out, yes. That was the reason you never played loogie at the Barrens with the rest of the losers. You couldn’t form a decent loogie without tearing because, you didn’t know why, the thing grossed you out beyond limits.

But that was the day. One week away from the end of the summer. That day you would spit the hell down of that crag.

And you did.

With a harsh sound you spat and they howled. Beverly and Bill then burst into laugher while Eddie let out a shocked sound when you finally did it after years. It was your last summer living in Derry, you’d move out of there for college in a few days and you felt like you had to close the cycle someway. Even if it was foolishly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, that’s it! Someone just assumed being a spitter, not a swallower, huh?” Richie said out loud, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

Tozier was always Tozier.

He was grinning down at you like the little motherfucker he was, but you just rolled your eyes.

“If you asked your dad, you’d be aware of that way earlier than today.”

The other three just exploded in cursing and ouch’s when you said that. It was natural defense, you had to learn how to bear him down through the years you were friends. Every single time you got it back to Richie, he just laughed it off, but you’d feel like he was proud of you somehow.

So when his smile widened, you intertwined your fingers to his over your shoulder, grinning yourself.

As it was getting darker and darker, you all made your way through the woods, to where the cars were parked at. Bill turned on his blue chevy’s headlights and the radio, loud, while Bev pulled a pack of cigarettes, a lighter and a pack of marshmallows out of her backpack. You all stood there, doing nothing and messing a lot. Poorly roasting marshmallows with the lighter and talking shit.

You and Richie were sitting on his truck’s opened trunk, your legs hanging in the air while his feet were well settled on the ground since he was so fucking tall. You still remembered being taller than him when you were twelve.

You smiled with the memory and at Bill pissing the shit off Eddie with the hot marshmallows, while Beverly frowned at them with a cigarette in her lips. Lately, you had been assaulted by this weird and kinda painful, but still sweet feeling of nostalgia, mainly during the times you spent with the rest of the Losers. It made your heart feel like it was being squeezed to the size of a pea. You chose to go abroad because it was the best for you, Derry was just a little city and you felt this urge to open your wings and fly. But, on the other side, all you wanted to do was stay there and spent the rest of your days in the middle of the chaos that group was. You have been with them since middle school and now you kinda couldn’t see yourself without them.

“You going on Thursday, then?” Richie asked.

You couldn’t see yourself without him.

You hummed in affirmation and he was silent, but just for a moment. You swore you heard him sighing.

“Can’t believe I’m losing you, toots” Richie muttered by your side. You peered up at him. His messy jet black curls, those thick glasses, always dressed in the ugliest shirts you have ever seen.

“You’re not losing me, don’t be so uptight” you sounded cool about it, but your smile faltered a bit as you talked. “I’ll be here during the breaks. And over summer, which matters the most”. Richie’s eyes drifted out of Eddie now trying to awkwardly punch Bill, and relied on you. He was smiling softly. “And to think we waisted all those years, and didn’t hit a home run once”. You laughed because even when you were down he was able to cheer you up with his awful jokes and lines.“Fuck you, Tozier...”.

But it couldn’t keep your heart from sinking.

It was Richie. The dirtiest mouth and mind you have ever seen put together. And he was your ride or die. Well, Bev was the only other girl in the group, what made you have a bond, and the other boys too. Each of them had a feature that was linked to one of yours, something you shared. But Richie... He was disparate. He was the one who always had an arm around your shoulders at school, who’d always pull you to walk faster and keep the pace so you’re not left behind and who punched a guy once at a party because he harassed you.

And he got beaten the fuck out of him later for that.

He just hit different. He always did.

“I’ll miss you so much” you whispered. It kinda slid through your lips without you thinking twice. You already had the prep talk about the leaving way before, all of you Losers, so the only thing Richie could do was lean closer and kiss your temple, his hand resting on the small your back. “I’ll miss you too, doll. Believe me.” His voice sounded muffled against your hair, and when he pulled apart, you swore his smile faded for a moment before he shouted at Eddie for something stupid.

You all stayed around the Barrens until it was almost midnight, then hopping in the cars to drive around for a bit and you tried to swallow every second you had if your friends. After you all agreed on going to a diner the next night, when Stan, Ben, and Mike would be free to hang out, Richie gave Eddie a ride, while Bill offered to take you and Bev home.

As soon as you reached your place, you walked upstairs through an already dark house. Your parents were asleep, probably, because one good thing is that they were very flexible with your curfew time. You took a cold shower to cool down from the summer night’s heat before changing into some old and oversized shirt you wore in bed. You were in your room, brushing your hair when you heard tapping against your window.

You frowned at that and waited to see if it wasn’t just your sleepy ass imagining stuff. It wasn’t, something indeed tapped against your window again, so you got up from the bed and crossed your room, looking through the glass. And he was standing there, in the middle of your front garden, weaving his arms up. Richie. “What the actual fuck...” you muttered, scooting downstairs the most silently you could. And when you opened the front door very carefully, he was there, breathing heavily and looking fidgety. It took you a moment to form the rights thoughts about what to do, but when you did, you pulled him inside. Richie tried to tell you something, but you shushed him and dragged him upstairs, locking your room’s door behind you two.

You turned around to look at him, eyes widened. “The hell you doing here, Richie?”. He panted, adjusting his glasses on his nose and smiling in the cockiest way you ever saw him do. “I couldn’t let you go without risking it at least once, doll”.

You only looked repeatedly at him and then at your door, trying to listen carefully to any signs your parents heard you sneak Richie Fucking Tozier into your room in the middle of the night. And the bastard had the guts to let out a little laugh at your thrill. “Screw you, Richie.” You meant to sound angry, but you just could look like you were in pure disbelief, because that what was you felt like. In awe at him, standing so tall inside your room at 1 am. “To be honest were thinking about you doing that to me”.

Of course your breath hitched and your mouth fell open. And it did it good. He took advantage of that, and before you could think of fighting against, Richie’s lips were already on yours. You couldn’t help but react, sink into it as he leaned down against you. Hands cupping your face and glasses pressed against the bridge of your nose.

You and Richie had kissed for a few seconds once. You were fifteen, at a truth or dare game, but it was just a little peck and for sure didn’t last of felt like this time. He didn’t take over you by that time the same way he was doing in the penumbra of your room.

Richie's arms were wrapped around you and pulling you closer to his chest, his hands resting on your hips and lingering there like he wanted to feel you up, but was waiting for some kind of allowance first. Your hands sliding onto the skin of his back underneath his shirt showed him what you wanted, so he led you to your bed, tripping across your room. “I want you so fucking bad, y/n. Always had”, he practically groaned against your lips and you felt the heat growing between your thighs “Do you want me too, hun?”. As he asked, he slid his lips down your jawline to suck on the sweet spot of your neck.

“Holyshit, I do...”

He grinned at how desperate you sounded for him, when, with a single motion, he pulled your thighs so you fell back against the mattress. Richie quickly got rid of his shirt and crawled over you, hands brushing up your thighs, and lips kissing the exposed portion of your chest. You gasped to the feeling of his hips grinding against yours, and the hardness he had inside his pants. Your fingers were through his curls while his lingered up your hips, lifting your shirt up. Your thoughts were blurred and you could barely register when he took it off your body. So you were laying under his darkened eyes, your skin shivering, your chest howling in a need for him you didn’t know you had until that moment. “Fuck, y/n, you’re so goddamn beautiful” The serious tone of his made you chuckle, pulling him down for another kiss.

His weight on you, his taste of mint gum, his soft, but skilled touch on your breasts, everything was just overwhelming and you found yourself whimpering way sooner you’d like to. Richie pulled away from your lips and sat back between your thighs. No warnings needed, he hooked his fingers around your panties' waistline and pulled them off, dropping down for your heat. You watched him closing his eyes and licking all the way up where your lips met, groaning. “So wet for me, doll...” His voice vibrating against you, the view, everything he was doing to you made you moan louder than would be safe, and he liked that. He kissed and licked your pussy gently and you felt like you could cum just from that if he wasn’t doing that at such a slow pace like he was savoring you.

“’Chie, please...” you started to beg and he smirked up at you. “What is that? Are you so needy for me that you can’t even moan my name right?” That tease made you whimper and he went down on you again. He kept his pace and you were losing your mind to the feeling of his tongue playing with your clit and teasing your slit. It was until he placed one firm hand down your lower tummy, like he was holding you still for himself, you didn’t know why but that led you over your limits and you came undone on his mouth. You were a moaning mess, legs shaking and uneven breath through your high, while he talked in a hoarse voice to you, “There you go, hun, cum for me...”. Your eyes kept shut for a while, but when you opened them, you saw Richie planting a small peck against your pussy, then trailing kisses up your body.

“Goddamn, Richie.” you moaned.

Richie kissed and nibbled onto your tummy, through the valley between your breasts, sucking tightly on them, giving your neck hickeys before he met your lips again. You could taste yourself in that kiss, his firm grip keeping your legs up and apart while he aligned with you and thrust inside. You melted in his arms to the feeling of him filling you up, inch after inch. “Holy fuck, you’re so tight...” he whispered against your mouth, hips starting to rock back and forth. Still sensitive, you already felt yourself clenching around him while you moaned out his name very quietly between sloppy kisses. You couldn’t help but dig your nails on the pale skin of Richie’s back in pleasure, feeling him thrusting into you so good and deep, groaning and cursing. The knot you felt tightening in you suddenly became too much to handle and you came once more, milking Richie’s cock as he fucked you into his own high.

You had your legs tightly wrapped around him when his thrusts became slacker and when he pulled off, the feeling of his cum inside you made you let out a loud “Fuck”, instantly covering your mouth after. Richie laughed at you, and you couldn’t help to go along with him. He slid down to lay by your side, letting out something like a satisfied sigh. “Richie?” you whispered in the dark, feeling his touch on your thigh, tracing small circles that tickled you softly. “Hm?” he hummed in response. “I...” But you couldn’t let the rest of it out, and you didn’t know why. Again, Richie was disparate from the other boys and of course you always kinda knew why the same way he knew that too and felt the same. But, still, the two of you wouldn’t surrender completely to that feeling for some reason. Maybe because you weren’t ready, maybe because it was not the right time. So he just whispered back at you “I know right, y/n.” and that was enough.

Talking too much would make things worse. You had boxes stacked in a corner of that room, you’d be gone soon. Talking too much would be a disaster in that scenario and both of you knew that. So you took a deep breath, “Just promise you’ll always be my ride or die?” you asked. Richie shifted in his place by your side and when you felt his arm around you, you cuddled against him. “Like we were Bonnie and Clyde, doll.”.

You rolled your eyes fondly at how cheesy he could be sometimes, but you felt that nostalgia in your chest again, even stronger.

“What are you thinking about now, toots?” you looked up at him and he was smirking down at your pout. “Huh... I was thinking that, during all of this, your glasses didn’t fell off nor even fogged up”. Richie burst out in laughter and so did you.

He ended up cheekily raising an eyebrow, saying: “I have my ways”.

#richie tozier #richie tozier imagine #richie tozier smut #richie tozier fic #richie tozier x reader #losers club x reader #losers club imagine #it imagine #fanfic #it fanfic #it fanfiction #beauregardwrites

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benscursedkid · 3 years

Text

*title from the song of the same name by ricky montgomery and based on this post from @weirdcursedvaultkid*

i | ii | iii

he’s singing, "she's a, she's a lady, and I am just a line without a hook"

year one

Everything is bigger than she imagined.

The walls are much higher, the tables longer, Dumbledore’s podium taller. She takes a look up to the ceiling and finds that there is no roof. Constellations freckle and connect across the dark expanse of space above her. The number of floating candles about burn brightly enough to trick her eyes into believing that there are even more stars all around her.

She’s trapped somewhere in the middle of the group, surrounded on every side by the anonymous and mesmerized faces of strangers. Rowan is nowhere to be found and suddenly she feels very, very alone.

Once or twice she catches herself looking around for Jacob. His familiar bush of messy brown hair and bright sparkling jade eyes. The easy smile he always gave her that made everything feel better.

But he is no longer there.

The reminder of what she’s lost has her head spinning. She can hear her heart pumping in her ears and feels the beat of its rhythm in her temples. Things were supposed to be different. He was supposed to be here—

Something prickles at the edges of her awareness, the burning phantom of a stare somewhere just off to the side of her peripheral. Slowly, her head turns to her left, her focus still settled on the mass number of identical black shoes. Whoever is staring at her doesn’t move, nor do they look away, and Rebekah chances a glance up to their eyes.

Not a lot registers for her once she finally sees his face. The only thing she can focus on is the warmth that radiates from him in gentle waves. Thankfully, she does not have to crane her head up very far to look him in the eye and for a moment she forgets why she was afraid.

Because he is even more so.

Shakily, he turns away and goes back to trying not to catch anyone’s attention. His cheeks burn a soft shade of red and Rebekah thinks that, just for a minute, maybe things won’t be so bad.

Another name is called from the platform the tall woman stands on, but Rebekah’s mind is elsewhere and it sounds fuzzy on the ends. She does not catch it. However, her attention piques when the boy moves.

His steps up to the chair are hesitant, small strides. His eyes flicker about for a few seconds before he screws them shut. Gryffindor, the hat says, earning it many a baffled expression from its audience, the boy included. And unlike many others, the boy does not rejoice. He simply shuffles his way to the table where he is greeted with a number of questioning looks and a handful of upturned noses.

Gryffindor, the hat had declared with certainty—and dare Rebekah wonder: are hats able to smirk?—it's got to be Gryffindor.

It’s a joke that I got put in Gryffindor, the boy—Ben—said to her later the next day, his eyes low and downcast. I’m scared of everything.

Everyone is afraid of something, she offered as what she hoped was a small piece of solace. He regarded her as if he did not believe her words to be true, but was hopeful enough to imagine it anyway. And as he did, the corners of his lips curved up into a wishful smile.

The sight itself washed over Rebekah like a remedy, lightening her shoulders and easing the lump in her throat in a single swift movement. She smiled back, transforming the one on his face into something much more dazzling, yet still soft around the edges as his eyes shone a dark amber in the morning sun.

It was then that she realized that was the first time she had smiled since stepping into this large and looming and grandiose castle. All because of someone else's dream.

She hoped, then, to make a habit out of it.

Ben crouches down to be level with Rebekah as she sits on the lip of the fountain, his eyes roaming her figure for any sign of pain or injury. His own qualms forgotten, he no longer seems to notice the ripening bruise on his own arm or the gathering crowd around them.

Are you okay? He asks carefully, his brows furrowed into a knot and an exaggerated frown pulling at his mouth. She didn’t really hurt you, did she?

Rebekah blinks for a moment, her thoughts drawing a quick blank at the sight of his worry. Around them, she can hear the whispering of students who care little for hiding it. They point and gossip and Rebekah isn’t sure if they’re talking about her or them but either way, it makes her skin crawl.

Concern flashes across his eyes for a moment before he looks around and remembers himself, his cheeks pinking a little to match hers. His hand ghosts over her forearm as if unsure where to put it or what to do with it.

Don’t worry about them, Ben whispers almost to himself, but just loud enough for her to share in the secret. His hand balls into a fist before finally settling back to his side and Rebekah isn’t sure if she’s thankful or disappointed. You were amazing.

This does not do well for her fair complexion as his words only deepen the blush on her face and she quickly drops her gaze in an attempt to hide it. A beat passes and neither of them speak. Idly, she wonders where Rowan has gone off to, before Ben opens his mouth to respond.

His voice is hushed and soft, light and mostly air as he informs, They… they aren’t saying anything mean. In fact, they seem happy that you knocked Merula down a peg. At this, Rebekah shrinks a little, their blatant attention burning holes into her skin. Ben hesitates before shifting in his place to block her from view.

You don’t like the attention? He guesses to which Rebekah can only nod. Ben returns the gesture, but his shoulders seem to loosen up at her answer.

He goes for what she thinks is meant to be a comforting smile. It works. Me neither.

A spot on her elbow tingles with heat as she looks back up to face him, only to realize that his hand has moved from its place by his side to settle there instead. From the way he relaxes slightly as he continues in his original task of making sure she is okay, Rebekah can only assume that he has not noticed. She decides not to comment on it.

It seems, though, that their short moment of serenity was not meant to last very long as a flash of long, flimsy black robes and tiny circle rimmed glasses peek into her vision as their charms and potions professors make their way over to the group of gathered first years.

At once, Rowan throws her an apologetic look from her place by Flitwick’s side, clearly having been the one to alert him. Rebekah shakes her head in a silent display of forgiveness as her and Ben stand to greet them.

Somehow, Rebekah finds that she feels strangely complacent. She helped her friend today and for that she will never apologize.

His grip turns his knuckles white as the wind rakes its fingers through the short strands of his hair. Even over the whistling of the wind in his ears, Ben can hear the rapid beating of his own heart in his chest, though it feels suspiciously closer to his throat for his liking.

How is it possible that he is flying? Briefly, his mind flickers back to the cartoon witches he used to see plastered in storybooks. At once, he is reminded again that this new world is not the ‘fabrication of his own overactive imagination’, as his parents used to tell him when he complained about the ghost in the attic.

Faintly, the sound of excited clapping drifts up to him and instinct forces his eyes back open. Anxiety is quick on his heels as he immediately finds himself looking down to the ground below him, but something else stands out against the stark green backdrop of grass.

Rebekah stands, the only student to remain on the ground, her head craned upward to peer at him. Her eyes, kind and curious and sparkling as though home to their very own galaxy, are trained intently on him.

She follows his every movement against the wind, every turn of his broom is caught with enthusiasm. The Ravenclaw pulses with pure and unadulterated excitement and Ben finds himself drawing energy from her and she jumps on her feet, waving up at him with the widest smile Ben has ever seen adorn her face. Strands of her ink black hair fly into her eyes, but she does not seem to mind, content with simply cheering him on.

In that moment, it does not escape Ben’s notice that the sight, though infinitely welcome, only serves to quicken his heart rate until it begins to race even faster than before.

His eyes have gone starry, glossed over in faint astonishment as Rebekah tells her story. She can feel her lips moving, her vocal cords vibrating in tandem, but as she looks at him she finds that she cannot hear herself speak.

Her cheeks feel hot.

She finishes and Ben grins, it’s giddy and goofy and Rebekah can’t help but offer him one of her own in return.

Wow, he whispers, his eyes glued not to the vast galactic sky that they can afford to see clearly in their place up in the astronomy tower, but to her. I can’t believe Dumbledore actually took special notice of a first year!

Rebekah chuckles and rubs at her wrist bashfully. It’s not like I gave him much of a choice, she whispers back.

At this he simply shakes his head and strangely, he looks as if there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. His smile does not falter, his big brown eyes bright. No, he says, It’s impossible not to notice you.

She’s not ready for it to end.

She’s not ready to return home, to a still and empty house where her parents never laugh and no one ever smiles. She does not want to walk to her room everyday where she has to pass by Jacob’s, untouched and void and not at all the same. She’s not ready to see their faces or look into their eyes and be struck again with the realization that she is not enough.

She’s not ready to continue in a life without her brother.

But as the train whistles in her ears and the breeze blows flower petals into her hair, she knows the choice is not hers. Slowly, she shuffles her way off the platform and wraps her arms delicately around Rowan, the dark strands of her hair tickling her nose.

Her friend grins so wide Rebekah fears her cheeks will sting and giggles out a last goodbye, accompanied with a merry promise to keep in touch. A voice sounds from behind her and Rowan waves her off, skipping over to her family with a youthfulness Rebekah has never seen in her before.

She watches them go with a growing lump in her throat.

She checks her watch.

“Rebekah.”

This time, his voice is small, yet as it curls around the syllables of her name she finds that it is no less affectionate than it always is. The girl turns, her eyes catching his for what feels scarily like the last time.

“Ben—”

He grins when he hears her as if on nothing more than instinct alone and the thought twists a smile onto her own lips as well.

“—I was wondering if I’d see you.”

“Well, here I am.”

“There you are.”

The sun shines above them and under its gracious attention, Ben’s hair glimmers a more golden color as it flickers in the breeze, landing softly against his forehead. Had Rebekah been older or more poetic, she might have equated it to something like gold or freshly bloomed daffodils.

But alas the thought escapes her.

He clears his throat.

“I don’t think I’ll have much downtime when I get back. Mum and Dad will probably have enough questions to last them until the summer is over, but…” His cheeks pink and he rubs at the back of his neck. “I’ll write to you,” He promises. “When I can.”

And with that, he does his best to lift his chin and walk away, leaving her behind. Yet, as she watches him embrace a woman with white-blonde hair and a tall man with a smile just like his, Rebekah can’t seem to muster a single dour thought. She only smiles and waves at him as he stalks away even if he is no longer paying attention.

A gust of hot hair rushes over him as his father opens the door to leave, but something itches at the back of his head and he turns around.

But she is already gone.

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where-dreamers-go · 4 years

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“Not So Complicated” Cameron Frye x Reader

(A/N: Wow! So I was going through some word documents on my computer and found a BUNCH of fanfics I had forgotten about. It’s probably been on here for a little over a year or more. This one for instance was literally almost finished when I reread it. So now I have my first finished Ferris Bueller’s Day Off fanfic! I am SO HAPPY about this!

Teenage Romance ahead.

Word Count: 2,760)

Mister Cameron Frye was such a complicated, conflicted, and little fluff-ball.

It had been roughly three days after the famous day off with himself, his best friend Ferris, and Sloane. That, and he had survived a debated interaction with his cleanly father. Cameron had since returned to school, walking taller than he normally would, with more confidence to each step.

You, on the other hand, had gone to each school day of course. Your mother already knew you had a test that day and you were sick with sinuses two weeks ago. So sadly, you had to deny Ferris’ plea for you to join him in giving Cameron a great day. The only thing was that you left out the part where your mother would have gladly let you take a break from school if it wasn’t for your test that had you been stressing over for days. High school was fun like that.

Back to the familiar tiled halls, was the beginning of yet another day at high school. Birds were chirping and kids were groaning irritatedly at their papers. However, you had better things on your mind. The moment your eyes had spotted that ever familiar figure, your legs took you rushing over to him. Backpack slung over one shoulder, you called out.

“Cameron!”

The young man whipped his head around at the sound of his name, an amused smile spreading across his lips when he spotted you zipping around students towards him.

“You’re back!” You embraced him no sooner you were in arm’s reach.

“Hey,” Cameron greeted, always surprised by your ‘hello’s, and returned your hug tighter than usual.

“How are you?” You asked, pulling out of the hug to walk alongside him and looping your arm around his.

“Better,” he answered with a nod. “Better than I thought.”

He seemed...at ease, something that was foreign to see or consider with him. Given that he was usually antsy with both school and his family life. It was a healthy change.

“Oh, and um, i-if you want a ride home after school, I could take you. Only if you want to though.”

“Really? Yeah! I’d love to. Thank you, Cameron.”

The two of you continued on your way toward your first class of the day without a care in the world. You both eventually had to unlink arms as so you could walk through the doorway without hitting the frame. Since the first day of class, you had elected yourself to sit upfront. It may not be the best seat choice if you wanted to write and pass notes, or talk for that matter, but at least you would never have to squint at the teacher’s writing up on the board. All the while, both Cameron and Ferris sat near the rear end of the class. To be honest, the class was all together boring, especially with the two boys out of earshot. The teacher never gave enough time, in your opinion, for anyone to think of an answer to his questions. Which usually resulted in you feeling utterly frustrated. How were you to ever know if you would arrive at an answer even remotely close enough to the correct one if this was always the case. Not to mention the dull, dragging, and monotone voice that just so happened to exude from the teacher’s mouth.

Throughout the day, at least, you got the occasional bursts of joy striking through the dreary and tedious moments. Such as when you heard the chipper and ever fashionable Sloane before even seeing her. She was happy, as per usual, and with Ferris. A rather healthy and lively Ferris, who was reportedly on his deathbed just the day before. A healthy Ferris who greeted you with both questioning eyes and a knowing smile.

“Hey, (Y/N), did you see Cameron today?” Ferris swaggered up toward you with Sloane beside him.

“Yeah, I did. He seems….happier. Like if suddenly someone switched the stress signal off,” you answered thoughtfully, holding a notebook to your chest.

In fact, you had noticed his confidence had really increased since the last day you had seen him.

While in a class with Cameron, he didn’t even seem to have missed any school because he knew more answers than students who came to school on a regular basis. That was a happy sight for you, to have him happy and involved with his schooling, as opposed to being sick or otherwise miserable. He sat in front of you, which made it great so you could hide behind him if you needed to at any point during the class. Yet copying down notes was a struggle from where you sat. Being that he was a rather tall individual.

The rest of the school day went as usual. Nothing exciting to report except a wall clock that was behind by three minutes. Three. Whole. Minutes.

Some time after school.

“Hey Cam!” You greeted happily while climbing into the backseat of his car.

“Hey (Y/N),” Cameron beamed, a true smile on his face as you settled yourself onto the seat and arranged your backpack.

“No loud, smelly bus for me,” you giggled, buckling your seatbelt automatically.

In no time, Ferris and Sloane came running up to Cameron’s car, arriving later because they were alone. Sloane hopped in first, seating herself next to you before Ferris slid into the passenger’s seat. When Cameron did begin driving away and school was far out of site, you found yourself admiring Cameron as he drove. As per your luck, Sloane had caught sight of this and raised her eyebrows at you until you had felt her eyeing you. Only then did she send you a smirk because of your actions. One that the two boys failed to notice.

When you all rolled up to Sloane’s house, she climbed out of the backseat and hopped out onto the grass beside the road. After closing the door, she leaned into the open window and kissed Ferris lovingly.

“Bye,” she waved cutely before spinning on her heel to walk up to her front door.

“Hey, Cam,” Ferris turned to his best friend quickly.

“Yeah?” Cameron eyed him suspiciously.

“Can you drop me off first? I need to do something before my parents get back home.”

“It ca--?”

“No, it can’t wait.” Ferris patted the dashboard, “Let’s go.”

A few complicated hand gestures and facial expressions later, the car was moving forward again.

The rest of the car ride toward Ferris’ house was full of jokes and laughs about the school day. Even up to Ferris somehow getting information of how the Dean of Students was seen all muddied up with his clothes torn, having to take a ride on one of the school buses. Oh, what a sight that must have been. Eventually, it had taken place just after Ferris had ran home the other day.

As the three of you arrived at Ferris’, Cameron rolled the car to a stop. All the while Ferris’ mouth had not stopped.

“Ferris.” Cameron said.

Once he had finally stopped talking, sort of, he got out of the car, but not without a few final words to the pair of you.

“Drive safely. I want to hear about everything.” In typical Ferris fashion, he left you with questions.

With a laugh, you hopped up into the passenger’s seat, only then waving to a smirking Ferris.

He was always up to something.

There was something different about Cam. Something good, aside from his new form of confidence and almost new outlook in multiple perspectives. Cam was just not wanting to be afraid anymore. He wanted to live his life. To be the one to have his own say in what he wanted to do.

With the driveway to your family’s home in sight, Cam parked on the side of the street in front of your house, just under the shade of a tree. But he did something else this time. Shutting off the car, an action that caught your attention quickly. As you peered over at him, you saw Cameron become nervous. It was in his eyes, and in the way he was sitting and looking straight out of the windshield. Yet determined to let you know whatever was on his mind.

“I wish you were with me when Ferris dragged me around Chicago, even though I know you hate missing class.” Cam finally spoke up, his eyes staring down at the dashboard.

You smiled.

“You’re always there when I need you. When anyone needs you. I don’t know how you do it. You’re great in school, your family understands you—.”

“For the most part.” You interjected.

“Right, um.”

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s fine.” Cameron’s knuckles turned white from his grip on the steering wheel. “You’re honest and funny.”

“Thank you.”

“…you’re welcome…I….I love everything about you. Your kindness, your ability to find the positive in situations… It’s taken me so long to tell you.”

Advice from the wise, young Ferris rung in your ears: You only get so many chances, (Y/N). When you find one, take it.

You leaned over and snatched his hands off of the steering wheel to bring them under your chin. Slowly, his head turned in your direction, and you linked your fingers between his assuringly.

“Cam,” you said softly, “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“I....I couldn’t just tell...you,” his eyes were focused on your intertwined hands.

“But I feel the same way about you,” you whispered. “And how I love your smile, especially when I had some reason to its appearance. I love how intelligent you are, your bravery, your sense of humor that has me laughing until I’m practically crying, your gorgeous blue eyes that bring me in like the tide, and so much about you that I can’t get enough of.”

Smiling, you pulled his hands and placed them on your sides. Helping yourself to leaning closer to him, but up against the center console between the two seats.

Cam was fumbling with quiet words, still so affected as he was processing your words that were only about him. As his mind meandered around, you reached over, fingers hooking over the neckline of his shirt. You could hear his shallow breaths as you directed your fingers, slipping up his neck to cradle his jaw in your hands. Peering at his lips for a moment before looking back up into Cameron’s wide eyes that flickered rapidly between your eyes and lips.

“It’s your call, Cameron,” you whispered, breath cascading along his parted lips.

In the time it took you to blink, Cameron’s lips were on yours, slightly chapped, and a bit too rushed on impact. Yet more than anything it was sweet; mouths barely moving in their meeting of warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out as he ended the kiss, his hands wrinkling your shirt.

“It was fine, Cam,” you remarked, quickly bringing your lips back to his, slower than the first time. With your nervous level diminishing, you slid your fingers up into his brown locks, massaging his scalp with each pass.

Another breath left him, allowing you a chance to suckle his bottom lip until he began copying your movements by bringing your bottom lip between his, adding a light graze of his teeth. Cameron’s left hand abandoned its exploration of your shirt and to unbuckle his seatbelt that restrained him before returning to your back. For once in his life, he had some ounce of say in what he was doing even if that meant a shared activity that sent swarms of butterflies into his stomach.

Your hands smoothed down from his hair to his shirt-covered chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart. All of your worries about school and the future were set aside as you were solely focused on how almost unbelievable it was to have Cameron return your affections. Your happiness was practically bubbling at the surface and causing you to smile into the numerous and various kisses exchanged with Cam.

A car drove by and nothing else mattered. Not the car, not how you were both running out of air in the car, or that more time had passed than you both realized.

“I love you so much, Cameron,” your voice hardly above a whisper as you rested foreheads together. “I’m so, so proud of you. Everything.” Praising him and having no nerves as you pecked a few kisses to his reddened lips.

“I love you too, (Y/N),” Cameron spoke through your kisses, his hands secure on your waist to prevent himself from shaking at the exchange of words.

The internal temperature of the car seemed warmer and perhaps stuffier than before, but you both continued going in for more kisses with smiles on your lips. Not a care in the world, with the exception of one another.

“I should probably go inside and do my homework,” your words tickling Cameron’s chin.

“Probably,” he breathed out heavily as you mouthed underneath his jaw, his eyelids drooping.

“Will you be alright going home?” You asked as your lips found an interest in his earlobe.

“Actually,” Cameron swallowed hard, fighting the urge between telling you details of the discussion with his dad or pulling you onto his lap; hating the physical car space between you. “I’m staying at Ferris’ house for a while....until things settle down at home.”

“That’s very nice of his parents to let you stay over.”

Suspending the kisses for a bit to face him, you wanted to read his expressions better than if your lips continued their path along Cameron’s skin.

“Yeah, Ferris can talk them into anything. No matter what, they believe him.”

“Heh, my parents can read me like a book, but I’m sure they’d let you stay over too if you ever needed. They really like you. I mean really like you.”

Your words brought a smile to Cameron’s face, glad to know that he had made a positive impression on them whenever he did see them.

He had visited your parents’ home a few times. Although most were school related with studying or helping him catch up on missed classes. Then again, all of the visits involved school one way or another considering that was the main priority. Yet that didn’t mean you didn’t have a good time when Cameron did visit, being able to see a less tense and stressed side of him.

You tore your gaze away from Cameron and checked the time on your watch, yelping immediately after.

“I need to get inside,” you said quickly, panic zipping through your veins as you scrambled to grab your backpack from the backseat. “I’ll see you tomorrow, drive safely,” you pressed a chaste kiss to Cameron’s lips.

“I can pick you up tomorrow morning, if you’d like. That way you don’t have to ride the bus so early,” he offered, his fingers tucking some of your hair behind your ears while he still had the chance.

“I would very much like that,” you grinned.

“See you tomorrow.”

You snatched his hand and placed a light kiss to his knuckles before turning around to get out of the car.

Once up to the door, you looked back to wave at Cameron before you went inside, shutting and locking the door behind you. A giggle of delight escaping as you leaned against the front door, until you jumped upon hearing a familiar voice yelling a very distinctive WOOOO from the inside of a car.

“Oh, Cam.”

. . .

“I don’t believe it.” Ferris stood by his front door bewildered.

“Believe it, Ferris,” Cameron chuckled to himself because he was still fully up in the clouds with (Y/N) on his mind.

“But you--she....You two kissed? Like actual lips touching each other’s?”

“I know what a kiss is, Ferris, and I’m driving her to school tomorrow.”

“Wh--You....wait, I thought you were driving me to school.”

“You can sit in the back,” Cam laughed as he made his way further into the house.

“The back?” Ferris gasped, a hand over his chest.

“Let it go, Ferris.”

“I’m your best friend!”

“You’ve been bugging me to ask (Y/N) out for three years, you can sit in the backseat for one day.”

“Just in the morning! Then she sits in the back.”

“Thank you, Ferris.”

Ferris turned away from Cameron and smirked.

“I knew my plan would work perfectly. You should be thanking me too.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

#cameron frye #cameron frye x reader #cameron frye imagine #cameron frye imagines #Ferris Bueller's Day Off #ferris bueller's day off imagine #Cameron Frye fanfiction #where dreamers go #happy new year #Ferris Bueller #ferris bueller imagine

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years

Text

AUgust Day 1 - Coffee Shop

Content: brief alcohol mention, bullying mention, divorce mention, fluff

Words: 3,456

Nobody is quite sure when the café became their haunt.

It couldn’t have been when Logan suggested making the front left table, the one beside the large potted fern and next to the window, their designated study space. He was determined to drag Patton through Geometry if it was the last thing he did (although, he would remind them, he would really prefer it not be the last thing he did), and Patton was paying him back by bribing Roman with chocolate cookies to tutor Logan in literature. Back then, the café had been a convenient place to spread books over a table, to spend an hour complaining that Shakespeare knew far too many words for his own good, to spend another complaining that Euclid was far more interested in circles and straight lines than was entirely healthy. It hadn’t exactly been somewhere they wanted to go: nobody, Logan included, wanted to leave at the end of a seven hour school day and immediately study more, no matter how good the hot chocolate was.

It wasn’t really their haunt when one of Patton’s moms had left out of the blue - it had just been somewhere they could sit and comfort their friend, Virgil with his arm around the tall boy’s shoulders as he shook, Roman bribing his then-boyfriend with kisses to get Patton extra cream on his hot chocolate, Logan torn between scolding Roman for making out with Remy over the counter and trying to find the right words to say to Patton. There hadn’t been any ‘right words’, of course - but his efforts had been met with a huge, tearful hug. They had all slipped into the same side of the booth that afternoon, Virgil with his scalding coffee and six sugars, Patton with his unbearably creamy hot chocolate, Logan with his mint tea, Roman with his raspberry frappé (Logan insisted that it was unethical that Remy give him free drinks just because they occasionally kissed, but Roman argued that they kissed slightly more than occasionally, and anyway, Logan’s dad gave him free drinks whenever they kissed, and Logan countered with the firm statement that this wasn’t the time for ‘your parent’ jokes, then threw a packet of salt at Roman when he cocked an eyebrow and replied, “that’s what he said last night”).

By the day in their junior year when Roman dragged himself there half an hour after than the rest, lip split, eye blackened, and limping and they hauled him into their booth and fussed over him, they had been going almost every day after school. It was where they blew off steam, complained about teachers and their peers and their homework and their extra curriculars and Logan’s college admissions essay and Patton’s mom’s new girlfriend and his other mom’s new boyfriend; that evening, it was where they took a dishcloth full of ice from Roman’s ex to press against the swelling on his face, and where they borrowed the first aid box from the other part timer and stuck plasters all over the grazes on his knees and elbows. Virgil had sworn vengeance against the seniors that had taken issue with Roman’s rainbow-dyed hair, Logan had moved a finger slowly back and forward in front of Roman’s nose before finally announcing that he (probably) didn’t have a concussion, Patton had made bad puns about the coffee (“it tastes like mud! Well, I suppose it was only ground this morning…”) until Roman had smiled again. Then he had sworn when his lip cracked open again and more blood trickled down his chin, and Patton had pulled their portable swear jar out of his bag and tapped it menacingly against the table until Roman had dropped a coin into it.

When Virgil’s acceptance letter arrived, he didn’t bother messaging anybody: he knew they’d be at their booth in the café, waiting eagerly for his news. He had thrown himself down on one of the cracked vinyl seats and tossed the opened envelope on the table. Only Logan had bothered opening it to read the words. Patton and Roman had taken one look at his beaming face and thrown themselves across the table to hug him. His letter had been the last to arrive, and they had all known how anxious he had been about it. When they had eventually emerged from the hug pile, Virgil had raised an eyebrow at the empty table, wondering why drinks hadn’t gone flying, and Logan had smirked broadly before pointing first at the lack of baristas behind the counter, and then at the café bathroom. When a scarlet Remy and an Emile who was making no attempt to hide his cheshire-cat grin finally emerged, they had each ordered a coffee, and Patton had pulled a flask from his bag and discreetly topped up each mug with vodka. “We’re celebrating,” he had explained earnestly, but nobody had been about to argue. All Virgil had wanted to know was how long he had been carrying the flask around and waiting for the opportunity, and he had sheepishly admitted that he had swiped it from his mom’s cabinet over a month ago and had been carrying it around with him ever since.

In between those big moments, the café had seen all the little ones, too. It had watched Virgil finally shrug off his black hoodie and replace it with the purple one his dad had bought him when he started therapy; it had watched Logan pour over countless charts and biographies before finally giving up and flipping a coin to choose between medicine and engineering, knowing that he would be thrilled to be doing either. It had watched Roman bury himself in scripts as he auditioned for school play after school play; it had watched Patton grow his hair long, cut it short, and then grow it out again. It had watched Logan shyly voice the idea that he might be gay, to be greeted with Virgil slinging an arm around his shoulder and telling him to join the club, Roman shooting him with finger guns, and Patton nod enthusiastically. It had watched Virgil flit from music production to programming to archeology, his passion never wavering as it changed forms. It had watched Roman moon over Remy, watched them flirt and date and break up as amicably as ever two people have, watched them flirt even when they were no longer interested in one another. It had watched Patton teach everyone to play poker, and to proceed to absolutely annihilate them every time after, and then count the buttons they used as chips back into a jar as though they were made of gold.

This evening, it watches the four of them sprawl in the booth, a milkshake the same mint green as Patton’s tie on the table in front of him, Roman’s crimson jacket a twisted mess on the seat beside him and his white shirt rumpled and untucked, Logan’s clothing as neat as ever but his hair no longer slicked back as it had been at the start of the evening, instead falling over his face and into his eyes, Virgil cradling a cup of black coffee (six sugars) in his hands, socked feet curled up beneath him, his dress shoes empty under the table.

It’s almost midnight - by all rights, the café shouldn’t be open. It isn’t, not really: the sign on the door is flipped around to closed, and everybody who was supposed to be working that afternoon has gone home. Remy, however, has a key - there are benefits to having his parents own a small coffee shop, after all - and let the six of them in; he’s leaning against the back wall, chatting quietly to Emile, occasionally blushing crimson at something his datefriend says. They dressed to match: a handkerchief the same hot pink as Emile’s ballgown is folded over the breast pocket of Remy’s leather jacket (he flatly refused to wear a proper suit jacket). The top few buttons of Remy’s shirt are undone, the edges of several hickies visible around his collar; Emile leans forward and rests a hand on Remy’s shoulder, running a thumb slowly over one, and Remy goes red again. For all his bravado, Remy is very easy to tease.

Smirking, Roman turns his attention back to his friends. Patton is watching him - he winks at him, and the tips of the taller man’s ears go slightly pink. Logan is doing an impression of their head teacher. If he hadn’t been so set on becoming a doctor, Roman thinks, Logan could have made a killing on the stage: he never misses a single tick in his impersonations. Virgil is resting his chin in his hands now, empty cup on the table in front of him as he watches ‘Mr. Hammond’ deliver his end-of-year speech with wide, coffee-dark eyes.

“... done well, very well, superbly well, in fact,” Logan continues. His tongue darts briefly over his lower lip. “These past four years will be ones you, all of you, I am sure, remember for the rest of your lives. Tonight -” he slips his glasses from his face, polishes them briefly on his tie, and then balances them precariously on the end of his nose once more. “Tonight is the time to celebrate your accomplishments, your friendships, the lasting bonds you have made here at Kilahaede High. To the class of -” he licks his lower lip once more, and Roman imagines leaning in and kissing him. “- the class of 2019!”

Patton applauds enthusiastically, and Roman joins in, nudging Logan gently with his shoulder as the bespectacled man allows his posture to straighten once more, Mr. Hammond’s mannerisms dropping away. Virgil is grinning lazily, the caffeine clearly doing very little to counteract the weeks of late nights and early mornings as their final exams had loomed, broken over them, and then passed by.

They are quiet for several long seconds, during which Virgil shuffles a little closer to Patton and rests his head on his shoulder. He’s so relaxed that he doesn’t even flinch when a clatter echoes through the quiet room; only Roman glances around, rolling his eyes when he sees that Remy, clearly distracted by Emile’s tongue in his mouth, has managed to knock a tin of tea bags from the countertop.

Then Patton speaks up. “Feels like the end of an era, doesn’t it?”

“Our time in highschool is not really long enough to be called an ‘era’, Pat.” Logan removes his glasses, cleans them properly with a small cloth he keeps in his pocket, and settles them firmly on the bridge of his nose. Roman rolls his eyes and nudges him.

“I just meant… Everything’s gonna change now. We’re not kids anymore.” He’s staring at his milkshake, half finished now, as though it holds every answer he has ever wanted.

Virgil shifts a little, and Patton wraps an arm around him almost without thinking. “Yeah. Things are gonna be different. But that’s not a bad thing, you know, Pat?” Patton nods automatically.

Leaning across the table, Roman takes one of Patton’s hands and squeezes it between his own. “And we’re not going anywhere, padre. We’ve got all summer together before anybody moves away, and every holiday after that…”

“Virgil and yourself are even going to the same college,” Logan adds. “Roman and I will be in cities adjacent to the two of you. This summer won’t be the last we see of one another…”

“I know… I’m gonna miss this place, though.” Roman isn’t surprised to see Patton’s eyes begin to water, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. He slides out of his and Logan’s side of their booth and slips in beside Patton, so that he’s sandwiched between him and Virgil, and wraps an arm around his waist. The café has truly become their place now, and none of them can really imagine not coming here to relax after a long day. “I’m gonna miss you guys.” Patton finishes in a whisper, wiping the sleeve of his pale blue jacket over his face.

“Why, Patton,” Roman jokes automatically, “It almost sounds as though you like us.”

Logan rolls his eyes.

Patton butts his head gently against Roman’s shoulder. “I do like you, dummy. All of you. So much. You’re my best friends.”

They’re all silent again, a comfortable silence, one that drapes around them like a blanket at one of their many movie nights.

This time, it’s Roman that speaks up - he doesn’t think about it before opening his mouth, but that’s pretty normal for him. “I like you too. All of you. Like, as more than friends.” The silence that follows is slightly more charged than before, but still not uncomfortable. Not quite.

“Like… You want to date us?” Virgil. Roman had half thought he had fallen asleep, but apparently not.

“That’s the gist of it, Hot Topic.”

“Aw, you think I’m hot.”

“Given that Roman just expressed a desire to date you, Virgil, I don’t see why that fact causes you surprise.” Logan is looking at the three of them. An outsider might say that his expression is unreadable, but Roman knows him well enough to catch the way his eyes flicker between the three of them, the way his fingers are pressing lightly against the plastic table between them.

Roman is about to say something back when he feels fingers against the back of his neck, and then Patton’s hand is in his hair and tugging his head toward him. The kiss is sweet, gentle - Patton taste like mint and ice cream and -

“Whiskey? Have you been drinking?”

Patton looks vaguely guilty, then shrugs. “Just a mouthful after the dance.”

“And you didn’t sh-”

“Wait, time out.” Virgil sits up properly now, staring incredulously at him; a look of mild amusement has crossed Logan’s face, twitching the corners of his mouth skyward. “Patton kisses you, and all you can do is ask if he’s been drinking?”

“I tasted alcohol,” Roman protests, but the rest of his words splutter into silence when Virgil practically climbs into Patton’s lap to kiss him.

Their kiss is significantly longer than Roman’s, and he’s almost beginning to get jealous when they finally break apart. Patton is still grinning, glasses slightly crooked, but Virgil just nods as though kissing Patton is something he does every day. “Yep. Definitely whiskey. Shut your mouth, Princey, you’ll catch flies.”

Roman collects his jaw from the floor and attaches it back to his face, but almost loses it again when Virgil leans in and presses a small kiss to his cheek. “That’s better. You’re much more handsome when you’re not clueless.”

“I’m never clueless!” Roman protests, and Virgil merely rolls his eyes.

Logan clears his throat, and all of them look up, Patton with the slightly dazed expression of somebody who had forgotten that there was a third person at the table. A pink blush is creeping up Logan’s throat. When he realises that he has everybody’s attention, it spreads to his cheeks. “You are… Um, you are all aware of the strain that long distance relationships put on their participants, correct?”

Roman can’t help the grin that’s spreading across his face. “Are you aware that I don’t give a damn as long as I get to kiss you?”

“Besides, kiddo, we have all summer before we move. You were just saying how close we were gonna be…” Patton is shifting, and after a second Roman realises that he’s trying to move up to make space on their side of the booth for Logan to join them. He follows, and the three of them squish against the window.

Logan hesitates.

Then Virgil reaches out, managing to grab Logan’s tie from across the table and tugging him forward slightly. “Just get over here, nerd.”

Logan does, tugging his navy blue tie out of the grip of Virgil’s painted nails so that he can move around the table without strangling himself or abandoning his straight-backed, perfect posture.

That posture evaporates a moment later when Roman reaches for him, resting one hand gently on Logan’s cheek. He can feel Virgil’s hand resting lightly on his shoulder, can feel one of Patton’s arms around his waist, can feel sunlight melting slowly over his insides. He guides Logan closer as the dark haired man slides onto the seat, pausing when their faces are only millimeters apart. Logan’s breath dusts his lips when he parts them to speak. “May I kiss you, Pocket Protector?”

Logan’s eyes flicker over his face. Then he nods, and Roman leans forward to press their mouths together. Like his kiss with Patton, it is gentle, warm, affectionate: there is no slide of tongues or clacking of teeth, and Roman wouldn’t have it any other way. Patton sighs behind him and he feels Virgil’s hand tighten slightly, further rumpling his dress shirt - when he and Logan draw apart for breath, they turn to find that Virgil is kissing Patton again.

Roman laces his fingers between Logan’s as he waits for them to surface, and Patton is the first to speak when they finally do. Virgil looks as though he’s seeing stars - Roman has the feeling that Patton is a far better kisser than he would have expected. “Are we dating now?”

“I believe that is the case, Pat.” Logan looks as though he’s about to lean across Roman to kiss Patton as well, but pauses when Virgil tilts his head.

“The four of us?”

“Duh, Wuthering Frights.” Roman nudges his shoulder gently. “You know I don’t like half-measures, right? I can’t imagine only picking one of you…”

“Polyamory, whilst not common, is not unheard of, Virgil. In fact, there are multiple studies-”

“Ey, Sanders!” Remy cuts across the start of Logan’s speech with all the tact of a herd of rhinoceroses, slamming his elbows down on the table. His shirt is all but completely unbuttoned now, eyes bright, face flushed, and there are several new hickies on throat. “Past closing time. Get out.”

Emile is leaning against the door behind the counter, the one that leads to the staircase to the part of the building where Remy lives. Thair hair is ruffled, glasses askew, and quite obviously staring at Remy’s ass as their boyfriend leans over the table to grab the empty coffee cup and the milkshake glass.

Logan and Virgil raise single, cool eyebrows at Remy, who has never had the grace to look ashamed in his life and certainly doesn’t now. Patton smirks at Emile over Remy’s shoulder.

“Whatever happened to mates before dates, dude?” Roman argues, though he’s getting up as he speaks. “I can’t believe you’re kicking us out just so you can get laid.”

“Like y’all weren’t about to get busy right here by the window,” Remy quips back, and Virgil responds with a time saving gesture that relies heavily on his middle finger as he slips his feet back into his shoes. “See you tomorrow, gurl. Call me with all the deets, yeah? Ciao!”

Roman barely has time to grab his jacket as Remy herds them toward the door.

The door slams behind them. A second later the lights flick off.

The four of them exchange a long look, Patton clearly struggling to keep a straight face, Logan faring only slightly better until Roman snorts. Then they’re all laughing, and Patton is clinging to him for balance, and Virgil is practically doubled over and leaning on the wall. It wasn’t really that funny, but they’re floating on the sugar high that is happiness, and every time they start to calm down, one of them snorts and sets them all off again.

Eventually, their laughter stops, and Roman finds himself with Virgil’s hand tucked in his left, Patton squeezing his right. Logan is on Virgil’s other side, one arm draped over his shoulders as they turn their feet in the direction of Roman’s home - they were planning on sleeping over together already.

As they round the corner, the café disappearing into the night, Patton sighs a soft, happy sound. “It feels right, you know?”

“What does, Patton-cake?” Roman stands on tiptoe to press a small kiss to Patton’s temple.

“That that happened there.” Patton tugs his hand from Roman’s and wraps his arm around his waist instead. “It’s our place. It’s only right we start a new era in our café.”

“Again, Patton, I’m not sure that you can count this as an ‘era’ by the official definition,” Logan starts, and the four of them are absorbed into the caffeine city to the sound of his voice, the simple pleasure of being in each other's presence, and the sweetness of something new on their lips and in their hearts.

#LAMP #remile #fluff #AUgust 2021

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