#//OKAY but i really should make white-chocolate strawberries again those were [chef's kiss]

[keeps-ache]

totally forgot what i wanted to do because i have just been overtaken by the very sudden frustration of eating chocolate-covered strawberries

[yuzukult]

candy stars || baekhyun & reader

title: candy stars pairing: reader x baekhyun genre: romance, soulmate!au words: ~5k+ prompt: soulmates unlock one of the five senses for people, some finally get the opportunity to feel, to see, to taste, to hear, or to smell. but what if you never find yours? notes: i decided i would make a soulmate story for each member of exo!! all stemming from a similar universe as city lights & under the moonlight. :) 

The wind that hits your face is brisk, the trademark characteristic for the November air, tinting your cheeks pink, pink like the juices of strawberries that you bite into, dripping onto your palms and sliding down your arms. But the pinks don’t signify the same thing— your cheeks are stained like a winter heather, growing in the colder months and bringing the only color in a garden with a white blanket that drapes over, and the strawberries are just a reminder of the warmer days, something that seems so out of reach.

Someone without a soulmate might lack this quality— to be able to see these shades or feel the changes of weather. But those senses weren’t absent from your life, but rather the taste of the strawberry, the sweetness that it spews and bursts on your tongue. Instead, there’s nothing. Emptiness is what fills you, without the understanding of what sugar is and what people mean when they crave the treats or when there’s a comparison to a love that’s like confectionery.

Cups filled with hot chocolate steams out from the covers, the scent saturating your nose. You knew what it smelled like, the sweetness, but once bringing the warm liquid to your lips, the expectations for the taste dissipates.

“You sure you don’t want to try some?” Chanyeol asks, lifting up the styrofoam cup in his hand, offering some of the delicious goodness to you. “It tastes good.”

“I assume that it tastes good. Did you already forget? I don’t know what sweet is, Chanyeol.” Rolling your eyes at the older male, you stuff your hands into the pockets of your puffy jacket. “You only have one younger sister and you don’t even remember what qualities she’s lacking?”

“Other than the fact you have no soul and you’re lacking the quality of being a decently nice person—“

You shove your older sibling as he winces, hand trying to stabilize the drink but fails, some spilling out. “Hey!”

“If you maybe weren’t so rude—“

“Are you two really fighting again?” A familiar voice chimes in, snapping both of your heads in the direction of the melodic sound.

There he stands, handsome as ever, with his amber locks flowing in the route of the breeze. Hearing his voice again brought chills down your spine, warming your claimed cold heart, causing you to swallow. “Baekhyun, you’re back.” He’s gifting you with his soft smiles, so beautiful that if it were awarded for the impact it brings into a room, he’d win.

“As per requested by two out of the three Park siblings, I am here. You wanted me in Seoul and you got me, so, what did the two of you have in store for me?”

Baekhyun was always Chanyeol’s best friend, from beginning to end, hopefully. They’d have each other’s backs like the friendship between two main characters of a sitcom, constantly glued at each other’s sides until University hit. Baekhyun decided to go out of his comfort zone, residing somewhere in the outskirts of the countryside. Chanyeol stayed near home, or your difficult mother would be left alone with you after your eldest sister eloped with her now husband.

There was always something inside of you that had crushed on Baekhyun, but you knew that being Chanyeol’s little sister meant it was off limits. Nonetheless, you kept your focus on finding your soulmate instead, eager to find sweetness on your tongue.

“Should we head out for a quick bite?” Baekhyun suggests, nuzzling his nose into the scarf that wraps around his neck cozily. “We can catch up and plan everything there.”

The two of you agree, following Baekhyun whilst he raves about a cafe that he encountered over yelp and instagram one day. He states, “it’ll make you rethink what desserts you actually like,” and you want to remind him that you can’t taste sweets, but the eager expression on his face halts you from doing so.

Entering in the cafe, the bell rings simultaneously as the door opens in invitation. The aroma of the baked goods inundated your sense of smell to that point you can almost feel yourself relishing in the flavors until you come back to reality, recollecting that it doesn’t exist for you. Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s expressions were opposite from yours, inhibiting pure bliss.

“Ah, I totally forgot. My little sister here, the party pooper, doesn’t have a sense of taste.” Chanyeol glances over at you, nose and cheeks red from the harsh winter weather, gaze hinting for desperate approval. “Are you okay with eating here?”

“Well, we’re already here, aren’t we?”

“We could always go for something else, if you want. Is it just taste in general or a flavor?” Baekhyun jumps in, eyes wary. “There’s a pizza place next door if you’d prefer.”

“No,” You shake your head in response, bouncing on the balls of your feet in order to gain some warmth. “We can eat here. I can’t taste sugary things. You guys seem like you want to try it, and I want to enjoy the looks on your faces.”

“What’d you order?” You and Chanyeol are seated beside each other, previously waiting patiently for Baekhyun to bring the tray of drinks and pastries. Your mouth waters at how beautifully crafted they are and the pleasant odor that fills the room.

“I got the famous strawberry smoothies for the both of us,” He says, sitting across from the two of you, placing the glass cups onto the table. “And for you,” he then gestures at the dark iced liquid that drips in condensation in your view, “iced americano. It’s bitter, but I figured you’d at least be able to enjoy something rather than... nothing.”

On the tray sits several different types of pastries, over salivating the mouths to those who have a sweet tooth. In the midst of the conversation, Chanyeol and Baekhyun discussed the ideas of where to go for their annual winter trip, and you couldn’t help but trail your eyes all over Baekhyun.

He’s aged since you’ve last seen him— he’s grown into those baby cheeks of his, well, kind of, but he has upgraded from cute to handsome. After he’d slip off his thick camel trench coat and hangs it over the back of his chair, you’d become aware of how even a plain black t-shirt is snug on his frame and the sight of him makes you breathless. Baekhyun was the epitome of a character in a film where he’s the main character’s brother’s best friend that is just a little too old for you, yet a guy everyone falls for.

In this film— he’s your brother’s best friend who’s overly kind, shooting warm smiles your way, and for some odd reason, always there whenever you need him the most. Baekhyun was a dream, a dream that would never come true, and you knew this because being near him never unlocked your sense of sweetness. There was a bit of disappointment when you came to that recognition but nonetheless, he was the candy on the highest shelf you’d come to admire, desiring it but knowing it was out of reach.

“What do you think of the raspberry croissant?”

“Who would’ve thought that people would put raspberry and croissant together? This is... truly an art.”

A light hearted laugh escapes from Baekhyun’s grin, shaking his head at your brother’s response. “Dude, it’s just raspberry jam and a croissant, I’m sure plenty of places have it. I’m talking about how they made this— like, how soft yet crispy it is and the jam alone is just...” fingers pointed and pressed together in his hands, he gives it a chef’s kiss, “... perfection.”

Tearing a piece of the pastry off from Chanyeol’s hand as your brother reacts with a whimper, he holds it by your mouth with his own open, gesturing you to do the same. “Open up.”

“Why?” You question, raising a brow. “Because, even though you can’t taste it doesn’t mean it hurts to try. Open wide.”

You think it’s pointless, Baekhyun’s pursuit, but you can never say no to him so you comply, mouth slightly agape as he pushes the pastry in between your lips.

And for a moment, you almost thought you tasted something new.

Your taste buds tingle, sparking something within before the sweetness disappeared, causing your heart to race. The two men watched you in complexity as you grabbed Chanyeol’s drink, attempting to regain that feeling again.

“What’s wrong?” Baekhyun asks, brows furrowed in confusion. “Did it have a funny taste?”

Sipping the smoothie through the straw, your expectations disappeared once again when the only outcome of it was the cold liquid going down your throat. “I... swore I was able to taste the sweetness.”

“How do you know that it was sweet?”

“It’s the only flavor I’ve never had before.”

“Oh please,” Chanyeol interjects, cheeks full of the pastry. “If you could taste that sense right now, that would mean Baekhyun is your soulmate. That could never happen!”

Walking down the streets of Seoul, Chanyeol stops by a shop, actively looking for a gift for his lovely girlfriend, leaving you and Baekhyun standing by the exit of the store, waiting patiently.

“Speaking of... I never knew what quality you lacked for not meeting your soulmate. What is it, Baek?” He hums for a moment, playing with some of the knick knacks that sit on the shop shelves. “I can’t smell.”

“Wait— you can’t smell? At all?”

He shakes his head, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his trench coat. “Nope, nothing. That’s why I wear a shit ton of deodorant and try to go easy on the cologne. I can’t tell what’s too much.” How could Baekhyun not be able to smell? He loved food— always moaning at what you assumed was the pleasant aromas that filled the room, but now when you think about it, you never noticed how he never talked about the scent of things.

“But... you always smell so good,” You blurt, cheeks flushing crimson when you realize what you said. “I mean... you smell good whenever you walk by and I get a whiff of you.”

He chuckles, voice smooth and thick like honey, music to your ears. “Do I? I never knew what ‘natural smell’ I had. I heard people have it but I’ve never been able to actually... you know, experience that.”

Your brother had a majorly contrasting experience compared to you and Baekhyun— he didn’t lack any of his senses. In fact, he’s part of the portion of the population that possessed a marking, resembling one that his own soulmate has. 

Chanyeol and Baekhyun were a textbook example of the outcomes of finding your soulmate. Chanyeol got to meet his, and despite the fact he rejected the belief that she truly was his mate, he eventually caved and fell in love with her. However, he never lacked anything. He just had a marking in resemblance to hers— the only identification he had to determine if she was his soulmate. But Baekhyun was the same age as your brother and hadn’t even gone close to meeting his. There were people who never got to meet their ‘the one’ but found love elsewhere, close in comparison. It wasn’t impossible to fall in love with someone who isn’t your mate, but who wouldn’t want to meet their soulmate?

“We found your soulmate.”

“What?”

You think, maybe it was a good idea you signed up for that research group on the flier that hung in the public bathroom stall of your university with a link to their website. If this was legitimately your soulmate, a session on the toilet was the beginning of how you found the true love of your life.

“Park...” The worker on the other line hesitated, reading what you assume is on the piece of paper resting in front of her before she says your name. “We are about 95% sure this person is your soulmate. But the problem is... he’s on his deathbed.”

“Excuse me?” Death bed? What did she mean? You’d just found out that someone knows who your soulmate is and they’re already telling you that he’s dying? “He’s... sick?”

“Yes,” she says, voice filled with concern and empathy. “It’s actually how we found out. His medical records are in the system, and we tried to match it to what was in your DNA from the research study you signed up for, and the soulmate component matched.”

You’re quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond with so much information being thrown at you. It was difficult to absorb. “So... now what? I lose a soulmate?”

“Well... we suggest you to at least meet him. Spend his last moments with him, and get to know who he is. He lacks the sense of taste for sweetness too, you know. Maybe... you both can get to experience it for the first and last time.”

First and last. All your life, you thought meeting your soulmate would lead you to the direction of feeling fulfilled— filled with awakened taste buds, traveling the world and being able to eat foods that you’d never been able to have before.

But that’s gone. All of that is gone. Your soulmate apparently only has 2 months left to live. You’d have to come to terms that once those two months are up, you really won’t be able to do those things again.

“How are you feeling?” Baekhyun asks, sitting on the stool by your kitchen island, fingers tapping anxiously against the granite top. He never fails to hop on the first train back to Seoul when you needed someone by your side. “You’re supposed to go meet him at the hospital this afternoon, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, drinking the tea that Chanyeol had finished brewing for you, deciding that he would be gentler with you today after finding out the news. “I was told he was on the verge of death the other day, but they were able to pull him out before they lost him. But after that, he told the doctors and nurses he didn’t want to be saved anymore. So... he has two months left.”

“Even when they told him they found his soulmate?” You nod slowly, tiredness evident in your eyes. “I guess it isn’t worth fighting anymore. How can I blame him though? He’s been sick for years. I can only imagine the pain and suffering he has been through.”

“Uh, hi.” You choke up after knocking on the window of the door quietly. “I’m.. uh,”

“My soulmate,” The man finishes, voice hoarse. He sounds gentle and kind, but his face shone exhaustion and ache. “I’m happy you decided you wanted to meet me, in spite of the selfish decision I made.”

“It’s okay to be selfish,” You retort, gifts in hand as you approach to the side of his bed. “You’ve been suffering for so long.”

“If only I met you sooner,” He says with a soft smile, and just the sight alone made it feel like all your worries had gone away. He’s beautiful, regardless of the state he’s in, and you could only imagine what he looked like when he was up and going. Skin pale as ice and lips chapped from the treatments, he looks cold and frozen, but right when he tugged the edges of his mouth upwards for you, you’re the one who melts. “Then there would’ve been something worth fighting for. Right now, it’s too unbearable. I hope you forgive me—“

“Don’t say that,” you quickly interject, taking the seat next to him. “I could never hate you. You’re my soulmate, how could I?”

“You won’t get to taste the sweetness again when I go.” He says shakily, eyes tearing up as you lean over to swipe your thumb against the skin of his cheek, the wetness smearing away, “It’s okay. I get to try it just for a little bit, and that’s all that matters. I got to see you, I got to taste the flavor that people describe good things as. When you are finally at peace, I go back to where I was before, yes, but I got to meet you and that makes it all worthwhile.”

You two of you spent almost everyday together. Eventually, he officially introduces himself as Cha Eunwoo, just a year older than yourself. He shares stories about how he used to be a rock climber, hands full of calluses to prove it, before he learns he has leukemia. He mentions how he developed the symptoms about a year ago, when the thing he loved the most became a chore— bones weak and tired, constantly getting chills and fevers occurring. He’d occasionally go climbing, despite his fatigue, and he’d find himself bruising easily compared to initially. Deciding to finally go to the doctor, albeit his efforts to avoid them by ditching his yearly visits, he’d been diagnosed with the cancer, his future deteriorating before his eyes.

You’d bring sweets for him almost daily, along with a meal. Whether lunch or dinner, you made sure your presence was known. Eunwoo deserved the best few months of his life, and knowing him for just a week made you realized how much of an impact he had on your life.

More than the first time the both of you try sweets.

“Let’s try it at the same time.”

“On the count of three?”

Both holding a cupcake in hand, wax paper already peeled off, you eye each other mischievously, ready to take your first bites of the dessert.

“One,” He says teasingly, waiting for you to continue.

“Two,” You continue onto his antics, a grin stretched across your face.

“Three!” With that and mouths open wide, as a couple, you chomp on the delight, eyes almost rolling to the back of your heads.

Chocolate cupcake with buttercream frosting— a classic that Chanyeol suggested— pretty much sparking inner fireworks on your tongue. You’d never experienced this feeling before; it had been a different kind of bliss, one you never knew you were missing out on. You finally understand why Chanyeol and Baekhyun were raving about the café you visited the other day; your brother texting his group chat of friends that they have to come here next time. With such a feeling from eating a cupcake from a franchise grocery store and obtaining this deep of a sensation— you could only imagine trying that café again.

“Holy fuck,” Eunwoo curses, bulging eyes and remains of the baked good on his face that exasperates a laugh from you. “That shit... is fucking good.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes that you catch, and your heart clenches at the sight.

You get why people compare their loved ones to sweets. How when old couples call their significant others “sweetheart” or “sweetie.” Or when Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s faces lit up in glee at the thought of inhaling those baked goods at that café a couple months ago, mouths watering at the thought of their tongues tasting the sweetness of the desserts. It was a feeling you never thought you’d long for until now.

Eunwoo was sweet, you think to yourself. His hair is dark as the chocolate in the cupcake, and his voice sounds as sugary and smooth as the frosting. The first bite of the common baked good is a reminder of how addicting being with Eunwoo is, like the taste of the cupcake and how you can’t seem to get enough of it. Your eyes trail to his lips— so plump and pink, just like strawberries and you’re suddenly curious on what the fruit tastes like, but your mind is flooded with the thought of how his lips tasted like. 

Bold is what you’re feeling today. You figure that if this was your last shot to make a move on him, you’d regret it later. And life... Well life is always full of regrets, but you didn’t want this to be one of them.

Seated on the edge of his hospital bed, his brows are raised questioning at the shift of atmosphere. “What is it?”

“I just... don’t move.” Pushing your weight on your arm that rests by his leg, you lean in, eyes fluttering shut since pressing your lips gingerly onto his.

Eunwoo didn’t just taste sweet, Eunwoo was sweet. 

Reality hits hard, even if you already know what the future holds. 

Your soulmate passes peacefully in his sleep a month ago, and the thought of him disappearing from your life is a constant indication that the nightmare was your reality. The memories of Eunwoo are embedded into your head, his face reoccurring in your dreams only made you mourn harder.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Your drink is melting.” A voice interrupts your thoughts.

Baekhyun invites you out for coffee, ordering you an iced americano like he did last time. It’s just the two of you for this occasion, and you don’t question the absence of your older brother from your mind being fogged up of the loss of Eunwoo.

“I’m... holding up. I’ll be okay later,” You assure the older male, attempting to pull the edges of your mouth into a smile. It’s harder to showcase your jubilance lately but thankfully Baekhyun doesn’t probe you to. “Thanks for getting this for me, by the way. I guess I’m still trying to get used to the fact I can’t enjoy dessert beverages anymore.”

He shrugs slightly in response, opening the plastic packaging off his blueberry muffin. “I know you’re going through a lot, Eunwoo sounded like a nice guy and I wish I could’ve met him. But... he’d want you to keep living your life. Don’t stop yourself from doing the things you want to do because you met him and he’s gone now.”

“It just feels... so wrong to do things without him because he’s my soulmate.”

“Well, I can almost guarantee that Eunwoo would be pissed if you weren’t at least trying to put yourself in a good mood.”

He... wasn’t wrong, but you’d never tell Baekhyun that he was right about anything. Maybe you’d try— just a little more for Eunwoo. You got to meet him, learn who he was as a person, and even though Baekhyun never met the guy, his observation and assumption of him was spot on. Straightening your slouching back in the seat, you lean over to take a sip of your drink, eyeing his selection off the menu.

Changing the topic at the sight of his drink, you burst out, “What... the hell did you even order?”

Baekhyun hums for a moment, lips pursed in thought. “I think this is a vanilla, caramel, java chip frap.”

“What?” He laughs at your distorted facial expression, peeling the plastic off the straw fore poking it into the top of the drink. Peculiarly, he brings the cup to your lips. “Try it yourself.”

“Baekhyun, what’s the point of trying—“

“I said try it, Park. Give it a shot.” Watching him doubtfully as you tilt your body toward his offering, your mouth opens in invitation as he brings the drink closer to you. Sucking on the straw for a brief moment, it hits.

It hits. 

The drink wasn’t only cold— it was sweet. 

“Is this— but how? This is so sweet, Baekhyun!” Taking a moment to let the taste sink in, your face winces in realization at how sweet it is. “Baek, why is this so sweet, I swear that just that one sip alone could give me diabetes.”

He watches you attentively, placing the cup back onto the table. “You taste it, right? You actually taste it?”

“Yeah, I do. But how? When Eunwoo passed, the taste disappeared. I thought I’d never experienced it again... unless...”

There’s silence between the two of you. Thoughts started to flood your head; what did this mean? Why did you suddenly get the taste back? Eunwoo was gone, and you were absolutely sure of it because you attended his open casket funeral. And why was Baekhyun so persistent with you trying sweets?

“I know this sounds weird, but there’s a theory.” Reclining in his seat, he takes in a deep breath before wiping his hands on a nearby napkin. “I’ve read somewhere that there are more than one soulmates to a person, and that possibly when one passes, it means the opportunity to meet your next one is... well, possible.” You don’t say anything but gesture your head for him to continue.

“My soulmate passed too. I never got to meet her but I found out that she passed because I joined that research group when you told me about it. They informed me that they found her in the system, but she had gotten into a car accident when she was young. I honestly thought I’d never get to smell anything— ever.” Pausing for a moment, he tightens his lips at the memory of a couple months ago. “Then... remember when we were here last time and you thought you could taste that raspberry croissant? That same exact moment, I actually... smelled that. My sense of smell was so strong in fact that I could smell Chanyeol’s fart that he passed moments after.”

“What are you saying?” You blurt.

“I’m saying, that moment we got our senses might be that very moment Eunwoo almost died.”

You recall the conversation you had with the woman on the other line when she delivered the news that they had found your soulmate. How Eunwoo was barely holding on, and days before he was on the verge of death before the nurses were able to save him. 

“It’s crazy, I know. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And honestly, I couldn’t even stop thinking about you. Hearing Chanyeol constantly tell me about how you’re with Eunwoo almost everyday pretty much broke me, but I know that he’s biologically your soulmate, so what am I supposed to do?”

Did... Baekhyun just confess?

Unsure of what to say to his words, you abruptly grab his drink again, startling him as you slurp aggressively. Sweet, cold, sweet. It was disgusting, you had to admit, with all these flavors in one drink, but there was no denying how in awe you were that you could even taste it. 

“Baekhyun, this is disgusting.”

“I honestly only picked that drink because I wanted to test the waters.”

And with that, he was able to bring your lips into a beaming smile for the first time since Eunwoo’s death.

The thought of your brother’s cool best friend falling in love with you sounds like a cliche, something you never thought yourself could be reality. After meeting Eunwoo, it felt like the end, something that most people who lose the love of their lives feel, as though there isn’t a purpose anymore. But hearing Baekhyun pour his heart out to you, even knowing he had to suck up his feelings for you when he finds out you’ve met your soulmate, makes you believe again. Believe that there’s more to life, even when your mate is gone, and it’s worthwhile to keep exploring.

And although your wishes were to explore with Eunwoo, exploring with Baekhyun sounded just as good. 

Baekhyun wouldn’t replace Eunwoo, is what you learn. He’d occupy another part of your heart, loving you the way that Eunwoo would have, and honoring his previous role in your life.

“Chanyeol, you put way too much sugar in that.”

“I’m starting to miss when you didn’t meet your soulmate.” Your brother grimaces, swatting you away with his spatula. He was attempting to recreate your mom’s kimchi jjigae, which you tried to tell him that she doesn’t even put sugar in it, to which he argues that you’re not a professional in tasting things. “I also miss when Baekhyun was mine.”

You fail to notice Baekhyun’s feelings for you over time— his effort to travel from the countryside to come see you on occasion during his college years and incessantly telling Chanyeol to invite his little sister when he really didn’t want to. Even attending family gatherings as Chanyeol’s guest, when really he wanted to charm your parents in case he’d ever get the chance to win your heart one day. Chanyeol wasn’t supportive of Baekhyun’s feelings for you only because he didn’t want him to interfere with the opportunity to meet your soulmate— only late to find out that Baekhyun is your soulmate.

“Baekhyun is still yours, you idiot, or else we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“Are you telling me that you don’t want to spend time with your only brother?”

“Honestly, Yeol, I rather not—“

“Whoa whoa whoa, what’s going on here? Are the Park siblings fighting yet again?” As usual, Baekhyun enters into the kitchen, handsome as ever dressed in a simple basic t-shirt still hitches your breath. He slides his arm underneath yours, snaking it around your waist to pull into his embrace, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I thought we discussed not having a fist fight with Chanyeol this weekend and trying to be civil.”

Squinting your eyes at the taller male, you scrunch your nose despite softening in the warmth of Baekhyun. “I’m trying. But Yeol here isn’t great at compromising.”

“I told you. All you have to do is return Baek to me and we’re all good.”

“You have a girlfriend! Why are you trying to steal my boyfriend from me? Don’t you get enough love from her?”

“I want Baek’s love.”

“There’s enough love to go around, stop fighting!” In contempt of his tone, he was amused. His ego must be inflating that very moment. Chanyeol frowns, turning away to the sink to dispose of his utensils.

Precipitously, Baekhyun swings his head to face you, a mischievous smirk on his face. “What?” You furrow your brows questioningly before he surprisingly plants a kiss on your lips.

“Nothing... you just smell really good.”

And Baekhyun... tasted sweet like honey. 

Baekhyun is sweet.

[lovely-ateez]

Ice Cream Pt. 2~

ꕥPosted: 9/23/20

ꕥGenre: Fluff, Smut

ꕥPairing: Fem!Reader x Seonghwa

ꕥWord Count: ~2k

ꕥWarnings: Oral (f recieving), Unprotected sex (sort of, reader is on the pill), Reader has a thing for being teased, Praise (are we even surprised at this point), Language, Size kink if you squint

ꕥA/N: I hope you all enjoy this one! I’m going to make this a five part series and I’m really excited to write the rest!! I’ll be posting part three on Saturday! You can read the first one here. Happy Wednesday everyone :)

Pt. 3 here~

Your POV

I read over the words on my screen for likely the twentieth time, trying to come up with a solid response. Any response at all, really, that didn’t sound completely ridiculous.

[Choco Boi] Those are big words, doll. How about you come see for yourself how good I am?

Choco Boi—or Seonghwa, as I affectionately named him in my phone—had been bragging to me about how good of a cook he was for the past hour. So I, in all my infinite wisdom, told him I was an incredible chef. I mean I wasn’t necessarily a bad cook, but I certainly wasn’t Gordon Ramsey. And now, I he was inviting me to his home for us to cook together.

My fingers were hovering over the keyboard of my phone when I received another text from him.

[Choco Boi] No pressure tho, only if you want to :)

[Me] That’s okay! I’d like to. Maybe the 6th?

Surely someone can learn to cook in a week, right?

[Choco Boi] Sure. I’ll pick you up at 5?

[Me] Sounds good :))

With a sigh I set my phone down on my night stand, tucking myself into bed. I had work the next morning and I knew I should be getting some sleep but my thoughts continued to drift back to Seonghwa.

Two weeks had passed since we first met and there wasn’t a day that passed that we didn’t text, FaceTime, or call each other.

I couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was just so...alluring. He had the most precious mannerisms and I felt like I melted everytime he smiled. Especially when it was because of me.

I recalled the first official date we went on. He took me to a gorgeous restaurant I had never heard of. I teased myself for being so nervous because conversation flowed so easily with him. We held hands nearly the entire time as Seonghwa pretended to know all the foreign dishes and everything about them, making up the most ridiculous stories as he went along. I smiled and laughed with him to the point I had tears in my eyes.

I remember so clearly when he drove me home and we ended up making out in his car for an hour, the fat raindrops pounding on his car. It wasn’t intentional, at least on my part, but god if my feelings weren’t strong before, they certainly were now. The cologne he was wearing was no doubt expensive and he looked so heavenly in his blue button-up shirt with the rolled up sleeves exposing his forearms, his silver watch on display. I wouldn’t have been surprised if my eyes were literally forming hearts when I looked at him. I felt comforted that his eyes reflected the look in mine.

Closing my eyes I gradually lulled myself to sleep, but not without thinking of him as I did.

-

The next day passed relatively quickly, and I felt slightly anxious about meeting with Seonghwa. I knew he wouldn’t instantly lose interest if I wasn’t a good cook, but I still wanted to impress him.

Setting down all of my groceries with a thud, I let out a sigh. I was pretty confident I bought half of the store’s cooking materials. Seonghwa refused to tell me what we were making so I wanted to make sure I got all the basics down. I had no problem with baking and I was certain I would be fine if we ended up making cookies, brownies, or something similar.

I just wasn’t too sure about...well, essentially everything else. So I spent my week trying new recipes and failing, trying them again and still failing but less so. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated, still not completely sure of what I was doing wrong.

I spent most nights cooking, trying to get the hang of beginner and intermediate dishes. Only a few actually turned out okay, but honestly it was better than where I started, and time was running out so I just had to accept it.

-

The day finally approached and I did everything possible to calm my nerves. As the clock ticked closer to five, I checked my outfit again. My favorite long sleeved shirt was tucked into a pair of slightly ripped shorts that tightly hugged my thighs. Simple pearls rested on my ears. I didn’t want anything too dramatic or revealing, especially since we’re only planning to cook.

Looking good girl. You can do this. Just remember to breathe and it’ll all be alright.

The doorbell shook me from my thoughts.

“Coming!”

As I opened the door I saw Seonghwa holding a bouquet of roses, a loving smile on his face. My heart grew at the sight. He made me feel so cared for.

“There are for you, doll.”

I pushed the flowers aside and kissed him, jumping into his arms. “I’m so excited! It’s so good to see you!”

He laughed. “It’s good to see you, too.”

I took the flowers from his hands and welcomed him into my house, placing them in a jar.

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you again, Seonghwa.”

“No problem. You ready? My car is parked out front.”

I nodded, biting my lip. “I’m ready.”

Seonghwa’s POV

As we climbed into my car she spoke, her voice a little small, “So what are we making, Hwa?”

I smiled at the nickname she hadn’t used since the last time I saw her in person. “Well, love, today we’ll be making soufflé. That should be no problem with you right? You are an incredible chef, after all.”

A flash of fear shone through her eyes before she made a feeble attempt to suppress it. It was almost comical.

“Duh, of course.”

I smiled to myself. I doubted she’d made anything more complex than cookies but I was curious to see how far she was willing to take this.

My house wasn’t too far from hers so it took maybe ten minutes before we were at my house. I knew she’d never been to my home before and hoped she wasn’t too nervous.

I wouldn’t admit it, but I was more nervous than I led on. I’d brought a few girls to my place, but I didn’t have the instant connection with them that I did with her. She was special to me, as cliché as it sounds.

“Your house is pretty.” She said with big eyes.

I smiled, “Thank you.”

I held the door open as she walked in, and she instantly let out a gasp. It scared me, thinking something was wrong until I saw her run over to a little plant sitting on my windowsill.

“It’s so cute! Does it have a name?”

“Uh...can’t say it does. You name plants?”

She scoffed, “Of course! Frankly I’m appalled that you don’t.”

I watched as her eyes squinted, carefully examining the plant.

God she looks adorable. She’s literally just fawning over a plant and my heart is pounding. What are you doing to me, sweetheart?

“I think it looks like a Unice.”

“Unice?”

“Yeah! I can’t explain it but it looks like a Unice.”

“Fair enough. Let’s head to the kitchen, I’ve got everything set up already.”

She nodded and waved goodbye to the plant.

“Bye Unice!”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile.

“So I know how to—of course—but you know I just want to see if you know how to make a soufflé so you should probably explain it.” She batted her eyelashes.

I raised a hand to my chin. “Actually, I’m not quite sure, now that you mention it. I could probably use a refresher. Would you mind telling me?”

“Uhhh...”

I laughed at her stunned appearance. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a recipe.”

The woman giggled like a child, likely out of nerves.

“Good.”

“So first I need you to grab some milk and butter from the fridge.” I told her while preheating the oven.

“Okay!” She opened the fridge, “Oh my gosh you have chocolate covered strawberries? What are those for?”

You.

“I have a sweet tooth. You can have some if you’d like.”

“No, that’s okay. I don’t wanna steal your food.”

“I don’t mind. They’re there if you want some.”

“Aw thanks.”

Everything went smoothly and I was surprised that she was doing so well. Soufflés weren’t easy to make for beginners and I was happy to see her trying.

That was until she started to stir the egg whites and accidentally knocked over the bag of flour sitting next to her.

“Okay I give.” Her brows furrowed as she threw her hands up in defeat, “I’m not the best at making food and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

I glanced at the powder covering her clothes and pressed my lips together to hide my smile.

“You don’t say?”

She cracked a slight smile, despite her best efforts to remain serious. “I’m trying, okay?”

I walked over to her and tilted my head down to look at her tiny frame.

“You’re so cute.”

Her eyes widened and she buried her face in her hands almost immediately, whining at me not to say such things.

You have no idea how endearing you are to me, darling.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.”

I gently removed her hands from her face and was greeted with a cherry blush forming on her cheeks. Just like when I first saw her, it was so easy to make her blush. I seemed to grow more and more fond of her flustered state every time I saw it.

Tucking a few fingers under her chin, I leaned down to kiss her soft lips. She tasted of the chocolate covered strawberries I saw her eating earlier when she thought I wasn’t looking and smelled of floral perfume. It was an intoxicating combination.

I smiled against the kiss when I felt her melt into my touch. Kissing her harder I ran my hands down her back, unintentionally playing with the hem of her shirt. I didn’t have any intention of taking things further. I was more than willing to take my time with her. I wanted her to be comfortable more than anything.

And then she whimpered into the kiss. I felt myself twitch in my jeans at the noise. She sounded so beautiful and everything in me craved to hear it again. I broke from the kiss and ran my lips down the side of her neck, taking my time to see how she reacted. She leaned into my touch and began to pant heavily, gripping onto my biceps.

I heard a breathless whisper of my name fall from her lips and it spurred me on. I gradually led her back up against the island in my kitchen and pinned her in place with my arms on either side of her, pressing on the granite. I littered her neck with kisses, paying close attention to the areas that were most sensitive to her.

Before I got ahead of myself I drew back to tell her we should stop. I didn’t know how far she wanted to go and I didn’t want her to think that I was only after her for sex. And so, I told her as such.

Her hazy lust-filled eyes darkened. “I don’t think you’re that type of guy. I want this if you do.”

“Wait! The oven!” Her eyes grew.

“Oh shit you’re right.”

I ran to turn off the oven and wordlessly picked her up, letting her legs wrap around my waist. All I saw was desire in her eyes. I led her to my bedroom and set her down on the soft sheets of my bed.

“Let’s find out what you’re into, sweetheart.”

She giggled and grabbed my shirt, forcing her lips against mine.

“Why don’t I show you?”

Your POV

I felt the fanning of his hot breath on my skin and I shivered, temporarily forgetting how to speak.

“Shirt off.” I demanded.

Seonghwa raised a brow but complied. When his shirt came off I couldn’t help but stare, practically drooling at the look of him. Without thinking I reached out to run my fingers along his abs.

“Damn. You’re really attractive.” I could barely speak above a whisper.

“And you look absolutely stunning, my darling.”

He quickly removed my shorts, leaving my black lacy panties exposed. His eyes devoured me, and any dominant feelings I had within quickly disappeared. His hands ran up and down my thighs and made the warmth inside me spread.

“Tease me please.” I begged.

“Oh,” his mouth quirked into a smile, “You’re one of those, huh?”

“Shush. I don’t need—ah fuck.”

Seonghwa’s fingers danced across my clothed clit and I arched my back off the bed. His fingers were gone as quickly as they first appeared. I couldn’t help but groan at the lack of contact, but I loved it. He continued this a few more times before my whines became much louder. His lips met mine in a heated kiss and I felt his fingers tickling my sides.

“Seonghwa!” I spoke through uncontrolled giggles.

I kissed him even harder as he continued and tried to catch my breath through the sensation.

He stopped and I wiggled under his stare, feeling so, so small.

“It’s your turn now. Shirt off.” Normally I would have been embarrassed with how quickly I removed my shirt and how eager I likely appeared, but the wetness I felt between my thighs was growing quickly and I needed release.

“Good girl.” Seonghwa removed my panties at an almost painfully slow speed and when he finally did, he tossed them aimlessly behind him. He raised my legs over his shoulders and I shuddered as his mouth slowly approached where I so badly needed him.

“So wet for me already and I’ve barely touched you.” His voice dropped several octaves and I whimpered.

My head fell back as I felt a few kitten licks on my clit. When I didn’t feel anything more, I looked back at him to be met with a shit-eating grin.

“Seonghwa!” My voice sounded so needy I barely recognized it.

“What? I thought you liked to be teased.”

“Well yes but actually no.” I joked, “Not when I need you this bad.”

“Hmm.” Was all the response I got before he went back to running his tongue along my clit and opening.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” I chanted as he picked up the pace, slowly entering a few fingers in me.

“I didn’t realize you had such a vulgar mouth, doll.”

If I had the ability to process any of what he just said I’m sure I would have had some retort ready, but in all honesty I couldn’t think about anything else except the stimulation that I was feeling.

I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching and I had no doubt that he knew it too. My hands found his hair and gripped onto his dark locks.

“Seonghwa! Oh my god please don’t stop.”

Then, the bastard stopped. I groaned and bucked my hips up, desperate for anything.

“Patience is a virtue, you know.”

“Fuck off.”

He let out a hearty laugh and reached to his nightstand. I grabbed his face and made him look at me.

“I’m on the pill, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure? Like really sure?”

“Yes yes I’m sure. Please, Seonghwa.”

He quickly discarded his clothes as I removed my bra, his eyes quickly darkening.

“Tell me if you want to stop at any time, okay?” Even though I could tell how bad he wanted this, his eyes were kind, putting me first.

I really found a good man. It’s too early to say I’m falling for him, but I definitely can see myself loving him.

“I will.”

He let out a low groan as he entered me and I clenched around him, loving the sound.

“Fuck. Don’t do that.” He warned.

“Do what?” I asked with a smirk, promptly repeating the action.

He groaned again, “Babe I’m trying to last for a while here and you’re not making it easy.”

I bit my lip, pleased at his response, when he quickly thrusted into me. I moaned, my breath leaving me.

“Not so talkative now, hmm?”

I didn’t have the ability to respond and simply grasped his face to pull him into a kiss as he continued his movements.

“You’re making me feel so good, babe.”

“Same...here.”

My legs were shaking and I closed my eyes, not being able to keep them open any longer.

A deep voice called out to me, “Hey. Hey look at me.”

Fighting my urges to close my eyes I made eye contact with him. A sweet look was conveyed by his eyes, starkly contrasting the fact that we were literally having sex.

“You look gorgeous.”

My face turned pink and in response Seonghwa kissed both of my cheeks, leading down to my neck.

“Hwa, I’m close.”

A dazzling smile lit up his face at what I assume was the nickname.

“Me too.”

With a few more thrusts I was shaking, cumming around him. He let out a low growl releasing slightly after me.

Both of us remained still, trying to catch our breath.

“Same time next week, love?”

“Seonghwa oh my god!” He laughed along with me.

“Honestly,” I thought aloud, “Sure.”

He slowly pulled out of me and grabbed a warm towel from his bathroom, cleaning me up.

“I didn’t necessarily plan this to happen, but I was planning on asking you at the end of today anyway: Would you want to be my girlfriend? Maybe?”

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

[caffeineivore]

Commission #2

For @nelwynp. Based off a very very old ficverse from wayyyyyyy back in the day called “Freckles” which may or may not be found on LJ. Makoto/Nephrite.

Commissions are still open!! Check out the details here or all the other commissions currently available here!

Long distance relationships are statistically known to suck, and honestly, I wouldn’t have considered myself the rose-coloured glasses type. The real world doesn’t care that you’ve probably, maybe, already gotten your share of crap thrown at you, starting from the death of your parents, and think maybe it should cut you a break. I knew the chances of Nick and myself making it were slim. He would be busy, surrounded by strangers a whole two states away. Sure, we’d known each other since we were kids, and maybe by now, he had become the one constant in my life-- my North Star, perhaps-- that forever friend who’d seen me at my worst and didn’t care in the least. And maybe--- maybe, finally, I’d finally told him those three words that had been nagging at the back of my subconscious for the last year of our acquaintance. He’d said them back, and it was only then that I realized how much I’d needed to hear and say them.

Still, I saw him off on that cloudy morning with dry eyes and homemade eggs Benedict-- that is to say, that I fed him and double-checked to make sure that he had not misplaced anything important. The apartment that he’d been living in was stripped bare, and all of his worldly goods were in the trailer of the U-haul which would take him to his new home. I was plugging his phone into the car charger in the front console when his arms wrapped around me from behind, and turned me to face him. 

Nick has always been a good-looking guy, in that sort of rugged, All-American way, with broad shoulders and a great smile, and I’d learned at some point in our long acquaintance that he gave the best hugs-- the type that lifts you slightly off your feet and makes you feel like some type of dainty damsel even when you’re six feet tall in heeled boots. It’s no different now, and maybe I hung on for a moment too long, myself. He’s not much of a cologne guy, but his sweatshirt smells like laundry soap and I’m pretty sure he’d used my shampoo that morning again, because his hair’s super soft-- and the flowery scent is not nearly as girly on him as it is on me. 

“Call me when you get there.” I hope to Hell, of course, that the fact that my voice is muffled against his neck disguises the unsteadiness.

“I’ll call you every day.”

I wouldn’t hold him to it, of course, but I didn’t say anything to that effect, and I watched as he drove off, and then headed off to the gym for a punishing three-mile run on the treadmill followed by a full hour of kickboxing to a playlist of angry girl rock, and if I cried in the shower afterwards, no one needed to know that.

He did call that night, though. And the night after. And the night after that. And soon, it had become a routine, and maybe I should have given him more credit the whole time. Before I knew it, two months had passed, and he flew down for a long holiday weekend, and after we’d christened three separate rooms in my apartment, we got caught up in person. I’d heard so much about his new place and the people he’d met at his new school that I probably could’ve picked his favourite and least favourite professors out of a crowd. 

This became a thing, and so for two years, we did the long distance thing. He heard about the awful day when the stand mixer went rogue and how I was still picking bits of cake batter out of my hair two hours later. I heard so much about one particularly persnickety city inspector on a project he worked on that I learned to hate the guy as much as Nick did. Our reunions were sporadic, rapturous and never long enough, though half the time we eschewed actual dates in favour of staying in and just being ourselves together-- watching movies, working out, buying groceries and cooking meals, falling asleep so close together that it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other one began. 

We spent that first Thanksgiving at my place-- Friendsgiving, really, cooking a huge meal in a too-small kitchen, inviting all of our old friends. I shooed Nick and James out of my kitchen and chatted with Raye as she snapped a bowl of green beans for me and sounds of the football game filtered in through the living room. She was a ball of nerves-- James would be meeting her very formidable, very rich, very conservative father when he went over to her home for Christmas. Said father would not be amused to find his only daughter not only dating, but actually fully living in sin with a mouthy city boy-- when Nick had moved out, James and Raye had gotten an apartment together. Amy and Zach had arrived a bit later, because he’d had to pick her up from the hospital where her shift had run over. Kevin and Mina, on the other hand, were at her parents’ house out of state. She’d texted me all types of sad face emojis about how the cranberry sauce had come out of a can and the mashed potatoes had come out of a box, but I had no sympathy. She had parents who cooked for her for Thanksgiving, didn’t she? Besides, if she really cared about food over time spent with them and Kevin, she would have told them that she had Ebola and came over to my place instead.

At any rate, against all the odds, we somehow managed to make it work, and two years, three months and six days after that first time that I told him I loved him, he was on his way down to visit again. I’d gone up to see him get his Master’s degree two months ago and he’d taken me out around the town to celebrate with his friends and classmates. Some of them had met me before, but to those who hadn’t, he introduced me as his girlfriend, and from the easy acceptance, I knew that everyone present had some idea of our history. It had been a wonderful weekend, but I was a bit nervous about seeing him again today. Something had come up, very recently, and I wasn’t sure how he would take it.

At first, I had thought nothing of the symptoms. Fatigue and a bit of nausea doesn’t tend to alarm anyone right off the get-go. Everyone knows restaurant hours are brutal, and as an apprentice chef, any task, no matter how mundane or unpleasant, might get assigned to me on any given day. Certainly, I might get to spend one day arranging delicate edible flowers and a compote of ripe berries around and on top of fancy panna cottas, but the very next, I might be doing nothing but washing dishes and running out garbage. The kitchen I work in specializes in a rotating seasonal menu, and at the time, calamari was in season. Certainly it is delicious deep-fried with casino butter and lemon wedges, sprinkled with sea salt and cracked black pepper, but it’s definitely not as appealing raw, slimy and fishy-smelling. It’s enough to make anyone lose their appetite doing prep early in the morning. But then I was late. And not to work, if you know what I mean. One week stretched into two, then three. The nausea didn’t go away, even when my day consisted of making large quantities of bourbon vanilla buttercream frosting for strawberry white chocolate cakes. It was a week ago that I picked up two different pregnancy tests from Walgreen’s. Both results had come back to tell me what I kind of already knew, deep down, and I was honestly terrified down to the bone.

I had always wanted to have that maybe-stereotypical home and family someday-- the cute house with gingerbread trim and the white picket fence and the garden full of old-fashioned flowers, a husband who loved me and our children and went to baseball games and dance recitals with equal enthusiasm. I wanted to be able to be the mom who baked cupcakes for the bake sale and cookies for the big jar on the kitchen counter, and volunteered to chaperone field trips to the science museum. That had been my own mother, from those distant reaches of old memories, and though I’d lost her, I knew that it was in me to keep her legacy alive. 

But I had not intended to do so when I had just started my career, unmarried and still living in a tiny college-campus apartment, with a boyfriend who lives two states away, who might not even want kids. God! That was a discussion we’d never even had. 

The door swings open, though, before I could think about it any more. Nick has a key to my place, of course, as I do to his. Sometimes he calls, but sometimes he just arrives, like today, a little ahead of schedule. I’m caught up in one of those long, tight hugs, a warm and familiar hand cupping the back of my neck, and maybe he feels a hint of desperation in my kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are warm, but full of concern. “Everything okay, Freckles?”

“Ugh. Can you not call me that? We’ve talked about that.” Oh, Gods... A baby with his brown hair and my green eyes. His dimples and my freckles. I can almost picture a little girl, toddling on chubby legs, riding on his shoulders, picking dandelions in the yard and blowing the fluff away in the wind. I’d teach her to bake chocolate chip cookies and read her stories where the princess saved herself and buy her pretty dresses for picture day and sturdy jeans for playing outside in. I loved her already, but she wasn’t supposed to even exist. 

“Habit. And you scrunch your nose up when you’re mad, and I shouldn’t like it, but I do.” Nick presses another, shorter kiss to my mouth, then tips up my face. “But you seem a bit out of sorts. What’s wrong?”

“How could you tell if I’m out of sorts or not when you literally just walked in two minutes ago?” It’s an evasion, and I’m sure he can and will spot the bullshit and call me out on it. 

“Because I’ve known you since we were kids, and you don’t have to say or do anything for me to know when you’re out of sorts.” Nick pulls me gently over to the love seat, and sits me down, keeping one of my hands in his as though he expects me to bolt at any moment. “Everything’s okay, right? You didn’t have anything particularly horrible at work this week that I recall from our conversations.”

No, this week hadn’t been bad. Breaking down chickens is fairly mindless work once you get the hang of it. And the resulting bone broth is wonderful for someone who finds it difficult to keep food down some days. Nick deserves the truth, of course, and maybe the ripping-off-the-bandaid approach is best. I shut my eyes to his all-too-perceptive, all-too-loving gaze, and set my teeth.

“I’m pregnant.”

His hand tightens on mine and his next inhaled breath is sharp, but I plow on. “I know it’s not expected, and I know we were careful, but… it is what it is. You don’t have to worry, though. I’m not some delicate little miss who’s afraid of raising a child. The executive chef at work loves me, as he should, and I’m sure they’ll work with me when the time comes for maternity leave. And in this day and age, it’s not a big deal to be a single mom. I’m keeping this baby and she’s going to get the best life that I can give her, growing up.” I don’t know why I was so certain I was having a little girl. But she already existed, to me, and at that moment in time, she was probably only the size of my pinkie nail. “She will never doubt, for a moment, that she’s loved.”

“Of course not.” Nick finally speaks, and his voice is an awed, slightly choked-up whisper. I sense him moving, then one big, warm hand rests on my still-flat stomach, followed by the press of his lips. “We’re having a baby. Wow. Okay, so I guess I should get on with what I’d already planned to do, even though I’d planned for this to be a lot more romantic.” Belatedly, I realize that not only has he moved, but he is down on his knees in front of me, one hand on my stomach, the other one digging into a pocket, and then he pulls out a small black velvet box, flicks open the catch.

I’m not much of a jewelry type of girl-- I wear the same earrings, every single day, but working in a kitchen greatly limits the practicality of going around with bracelets and rings and do-dabs. Still, stereotypical though it might be, I’d always wanted that classic diamond solitaire engagement ring from my husband-to-be, and now, when it’s staring me in the face-- princess-cut and set in platinum, I find myself speechless. 

“Lita Oakley, love of my life, will you marry me?”

Of course he doesn’t mince words. In a lot of ways, I guess we’re past that point. But I draw my hand back a moment before he can slide that ring on. 

“I don’t want you to propose to me because I’m pregnant and you feel obligated. You’d end up regretting it, and that would kill me.” We didn’t live together now, but if we did someday, and then it all went south, and I had to walk into an empty house bereft of his presence and his things and even the way he’d always kick his shoes off any which way by the door rather than make sure they’re put up where no one can trip over them, I knew it would break me in a way that hadn’t been possible since my parents’ deaths.

Nick rolls his eyes, though, and huffs out a breath before digging deeper into that little velvet box, all the way underneath the white satin. He takes out a crinkled paper receipt, and unfolds it, and drops it on my lap. “You are so stubborn. Do you know that? Take a look at that receipt, will you? Just… humour me.”

I do. It’s from some jeweler in his state, and the price of the ring of course makes me wince a little. It’s definitely not cheap. But then I read it a little closer, and see the time stamp on the top. It was purchased at 4:26 PM on the sixth of December, two whole years ago. Perhaps six months after he’d moved away.

“I got it as soon as I could afford it, and I’d been saving up for a while. Probably not very well-thought-out of me, when everything was so up in the air. But I’d always known that we’d be here together, someday, and I’d be asking you to marry me. Anyway, it’s got nothing to do with the fact that you’re pregnant and everything to do with the fact that I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember, and there’s no one else in the world for me, and it’s too late to return this ring, anyway.” He pulls it out of the box, and I see something shining, trailing from it. “I know you can’t really wear rings, working in a kitchen. So I also got a necklace that you can wear this on, if you’ll just say yes. Please say yes.”

“How are we going to do this?” I blurt out, as that other infamous symptom of pregnancy-- emotional hormonal tears-- makes its appearance. I blink and try to sniffle them away, but Nick simply puts the ring on my finger, silvery necklace dangling from it, and gets up to his feet, pulls me gently to mine. “You live so freaking far away.”

“Not anymore I don’t.” He tugs me close, and kisses me again. “My lease is up in a month. I figure I can get another U-haul, and con the guys into helping out. I’m pretty sure that the people can put a good word in for me to get hired in somewhere local-- dumb jock notwithstanding, I worked my ass off these last few years and have the credentials and grades to prove it. Since my lease is up in a month anyway, might as well look for a new place to live. Some place that can be baby-proofed, and definitely not a top floor apartment with a janky elevator like here. Can’t have my pregnant fiancee struggling up five flights of stairs every day.”

He makes it seem so simple, really, as he pulls me in for what promised to be an extended cuddle session. 

But maybe-- maybe it would be. 

[alecmagnuslwb]

New Year’s Eve: Chapter Six

Read it all on AO3 or previous ch. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

One magical night, five intertwining love stories, all culminating at midnight with just maybe some confessions and kisses as the clock strikes.

This chapter: It all ends here, or just begins really. It’s finally midnight, everyone collides at one life changing party and of course some smooches occur.

***

11:33 P.M., New Year’s Eve

“So what now?” Alec asks inching a little closer to Magnus. He tries not to sound pleading, but there’s an edge to his voice that’s asking Magnus to stay for good this time. He’s close enough now he can feel the heat radiating off of his body, the perfect balance to Alec himself who always runs a little bit cold.

He listened to every word that Magnus said and with every explanation and apology the space between them seemed to fall away. He hadn’t realized just how much he missed Magnus until they were a breath away from one another. How much he missed his touch until he reached out for his hand. Or how much a simple ‘I’m sorry’ could lift the weight of a boulder off of his chest.

“Now,” Magnus says after a deep breath breaching the last remaining space between them, his hands finding Alec’s hips automatically almost like they never let go. “I’d very much like to kiss you and then take you home. And then keep doing that every night until the tour kicks back off in April.”

Alec holds his breath, his hands reaching up to rest softly on Magnus’ neck, a touch that he automatically leans in to. He can’t take it if this is just another temporary affair even if he knows it this time, can’t watch Magnus walk away out of fear that the distance will kill them again. Not when he knows why Magnus did what he did in the first place, not when they’ve just aired it all out like this.

“And maybe this time you can come with me,” Magnus says quickly assuaging any fears Alec may have and Alec breathes. Really truly breathes for what feels like the first time in months. “Or if you can’t because of work then I promise I’ll call you every night and text you every day and either way we’ll talk, we’ll always talk, about everything, no holding back anymore, no running when things get scary or difficult. Then when I come home in June I’m thinking we hit New York Pride and I make out with you in the street and then if you’re keen on the idea I’d like to come home to you every night for the rest of our lives.”

Alec’s never been keener to anything in his entire life. He should probably head upstairs and listen to his baby sister perform, but he’s seen her sing a million times before and she’d probably kill him if he left Magnus’ side right now. He really doesn’t want to leave Magnus’ side right now anyways. Actually he mostly just wants to kiss Magnus right now.

“I like the sound of that,” he says before he moves forward finally, after nine long months, connecting his lips with Magnus’. It’s a soft and inviting kiss that says ‘I’ve missed you so goddamn much’. Alec parts Magnus’ lips as his hand slips up into his hair and Magnus’ find the bare skin of hips pulling up at the t-shirt under his chef whites while the fingers of his other hand curl into Alec’s beltloops hitching them impossibly closer together.

The kiss catches fire. They’re alone in this empty hotel bar on what he feels is very likely the first night of the rest of their lives. His New Year’s Eve is no longer a thing to just get over with and leave the shitty year behind, it’s a fresh start, no a continued start with the only person he really wants to spend nights like this with.

Time passes by and somewhere along the way Alec finds himself pinned up against the bar, chef whites abandoned and t-shirt practically the same, with the muffled and faint yelling of a countdown in the distance.

***

It’s clear by 11:45 that Magnus isn’t coming back. It’s made clearer two minutes later when Isabelle receives a text asking her to take over for him at midnight with an annoying amount of heart eyed smiley faces.

On the one hand she’s happy for Magnus and her brother. On the other she’s nervous as hell because she doesn’t sing solo. Hasn’t outside of auditions since grade school and now she’s about to sing the penultimate New Year’s song in a room full of record executives, musicians and a who’s who of their industry.

She paces behind their little stage, Bat a comforting presence beside her pacing step by step with her. And then they’re being given the signal to get on stage, the countdown beginning and Bat squeezes her hand before picking up his guitar and heading up.

Isabelle is freaking out slightly less than before but definitely still just a little as she listens to the crowd countdown before her as she settles behind the main microphone. In 45 seconds she will be singing Auld Lange Syne to this entire crowd of a few hundred people. Make that in 40 seconds.

She’s also still thinking about that kiss she planted on Rebecca’s cheek before she left without saying a word. She really can’t be thinking about that right now though. One bi crisis at a time.

It’s not that she can’t sing, she knows she can. And it’s not that she doesn’t sing in front of way more people than this when she lands a tour gig. It’s that she’s a backup singer and frankly she likes it that way. She doesn’t want the spotlight; she likes spotlight adjacent which allows her the access and free stuff of the spotlight without the baggage and unwanted attention of actually being in it.

This with the spotlight literally on her and no one else is decidedly not spotlight adjacent.

Bat seems to notice her still beating panic and rushes over to her side. He turns her towards him hands firmly on her shoulders and tips his head so they’re touching foreheads not in a tender way but in the way two people about to go into battle side by side would. She’s known Bat for a long time, been on tour with him loads of times with another artist before they both met Magnus and then with Magnus himself. The touch is welcome and centering.

“You got this,” he says turning the mic away from them. “You’re Isabelle Fucking Lightwood.”

She nods, “I’m Isabelle Fucking Lightwood.” Her voice is steady now.

“Hell, yes you are!” he shouts turning the mic back and moving back to his position as the crowd reaches the single digits of the countdown.

She’s Isabelle Fucking Lightwood and she is gonna knock the hell out of this midnight performance and tomorrow morning she’s going to ask her pretty neighbor out.

***

The countdown keeps getting closer and closer to midnight and all Aline wants to do is kiss Helen and find out if the chocolate cupcakes really did taste better than the strawberry ones via Helen’s lips. She’s fairly certain it’s a mutual feeling judging from the laughter and the way Helen’s hands had lingered as they danced. It’s about to be a new year, filled with new possibilities, she’d like Helen to be one of those possibilities.

“Can I- “Aline starts as the countdown reaches ten finding her courage.

“Yes,” Helen breathes fast and affected stopping her before she can fully get her question out, the crowd around them shouts out “5! 4!”

She doesn’t hear the rest of the numbers or the happy new year shouts, too busy focusing solely on the soft way Helen parts her lips as confetti falls around them. It’s a happy new year indeed.

***

When the room starts shouting ‘Happy New Year’ and the crescendo of the band begins to play Auld Lang Syne. Luke knows he should probably just clink his glass together with Maryse’s and drink his champagne and listen to Maryse’s daughter sing. Maryse looks a lot like she knows the same thing, but also has other ideas.

He sits his glass down and without conscious thought moves forward. He’s not sure who pulls who in closer first but before he knows his lips are on Maryse’s moving slowly with his hands around her waist and her free one gliding up his neck. He sees sparks and fireworks dancing behind his eyes as they continue to kiss, the room fading away in a way it never has happened before with any other woman.

***

The bouncer blocks Rebecca’s entry into the party, he’s a tall imposing guy who’s not taking her attempts at fake names seriously. She eyes her surroundings the party inside is pretty packed, it’s mere moments away from midnight and well, this guy is tall. She’s not. The space between his arm and the cracked open door is enough for her to slip through she’s pretty sure.

“I’m gonna have to ask you to leave,” he says.

“Okay,” she replies dropping her head for a moment. The clock strikes midnight a cacophony of sound, fireworks and general hurrah going up everywhere around them. She uses his momentary distraction to her advantage running right under his arm and through the crack in the door.

“Happy New Year!” she shouts tossing a wave over her shoulder as the bouncer attempts to open the door wider so he can chase her through.

***

Midnight – New Year’s Day

The ball drops. Fireworks burst. Drinks are passed around. But Magnus and Alec don’t notice a single bit of it. They probably kiss exactly at midnight, but it’s just one in a series of many, too many to count. They don’t hear Isabelle’s beautiful rendition of Auld Lang Syne and Magnus completely misses the text from Catarina that features a picture of a passed-out Dot and Madzie curled up on each side of her. The new year begins, a fresh start and Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood couldn’t care less, because their fresh start, their continued start is here and now with searching hands and soft lips.

***

Clary keeps her hand resting softly on Maia’s cheek as they pull back from their sweet, slow midnight kiss. When she opens her eyes Maia’s are already gazing at her softly the twinkling lights of the party bouncing off her pupils until suddenly her line of vision shifts to just over Clary’s shoulder.

“Well that worked out nicely,” she says with a beaming smile.

Clary turns to see what Maia’s referring to tilting her head until she sees Luke and Maryse in a tight embrace feigning a slow dance with their lips tangled together.

“Eeek!” she yelps before turning back to her girlfriend and burying her face in her neck. Maia chuckles at the action reaching out affectionately to stroke her hair.

“Oh, don’t be like that, it’s sweet,” Maia says. And it is, Clary can’t deny that her dad looks happy and he deserves something like this, but also this is her dad.

“I’m so happy for him,” she says voice slightly muffled where she’s still burying her face in Maia’s neck trying to un-see her dad French kiss someone. “But I do not need to see my dad make out with anyone.”

Maia chuckles and places her fingers gently on Clary’s jaw slowly bringing her face out of its comfortable space. When she’s back to eye level with her girlfriend, warm fingers still lightly holding her chin, she smiles softly, reaching up to delicately hold Maia’s wrist.

“Good point,” she says before moving her hand softly down to Clary’s neck. “How about you make out with me then instead?”

Clary grins leaning in to do just that.

***

Rebecca nearly slips five times in her slippers skidding through to find her way to the main hall. A few easy maneuvers down a few long corridors lose the bouncer, for now, but she’s sure he’ll catch up again. She follows the sound of music, heading towards a large set of doors that she bursts through. On the stage a gorgeous female singing voice rings out.

Rebecca looks up and on the stage is Isabelle Lightwood, front and center singing the last few notes of Auld Lang Syne. Her singing voice is just as beautiful as the woman herself. She closes on a soft note the audience cheering while Rebecca just watches on in awe.

“There you are!” a booming voice shouts from behind her breaking her awe. Oh, shit.

She takes off again weaving through the crowd of dancing, drinking and making out well dressed strangers none of them paying any mind to the girl in her pajamas, the bouncer on her tail the entire time.

***

Isabelle looks out at the audience grinning as she finishes her performance and receives a raucous applause. Her eyes find her mother wrapped in an embrace with a very handsome black man. She’s stunned, and definitely has some questions, but the smile on her mother’s face can be seen from space she’s pretty sure so she won’t question whatever good thing this is. She keeps looking out as the band breaks down Bat directing everyone around and a playlist of music for people to dance to takes over when she spots a slight ruckus at the back.

A familiar figure in a powder blue robe works their way through the crowd, a large imposing guard following right behind them. The figure halts to a stop once they reach the stage, eyes meeting Isabelle’s.

“Rebecca?”

“Hi- “she starts cut off by the guard catching up with her.

“Alright, young lady you’re coming with me.”

Isabelle jumps down off the stage, standing strong with her hands on her hips, “No, she’s not, she’s with me.”

The guard eyes Isabelle dubiously. She’s not famous, but he recognizes her from letting her in earlier and though she’s tiny she knows how to look imposing. Growing up with a powerhouse mother and three brothers taught her that. He backs down after few tense seconds, hands raised backing away and making his way back through the crowd.

“What are you doing here?” Isabelle asks turning to look at Rebecca.

“I came to see you,” Rebecca says fiddling with the tie on her robe. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Isabelle looks at her confused. “We live in the same building; you didn’t have to come all this way in your pajamas.”

Rebecca looks down at herself almost like she forgot she was wearing pajamas still. Her face travels back up eyes meeting Isabelle with an adorable, slightly embarrassed look on her face.

“Probably,” she shrugs. “But it couldn’t wait. Might have lost my nerve if I didn’t find you now.”

Isabelle moves a hand from her hips to make a go on gesture in the space between them.

“Right,” Rebecca starts with a deep breath. “This might be a little weird, but I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner sometime? Like, as in a date?”

Isabelle smiles. Rebecca is definitely weird, but she’s sweet and incredibly pretty and Isabelle would be lying if she said the idea of going out with her hadn’t crossed her mind once or twice in the hours they spent trapped in that elevator and the time since.

“I’d love that,” she says, uncertain of what might come of this, but willing to take the leap. It is a New Year after all. A fresh start.

Rebecca nods her head a little furiously, “Great, that’s awesome. Wasn’t sure you’d say yes since I’ve spent most of the time we’ve known each other complaining about holidays, damning relationships and in my pajamas.”

Isabelle laughs reaching out to take one of Rebecca’s hands in hers.

“It was all kind of cute in a grumpy, quirky sort of way to be honest.”

Rebecca beams at her and Isabelle could get very used to having that much less grumpy look directed at her.

“You have a really pretty voice, by the way,” Rebecca says looking right into her eyes. Isabelle tries to keep the blush she feels forming on her cheeks in control, but mostly fails as she gives her quiet thanks.

“You want to dance?” Isabelle asks after a few moments of them just smiling at one another.

Rebecca nods as Isabelle pulls her in close by the ends of the ties on her robe moving to the beat.

***

Eventually because of air, Maryse pulls back from Luke and puts a little distance between them a smile on her lips.

“So, that works,” Luke says with a deep chuckle licking his lips as his hands fall a little uselessly to his sides. Maryse laughs moving one of her hands from Luke’s neck to glide her thumb across her bottom lip. Somewhere along the line during the kiss she had the thought to sit her champagne down, but she doesn’t recall it at all.

“It does,” she says completely enamored by the man in front of her.

“Sorry you missed your daughter sing,” Luke says pointing his thumb in the direction of the stage.

“It’s okay,” she says knowing Isabelle won’t be upset. More than any of her children Isabelle has been pushing for her to get back out there. She’ll be over the damn moon about this.

“I know you missed dinner,” Luke says after a few beats of just looking at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen holding out a hand for Maryse. “How about we go find somewhere to eat and talk some more, really talk this time?”

“I’d love that,” Maryse says taking his hand and letting herself be guided out the door. She let him slip away once before and she has no intentions to ever let it happens again.

She tosses a glance behind her to see Maia and Clary completely engrossed in one another and smiles before pulling her attention back to the man whose warm hand holds hers tightly like he’s just as determined as she is to not let this slip away again.

***

Aline and Helen pour out onto the street laughing hand in hand. After they’re mind blowing midnight kiss Aline had suggested heading out and Helen had eagerly agreed grabbing their coats. It’s about 12:30 now people still shouting as they walk down the crowded streets. Getting a cab will be impossible and as much as Aline would like to take Helen home right this second traffic isn’t going to let that happen. Which is okay, it’s a New Year, they have plenty of time.

They stand right outside of the building just staring at each other moonily when Aline finally speaks up.

“Can I walk you home?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Helen smiles about to turn and start walking when the door behind them bursts back open two men Aline immediately recognizes tumbling out. Alec’s chef whites dangle from his hand, his tight black t-shirt disheveled as all get out. He’s plastered to Magnus’ back, arms wrapped around his waist one hand sliding up under Magnus’ shirt, the two are seemingly unable to keep their hands off of each other as they outright giggle Magnus reaching back to not so subtly cop a feel slipping a hand into Alec’s back pocket. Magnus catches sight of her first when he turns his head to nudge at Alec’s stopping dead in his tracks causing Alec to bump into him a little roughly due to the abruptness of it.

“Oh,” he says looking up from where his face had been buried in Magnus’ neck. “Aline, hey.”

“Alec,” she says with a tilt of the head, smirking before turning her gaze to Magnus. “Magnus.”

“Who’s your friend?” Alec says looking down at their joined hands, his own smirk on his lips when he looks back up at Aline.

Aline glares at him. “This is Helen.” Helen gives an adorable wave to the pair who still haven’t actually taken their hands off of one another.

Magnus at least has the presence of mind and politeness to let go of Alec a bit waving back at Helen and introducing them both to her.

“Well,” Alec starts slowly nudging Magnus to move forward. “It was nice meeting you Helen.” He nods with a polite smile in her direction. “Aline we’ll see you soon I’m sure.”

Aline rolls her eyes smiling at the use of ‘we.’ They’d always been one of those annoying royal we couples. She’s glad to see they’re back at it.

She waves as Magnus does the same reaching for Alec’s hands to pull them out from under his shirt and drags him to a nearby limousine. He taps on the window, the driver bringing it down quickly then nodding. The doors unclick loudly.

“Thanks for not fucking it up, Bane!” Aline yells just as he opens the door over exaggeratedly holding out a gentlemanly arm to signify Alec gets in first. She can’t see Alec roll his eyes fondly, but she knows that he does. Magnus swerves with a smile, sending her a faux salute before Alec, who’s half in the limo, half hanging out grabs him by the waist pulling him backwards to tumble inside. A tan arm slips out quickly pulling the door shut and Aline shakes her head sending up a prayer to some higher power that Magnus’ driver has good ear plugs or a soundproof divider.

“Well they seem to be having a good night,” Helen says tugging on Aline’s hand.

Aline smiles turning back to her. She leans in laying a soft, easy kiss on Helen’s lips.

“They’re not the only ones.”

***

New Year’s Day – Morning

The morning sun burns bright in the sky and scattered across New York City five couples some new, some reunited and some looking towards the future set off on a new year filled with endless possibilities of love. Rebecca Lewis and Isabelle Lightwood text each other over breakfast a few doors down from one another discussing first date plans and Aline Penhallow wakes up to a face full of Helen Blackthorn’s blonde hair and snuggles in closer arms wrapping tight around soft skin.

Maryse Lightwood and Luke Garroway don’t go to sleep, they find a new 24 hour diner to call their own, finally learning the things they hadn’t the year before and Maia Roberts spends another New Year’s Day dancing in the kitchen with Clary Garroway, except this time it’s not a fresh relationship, this time they’re both thinking about going ring shopping tomorrow for the other.

And in a loft that’s been left nearly abandoned for months because it once felt haunted by the ghosts of their love Magnus Bane and Alec Lightwood burrow under the covers hiding from the morning light completely wrapped up in each other’s arms with the intention of never letting go.

[gabriellapatterson-blog]

Kiddo with a sweet tooth

A/N this is a fic with Gabby and Hazel set before the Sandcastle building fic. Thanks to @hazelschreave for the rp

Why does chocolate smell so good? I just wanna eat all of it. But *clenches fist* I just can't. I heard a noise as I worked and looked up to see Princess Hazel.

“Oh hello!” I stated.

She looked up at her phone and seemed to think for a moment trying to put a name to face, “Oh, hey, you're weed breakfast girl!” She exclaimed causing me to break out into laughter. Wow what a way to be known

“Yup thats me. And you're the one who brought the cops into it.” I replied shaking me head a bit shamefully as I recalled the vine reference.

She put her phone into the pocket of her dress- how come I don’t have dress pockets? I’m going to be talking to my maids about this as a suggestion. “Yes, and my dad was the police apparently.” She replied as she walked over to me. “What are you up to here?” She asked.

“Making chocolates. I'm planning a date with your brother, might as well show off my best skill.” I chuckled a bit at my joke before asking if she’d like to try some.

She snorted, “This is your best skill? Chocolate making?”

“100% name something that could be better. Hearing? Being able to speak?” I scoffed, “no way. I can create the best thing ever.”

She laughed, “I don't think hearing is a skill.”

“Tell that to a deaf person. Hmm I guess I would still rather be able to make chocolate than know how to say the alphabet backwards. That's a skill.”

“Okay, that might be harder than it sounds. But isn’t it more of a “memorize it and you’ll get it” type of thing?”

“Hmm I suppose so so that really isn't a skill either. Maybe skiing? I'd rather be able to make chocolate than skii?”

“...well, skiing is a sport, but you could be skillful at it.” She said as she reached for a chocolate. “What about painting? That’s a skill.” She added.

“Well some people aren't necessarily skilled from the get go at painting, they've just learned over the years so is that a skill?”

“Once you learn how to do it correctly, I think you can call it that... maybe we need to look up what defines a skill in the dictionary though. Oh, wait!” She said and pulled out her phone to start to research. “Skill. Noun. The ability to do something well; expertise. The second option just says it’s a particular ability.”

“So if you paint or skii well then that would be considered a skill.” I replied.

She nodded and put her phone back in her pocket, “I do agree chocolate making sounds more handful than skiing. At least if you live in Angeles.”

“See, so it really is my best skill. I mean ignoring the fact that I play 8 sports.” Well that just sounds braggy, Gabby.

She raised an eyebrow, “I see someone was a high school jock.”

I chuckled, “More like was a jock from the womb. Do you play anything?”

“Taekwondo. And ballet if you want to count it as a sport. My list is sadly not as impressive as yours must be.”

“Ballet is 100% a sport. And yours are more difficult than mine. I just do things like surfing and running and tennis. Not nearly as difficult in my mind.”

She smiled, “Thanks. I guess you only get points for versatility. I actually know how to play tennis too though. Its just... not /my sport/, if you know what I mean.”

“I get what you mean. I play the 7 other but more of for fun and just as a pass time. Surfing is the one I'd say is /my sport/. How'd you get into the fighting and ballet?”

“I was always sprinting around the palace-” She paused for a moment to chuckle, “-so my parents didn't take long to suggest ballet. Taekwando was more of my decision though. They were a little surprised when I asked them to let me join a class for it a year later. Maybe I watched too many action movies with my siblings...but when one day, dad came back from one of his most recent trips to New Asia with a videoclip of a performance of skills he got to see, I just said I wanted to learn how to do that.”

“Well at least if there's ever intruders in the palace you can kick their asses.”

“Another reason I gave to start Taekwondo. I’m glad they let me do it in the end.”

“I enjoy it.” She added.

“You should teach me sometime. I haven't tried one of those fighting things before.”

“You mean martial arts?” She asked with a smirks. “I must admit, I'm probably not the best teacher.”

“Yup, and probably better than what I would learn from a youtube video in my room.” I chuckled since I’d likely do that later anyways, I like learning new things especially new sports.

She laughed as well, “I guess in comparison I would be better. It takes years to actually do it well though, you are aware?”

“Yup. Like a lot of sports. I suck at biking still since that was a recent addition. Though I didn't actually get to compete in a biking contest I applied for, thanks selection timing, so I guess it's more of a hobby.”

She chuckled, “You were going to participate in a biking competition before this?”

“Yup. It looked fun. I tried to get my friend to do it with me but sadly she said no. As a freeloader for an occupation I have a lot of freetime to do things like that.” I said as I finished mixing the strawberry filling.

“Wanna try some of the strawberry filling?” I offered.

She nodded and looked at the contents of the bowl, “I expect these to be top notch chocolates just so you know.”

I chuckled, “I'd lower your expectations a few. I haven't made them in awhile and I can't test them myself since I'm allergic to strawberries and there's actual strawberry in it.”

“How can you make something you're allergic too? Isn’t that just tempting yourself?”

“well as long as I don't eat them I'm fine. And it is tempting, very. But not having flavors and just the different types of chocolates would be boring.”

“How can you tell if they're good without someone helping you though?”

“Hmmm well I haven't actually made them on my own before. I've only made chocolates 3 times before and each of them Emma was helping. I was planning on asking a maid or someone to taste test.”

“Good thing I am here.” She then frowned slightly, “This doesn't count as a skill anymore, however. You've only done this 3 times.”

That’s fair, “Does it count as a talent if it's really good chocolate?”

“Hmm, I guess talent could be it.” She then extended her hand, “I'll be the judge of that.”

I handed her a chocolate, “Time for the intensity.” I said referring to the intense moment of being unsure if the chocolate was good or not and waiting the response of Hazel.

She chewed it for a moment before covering her mouth and replying, “It’s good!”

I gave a small fish pump, “Yes still a chocolate genius!” I cheered.

She laughed and swallowed, “What are you even making these again?”

“For your brother. We're doing a sandcastle building contest so I thought food would go well with it.”

“Um... chocolate at the beach? With sand? I’m not sure if that’ll work out..” That’s what bins are for.

“I'll bring a box to put them in and a cooler container. I do beach picnics a lot at home since I live right by one.”

“Ah, you’re an expert, I see. I’ll trust your word for it...Can I have another one?” She asked.

These Schreaves seem to really like chocolate. “Sure thing.” I replied and gave her another. “also have dark, milk, and white in the fridge. Next I'm starting the last flavor which is caramel.”

“White?” She asked as her eyes quickly darted to the fridge, she must like white chocolate best. “When's that gonna be ready…?” She asked.

I couldn’t help but to laugh a bit at her eagerness. “A big fan of white chocolate I assume. They should be hard enough to try at this point.”

She practically skipped over to the fridge and placed her clasped hands behind her, rocking on her heels as she waited for me to get them out. Her eagerness reminded me a bit of Eliana. Though Ellie was 8 she was the same way when it came to sweets as Hazel seemed to be. Hazel probably is still just a kiddo at heart too.

I chuckled a bit and walked over and took the tray of white chocolates out, “You can take some with you if you'd like.”

“Don't mind if I do.” She replied happily then went around to get a small container to gather the chocolates in, “I'll just steal some of these and let you continue with your work.”

I chuckled a bit, “It's not really stealing if I gave you permission. So why did you come down here anyways?”

“Oh, I was just hoping to see--” She paused and seemed to decide that wasn’t how she wanted to say it. “see um, if the ratatouille Chef Gusteau is making will be ready soon.” I was couldn’t hold my laughter in at that.

“You have a chef named Gusteau who makes ratatouille?”

“He makes a lot of stuff, but his ratatouille is-” She made an Italian hand and kissed it, “pen-dropping.” She paused as she seemed to realize her mistake, “Let's pretend ratatouille is Italian.” for a second.

“Absolutely perfect-o. Hon hon hon.” I replied going along with the italian french confusion.

She laughed a bit, “Yes, after checking up on that I need to go get ready for my ballet class.”

“I'm sure you'll dance well with all those chocolates powering you though caloric energy. Just make sure to save room for your ratatouille.”

She closed her bin of chocolates and smirked, “Hopefully my sweet tooth won't beat me today.” Ah so other days it does beat her?

I chuckled, “Good luck with that, kiddo.”

She waved as she began to walk off, “Thanks for the chocolates!”

“You're welcome, have fun dancing!” I replied as she left and I returned to my chocolate making.