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crystaljins · 4 years ago

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Finding Christmas again

Characters: Taehyung x Reader

Word count: 21K

Synopsis: After a lifetime’s worth of turbulent and miserable Christmases with your family, you finally make the executive decision to spend this year’s Christmas alone.

However, when you take home a box of old Christmas decorations from your friend’s shop, it seems that this Christmas is set to be different from the others.

ChristmasScarecrow!Tae x human!Reader

Notes: Here it is!!! My contibution to the @thebtswritersclub secret santa (and also their monthly holiday prompt, Holiday/festival)!!! And my secret santa is.... *drum roll*....

Hi @pars-ley, Merry Christmas!!!!! I hope you enjoy your secret santa!!

Anyway, I know the premise sounds weird but bear with me!!!! It’s kinda cute, I promise!!

Rating: PG13

Genre: Fluff, angst

Warnings: Mentions of divorce, fighting, alcoholism, depression, mean step-siblings (OC’s family). Mentions of house break-ins, some kissing and some ANGST, santa is real, really poorly explained world mechanics that are kind of glossed over because I’m lazy LOL

For you, the start of the Christmas season is always marked by Seokjin unboxing the stock for his December-long Christmas sales. Any stock from the previous year that didn’t get sold gets lined up along the shelves along with a few new trinkets here and there. He pulls out a series of dusty cardboard boxes, soft and collapsing from age and within are numerous fraying, gaudy Christmas decorations he likes to string around the shop to give off a bit of a “festive” atmosphere. Of course, an overstocked, tacky dollar store can only be so “festive” but Seokjin never seems deterred.

This year, however, marks a change. You sit amidst towering, overflowing shelves whileJin beams at you over the counter of his tacky dollar store and slides the first of the decrepit and infamous cardboard boxes towards you.

“If you’re being stubborn and insisting on spending Christmas alone this year, at least put up some decorations.” He insists. Hesitantly, you peer inside- the tinsel has lost some of its magnificent sparkly mane, but it’s still passable and there’s a few tangled lights that you know from experience may have a bulb or two blown but are still somewhat useable.

“I guess I could,” you reluctantly agree. Your small apartment could definitely do with a little apartment sprucing. “You’re not going to decorate this year?” You question. Jin shakes his head and beams, gesturing to a series of brand new cardboard boxes, freshly shipped. They’re crisp and upright in a way that makes the old boxes look even more soggy and pathetic.

“I’ve done a little bit of online shopping this year and thought it would be nice to freshen up my decorations. And I know you could use some decorations so I knew my babies would be going to a good home.” He announces, positively giddy with delight. Christmas always leaves Jin on the edge of manic. Starting the month off with his birthday and then finishing it off with the entire world decked out in festivities is like giving him a month-long sugar rush. Nothing says festive season like the terrifying sparkle to his gaze.

“Well... thank you, I guess.” You say. You’re hesitant but grateful. You’re not the kind of person who hates Christmas or thinks the grinch was a victim, but it’s always been a season that didn’t ring as joyful for you as it seemed to for everyone else. After all, for you, Christmas had consisted of you hiding upstairs while your parents had screaming matches while they were still together, and then it had been a mix of being picked on by your step-siblings the years you were stuck with your father, and nursing your mother after she’d get drunk over eggnog and cry over her broken family when you spent it with your mother. Perhaps this is your chance to reclaim the season. “I can load these up in my car and then we can get started hanging up your new decorations?” You suggest, as Jin finishes balancing the till.

Jin nods absently, counting under his breath, before leaning against the counter with a smile.

“That would be absolutely fantastic. Your santa hat is in my office- don’t forget it!” He reminds you. You groan.

“Do we have to do this every year? It’s demeaning.” You complain. Jin nods and then ignores your grimacing, returning to counting the day’s takings.

With a heavy sigh, you take your time loading the boxes into your car, parked out the back of the shop, before ducking into his office. Sure enough, two embroidered Santa’s hats sit haphazardly on Jin’s desk. You tug one over your head and grab the other for him.

You’re not sure when this tradition of helping Seokjin set up his shop for Christmas began. If you’re being honest, you’re not even sure when you started being friends with him, but this has been a yearly tradition since he started the shop, and the closest you’ve ever gotten to Christmas cheer. Your job is to string out the decorations in the least gaudy manner possible while Jin arranges his Christmas stock on his already overflowing shelves.

Back in the shop, Jin has just finished locking up when you come down the stairs at the back. He turns to you and beams, before gesturing to the boxes filled with new decorations.

“Time to put that interior decorator eye to good use, (Y/N)!” He cries, clapping his hands enthusiastically together. You wince- it would take a lot more than some Christmas lights to fix the mess that is Seokjin’s shop. Even a professional interior decorator couldn’t fix this chaotic mess. His shop is ten years past a clearance sale.

Still, you walk over and begin to open up the boxes, sorting through the decorations until you come across an older box. You thought you’d loaded them all, but it looks like you’ve missed one.

“What’s this box, Jin?” You ask, peeling back the lid to find a series of old, musty decorations. Jin pauses in his detangling of some dangling star lights to look over your shoulder.

“Those are the decorations I put up for sale every year that never seem to go. Even the words “clearance” isn’t enough for people to want them.” He sighs, and he’s surprisingly melancholy as he looks upon the unwanted decorations. You’ve never had much to do with the things he chooses to sell- frankly you’re a little afraid with the things you may find should you venture into the labyrinth of his dollar store. Curious, you peel back the cardboard flap and peer inside at the myriad of unwanted decorations.

Oddly, it makes your heart twinge a little, to see the stock that has been stuck gatherinf dust for eleven months. As dramatic as it sounds, you know a thing or two about being unwanted.

Not that your parents ever implied you were unwanted! It’s just hard not to feel that way when you’re born to a couple who want nothing to do with each other. The constant back and forth between your two feuding parents had constantly made you feel more like a “pass-the-parcel” package than a human being.

And when your dad had remarried, he’d always insisted that you were welcome, but it’s not difficult to see how happy he is in his new family. How his stepchildren’s achievements made him smile or how he’d finally achieved the noisy, warm household he’d always dreamed of. The household he never had with you. And now even your mother is trying new things- she’d asked you to come with her to meet the family of her new boyfriend, but you couldn’t bring yourself to suffer through the awkwardness.

That’s why you’d chosen to spend this Christmas alone- because you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’re an afterthought when it comes to a holiday that involves spending time with your family. You exist, and you share their blood, but they have plans with people they actually chose to be in their lives. You’re welcome along, but not really wanted.

Jin watches the expression on your face with mild interest.

“Do you... want any of them?” He questions tentatively. “They’re a bit gaudy, but you could give them a home?”

You grimace at the ugly decorations- it’s not hard to see why no one wanted them. Tacky, corny baubles and cheap little mantle ornaments that a even a seventy year old grandmother would turn her nose up at.

But despite your general distaste, a tuft of red wool at the corner of the box catches your attention. You reach forward and tug it free.

A Christmas-themed scarecrow toy smiles back at you. Tufts of red, woollen hair peak out beneath his little santa’s hat, and two sewed on black buttons make up his eyes. His mouth is a simple stitched black line, a little upwards curve, and a little paint on upside down triangle makes his nose. He’s dress in a flannel shirt and overalls, but the overalls have a little christmas tree embroidered on the front and his flannel shirt has fluffy cuffs like the ends of a santa shirt. He’s sort of charming, if a little strange- why a christmas scarecrow? What an oddly specific decoration.

“I can kind of see why no one would want these.” You snort, though you don’t put him back. Jin nods sympathetically.

“This little guy has been with me for years. All the other decorations I bought with him eventually got sold but this guy is still unwanted.” He admits, taking the scarecrow from your hands to examine it fondly. “I even tried giving him away for free once but they didn’t want him.”

You bite your lip at that. The two button eyes stare up at you longingly, and for some reason you feel a sense of camaraderie with this stupid, gaudy christmas scarecrow.

If you’re taking a bunch of decorations, why not this guy? He clashes with every instinct you have in terms of decoration, but the thought of him sitting on a shelf, unwanted for a month only to go back in this dusty old box at the end of the year is too depressing for you to handle. With a sigh, you take him back from Jin.

“Might as well, since you dumped all your other old decorations on me.” You sigh.

And you miss the way Jin winks at the little scarecrow when you’re facing away from it.

You actually forget about the decorations for the next few days. They sit in your car, unpacked. You’re busy with work as they rush to wrap up the end of year projects before their deadlines. And it’s not like putting up decorations has a deadline, right? You put them up some time before Christmas and hopefully remember to take them down before February hits.

It’s when Autumn finally draws to a close and the first of December hits that you’re finally motivated to put them up. You’re in a deep clean kind of mood and when you duck out to your car to chuck out the various wrappers and old papers you’ve built up over autumn, you recall the boxes in your boot.

The little Christmas Scarecrow is the first thing you pull out once the boxes are unloaded into your home. The little button eyes gaze up at you mournfully, as if scolding you for leaving him unattended in your car for so long.

“Sorry little guy.” You sigh, straightening and setting him atop your mantle. He looks a little out of place with your decor but it feels right to place him there for some reason. This way he’s in full view of any guests that walk in. “Here. This can be your spot. Front and centre.” You tell him, and from this spot his button eyes look a little less mournful. With a smile, you begin puzzling out how to assemble Jin’s ratty old Christmas tree.

You’re in the middle of a youtube tutorial on how to make your tree appear fuller when your phone lights up with your mother’s contact image.

It takes you a few moments to steal yourself to answer her.

You aren’t on bad terms with your mother or anything. It’s just... for a few years after the divorce, when you probably needed her most, she just wasn’t your mother. And she’s done really well and gotten a lot of help and she’s in a really good place right now, but it’s still hard. It’s hard to talk to either of your parents, really.

“Hey mum.” You finally say as you answer the phone. You can guess what she’s going to ask- every since she found out you wouldn’t be going home for Christmas, she’s been doing her best to convince you otherwise.

“I was just at the store this morning,” she greets you. “And I saw all the ingredients for that christmas cake we used to make when you were small. Do you remember? And we always made it snowman-shaped and you’d cry when we’d eat it.”

You smile at the memory- it’s one of the very few fond ones you have on Christmas. When you were a very young child, before whatever your parents had between them went sour. Before life transitioned into hiding upstairs and trying to block out the sounds of shouting and being bounced back and forth between opposite sides of the country because your mother and father couldn’t even handle being in the same city together.

“I do remember.” You say.

“We could make it!” Your mother urges. “Just think- wouldn’t it be so fun? John has a daughter your age, and she loves to bake! She’s so eager to meet you too- we could-“

“Maybe next year, mum.” You say. “I’m just absolutely slammed at work this year. Besides, I’ll be down for your birthday soon. I’d just rather spend Christmas at home, this year.”

Your mother is silent for a moment. You know she didn’t miss the implications of your statement. When you had first moved out for studying, returning to your parent’s place had been “going home”. Even you’re not sure when avoiding your family for the holidays had morphed into “staying home.”

“I... I’m sorry. I know I keep bringing it up, but I heard from your father that you weren’t going to spend it with him either and I... I don’t like the thought of you alone for Christmas.” She finally says. “I know I’ve failed you in a lot of ways, but I don’t want this to be one of them. John’s wonderful and his family would love to have you. We could make room for you.”

You go quiet for a moment. Your mum is trying her very best. You know that- you know that so well and yet you can’t. You just can’t do it. You don’t have it in you to brave through Christmas with either of your parents and play happy families and pretend that the years of misery didn’t happen. You don’t want a Christmas where people are “making room” for you. You want to have a place that is just inherently yours.

“Next year.” You promise. Next year you’ll have steeled yourself. Next year you’ll have it together. Next year you can try again. Next year you’ll be a little stronger and more resilient and then you can face the mess of your broken family.

Your mother sighs on the other end, in a sad, disappointed sort of way.

“Next year.” She finally says, and there’s a promise in her words. Next year she’ll be better too. She’ll keep trying.

You stay on the phone a little longer, and when you hang up you just spend a moment in your empty apartment. Boxes are sitting, strewn around you and currently the only decoration is your little Christmas Scarecrow.

Oddly, he almost looks judgemental as he peers at you through the buttons.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh, getting to your feet and beginning the process of organising the Christmas decorations. “It’s complicated. You don’t know my mum and I know she loves me and I know she’s trying... but it’s... it’s just complicated, ok?”

You continue to ramble as you finish up your decorations. It’s quite therapeutic, talking to an inanimate object. It almost feels like he’s listening- there’s something warm in the little stitched mouth and button eyes. You and your scarecrow, both unwanted on Christmas day. You tell him about your parent’s divorce, about your past Christmases. About Jin and your friendship with him. About your decision to be alone for Christmas this year because neither of your parent’s offers seemed particularly appealing.

By the time you’ve finish, your apartment actually looks decent. The Christmas tree sits in the corner, decorated with baubles covered in chipped paint and balding tinsel. There’s lights strung across the ceiling and across your mantle and maybe there’s one or two missing spots, and maybe it’s just a little tacky, but it’s warm. It’s home. You’ve carved out a little home for yourself in this apartment, and maybe it’s not perfect, but you like it.

When you fall asleep on the couch, exhausted, you dream of ringing sleigh bells and cheerful Christmas tunes.

You awaken suddenly. Your heart is in your throat.

There’s someone in your apartment. You can hear them rummaging around in the kitchen. You don’t know how they got there, but terror fills you.

The first thing you do is discreetly reach for your phone. You want to call the emergency number but you don’t want the intruder to know you’re awake in case they retaliate. Instead, you shoot a text to Jin.

There’s someone in my house. You text. The response is almost immediate.

I’m on my way. He responds. You resist the urge to groan. You’d told him so that he could call the police, not so that he could play hero.

You roll off the couch and sneak closely to the wall. A metal bat rests there- a housewarming gift from Namjoon when he first learnt you’d be living alone. You never thought you’d have to use it. You never forget to lock your doors and surely no one has the guts to scale a building and come in through your balcony, right?

Still, you’re grateful for it now as you grip the handle tightly between both fists.

Hesitantly and quietly, you inch towards the kitchen. The light is on and you can make out a figure bustling inside.

With a cry, you rush forward, swing the back in a downwards arc.

Only for your terrified intruder to whip around and catch the bat with the palms of his hands. Ignoring the fact that he just caught the full swing of a metal bat without flinching, you try and pull your bat back to tru for another swing.

But he merely tightens his grip on the bat and this gives you time to take in his appearance.

There’s a lot of striking things about the man’s appearance. Bright, brilliantly red hair, the colour of Christmas ribbons and raspberries, a straight, prominent nose. A sharp, well-defined jawline and two warm, dark eyes, almost familiar in their dark shade.

It’s hard to know what to take in first. His startlingly handsome face, his brightly coloured hair, or his outlandish outfit. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone look cute in tacky, Christmas themed overalls or a flannel shirt that’s an odd mix of a Santa’s hat and a farmer’s uniform. Complete with the Santa’s hat and the bright red hair, the man could almost be twins with your Christmas Scarecrow.

“Who are you?” You demand. You attempt another futile tug on your bat, but the man’s grip is firm.

“Don’t panic, (Y/N)!” He urges. His voice is deep and velvety but edged with a little terror. Your eyes widen.

“How do you know my name?” You demand. If you weren’t afraid before, you are now.

“Seokjin said it! In the store, a few days ago!” He cries, still pressing firmly against your metal bat. Despite you pressing your whole weight into it, it doesn’t budge a centimetre closer towards him.

“So you’re a stalker?” You cry.

“No!” He counters. “It’s me, (Y/N)! The scarecrow!”

That startles you enough to relax your grip on the metal bat. He senses the lapse in your grip and tugs the metal bat free. He holds it away from you and approaches you slowly, cautiously.

“I was just making you some hot chocolate.” He says slowly. “You seemed sad after your phone call with your mum and I wanted to comfort you.”

He’s crazy- a crazy guy has broken into your house and has been listening to your conversations for who knows how long, and has been stalking you before that.

“How long have you been stalking me for, you psycho?” You demand. His eyes widen in horror.

“I’m not a stalker!” He insists. “I’m your scarecrow- turn around and I can prove it!”

“What? So that you can stab me while my back is turned?” You demand. You make a grab for the bat. “Get out of my house!”

He manages to throw the bat backwards and grab both your shoulders as you lunge for him. With impressive strength he presses on your shoulders and spins you around. In the same motion, he shoves you forward a few steps and you stumble to re-gain your balance.

Enraged and terrified, you whip around, ready to retaliate.

Only, he’s gone. Where a weird red-haired man previously stood, your kitchen is now empty.

The counters are scattered with objects- your milk is out, and an open tin of cocoa, a few of your spice jars are laid neatly next to the pile of pots.

And, sitting neatly where the man had been not a moment before, is your little Christmas Scarecrow. He smiles up at you, button eyes gleaming like he knows something you don’t.

You can’t help it- you crumble before it. The post-adrenaline crash hits hard and you stare dumbly at the embroidered smile for a moment.

“It’s a dream.” You finally conclude to yourself. “This is some messed-up nightmare and tomorrrow this haunted scarecrow can go right back to Jin’s store.”

You grab it and hold it at a distance, your arms outstretched like it smells bad.

“This is fine.” You assert. “It’s a dream. Just. Just go back here. And I’ll go... run into a wall or something. And this will all be some sort of fever dream.”

You settle the Christmas Scarecrow back into its rightful spot on your mantle, before turning around. You take a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself to run full speed at the wall just opposite.

“‘Haunted’ is a little much, don’t you think?” The same velvety voice from earlier asks, and you turn to find the very same intruder leaping off your mantle onto the ground. “I’m not a ghost, or anything.”

He comes to stand in front of you, arms folded and lips pulled into a frown. Looking upon him now, you see the similarities to the Christmas Scarecrow- even the loose thread in the embroidered tree of his overall pockets is identical. It... it really is your Christmas Scarecrow, standing before you in human form.

You nod to yourself, a peaceful wave of acceptance washing over you and-

No wait, never mind. That wave is nausea- you’re blacking out.

When you come to, you’re arranged neatly on your couch with your scarecrow hovering over you. You almost want to faint again, but you hold strong.

“You’re awake!” He cheers, waving a damp towel around. He’s been dipping it in a bowl of cool water and pressing it against your forehead and you flinch as his actions send icy drops over water scattering across your face.

“And you used to be a scarecrow.” You grumble, sitting up. You squint and lean in closely, taking in every detail. Each mark on his skin, each strand of bright red hair, the smooth curve of his smile... it’s so human. Probably the most ethereal and beautiful human to walk the planet, but still human. One of his eyelids is a monolid and the other is a double lid and one of his front teeth is just slightly longer than the other and yet the effect is that he’s just so charming. Far too beautiful to be sitting in your tacky, poorly decorated apartment and far too beautiful to be spending most of his time as a cringe-y christmas-themed scarecrow that Jin probably fished out of the bottom of a clearance basket at a thrift shop and thought he could get away with re-selling. “You have maybe thirty seconds to explain before I call the police. Or an exorcist. Or both.”

He holds up his both his hands in surrender.

“Wait. Please.” He pleads. The desperate way he says the words makes you pause. Honestly, the sane thing to do would be to kick him out. Leave the weird, haunted scarecrow out on the street to fend for himself and go about your days as if this particular little supernatural incident never occurred.

You sigh.

“Just... please tell me what’s going on.” You finally say. “I won’t do anything drastic, but at least explain.”

Relied and gratefulness shines in his eyes and he clasps your hands gratefully between his own. Your attention is momentarily caught by the way his large hands dwarf your own. The bony prominences of his knuckles catch your attention- they shift and glide beneath his skin as his grip around your hand tightens. For some reason, the tiny action seems huge. You lift your gaze slowly to meet his eyes, which are round and warm.

“My name is Taehyung.” He explains. “And I’m a Christmas Spirit.”

“Christmas Spirit?” You echo in bewilderment. Taehyung nods eagerly and sits forward. He pulls his legs together so that he can sit cross-legged and wraps his hands around his ankles.

“Yup!” He says, and he’s surprisingly nonchalant despite the supernatural implications of his statement. “We’re beings that come about from the magic of the season. And our job is to spread Christmas cheer to whoever welcomes us into their home.”

As if that’s just a normal thing that someone can spring on you and not expect you to panic! Yet he announces it like he’s a five year old excited to explain the drawing he made of you in school that day. All you can really manage is to nod mutely for a moment. Despite the absurdity of his words, it certainly sounds like what you had done- taken a tacky, unwanted Christmas decoration and welcomed it into your home.

“And that’s you, (Y/N).” He says warmly, and the way he says your name is so fond. Like you’re his oldest, most valued friend. It startles you- you don’t think you’ve ever had the syllables of your name pronounced with such care, like they are a precious gift. “You are the first human to ever welcome me into your home. All my friends eventually found people to take them, and I’m the last one to remain. I’ve never gotten to fulfil my duty, not even once.”

“Why not?” You croak out. Why was there a random little christmas ornament in Seokjin’s store that held this kind of power? Why did it end up with you? Who was this mysterious man in your house, gazing at you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him?

“Well, it’s probably not hard to tell.” He admits, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck and then adjusting the santa’s hat atop his head. “Not many people want a Christmas-themed Scarecrow for a decoration. At least not around here.” He sighs. But then he turns to you and his gaze is bright. It’s a little blinding, his mega-watt smile, and it’s certainly overwhelming to have the full force of it directed at you. “But you gave me a chance! You took me home!”

“So... you spread Christmas cheer for me? What does that even mean? What happens when you finish?” You say, leaning back just a little to give yourself room to breath. His scent fills your nostrils and it’s overwhelming. A pleasant mix of christmas scents- gingerbread, cinammon, peppermint. It sits thick in the back of your throat like the pleasant burn of a hot, sweet drink.

He looks surprised at the line of questioning and a frown replaces the warm, glowing look he’d borne just moments earlier.

“Well, I’m not sure. I suppose when I finish then you put me away for a year or you pass me on to someone else.” He admits. “This is my first time, so I’m still learning the ropes.” He’s a little sheepish as he admits it. But then his gaze lights up again and he pulls himself up onto the couch so that he can sit shoulder-to-shoulder with you. “But spreading Christmas cheer is just helping you enjoy the season! You haven’t had a great experience with Christmas, right? I can help!”

You stiffen as you recall earlier that day; you had essentially aired all your dirty laundry to what you’d thought was an inanimate object. Taehyung now knew more about you than even some of your closest friends did. You’d unintentionally opened up and made yourself vulnerable to some guy you hardly knew. The thought has you recoiling. You’re not against the idea of opening up- certainly when people ask the right questions, you’ll answer honestly. But people rarely ask and you’ve never volunteered. No one has has access to every dirty detail like Taehyung now does.

And for some reason that thought has you terrified.

“I’m... I don’t mean to burst your bubble, Taehyung.” You volunteer quietly. Taehyung stiffens at the tone of your voice. “You seem like a nice enough guy. Or spirit. Or scarecrow. Whatever you are. And I hope that one day you’ll find someone you can give lots of Christmas cheer to. But I didn’t sign up for this. I don’t want any of it- the “Christmas cheer” or the festivities, or anything. I’m just...” you inhale deeply. “I’m just trying to make the most of what I have.”

You get to your feet, your back facing him.

“You can stay the night, but I’ll take you back to Jin in the morning. I’ll see if I can convince any of my friends to take you, if you like.”

A slight tug on the sleeve of your jumper stops you from leaving. You glance down at your wrist. Taehyung has just the tip of your sleeve, pinched between his fingers. It’s not enough pressure to stop you from leaving. The slightest tug would liberate you from his grasp and you’d be free to go back to your room.

“No one else will.” He admits quietly. There’s a sort of heart-aching tone to his voice that makes that tiny grip feel like he’s handcuffed to you. “I waited for five years in that store. I’d sit in a box for eleven months of the year, and hope that this year would be the one someone chose me and every day of December that passed I’d watch people walk right past me. And before that, I was passed around from store to store. People would keep me in the store until they realised I’d never sell and then they’d palm me off to someone else. They didn’t even have the guts to get rid of me. And I’d watch as the objects around me got chosen. They got sent to good homes. But never me. I have waited twenty five christmases for someone to let me in. You’re the first.” He quietly admits. He hasn’t changed or adjusted his grip on your sleeve. Just that tenuous, fragile grip, that little bit of hope that can be snapped at any moment keeps you in place. “Please.” He breathes.

You stare at his fingers, at the tacky cuffs of his sleeve, at his hopeful, pleading expression.

You don’t have to do this. He’s asking you, but he won’t force you. You can say no and have the bleary, lonely Christmas you’d originally planned. You can keep pushing everyone away and forever allow Christmastime to be a holiday of heartbreak for you.

Or you could let this random Christmas Scarecrow and his sparkly, bright eyes into your home.

“Ok.” You finally say. “My work hasn’t shut down yet so I’m gonna be super busy for the next few weeks. But in between you can give it a go.”

The answering smile he gives you in turn has your heart fluttering in anticipation.

Maybe Christmas won’t be so bad this year.

Although you had had every intention of welcoming Taehyung into your home and applying yourself to the festivities as best you could, your workplace dials everything up to eleven over the next few days, just as predicted. Taehyung, to his credit, doesn’t whine or complain. He spends most of the day while you are at work in his scarecrow-form or binging netflix on your account and he spends his evenings stretched on the couch, or beaming at you over dinner. It’s kind of like having a loyal golden retriever to come home to, but maybe with better manners.

It’s actually kind of pleasant. You occasionally catch him humming Christmas tunes and he keeps leaving his Santa hat in strange places but otherwise he’s a rather nonintrusive roommate. He even makes you dinner on occasion and he’s not a terrible cook.

It’s only as the weekend approaches and you’re contemplating how to spend it that it occurs to you that Taehyung hasn’t left the house once. It’s not like he can just wonder down the street in his scarecrow outfit- it’s not exactly designed to withstand subzero temperature. And you’ve been so slammed at work that it never occurred to you that you’d essentially let the poor guy stay with you and then left him to the equivalent of house arrest.

“Do you do much during the week?” You ask Taehyung across dinner that night. You had quickly learned that he does need to eat and shower and sleep like every human but he can stave it off by staying in his scarecrow form, and so dinner time had just become a shared meal most evenings. He had even waited in his scarecrow form for you to get back on the days you had finished late that week. He pauses through a mouthful of pasta and looks up, cheeks bulging.

“Not much.” He confesses, after a noisy swallow. “I don’t really have anywhere to go.” He reminds you.

Guilt churns in your stomach and sours your dinner. You had promised him you’d give him a chance, and yet here you were a week later, making him fend for himself in an unfamiliar and empty apartment with nothing to do but watch netflix and raid your pathetic excuse of a pantry.

“Right.” You sigh, thoroughly chastened. “I... forgot. I’m sorry- work just hit me really hard.”

“It’s fine.” Taehyung dismisses. “It’s my job to entertain you, not the other way round!”

You stir awkwardly at your food, still unable to dispel the guilt.

“Even so... we could go somewhere tomorrow, if you want? I have the weekend off.” You offer as nonchalantly as you can. “If you’re here for the rest of the month, you’ll need clothes. And proper bedding. We can pick that stuff up and then do some other things.”

He positively beams at your offer and it’s jarring. You aren’t used to such joy at such simple things. It’s so easy to win a smile from him, but rather than make his smiles seem meaningless, it just seems to make them brighter. You’re not used to earning such easy affection for so little and it leaves you unsure what to do with yourself.

“Really?” He questions eagerly. “The whole day?”

You duck your head slightly to disguise your fluster. You’re not even sure why your heart seems to race at his smile. Perhaps because you’ve never seen such a beautiful person smile quite like that.

“The whole day.” You reassure him. “I can make up for this week- I really didn’t mean to ignore you like this.”

Taehyung shakes his head.

“Don’t be silly!” He scolds you. “You told me that work would be busy. It just means we have to make your weekend even more enjoyable to make up for a missed week.”

He gets abruptly to his feet, wiping pasta sauce from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh, I have so much to plan! Can I borrow your laptop? I have to plan our day!” He asks. A little startled, you merely nod at him in bewilderment and he grins determinedly to himself. “Ok! My first day on the job. Here I go.”

He storms off and then performs a quick u-turn.

“After I clean up my dishes.” He recalls sheepishly.

The next morning you shuffle into your kitchen a bit bleary-eyed and still in your pyjamas. Taehyung never seems to be tired or grumpy no matter what time of day it is, and so it’s not surprise that he’s up and humming to himself as he cooks breakfast for the two of you.

He hears you shuffle in the kitchen and glances over his shoulder to smile at you and it catches you off-guard for some reason. You’ve gotten used to him cooking meals, to his singing, even to just his general presence, but you can’t seem to get used to the way he seems to just smile so easily. Something about the way the wintery sun streams in through the windows and catches the tips of his hair and gilding the sharp edges of his handsome face is just ethereal. You can believe he’s not a human in that moment- he’s too gorgeous to be one.

“You’re up!” He cheers. You shake your head to try and rid yourself of your strange thoughts and shuffle forward to scrutinise the breakfast he’s preparing.

“I’m making a Christmas classic.” He informs you when he notices you attempting to peer over his shoulders. “At least, according to her.” He gestures to your ipad on the counter, where he has one of those food blogs run by stay-at-home mums that write essays on their blogs instead of the actual recipes. This one seems to have a picture of tacky santas made from pancakes and whipped cream.

Looking at Taehyung’s progress so far, it actually looks fairly similar to the picture, but that’s not saying that much considering the quality of the picture.

“Isn’t that like cannabalism for you? Isn’t eating Santa basically eating your coworker?” You point out. Taehyung laughs, a full-bodied laugh that makes his eyes curl up into little crescent moons.

“He’s actually my boss more than my coworker. But he loves Santa-themed decorations. He says it makes him feel jolly.” He tells you.

There’s a lot to unpack there and so you choose to ignore it by occupying yourself with the cleanup.

“So I was thinking that we can get some clothes for you today and maybe some other necessities if you’re going to be staying here all month.” You inform him. Taehyung nods distractedly, gently nudging one of the santa pancakes onto a plate. He reaches for a bowl of blueberries, arranging them into eyes and then spraying whipped cream in the shape of a beard. It kind of seems like he’s not very interested in your schedule for the day.

“Tadaa!” He exclaims, showing off his creation. He then reaches for a blueberry and pops it in his mouth. “They’re not bad for frozen fruits.”

“Looks great.” You praise him. “But the plan for today-“

“(Y/N).” Taehyung cuts you off. He looks a little stern, but there’s still a warmth to his expression that softens the harsh edges. “I told you I’d plan today. It’s my job to make your Christmas season enjoyable. I’m not here for you to babysit- got it?”

Chastened and surprised, you nod meekly. He grins.

“Good. Now open up.” He says, brandishing a blueberry menacingly between his fingertips at you. Your eyes widen.

“But Tae-“ you protest, and he’s shoved the blueberry into your mouth before you can finish your counterargument. This time, when he smiles, it’s a little smug.

“No “buts”.” He sighs. “Just sit down and enjoy breakfast and trust me. We can pick up some

clothes since the Christmas overalls are a bit weird, but after that, then I take over. Ok?” He demands, and you chew through the blueberry, a little disconcerted.

“Ok.” You finally agree reluctantly.

Breakfast is a peaceful affair, with the two of you enjoying the pancakes. Cleaning up with Taehyung is almost domestic- there’s something pleasant about having him stand shoulder to shoulder with you, drying the dishes as you wash them.

Outside is a frigid affair- it hasn’t quite hit the point where it’s snowing outside, but temperatures are definitely creeping lower and lower and Taehyung nearly glows blue in the short sprint to your car. You fix it by blasting the heater the second the two of you are safely secured in the vehicle.

“So, if you’re planning the agenda for today, what are we doing after we grab you some clothes?” You ask conversationally. Taehyung pauses from where he’s flicking through your phone, scrutinising your spotify playlist like he’s studying it for an exam. He looks up, his eyebrows still furrowed in concentration.

“Well, I called in a favour from an old friend and booked us a free Christmas bauble painting workshop.” He announces, looking pleased with him. You squint at him and grimace just a little.

“I don’t know if you know this, Taehyung, but I am terrible at drawing. I’m so bad that in highschool all these kids signed a petition to ban me from it.” You say, completely serious. He stares at you, bewildered for a moment.

“Surely it can’t be that bad?” He wonders aloud. You just shake your head grimly at him.

One shopping trip later, Taehyung discovers that it is, in fact, that bad.

“What did Rudolph ever do to deserve this?” He questions in abject horror. You feel your cheeks heat as you curl your hands protectively over your glass bauble.

“It’s not that bad!” You insist. And then you hesitate. “Is it?”

Taehyung pries your fingers back to expose your masterpiece- splotchy brown paint, sparkles, and a lovely dollop of red paint in the centre.

“(Y/N).” He says seriously. “It looks like someone walks into Santa’s stable, massacred all the reindeer and then scattered glitter over the scene of the crime.”

You squint at your painting, and, depressingly enough, his description is more accurate than what it’s meant to be. It was meant to be Rudolph, smiling happily through the glass of the bauble.

“Forget it.” You snap, setting the glass bauble down and moving to get up. “This is stupid, anyway- we still have to pick up a mattress protector for your bed.”

“Wait!” He laughs, grabbing at your sleeve before you can make a hasty retreat. A firm tug from his has you landing back in your seat, face to face with the awful paint spill you call a painting. “I’m sorry! Just relax, ok? This is supposed to be fun.”

“I’m not having fun.” You sniff. “I told you I wasn’t good at painting and now you’re laughing at me.”

Taehyung winces.

“Well... it’s not totally unsalvageable.” He finally compromises. He picks up the bauble, examining it for a moment. And then he picks up the paintbrush, and with quick, precise strokes of his paintbrush, he morphs the brown splotch formally known as Rudolph into a sort of sleigh-shape, and the red-splotch is rounded into the curve of Santa’s belly. “There.” He says, satisfied. You blink in wonder at the new creation. It’s still a little ugly and a little streaky, but it definitely doesn’t look like someone went on a Christmas-killing spree. “How’s that? Now you just have to decorate the sleigh an add sparkles. Surely you can’t mess that up.”

“You underestimate me.” You deadpan at him, and to your surprise, he snorts with laughter. A couple of the other people painting baubles glare at you, and Taehyung merely offers them a merry grin.

“There used to be an elf like you at Santa’s workshop. No matter what he did, he’s somehow always mess up painting the toys.” Taehyung recalls, shaking his head fondly. “The two of you would get along.”

It’s the second time he’s mentioned it, and this time you can’t keep your curiosity at bay.

“So... does that mean you’ve met with Santa? The Northpole and all that is a thing?” You ask. Taehyung nods.

“It sure is! It’s where all Christmas Spirits grow up. We get raised there and taught about the best ways to spread Christmas cheer and then we get sent out to spread the cheer.” He sighs warmly. “I was top of my class.”

You grimace as you picture it. Dozens of Christmas Scarecrows, sitting at tables, studying books on how to paint the perfect Christmas bauble.

“And so you just... get kicked out after a certain age? They raise you and send you out to sit on a shelf for eleven months of the year and then follow silly Christmas traditions for the last one?” You question him, and for a moment you’re horrified by the loneliness of such an existence. “Wouldn’t you... just get sick of Christmas? Spending your life only ever being in Christmas mode?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Taeyung reminds you as he sprinkles glitter over his painting of a snowman. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered by the idea, but you feel like he’s slapped you. “This is my first official Christmas on the job, remember? I haven’t had a chance to get sick of it yet.”

That makes you go silent.

Taehyung seems to pick up on the way the mood has shifted. He stops detailing the buttons of his snowman painting and glances at you. Your eyes are wide and slightly misty.

He’s never felt particularly sorry for himself. Sure, the many years he’s spent gathering dust on a shelf have been lonely. He missed his friends, and all he could ever dream of was getting to sit on a mantle as he watched a family enjoy Christmas. That would be the closest he’d ever get, and that’s been his dream for so long.

But for some reason, with you looking at him like that, the ache that he’s sought so hard to push down resurfaces. It’s like a damn breaking; it’s soothing. To have someone look at him and actually be acknowledging how hard and lonely and painful what he went through was.

“I’m ok now.” He reassures you, though his voice is a little hoarse. The sheen to his eyes is a little less brilliant, and your heart aches for him as you process the twenty-five year wait that Taehyung has endured. “After all, someone welcomed me into their home, right?”

You blink- that someone is you. You’ve welcomed Taehyung into your home. Christmas is perhaps even lonelier for Taehyung than it is for you, and yet all he seems to want to do is make it enjoyable for you.

You duck your head, distracting yourself by stirring the tip of your paintbrush in the bright red paint.

“I guess so.” You finally say. You offer him a tentative smile. “I guess I have a responsibility to make this your best Christmas ever, then.” You resolve.

Taehyung is silent for such a prolonged moment that you’re forced to face him again to ensure he hasn’t died. When you do, what you find is him gaping at you like a Christmas tree just sprouted from between your eyebrows.

“What?” You question, a little defensively. It’s hard to interpret the look on his face.

He shakes himself, coming back to his senses.

“Nothing.” He reassures you. “I just realised that you’re a bit rare to smile, is all.”

Something about the look in his eyes has you feeling flustered- your fingers tremble enough that you knock over the glitter and it spills across Taehyung’s newly bought trousers. You get up quickly, horrified, but he laughs it off.

“I think we’ve done enough damage to these baubles.” He says with a warm smile. “We still have things to buy, right?”

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Taehyung drags you from store to store, excited by the smallest things. He stares at a Christmas-themed hot chocolate for so long that you end up having to buy it for him. The look of gratefulness in his eyes is unparalleled and almost makes up for the fact that you literally have to plead with him to buy actual clothes and not just ridiculous Christmas Sweaters. In the evening, you wonder the shopping district, appreciating the lights that line the main street in brilliant arrays.

When you slump down on your couch beside Taehyung that night, showered and ready for bed, you’re exhausted to the bones. Oddly, it’s not the same kind of tiredness you feel after a long week at work or after you’ve had a long argument with your mother. Instead, it’s a satisfying fatigue- like you’ll drift off quickly and dream of christmas lights and children’s laughter.

“How did I do for my first day?” Taehyung yawns from where he is sprawled on the couch in a similar position to you.

“Good.” You say, turning your head to glance at him. The dim light of your living room softens the slope of his nose, and his dark eyes catch flashes of the light that makes it seem like his irises are tiny little galaxies. There’s something so inherently peaceful about the warmth of his presence beside yours .

“I’m glad.” He says, though his lashes flutter and you too find yourself fighting off the comforting waves of sleep. He shifts and turns his head so that his cheek rests against the couch and he gazes at you. “Hey (Y/N)?” He calls gently.

Your eyes are closed by this state.

“Hmm?” You hum, in acknowledgement of his statement. He’s quiet for a moment before he ask.

“Why did you want to spend Christmas alone?” He asks. You blink open your eyes and look back at him. His gaze is steady and unwavering. But it’s not scolding or judgemental- instead he just seems curious.

“You told me about your parent’s divorce and all their fighting on Christmas... but I heard the way you spoke to your mother on the phone too. You want to spend Christmas with her, don’t you? You just... can’t?” He asks. “You said you didn’t want the Christmas cheer... but you still took me home and decorated for Christmas. You painted the baubles and drank the hot cocoa and did the Christmas shopping... why do you pretend to hate it all?”

If it were anyone else, you would probably stop the conversation there. You have no interest in delving into your long, complex family history only to be met with looks of confusion, or worse, pity.

But somehow, in the short space of a mere week, Taehyung has become someone you feel safe opening up to. Perhaps it’s because he’s already heard your whole story already. Or maybe because of the way he genuinely just wants to see you smile despite there being no substantial gain for him other than job satisfaction. Or because he’s proven himself trustworthy in the little ways he’s slotted himself into your life, like sharing meals. Whatever the reason, you don’t clam up like you usually do.

“I don’t pretend to hate it.” You tell him softly. “I just got sick of trying to love it.”

Taehyung is silent for a long period of time. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, exhausted and sleepy. The weight of your confession hangs in the air, and the moment is strangely intimate.

Then he smiles.

“Then I’ll keep trying for you.” He promises.

The two of you don’t manage to stay awake for much longer. Eventually the long day catches up to you- you drift off first, with one of those rare but peaceful smiles on your face, and Taehyung follows suit soon after.

The week that follows is one of the worst you’ve had in a while. You’re putting in ridiculous amounts of overtime and everyone is a little on edge from sheer exhaustion and the mounting stress of deadlines.

And in that time, Taehyung is honestly a lifesaver. It’s remarkable, being able to come home from another hellish day at work to find him with dinner ready and a crappy Christmas movie set up. You spend your evenings laughing and unwinding. It’s not like you don’t have friends who will come rushing if you tell them you’ve had a bad day, but there’s something special about the way Taehyung does it. With bright smiles and easy laughs and an infectious joy that seems to chase the fatigue that plagues you away.

It’s towards the end of the week that you hit your limit. You’re not really the type to cry much. You’ve always been fiercely independent, and your upbringing meant that you were the kind of child to retire to your room and work things out for yourself when you felt the need to cry. It’s not like crying ever really achieved anything. Maybe the occasional sad scene in a movie would get you, but usually you’re the kind to feel sad internally.

But after this particular day, you’re close to tears. Your boss had yelled at you, one of the major projects you had been working on just hit a major snag, and you found out your favourite coworker was leaving.

All you can thing about as you walk in the door is spending another peaceful evening with Taehyung. You’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time to expand his taste past cheesy Christmas movies and had even made a list of films he may like during his lunch break. You swing open the door to your home, eagerly rushing in and calling out to Taehyung so that he knows you’re home.

And that’s when your phone goes off.

It’s your father, probably the last person you want to talk to right now.

Unlike your mother, who at least was trying to make up for the ways she’s screwed up in your upbringing, your father has never acknowledged his part in their divorce. It was always what your mother did wrong, how she let him down, how it was because she changed and wanted different things. He was the kind of man who always wanted a big family, and he had adored your mother at first. But her pregnancy with you had been difficult and you had, admittedly, been a sickly child. She’s never outright said the words, but you suspect postpartum depression might have played a part in her downward spiral. Either way, she had resolved to have no further children after you, something your father was heavily against.

You suppose it can’t have been easy- your father had been in love and the two of them had agreed on the kind of future they wanted together- the kind filled with children, a quiet suburban life not far from either of their parents. And for your mother to change so suddenly and drastically would have been devastating and incomprehensible to your father.

Still, you can’t help the resentment and hurt you feel towards him. Why did you have to get caught in the crossfire of his heartbreak? And then the icing on the cake was his remarriage.

His wife is a lovely woman. Coming into the marriage with three children of her own, she had treated you with the same love and kindness she expected of your father towards her children. Her children, however, were not bound to such conduct, and made it their personal mission to make your life a living hell. Perhaps they felt insecure over the fact that your father was related to you by blood and they weren’t.

Either way, it put him in a difficult position- perhaps he felt he couldn’t tell them to back off without it coming across as favouritism. But he could have done something- spoken to his wife, or chosen you before the family he married into. But he didn’t. He ignored it and turned a blind eye and to this day he continues to pretend that things are normal. Especially after the birth of your half-sibling.

“Hi.” You say, as you answer the phone. Taehyung has stepped into the entryway with you, watching curiously as you answer the phone.

“Hi sweetheart!” Your dad calls on the other side of the line. You wince at the unwelcome nickname.

“To... to what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask. You can hear a loud racket in the background. Its probably your half-sister. She’s always been on the louder side, even as a baby.

“Nothing! I was just thinking it’s been a while since we last chatted. You haven’t been returning my calls.” You have no doubt the sadness in his voice is genuine, yet somehow it feels insincere.

“I’ve just been really busy at work.” You lie, rather than admit you had seen the missed calls from him and not even bothered to listen to the messages he left. “I haven’t had a chance to call you back.”

“Right... right. No, that’s fine. I’m sure your very busy.” He rushes to reassure you. “I was just calling because your mother contacted me. She was hoping I could convince you to spend Christmas with us.”

You stiffen at the familiar topic. You had thought it had been a little too quiet on her end. Perhaps she had thought that if she couldn’t convince you to come home, maybe your father could. She’s always had this idea in her head that maybe you aren’t close to her because you prefer your father, and it’s not like she can handle having a long enough conversation with him to find out she’s wrong. It’s surprising she even managed to let him know your plans for Christmas.

“It’s fine. Like I told mum, I’d really much rather spend it here this year. Besides, I thought you all were going away for Christmas this year? We already spent Christmas together last year.” You say, pointedly trying to remind him that Christmas isn’t even a yearly thing with him. He does the contractual every-second-year with you, and then plans fun events with his family on the years he isn’t stuck babysitting.

“That’s true. But that’s why I’m calling! It took a bit of convincing, but there’s a spot on this trip with your name on it, if you want it.” He tells you. He almost sounds excited, like he’s really done something thoughtful and kind. Not just made some last-minute attempts to shoehorn you in. The invite hadn’t been there to start with, after all. It’s only as an afterthought that he’s made any attempt to add you in- a chance to pretend like things are good. Like the two of you aren’t on rocky terms the rest of the year. Like you’re close enough to go on holidays with your stepfamily.

“I think I’m fine dad.” You finally say. Taehyung is watching the expressions play across your face with mild curiosity. He probably can’t hear your father’s voice on the other line, but he can see the anger on your face, and hear the wobble to your tone. “You have fun on your trip. I’ll make do here.”

There’s a beat of silence and you hear your father sigh. You grimace- that’s his pre-scolding sigh. The sigh he gives before any lecture he thinks you’ve earned. As if he has any parental claim to scolding you.

“(Y/N),” your father begins. “It’s Christmas. Don’t be like this- you should be spending time with your family-“

“I did.” You cut him off, and you surprise yourself with the way tears fill your eyes. You squint, trying to keep them at bay. Taehyung watches with alarm as he registers the way you are on the verge of crying. “I spent every year. With you and mum. And then you and then mum and then you and then mum. I tried for so. damn. long. to do the family Christmas thing, but all it ever ended in was the two of you letting me down. Mum was too drunk or you were too busy. And yeah, maybe you guys were going through your own stuff. But don’t you dare try and tell me that Christmas is about family because if that’s what family is, I don’t want it. At least if I spend Christmas alone, neither of you can let me down.” You snarl into the phone line.

Your father is silent after your outburst. Taehyung watches you, waiting for your response.

And the tears finally spill forth, rolling down your cheeks.

“Well, if that’s how you feel, then I won’t stop you.” Your father finally says. He sounds hurt, as if you’re the one who’s hurt him. “I guess we’ll see you in the new year. Your sister’s birthday is coming up and Rachel wants to have a big party since she’s ten this year.”

“I’ll see you then.” You say, your throat raspy and your voice small.

You’ve barely hung up the call before two strong arms have wrapped around your figure. You go stiff in Taehyung’s arms. This is probably the first time he’s hugged you, and it isn’t unpleasant. Instead, the scent of gingerbread and peppermint fills your nose and it’s strangely soothing. You shift and turn your head just slightly so that your face is buried into the soft cream of his jumper, one of the fresh purchases from the other day.

“You can cry if you like.” He tells you, and you feel the words rumble from deep in his chest. “I won’t look.” He promises. “That was painful for me to hear, and it’s not even my dad- if you want to cry, then cry.” His voice cracks on the end of his sentence, and you abruptly realise that Taehyung is crying. He’s known you for just a short couple of weeks, and the only nice thing you’ve done for him is not drop a tacky Christmas Scarecrow back into a box of junk, and yet he’s crying just from hearing your half of a painful phone call.

Perhaps it’s the permission you need. For all of the long, lonely years you were stuck in the middle of feuding exes, you never gave yourself permission to cry. Instead, you’d retire to your room, pressing a pillow to your ears to drown out the sounds of screaming.

For a long time, you just stand there, sobbing into Taehyung’s arms. He runs his hands soothingly over the back of your hair, and eventually the steady rise and fall of his breathing lulls you into a sense of peace.

Taehyung is quick to act from there- before long, you are forcefully seated on your couch with a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Taehyung crouches before you, swiping at the tear trails on your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asks cautiously. You grimace and shake your head.

“It’s just the same old stuff.” You reassure him. “Long day at work; daddy issues; the usual standard.”

Taehyung smiles and settles himself beside you on the couch, tugging the blanket from your hands so that he can curl under it.

“Good thing your personal Christmas Spirit is here to save the season.” He whispers conspiratorially. He leans forward towards the coffee table and grabs your iPad, before pulling it into the safe cocoon of your blanket. “I’ve been researching all day! Tomorrow’s your day off, so it’s week 2 of spreading Christmas cheer.” He announces, unlocking the iPad and scrolling through the internet page he has open.

You nearly choke on your hot chocolate.

“Taehyung,” you rasp. Your oesophagus is probably blistering as you speak. “That’s a page for date ideas. This stuff is all for couples.”

“We are a couple.” Taehyung answers, confused. He points to himself and then to you. “A couple of people.” And then he grins at you and you realise he was teasing.

You snort and can’t hold back your laugh. Taehyung’s smile softens and he leans into your personal space.

“There it is.” He remarks. Wonder fills his tone. “That lovely smile.” He taps the tip of your nose fondly.

The smile slips off your face at his words. Lovely? Your smile? He thinks your smile is lovely?

A weird, electric feeling fills you at the thought, and you lean away from him quickly before your stupid heart can get any funny ideas. He didn’t mean anything by that compliment. He’s a Christmas Spirit- it’s literally his job to make you smile. You won’t overthink it and ruin this strange but precious arrangement you have going on.

Taehyung, to his credit, doesn’t look hurt or uncomfortable at the way you’d blatantly pulled away from him. Instead, his smile widens.

“Good idea. You gotta rest up those smiling muscles for tomorrow or you’ll get a cramp.” He tells you. He then gets up and and stretches, letting out a tremendous yawn. He glances over his shoulder at you with a wink. “Prepare yourself for the best day ever.”

Said “best day ever” begins with you staring listlessly up at your ceiling. Taehyung had talked big the night before, promising you a day of fun and enjoyment.

But you just can’t picture it. You’ve spoken to coworkers and friends before, about the excitement of Christmas. How they see lights or hear carols or even smelling gingerbread triggers this warm, nostalgic and joyful feeling deep in their hearts. But you’ve always felt nothing. Christmas has always been just another day, to you.

With a sigh, you roll out of bed.

Out in your living room, Taehyung is fidgeting with your smart tv, trying to get it to play what looks like Mariah Carey’s rendition of “All I want for Christmas is you”. He’s mumbling to himself, and his santa’s hat droops lower and lower on his head. The little white pompom at the end brushes his nose, and the bright red strands of hair that peak out from beneath the cap stick out in every direction.

Apart from the santa’s hat, he’s dressed remarkably stylishly. That had been a big surprise on your little outing the week before- his impeccable fashion taste. Today he’s wearing a soft, fuzzy red cardigan over a large white t-shirt and tan trousers.

“The volume’s off.” You inform him. He starts, glancing at you in surprise, before confirming that he has accidentally managed to turn the volume all the way down. “You operate technology like a grandpa.”

Taehyung grins as you take the remote from him, adjusting the volume and selecting the song so that the familiar opening begins to chime through your speakers.

“You say that like I didn’t catch you yelling at your printer two nights ago.” He chuckles. “Are you ready for our ultimate Christmas adventure?”

He must catch the way your guard goes up, because his smile softens from something amused into something more gentle and comforting.

“Nervous?” He asks. You hesitate, just a moment, before offering a terse nod.

“Sorry.” You finally settle on. “I just... I’ve tried the “christmas cheer” thing. And it didn’t work Tae. I just feel like... Christmas is just another day.”

“That’s because it is just another day.” He reminds you. “But if you give it a chance, it can be more.”

You bite your lip hesitantly, and he shakes his head.

“What if you didn’t think about it like Christmas?” He asks. “How about, today is a day for me to cheer you up after a long week. We’re gonna do fun things and enjoy ourself because we want to. Does that sound doable?”

It does. It’s strangely reassuring and low pressure, and something about his words and the patient, warm light to his eyes puts you at ease. You don’t know why you feel so much pressure about enjoying Christmas but maybe it’s because you don’t want to let Taehyung down. He has so much riding on this Christmas and you don’t want to be the person who ruins Christmas for him. Who makes its a tedious, miserable event like your parents did for you.

And maybe a small part of you wants to enjoy the season for you. To claim back the years lost to misery and fighting and to share in the merriment that everyone else holds.

“Ok.” You finally agree. “Lead the way.”

Taehyung beams in response.

First on the agenda seems to be in the park in the centre of your city. Not every year in this place has a white Christmas- some Christmases are just cold and muddy, with a thin layer of ice over dirty pavements. This particular Christmas has been quite frosty, and quite early on- the first snowfall had been earlier that week and now a thick layer of snow coats the ground and clings to thick winter coats.

“Tadaa!” Taehyung proclaims, waving a hand out towards your first activity of the day. An open carriage, decked out in sleigh bells, and two gorgeous white horses, standing tall and sleek in their crystalline surroundings.

You creep closer, and their handler spots you. He’s a cheerful man in a formal suit, offset by the bright red santa hat atop his head. He matches Taehyung, who seems reluctant to part with his beloved accessory no matter the time of day.

“You must be (Y/N),” the old man cheers, crowding closer. His horses snort and stamp their feet at his excitement, but he pays them no mind, instead skittering forward to greet you. “Taehyung has told me all about you! Come, get yourself seated and we’ll begin the tour.”

You glance at Taehyung, who merely shoos you encouragingly towards the carriage.

“How did you afford this?” You hiss at him. He shrugs and smiles.

“Christmas spirits have connections.” He whispers, before placing a hand on either side of your waist. You smother a yelp as you feel him practically lift you up the first step, and it doesn’t take you much encouragement to scramble onto your seat from there. It’s a vain attempt to distract yourself from the feeling of his large hands encircling your waist.

“All seated?” Your guide questions. Taehyung nods as he scoots in close to you and that’s really all the warning you get before the carriage lurches forward.

You steady yourself with a yelp, and an arm around you from Taehyung keeps you upright. You glance at him in surprise and are momentarily caught off-guard by his profile. A thin, delicate smattering of snowflakes has been caught on the breeze and they catch on his hair and lashes. The tip of his nose has gone endearingly red in the cold.

He turns his gaze when he feels your stare and he grins.

“Enjoying the sights?” He wonders innocently. You grimace and look away. He merely laughs. “Let me explain to you the logic behind our first activity of the day. First of all, it came as a package with the activity my friend got me for free. Secondly, I thought that it might help you see how little perspective can make the things you see every day so much more special.” He finishes his explanation by pointing an arm across you to gesture at the scenery of the park. He’s right; you’ve seen this scenery hundreds of times, across all seasons, but there’s something special about it in the moment. The warmth of families, covered in thick, puffy jackets, the flutter of chilly snowflakes against your skin, the sheen of frost over the pond on the far end of the park. It’s all familiar and yet in that moment, surrounded by the glimmering sound of sleigh-bells and the stead thud of horse shoes against the pavement, the park you’ve known since moving to this city is different, magical.

The carriage pulls to a stop beside a crowded pavillion. On the other side, you can glimpse people taking advantage of the outdoor figure skating rink thats set up in the park over winter.

“Is this our second stop?” You ask Taehyung, as he helps you alight from the carriage. Oddly, though he grasps your hand as he helps you down, he doesn’t release it once you’re on solid ground. Instead, he keeps his fingers wrapped around yours as he waves farewell to the carriage driver.

“You guessed it!” He congratulates you. “Stop number two; appreciating the fun of winter! Nothing screams winter wonderland like a figure skating rink.”

“Can you skate?” You ask him as he leads you to the skate rental counter.

“No?” He asks. “But how hard can it be, right? It looked really easy on all the videos I watched in preparation.”

A short while later, you get to bear witness to Taehyung learning just how hard figure skating can be.

“It’s just like walking.” You attempt to soothe him, all the while wincing at the vice-like grip he has on your hands. “Just keep standing upright.”

“Have I always been this tall?” Taehyung breathes. He’s gone deathly pale, and you don’t think the cold is the reason behind it. “Why is the ground so far away?”

“You can do it.” You urge, still allowing him to cling onto your forearms like he’s about to plummet off a cliff edge and you are the only thing keeping him from certain death. “Come on, Tae.”

He shoots up straight, eyes widening at the sudden nickname. Unfortunately, it’s the wrong move, because he topples forward, and the only thing keeping him from lying face-down on the ice is you. You’re toppling backwards before you can stop yourself.

Taehyung yelps and you brace yourself for your head to impact against the hard ice, but it never comes. Instead your head lands in the firm cushion of Taehyung’s palm. Somehow, in the chaos of slipping, he’s landed on top of you but managed to stop you from banging your head.

You blink open your eyes and for a moment, your senses are overwhelmed with the scent of peppermint and the warm brown of his eyes. He looks just as startled as you are. You feel your face heat and his breath puffs warm against your cheeks, contrasting the chill of the air.

“Maybe figure skating isn’t for me.” He volunteers sheepishly.

You can’t help but offer a crooked smile. He’s so silly but it’s strangely endearing. He looks surprised at your smile, and it seems that’s the moment he abruptly realises the position you’re in. Quickly, he scrambles off you and helps you into a sitting position.

“Sorry.” He says glumly. “I thought it would be fun, but clearly I overestimated myself.”

You get to your feet and offer a hand to help him get up. He looks nervously at your outstretched hand.

“It is fun.” You reassure him. “And it can still be fun. Just hold on to me, and trust me ok?”

Something in his gaze softens and he accepts your outstretched hand. It takes a bit, but with an arm around his chest, you manage to stabilise him between yourself and the wall of the ice-skating rink.

He peeks up at you through his bright red fringe. His santa’s hat sits lopsided on his head. The smile he gives you this time is different from all the other ones. It’s not as ecstatic or joy-filled. This one is more reserved, almost shy; you feel a bit like you’ve been punched in the chest for some reason when you see it.

You stretch out your hands again, your hands flat and palms extended skywards, and he place one hand into each of your palms. Even through your thick gloves, your skin feels oddly warm when he holds you.

Gently, you take slow, gliding steps backwards, while he follows with much smaller, much more jilted steps.

“It’s just like walking, but smoother.” You explain, and the words are forced through a tight throat. Perhaps the cold is getting to you- that’s the only explanation you can think of for why you suddenly feel so short of breath.

Taehyung nods, focussing hard on the ice. He gives a big exhale that releases in a huge, cloudy breath, and presses one foot forward. And then the other. It’s not long before he’s gliding along before you.

“That’s it!” You cheer. “I’m going to let go of one hand now, ok? I can’t keep skating backwards or I’ll crash into someone.”

Taehyung looks a bit fearful, but then he nods with determination lighting his eyes. Slowly, you release one hand and spin so that you’re standing shoulder to shoulder with him. He still maintains a death grip on the hand that’s still grasping his, but he manages to stay upright and not go tipping forward.

“Ok, here we go.” You say, and you take one step forward, followed by a second, and then a third and before you know it, you and Taehyung are drifting across the ice, albeit slowly and with lots of breaks to allow Taehyung to steady himself on the wall.

It’s actually quite fun, and relaxing, gliding across the ice like this. Music crackles through the speakers, and the people around you are all enjoying themselves. Surrounded by the bright flurry of December snow, it’s easy to smile and let loose and enjoy the season.

Eventually, the cold does manage to catch up with you, but Taehyung’s quick to press on to the next scheduled activity before you can feel too sad that the ice skating is over.

He crowds you off the ice, eagerly urging you forward with a hand planted on either shoulder.

“Hurry! We’re going to be late!!” He informs you. You deliberately slow down at that and he gets so huffy and impatient at your silliness that you find yourself laughing.

After warming yourselves up with a hot chocolate and some lunch in the warmth of a well-heated cafe, it’s starting to get a bit dark by the time Taehyung leads you to your final activity. He refuses to say what it is- instead he leads you in an increasingly convoluted route on public transport. He gets more and more amused the more unfamiliar with your destination you become, and by the time you step off the bus on the snowy outskirts of the city, you’re starting to think the whole Christmas Spirit thing was an act designed to murder you in a forest somewhere.

Particularly when he claps a hand over each eye, obscuring your vision.

“Taehyung,” you sigh. “If this is how you’re going to murder me, can’t you at least let me see the knife coming?”

“I’m not going to murder you.” He scoffs, though with gentle pressure, he leads you forward, his chest pressed protectively to your back. “I just want to surprise you.”

“I’m very easily surprised.” You remind him. “I don’t need to be blind in a forest to be surprised. Just give me a box of chocolates after a long day of work or something.”

“Hush.” He shushes you. “Just walk, and trust me.”

You take a deep, inhaling breath and your lungs fill with what has become the calming, warm scent of peppermint and cinnamon. It’s Taehyung, you remind yourself. He’s had plenty of opportunity to hurt you or scam you or even kill you but instead all he’s done is wait eagerly for you to return home and watch tacky Christmas movies with you.

“Ok.” He says, against your ear, and you shiver at the heat of his mouth tickling the cold tips of your ears. “Are you ready?”

Words fail you for some mysterious reason, so you settle for nodding mutely.

Taehyung drops his hands from your eyes and it takes you a few blinks to adjust to the sudden onslaught of light.

What lies before you is a long, brightly lit pathway. Market stalls line the paths, with vendors brandishing their wares. Fairly lights string across the stalls, in various tones ranging from warm-toned white lights to festive blues, greens, reds. Overhead, brilliant archways decorated with marvellous, intricate arrays of Christmas lights mark the path.

“What... what is this, Tae?” You breathe. Your chest hurts a little and this time you’re willing to admit that it has nothing to do with the cold.

“This is the Annual Christmas Markets.” He announces proudly. “Brought to you by your local council and sponsored by Subway (sandwiches not included).”

You take hesitant, wondering steps forward. You don’t really have any words for the strange, ballooning feeling in your chest. Like your heart is so full it’s about to burst. You feel on the verge of tears yet at the same time you feel free and light and happy.

“It’s so... pretty.” You say. Taehyung beams and steps in close so that he’s shoulder to shoulder with you.

“Pretty magical, huh?” He asks you. “I found it on google! Did you know the city throws this event every year?”

You shake your head wonderingly.

“I had no idea.” You admit. He tilts his head towards the festivities.

“Then let’s explore!” He cries, tugging you forward with a hand wrapped around yours.

There’s lots to do around the markets. There’s christmas light sculptures scattered around, like a scavenger hunt of sorts. Taehyung’s favourite is the one of a santa formed from wires twisted together, skiing across the snow on a sleigh, two reindeers are standing tall. Your favourite is probably a tunnel of lights, tightly woven together to create an archway as people weave through it- you like the way it turns Taehyung’s bright red hair into brilliant licks of flames, and how his eyes look like they hold the entire night sky within their depths.

There’s a mulled wine stall, although Taehyung pulls a face at the taste and you have to buy him a hot chocolate to get him to forgive you.

“I just don’t understand how anyone can dislike Christmas carols!” Taehyung protests across his hot chocolate as the night progresses. You’re nearing the edge of the market stalls, which open up onto a big open space, paved with asphalt and with the snow scraped off it where various families and groups of people are starting to gather. Most of them are in parked vehicles, all facing towards a central stage that hasn’t been lit up yet.

“If you talk to anyone who works in retail, they just get repetitive after a while.” You explain. “I mean, “Last Christmas” is a good song in theory, but not after the six repeats that played before your lunch break.”

Taehyung “tsk”’s and shakes his head.

“I think you just have the wrong associations with the songs.” He sighs. “If you associate it with work and bad things, of course you won’t like it! You have to make positive memories and think of those when you hear the songs.”

The stage lights up ahead of you and a small band starts to take the stage. You gaze at the performers as they prepare.

“Any suggestions?” You ask softly. You surprise yourself, and when you look at Taehyung, he looks a little stunned to. “To make positive memories. What should I think of instead, when I hear those songs?”

He searches your gaze for a moment, and then the corner of his mouth quirks in a little half smile.

“Follow me.” He urges, leading you across the asphalt towards the stage. You have to duck between parked cars where people have makeshift little dens to enjoy the show from. He brings you to a stop where there’s a bit of a space just before the stage. A few couples have already taken advantage of what is essentially a dance floor. He spins around and pulls you in close. You stumble a little, not expecting the movement, but it seems he was expecting that. He steadies you with a hand against your waist and tugs one of your free arms up to rest on his shoulder. “When you hear this song... you can think about today.” He tells you with a smile. “And about all the fun we had!”

He begins to sway you back and forth in a slow turn. You wonder why his weird Christmas Spirit school taught him how to slow dance. Up on the stage, the singer begins to croon the opening notes of “have yourself a merry little christmas”. You tell yourself its the cold that urges you to shuffle in closer to Taehyung as he sways you from side to side. He’s so warm, and solid. Unbidden, your heart starts to beat a little faster, and when you raise your eyes to meet his, something about the warmth in those dazzling depths has you feeling light-headed.

“What do you think about when you hear them?” You ask him, changing the subject in an attempt to overcome the strange, overwhelming emotion you suddenly feel weighted with. He spins you out in a twirl, before tugging you back in.

“Hmm...” he contemplates. “I think about hot chocolates, and snowball fights, and the smell of Christmas trees. And Christmas lights and Christmas bells.” He lists, his gaze hazy as he thinks through his list. It’s a bit of a scary thought, but you could honestly stay here forever, watching Taehyung list the things he loves, being swayed gently in his arms. And then he glances down at you and there’s something so warm and fond in his expression that you feel your face heat. “And I think about your smile.”

A funny thing happens in that moment, after his confession. Your heart goes on strike for a moment- even she seems shocked at the sudden turn of events. And then suddenly the air is electric, and all your senses are just filled with Taehyung. His smell, his eyes, his hair, his warmth... his lips.

It’s a sudden revelation, like being struck by lightening. The look in his eyes seems to thread into your veins, leaving burning trails in its wake. His scent washes into the very bottom of your lungs. You like him. In a very short amount of time, he’s wiggled past all your defences and now here you are, standing in his arms, and you realise you want to stay there. You want to keep seeing his smile and keep spending time with him and you don’t want this Christmas to end.

The songs draws to a close and you step away from his embrace. He seems to sense your sudden change in mood.

“Is everything ok?” He asks you and you nod, smiling in a way you hope is reassuring.

“Yeah. I just noticed how cold it’s getting, is all. Shall we head back home?” You ask. Taehyung blinks and glances around as if he’s just now realising how cold it is. He shivers and steps in close to you.

“Yeah, you’re right.” He admits. “Let’s head home.” He wraps his arms around you, rubbing his hands up and down your biceps to try and warm you up. “Did you have fun, though?” He asks eagerly.

“Yeah.” You say, and this time the smile isn’t forced. “Yeah, I did.”

A week later, you’re stressed and bustling around the kitchen like a madwoman.

“Is it golden brown yet or is it just the oven light?” Taehyung wonders, attempting to peer into your oven without opening the door. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just check now?”

Your realisation of your feelings hadn’t changed too much around the apartment. As work for the year finally drew to a close this week, you hadn’t really had a chance to overthink it, and then you’d been busy planning a pre-Christmas dinner upon learning that Taehyung has always wanted to try a family Christmas dinner. You’d insisted upon throwing one despite his protests that he was the Christmas Spirit, not you. Finally, he had relented, and you were keen to return all the memories he had given you tenfold.

Only a couple of your friends had still been without plans, this late into December. Jin always manages to make time where food is involved, and Dahyun had had to cancel flights back home for the year. She’s also dragging along an old friend of hers, Jungkook, and then Nayeon had invited Namjoon and Jihyo. They’re all good friends of yours, but there’s something about organising a home-cooked Christmas meal that is just inherently stressful.

“The recipe says another ten minutes.” You remind Taehyung in between your attempts to both whip the cream for dessert and finish placing all the appetisers into sufficiently aesthetic containers.

Taehyung frowns, and straightens. He watches you dance around in a frazzled manner for a few minutes, before catching you by the shoulders.

“Hey.” He scolds. “I know I said I wanted a Christmas dinner, but not at the expense of your sanity. I don’t appreciate you undoing all my hard work of making you enjoy Christmas.”

You stiffen at the warmth of his palms against your shoulders before taking a deep breath.

“You’re right.” You finally say. “I’m sorry. I just... I want you to have a good time. I’ve had so much fun these past few weeks and I want you to feel what I feel. I never thought I could ever look forward to something like Christmas, and yet here I am, throwing an entire Christmas dinner.”

“Seeing you enjoy Christmas and smiling like this makes me feel happier than you can imagine, (Y/N),” Taehyung reassures you. “This dinner is just a bonus. I’m grateful for it, but what would make me feel the best is if you’re having a good time.”

There he goes again. He’s remarkably smooth for a strange mystical being that was raised in the North Pole. He’s just so good at making your stomach feel like it’s filled with butterflies and making your heart forget to beat. With a deep, resigned sigh, you nod to him.

“Ok. I’ll chill out.” You promise, before returning to your preparations in a far more mellow manner.

Guests start trickling in. Jin just barely manages to avoid a throttling when you see him, after his stunt where he didn’t show up when there was an intruder in your home. It all worked out fine, but it’s always offensive to learn that your friend would leave you to die because he had “an oven emergency”. Jungkook and Dahyun come in bickering over the intricacies over some meme they’d seen, and Jihyo drags in far too much alcohol for the night.

The night settles into a comfortable sort of atmosphere- people scatter across the living space of your apartment, catching up and just generally enjoying the vibe. Taehyung gets a few probing questions into the nature of your relationship and Jin seems to develop some sort of facial tic with all the eyebrow wagging he’s doing, but otherwise things go smoothly.

At least until it becomes apparent that Jin had taken the liberty of doing some decorating of his own while you were setting up for dinner.

Namjoon and Jihyo are the first of the victims to the numerous mistletoes Jin has concealed around your home. Luckily, they are dating and so it’s just a quick peck between them to the sounds of laughter and hooting.

At least until the other attendees realise that if Jin has hidden multiple mistletoes around your home, at any moment they could fall victim to a dreaded mistletoe kiss, with a completely undesired partner.

From there, things devolve into a terrified, suspicious sort of scavenger hunt. Jin thinks it’s hilarious, watching you all scour the place like sniffer dogs, comfortably reclined on the couch as he shouts out hints that could be true or could be total lies. It’s always hard to tell with him.

Of course Taehyung, poor, sweet naive Taehyung, had missed the dramatic revelation of Jin’s prank. He had been in the kitchen, dutifully monitoring dessert as it slowly cooked in the oven, and he had only stepped out to check with you when you thought it would be done.

You feel him tap your shoulder in the middle of combing through your mantle, making sure Jin hadn’t hidden anything amidst the photo frames and decorations that sat there. You jump, surprised, and turn to face him.

Only for Jin’s screeching laughter to reach you.

“Victims number 2!” He calls triumphantly. Taehyung looks confused, and you grimace as you finally spot the offending object. A small bit of mistletoe twisted in amongst the tinsel lining your ceiling. You’re not even sure how the madman actually got it there without anyone noticing.

“Mistletoe!” Dahyun chants, from where she’d been pressed into a corner and snarling at anyone who dared walk close enough to her lest she too fall victim to the mistletoe. “Mistletoe. Mistletoe. Mistletoe.” Slowly everyone joins the chant until your apartment sounds a bit like a cult.

“Let’s not be hasty!” You plead. “Think about it. If you let me off, then we can all ignore this silly tradition.”

Taehyung, interestingly, has gone very still upon realising the two of you stand beneath a mistletoe.

“(Y/N).” he calls, audible only to you beneath the chanting. “We can’t leave. It’s a mistletoe- I have to.”

You squint at him.

“What do you mean? It’s just a silly tradition, why would you have to-“ you begin, before trailing away as it occurs to your that Taehyung is actually not a human. This isn’t two friends caught beneath a mistletoe and talking their way out of a silly tradition. Taehyung is a Christmas Spirit and thus bound to different rules to you. “Oh.” You breathe. “So I have to... do that?”

With a deep blush that nearly rivals the brilliant red of his hair, Taehyung nods. You wince and let your gaze drop. His mouth is a soft pink- one of the first things you’d bought on that first shopping trip had been lip balm after he’d seen you applying your own. He applies it meticulously and his lips are always faintly glossy and soft looking. This close you can count the tiny moles that sit against his skin like little stars, and you feel a little bit like your heart is in danger when you finally draw your gaze back up to meet his.

His expression is a little hard to interpret, but you don’t let yourself overthink it. You slide your palms up around the back of his neck and tug his mouth down to press against yours.

Taehyung makes a little surprised noise when you do, and it makes you blush. The smell of peppermint and cinammon is strong but captivating, and you wish you could stay there. You wish you could keep kissing him, but you know it’s wrong.

With a sigh, you pull back. Taehyung’s eyes are round and mystified and the blush sits high on his cheeks. His tongue darts out to swipe his lips and he clears his throat awkwardly.

“I...” his gaze flickers down and then he averts his gaze quickly. Around you, your friends let out a few wolf whistles before returning to the panicked search for any other offending items. Taehyung’s breathing seems a little faster and you can’t say you’re in much better state. “I just came out to ask you about the dessert.” He finally manages, though his voice comes out a little raspy. You nod, hoping he doesn’t think much of the way you mirror his fierce blush.

“Right...” you say awkwardly. “I’ll just... go and check on it.”

You dart around him, heading straight for the kitchen.

When you are there, you take advantage of the lack of other party guests and bury your face in your hands. It was just a mistletoe kiss, it didn’t mean anything and yet your traitorous heart is rioting in your chest, threatening to go on strike. Your mind can’t help replaying the moment- his lips on yours, his familiar, striking scent, the scratch of his ugly Christmas jumper beneath your fingers. The size of this stupid crush is embarrassingly enormous.

It takes a few moments, but you manage to regain your composure enough to discover that the dessert is very slightly undercooked, which you know Jin will bitch and moan about, but everyone else won’t mind. It’s nothing copious amounts of ice cream or custard won’t cover up.

When you step out into your living room, it seems the panic over the mistletoes has settled. Jungkook had smothered Jin until he caved and gave up all the locations and now your living room has devolved into a ridiculous Christmas dance party- Jin and Dahyun belt out the lyrics to Last Christmas with absurd amounts of drama and gravitas, and Jihyo and Namjoon are curled up on the couch, murmuring to each other softly. Jungkook has gotten ahold of Taehyung and is currently trying to teach him ridiculous tiktok dances, and all-in-all it’s kind of a dream vibe for a Christmas party. No pain, or fighting, or tears. Just warmth and laughter, and a shared camraderie of the season.

You find yourself smiling as you finally admit to yourself that maybe Taehyung was right.

Christmas isn’t so bad after all.

After everyone goes home, you and Taehyung are left to the cleanup.

It’s a bit awkward, standing shoulder to shoulder after the kiss. His movements are slow and hesitant, like if you move too quickly he’ll get frightened and bolt. But gradually you settle into a kind of rhythm, tidying things up together and you can’t resist asking him about the party. It had been for his sake, after all.

“Did you have fun?” You ask. Taehyung jumps from where he’d been gently working the sponge into a lather and a clang rings through the kitchen. The silence seems more pressing after the loudness of your party.

“Um... it was good.” He says, though his voice is a little high and squeaky. “I had a lot of fun- your friends seem nice.”

“It’s not really a family dinner.” You admit sheepishly. He pauses and offers you a smile, and the pleasant expression on his face seems to thaw through the lingering ice in the room.

“No, don’t be silly.” He tells you. “It was everything I could have hoped for. Except for Jin’s interpretative dance to Santa baby. I feel like I could have gone without that.”

You laugh and shake your head, stepping in close to pluck plates off the drying rack and drying them off.

“This was nothing. Wait till lizzo comes on and then you’ll see peak Seokjin.” You sigh. But then your expression changes and you offer Taehyung a smile. His eyes drop for just a fraction of a second, so quick you think you’ve imagined it, before raising quickly back to your eyes. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

He nods, and hums, still making his way through the pile of dirty dishes.

“What about you?” He asks. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You pause to think about it. The laughter of your friends, the silly Christmas carols, the snap of Christmas bonbons.... you did. You really, truly enjoyed yourself in a way you didn’t think you could and it’s thanks to the man before you. The man who patiently waited for you to come home each evening to eat dinner with you, and who dragged you across the city to places he thought you’d enjoy... he’s truly a magical person.

“I really did. It’s gotten me so excited for the rest of the year, to be honest. Are there any other Christmas traditions we can do? Christmas is almost here, but what about New Year’s? We could do something fun then too.” You suggest. Suddenly the season seems so bright and exciting, and the fact that there’s a whole week and a half left to December leaves you unbelievably excited.

Taehyung pauses from where he scrapes at a stubborn crumb on your baking tray.

“What?” He asks, and his voice goes strangely soft, and tentative. You blink- something about his tone makes you uneasy.

“For after Christmas.” You clarify. “You’ve already got Christmas planned out for us, right? So I can plan something for New Year’s. Return the favour.”

By now, Taehyung has completely stopped cleaning. He doesn’t look at you, and stares straight ahead.

“There... there isn’t an “after Christmas”, (Y/N).” He confesses. Your heart drops into your stomach. He turns to face you, and for once, his eyes aren’t bright, and filled with joy. They’re dark and miserable.

“What?” You breathe, trying to speak past the sudden shattering sensation in your chest. “Why... why not?”

“I’m a Christmas Spirit.” He reminds you. “I bring Christmas Cheer and then I go back in a box for the rest of the year.”

You blink- you feel like you aren’t hearing him right, or just not comprehending things.

“Why? I can just not put you away. Why can’t there be an “after Christmas”?” You urge. You step in close, fighting past the sudden panic in your chest. “How could I just put you back in a box for the rest of the year? That’s crazy! Just, don’t go in the box.”

“It’s not that simple.” He protests. “There are rules, (Y/N). I can’t just ignore them. My job is to make you happy during Christmas and then that’s it. That’s what I was born and raised to do. That’s what I spent 25 years waiting for.”

Your eyes widen.

“But surely there’s another way? Surely you don’t want to be in the box.” You cry. You step in close and grab his hand, pulling it towards you pleadingly.

“It doesn’t matter what I want.” He says, and there’s a resigned note of finality to his tone. “After Christmas, that’s it. I lose the strength to turn into a human. You can keep my out of the box, but it doesn’t make a difference. It ends on Christmas night.”

That makes you fall silent as you finally learn the full truth. You’d been so busy having fun that you hadn’t thought about what comes next. You’d stupidly let yourself believe that you could just keep having fun with Taehyung. You hadn’t thought about the logistics or the long term of it. You feel like you’ve been slapped.

Christmas has an end date.

Taehyung spots the tears forming in the corners of your eyes before you do, and his expression softens at the sight.

“It’s not fair.” You rasp. Somehow, he manages to pull a smile from somewhere, though it’s tinged with a deep sadness that makes more tears spill forth. He steps in close and pulls your face into his chest.

“I know.” He soothes. “It is. It’s unfair. I want to... I want to stay. But I can’t.”

You can’t keep your composure after that, and the sobs come in in full force.

“I wanted to keep having fun with you.” You bawl, and he just shushes you with a tighter hug.

“I did too.” He confesses. “But it just means we have to have even more fun until Christmas. Can you do that for me, (Y/N)?” He breaks the hug so that he can gaze into your eyes, smoothing the tears from your cheeks. “Please.” He begs. And you see the way his own eyes are red and moist.

You want to tell him you absolutely cannot. That if he’s going to make Christmas fun and then leave you at the end, he can leave right now. Before you fall even harder. Before it’s too hard to say goodbye.

But you’re a fool. A masochistic, lovestruck, weak fool. You can’t look into his eyes and tell him no. Not when you know what this means to him; you can’t take away his first Christmas for selfish reason.

“Ok.” You finally rasp. “I’ll do it.”

You’re walking off a cliff face with your eyes wide open.

For once Taehyung’s smile isn’t enough to comfort you.

Christmas day dawns cold and subdued. The days following dinner had been warm, but quiet. Reserved. Like you both knew a goodbye was coming and didn’t want to acknowledge it. You spend one night curled up in your car at an outdoor theatre, laughing along to some silly Christmas comedy, and another day is spent going bobsledding. You both go through the motions of merriment, but it’s clear that neither of your hearts are in it. It’s hard to be enthusiastic and merry when each precious moment that passes is one step closer to when he turns back into a scarecrow.

When you step out in the kitchen, Taehyung is making breakfast already. He sees you and smiles.

“Good morning.” He calls. “Merry Christmas.”

It triggers a pang in your chest as his words confirm that this is truly your last day with him.

“Merry Christmas.” You yawn, attempting to conceal the way your heart aches by settling into a chair at your table.

Taehyung scurries over, a plate in each hand.

“Breakfast is ready.” He declares. He’s gotten quite creative in his cooking- he can now manage a fairly decent semi-scrambled omelette and his bacon is surprisingly crispy. You’re eager to see what he has prepared for Christmas Day.

When he sets it down in front of you, however, you glimpse the Santa pancakes he made that first day. Your face falls. Two familiar blueberry eyes stare dolefully up at you and even the banana smile seems less curved and cheerful. It’s clear Taehyung had been a little distracted making them, because they’re not as carefully put together as that first meal. But the sentiment behind them still stands; that Taehyung cooks for you. He likes seeing you smile and he goes to absurd lengths to get you to enjoy yourself and he has for the entire month of December. He’s come to mean so much to you in such a short span of time- somehow he’s made a season that previously only meant cold and misery become a time of warmth and laughter. And now you have to say goodbye, before you’ve even started. There’s so many adventures the two of you could go on together, and yet you don’t get to. It’s so cruel. You’re alarmed when the tears come, unbidden.

Taehyung watches the expressions play out across your face, before wordlessly reaching out with the sleeve of his sweater to wipe the tears that fall away. His touch is gentle and his expression somber. He hasn’t even donned his usual Santa’s hat.

“I’m sorry.” You say, in a small voice. “I know I said I wouldn’t cry.”

He shakes his head and smiles, pulling his chair up so that it’s seated as close as possible to you.

“It’s ok. Just means I have to work a little harder. I wanna see that pretty smile, before I go.” He reassures you. You sniff and scrub at your eyes before staring determinedly at your pancakes.

“Ok.” You say. “Let’s do this, then.”

Taehyung searches your expression, and you’re not sure what he sees there, but it seems to satisfy him. You feel that the last few days, his smiles had been duller and decidedly less genuine, but this time he hits you with the full force of his dazzling smile.

“First things first, we have to open presents!” He cheers. You frown.

“But I don’t have any presents-“ you protest, but Taehyung cuts you off with a sharp rush of air through his teeth.

“Then what’s that?” He questions innocently, gesturing to your ratty Christmas tree.

And sure enough, beneath it is laden with presents. You stare at it for a long time.

“I didn’t get you anything.” You finally admit. Taehyung laughs.

“You enjoying my gifts is the present.” He says dismissively, before crowding you towards the tree. “Anyway, it’s a universal Christmas tradition to open your presents after breakfast, and I have failed you as a Christmas Spirit if we don’t do that.”

He slides the first gift towards you and eyes you coyly. “Open this one first.” He urges you.

They’re all small gifts, relatively inexpensive. You’re not expecting Swarovski crystals from Taehyung considering he’s an unemployed Christmas Spirit. But each gift is thoughtful and sweet and bought specifically with you and your tastes in mind. By the time you open the last of the presents, you’re fighting off tears again.

“I didn’t get you anything.” You lament, sniffling slightly as you set the last gift aside. Taehyung’s eyebrows wrinkle together and his mouth pulls into a pout.

“I already told you. Just being here is a gift for me.” He insists. “Besides, it’s not like I can use anything you give me for eleven months.”

That causes you to fall silent. You bite your lip as you look away. You had been determined not to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but you can’t do it. You can’t spend the day pretending you’re not on the verge of tears.

“I know I said I wouldn’t. But I can’t keep pretending this isn’t going to happen, Tae.” You say, and when he looks at you, you know it’s the first chink in his armour. He’s held it together considerably better than you, and you’d thought maybe it just didn’t bother him. After all, you were the one with feelings, not him. “At least... you can answer questions, right? If I know more, maybe it will hurt less.”

But looking at him now, you realise that he’s been fighting to stay composed to.

“What do you want to know?” He finally says, and he’s quiet. Defeated. So unlike the optimistic, cheerful being you’d come to adore.

“Are you trapped? Will it be be uncomfortable?” You question. “Can you still hear me? Will you... will you be lonely?”

“Not exactly.” He reassures you. “I look like a human but I’m also a glorified Christmas ornament. Time and events are different when I’m a scarecrow. It’s hard to explain.... but it’s not so bad. It’s just... how I am. I’m waiting, but I’m not trapped.” He explains vaguely. “I can hear and see what’s going on, but I just process things differently. Time just... feels different.”

You nod, a little comforted that at least you’re not sending your friend to be trapped in a prison of his own body for eleven months.

“Am I meant to pass you on to someone else?” You ask. “Or do I keep you here?”

“I guess...” He looks uncertain, and tentative. “I guess it depends how your year goes. Eleven months...” his voice cracks and he clears it awkwardly to hide it. “It’s a long time. You can keep me here, and I’ll see you next December, if you need a little extra help enjoying the season... or you can pass me on to someone else if you don’t need me anymore.”

He’s right. Eleven months is such a long time. Long enough to forget Taehyung and his bright smile and cheery disposition. Long enough to spend next Christmas with your family and pretend like things are ok between you. Long enough... long enough to forget just how much your heart aches today, and fool yourself into doing the exact same thing next year.

“What do you want?” You finally settle on. It’s the last question of the interrogation. After this, you can pretend everything is ok. You can go on like nothing’s wrong.

Taehyung’s eyes go wide. He points at himself, bewildered by your question.

“What do... I want?” He echoes, as if he’s never heard the words before. You nod.

“I want you to spend Christmas happy.” You confess. “So where do you want to be, next Christmas?”

He’s quiet for so long you’re worried that his brain has stopped functioning or that his weird Christmas Spirit voodoo has kicked in. But when he finally looks at you again, his eyes shine with so much emotion that your heart aches in your chest at the sight.

“I want to be here.” He finally says. “I want to spend Christmas with you again. There’s so many things we still didn’t get to try, and I want to do them all.”

Your throat goes tight, because yet again, you’re signing yourself up for heartbreak. If you do this, you’re the only one who will be hurt. Pining alone for most of the year for a season you used to hate. The irony of the situation is not lost on you.

But you’re helpless to him, to his smile and his sweetness and his warmth, and you can’t say goodbye.

“Ok.” You agree. “Then you’ll stay with me. Now let’s have some fun.”

The day must inevitably draw to a close. Though you and Taehyung linger at every activity, attempting to draw out each moment, the point in the day comes where the two of you are back at the apartment, with the time drawing closer and closer to midnight.

You unlock your apartment door with trembling fingers and inhale a shaking breath. You glance over your shoulder at Taehyung. He’s a broad-shouldered person, tall and imposing were it not for the warmth of his eyes and his puppy-like demeanour and normally he just seems larger than life. But in that moment, he’s so small and uncertain.

There’s so much you could say. You could plead with him; try and see if there’s a way to bargain out of the inevitable goodbye. Or you could thank him, from the bottom of your heart, for the first enjoyable Christmas you’ve had in your entire life. Crying feels like a viable option too, or getting angry. Your heart can’t seem to settle on a response and so instead it’s settled on numbness. Like it’s cold, lifeless hunk of metal rattling around in your ribcage.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” Is what you finally settle on. He stares searching at your expression, before nodding to himself and squaring his shoulders

“Yeah. That sounds fun. I’ll make us some hot chocolate as well.” He says, stepping past you into the foyer.

You eventually settle on watching the Polar Express. When you sit on the couch, Taehyung sits far too close and tugs a blanket over both your laps. He hands you a mug of hot chocolate and the two of you settle into a peaceful quiet, opposite from the laughter and activity of the daytime. The evening melancholy seems to have settled in. The whole movie, you don’t really pay attention, instead trying not to think about the way the clock on the wall seems to be moving quickly.

“(Y/N).” You’re startled when Taehyung calls your name. It’s out of the blue, and you hadn’t noticed the way he’s steadily edged closer until the words are said almost directly into your ear. You’d been watching the clock instead of the movie, and you think for a moment that he intends to reprimand you. You turn to look at him and the proximity startles the breath out of you. “It’s almost midnight.” He tells you, as if you haven’t been glaring the clock down for most of the night.

It’s true, though- the minute hand is edging closer and closer to the dreaded twelve. It makes you realise that he’s been eyeing the clock as well.

“So it is.” You acknowledge, and he’s so close that his breath skates against the skin of your cheeks, staring at you with an intensity you don’t understand.

“Did I... Did I do a good job?” He asks you. You press your lips together; in a way he did. You think you may have smiled in this month alone more than you have the entire year. But you also know that the rest of the year will now pale in comparison; the rest of winter will leech by, depressingly dreary, and summer will come and go in muddy heat. The year will both inch and speed by and that whole time you will have the special month of December in mind. The times you spent with Taehyung.

“You did.” You finally say. “I... Christmas was always so lonely and miserable to me. Where we tried to pretend that things were ok and merry and it would just dissolve into screaming matches. But with you, it wasn’t. You helped me make it into something warm, and beautiful. And even though...” your voice cracks, and it takes you a moment to reclaim your composure. “Even though the ending will be lonely and sad, you gave me all these wonderful memories. I’ll hear a Christmas carol and think of you from now on, Taehyung.”

When you finally gain the courage to meet his gaze, you’re startled to find tears pouring down his cheeks. He’s been sad and a little misty-eyed ever since he admitted he wouldn’t be around after Christmas, but he’s also been frustratingly composed.

But in that moment, he’s anything but. He looks devastated as he brings his hands up to press into his eyes in a vain attempt to stem the flow of tears.

“I’m sorry.” He gasps. “I tried so hard but... I never imagined Christmas would be like this. I was only supposed to make you smile and then go back to being a scarecrow and that should have been enough but it’s not.”

He’s full on sobbing now, and you can only stare in bewilderment as tears form in your own eyes.

“I want to spend New Year’s Eve with you, and start the New Year together. I want to see you on your birthday. I want to see you on happy days and sad days. I want to...” he rubs his eyes clear and stares straight at you. “I want to make you smile the whole year.” He confesses.

And that’s when your phone goes off. You’d set an alarm, earlier in the morning, so that you’d know the exact moment midnight hit. You glance away, for just a moment, dread hitting you full force like a sledgehammer.

And when you turn back, it’s too late. The familiar little scarecrow stares up at you from the couch, where Taehyung had been seated just moments before.

And you finally let yourself break down at the sight of the familiar button eyes.

And just like that, Christmas is over.

“Why does your apartment smell like someone’s been dumped?” Jin sniffs as he steps through the threshold of your home, uninvited as usual. You’re not sure how he got in, but he probably had a copy of your key made somehow without you noticing. He’s prone to doing invasive things like that.

“Being dumped doesn’t have a smell.” You snap, from where you had been curled up on the couch under a mound of blankets.

“Yes it does.” He insists. “It smells like...” he pauses to take one long, obnoxious sniff to the air before wrinkling his nose. “B.O. and cheetos.” He recites.

You sigh, still not bothering to shift from your blanket nest. You’d been expecting his visit, to be honest. It’s the day before New Year’s Eve and you haven’t responded to his annual New Year’s Eve Bash invite. He’s very intense about RSVPs.

“What do you want, Jin?” You ask. He picks his way delicately towards you, navigating his way through your semi-dissembled Christmas tree before settling before you in a crouch. You’d made it part-way through the post-Christmas clean up before you’d been too upset to continue.

“Well, you aren’t answering my texts or calls. Zero activity on social media, no RSVP to my party... So I thought I’d make sure you hadn’t choked on a piece of tinsel.” He looks around your apartment with distaste. “I’m actually not sure if I’m relieved that you’re ok if this is what “ok” looks like.”

You ignore him, choosing to focus your attention back to Netflix. His expression softens, just a fraction.

“Tell me what’s going on, (Y/N). And where’s.. where’s Taehyung?” He questions tentatively.

You’re unable to conceal the way your shoulders stiffen, just slightly, at the mention of his name. You’ve been doing your best in the five days since Christmas to bounce back and return to normal life, but you can’t seem to. It’s easier to lounge around on the couch than to muster up the emotional energy to pretend you’re ok. You’ve spent too long pretending you’re ok. There isn’t a single drop of you left that can even try to do so.

“He had to go.” You say, hating the way your voice goes abruptly raw with tears. Jin’s eyes widen just slightly, and he shuffles closer.

“What do you mean he had to go? He’s-“ As he said the words, his eyes had been darting wildly around the apartment, but he abruptly cuts himself off when he spots the scarecrow on your mantle. “Why is Taehyung...” he begins, before his gaze flickers to you.

“Oh.” He exclaims simply, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Oh, (Y/N).” He says, his voice filled with sympathy and sadness on your behalf.

You’re surprised when Jin engulfs you in a hug. You’ve never had that sort of friendship- he prefers to show his love by nagging you. But it’s weirdly comforting and you melt into his embrace.

“I’m sorry I didn’t RSVP.” You say glumly. “I didn’t feel like celebrating.”

Jin pulls away and scrutinises your expression.

“Forgive me if it seems probing, but I don’t understand what happened. You guys seemed like you were going great at dinner the other night.” He says. “Why... why didn’t you use his wish?”

You pull back and blink at him in confusion.

“His... wish?” You echo. Jin nods.

“All Christmas Spirit receive one wish for their entire career. It was instituted recently, though, maybe only in the last twenty years or so, so maybe Taehyung didn’t know about it?” Jin wonders.

Your eyes widen.

“Christmas Spirit?” You splutter. “You mean you knew?”

For someone who’s dropping a bombshell, Jin looks remarkably deadpan.

“Of course I knew. You think I wouldn’t notice a Christmas Spirit living in my store for five years?” He questions you with exasperation.

You stare at him incredulously.

“And you never thought, just once, that it would be a good idea to tell me what I was bringing home?” You demand. He rolls his eyes.

“Oh please. Like you would have believed me.” He says dismissively. “Little Miss Grinch, hates Christmas, told her weird Christmas Scarecrow is actually a special Christmas Spirit? I’m a simple man, (Y/N). I see an opportunity for a great Hallmark movie, I take it.”

You stare at him in rage, and then something occurs to you.

“That’s why you never came when I texted you that night! You knew it was Taehyung!” You realise in horror. “What if you had been wrong?”

At least he has enough sense of propriety to look sheepish.

“Taehyung would have helped you if I was wrong.” He offers meekly. The change in pace of conversation has you deflating.

“If you knew... why did you let him go home with me? I could have spent Christmas at home, alone, and not be dealing with any of this.” You confess, and Jin softens just a little bit.

“Well, because I didn’t want you to spend Christmas alone.” He admits. “Every year, you’re so miserable. And I thought Taehyung could change that. And honestly, I didn’t think it would end up like this and even if I did, I thought Taehyung would use his wish.”

“What wish?” You ask. Jin shrugs.

“Every Christmas Spirit gets one wish throughout their career. Usually it ends up being that they become human, but I know of some who have wished for other things.” He admits. You brows knit together as you gaze at your friend. Where is all this knowledge coming from?

“Jin... just who are you?” You ask hesitantly. He smiles awkwardly and rubs at the back of his neck.

“I’m Jin. The same Jin you’ve known for years. But before that, I was a little Christmas bear who spent years trying to make people happy on Christmas day.” He admits. “And one year... I’d had enough. So I wished that I could be human. And here I am today.” He smiles at you. “And it’s not too late. Taehyung can still do the same.” He glances over at your mantle, where the motionless Christmas Scarecrow sits. “Anyway, I have to get going. I was just coming to make sure you were alive.” He gets up and dusts off his pants. “Maybe give the apartment a clean, and then you can sit down and have a nice, long chat with that scarecrow over there.”

He makes to leave, but can’t resist tossing one last comment over his shoulder.

“I’m just going to assume you’re bringing a plus one. I’ll change your response to “going” on the fb invite.”

One clean apartment later, you stand before your mantle, gazing into the button eyes of the scarecrow. It’s weird to know that behind them, Taehyung watches you. What is he thinking? Is he sad? Lonely? Trapped? Is he listening?

You’re strangely nervous. Taehyung had told you that he’d wanted to spend the rest of the year with you, but maybe he changed his mind. Maybe watching you lounge around your apartment the past five days made him realise how lame you are. And if he only gets one wish in his entire career, why would he waste it now? He’s only had one Christmas to live out his purpose as a Christmas Spirit- maybe he’s not ready to give it up yet. Maybe you’re asking too much of him. It’s only been a month; to ask him to become human and face the horrors of the human world is maybe the cruelest thing you could do.

But your heart yearns, and ultimately that it what gives you the courage to begin speaking.

“I... don’t know how much you heard of what Jin said earlier.” You admit. “He pretty loud so you probably heard at least some of it. But the basic gist... is that you get a wish. Only one wish, so once you use it, that’s it. So, you have to use it wisely.”

You look away and squeeze your eyes shut.

“And, I understand if you want to save it. You’ve only just started out and maybe you want more time. But I was thinking... if all that stuff you said before is true... Maybe you can use it now. To be a human.” You inhale shakily. The offer is out in the open now.

The scarecrow doesn’t move.

“I mean, maybe you didn’t. That’s ok. I’ll be ok if you don’t actually want to spend the rest of the year with me. It’s a lot to ask when it’s only been a month. But I want to.” You squint and you feel the hot prick of tears forming at the corner of your eyes. “This has been the best Christmas I’ve ever had. I’ve never smiled so much before, and so easily. Something about you makes it so easy. And I was never brave enough to say it, but I like your smile too. I like it so much. It’s ridiculous that you can say my smile is lovely when you can look in the mirror and see what your smile looks like. And I... I don’t want to only get to see it on Christmas. I don’t want to spend eleven months waiting for you but the ridiculous part is that I will.” You admit. “I’ll just keep comparing things to the time I spent with you. I’ll spend eleven months of the year waiting for you’re smile. And that’s because... I really like you, Tae. So much- no, too much. I like you too much.” You’re full on crying at this point. “So please. Spend it on me. Wish to be a human. Wish to be here the rest of the year.”

You fall silent, and still, the scarecrow stares at you. Unmoving, unchanging.

You smile helplessly, before scrubbing at your eyes. He doesn’t want to use his wish. That’s ok. He doesn’t have to. It was stupid of you to think that he would.

You sniffle and open your eyes.

Only to be engulfed by two arms around your body.

“I like you too much as well.” Taehyung gasps. It takes you a moment to process- your face is smushed into his chest and his arms hold you securely. “I didn’t know about the wish. But... I want to keep spending time with you. I’d have spent it on you a hundred times over if I’d known.”

You go to pull away so that you can see his face, but he doesn’t give you the chance to because his lips are meeting yours.

It’s a sweet kiss but also a little clumsy and eager. Like he’s worried time is running out.

Gradually, the urgency fades and he pulls away. At this proximity, you can see the way his lashes frame his bright eyes, and the way his eyes crinkle into little tiny half moons. It’s a little surreal, being able to gaze upon him so freely when just last week you’d been prepared for a goodbye.

“So... you’re a human now? You get to stay?” You ask. He pulls back and squints at himself.

“I guess so. I can’t seem to turn back into a scarecrow so I guess... that I’m human now.” He says.

You kiss him again, after that. It’s soft and sweet and perfect. When you pull away, his eyes are hazy and his expression is unfocused. He looks adorably dishevelled and distracted, and then he offers you that smile, the one that makes your heart feel like it’s about to burst. His fingers come up to delicately trail over the paths of your face, like he’s trying to memorise what you look like.

“You’re smiling.” He breathes, his tone filled with wonder. His thumb comes up to reverently trace the curve of your lips. “It was your smile.” He confesses. You blink up at him in confusion and he chuckles in response. “It threw me off guard. At the ornament store. Up until that point I’d been so nervous whether I was in over my head with the whole Christmas spirit thing. And then you smiled at me and it wasn’t even because of anything I’d even done and suddenly I wanted to keep that smile on your face.”

You flush, a bit flustered by his admission, but he isn’t finished, apparently.

“It’s so pretty. You’re pretty.” He insists. “When you kissed me under the mistletoe I thought my heart was going to burst and then I remembered what I was. That I’m a Christmas Spirit and that I don’t get to do this. I get your smile at Christmas and then that’s it.” He smiles self-deprecatingly at himself before it shifts into something warmer, and fonder. “But now... now...” he trails away, too emotional to continue and he settles for pulling you into another tight embrace, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. All you can smell is that comforting scent of peppermint and cinnamon, and you melt. “Now I get your smiles the rest of the year too. I can’t wait to spend the rest of the year with you.” He confesses, a soft, whispered confession into the warm crook of your neck.

And there’s lots to do, and things you need to work out now that Taehyung is by your side as a human. Your relationship with your parents isn’t fixed, and he doesn’t have a job or a source of income, and there’s still some remaining Christmas decorations that need to be placed in storage.

But that’s ok. You’ll both work all that out together eventually. After all, you have the rest of the year to do so.

#thebtswritersclub #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #castlebangtan #taehyung fluff #writing #secret santa

294 notes · View notes

staarshines · 4 years ago

Note

adhjdjs yesss!! very happy that i found smone else writing for karev haha. could you do number 6 from the frozen prompts with him :’))

Surprises, Surprises, & More Surprises || A.K.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.6k

After a sleepless night, Alex decides you’ve had enough and pulls off a surprise for you, which surprisingly leads to feelings being revealed.

[A/N]: I’m only on season 14 of Grey’s, so if you want to send me a request with a specific scene that happens in the show, please make sure it’s not a spoiler!

Disney Prompts | Nat’s 500

“Hey, wake up.” Your head snaps up and you blink a couple of times, finding yourself standing over a nurse’s station desk. Groaning, you rub your eyes, checking the time and finding that you hadn’t even been asleep for one full minute. “You okay?” You turn to Alex, finding him with raised eyebrows and a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine,” you yawn, pressing the save button on your file and placing the tablet that you had been working on before you fell asleep on a charger stand.

“You were literally asleep standing up. We have on-call rooms for a reason.”

“The mattresses in there are shit. I still gotta pester Webber to replace those,” you mutter, sighing.

“Were you up studying for a surgery or something?” You shake your head, running a tired hand through your hair to tame it as best you could.

“Meredith and Derek were at it all night. I should’ve known to not take the room under hers intern year,” you state solemnly, sticking out your tongue playfully when Alex laughs at you.

“I told you that you can come sleep with me if that ever happens.”

“What a very tempting offer, Karev, but I’m just not interested. Must be hard for you to face rejection?” you tell him sarcastically, flipping your hair exaggeratedly.

Honestly? That was the furthest one could get from the truth. You’d had a crush on him since intern year, and you knew you loved him the second year of residency. Those feelings had failed to dissipate, and they haunted you every day. Watching him get with Izzie, then Olivia, next came Addison, then Rebecca, Callie, Lexie; the point is evident. He’d gotten with all of them, but he couldn’t see that the person who’d loved him for years was right in front of his face.

“Oh, shut up. But really. I don’t want you falling asleep on the job when you can just get a good night’s sleep next to me.” For some reason, his last sentence makes butterflies go crazy in your stomach, which is probably the millionth time that’s happened. You wished there was something under those words, you really did, but you’d come to terms with the fact that he didn’t like you a while ago.

“I’m not falling asleep!”

“Oh, please. You were literally asleep standing up.”

“I was resting my eyes,” you defend yourself. “I was just giving my spine a break from supporting my head for a bit.”

“Yeah, right,” he chuckles, making you push his shoulder.

“I actually went up to your room. You were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, though,” you lie with a straight face.

You had gone up to his room and even sat down on the edge of the bed, watching his chest rise and fall with every breath. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. Not stressed or snappy like he’d be on most days, but genuinely peaceful. Eventually, you’d left because you knew you’d get more sleep in your own room than Alex’s; you’d just be staring at him the entire night.

God, you really could never get enough of that face.

“We both know damn well that I’m a heavy sleeper. Just don’t steal the duvet, yeah?” You laugh with a nod.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“What’s this, the fourth time this has happened?”

“Sixth,” you correct with another yawn. “Or seventh. I honestly don’t know.” He tilts his head, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head. “Whatcha thinking, evil spawn?”

“That’s Cristina’s thing. And I’m thinking…” he trails off, prompting you to raise your eyebrows and wave a hand in front of his face. “You know what? I have a surprise for you. You get off at nine today, right?”

“I do, but why? What’s the surprise?” you question, genuinely intrigued as to what he was gonna pull off.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” You pout, watching him wink at you and walk off. “I’ll pick you up at the ER entrance once you’re done!” he calls out to you. You nod and realize there’s a patient you need to get to, but you’re deep in your thoughts as you walk the hallway to the Cardiac ICU.

What the hell was he gonna pull off?

“Put this on.” Alex hands you a blindfold and you look at him with a disbelieving expression, slapping it out of his hand and raising an eyebrow.

“I should’ve known there was something wrong when you sent me that text to meet you in your car,” you laugh, watching him huff.

“If you don’t put on the blindfold, then the surprise is gonna be ruined. You’re gonna know as soon as we pull into the damn lot, so just put it on?” You give him a weary look and pick it up from where you slapped it onto the dash of his car, slowly wrapping it around your head. Hearing him start the car, you sigh and bite your lip.

“I swear, if you’re playing some kind of joke, I’ll land you in the E.R., and not even by accident.” He chuckles before reversing the car and driving out of Grey-Sloan’s parking lot.

“Can I take this thing off now?” you whine, holding his hands and steadily walking—well, you don’t really know where. He’d just led you up a flight of stairs, so you’re pretty sure you’re walking down a hallway now.

“Just a couple more steps and we’ll be there,” he mutters, holding both of your hands and guiding you—again, you don’t have a clue where. “All right, stop. I gotta open this door.” You can hear keys jangle and you’re even more confused. “Okay, come on.” He leads you into the room, presumably, and puts his hands on the back of your blindfold, untying it. “Voilà!”

You flinch at the sudden change of light, putting a hand over your eyes and slowly blinking until you can open your eyes without any pain. An apartment—maybe a loft?—meets your gaze, and your jaw drops at how beautiful it is. Perfectly catered to your and Alex’s tastes, almost of like he had it custom-made.

“This—Holy shit. This is beautiful. What—How? Wait, why’d you bring me here?” You turn around to find him with a proud grin on his face, and you can read everything just from that. “This is ours?”

“Remember when we went apartment hunting because you started having the same problem with Derek and Mer and we came across that really musty loft that you said you wouldn’t move into in a million years?” He waves around, and your eyes widen.

“That’s this?” You walk slowly further into the loft, still awed by how much it had changed. What once used to look like a place where druggies would go to hang out now looked like a dream apartment. “How the hell did you manage this?”

“Well,” he walks up right next to you, admiring the loft, “you know I don’t like being told I can’t do something.”

“You did this? By yourself?” The surprises keep coming and coming, and you’re pretty sure your jaw is permanently unhinged because of how wide your mouth is open in shock. He nods proudly, putting his hands on his hips. “Let me get this straight. You renovated this by yourself?”

“Not too bad, huh?” You scoff disbelievingly, still not believing what you were seeing. “What? Do you not like it?”

“Are you serious? ‘Not too bad’?”

“We can find a different—”

“No! God, you can be such an idiot at times,” you laugh, pulling him into a hug. “It’s perfect.” He pushes you back by your shoulders but so much so that your arms are still around his torso, eyes darting all over your face to see if you’re kidding.

“You really like it?” You fight back a grin—and fail—at how cute he can be at times, nodding your head eagerly.

“I love it! I could kiss you! I could. I mean, I’d like to. I. May I? We me? I mean, may we? Wait, what?” The gravity of what you just said slaps you right in the face, and you remove your hands from his figure and start to let your mind race for an excuse. “I didn’t mean to say that—”

“You want to kiss me?” he asks in a soft whisper with the smallest smile on his face. You get lost in how awed he looks, nodding slightly.

“I’ve wanted to. Since intern year…” you trail off, thinking it won’t hurt if you tell him a bit more. You’ve already caused enough damage.

You realize it’s definitely not damage when his lips come crashing down into yours and he pulls you into him, hands gently cupping your face.

It’s not a soft kiss, but it’s not a rough kiss, either. It’s a kiss that’s full of longing, emotions, and “I’ve wanted to do this for so long”. You’re so in shock that you don’t actually register when he pulls away, so your eyes stay closed for a couple seconds longer than they should. When you open them, you’re taken aback again by all the adoration swimming in his eyes. Your eyes are having their own conversation with his, silently telling each other everything you two couldn’t communicate verbally.

“You like me?” You’re almost sorry his words break the nearly magical moment, giving him a light slap upside the head.

“No, I just kissed you for the hell of it. Of course I like you, dumbass!”

“And you’ve liked me since intern year.” Even the insufferable grin on his face isn’t enough to make you regret kissing him, which is a first.

“Oh, shut up about it and kiss me again.”

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mannien · 3 years ago

Text

Mornings in Sheffield Park | TH - CHAPTER 1

The one with stress, takeout food around the world, late night walks, and Disney dreams.

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: some stress, some anxiety, mention of sex, and a lot of smiles

Masterlist

Fourth week into the morning pitch meetings at BBC, Millie felt lifeless and drained. The room was usually exploding with ideas, creative energy, and a lot of constructive feedback to the few interns who were allowed to join the conversation with editors, writers, and producers. That morning had started ugly enough for her: with an overwhelming number of e-mails about the schedule and missing content for Politics Live.

When she first landed her spot at BBC, Millie was over the moon. She was constantly calling it a dream come true, a once in a lifetime opportunity for her to begin a writing career in media. Her degree seemed to be the best choice for her future and Millie was ready to prove that graduating from humanities can actually land her a decent job. Her first days were filled with morning preparations, early commute to the city centre and exceptionally smoothed out shirts. The work environment in such a fast-paced industry felt inspiring and daunting at the same time, but Millie felt obligated to use this experience to its full potential. Each day she attempted to learn more than the day before and possibly show off a tiny bit more of her creative skills to her superiors. She spent her evenings researching topics and people, trying not to fall out of the loop. Being one step forward was hard work, one that Millie desperately wanted to ace.

The second week of her internship brought a slight shift to her agenda. After grasping the general concepts of working for a major radio and TV broadcasting company, she was aware of the production processes. She tried to happily follow up all the details about the work of a writer, a researcher, or an editor – just so she could be prepared for the follow-up of the introductory week. And as she hoped her interview was remembered and she would soon contribute to any program touching upon music or pop culture, her dreams and calls were slowly fading away. The intern manager ascribed her to the team devoted strictly to politics and daily news, having no vacancies for the popular radio programs. Even though she took whatever spot was offered, it was only to get more insight and experience.

Having already managed to speak up a few times during the morning routines in the conference room, Millie eased herself into the work environment and was treated like a regular employee. But the first wave of success quickly passed, especially when she was hit with growing emptiness in her brain. She did not enjoy politics, so as far as she could, she attempted to sneak in a sociological aspect into the context. But her tactic had an expiration date.

A couple of heads were expectantly turned at Millie when she was unsurely stuttering her weak ideas for the upcoming programme. She knew it wasn’t going well and she was mentally cursing herself for trying to impress the producers that much so early on.

“This isn’t gonna work. We’ve covered this enough in the evening news. Let’s take five, and maybe you’ll come up with a different angle. I’ll give you another shot here.”

Hugh, the head writer took off his glasses and watched her fidget in her seat. She nodded and took a deep breath, before leaving the room for a short break. Her mind was racing in panic; she wasn’t ready to admit that she didn’t have any idea. She walked back and forth through the corridor until she cursed quietly and walked away to the main hall. She pulled her phone from the back pocket and without overthinking this anymore, she called her boyfriend. He picked up after the third ring.

“Babe, can I call you back…”

“No, Frank,” She felt determined and fierce. Her hands shook from the pure view on board members slowly coming back from the kitchen with fresh coffee mugs. They were probably waiting to hear her another take on the TV show which Millie, wholeheartedly, was beginning to hate. “My work on the programme is too basic and I’ve been roasted for the past fifteen minutes or so. Hugh has me in the spotlight in front of everyone. Help me, please?”

“It’s not your fault they’ve given you a job you’re not good at, babe. It’s just an internship, they will roast you anyway.”

Millie’s lungs were ready to stop working and suffocate her. She feared she might start hyperventilating, or at least meet up with a panic attack from the nerves. Franklin’s reaction seemed to be absolutely unfair and inconsiderate of her actual feelings, and he must have felt that through the piercing silence on the line.

“Look, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t worry so much about it. They will probably just give you another placement where you’ll fit more, I don’t see why it’s such a bad thing.” And just like that, she started doubting herself and her right to overthink her situation. It didn’t sit well with Millie and she could feel anger slowly making its way through her veins.

“Can’t you just fucking help me? This one time?” She lost her temper, she lost her patience. At the same time Riley, one of the end writers, started waving at her from the end of the hall as to show her that her time is coming to an end. “I need a hook, or something that would spark a debate. Brexit-themed, maybe. Can you think of anything?”

Frank groaned loudly. He wasn’t exactly happy that she made him break down his ambitious wall and let her in on topics he was too invested in. Millie could hear him moving around as he left his desk of the equally large office of The Guardian, until the line went surprisingly quiet. Her anger and fear made her clutch her phone tightly to her ear, while her legs started carrying her slowly to the terrifying conference room.

“Think internationally. See what the Spanish had to say about May’s resignation from the Office. Think economics in the EU. Try to stand on the Union’s side and do some fair judgement.”

“Give me facts, not ideas. You’re the one who knows politics.”

“Spanish government says that May’s resignation is bad news. Compare it to the popular opinion that she was the worst Prime Minister since the 18th century and the American war on independence.” Millie breathed in, trying to desperately grasp all the details he just provided her with.

“That’s a… harsh and history-digging argument,” She mumbled in surprise, “where did you get that from?” She grabbed a yellow post-it note from the reception desk and quickly scribbled the key words on it. Her briefing on politics was never something like this and she could feel the embarrassment making its way into her heart. It wasn’t her way of thinking and she felt like a fraud.

“I can’t tell you that.” By the end of the single sentence Millie could feel the blood escaping her face, making her look pale and scared for dear life. She didn’t want to have heard that sentence, she was definitely happier not knowing how did he come up with a story like this. That was one of the many reasons she tried not to talk business with him.

“An opinion entry. A column for The Guardian. Shit, you just busted one of your colleagues.”

“Sometimes I hate it that you’re smart. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You just saved my internship!”

“Please don’t say that. I will pretend that we just talked about the weather.”

“I’ll spend them the details. You’re the best, Frank.”

“Alright, go kick ass.”

And that she did. Franklin did save her internship, mainly because Millie avoided the specifics about who and why said something so harsh about the resigning Prime Minister. However, it definitely did spark interest among the production board. Afraid of not being so lucky next time, she decided to politely suggest a replacement for her permanent internship division within BBC, due to her ‘personal discomfort with discussions over issues of such importance and potential shame to their glorious country.’

Millie felt bad for using her boyfriend’s knowledge for survival at work. She wasn’t genuine and her idea didn’t come from her hard work - it was sourced in fear and anxiety-driven reactions. This situation proved to her that she wasn’t fit for the position, but it also raised her stress levels around the fact that she couldn’t get by on her own in the industry. She didn’t want others to navigate her through it all, but the conversation she had with Frank had also made her uncomfortable. Her need of support in a stressful situation was primarily turned down, so—naturally to her character—she started to worry even more.

With a heavy heart and two bags of Wagamama takeout, she walked up the stairs to his apartment. She was usually working until later hours than Frank, so all she really needed was for him to open the door for her. She leaned on the doorframe as she waited patiently for the two turns of the lock. He opened still in his work attire – tailored jeans and a light grey button up shirt. He was holding his phone next to his ear and humming approvingly to the speaker when he looked her up and down. He winked at her and let her in, as he continued to talk with someone.

Inside, Millie found the TV turned on with a football game playing. His work jacket was still hanging on the back of the tall stool in the kitchen, and the grocery bags laid unpacked on the table. She took off her shoes and made her way to the kitchen, where she made a little room for their food on the countertop. Pulling off her sweater, she peeked into the shopping bags – she wasn’t surprised to find a couple bottles of beer and food essentials, a multipack of tissues and a large box of condoms.

“What’s all this, babe?” Franklin came up to her and briefly kissed her on the lips, before looking into the boxes with deliciously smelling food.

“I just thought it might be nice to eat some goodies,” She smiled, trying to sniff out his mood first. He smiled back at her with approval and reached for the plates in the cupboard, so she continued, “also, it’s a ‘thank you for being my saviour today,’ kinda thing.”

“Ah, yeah. I bet everyone on my floor will hate BBC’s guts for that.” Frank said it so casually, with a shrug to follow up, that Millie struggled to understand the dynamic he had at The Guardian. He seemed to be a great fit for his team, because a week into his new job, he was already invited for Friday drinks and talked about his co-workers just like anyone would about their long-time friends. She couldn’t understand how was he getting so lucky at any step, but the last thing she wanted to do is doubt him. Any time worries and competitiveness clouded her brain, Millie was making extra room for compassion and support.

Frank unloaded some of the curry on his plate and started eating with a fork, and then made his way to the living room where he spread out on the sofa. He didn’t say anything else, somewhat scaring Millie that he will let her know he’s uncomfortable randomly, on a promisingly good day. Trying to figure out her brain, she followed his actions and took some extra food to the coffee table, before sitting down next to him.

“But you’re not gonna get into trouble for that, are you?” she was biting the inside of her cheek hard, definitely not used to not being judged for using someone else’s help.

“Nah, I don’t think so. They don’t know I’ve got a girl at BBC, so I should be just fine.”

Millie ate her curry in silence, suddenly at loss of words driven by his surprising statement. She didn’t want to raise an argument or seem overly sensitive. But for some reason she hoped that he would talk about her at work, especially considering his already formed strong bonds in the office, and a definitely higher success rate in his position. Ever so charming Franklin, he always glowed among people. She couldn’t really fight with this, so she just kept any comments to herself and focused on her food.

Frank switched the channel to the evening news and pulled her to his side once they were done eating. It comforted Millie to know that at the end of the day, they could both enjoy each other’s company, no matter what was happening at work. She didn’t pay much attention to the news, but rather focused on the way he reacted to it and what he enjoyed. She felt too tired to get invested in another load of politics, so she just soaked in his warmth and curled more into his side. He smelled of coffee and heavy, musky cologne that he liked to reapply frequently. Millie closed her eyes and breathed out the stress that weighed her down after a long day, finally finding peace.

“I’ll go grab a beer, you want one?” he abruptly stood up, making her slightly loose her balance and lean back towards the pillows. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips in a thin line.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“You sure? You’re awfully quiet today.” He spoke already from the kitchen, not even catching a glimpse of her pursed lips.

“I just need to wind down. It’s been stressful day.” She pushed a little smile on her cheeks as he came back with a frown. He took a few large sips of his drink and put it on the table, before lowering himself on the couch and leaning over Millie.

“I can help you relax, if you want.” He raised an eyebrow in a flirtatious manner, leaning into her and leaving a series of delicate kisses on her lips. He then moved onto her jaw and sucked on her skin, but never left a mark. Slowly massaging her waist, he slid his hand under her shirt and sprawled his fingers across her hip to pull her closer.

Millie enjoyed the warmth that started to spread through her body, but she couldn’t find any energy to give some of it back. She felt drained and exhausted, so a mere thought about participating in sexual activities was sure to make her at least slightly uncomfortable. Unless Frank was willing to change something about it.

“Okay, hold on,” her chuckle and a light push at his chest made him narrow his eyebrows in confusion, “I don’t think I’ve got enough energy today, Frankie.” Her whisper was followed by a reassuring smile. She weaved her fingers through his short hair and kissed the tip of his nose.

“What if I provide you with some energy first?”

“What, you’ll give me an energy drink?” She laughed at her poor joke and he chuckled, too, but more at her silliness than anything else. He laid her down comfortably and cautiously peppered her with kisses on her neck and the tiny bit of cleavage that was available without unbuttoning her shirt. She was slowly giving in, allowing him to get lower on her body and touch her. Frank either wanted to make her feel better, or was really horny. But whatever the case was, she didn’t want to stop him and ruin his enthusiasm. The glow in his eyes and admiration painted across his face were too intoxicating to back away. His touch was filled with sparks of emotions and a kind of drive that Millie was addicted to. She felt wanted and needed, and that’s what made her return the heated kisses despite her hooded, weary eyes.

They walked hand in hand through the chilly evening, sometime after she persuaded Frank to walk her to the nearest tube station. The wind was slightly tickling her neck, but other than that she felt at peace. She let her hair down, flowing gently with each blow of the air and lightly caressing her face like a safety blanket. They swayed their hands until they had to make room for a group of people passing by.

“Jane texted me about a little get together this Friday,” She mumbled into the night, trying not to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere around them.

“Ah, yeah. Aaron told me about it, too. I guess we’re going, right?”

“Yeah, it might be nice. The girls mentioned this new club near their apartment? I think that’s where they wanted to go.”

“Cool. I could use a little break.”

As they continued their walk, Millie mostly focused on leading the way through tight London streets. Franklin’s parents rented him an apartment in the city centre, close to everything you could dream of in London. It also meant crowded streets at any hour, so to have a nice walk around the neighbourhood usually requested it to be late at night. But it didn’t matter to him, as long as he had a short commute to the office and all other things that life requested from him, within reach. There were times when he would mention coming back to Manchester and supporting his parents at their law firm, but Millie saw how much he preferred his growing career as a journalist. Mathilda and William were a generous couple, so they shared their resources with him and tried to help him get into the business as smoothly as possible. Sometimes she wanted to ask him about his permanent position at The Guardian and whether his name had anything to do with it, but she never felt comfortable enough to do it. Some things were better left unspoken.

Reaching the staircase to the station, Franklin stopped and made her turn to him and look up at his smiling face.

“Thanks for coming over tonight. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too.” She smiled shyly, nodding her head in reassurance.

“I wish you could finally move to the city, though. It would be so much easier if you were a few blocks away.”

“You do realize that even if I moved out, it wouldn’t be anywhere nearby?” Her chuckle resonated through her body, almost as if she wanted to humour herself at the topic that had started to come up more often in their conversations.

“I could ask around the office if anyone has a room available to rent.”

“But I don’t want to share my personal space with strangers, you know this. Don’t try to change my mind about it.” She smiled tightly.

Frank has been trying to persuade her into moving out for months. He wanted to be closer to her, within a short train journey, rather than a whole commute in and out of Kingston. He felt comfortable in the business of London, and Millie liked to call him out on being spoiled by having an apartment on his own in such a lively part of the city. But she wasn’t financially ready to leave her family home in equally comfortable Southwest London, where she had all she needed within her reach, and her social life was just a tiny bit longer train trip away. It was a source of their small disputes from time to time, because it was Millie who spent more time on going to his place and spending time there. Naturally, it made her feel more engaged in their relationship and Frank tried his best make up for the difference. But one thing that never occurred, was Millie staying over for longer than a night. Even a night’s sleepover was a rare event, somehow always blessed by excuses from either one of them.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he pecked her lips and brushed her cheek with his thumb. “I talk about it out of concern, okay?”

“Okay. But I like my train rides and I like Kingston. So let’s just deal with it for now, yeah?”

“’Course,” He sent her a tight smile before giving her one last kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

“Will do.”

Millie was one of those people who could be easily judged as thinkers. Years of taking trains and buses in and out of central London taught her to cherish every moment of peace she gets during her journeys. That’s how she learned to create playlists for each season – summer commutes were always different than autumn ones; they required different sounds and lyrical quality. Intense months during university semesters also showed her how to read fast between the stops and how to juggle standing on the tube and holding an open book without falling, as the train slowed and rushed every few seconds.

As she was approaching her station in Kingston, she stopped the music but kept her earphones in. A bunch of other people was hurrying to get out of the train and get home as soon as possible, but after leaving the station, she would have a lonely 15-minute walk to her neighbourhood, so she always tried to stay alert in the evenings. Getting on the sidewalk in the busiest area of Kingston, she closed her book and put it back in her backpack, pulled the jacket tighter around her middle and continued her steady walk.

The air was getting crispier with each minute outside. It was refreshing and calm, disturbed only by a few laughs from the pub across the street and two cars passing her by. She turned into one of the quieter streets, where the buildings were becoming shorter and more separated from each other. Brick fences and trimmed hedges adorned the concrete sidewalks on both sides of the street, illuminated only by a few lanterns. Most of the light was coming from the windows in a row of semi-detached houses that Millie has known for a good chunk of her life.

Right when she wanted to cross the street and take a right, she heard a subtle clicking of a dog collar and a leash. Soft padding from the back was slowly approaching her and becoming louder, as well as someone’s whistle.

“Tess, come here!” a hushed call didn’t disrupt the peace of the night, but rather added the familiarity that Millie adored. She slowed her walk and turned around, just in time to be met with lightly jogging blue Staffordshire Bull Terrier. She panted lightly with her tongue out and reached Millie’s legs, where she tucked her head and mewled timidly.

“Oh, and who do we have here?” Millie chuckled at the dog’s persistence in keeping close. She scratched her head and patted her on the back, “are you on your evening walk, Tessa? Is that right?”

“We didn’t mean to scare you, Millie,” Dominic reached them and sent Millie a kind and apologetic smile, “good evening.”

“Hi, it’s good to see you.” She beamed at the middle-aged man, whom she learned to adore like a family member.

“Likewise, yeah. Heading home?”

“I am, just got off the train.”

“We will keep you company, then. Is that alright?” He fixed his glasses and leaned down to attach the leash to Tessa’s collar. Millie’s insides warmed and her mind calmed down at the idea that she will get to spend a few minutes with a friend.

“Absolutely, thank you.”

“Ah, don’t mention it. I bet Tom would have my head, hadn’t I offered,” they chuckled at the mention of his son. Their laughter died off comfortably and escaped into the night air, while Millie reminisced about the caring nature of the Hollands. “How is it going at BBC?” he asked after a moment, letting her go first through a narrow passage.

“It’s… going,” she smiled shyly, not sure how to dress up her words. In Dominic’s company she always felt one step behind in her creative skills; his writing and comic abilities exceeded her capabilities, or so she thought. “but I feel like I’ve definitely hit an end with politics. I know it’s only been a month, but it’s just… it keeps on proving that I should be writing about something else.”

“Oh, it’s totally understandable. Rest assured, you’re not the only one stuck like this,” They turned the corner onto her street. “but I wish you luck there. They have some sensible editors, so I assume you’ll get a chance at something else as well.”

“I hope so. Today I asked them about switching departments and the intern manager told me she will think about it, so there is a tiny light.”

“Something will always work out. You’re smart, you’ll find your way there.”

Dom and Millie continued down the sidewalk, until Tessa stopped near the gate to Millie’s house. She sniffed the pavement and turned back to the girl who crouched down to pet the Staffy one last time.

“Thanks for walking with me,” her smile was genuine, coming straight from her heart. “please say hi to Nikki and the boys. Is Sam still home?”

“He is, he starts his practice at the end of June. So, we all will be here to celebrate your birthdays.”

“Oh, that’s great! It’s been a while since we’ve all been together.”

“That’s true. But you’re welcome to stop by anytime.”

“I know, thank you.” With fondness painted across her face, she scratched Tessa’s ear and stood up straight, reaching for the keys in her pocket.

“Have a good night.”

“You too. Bye, Tess!”

Whenever she got the chance to interact with someone from their family, Millie instantly felt their love and care penetrate her straight to the core. It was this kind of relationship that had been built through the years, only making it stronger and bringing it closer to the concept of family.

Nikki, Dom’s wife and Anna, Millie’s mother met shortly before Millie and Tom were born. At first only neighbours, soon they became best friends to the point of engaging their families in a kind affair. Greetings at the doorstep turned into late night family dinners and weekends away with the kids. They were used to spending most of the birthdays and holidays together, especially when Millie and Tom’s birthdays two days apart brought them all closer. She raced her best friend in Anna’s womb and came out to this world right before the brown-haired boy. Ever since the Beavers celebrated the birth of their third and youngest daughter, the Hollands began their journey with four boys. They always stayed close and treated each other like family, deeming it necessary to nourish their friendship and turn it into something everlasting. The example of their parents taught Millie and Tom to mimic the closeness and made them create their own little world.

Millie’s older sisters also treated Tom, Harry, Sam and Paddy like brothers, but not as much as Millie did. Samantha and Liz were already grown toddlers when the families got together, so they figured more as the female patrons of their youngest sister and her adventures with the boys. But Millie and Tom’s friendship turned into something so effortless and harmless that no supervision was necessary. They were each other’s partners in crime, best friends from next door. Their mothers had signed them up for the same dance classes, helped them get to the same summer carnivals, and let them have late nights in makeshift dens. Millie was one of the first people their dog, Tessa, got familiar with. She missed him dearly when he started his journey as a young actor, but Nikki made sure he always made the time to call his best friend when the time zones were somewhat cooperating. They nurtured their friendship through Millie’s education and Tom’s career, not stopping even for a moment. He was there for her always, carrying her home when she scratched her knee after falling off the slings. She would help him with homework whenever he felt too embarrassed to ask his parents. Tom escorted her home from her disaster of a prom; he was the first one to understand her anxiety and help her through it. And Millie always read the books and scripts Tom needed to prepare for auditions. Just like that, they always found home in one another.

Their house smelled of baking and freshly watered plants. As quietly as possible, Millie took off her shoes and tip-toed into the kitchen, turning on only the least invasive, small lights. She put down her backpack and lightly stretched, letting out a tired, yet content breath. Her eyes scanned the kitchen in search for the source of the sweet scent, and there it was, on a cooling rack in the corner, covered with a tea towel – fresh lemon sponge cake, the favourite of Millie’s mother. Lightly dusted with powdered sugar, it added an extra layer of sweet comfort to the late night’s atmosphere. She left the cake untouched, but put the kettle on to quickly make herself a cup of tea for a good night’s sleep. She let out an overwhelming yawn and rested her hips on the side of the countertop, patiently waiting for the water to boil.

She felt her phone vibrate in the back pocket of her jeans. The brightness of the screen was almost blinding, until it adjusted to the low lighting in the room. She could feel the anticipation growing in the back of her head as she noticed a new message.

(Tom) I got you something today

After a second or two, a picture loaded under the message. Millie gasped and smiled like mad, when he showed her a pair of Minnie Mouse sequin ears. It was an artefact that Millie has always dreamt of, not having an opportunity to go to Disneyland ever in her childhood. She awaited the chance with high hopes and wandering mind, but she knew the trip had to be thorough, well-planned, and wholesomely happy.

(Me) You were in Disneyland????

(Tom) yeah we did promo for spidey today

(Me) I’m so jealous rn

(Me) THANK YOU FOR THE EARS!!!!!

(Tom) it’s alright

(Tom) I didn’t get any weird looks at all

(Tom) Just casually carried around this shiny sparkling beauty

(Me) I bet you loved this feeling

(Me) I bet you bought yourself a pair too

(Tom) Don’t tell anyone

(Me) You could always pretend they’re for Tessa

(Me) I just saw her and your Dad btw

Whenever her and Tom texted, it always sparked a never-ending conversation about sweet nothings. They mocked each other, talked about their days, spoke about all things home. It allowed them a safe space from their daily hustles; Millie was able to breathe lightly and happily, and Tom had a chance to detach from the world he desperately tried not to drown in.

Almost spilling the tea, she slowly made it upstairs without losing the sight of her phone screen. She struggled to turn off the lights in the corridor without making a noise but somehow, she managed not to disturb her parents too much, as she reached her bedroom. Safe within her own little space, she put down the mug and let go of her backpack and jacket. She threw herself on the softest bedspread and waited patiently for Tom’s reply.

The text bubble stopped and a massage didn’t appear, but her phone started ringing. Millie answered the FaceTime call and waited for the camera on his phone to adjust and show his familiar face.

“I had a meeting with Disney and they want me to participate in one of their projects for a Marvel-themed ride at Disneyland,” from a crooked angle she could see his neatly gelled hair and uneven eyebrows. Tom was walking somewhere, but then sat down and perched his phone on the mug that stood on the coffee table, so that she could see him better.

“That’s exciting, right?”

“Oh, yeah!” She could see him rummage in a brown paper bag and pull out a box with some takeaway food. “But I’m telling you this because we could turn it into our Disneyland trip that you’ve wanted, right?”

“That would be nice, yeah.” She smiled back at the screen, but a terrible yawn sneaked in to her expression. Tom scrunched his forehead and took a large sip from a bottle of water.

“I didn’t wake you up now, did I?”

“No, I just came back home. I am tired, though.”

“Yeah? How was work?”

“Stressful and not nice. It wasn’t a good day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Wanna talk about it?”

Tom spent the next minutes carefully listening to her words and trying not to spill his soup on his fresh clothes. He hummed to some of the stories and asked little intrusive questions, to get the whole picture. She kept rubbing at her eyes and stifling her yawns every now and then, at last making a mess of her mascara and getting it all over her skin. Despite the seriousness in her voice, Tom smiled fondly to himself at the view of her ruined face that probably mimicked her current mental state. It wasn’t something he should laugh about, but it was rather endearing to have her so comfortably sharing her lows with him, while he casually ate his lukewarm, very late lunch.

“Why are you laughing at me?” She returned his smile, knowing it was probably something she did.

“You made yourself look like panda.” He chewed on a chunk of chicken from his second plate. The wrinkles by his eyes deepened with each of her chuckles and proved to them that this is the lightness they need in their daily routines. “Well, it’s good you asked for a new placement. You should be comfortable in your work environment. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she yawned again and stopped herself mid-rubbing her eye again, earning a wholesome, groggy laugh from her friend, “your dad thinks they will give me another chance.”

“I mean, he knows some people there, so he probably has a point.”

“Yeah, I just don’t want to get my hopes up too high, you know?” A comfortable silence rested between them after he nodded and continued munching on his food. Millie stood up from her bed and took the phone with her, but also started to slowly get ready for the night.

“You will know when the moment feels right and shows you something worth a shot. Trust yourself, Mills.”

“I guess…” she trailed off, making her way to the closet to find fresh pyjamas. “I’m glad my panda face entertained your… what is it, lunch break?”

“Sort of, yeah,” he chuckled, enjoying the playfulness of her tired self, “I should be coming back in two weeks. We could hang out then, if you’ll have the time.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Alright, I’ll let you rest. Text me anytime, yeah?”

“I will. Thanks for the Minnie ears!”

“You got it, Minnie Mouse. Sweet dreams.”

* * *

After her little mishap with Politics Live, Millie tried her best to keep up the hard work, but stay low. She tried not to focus too much attention and just assist other workers in their tasks, only coming up with ideas when necessary. She strived to come back to her public voice, but she knew she needed it to have a comfortable outlet, preferably in another setting and on different topics. She was greeting the intern manager with additional caution and kindness, trying her best not to leave her case forgotten.

Segregating files for the research team seemed to be the best solution to her temporary creative break. Her attention to detail and wholesome care about the task being done to its full potential came in handy. She volunteered to help the group of meticulously scribbling and researching men in keeping their documents in order.

The soft mumble of the radio in the background was interrupted by a guy named Tim. He always wore rock band t-shirts under his jackets and Millie swore she had seen him participate in a wild dance routine during the last year’s Glastonbury Festival. He stopped typing on his keyboard and started to quietly hum a song that was definitely different to what Scott Mills was announcing on Radio 1.

“Oh my God, do you guys know this song? I can’t get it out of my head!” he groaned in frustration, making a few people in the open space office chuckle.

“Do you know any words, maestro?” Millie’s head snapped up at the sound of Kim, the intern manager’s voice. She was passing by with a bunch of files and a coffee, before she perched herself on his desk, obviously making fun of her friend.

“It’s got this very cool, mariachi-like trumpet between the lines,” he mimicked a trumpet player and hummed some more, “and the guy sings something about stopping a feeling…”

“Justin Timberlake?”

“You know he’s not my jam, Kim! It’s an old-school song.”

“You’re the old-school one here.” Kim’s comment earned a couple more laughs at poor Tim, who was genuinely struggling. “you’re the researcher, have you googled it?”

“Of course I googled it, stop mocking me! People are watching.”

Their little light-hearted exchange brought a breezy atmosphere to the office and made Millie smile some more. She kept on looking up at Tim to check if he’s found the song he was looking for, but without luck. Her fingertips started to tingle with each swipe through the pages in a file, because she felt like she knew the song. Deciding to come against her decision to lay low, she gently cleared her throat and swallowed her nerves of speaking up in a new environment.

“Hey Tim, have you tried to find it on Spotify?” they both looked at Millie with playful smiles, as anyone would to the up and coming intern fresh out of university.

“I don’t think it’s the title of the song, so I won’t find it there.”

“But you actually could,” she offered, biting her lip nervously “since the recent update, you can now type in the lyrics into the search bar and the results will show you all licensed songs with the same or similar lyrics.” Tim instantly reached for his phone and started typing away.

“Oh really? I didn’t know that, let’s see…” Kim looked into his phone and watched his progress.

“And since you’ve remembered a catchy verse, it’s very possible that others also tried to find this song through the same words. So, it will probably come up within the first few results.”

“Alright, smarty.” He shook his head in amusement. Millie watched as Kim’s face got ridden of any emotion and just stared at Tim’s work.

“But if nothing comes up, you can always try ‘Hooked on a Feeling’ by Blue Swede.”

Millie waited with racing heart at their reactions. Tim clicked on one of the results and raised the volume, filling the room with a sound so familiar to Millie’s memory. She smiled shyly and internally patted herself on the back, before coming back to her task.

“How did you know this song?” His triumphant smile was radiating, as he did a little dance in his seat and twirled on his rolling chair. “It’s such an old tune, I didn’t think your generation would know it!”

“Yeah Millie, how did you know?” Kim encouraged his question and watched her carefully, almost as if she was studying her intern.

“It’s in the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy. I wrote a paper on it.”

“Hm.” Kim’s unreadable expression was giving Millie chills, but in a positive way. She liked to be asked about things that interested her and prompted her to be creative, so the way this situation evolved was close to burst her heart into passionate flames. “I’ll ask the Radio managers if they want a music and pop culture geek, how’s that sound?”

It sounded like Millie put the trust in herself at the right time.

****

tagged: @peeterparkr @katieraven @kozybear@sunsetholland @hey-marlie @lauras-collection@cunaeparker @constellationsv @heyhihellowhatsup0 @spideyspeaches

If it bothers you that you’re tagged, please let me know!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland x oc #mornings in Sheffield park #misp #tom holland fanfic #tom holland blurb

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jlalafics · 4 years ago

Note

#16 “Are you hurt?” “No.” “Then why are there bruises all over your face?”

And now for some teen Everlark...

“You want him to notice you, right?” Johanna, her cousin, asks. “The first thing is that you have to make him see that you’re a girl.”

Johanna is a seventeen, a good four years older than Katniss. She’s popular and pretty—her dark magnetic eyes capturing the eyes of many boys in the senior class. However, it isn’t just that; her cousin exudes a confidence and allure that she could only dream of imitating.

“What do you think I should do?” Katniss asks over the phone.

Downstairs, her mom and dad are getting ready to head next door to help the Mellarks set up for the party. Prim, her three-year-old sister, is already is there, playing with Delly, who is Rye Mellark’s girlfriend and the Everdeens go-to babysitter.

“Well…have you tried some makeup?” Johanna suggests kindly. “Some lipstick…eyeshadow…blush?”

“I don’t know how to put any of that stuff on!” Katniss tells her in a panic.

“Do you have magazines? Seventeen? Teen Vogue?”

“No, I’ve never really been interested in them,” Katniss admits. She’s seen the other girls in class looking through issues of Seventeen, but those kinds of magazines didn’t interest her as much as the life cycle of a frog or the works of the Brontë sisters. “I’m just not like the other girls. I’m different…I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

“You like him a lot, don’t you?” Johanna muses over the phone. “Okay, why don’t you gather a few things from your mom’s makeup stash? I’ll guide you over the phone.”

“Okay,” she readily agrees.

“So, you’re going to need some eyeshadow, blush, and maybe a nude lipstick…”

++++++

Katniss practically skips over to the Mellarks, an hour later.

It might’ve taken a few tries, but she had managed to follow Johanna’s careful instructions.

Now, she’s a new person—in a butterscotch baby doll dress and brown ankle boots—as she opens the door and steps into inside the Mellark home. She’s spent most of her childhood there and they always leave the door unlocked, in case she wants to hang out with the boys.

All the adults are gathered in the living room, chatting over coffee and her mom spies her first.

“Katniss—OH!” Her eyes widened and she shoots up from her spot next to her husband to join Katniss in the entryway. “You look…different.”

“I borrowed some of your makeup,” Katniss says. “Are you upset?”

“No, sweetheart,” her mom replies. “But uh…how did you know what to do?”

“Johanna taught me over the phone,” she tells her.

There’s a series of stomps as Rye and Delly come downstairs. In Delly’s arms is Prim, who squeals at seeing Katniss. As the couple get to the final steps, their eyes zero in on Katniss and they immediately freeze.

“Who did this?” Rye asks immediately, concern in his eyes.

He’s always been protective of Katniss, seeing her as a little sister. Katniss can understand why a new look might make him worry about her getting some attention.

“Katniss has decided to try a new look,” her mom informs the couple hurriedly. “Doesn’t she look like a whole new woman?”

“Oh yeah!” Delly walks over to her, a tight smile on her face. “I have a lipstick that would go great with it. Why don’t we go upstairs—”

The conversation is interrupted by a group of boys coming from the backyard. Vick and Gale Hawthorne, who live across the street, are arguing over the right way to pitch, their catching mitts on, while Evan, Delly’s younger brother follows behind with Pe—

“Whoa.” Vick stops in front of her. “What happened to your face?”

Gale puts a finger to her carefully applied blush. “Are you hurt?”

Katniss swipes his finger away. “No.”

Vick peers even closer. “Then, why are there bruises all over your face?” He steps back. “Is that makeup?” He begins to cackle loudly. “I think you went a little overboard—”

“Vick.” Mrs. Hawthorne has suddenly joined them, eyes hard. “Why don’t you go home?”

“What did I do?” he yowls.

“You didn’t learn the proper art of subtlety,” Rye growls, leading the boy out the door.

“Katniss?”

She turns at the soft, kind voice to find Peeta Mellark approaching her, his luminous blue eyes gazing at her in worry.

“Hi, Peeta,” she greets him with a nervous smile. “Happy birthday.”

Katniss tries to tap down the excitement of Peeta seeing her new look.

Maybe now, he’ll see her as more than his teammate on the softball team. She might not be as developed as some of the other girls in class, but he can’t deny that she’s not a girl, especially with her new makeover.

“So, you’re going for a new look?” he asks.

She wants to say it’s all for him, but instead just nods in nervousness.

Katniss has to know. “Do you like it?”

There’s a panicked expression on his handsome face and his pallor goes scarlet.

“It’s…interesting,” he finally tells her.

Something sinks at the look in his eyes. “You hate it.”

Katniss can feel her face begin to crumble and she heads towards the door, stopping suddenly when she catches her reflection in a mirror next to the door.

She’s hideous.

The brown eyes shadow is spread too thick on her lids, some of it has traveled under her eyes making her look bruised. The blush is streaked on her cheeks; she looks like she’s been slapped on both sides and the lipstick makes her look ghoulish.

Katniss should have listened when Johanna said less was more.

Throwing the door open, she rushes out, slamming it behind her and barely making it home before bursting into tears.

++++++

She’s getting ready to go to bed, sans makeup, when there’s a knock on the door.

Her mom steps in, giving her a gentle smile. “Now, there’s my girl.”

“I’m not a little girl,” Katniss bristles, sitting on her bed, and crossing her arms. “Not like anyone even notices.”

“I’ve noticed,” her mom replies, joining her, and putting an arm around Katniss’ shoulders. “Maybe I’ve just been in denial because I’m not ready to let go. You’re my first baby.”

“I’m tired of people not seeing me,” Katniss tells her.

“People see you.” Her mom lifts her chin. “You have no idea the effect you have on people.”

Katniss looks to her. “What do you mean?”

“There’s someone who wants to see you on our porch.” Her mom stands and tugs her up. She quickly undoes Katniss’ braid, combing her fingers through to define her daughter’s waves. Then her mom goes to her closet, grabbing her long burgundy cardigan. “It’s chilly, so wear this.”

She eyes her mother. “Okay.”

“Don’t stay out too long,” her mom replies with a slight grin. “Your dad won’t be too happy.”

Together, they leave her bedroom, separating at the stairs so her mom can go check on Prim.

Downstairs, her dad is in the living room. He looks to her, warmth in his gaze.

“Give him hell, sweetheart,” he advises with a wink.

Katniss nods her head before going to the front door, opening it then stepping out.

Peeta is standing on the porch, hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“You left my birthday party,” he replies. Going to a corner of the porch, he reaches down and grabs a small white box. “I didn’t want to blow out all my candles without my best friend.”

“Oh.” Katniss tries to hide the sting of disappointment at the word ‘friend’ even though it’s attached to such a magnanimous title. So instead, she sits down on the steps and pats the spot next to her. “Alright then. Let’s blow out your candles.”

Peeta sits down, opening the box and revealing a single cupcake—chocolate with buttercream icing, her favorite—with a candle sticking up on top.

“Before I light this,” Peeta begins. “Why did you suddenly decide to wear makeup? I mean, it’s not something that I thought you were interested in—"

“Because you don’t see me as a girl, I get it,” she interrupts in frustration.

“No!” Peeta lets out a frustrated breath before turning to her. “I know you’re a girl…a lot of people know you’re a girl…a lot of guys, specifically.”

Katniss shakes her head. “No one ever looks at me—”

“Because I tell them not to! Because you’re not some piece of meat that they can ogle when you walk by with your hips swaying…” Even in the darkness, she can see his reddened cheeks. “…I’ve always seen you as a girl and I hate that other guys are starting to notice. Because…uh…I mean…I…um—”

She takes his hand, worried that he’ll start to heave. Knowing Peeta, he’s probably forgotten his inhaler at home.

“Take a breath and continue,” she says.

“Because I always thought of you as just mine,” he admits quietly. “Since that day in Kindergarten when you sang the Valley Song in front of the class. You were so brave. And I always thought that maybe you were singing for me…”

“I was.” Katniss’ mouth rises in a soft smile. “I’ve always been singing for you.”

Peeta’s own mouth bursts into a wide grin.

“Good—I mean, I’m happy that we are…and it was…just for me.” Anxiously, he runs a hand through his golden locks as he pulls out the lighter from his pocket. “Why don’t we just blow out the candle?”

“What about singing ‘Happy Birthday’?”

“Everyone already sang it, and it was ruined because you weren’t there,” he tells her. “So, it’s okay.”

“I’ll just sing another song.”

Katniss searches her head for the perfect tune. Suddenly, a song comes to mind.

Her mother once said that it reminded her of Katniss in some way. At the time, she laughed it off.

How could Vanessa Williams have any insight on the life of one Katniss Everdeen?

Now, as she sits face to face with Peeta, Katniss realizes that her mother understands her more than she realizes.

She looks to Peeta. “Don’t laugh, okay?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “I’d never laugh at a serenade.”

Katniss shakes her head in amusement before clearing her throat and singing out:

“Sometimes the snow comes down in June

Sometimes the sun goes 'round the moon

I see the passion in your eyes

Sometimes it's all a big surprise…”

She closes her eyes, realizing how much she relates to the lyrics and that maybe there are other people out there who wish for the kind of love that she wants from Peeta. The kind where your first love can become your last love.

Her mother always said that she was much too wise for her age.

Her eyes open to find Peeta in rapt attention, and their eyes meet, his own soft and filled with something that makes her ache.

“Sometimes the very thing you're lookin' for

Is the one thing you can't see…”

He is suddenly sitting much closer, so close that she can count every little freckle along his cheeks…every little eyelash…

Katniss swallows down her nervousness and continues her song.

“But now we're standing face to face

Isn't this world a crazy place?

Just when I thought our chance had passed

You go and save the best for last…”

There’s a moment of quiet and her hand covers his.

“Happy birthday, Peeta.” She takes the box in his grasp along with the lighter and lights the candle. “Make a wish.”

Peeta gives her a small smile before blowing out the candle.

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me what you wished for,” Katniss jokes.

He shakes his head. “I can show you.”

“How—”

Peeta suddenly cups her face between his hands and presses his lips to hers.

He tastes of sugar.

Her own hand reaches to the nape of his neck as she tilts her head to slot her lips closer to his.

It is everything Katniss could have ever hoped for in a first kiss.

Reluctantly, they pull apart, panting, and grinning.

“That’s what you wished for?”

Peeta nods, still breathless. “That and a chance to take you to the movies tomorrow night.”

“Alright,” she agrees immediately. “I think I know what I’m going to wish for my next birthday.”

Peeta puts an arm around her, pulling her to his side. “What?”

“For Peeta Mellark to be my boyfriend.”

He beams. “I think you’re going to get that before your birthday.”

++++++

“How long am I going to allow him to be out there?”

“Theo, stop peeking out,” his wife tells him. “It’s creepy.”

“Suze, they’re out there feeding each other cupcake pieces like newlyweds!” The man turns to his wife. “Why did you allow this? I thought I would have more time before fending off a boyfriend!”

“It was going to happen, anyway,” she replies easily. “Give them five more minutes.”

“And then I can turn the sprinklers on them?”

Suzie Everdeen shakes her head at her husband. He has conveniently forgotten that they had gotten together when they were around Katniss’ age.

And they never looked back.

For now, she’ll give him this one thing.

“Fine.” She kisses her husband’s cheek. “I’m going to bed.”

Less than five minutes later, Suzie hears the screams of the young couple as they are soaked by the new power sprinklers that Theo installed last week.

FIN.

Song: “Save The Best For Last”—Vanessa Williams

#19fundiesandcounting #teenage angst #teen!Everlark #Everlark #Everlark Fanfiction #Fic request

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mouse-fantoms · 4 years ago

Text

Late Night Ordeal

Read on Ao3!

I believe off the top of my head that @lydias--stiles and @blush-and-books have done some fics with this concept before so hahaha here’s my take. Julie and Luke comfort each other after nightmares

“No music is worth making Julie if we’re not making it with you, no regrets.”

The look of desperation and pain in his eyes and the swallow after his statement made the tears trickle even more.

Her body won over her mind. She lunged forward, open arms in a desperate hope to comfort him and herself. She stumbled forward, phasing right through him. Regaining her footing she could tell looking into his glossy hazel’s that he was thinking the same as she: This being an interesting little relationship they have.

The jolts shot up their sides as they fell over in pain made her remember the cruel reality of her life. She watched as Luke fell to his knees gripping his side.

“No! No!” She repeated. “Please just join his band! Please!”

“Hey,” he said to the girl on her hands and knees to be able to meet his eyes, “no regrets.” He gave a final smile. And then... gone.

“No regrets.” She saw Alex breath... then gone.

“No regrets.” Reggie repeated... then gone.

She shot up from bed with a trembling intake of air. The feeling of dread and reality overcame her. That night of the Orpheum replayed in her head over and over. She kept quiet about the nightmares, not wanting to worry any of them about her.

It always happened the same way. Everyday before she went to sleep she would replay that day over in her head. Remembering how her dad wasn’t able to find his wallet and seeing Reggie place it on the counter behind him. Alex and Luke bickering about the song they’d been rehearsing that day. Her and Luke during their song writing session. She didn’t know if he could tell the way she looked at him when he held the pen cap between his teeth. Flicking the pen back and forth on the table, trying to figure out a melody for the lyrics they wrote together. Maybe he hadn’t noticed how after the night of the Orpheum, they’d been spending more and more time in their song writing sessions. She absorbed all the time as she could while being terrified to go to sleep.

No matter how much she reminded herself that it didn’t happen, that she didn’t lose them that night. That they had a joyful, loving group hug, the nightmare always told her otherwise.

The look of fear and pain in their eyes were too vivid. The harsh reality of realization that they were ghosts and that they would someday leave always hit her in those moments. They did have unfinished business. Maybe they already did their business, maybe since they were a special case, maybe since she was a lifer who could see them, maybe it would take a few days for them to cross over... what ever that meant. Everyday was a ticking time bomb whenever she woke up. Excepting them to be gone based on her nightmare from the last night, but then being relieved once she saw them.

The reality of knowing that they wouldn’t always be around sunk in everytime. Like Flynn said, they would always be phantoms, she would lose them no matter what. It was a bomb that didn’t have a countdown.

When she was awoken by her terror in the night, she would be awake staring at her ceiling. Hoping that she would see them in the morning. There would be a time though where that wouldn’t be the case.

This night, she had to check. She needed to.

Exiting her room quietly, Julie went down the stairs and out the back door to the garage. When she slowly opened the garage door, a wave of relief washed over her when she saw her boys peacefully asleep on the couch piled together.

Alex was at the end, his head rested on his shoulder. That must leave a crick in the neck. Then Luke’s head rested on Alex’s open shoulder and finally Reggie’s head was laid on Luke’s lap.

Luke started to shake his head, nodding away a dream, then his eyes opened suddenly, panic and fear in them. Looking frantically around he quickly spotted the girl peaking in.

“Julie?” He asked in a relived whisper.

She ducked away, closing the door.

He went to get up, then realized the sleeping Reggie on his lap.

...well this was a predicament. By ghost law if there is a sleeping Reggie on you, you (under ANY circumstance) do not move. Though, Luke had to break the rules considering Julie was involved.

He cautiously got up. Pleased to see that his friend’s head slipped off his leg and onto the couch cushion with ease. He poofed to the outside of the garage, not intending to poof right in front of Julie but did. She was visibly startled.

“Stop that!” Her voice was stricter than normal when she said it.

“Sorry but-” he noticed her eyes, “...Julie why-”

She realized he saw the tears. Half from knowing that they were ok and here and half from replaying the terror in her head. She put her head down hoping that would make him suddenly forget what he saw.

“Nothing. It’s-”

“You coming out here in the middle of the night, crying, isn’t nothing.”

Julie shook her head, “Just,” she went around him to continue her way, “forget about it.”

Desperate to make her stay, desperate to make her not bottle up the emotions, desperate to help the clearly distressed girl, he caught her wrist, “Julie.”

She stopped feeling his cold hand grab her.

...his cold hand.

They stood speechless.

The band group hug seemed like such a dream. Ever since, no one seemed to test out if they could actually touch Julie now or if it was just a one time occurance.

As Luke looked to her for an answer, he suddenly felt an embrace. Not that he was complaining about getting a hug from her but she was holding him tight, making sure he wouldn’t phase through her grip. He of course returned it. Trying not to hug a crying Julie Molina was literally impossible. He could hear her sniffles and she dug her head into his neck.

“You’re warm.”

Her sniffles turned to a laugh. “You’re cold.”

“Sorry, not really my control.”

After what seemed like forever, she finally broke away.

“Mind telling what that was about?”

“I’ve been,” she whipped her nose on her sleeve to talk clearer, “having this reoccurring dream and I just wanted to make sure you guys were ok.”

“That was more than a ‘making sure you’re ok’ hug.” He wasn’t sure if he made the right choice by wanting to get a clearer answer.

“I’ve been having a nightmare of the night of the Orpheum,” her breath became shaky, “when you guys were in the garage. That you guys...”

“Hey,” he put his hands on her shoulders seeing her visibly shake from trying to recall the terror, “it’s okay. We’re okay.” He didn’t need her to go into detail, whatever happened had terrified her.

She looked down with tearful eyes shaking her head. “Don’t you think he’ll try something again? Do something worse than- than-” her mind raced with endless possibilities. There was this powerful ghost who was able to do whatever he wanted to hurt them.

His hand pulled her chin up to look at him which pulled her from her heavy breaths, “He hasn’t bothered us.”

“But what if he does! He could cause those jolts again! What if they don’t go away this time?! We don’t even know how they went away the first time! You guys could be-”

It was a different feeling having the hug came from him. His hold was even tighter than hers was before if that was even possible. His hand cradled the back of her curls, while his chin rested on the top of them.

“We’re not going anywhere.” He promised. “He can’t take that away. Ever. We won’t let him.”

Her shoulders dropped, hooking her arms around his shoulders and just buried her head into his chest.

The other way that Orpheum night could have gone, could haunt her all it wanted. But Luke and her hugging, Luke holding her in this very moment was a reminder of what actually happened that night. Sure there were tears but those had turned from fear to bliss. Being able to touch and actual feel each other’s company, to cradle their faces in each other’s grasp, to hold each other’s hands close, that happened. That actually happened.

Seemingly because of her he was able to become stronger from the jolts, they would be able to become stronger from the jolts. They never disappeared, time might have but her ghosts didn’t. She didn’t see them with pain in their eyes, she saw them with wonder and cheer knowing that that wouldn’t be their last moment with her. No one would be able to break them apart, if they were, they were going to have to try really really hard because they were never going to leave each other’s side. Not even a powerful ghost like Caleb Covington would be able to break them apart.

“Please don’t cry again.” He could hear her on his chest.

Her heard her laughter. “Different kind of tears.”

“Good because,” he released her from his grasp, which was hard, “sad tears do not look good on you Boss.”

There was a smile on her face from hearing the nickname as she wiped the glossiness from her eyes.

“...Everything alright now?”

She nodded. “...Yeah... thanks Luke.”

He did a light nod as a his response. He watched as she turned around and walked towards the house.

God, was that- ...that was an honor. Being able to comfort a crying Julie, not that he wanted to see a crying Julie ever, was an honor that it was his duty to take care of. He got to comfort her with a hug! A hug! Two of them! What a score. She had comforted him from his nightmare as well.

“Actually,” his attention was grabbed when she turned back around to him , “...would you..” she started to fidget with her bracelets, “...not that you need to but if you did it would-”

“You want me to come with you?”

“You don’t need to be there the whole time. Just so that-”

He smiled to her. “Sure.” And just like that he was gone in a second.

He was sat cross cross on the indent of her bay window when she entered.

“It’s fine to be in here right? Considering the ‘stay-out-of-my-room’ rule?”

She shut her door and sat on her bed.

“It’s different when I know I about it and specifically asked you to come.” She put herself under the covers.

“Well we were looking for the kitchen.” He clarified that day. “But we poofed into your room and got distracted by all your things. Then Reggie threw himself on your bed and there was no getting up after that.”

Her light laugh was her reply. Then she had a thought, “How come you woke up?”

“Hm?”

“You looked worried when you opened your eyes, looking around the room but then landed on me and-”

He dropped his head. “You weren’t the only one who had a nightmare.”

Instead of sitting up under her covers she turned on her right side, lowering herself more under the sheets and looked at him. In directly telling him that she wanted to hear more.

“You just came into the studio, we were ready to write.” The smile on his face couldn’t help but show knowing how he cherished those times. “I greeted you but you didn’t seem to hear me.” His mouth quickly fell. “You kept calling my name and looking for me but I kept saying I was right there. When I was right in front of you, you walked right through me. And then Alex and Reggie were holding their instruments and I was at the couch but they kept asking where I was because we were about to rehearse but they couldn’t see or hear me.” His voice became even shaker than it already was. “No matter how loud I screamed... none of you heard me. No matter if I stood right in front... none of you saw.”

“Luke...”

“It’s nothing like yours-”

“It’s still really scary... extremely.”

He nodded, “But when I saw you looking at me then ducked back because you could see me look at you... that’s a feeling unlike any other.”

It could have been seconds or eternity as the two smiled and looked at each other, cherishing every single millisecond of the other’s company.

“Why don’t you try going to bed? You have school tomorrow don’t you?”

“Did you still go even when you ran away?”

He traced a semi-circle in the air with his index finger suggesting her to roll over. “We can play 20 questions later. Go to sleep.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fiiiiiine.” Then rolled away from him. “Night Luke.”

“Goodnight Julie.”

She woke up a few mintues before her alarm went off. Opening her eyes to the ceiling and stretching her arms over her head, a yawn escaping her. Turning her body to take off the covers and start her day, she saw a lovely sight.

Luke was still sat at the shelf of her bay window. His head was leaned against the wall, peacefully asleep, his arms were crossed and his one leg was folding under his other. He was probably there the rest of the night since he was in a different position then what she remembered him in before she went to bed.

Of course he stayed in her room even after they said good night to one another. Of course he stayed. He was Luke after all.

She turned off her alarm just before it went off as to not wake up Luke. She let him continue his peaceful slumber as she went to get ready in the bathroom for school.

~~~

Luke didn’t complain when Julie came into the studio after dinner to continue their earlier song writing session. Conventily, Alex and Reggie seemed to disappear once they knew another song writing session was taking place. They sat on the couch beside one another brainstorming.

“Maybe it should…” a yawn escaped her, “...maybe it should-“

“Maybe you should start heading to your room.” He suggested as her drowsy eyes began to make her eyelids heavy.

“...after this part?”

A huffed laugh fell from his lips, “That’s what you said several parts ago.”

He noticed her silent response. “Is it that dream again? If you’re more comfortable in here then you have no protests from me.”

“...Alex or Reggie wouldn’t mind?”

“Are they here?” He gestured to the space around them.

She smiled. “Well it is my garage.”

“Technically,” he pointed his index finger up, correcting her, “it was ours first. But again no protests from me.”

“But I swear after this part.”

He went with what she said, hoping she didn’t entirely mean her promise. The more they were bouncing lyrics back and forth the more Luke noticed her half open eyes

“What do you think of-”

Her closed eyes and slowly nodding head let him know that she was started to fade into slumber.

“Mhm.” She tiredly nodded. “That…” her head found Luke’s shoulder a perfect pillow, “...sounds… good…” Within seconds after she was sound asleep.

He looked at the girl rested on his shoulder, relishing in this moment more than ever.

“Check again.”

“I just did!”

“Well maybe one of them-“

His attention was turned to the door hearing the voices outside, shout whispering to each other.

“Ok fine, I’ll check again. But I’m telling you-“ as his attention was to the door he saw Alex’s upper half phase through the door and peak in at them on the couch. “Ok yeah she’s asleep but I think our cover is blown.”

“Why do you say that?”

Alex grabbed the sleeve of Reggie’s jacket and pulled him through the door to see Luke clearly looking them.

“Oh…”

Luke summoned them to come inside with his index finger. Seeing as they were found out and there was no excuse out, the two defeatedly walked in with their heads hung low.

“Who’s idea?” He asked for an answer.

The two pointed to the other in unison.

“Uh huh…”

“We just wanted to see if she left yet to know if we were let back in yet.” Alex explained.

“We didn’t want to interrupt your guy’s process.” Reggie added.

“Well you’re going to have find other spot boys because I’m not moving.”

Reggie looked curious. “Isn’t that… uncomfortable?” He asked seeing Luke’s back not against the couch’s.

“And?”

“Couldn’t you just… lean a little bit back?”

“Alex, imagine if Willie fell asleep on your shoulder.”

“Ok yeah no he has a point Reg.” He redacted his earlier suggestion.

“Ooo!” The bassist raised his hand getting a thought. “Can I take Julie’s bed?”

“No you cannot take her bed!”

Suddenly all went quiet seeing the girl moving, hoping they hadn’t woken her up. Instead she nuzzled her head deeper into the ghost’s shoulder.

“You cannot take her bed!” Luke repeated except in a whisper shout this time.

“But it’s so comfy.”

“Her rule.” He pointed out.

“Since when have you cared about that?” Alex cut in. “Like the other day when we found you asleep by her window.”

“She invited me in, that’s different.”

“She did?” Reggie wondered. “In the middle of the night?” He thought that was the only possible way.

“She had a bad dream,” he started, “and came out in the middle of the night to check on us. She asked if I could come in to make her feel better.”

“That‘s why she’s out here again.” Alex put together from overhearing Luke mention a dream to her earlier.

“It must have really scared her.” Reggie couldn’t help but look at the asleep Julie on Luke’s shoulder. She was peaceful, sound asleep, no bad dream seemed to be insight.

Luke nodded. “I would be too.” It wasn’t his place to tell them what her dream entailed. All they needed to know was that Julie needed comfort and a ghost seemed to be that for her.

“Well I’m sure Alex and I can find someplace to crash so we’ll leave you two be.”

“Remember don’t move or you could wake her.”

He smiled at Alex’s words after they had both poofed away. He now understood the severity of the situation after he told him to imagine if it was Willie and him in Julie and his position.

Even if he woke up first in the morning he still would not move. If there’s either a sleeping Reggie or Julie on you, you by law cannot move. (Unless of course in the sleeping Reggie situation there was an upset Julie) Or in Alex’s case, if there was a sleeping Willie once again one, by law, cannot move.

As she was asleep soundly on his shoulder he soon would drift off too. Whatever awaited him could never compare to what already felt like one. Julie wanting him to stay by her side to comfort her was already a dream in and of itself and he never wanted to wake up.

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solynaceawrites · 4 years ago

Text

Subhuman

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Dante, fem!Reader Tags: Smut, PWP, Porn No Plot, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Masturbation, Monster Sex Rating: Explicit Summary: The first time you have sex with Dante after he returns from the underworld, you learn just what it means to be his mate. Note: This came about after an interesting conversation in a server about Dante’s dick when he’s using SDT. Specifically, how it’s shaped. It’s also my first true foray into what I would call monster-fucking fics, so, uh . . . I hope you enjoy?

»»————-　⚜　————-««

The first time you’d seen Dante’s Sin Devil Trigger, you’d been trying to haul Nero’s dumb ass out of Urizen’s throne room. Your first thought had been, what the fuck, followed quite quickly by, that’s a nice ass, and you’d done your best to shove both of those to the side, as being stuck in the middle of a demonic tree was not the best time to be ogling your lover. The second had been a glimpse from the distance as he dove into the underworld, just a streak of burning orange across the sky and into the ground. You’d been more than pissed that he’d left, especially without so much as a good-bye, and you’d made that known to Morrison when he gave you the deed to the Devil May Cry. “He better not come back,” you’d said irritably, “unless he wants me to shoot him.”

But Dante’s disappearance, particularly after seeing that new form of his, left you with a rather particular problem. You’d told him once that you loved all of him; that love had extended into your sex life, and it’d been becoming more frequent for the dick he fucked you with to be scaled instead of flesh, for the hands that dug into your hips to be tipped with claws fit to tear through steel. You didn’t have much of an interest in finding someone else to date—Dante had truly been one of a kind—and there were times when the nice, normal dildo you kept tucked away in your bedside table just didn’t cut the trick.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like them. They’d always worked fine whenever Dante had to take an overnight job. It was the fact that thinking about Dante led to you remembering his easy grin and the way he felt curled around you at night, making the pain of his being gone much more apparent. The easiest option was to think about his other form; that one hadn’t made you coffee, or kissed the top of your head in passing, or told you how much it loved you. The problem with that was it was a bit disorienting thinking about a demonic dick while using a human one. So, you’d found a website that hosted an . . . unusual assortment, and selected one you thought was probably the closest match to a cock you’d never gotten to see.

You’d gotten one you could actually use, since some of the sizes they offered were a bit much.

The day it arrived, you’d closed the shop and gone to the room you used to share with Dante. The dildo, a model with a name you forgot almost as soon as you read it, was mouthwatering. Thick and ribbed and the size of your forearm, with a girth you couldn’t fully fit your fingers around, and you’d been careful as you used it for the first time. A lot of lubrication and plenty of time to let your body adjust around each inch, and you’d been so full that you’d come as soon as the base brushed your mound.

It was a particular favorite after that. You had a rather extensive collection of toys, from vibrators to dildos to other assorted odds and ends, and any time you’d been missing Dante’s demon cock, you’d pulled it out. Sometimes, if you were particularly riled up, you’d use a vibrator against your clit, and those were the times when you were so shaky-legged afterwards that you needed a day to recover fully.

That’s not to say you didn’t just miss Dante, because you did. The best you slept was with one of his shirts clutched to your chest, and you’d always leave a few slices of pizza untouched whenever you ordered in case he showed up and was hungry. Of course, leave it to him to pick the worst timing to come back home: you, taking a well-deserved shower that you weren’t expecting to be interrupted by the devil hunter, and if he’d gotten smacked between the eyes with a shampoo bottle, he more than deserved it.

Two weeks short of a year since he’d left, Dante had been back. You’d yelled at him, cried more than you ever had before, and he absorbed it all, his grin turning to a sheepish smile and then outright guilt the longer you laid into him. Part of you felt bad for it. He’d probably been expecting something out of the movies, where you ran into his arms and kissed him senseless, like you had when you’d been reunited in the tree. But he hadn’t chosen to leave you behind then, and the hurt you felt not only at his leaving but at his sauntering back in had quashed that little protest. And when he’d tried to make it up to you the way he always did, you told him he could either keep his hands to himself or sleep on the couch.

Life hadn’t exactly gone back to normal in the following month—there was a lot to talk about, and you did, and he listened—but just having him back was a good enough start as far as you were concerned.

“Dante,” you call. When he doesn’t answer, you pull your head from the fridge, frowning at the empty seat behind his desk. You need his help deciding what to do for dinner and, unless he wants an anchovy-pickle-mayonnaise sandwich, the two of you are going to have to get something delivered. “Dante!”

“Bedroom!” he shouts back.

You take the climb the stairs and head into the bedroom, intending to ask him if he wants lo mein or pizza, only to freeze when you see him sitting on the bed, cradling that damned dildo in his palms. “Uh . . .?”

Dante grins at you, and you try not to flush under his heavy gaze. Sex has been off the table while the two of you work through the hurt his leaving caused, and, with him around, you’d taken to carrying the dildo into the bathroom with you whenever you needed some relief. You must have tossed it onto the bed after your afternoon shower, probably intending to put it up after you got dressed only to forget, and while you don’t think he’s angry, he certainly seems bemused. “Nice toy,” is all he says.

“Uh.”

“Color’s especially interesting. In fact, I’d say it looks pretty damn similar to mine.” He taps the rubber before dragging his finger along a prominent ridge. “Even this. I’d known you missed me this badly, I’d have bent you over the desk as soon as I walked in the door.”

“What do you mean, if you’d known?” Your voice is harsher than you intend from your mortification, and Dante blinks as you stalk forward to yank it from his hands. “Did you think I was having parties while you were in the underworld?” It’s not fair to say, and you know it’s not, but there’s a vicious satisfaction when he frowns. You toss the dildo onto the bed and fold your arms. “I missed you like hell. I’ve told you how hard those months without you were. So, if I wanted to buy a dildo that reminded me of your dick to help with that, it’s none of your business, and you can forget bending me over anything while you’re at it!”

He doesn’t argue, which helps your irritation a little. “Sorry, doll. It just caught me off guard. Though . . .” The way he tilts his head reminds you so much of a big dog that it’s ridiculous, especially with his shaggy hair. “You know you can have the real thing, right?”

“Maybe I like it better,” you retort.

You know the challenge you’re laying at his feet, and a thrill goes up your spine when his smile takes on a predatory edge as he stands. “Is that right? Maybe we should test it, just to be sure.” Dante peels his shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry at the sight of his chest, broad and covered with fine silver hairs. This was why you’d wanted to wait on sex for a while. The moment he lays on the charm, your anger goes right out of the window, which isn’t always the best thing when there’s an issue to solve. For now, though, you decide that it’s fine, and you lean against the wall and cock a brow. Come and get me.

There’s a flash of heat that has you wincing. When you open your eyes, it’s to see the horns and claws and fangs you’ve dreamed of since the first sighting in the tree, and you hold your breath as Dante prowls towards you, his claws ticking against the hardwood floor. He crowds you against the wall and peers down at you. Dante’s already a good head taller than you when he’s human; now, you have to crane your head back to look at his chin, and he kneels to be eye-level with you, his maw parting so his tongue can slide over your cheek. The rough surface of it has goosebumps breaking out along your arms as you think of what it’s going to feel like rubbing over your clit, and when it slides over your lips you part them to suck it into your mouth.

Dante growls, his breath fire-hot where it fans along your cheek. You almost don’t notice him cutting through your clothing until cold air caresses your skin; with a gasp, you draw back, and his hand grips your waist to pull you up so his face is level with your chest. “Pretty,” he rumbles, the sound thick and foreign and full of gravel, and you grasp at his horns when he curls that ridged tongue around your breast. The tip flicks your nipple, making you squirm from the prickles of pleasure it causes, and, with a laugh that’s ash and smoke, he rubs over it firmly.

And, gods above, you’re probably going to finish from that alone.

It’s heaven: rough and slick and warm, his saliva thick as it coats your flesh, making the friction so much silkier. You tug at his horns a futile attempt for more, though what more is, you don’t know. Not like he can do much else with his teeth the size of daggers, but his touch has awoken something greedy within you that clamors urgently for attention. When he shifts to give the same attention to your other breast, you nearly sob, and your nipples are peaked and stiff and tender by the time he’s through.

His hands cup your rear and lift you, yelping, so that your sex is in front of his mouth. The claws on his wings hook your wrists to pull your arms above your head as he braces your knees over his shoulders, and you can’t stop the whimper you let out when those teeth graze your mound. There’s a low rumbling from his chest as he breathes you in, and then you watch as his fangs part as his tongue slides between your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” you whine. “Dante . . .”

He licks you exactly how you like—his tongue thick and flat and rubbing firmly from your ass to your clit—but the texture is something else entirely, and you’d be rocking desperately against him if he weren’t holding you still. He slips it within your weeping sex, and you nearly scream when it folds on itself so he can lash the tip against your quivering pearl; it hadn’t seem so long at first, but now you understand why he’s got difficulty talking in this form. Not that you care if he speaks or not. As long as he keeps fucking you like he is, he can stay quiet. Every time his tongue flexes within you, you keen, and his answering pants send heated air along your labia and thighs, only heightening the pleasure that you’re already drowning in. You come in no time at all, but he doesn’t stop. Dante keeps right on working your body until a second orgasm follows hard and fast on the heels of the first, leaving your back bowing as you cry out his name.

Your legs are too weak by the time it fades for you to stand. Dante carries you easily over to the bed, lowering you back down so your head doesn’t smack into the fan, nuzzling your stomach and crooning sweetly against your skin. You don’t know what he’s doing, but something about the sound relaxes you so you’re limp when he deposits you on the mattress. Then you catch sight of his cock, and you lift yourself into a sitting position, your eyes wide.

The damn thing is huge. Dante already is, but this form of his adds length and girth, and it glows the same fiery orange as his eyes and the cracks in his armor. The top of it is covered with darker plates that taper off as they wrap around the vibrant underside, and those plates are covered with tiny, ridged bumps; the shaft of it flares twice, thickening in the middle, and the flared tip that you remember has some sort of swirl that narrows it at the slit and has it widening into protrusions where it meets the shaft. At the base you can see what you assume are his balls, held tight to the shaft, and there’s a small part where it meets his pelvis that looks perfect for stimulating your clit. You think, is that even going to fit? Then, I’ll make it fit.

There’s fluid dripping from the tip that you have the most insane urge to taste. It’s thick, a bit darker than normal, and you lean forward to drag your tongue over the slit. Dante hisses a warped version of your name as you lap at the head, gathering as much of the precum as you can before swallowing. It tastes sharp and rich, with a faintly spiced undertone, and it leaves a tingling trail from your lips down to your stomach. You’re not entirely sure, but you’re pretty certain that it’s an aphrodisiac of some kind, maybe meant to either get his partner in the mood or make it easier for him to get that monster between his legs inside of them. Or both.

Either way, you’re going to combust if he doesn’t fuck you soon.

But how to make it work? Humming, you shift onto your hands and knees, but it still doesn’t quite line up right. “Dante, I think—hey!”

The bed creaks warningly as he settles between your legs. His thighs press you nearly wider than is comfortable, and the heat of his body blasts against your back when he leans over you, one of his clawed hands bracing next to your own. You study the armor plating at his wrist for a moment, but the feeling of his head nudging insistently at your opening has you digging your fingers into the quilt, a breathless, “Please,” falling from your lips.

Slowly, he pushes it within your opening. Your mouth hangs open in a groan as it stretches you; there’s no pain, just the same tingling you’d felt when you swallowed his precum, and you realize that your assumption was right. Still, as he carefully thrusts deeper, you’re not sure how much of it you’re going to be able to take, a thought that’s reinforced when the head of him is fully inside and your walls squeeze around it. He’s barely gotten started and you feel fuller than you ever had in your life, and when he presses forward so your lips open around the first flare of his shaft, you cry out, your legs trembling. The second flare sliding leisurely into your sex has you coming for the third time, all of this little ridges you’d noticed and the ribbing along the sides more than enough to have your head spinning. By the time his hips are flush to your rear and his sac is nestled snugly against your clit, you’re boneless in his grasp, and you understand, through the haze, one very clear fact.

Dante is going to ruin you.

He moves slowly, carefully, letting you adjust to his size as he pants hotly against your shoulder, and you mewl every time he rocks his hips. You’re honestly not certain how much more you can handle; each tentative thrust has those flares and ridges stretching your cunt, presses the head of him against something within you that adds a faint dash of pain to the overwhelming pleasure. His teeth prick your skin and you gasp, scrabbling for purchase against the sheets as his hips pick up the pace until you’re rocking over the mattress, rocked forward by every powerful roll of his hips. The sound of his body driving into yours fills the room along with your desperate cries, and all of it only seems to spur him on. The heat radiating from him ramps up as his claws tear through the quilt, and his fangs become better acquainted with your shoulders and the back of your neck, each mark he leaves drawing a moan from your throat.

Dante reaches beneath you to cup your stomach, keeping you lifted as he fucks you senseless. He growls something that sounds like, “Mine,” when he presses you up, and you nearly scream at the new angle, the new depth. Forget tomorrow or the next day, you’re going to need at least a week before you can go out in the field again.

“Dante,” you whimper, “Dante, baby, please—”

He grunts and draws out, leaving you breathless. Then he takes hold of your hips and flips you onto your back before sheathing himself within you again, and this time you do scream as that protrusion you’d noticed earlier bears down on your clit as he fills you. Every time he moves, it presses and grinds against your pearl, lending a desperate edge to the coil tightening in your stomach. Dimly you’re aware of his face drawing closer, and you don’t hesitate to open your mouth when his tongue nudges at your lips, sucking on his flesh eagerly. You’re close, so close, and when he thrusts roughly enough to nearly knock you into the headboard as his tongue grazes the back of your throat, you fall apart, consumed by him.

Wave upon wave of bliss wracks your body, which bows under and squeezes around his. And he doesn’t let up, rutting into you with growls and rasping groans that have your blood on fire until you’re dizzy and light-headed and your ears ring from the force of it all. You don’t know how much longer he works his body within yours, teetering on the brink of blackness, but you feel his tongue leave your mouth so he can sink his teeth into the flesh where your shoulder meets your neck, and the pain of that is blurred and diluted by the pleasure that comes when the first scorching wave of his seed fills you. On and on he comes, so that it smears along your thighs and pools on the sheets beneath you, so that you wonder if it’s ever going to end.

But end it does. With a lick over the wound he’s left, he draws out, and there’s a faint noise as he does so. More of his seed flows out, still hot enough to nearly be scalding, and you whine at the sensation of being so full and yet so empty at the same time. The sound of his footfalls shifts as he crosses the room from talons to bare feet; when he returns, he’s human again, and he kisses you gently as he lifts you from the bed. “Sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs. “It’s been so long, and I . . . Well. Guess I made a mess, huh?”

“A good one,” you mumble.

Dante chuckles and sets you down in the bathroom, and you watch sleepily as he fills a tub with warm water and your favorite bath foam. “You relax. I’m gonna go change the sheets.”

You nod, and he helps you into the bath, where you sink into the warmth with a groan. There’s a dull ache already forming between your thighs, and your shoulder is going to hurt like hell tomorrow if you don’t do something about it, but you’re far too tired right now to work even the simplest of healing spells. Besides, you think, he’d left that there as a reminder of his love for you, so you’re not exactly complaining. Dante comes back right as the water is getting cool enough that you want to get out, and he dries you off with a fluffy towel before once more picking you up and carrying you back into the bedroom.

You’re half-asleep by the time your head hits the pillows, though you manage to hold on long enough for him to turn off the lights and join you, his weight warm and familiar at your back. “Dante?”

“Hm?”

“Welcome home.”

He pauses, his arm tightening around your waist as he buries his face in your hair. “I’m back, sweetheart. And I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

#dmc #devil may cry #dante sparda #dante/reader #dante x reader #dmc fanfic #dmc fanfiction #writing #oneshot #myfic #subhuman

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

Note

HI! Quick note: write this whenever you want and be sure to take care of your health first! Your works are amazing and masterpieces take time, I can be patient <3 Hope you have a lovely day! (also, 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: trigger themes like attempts of suicide, probable hints to dissociative amnesia? I was inspired by it at least and some... Limb being bitten off as well as latest archon quest spoilers so readers be cautious!)

Anyway, I'd like to request for Xiao, Albedo, Zhongli, Kaeya and Diluc (if the number is too much you can cut off whoever from the list) with Traveller! s/o that like has no memory of their past but have clues through these... "Visions/Dreams".

It started out a little simple; every once in a while, Y/N would see these little figures floating around their environment. Shadowy wisps, sometimes ghosts talking to them. But in real life, people can't see them and only sees them talking by themselves (and some are a little weirded out). But then one day, while they were out adventuring in the ruins slimes or seelies... Whatever small cute creatures can exist in Teyvat suddenly gathered in Stormterror's lair and they grew curious cuz they heard... Music? Playing? It was echo-y and creepy but then they heard a very familiar tune that they KNOW is linked to their past so they followed and went into the vicinity

(As reference, or for some idea: https://youtu.be/JZ6buLNIgs8)

The moment they stepped inside and pinpointed where the music is coming from they bolted up the stairs (if there are any, which probs not but in reader's case there is) and suddenly the stairs lead them to a hallway from a tower/palace, and walking further, there were two huge doors that lead to a ballroom with more than dozens of ghosts waltzing and singing with the music

(No they did not question why would stormterror's lair have a hallway or how it even has a ballroom inside, nor why creatures would gather in said lair. Questions that break away from dreams are nonexistent)

So obviously they were happy at the wondrous sight and began waltzing along with everyone from strangers to... Unrecognizable but familiar faces? Until They danced with this boy their age. The more they looked the more they were enamored and the world around them was but a hazy dream (as vague and hazy the environment in their head can get) but the boy became more and more vivid and so did the music until they practically sang together. But then as the music stopped and s/o turned their back for a second; the boy sang: "And a song someone sings..." And wisps suddenly flew out of him and towards Reader, making them fall unconscious into their arms as the Prince of the Abyss sang in their ear. "Once upon a december..." Before Aether disappeared and he was but a dream.

And then all of a sudden Reader was yanked away from their dream; almost literally. They turned to see their lover holding onto their arm with concern all over their face and explained to them they were so close to the edge dancing away they could've fallen off of the third floor (which was already high!).

And that's when things get a turn to the worse.

Every dream gets worse than the last; anything that involved the abyss, or seeing these star pendants like what Paimon has on her hair or Kaeya's little decor on his clothes or involving Khaenriah or whatever Albedo's research is rn lure them into a dream vivid than the last and it gets even harder and harder to break them off their dreams. One night of going to bed they suddenly had a dream of their old family/friends swimming in the ocean and telling them to join them, and they wouldve if their lover didnt sweep them off their feet and broke away from another dream they didnt realize was 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 a dream. And the realization that if they jumped off, their bones wouldve broken cuz a bunch of boulders and rocks on a steep cliff would make a nice floor for landing right?

But still, Aether and the abyss (which in their dreams were ghosts and just... this blond guy you knew but never realized it was your brother and the abyss) are recurring themes. Coming across any of the factors instantly puts them in a dream and reader cant tell whats reality and what isnt. Everything is too vivid they didnt see a bubble coming their way or an attack coming towards them and they were about to be thrown off. It got to the point Reader was getting claustrophic from the rooms suddenly shrinking as they were cornered by these ghosts that turned frightening and whenever they fight back they end up nearly murdering someone of mindlessly attempting to destroy one of The Seven statues.

It lead Reader to be.. Kinda suicidal. Not just because they hate themselves and their situation its cuz its the 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑦 they knew how to escape the dream and wake up in a bed in their lovers arms. And because reader cant distinguish reality from dreams sometimes even if their lover is present they see these ghosts and think 'this must be a dream I have to wake up from!' cuz in the long run theyve learned fighting back meant hurting someone so they.. Redirected the pain to themselves so theyre very confused to see their lover throw their dagger across the room and they end up breaking down no matter where they are (or in worse cases in the middle of battle). Reader grew dependant on them and panic attacks after these dreams became more frequent until they cant even trust their surroundings whether its a dream or not.

(I'm very sorry with how long this is and I rambled in grotesque detail you may polish it however you want :"DD)

This can be in any format you'd like! But I mostly prefer headcanons + scenarios? like the bullets then comes scenario etc. But ye write however you want sorry for rambling hope you have a nice day thank you

As a Romanov history enthusiast this request was both very interesting and very difficult. Mostly because I found myself veering off into “lore dumping” for lack of a better term. Still I hope the general feeling of your request was captured well.

I spread various aspects of your request around as best I could, depending on character, outline, fic structure, etc. The only thing I didn’t keep in was the suicidal ideation. This is for various reasons, some personal, but in a more general term I think that it can be very difficult to portray something like that in a way that isn’t excessively triggering and is worthwhile to read for a variety of people. The way one person would process through such emotions and put them to paper could be harmful to another. Overall I thought it best to steer clear from such a topic, with the knowledge that I didn’t find it necessary to the story and thought it would be an imperfect addition on my part. Not that I find never addressing such topics necessarily the right path either, only I think that in this case better not to. I hope I explained why adequately.

I know that wanting to read and write about such topics does not directly correlate to being in such a mental state but I do hope you also take care of your own mental health. Though getting out of such crises can be difficult I want to tell you this at least. You aren’t alone in feeling this way, even if others in your direct vicinity cannot understand. And also sometimes finding a direct reason for continuing on comes later. Sometimes surviving is enough. And even if you cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel, that doesn’t mean you should take a step which you will never be able to reverse, the only step you will never be able to reverse in your existence.

I also leaned into the Romanov family dynamic, rather into that of the traveler siblings. Whether the reader is the traveler is kept vague on purpose, as I generally as a rule don’t write the siblings. I also found that in keeping them specifically canon compliant to the traveler siblings I’d have to cut back on the more historical illusions. Being a total history nerd I chose the latter option.

Otherwise my fics varied in complete accuracy to the prompt, though I hope you find it enjoyable to read nonetheless.

Here they are in order of Albedo, Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Zhongli. I hope you find them a worthwhile read and thank you for your request. I hope you have a lovely week.

#suicide mention #dissociative amnesia #asks #aliarosella #requests

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sluttyten · 5 years ago

Text

sweet like honey

summary: the day you meet johnny suh and park seonghwa is the day your dreams become reality. fucking two super hot idols? who would say no to that. but the catch is that neither of them know about the other until the secret comes out, and the following competition is one that you never want to miss out on.

words: 13,338

tags: fuckbuddies, kinda dom/sub, possession kink, choking, spanking, kitty/daddy kink, oral (female and male receiving), threesome, jealousy, lots of smut, maybe a tiny bit of angst?, idk there’s some aftercare in there if you squint

pairing: johnny x reader, seonghwa x reader, johnny x reader x seonghwa

When you got the opportunity to work closely with idols, this dream had clung insistently to you: meeting and falling in love with one of the dozens of gorgeous idols you were given contact with. At first, it hadn’t seemed likely. Not that the idols you worked with weren’t attractive or anything like that, but they were always busy, distracted, and focused. They didn’t have time to fall in love with you.

And then you met Johnny.

NCT was massive and you were the lucky (or possibly unlucky depending on how things swung) staff member who would be taking care of the needs of not only NCT but several other groups who had their dressing rooms in that cluster. You had NCT, Ateez, Stray Kids.

They had their own staffs, their managers and stuff, but you worked for the broadcast company and it was your responsibility to make sure that they were actually supposed to be where they were supposed to be at the right time in a good mood ready to go, all mic-ed up and everything.

And Johnny was something else. From the moment you walked through the door he caught your eye. He smiled and laughed, a larger than life personality, and as you were talking with them, going over some basic things, he was staring at you with such an intensity that you were almost uncomfortable, but also fairly turned on as well.

The look in his eyes was something like hunger, like he could devour you whole, ravish you, ruin you.

You fled the room as soon as possible, feeling very warm, possibly a little sweaty. Your head spun and you pushed into the dressing room next door to give the same talk on basic things as you’d just done.

Immediately you collide with Ateez’s Seonghwa.

“Oh, are you okay?” He asks, catching you by the elbows as you bounce back off his chest.

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” You straighten the headset you’re wearing just as someone begins speaking in a low buzzing voice for all of the staff to hear. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Seonghwa looks down at you, his eyes gentle on you, taking note of your flushed cheeks. His thumb almost absentmindedly strokes your elbow and your knees feel a little weak from that minimal touch.

He looks at you as if you’re the first girl he’s seen in a while. His gaze drops to your lips, and you have to snap yourself out of it before you let him draw you into doing something you’ll regret, his magnetism too strong for you to deny when he’s touching your arm and looking at you like that.

You look away and see that a few of the group’s staff members are looking at you and Seonghwa, so you pull away and move over to make your announcement.

Luckily, dealing with the other few groups you’ve got isn’t as difficult. There are no attractive members muddling your mind with their eyes or touch.

Things run smoothly that day and you think that’s that. You survived the day and now you’ve even got a little bit of something to feed your fantasies. You think you’ll be clear of dealing with them again, of having your mind fucked like that.

Just as you’re about to leave for the day, hanging up your headset and grabbing your bag, another member of the staff walks in.

“You heading home?” He asks, dropping off his headset as well. Then he looks toward the door, glances around, and looks back at you, and quickly whispers, “Earlier one of the idols gave me his info.”

“Oh, really? That’ll be fun!” You smile, thinking it’ll be nice for him to find a guy. He’s told you before that he’s rather picky about guys plus he’s not comfortable going out to places that are specifically gay. If he’s met a gay idol who’s interested in him, you’re excited for him.

He frowns for a moment, and then says, “No, not for me. No, he said he wanted you to have it. I told him it’s against the rules, but he just gave it to me in case you’d want it.”

He passes a little slip of paper over to you, folded up small. You look down at it, then back up at him. The doorway is still empty, everywhere around you still quiet, so you risk asking, “Whose is it?”

“NCT’s Johnny.” He bites his lip around a smile. “If he wants you, then you’d better go for it. Have you seen him? If I were you I wouldn’t miss out on that opportunity when it comes knocking.”

You know he’s right. Johnny had you feeling like a hot mess earlier when he was looking at you like that, and honestly you would love to have a fun fling with an idol as hot as Johnny. So you pocket the little slip of paper, tug on your coat and grab your bag, thank your coworker and tell him goodbye.

You’re so lost in your thoughts as you walk down the hallway toward the stairs, that you don’t pay attention as one of the dressing room doors opens and a figure starts to step out.

For the second time that day, you collide with someone.

For the second time that day, you collide with Seonghwa.

His arms fully wrap around you now, keeping you from crashing onto the floor.

“We meet again.” He smiles. “Sorry, I should’ve been paying more attention, but I was trying to hurry.”

“Shouldn’t you be gone by now?” You ask him, possibly a bit unkindly.

He blinks. “Yeah, I forgot my phone though, so I came back. My manager is waiting in the van downstairs, so I was trying to hurry.” He helps you back firmly to your feet. “Sorry about running into you again. We need to stop meeting like this. Maybe next time we should plan to meet instead of just literally running into each other?”

He takes your hand and produces a pen from somewhere. The tip of it tickles against your skin as he writes on your hand, inking his info onto your skin, his breath a gentle warmth on your fingers.

You look at the side of his face and wonder if maybe you’d somehow fallen into an alternate universe. Months and months of doing this job and you’d never had an idol look twice at you, but today you’ve had not only one idol give you some of his private information, but two idols have given you the means to contact them.

“Message me sometime,” Seonghwa says with a wink.

And then he’s gone, jogging down the hallway to rejoin his manager in the van.

Later that night, once you’ve gotten home and showered and tucked yourself into bed, you stare at your palm and the piece of paper, your phone unlocked in your lap.

Maybe it’s wrong to do this, but you enter in both of their information, message them both. It’s not like anything that happens with either of them will be really serious, right? They’re both busy idols, they don’t have time for real romantic lives, just for the occasional hookups, and that’s something you can do.

Sex. No strings attached. Totally non-exclusive to each other.

You meet up with Johnny first. It’s only fair. He made his move first, messaged you back first, made it obvious that he wants you.

“Can you meet me now?” He messages you one day.

It’s mid-morning. Normally you would be at work. You would think he’d be busy working or sleeping right now too. But you’re off work today, and you’ve got no plans because it’s a chilly autumn morning that made you not even hardly want to leave bed.

“Where?”

He sends you a location, and you only wait long enough to shower quickly and put on something nicer before you’re on your way.

Over the past few weeks since you first met him, you’ve been messaging almost every day. He made it obvious quickly that he was just looking for sex, and you accepted that just as quickly. Since then, you’d been talking about history, experience, likes and dislikes, kinks. There’d been plenty of dirty talk from him, featuring a sexy pic or two from you (he was hesitant to send nudes for obvious reasons, but had sent you a couple of selfies and even audio clips).

So going to meet him, you were ready for it.

You find it hard to believe that he actually invited you over to his dorm to fuck, but the building you arrive at definitely looks like an apartment building, and when you text him that you’ve arrived at the building, he sends you a floor and apartment number.

It’s then that you start to feel shy, to feel a bit nervous.

But when you arrive at the door, rap your knuckles against it, it is Johnny who stands there when the door swings open.

“Hi,” He grins slowly, leaning against the door as he holds it open. “Come in.”

You can tell as soon as you step inside that this is definitely the dorm he shares with the other members. It just seems clean but still slightly messy. Definitely has the feel of young men inhabiting it.

Johnny closes the door and explains, “Everyone’s gone today, and I figured if you weren’t busy, now would be the ideal time for us to make those messages come true.” He touches your waist and you turn to look up at him. Johnny still looks at you with such a hungry intensity. “I’ve been dying to touch you since I saw you blushing in that waiting room.”

Heat zips up your spine when he pulls you closer. Johnny leans in.

You let your bag slide from your shoulder, your coat slipping off in the same move, and you raise your hands to his shoulders just as Johnny’s hands move down to your thighs. He lifts you up, your arms circle his neck and your legs tighten around his hips, his hands firmly under your ass.

“Can I kiss you?” Johnny asks, his breath already on your lips. His eyelashes draw such fine, long lines down his cheeks, and you’re close enough to count every last one.

You nod.

Johnny kisses sweet and softly, warmly and welcoming.

He moves, sits you on the edge of the sofa’s back. His fingers fall to your clothes, unzipping or unbuttoning whatever needs to be undone. Your shirt falls apart, leaving you in only a bra. Johnny groans and wraps his arm around your waist, pulls you tighter as he kisses you deeper.

You can feel him growing hard against your thigh, and when you drop a hand down to run over his stomach, he jerks. You nip at his bottom lip, drag your fingers against the edge of his pants, pop undone the button and then dip your hand inside.

He’s just as big as you wanted to believe, hard and thick.

Johnny had told you a few days before that it had been a while since he was able to do this. Months if not nearly a year since the last time he was able to have sex with someone.

Still, you don’t expect him to moan and buck into your touch. His hand on your back slips and you slide back a bit, almost falling away from him until his arm tightens again.

“Johnny,” you murmur, “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to just fuck. I’ve been wet since the moment you messaged me.”

You take his free hand and pull it down between your thighs, guide him to touch you through your panties, to feel how wet and needy you already are for him.

“Okay, fuck.” Johnny backs off, pulling you with him until your feet are firm on the ground again. “Get on the sofa. I’m gonna grab a condom, don’t go anywhere.”

“As if I would.” You call as he moves quickly out of the room, disappearing down a hallway.

You move around onto the sofa, strip your pants off and fling your shirt to the side as well, so you’re just lying there in the cute lingerie you’d chosen. Just as you’re about to call his name and tell him to hurry, you hear your phone chime from the pocket of your pants, so you dig it out and look at the notification.

From Seonghwa: are you free tomorrow night? I don’t have any schedules, I was hoping we could run into each other?

To Seonghwa: Tell me where and when. I’ll be there ;)

You tuck your phone back into your pocket and lie back on the sofa, the cool air of the dorm pricking against your skin, your nipples peaking up the thin fabric of your bra.

You stare up at the ceiling, at the light dancing there, and you wonder about how you’re about to fuck Johnny, how you’re going to see Seonghwa tomorrow night hopefully to do the same. You wonder how it would be if Seonghwa was here now instead of just messaging you, would he touch you while you wait for Johnny, or would he sit there and watch you now and watch what’s about to happen?

Just imagining Seonghwa seeing you with Johnny, his handsome features set in focus at Johnny’s hands on your body, noticing the fine curves and the cling of your lingerie to your breasts before Johnny comes to peel it off you.

You feel flushed with heat, your hands drift to your chest and you can’t help touching, pinching and rolling a nipple between your fingers.

That’s when Johnny reenters the room, stripped down to his boxers, an unopened condom in his one hand, the other hand on his cock.

“Don’t keep me waiting,” You beg him. You part your legs, Johnny quickly fills the space between them, falling over you until his lips can drag along the line of your throat, down between your breasts, to your navel and then the edge of your panties.

You want so badly for him to take them between his teeth and drag them off of you that way, to cover your pussy with his mouth and bring you to an orgasm on his tongue. But you feel his fingers fumble against your ass and then they’re wrapped around the waistband, tearing them down your legs and off.

You arch up into his touch, wanting him, and Johnny hushes you when you whine, and you watch as he pushes his boxers down and rolls the condom down his length.

He teases. Presses close enough to let you feel him, he moves his tip against your clit, down over your opening, and back up. You whine and buck up, and Johnny just grins and places a hand on your hip, holding you down.

“Fuck me,” You beg him. “Don’t you want to feel how warm and wet and tight I am for you, Johnny? All for you, please.” You reach up, scratch your nails lightly down his chest. “I need you inside me. You’re so big, you’ll make me feel so full, you’ll fuck me so good, Johnny.”

“You sound like a whore.” He groans and at long last he pushes inside you.

The feel is incredible. The stretch, a slight burn as it’s been a little while since you had someone who was quite as big as him. You let out a squeal, squeeze your legs up against his hips, reach for his shoulders.

“My little whore, right?” He pulls back just a bit so he can thrust in harder, deeper. “All mine?”

You bite your lip and whine.

Johnny puts a hand to your chin as your eyes start to slide away from his, he squeezes and makes you look up at him, and the dominance in something as simple as that touch sends a hot burst of heat through your gut. You clench around him.

His gaze burns with that intensity, the hunger. The possessiveness. You want to be consumed by him, enveloped in the pleasure you know he can give you.

“Johnny,” You moan, dig your fingernails into the back of his neck, attempt to bring his mouth down to yours. He resists, his eyes sweeping from yours to your lips, down to your chest, and then even lower to glimpse where he disappears inside you, as deep as he can go. You let out a low moan, “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“This pussy belongs to me.” Johnny says, snapping his hips forward. “You’re all mine. Just mine.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, bite your lip. You don’t let the truth show through, can’t let him see just in case he’ll stop fucking you if he learns this isn’t an exclusive thing.

Again, the thought of Seonghwa comes back. You picture him sitting across the room in a chair, his ankle crossed over his thigh, arms folded as he watches Johnny lay his claim to you, watches you taking Johnny’s cock while you moan like his whore.

When Johnny’s lips crush against yours, you groan and your eyes open. You move your fingers into his hair, knotting there as he rocks into you, moaning into the kiss. His cock hits deep inside you, filling you every place.

Johnny pulls away for a second, his breath panting against your lips, and for another moment his eyes lock on yours. He holds himself up on one elbow, the other hand he snakes down between your bodies, and he watches you closely when his fingers finally give your clit some attention.

He savors the way you whimper and hiss, squirm for him as he rolls his hips and stimulates that little sweet bundle of nerves.

“You’re so cute, so pretty, baby.” Johnny kisses you once gently. “I want you to cum for me, and I want to hear you moan my name when you do.”

“Johnny,” You moan, grabbing for his wrist between your bodies. That doesn’t make him slow down, and you feel yourself racing toward your orgasms though you want to hold off. “Johnny,” you whine.

That knot in your belly grows tighter, his fingers on your clit, his cock filling you so well inside.

You roll your head back, arching against him as shivers begin to wrack your body, and you can’t help the sweet, low moan of his name that pours from your lips. Your orgasm spills through you, squeezing and squirting around his cock, sending him into his own orgasm. Johnny pushes in deep, his hips jolting as he groans and fills the condom.

He sinks over you, holding himself up from crushing you with one arm, and when you nudge your chin forward, Johnny kisses you again, long and slow and sweet once again.

He pulls out after a moment, leaving you feeling empty and needy, so you wrap your arms around his waist and tug, whine at him, “Don’t leave yet.”

Johnny leaves only long enough to tie off the condom and bury it in the garbage bin in the kitchen, then he’s back, wrapping himself around you for a cuddle.

“Was that good?” He asks. You only have the energy to nod. “For me too. Sorry about the whole possessive bit, I know we’ve not talked about that or anything, but I’m definitely into that. Monogamy, I guess.”

You twist slightly and hide your face from him. He doesn’t have to know, you tell yourself.

Seonghwa told you to meet him at his company building. “Wait outside for me. Around back.” His voice sounded tired, but when you suggested that, he denied it.

So there you stood, waiting for him around the back, your arms wrapped around you in the chilly air. You wish you could wait inside or at least in the front of the building where the wind wasn’t hitting so bad, but once you’d arrived you understood why he told you to wait in the back. There was plenty of foot traffic, fans waiting out front.

“The meeting is almost over and then I’ll be right out.” He texted.

You leaned back against the wall, wondering where this was going. You knew that he wasn’t likely to take you back to his dorm. His members were all going to be present unlike Johnny’s. You wondered if he was going to suggest going back to yours (a possibility) or maybe a hotel or something.

When the back door of the building opens, Seonghwa steps out. When he spots you, he grins and holds his hand out, glances back over his shoulder once, then tells you, “Come here.”

You do.

“What are you doing?” You ask as he takes your hand and guides you inside. “Aren’t we going somewhere?”

“Just come with me, sweetheart. I’m trying to get you home with me without anyone paying too much attention.” His fingers lace through yours as he brings you deeper inside the building.

You look around, a bit nervous and even more confused. “What are you going to do? Stuff me in your bag? No offense, but I don’t think I’ll fit and we’ll definitely be caught.” You tug on his hand and Seonghwa turns around. “I thought when you asked me to meet you here, we’d be going somewhere.”

“Like on a date?” Seonghwa asks, lowering his voice as a woman walks out of a room nearby. “Sweetheart, I thought you didn’t want this to be more than sex. You made it sound like that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You look down at your feet. “But I’m hungry and thought we could at least grab a bite or something before we do whatever we’re going to do.”

Seonghwa’s fingers slip under your chin, tilting your face up toward him, and his thumb glides over your bottom lip. “Kitten, if you’re hungry I’ve got something that can fill you right up.”

Your mouth falls open slightly, and Seonghwa takes that moment to dip the tip of his thumb inside. Your legs feel weak, your insides liquefy, and you would happily jump on his dick right there in that open hallway, but he pulls away, shoves his hands into his pockets, and smiles the sweetest smile as another woman comes out of that room nearby.

As soon as she vanishes, he takes your hand again.

“You’re coming with me. To the dorm. Half of the guys are going straight from here to the studio.” He reaches for your cheek, brushes his fingers sweetly over the heat of your blush. “San’s going to fuck his girl too, lucky for him she lives in the same building. Mingi and Yunho are going out somewhere. It’ll just be you and me for a while.”

Seonghwa guides you through the halls of the building until you’re just out of sight of the lobby. He reaches into the bag on his shoulder, pulls out a black hoodie, and hands it to you. “Put it on. Tug the hood up. When we leave, get in the front seat with my manager.”

You do as he says, though you’re sure you’re going to look a bit suspicious walking along with the group, with a hood pulled up as if you’re trying to hide your face.

When the other members as well as a few staff members join the pair of you a moment later, you understand. A few of the guys, and some of the staff as well, are wearing matching hoodies to the one Seonghwa had just handed you, a few of them with their hoods up as well. You’ll blend in perfectly.

The few fans gathered outside start snapping pics the moment that the boys become visible and you hide yourself among the cluster of members and staff moving toward the exit, moving toward the van waiting outside.

You don’t understand why there are fans waiting outside even here, but you assume that they’re the stalker fans you’ve heard about. The ones that follow idols everywhere, know everything about them, to a severely creepy extent.

You listen to Seonghwa’s instructions, following him to the van that he and three of the other members are getting in, and as you reach it, you open the front passenger door and slide inside. Their manager in the driver’s seat glances over at you in alarm, but Seonghwa pops his head between the front seats.

“She’s with me, hyung. Don’t mind her.”

The manager scowls, and looks as if he’s about to berate Seonghwa, but then he thinks better of it and settles for shaking his head and staring forward.

The ride from there to the dorm is quiet. You watch the city lights pass by outside the car windows, and you stay quiet when the guys start a livestream in the back, putting on their best faces for their Atinys, keeping them updated and entertained, though they bring the live to an end when they near the dorm.

Just as Seonghwa had told you, Mingi and Yunho disappear almost as soon as the manager’s put the van in park. They’re out and gone. San vanishes a moment later, walking away on his phone. The manager shakes his head and pulls out a cigarette, leans against the side of the van, and tells Seonghwa, “Use protection, I’m begging you.”

You feel very hot after that, but Seonghwa takes your hand and leads you away.

He kisses you the moment you’re inside the dorm, his hands moving to unzip the hoodie, peeling it from your shoulders, he tosses it aside, his hands on your waist as he backs with you across the room, navigating you without having to look, and you follow where he leads.

“Get on the bed,” He groans after a moment, gently pushing you away, but reaching for your chin to touch your lips again. “I want your pretty mouth so bad, kitten.”

You like when he calls you that, a curl of pleasure in your belly each time he says that little pet name to you. “Yes, sir.” You step away from him, moving toward the nearest bed, laying back on it, and Seonghwa stands before you, his thumbs tucked under the waistband of his pants.

You can see his bulge and your mouth waters for him. You shift onto your hands and knees at the edge of the bed, facing Seonghwa, and he steps forward, pushing his pants down. Reaching for him, you pause, look up for approval, and when he nods, you shift a bit closer and drag down the elastic band of his underwear.

His cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him, though not as thick as Johnny, he’s probably just as long, and again you find yourself wondering how you got so lucky as to have two amazingly hot idols wanting you.

Seonghwa puts a hand on the back of your head, lacing his fingers into your hair, and he urges your mouth forward, wanting to feel you on his cock. And you don’t want to let him down.

You start out with a kitten lick to the tip, holding the rest of him with your fingertips. When he rolls his head back and hums in satisfaction, stroking the back of your head, you do it again and then push forward taking his tip in your mouth.

You push yourself further each time you go down on him, and the first time he finally loses his restraint and thrusts down your throat, gagging you around him, you jerk backwards, pulling off of him with a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his dick.

“So pretty,” he moans, “I want to ruin your lips, kitten. Bet you’d look so pretty with your face covered in my cum.”

You’re sure you would, but you don’t want him to waste his cum all over your face. With your fingers still around his length, slowly massaging him, you lean forward again to mouth at his tip, not going much deeper, not because you mean to tease, but because you’re not a fan of being choked on cock by surprise.

Still, he rolls his hips forward, trying to get more from you. His tip leaks blurts of precum onto your tongue, and the taste of him has you hornier than you’ve been all day. You’re dripping in your panties, and you wish he would touch you.

Again, you find yourself fantasizing about your other lover when you’re with your current one.

Would Johnny sit and watch or join in? As the elder of the two, would he take responsibility, dominating you, telling Seonghwa what to do, how to touch you, telling you how to please him? Or would Johnny passively sit by and admire the way that the younger has you sucking his cock, would he watch as you squirm in desperate need of being touched?

What if he touched you while you blew Seonghwa? If you had Seonghwa in front of you, Johnny behind you with his fingers so deep in your pussy that you could feel him in your belly?

You moan at the thought, wiggle your hips in an attempt to get any kind of friction for your needy core.

“Poor, kitty,” Seonghwa coos. “You’re getting nothing right now.” His hand goes to your shoulder, easing you back off of him. You sit back on your heels and look up at him. “Do you want Daddy to touch you?”

“Fuck, please.” You slip backwards, spread your knees apart. “Yeah, I want you to touch me.”

Seonghwa smirks so rude, his hand falls to your knee. “Oh, kitten. If you want something from me, you need to address me properly.” He sinks to his knees, hands on both of yours. “Call me Daddy, kitten, and I’ll give you a treat.”

You squirm on the bed, run your hands down your body to meet his hands. “Daddy, please, touch me.”

Seonghwa bites his lip and reaches up, hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and gently draws them down your legs. “Sweetheart, I wanna taste you so bad. When you ran into me that first day, when I felt you against me so soft and warm, smelling so sweet like honey, all I wanted was to kiss you. It’s been ages since I got to hold a girl in my arms, to taste her kitty so sweetly.”

His hands squeeze your thighs and he jerks, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He lifts your legs onto his shoulders, and when he lowers his head to your belly, his lips brushing over your skin, his teeth catch the band of your panties and he drags them down with his teeth.

You shiver as the cool air of the dorm and the heat of Seonghwa’s breath touch your newly bared skin, your wet pussy.

“Seonghwa-- Daddy,” You moan, lifting your hips with need.

He dives in, his hot tongue and lips lavishing between your legs, his tongue swirling around your clit, dipping inside you. He moans against you, his hands tight on your thighs and hips. You grip at the bedsheets, wrinkling them between your fingers, and it’s no time at all before Seonghwa brings you to an orgasm on his tongue.

The moment he pulls back, lips wet with saliva and your cum, he fills you with his fingers instead, his thumb against your clit.

You writhe and whine at the oversensitivity you’re feeling, but Seonghwa doesn’t let up, even as you roll onto your belly, his fingers curl inside you.

“You’re so sweet, kitten. I could taste you again and not get tired.” You feel his breath on your ass, the brush of his lips, and then his teeth dig in, and you moan at the pain tinged with pleasure. His free hand comes up and spanks your bottom. “Do you want Daddy to fuck you? Your cunt is probably desperate to be filled. Do you want me?”

Of course you want him.

You nod desperately, bury your face in the sheets when his fingers find that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Good girl.” He pulls back, leaving you empty and cold. “Ass up, sweetheart.” His hands jerk your hips up into the air, pussy bare and exposed for him. You can feel yourself dripping down your thigh you’re so wet for him.

You look back over your shoulder and you see him ripping open a condom, you watch him put it on, rolling it down his cock. He’s probably just as long as Johnny, though not as thick around, and either way, you know he’s going to fuck you good.

Seonghwa pushes into you hard and fast, not at all gently, but exactly what you wanted. He grinds in deep, rolls his hips forward, a hand pressed flat to your tailbone. “Shit, kitten, you’re so tight for me.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You grind back against him, trying to get him somehow even deeper. You love the wet, slippery feel of him fucking you, thrusting in deep, his hips rolling, snapping against your ass. “Just for you.” You moan as his hand pushes you into a slightly different position, his dick hitting just right inside you.

Seonghwa moans, and you glance back over your shoulder to see him staring down at his hips jiggling your ass, his cock disappearing inside you, and he bites his lip, his sharp eyes focused.

His eyes lift to yours, and his next thrust slows, torturously slow as he rolls forward. And then he stops just short of filling you completely. He holds there, his eyes on yours.

You can’t help clenching around him, grinding back, needing him deeper.

You want to feel so full, fuller than even Johnny had you feeling just the day before. “More,” You groan, pushing back and circling your hips on his cock. Seonghwa smirks and brings the flat of his palm down against your ass, and you quickly add, “Daddy, more.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Seonghwa digs the fingers of one hand into your hip, hard enough to bruise, and the other hand goes to your hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling so your back arches and the angle he’s hitting inside you has you squeezing around him with every thrust, sweeping bursts of hot tingling sensations through you.

You imagine again a scenario that brings Johnny into all of this, him standing on the bed before you, presenting his fat cock for you to take into your mouth while Seonghwa fucks you like this. As if Seonghwa has some inkling of what you imagine, his hand loosens his hold on your hair, moving his way around until his fingers touch your lips.

“Open up, kitten.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You obediently open your mouth and Seonghwa’s fingers fill your mouth, giving you something to suck on as you imagine choking on Johnny’s cock, him being forced deeper in your throat with every one of Seonghwa’s thrusts. How great it would be to be caught between the two beautiful men, both of them inspiring a lust in you like you’ve never felt.

His fingers drag out of your mouth, over your lips, and you whine his name, taking the brutal force of his thrusts as his hand falls down your body, his wet fingers finding your clit, and your back rest against his chest.

Your moans shiver through the room. Seonghwa’s hot breath is on your cheek, your ear as he says, “Are you gonna cum for me, kitten? I want to see you lose control. You’ve always been so reserved, professional at work, almost innocent in your messages.” His teeth graze your earlobe, his fingers pinch your clit, and he thrusts right against your G spot. “Cum, sweetheart.”

And you do.

Seonghwa doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking you, keeps rubbing your clit until you’re jolting in his arms, whining and crying, begging him to stop.

He lets you fall forward onto the bed, burying your face in the sheets as he keeps fucking you, and you do love the overstimulation, the slight pain of it that feels so good, all of your nerve endings burning. Seonghwa has both of his hands bruisingly gripping your hips, and his pace of thrusting into you is so intense, but still there’s a small part of you that doesn’t feel quite full.

If Johnny was here too you could have them both, have them filling you all the way. Both of them inside you cunt, fucking you with their big cocks.

Seonghwa swears behind you, his cock twitching deep in your belly. He does several of those rolling grinds of his hips forward, and you can only think of how well Johnny’s thrusts would compliment these moves.

To have them both in you would be a magical miraculous thing. Separately they’re great. Together they would have you never able to leave their beds again.

A deep thrust has you moaning, breaking loose any filter you have, and the words spill out without a thought.

“Oh, Johnny,” You moan.

The instant the name leaves your mouth you regret it. You bite your bottom lip, eyes going wide, and every movement goes still.

Seonghwa’s hand slides up your back, and you prepare yourself for his fingers to twist in your hair, tug you back by your hair.

His hand curls around your throat. “What did you just say, kitten?”

“I’m sorry.” You moan again as his fingers flex on your throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“Didn’t mean to moan another man’s name while I’m inside you?” Seonghwa slaps his other hand against your bottom. “You’re really a little slut, aren’t you? Are you fucking Johnny? Johnny who? From NCT?” You don’t say a thing, but your pulse betrays you, beating faster beneath his fingertips. “He always has seemed like a man whore. Every time I’ve seen him he’s flirting with everyone in sight. Does he fuck you good, kitten? Is he rough with you, man enough for you? He must not be if you’re here now in my bed.”

You moan.

“Bet he’s not got the big cock everyone thinks he does. If he can’t fuck you well, you’re always welcome to my cock, kitten. Do I make you feel better than he does?”

His fingers on your throat draw you back up against his chest. He grinds his cock into you even as you swivel your hips down on him.

“Answer me, kitten.” His lips drag your cheek, his tongue too dangerous to have you feeling anything less than severely turned on. “Does Johnny fuck you as well as me?”

“No,” You moan, gasping as he releases his hold on your throat. “I’ve only fucked him once, Daddy. You’re both so good, big cocks that fill me so well. He wants me to be his, but I kept thinking about you when I was with him.”

Seonghwa swears, a quick and quiet barrage of fucks as he pulls out of you, his hands on your shoulders spinning you around, and you slide down so your face is level with his cock as he tears off the condom and jerks his hand over his length.

He cums over your face, hot strings of semen shooting over your cheeks, your open lips, your tongue. Seonghwa moans and swears and tells you that you look so pretty with your face covered in Daddy’s cum.

You lick your lips and slump down onto his bed, somehow finding a pillow in your arms, held against your chest as Seonghwa leaves the bed.

He returns an instant or two later, a cool damp cloth in his hand as he wipes at your face before he moves down between your legs. It feels so nice on your hot skin, and he leaves little kisses on your thighs, your bottom, and then he’s at your head again, his hands so gentle, his touch so light you barely feel his fingertips on your cheeks as he draws you in for another kiss.

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Good? Sore? Do you want to shower?” He asks, his voice soft. You shake your head and move a little closer to him, as close as you can be with this pillow in your arms. “Do you want to sleep?” You nod.

“Okay, sleep.” He kisses your forehead, barely more than a brush of his lips. “I’ll wake you when you need to leave.”

For now, you’re not even worried about that. You’re just floating in the feeling of sexual satisfaction.

A few days later as you were curled up in bed, texting Johnny while you talked to Seonghwa on speaker, he brought it up.

“So how long have you been fucking around with Johnny?“ Seonghwa asks.

You sigh, “Literally the day we started talking was the first day he and I started talking. I’ve only had sex with him once, same as you. I didn’t think I needed to tell either of you about it. I didn’t think either of you would want more than just sex.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from Johnny. A pouty selfie that you can tell he’s sending you from a late practice. You send back your own of you in bed, just a thin strap of a camisole visible above the line of your blankets.

“Does he want more from you?” Seonghwa’s voice drops, “Than just sex?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t really discussed it, honestly.” You roll over onto your stomach. “Why? Are you jealous? Do you hate the idea of sharing me?”

Seonghwa makes a noise. “You’re not mine, Y/N. I don’t own you or anything, you’re perfectly at liberty to fuck whoever you want. I was just wondering.” There’s silence for a moment in which Johnny texts back just one word: fuck. Then Seonghwa says, “Does he know about me?”

“No.” You answer, possibly too quickly.

“Oh?”

Johnny sends you a follow up video of him dancing, his phone aimed at the long stretch of mirror in front of him so you can see him rolling his hips and biting his lip, playing up a fuckboy kind of vibe.

“He’s not like you.” You say, replaying the video again, unable to help locking your eyes onto the bulge at the front of Johnny’s sweatpants. “He is jealous. He seems pretty possessive anyway, which is kinda hot in the moment, but I don’t know. I’m pretty sure if I told him I was seeing anyone else on the side he wouldn’t be too into that.”

“And you’d be upset to end things?” Seonghwa sighs.

“I don’t know,” You softly admit. “I think I’ve only fucked each of you once and both of you blew my mind. I don’t want to call it quits on either one of you right now because it’s too much fun.”

Seonghwa hums. “I think you’re underestimating--- overestimating? I don’t know-- I think you’ve got him wrong. I think he’s like me in more ways than you think, and if he learned you were fucking another guy he wouldn’t be as ready to let you go. You’re captivating, and Johnny has to know that. He won’t want to lose something like you.”

And you definitely don’t want to lose him. Watching the way his cock looks in his sweatpants in that video, all you can think about is him fucking you into your mattress, but it’s Seonghwa’s voice you’ve got in your ear.

You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a deep breath.

The day that they’re both back at your studio, their schedules overlapping once again, you feel absolutely on edge. It’s been a few weeks since this all started. You’ve been talking to both of them almost every day. Johnny’s invited you to random places for quick fucks, and you’ve accepted a few times, and each time he leaves you more satisfied than the time before.

You always end up telling Seonghwa about these encounters, especially when you meet him in the back of a building or between parked cars to make out and maybe have him finger you against a car. You think he gets off on it, because he’ll have your lip between his teeth, his fingers inside you, and he’ll growl something about Johnny, telling you to recount your latest rendezvous with the older idol.

And after all these weeks, you still haven’t told Johnny that he’s not the only man in your bed. Things are still non-exclusive, so you certainly don’t feel obligated to tell him about it.

But now they’re so near each other again, and you know they’re bound to see each other, so you try your best to steer clear of not only their dressing rooms but that area of the building all together.

Of course, fate would have it another way.

You’re in the cafeteria, grabbing something to eat when there’s a slight commotion and Johnny comes striding into the room, looking like a model. A few of his members are with him, but he doesn’t shy away from smiling and sending a wink your way.

And then Seonghwa walks into the room right behind them. Yeosang is with him, talking about something, but Seonghwa’s focus is on you.

You flush with heat and try to hurry to finish eating, to get out of there before their paths cross, converging on you.

A few other idols are scattered around the room, so it’s not unusual to have the visiting idols in the cafeteria, but god you’re just itching to get out of there.

Yuta slips away from Johnny’s side and sits down at a table where Pentagon’s Yuto sits. And then Seonghwa and Yeosang approach Johnny and Taeyong.

Your heart stills in your chest as you see them greeting each other. Yeosang and Taeyong begin talking, and you watch closely the way that Seonghwa seems to be sizing up Johnny, looking him up and down, searching his face. Johnny’s smile falters ever-so-slightly, and his gaze flicks towards you for just a second.

You sink into your seat a bit, ignoring your coworker beside you who is in the midst of trying to say something to you.

Seonghwa hasn’t even said a word to Johnny beyond “hello” but still you feel this odd energy that connects the three of you, a burning string that passes through the room binding you and Johnny and Seonghwa together.

Seonghwa tugs up the hood of his white sweatshirt, tucks his hands into his pockets, and suddenly you can no longer see his face, can’t see if his lips move. You can only read Johnny’s face and his body language, see the simplest shifts of his body in the tight black t-shirt he wears.

Then suddenly, Johnny throws his head back and lets out that lovely laugh. Seonghwa is laughing too, and he turns slightly and catches your eye while he laughs with your other lover. You feel a burn in your gut, and you’ve never been less certain of the cause--arousal? jealousy? heart burn? nausea? You’re really not sure.

Taeyong and Yeosang have moved on, but Johnny and Seonghwa stand there talking to each other, looking too damn beautiful together for your sanity. Johnny is just a bit taller than Seonghwa, and you shiver in your seat imagining how it would feel to be pressed between them. You bite your lip absentmindedly.

Johnny’s in the middle of saying something to Seonghwa when he looks over at you again, catching you staring at him with such obvious lust. His words falter, and then Seonghwa’s looking as well. Both objects of your pure, unadulterated lust are looking at you.

You quickly look away, stand up, grab your food and move toward the exit, unable to handle being in the same room as the two of them any longer. And perhaps it really is best that you didn’t stick around to witness what happened in the moments that followed. You only learned of it later.

You’d invited Johnny over once before, late at night when his practice ended and you were incredibly horny and Seonghwa was busy. Johnny had told you that there was nowhere you could meet, so you sent him your address and told him that either he would show up or you would have to take care of it yourself.

So he’d come over.

And now he had once again come over, this time uninvited though not unwelcome.

It was already relatively late when he knocked on your door. You were huddled up under a blanket on your sofa wearing an old threadbare tshirt and a pair of short shorts that you were planning to sleep in. You certainly weren’t dressed for guests, but as soon as you saw it was Johnny standing your door, you’d opened it wide.

Johnny came inside, immediately sweeping you into a kiss, his arms fast and strong around you, the press of his lips hot. You moaned and ran your hands over him, wanting more and more and more. Johnny was happy to give it to you.

He kicked the door shut, backing you into your apartment, swallowing your moans and pouring some of his own back into your mouth.

When he accidentally runs you into a piece of furniture, you yelp and break the kiss, but Johnny trails fiery kisses over your jaw, your neck. He licks and sucks at a spot just above your collarbone that makes your knees nearly give out and you feel a gush of arousal.

“Say you want me.” Johnny growls. His hands sweep down to your ass, gripping tight, massaging. “Tell me how much you want me.”

“God, I want you,” you moan. You let him lift you in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. He always makes you feel so little, and you love it. “I want you so much.” You crush your mouth to his again, and this kiss feels like fire, burning through your veins.

Johnny doesn’t move farther than there, just holding you and kissing you, but then he pulls back slightly, presses just a slight kiss to your lips and then another as he sucks on your bottom lip to hear you whine for him.

“You want me?” He asks again once he’s released your lip. His voice is little more than a low rumble. You nod, your fingers at the back of his neck. You do want him so badly, your pussy is already throbbing in need of him. Johnny grins and hovers his mouth right above yours. “Are you sure you don’t want someone else instead? Park Seonghwa?”

You freeze. The fire burning inside you turns to ice. Johnny’s body suddenly feels stiff against yours, but he doesn’t let you down and you don’t try to move either.

“So he wasn’t fucking lying.” Johnny growls. “You’ve been fucking him too? Oh, baby, I thought your pretty pussy was all mine, but you’ve been sharing it with him? Even while you’ve been telling me that it belongs to me?”

You feel his jealousy, possessiveness. A feeling that’s not quite anger radiates off of him, and you can’t put your finger on what that feeling is.

“Johnny, I’m sorry.” You don’t mean it. You’re not sorry about a thing, but you know those are the best words you can offer him in the moment.

Johnny shakes his head. “No, baby. see, Seonghwa had a lot of interesting things to tell me earlier after we saw you looking at us like a little bitch in heat right there in front of everyone. Which one of us were you thinking about then? Me?” Johnny’s fingers brush against the seam of your pants, right over your damp core. “Or him?”

You can’t help squirming against his touch, and your answer comes out as more of a squeak than anything else. “Both!”

“What?” Johnny dips his head and his lips brush your throat. “What was that?”

“Both of you,” You moan. “In the cafeteria I was thinking of both of you. Both of you inside me, around me, touching me. I want you both.”

Johnny hums, the vibrations move beautifully under your skin. “Right answer.”

Suddenly you’re on your feet again and Johnny’s stepping back, leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He nods toward your front door. “Now open the door. I’ve brought a present for you.”

Your hands shake slightly as you lift them to open the door.

Seonghwa stands outside, huddled in his white hoodie, his hands buried in the pockets, his shoulders drawn up toward his ears. And even though he’s clearly cold, he still tries his best to give you one of those smiles that makes your heart skip a beat, and he says, “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Come inside.” You reach out, grabbing onto one of his sleeves and tugging. He stumbles through the doorway, and you immediately close and lock the door and then glom onto him. He’s freezing.

“Are you really gonna fuck us both?” He asks. His teeth only chatter a little bit, and you hate that he was standing out there in the cold while Johnny stoked your internal fire hotter and hotter in here.

You frown a bit over at Johnny and look back at Seonghwa. “I didn’t say I was going to fuck either of you tonight, actually. You’ve both shown up here unannounced, uninvited.”

“But definitely wanted.” Johnny butts in. When you throw another frown his way, he lifts his hands in surrender. “Seonghwa suggested the idea of us together with you. He said you might be into it. After he coerced me into telling him that I thought you were hot and then that we’ve been together, then he admitted he’s been having sex with you too. I probably would have been a bit angrier, made more of a scene, if it wasn’t for my suspicions.”

You wait for him to explain.

“I knew I didn’t leave that many hickeys. I barely touched your ass, yet you had light bruises sometimes. Just small things that I brushed off, thinking maybe I just didn’t remember exactly right where I’d kissed you, how rough I’d been with you.” Johnny shakes his head. “But as soon as he said that, then it all made sense.”

“She likes a little bit of pain,” Seonghwa says then. His cold fingers slip under the edge of your sleeve, circling like a band of ice around your wrist. “Don’t you, kitten?”

You turn to him and bite your lip, struggle not to simper at the cool look in his eyes.

“He told me that you’ve told him about us, about some of the things we’ve done. “ Johnny tutted and shook his head, taking a step closer to you and Seonghwa. “And he told me more, like the fantasies you’ve mentioned to him. And how hot he was sure you would find it if we fucked you together. Is he right about that?”

You nod.

“Do you want us to take you to bed?” Seonghwa asks you. You don’t even care if they wait for the answer, but they do, so you nod. It’s Johnny who sweeps you into his arms, planting a firm kiss on your lips, and he leads you away, navigating through your home to the bedroom, as if he’s done this dozens of times before instead of just the once.

“How’s this going to work?” You ask as you step into your bedroom, Johnny kissing at your neck from behind, and Seonghwa steps around you to take a look at your room. “Like is one of you going to watch? Is one of you going to fuck me while the other gets a blowjob or something?”

“How do you want it, baby?” Johnny asks.

You whine, a bit unsure about how you want it. You’ve fantasized about it so many different ways, now that you’re presented with it in reality, you don’t know how to choose.

Seonghwa sits down on your bed, making himself quite comfortable. He spreads his legs and pats his thigh. “Come sit, kitten. Let Daddy help you.”

Johnny snorts, but says nothing as he releases you.

You come over to Seonghwa and he looks so comfortable on your bed, that you just want to have him hold you, to bury yourselves in your sheets. He looks so soft though you know he’s not usually so soft with you. But you just want to touch him.

It feel strange to settle down over him, to straddle his lap while Johnny stands behind you, his gaze so intent on the pair of you that you can feel it burning against your back where Seonghwa’s hands move to rest on your hips.

You twist your hands in the bottom of his hoodie, and whisper the plea, “Kiss me.”

“Anything for you,” He murmurs, and his lips are soft when they meet yours. The kiss doesn’t stay so soft and innocent for long, very quickly Seonghwa pushes forward, turning things steamy as his tongue meets yours and your hands dip beneath the edge of his hoodie. Your cool fingertips on his warm stomach, and he moans.

Seonghwa allows you to pull his hoodie up, exposing more and more of his stomach and chest. He chuckles when he pulls back to let you drag it over his head, and he shakes it loose of his shoulders, down his arms, and he throws it into a pile on your floor.

You hungrily kiss him, your hands on his chest, his shoulders, delving into his hair, touching him everywhere while he kisses you senseless. Seonghwa’s hands fall to your thighs, and he squeezes, urging you to move on him.

You moan and shift, rolling your hips forward, finding his cock bulging the front of his pants for you to grind against.

“Yeah, like that, kitten.” Seonghwa’s lips drift to your cheek, his hands keeping you moving against him in a steady rhythm and you’re not sure when the room got so hot, but suddenly you can feel the heat flickering like flames on the bareness of your arms and legs

“That’s enough,” Johnny growls, suddenly right behind you, and you open your eyes as he wraps his hands around Seonghwa’s wrists, forcing his hands away from your body. “I’m the oldest, I had her first. I call the shots, kid.”

Seonghwa glowers up at Johnny and shakes his hands away only to lean back, still staring up at the older man. “Make your move then, Suh. Show me how much better than me you are.”

You don’t know what expression Johnny sends back, but Seonghwa averts his gaze at last, dropping his attention down to your chest still hidden by your shirt, your nipples obvious through the thin material. An instant later, Johnny’s hands are on your tits, touching them through the material, and you lean your head back and let out a barely contained moan.

Seonghwa watches, his gaze hot and judgmental, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he sees the way Johnny’s fingers have you pressing your chest into his touch, but still you roll your hips down against Seonghwa’s bulge.

Johnny leans over you, his fingers under your chin to tilt your mouth up against his, and he kisses you slowly, opening your mouth gently and tasting you, teasing his tongue against yours until you’re begging him for more. His fingers curl in the fabric over your chest, and he murmurs a soft and quick sorry, then you hear a sound, feel a tug and a burst of cold.

“Fuck, kitten, you’re so beautiful.” Seonghwa moans, his hands fly to your chest, now exposed as Johnny drops the shreds of your shirt. Seonghwa twists your nipples sharply between his thumbs and forefingers, and the sound you make has both men latching onto you.

Johnny kisses you deeper, Seonghwa buries his face against your chest, kissing your breasts, your collarbones, the base of your throat and over your shoulders. He traces his tongue down between your breasts as Johnny rubs circles against your jaw with his thumb and works magic with his kiss.

You whine and buck your hips, begging into the kiss, “Please, please.”

“Please what, baby?” Johnny asks.

“Can I cum? Please make me cum?” You swivel your hips down on Seonghwa’s clothed cock.

Johnny says, “Of course, baby” at the same time that Seonghwa says, “Absolutely fucking not, kitten.”

You want it so bad, and it’s hard to know what to do when you have both of them giving you contrasting answers. So you just sit still in Seonghwa’s lap and whine like a hopeless kitten for your Daddy. You reach for him, dragging your fingertips down his chest, his abs, down to the waistband of his pants, and when you start to dip your hand inside, Seonghwa jerks back.

“No.”

You shiver at the tone of his voice, so dominant and in control.

“What? You don’t want her to touch you?” Johnny asks. “What’s wrong with you? She gives great head. Don’t you, baby?”

All you can do is nod for him.

“I know how good she is at giving head,” Seonghwa snarks back at Johnny. “She’s blown me plenty of times. I also know that she prefers when I give her head over you. She’s told me so. Says you eat pussy like a messy dog cleaning off a plate.”

Your eyes go wide. You can’t believe he just said that. Yeah, you had said something similar to that once, but only because Johnny had been really lazy about eating you out, clearly not into it then, and you’d ended up faking your orgasm just to get him to fuck you instead. But it was only once.

You twist in Seonghwa’s lap, reaching for Johnny’s waist. “Johnny, no. No, I didn’t say that. You’re great at eating me out.”

Seonghwa’s eye roll was nearly audible. The surprise slap of his hand against your ass was definitely audible; it rang through the room so loudly that you almost heard it before you felt it.

“She’s a liar, this little slut of ours.” Seonghwa tells Johnny. Then to you he says, “You know what happens to naughty, lying sluts, kitty?”

His hand is still warm on your bottom. Yes, you know what happens.

Johnny watches as you slide back off Seonghwa’s lap, standing beside the bed as Seonghwa repositions himself so he can bend you over his knee to spank you. The elder of the two watches in absolute silence as you bend over, your ass in the air.

“She’s good for me. Is she this good for you?” Seonghwa asks as he tugs your shorts down to your knees. He tuts when it’s revealed that you weren’t wearing any panties beneath. “Such a slut. It’s like she knew we were coming, dressed like this and without any panties, all clean and pretty for us.” He trails his fingers ever so lightly over your wet, bare pussy lips. “Johnny hyung, wouldn’t you agree?”

Johnny groans, and Seonghwa strokes between your legs again.

You wiggle and whine until his hand comes down on your ass again.

“Stay still. Count for me, kitten. You know Daddy’s rules.” Seonghwa tenderly touches the warmth of your ass. He’s done this with you a few times now, slowly growing rougher and rougher with you after that first night, testing the limits he can take you to. So far, he has yet to find your limit.

You hear the faint whistle of his hand moving through the air. Feel the sharp burn as it shoots through your body.

“One,” You sigh.

The sweeping burn of pleasure through your veins again, the origin his handprint on your bottom.

“Two.” You twist your head to the side, glancing back over your shoulder to see Johnny, his eyes slightly unfocused as he watches Seonghwa bring his hand down again. “Three!” You moan this time. Johnny licks his lips, shifts a bit, and when Seonghwa’s hand comes down a fourth time, when you feel yourself beginning to drip with wetness, Johnny’s hand falls to his cock.

By the time Seonghwa reaches ten, you feel breathless, so turned on that you struggle to not grind your clit forward against his thigh. Johnny’s openly touching himself, his dick the first to make an appearance this evening as he runs his hand over his length, making slow work of it.

You’re absolutely dripping when Seonghwa dips his fingers between your thighs, tracing the pads of his fingers ever so lightly, yet they come away soaked, glistening wet.

“I think she’s ready.” He says, looking up at Johnny. His gaze flicks briefly down to Johnny’s hand jerking himself off, then he looks to his face again. “Do you want me to show you how to truly eat her out?”

You bury your face, whining with need. You just want to be touched, to be allowed to cum, to be completely and totally taken apart by one or both of these two men that you’ve found yourself in bed with on multiple occasions.

Seonghwa lets you up, and you stand on shaky legs, your ass burning as he lightly pushes you toward Johnny. “Make your choice, sweetheart. His cock or my tongue?”

“Can’t I have both?” You reach out both hands, one coming up against Johnny’s wrist, the other brushing Seonghwa’s cheek. “I want both of you. I thought that was the purpose of this evening? I want your tongue, daddy. You’re so good with it, it drives me wild. But Johnny, fuck, your cock feels so good inside me. You’re so big and thick, it’s like absolutely nothing else I’ve ever had. You both make me cum so good, so hard. I want you to be rough, fuck me, use me, ruin me. Are there any options for that?”

Seonghwa licks his lips, his tongue dancing lewdly for a moment, and then he grins, “I think there could be an option for that.” He looks past you to Johnny. “I want to have her sit on my face. You can fuck her pretty mouth like you were so eager to do.”

Johnny bares his teeth and says, “You might dominate her, boss her around when it’s just the two of you, but I’m not your submissive or even your equal, kid.” He slips San arm around your waist, drawing your body back against his, and you feel his hard erection against your back, the wet tip leaking against your skin. “Baby, you want your pussy filled, don’t you. And no one fills you better than me, right?”

You moan, twist your head to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut. You won’t admit to anything, and you can’t look them in the eyes even if it is true, even if you were saying it just moments ago.

“Her wet, dripping cunt is mine.” Johnny slides a hand down your belly, over your mound, slips two fingers between your lips down there to tease at your clit then dip back further and inserts them right inside you.

You moan, your knees almost buckle, but his arm around your waist keeps you from falling.

Johnny pumps his fingers slowly, his head bent low to press his lips to your ear. “Look at him. I want you to look at him watching me touch you. I should fuck you raw, baby. Leave you dripping my cum, ruined, laid out for him but still all mine. Would you like that?” Johnny’s teeth scrape lightly over your shoulder.

You shiver, tracing your hands down and over your body. One hand you move down to hold at his wrist, to feel his forearm flexing as he fucks you slowly on his fingers. The other hand comes up to your chest and you touch your breasts.

Seonghwa rises a moment later, unable to stand it any longer. But he doesn’t remain on his feet for long, dropping to his knees before you, he drags Johnny’s hand away, leaving your pussy hungry for his fingers, but Seonghwa just stares up at you as he sinks in, flicking his tongue against your clit.

It takes you another moment to realize it’s not actually you he’s staring at but Johnny, his challenge evident in his eyes.

Johnny’s cock twitches against you, and he groans. “I said she’s mine.”

Seonghwa hums against your lips down there, making your insides twist into a knot, and your grasp at his hands situated on your hips. He smirks and leans back just a bit. “I don’t know about that. She’s pretty weak for me. Maybe she’s actually been mine all along.”

You feel hot, both of them put their hands on you as they argue, both laying a claim to you, and you love the possessiveness. You want to feel their teeth on your skin, their cocks both pushing into you, jealousy leaving you a ruined mess of cum and sweat and so much pleasure when it’s over.

Johnny drags a finger up your spine, causing you to shiver intensely, but then Seonghwa’s warm mouth is back on you, his lips sucking around your clit. You feel your eyes rolling back, and you lean back against Johnny with Seonghwa’s hands still holding tight to your hips.

“Daddy!” You roll your hips down against Seonghwa’s face.

“Pretty baby girl,” Johnny hums, kissing your temple. “Do you want me to fuck you now?”

His voice is so low that Seonghwa probably can’t hear it. You can barely hear him over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears, but you bite back another moan and nod.

When one of his fingers presses down between your cheeks, venturing toward your pussy, you roll your hips again, and a moan breaks through your lips. “Johnny, please.” You close your eyes, almost whining.

There’s a sharp pinch on your thigh and then a hand moves up your body, easily reaching your throat. Seonghwa.

“Gonna moan his fucking name when it’s my tongue making you feel so good?” He asks, his fingers tightening so sweetly around your throat. You try to swallow but under the pressure of his palm it’s tight. His thumb presses in and you feel the waning. “Moan for me, kitten. Come on.”

“Daddy!” Your voice is barely more than a croak, but it satisfies Seonghwa. Until you moan Johnny’s name half a second later as he stuffs you with his cock, filling your pussy up in one deep thrust while Seonghwa was distracted.

It feels so good to have him use you so roughly, fucking you from behind while Seonghwa chokes you.

A fucked-out smile starts to work its way onto your lips.

Johnny moves fast, hard, and deep, guiding your hips back to meet his thrusts. Seonghwa licks at your clit again, his hot lips kissing over your hips and inner thighs, but when his mouth is back on you, when each of Johnny’s thrusts pushes you forward against Seonghwa’s hot tongue, your body feels overheated, tingles swirling in your belly until one good thrust, one sweet suck from Seonghwa unleash it all.

“Oh god, yeah, Daddy! Johnny!” You cry out, one hand flying to Seonghwa’s hair, the other curling around the back of Johnny’s neck as they both carry you through your orgasm.

They both slow, but neither of them stop.

Seonghwa lets his fingers take over from his tongue as he stands. He catches your chin between his fingers and holds your gaze as he licks his lips in the most over-the-top sexy way. His gaze slides from yours to Johnny, and you gasp in surprise when Seonghwa jerks you away from Johnny, spinning you around and pressing your back down against your bed.

He covers you with his body, and you pull him closer, just wanting to feel full, not caring which one of them it is. Seonghwa slides in quickly to feel how wet you are, and you’re instantly clenching around him, nearing a second orgasm from this constant stimulation you’ve been experiencing. He slides his hands up your thighs, pushes them up toward your chest, letting him reach even deeper inside you.

The mattress shifts, and there’s Johnny’s kneeling beside your face. His big dick is right there, still glistening with your wetness. It takes no prompting from him to have you leaning up on your elbows to take him in your mouth.

You sink into the feeling of being stuffed on both ends, the rhythm of sex, rocking motions. The pleasure swells inside you, taking over completely, swallowing you down into the depths of it until you’re drowning in the headspace.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when Johnny hits the back of your throat, when Seonghwa fills you so deeply you can feel him in your gut. Johnny rocks his hips against your face and you just take it all, gagging and choking, dripping saliva and tears and sweat and your wetness.

“This--” Johnny groans, pulling out for a second to tease the head of his dick against your tongue before you swallow him down again, too hungry for it to let him go for long. He clears his throat and tries again, “This is so good. Better even.”

Seonghwa moans and he reaches for one of your breasts. “You normally feel absolutely heavenly, kitten. But, shit, Suh, you’re right. She’s so wet, so horny for the two of us. Taking us so well, sweetheart.”

You moan in response, loving the praise.

“What if we let a third guy fuck you too, someone else who we know would fuck you just as well as us.” Johnny groans, thrusting down your throat, his fingers tight in your hair. “He’d fill your pretty ass while Seonghwa fucks your pussy and you choke on my cock. She’d be so pretty with all her holes filled. Probably feel even better too, be more of a little slut for us. All ours.”

“Fuck, yeah, she would be.” Seonghwa holds your thighs, his hips slapping against your skin. He groans, “You’d be so fucking tight, kitten. Filled with two cocks, so tight and warm. And imagine how full you’d feel, you always talk about wanting to feel full.”

You do. You so want to feel full. If you were at a point in life where you felt you could risk getting pregnant, if you felt you meant enough to either Johnny or Seonghwa that you would risk it, you would love to have them truly fill you.

Seonghwa’s hand comes down sharp against your thigh, making you moan around Johnny’s cock deep in your throat. His thrusts are growing slower, more intent less about prolonging the pleasure now and more about just getting there.

You squeeze your thighs at Seonghwa’s hips, suck along Johnny’s cock as you pull back only to have him fucking in deeper with his hand twisted in your locks. You roll your hips up trying to get Seonghwa there. You choke around Johnny’s cock.

When you close your eyes and all you’re left with is the pleasure, the sound of your heartbeat muffled in your ears, your pulse vibrating in every last cell of your being, the moans of your two lovers sounding like the sweetest song.

Seonghwa moans deeply, pushing in as deep as he can, his fingers pinch your clit, pinch and roll one of your nipples, and another orgasm explodes inside you so intense that you don’t know how your body holds itself together.

Rolling and drowning, caught in the ocean of them. Crashing waves against your body, and you just let them carry you, sweep you away, drown you and ruin you all at once.

You don’t know when Johnny leaves your mouth, only that suddenly you can suck in lungfuls of breath again.

“I’m gonna cum.” Seonghwa grunts, still rolling his hips, his cock in his hand now, and you struggle to sit up a bit. You reach for your tits, push them together, and give him a place to aim as he bites his lip and rolls his head back and bucks forward as he cums.

It’s so beautiful to see his pretty cock shooting cum on your chest. The way it leaks down his length has you wanting to lean forward and clean him up, but before you can, Johnny’s there, licking at your breasts, his hands gentle on your waist as he eases you back onto your back.

You curl your fingers against his neck, lifting your chest to his lips, moans spilling from your lips as easily as breathing. It’s second nature to part your thighs to make room for him, and Johnny takes his place. You’re so tired by now, your legs ache from the way that Seonghwa had you, but Johnny’s hands now move gently from your waist to your thighs, back up and down.

He sucks hickeys on your chest, taking level slow thrusts, his breath hot where it touches the wet marks he’s left behind. You dig your nails into his shoulders, keen his name until Seonghwa’s lips cover yours, silencing you.

Johnny goes entirely silent when he cums, pulling back just enough that you feel his cum bubbling hot against your clit, dripping down over your pussy but not inside you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your legs around his hips. Johnny rests his head on your chest while Seonghwa kisses you breathless, slowing it down after a moment until the kiss is little more than just your lips resting against each others.

The three of you stay like this for a while until Seonghwa’s breathing goes quite sleepy. Johnny pulls away from you, but he doesn’t stray far. He picks up the scraps of your shirt and wipes his cock and stomach, your thighs and in between your legs.

Seonghwa groans and flops over onto his back, and Johnny kneels between his legs, still holding the shirt. He’s tender, maintaining eye contact with Seonghwa as he carefully runs the remains of your shirt over Seonghwa’s stomach and his cock. The younger of the two sucks in a breath, looking up at him, but he doesn’t say anything.

You sniffle and turn onto your side, reaching for a pillow to hold to your chest.

Johnny looks at you.

“Baby, how do you feel?” He tosses aside the rag, sliding over to wrap you in his arms. “Was that good for you?”

“Yeah.” Your voice is a croak from the abuse your throat has suffered. “Very good.”

Seonghwa touches your throat lightly with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was so good. I loved all of it.” You release the pillow in favor of curling up against him instead. “Trust me, Daddy. I can handle whatever the two of you want to do with me. Just be sweet with me afterwards and I’m all yours.”

Johnny snorts, fitting himself right behind you. His fingers ghost over your cheek, down your arm until he slots his fingers between yours. “You’re ours. Our sweet.” His lips press against the back of your shoulder. “Competing for your affection is futile, isn’t it? You’d rather have us both in turns?”

You nod. “Want you both. The day you both came into my life was the best day ever. Just wish I didn’t have to keep it a secret so I won’t lose my job.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You have us, why would you ever need a job?” Seonghwa says. “You be our sweet as honey girl, and we’ll be your sugar daddies.”

Well, now that would be a hard offer to turn down, you think as they both scatter more kisses on your cheeks and shoulders, showering you with affection as moonlight shines through the sheer curtains over your window, casting everything in a wonderful, perfect, and dreamy light.

a/n: park seonghwa is an absolute menace, too sexy for his own good and is singlehandedly ruining my life and turning me into an atiny. I was talking with the fantastic and amazing @vernon-van-chwe about him and also about johnny because seonghwa currently has that whole cherry bomb era johnny look and it inspired this whole long mess of a piece of smut. it was definitely not supposed to be this long (which i say like every time i post something) but seriously, I was hoping to get it done that day and now it’s been like a week..... so yeah

anyway, i hope you enjoyed it. if there are any atinys reading this who are new to my blog! hi, nice to meet you I’m Bea an nctzen who really usually only writes for nct/wayv but I was truly inspired by the god park seonghwa. likes, reblogs, comments (through messages or tags or whatever way) are always and forever appreciated 😘😘😘

#nct #nct smut #ateez #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #johnny smut

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