#I might do another more christmassy one just to see if I can keep the momentum

[olessan]

I needed an excuse to motivate me intro drawing something different from my usual to get my art engine restarted, so I drew some spooky buns for a Redbubble contest. A pair of skvaders!

They're listed (here) 🐇

[girlwhofellfromthemoon]

Kid-friendly holiday crafts !! 🐣 I've created a list of all the crafts i want to do this year for the holidays. Most of them are kid-friendly as well and especially fun to do with regressors 💕 I've also included difficulty ratings of one to three stars. If a craft is more difficult littles might need some extra help to make them ! Homemade Gift Wrapping Difficulty: 🌟 Such a cute and easy way to make Christmas more creative !! And a good way to use the cute paper and stickers I've been hoarding all year because I don't know what to do with them 😖

Felt Christmas Cookie Ornaments Difficulty: 🌟🌟🌟 These ones are a little tricky but they're so cute, I love the colourful beads on them that look like sprinkles !! And a Christmas tree would look so good with lots of these hanging up🎄

Scented Salt Dough Ornaments Difficulty: 🌟 I only gave these a one star difficulty because they're very easy to make. But keep in mind that they do use the oven ! Other than that, they're cute and smell nice, it's like the best of both worlds 😆

Christmas Bunting Difficulty: 🌟🌟 I love bunting, not only Christmas themed, but all year round !! It's my favourite wall decoration and makes my room feel like I'm having a party every day 🎉

I also found some other bunting patterns in different shapes, these ones are more holiday themed ! But that means that they're a little more difficult to make. Here's the links for star and Christmas tree patterns. Difficulty: 🌟🌟🌟

And also, another one because I just love bunting. This one's Christmas tree shaped but is much easier because it doesn't require any sewing ! Difficulty: 🌟

Gingerbread House Gift Wrapping/Advent Calendar Difficulty: 🌟 These ones are very similar so I grouped them together. Decorating brown paper bags with white markers to make little gingerbread houses ! Which you can use for wrapping presents but also to make a whole village for an advent calendar 🏡

Fabric Paperchains Difficulty: 🌟🌟🌟 I love paperchains but they always tear when I try to make them. These one's won't though and because they have velcro you can mix and match the patterns when you get bored of them 💭

Gingerbread House Card Difficulty: 🌟 You can probably tell I love gingerbread houses. I just think they're so cute and Christmassy ! And it would be so fun to make these cards but also everyone would be so happy to receive such a cute card ! 🌈

And that's all !! I might update this post as I see more crafts during the month but I think this is a good list to start off with. Also if anyone does any of these please post a picture ! I'd love to see them 🥰💖

[theflyingfeeling]

Twelfth Day of Gift-Giving: Gift Ideas

Prompt(s): jewelry + polaroid camera

We can have a little Christmassy angst & pining. As a treat 🖤 (another standalone, the main story will be continued...later this week 😌)

~

“Janne told me he’s buying Joel a dildo."

Olli snorted the mouthful of coffee he had just sipped back into his paper cup.

“What?!”

“For that stupid Secret Santa thing," Tommi explained. "He got Joel. Said he’s gonna write him a card saying ‘Merry Christmas, go fuck yourself’.”

With his mouth now empty – and provided with proper context for the anecdote – Olli was now able to laugh at it. 

“Just what he needs, really.”

“D’you mind if we pop down to some stores on our way? I still need to buy mine for Porko.”

“Yeah, sure. Haven’t bought mine either.” Olli didn’t have much else scheduled for his Tuesday than a coffeeshop slash passport picture date with Tommi, so he might as well try to get the whole Secret Santa gift exchange fuss over and done with in time before the band Christmas party on Saturday.

“Who did you get?” Tommi asked and bit into his Christmas star pastry.

“I ain’t telling you. It’s Secret Santa, if I may remind you.”

“So Aleksi?”

Olli brought his cup back to his mouth, hoping it might at least partially hide the sudden blush creeping on his cheeks. 

“When are you gonna tell him?”

“Tell him what,” Olli said laconically. Somehow, playing dumb was much easier than facing the truth. That was why it annoyed Olli to no end how he never stood a chance when Tommi as much as raised his eyebrow at him.

“Why should I tell him?”

“Don’t you think he deserves to know?”

The question made Olli sigh heavily, out of sheer frustration. 

What right does Aleksi have to know, huh? How does he deserve to know that I can’t stop fucking thinking about him any more than I deserve this bullshit misery I’ve dug myself into? Or perhaps I do deserve it, in fact, just as a punishment for having fallen for him in the first place. Aleksi, on the other hand? All he's done has been just being his amazing, funny, sexy self to deserve nothing but blissful ignorance.

“Dunno.”

The creases on Tommi’s forehead softened.

“You’ll make your own decisions of course, but just… consider it. It might help you… you know…”

To get over him? To move on and forget about him, because it’s not like he’s ever gonna feel the same about me, and even if he did, by some goddamn miracle, it wouldn’t change a thing because he’s engaged to be married next spring? If anything, it would only make matters worse, thank you very much. 

“Sure, I’ll think about it.” Olli chucked down the rest of his coffee, still so hot it almost burned his throat. “Well, let’s go then?” Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair he was sat on and headed towards the shopping mall escalator, not stopping to see if Tommi was keeping up with him. He did hear the long sigh with a beaten undertone to it but hoped that would be the end of that conversation. 

~*~

Still empty-handed after visiting a number of stores at the mall, Tommi pulled on Olli’s sleeve as they passed a jeweller’s.

“I wonder if they have something under twenty euros there?”

“Worth a shot,” Olli shrugged, although he had already more or less given up on finding anything he’d want to give Aleksi for Christmas that wouldn’t scream either ‘I’m crushing on you so fucking bad that I will go insane if you look at me like the way you did that night in Berlin one more time’ or ‘hey, bro, have this stupid boob-shaped flower pot as a token of my brotherly affection, because I’m totally cool with the fact you’re getting married to someone that’s not me and that I’ll never get to have you the way I want you… bro’.

As soon as they entered a shop, Tommi’s face lit up when he spotted a display of cheap children’s earrings.

“Hell yeah, now we’re talking. Oh, look, Little My ones!” Tommi picked up a box with a pair of stud earrings inside, a poorly-painted Moomin character as decoration.

“They sure would fit Porko’s new stage fit,” Olli smiled wryly.

“Yep, that’s my gift for Porko settled,” Tommi agreed, checking the bottom of the box for the price. “Have you found anything for Aleksi yet?”

Olli then pretended to look around the selection of jewellery and shrugged.

“How’s about one of those fake septum rings? Since he seems to like the one he already has.” Tommi nodded towards a shelf displaying a collection of fake piercings in various colours and styles. 

Olli swallowed. He did not need a reminder of Aleksi’s new-found love for piercings, not after that one night Olli had, lying in his bed at night going out of his mind missing Aleksi’s stupid face, been browsing Aleksi’s social media accounts until a picture of the man Olli had never seen before, with his neck and eyelids painted black and a ring decorating his septum, appeared on his phone screen. Promptly Olli had ignored the other piece of jewellery Aleksi had been wearing on his left ring finger and had begun grinding against the mattress with his eyes nailed to Aleksi’s face until he had come inside his boxers, his moans and gasps muffled by a pillow.

He hadn’t felt proud of himself afterwards, even though it was hardly the first time he had masturbated to the thought of Aleksi.

“That one looks cool,” Tommi pointed at a septum ring with decorations imitating brass knuckles. “I think Aleksi might like it,” Tommi pointed out helpfully before heading towards the check-out counter, a self-satisfied smile on his face as he admired the perfect gift he had found for Porko.

Aleksi would like it for sure, but what about Olli’s own sanity?

Fuck it, he thought nevertheless and grabbed the damned ring before walking after Tommi.

~*~

So far, Olli had succeeded in keeping a sensible distance to Aleksi without seeming like he was avoiding him, while also holding on to the last bits of his mental health. At least Aleksi wasn’t wearing that ridiculous(ly hot) fake piercing, even if Olli did have to restrain himself from staring at Aleksi's unruly hair and the front of his tight black t-shirt for too long, or else he might have actually begun to weep by Aleksi’s feet. 

Joonas loved the Little My earrings Tommi had bought him, and Janne did, indeed, gift Joel a large, pink dildo just as he had threatened, which resulted in a round of immature laughter as the silicone sex toy was passed around. When it came to Aleksi’s turn to open his present, Olli made sure to look everywhere else except at him.

“Oh, wow, this is cool.” Aleksi brought the little box almost to his nose for a closer inspection. “Really cool, actually.”

In his moment of weakness, Olli dared a glance at Aleksi, only to find he was looking straight back at him in return.

“Thanks,” Aleksi said. Olli wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what had blown his cover.

Not exactly in his best Christmas spirits, and even less in the mood of being everyone’s centre of attention, Olli dawdled unwrapping his present until everyone else was already gawking at the silly knick-knacks and tacky accessories they had been gifted by fellow bandmates or members of the crew. Luckily his was hidden inside a simple paper bag, so he could easily sneak a look in without making a show of tearing it open from wrapping paper. 

When he saw what was inside, he swore his heart stopped for a second or two.

He was looking at a polaroid camera, but instead of a brand-new, never-before-used one, he had been given his own polaroid camera, the one he had lost during their European tour in the fall. It had been broken that night, dropped on the floor one too many times, and on top of that someone had stolen it right from their table towards the end of their afterparty in a crowded local bar. He had pretended not to be bothered by the loss, even though snapping random, aesthetic shots at their tour locations had been his favourite pastime during those weeks; at least it had given him something else to do and think about than drowning himself in his heartache.

Aleksi was the only one who would’ve known how upset he actually had been about the stolen camera, for Olli had (literally) cried about it to him afterwards in their hotel room, too tipsy on cheap German beer to care how Aleksi might have perceived him. It was Olli’s best and worst memory from that tour; falling asleep with his face buried in the crook of Aleksi’s neck, waking up with a throbbing headache and his yearning for the man stronger than ever.

Although Olli had immediately recognized the camera from the slight dent on its side, he still reached for it to pick it up in his hands, just to make sure it really was the same one he had lost – or thought he had, it now seemed. With a trembling finger he turned the camera on and couldn’t help the soft gasp that left his mouth when he saw the device coming to life, which had not happened the last time Olli had held it in his hands. Then he proceeded to take a picture of the pile of torn wrapping paper on the table in front of him and watched as a still blacked-out picture slid out of the machine. 

Suddenly the private room they had rented for the night at a downtown Oulu restaurant felt too small and suffocating around him, so he set the picture and the camera on the table and stormed outside.

The frigid coldness of the outdoors punched the air out of Olli’s lungs, forcing him lean against the brick wall by the back door of the restaurant to catch his breath. At least it was winter and the terrace was empty; he didn’t exactly need witnesses for his little meltdown.

He wasn’t granted the privilege of privacy for too long, however, because a moment later, the back door opened, letting out the cheerful chitter-chatter of the restaurant for a couple of seconds before muffling it again. 

“Everything okay?” Aleksi asked him. Olli could only bring himself to nod. 

“I, ummm… I had your camera fixed.”

“I noticed."

“Sorry I had to steal it first though. I didn’t meant to, in fact I was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it, but then I just… then you… fuck, nevermind.”

A small cloud erupted in the cold winter air as Aleksi sighed heavily.

“It’s fucking cold in here,” he said when the cloud had disappeared and stroke his bare arms. “Let’s go back inside?”

“Yeah, you go, I’m just gonna… I need another breath of fresh air, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Aleksi said quietly, but showed no other signs of leaving his side. 

Olli wondered if the silence between them was as deafening to Aleksi as it was to him.

“Thanks for the piercing, by the way. It’s fucking cool.”

“How did you know it was from me?” Olli couldn’t help himself any longer and blurted out the question or else he’d go mute for good.

Aleksi chuckled. “Christmas magic, I guess.”

Olli almost felt like telling Aleksi to shove his ‘Christmas magic’ to you-know-where for giving him such an annoyingly vague answer instead of a serious one, and he supposed Aleksi understood his passive-aggressive silence as the man continued a moment later:

“I, uhhh…” he paused to chuckle, “I may have gone through everyone to figure out who was your Secret Santa and then switched with them. And now I sort of regret it, I mean… I should’ve just given the camera to you weeks ago. I’m sure Niko would’ve gifted you something that wasn’t as… creepy.”

“It’s not creepy,” Olli shook his head. “It’s very thoughtful, actually. Thank you. I… god, I hadn’t even thanked you yet,” he groaned, hiding his face in his hands for lack of anything better to do with himself. Aleksi had just given him the sweetest, most unbelievable Christmas gift Olli could have dared to wish from the ridiculous Secret Santa humbug Joonas made them do every single year, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be thankful from all his pining and grief? Such a friend he was.

(Aleksi did deserve better.)

“So you’re not mad at me for taking your camera and not telling you?”

Olli shook his head again.

“No.”

How could I ever?

“Good,” Aleksi nodded. His teeth had begun clattering. “Fuck, it’s freezing tonight. I could never live this up north.” 

Please don’t remind me.

“You should go back inside. I’ll be right behind you.”

“No, I can wait. Keep you company.” Aleksi shoved his hands in his jean pockets, casually as if he wasn’t literally shivering from the cold. “I mean. Unless you want me to go.”

If Olli had been even half as strong as he would’ve liked to be, he would’ve ordered Aleksi to leave him alone so he could dwell in his misery in peace. Tragically, the part of him that craved to be near Aleksi always trumped any other feeling.

“Just stay. If you want to. Although I’m afraid I’m not the best company right now.”

He could feel Aleksi look at him, patiently waiting for him to elaborate.

“Is there anything I can do to help that?”

Is there? Let’s see. You could throw that ring of yours in the Bay of Bothnia and call off the wedding for starters, or if you can't do that, then at least cross my name off the guest list, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to witness your happiness next May, as selfish as it sounds. Or then I guess you could pull me in your arms like you did when I cried to about how grief-stricken I was about having my camera stolen and maybe even let me fall asleep on your chest one last time, for old times’ sake, before I’ll pack my bags and move to the North Pole perhaps, or some place else that’s too cold for these thoughts of you to follow me.

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

Next to him in the dark, Aleksi nodded. Yet, he made no effort to leave his side, although by then he must have been struggling to appear unbothered by the cold in just a thin t-shirt and jeans.

After a while, when Olli himself was starting to feel the effect of the minus degrees, Aleksi shuffled closer to him; not quite touching him, but close enough to easily rest his chin on Olli’s shoulder if he wished to; close enough for Olli to hear his shivering breaths in his ear.

“Olli, I… I should tell you. While I still can.”

It was laughable how just one sentence was all it took to bring Olli’s hopes back up from the gutter. Not awfully high, but on the surface, as if to make sure they'd still be alive to maximise the pain on the way back down to the depths of his agony. 

Because there were times Olli had asked himself if the lingering looks or touches they shared meant as much to Aleksi as they meant to him. He had spent many a sleepless night wondering if there really had been something other than friendly fooleries going on in between them when Aleksi had pinned him against the backstage couch in Berlin or whether Olli had only imagined the thirst he had seen Aleksi’s his eyes. Sometimes he stayed up until morning, trying to come up with a rational explanation to why Aleksi had been texting with him throughout the night instead of being asleep next to his fiancée. 

Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he couldn’t sleep for whatever reason; literally any other reason than what Olli hoped would be the truth.

“Tell me what?” His voice was shaking, but not because of the cold.

“That I, ummm… that I’m… Oh.”

Instead of finishing what he was about to say, Aleksi reached for his back pocket and took out his phone, a soft buzz sounding from it. Another cold silence fell on them as Aleksi stared at the screen, studying the notification that had popped. Only then Olli could dare a look at the man, his face illuminated by the blue glow of the phone screen.

Olli decided he’d be better off not asking who it was that was missing him, afraid he knew the answer already. 

“Ummmm… Nevermind.” Aleksi sighed at the phone before putting it away. Then he reached his hand to brush the back of Olli’s palm lightly. Aleksi’s touch was surprisingly warm and gentle, yet it sent shivers down Olli’s spine.

“Don’t freeze yourself to death, okay? I’mma head back inside.”

Olli was left staring at Aleksi’s back before it disappeared inside the restaurant, leaving him to voice his response to the pitch-black wintery night instead.

I might as well, he said in his mind, as I’m sure it would be less painful a way to go than dying from this torture of being in love with you.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 2 December 1954

I have to say, a glance ahead at this week's two songs doesn't exactly fill me with anticipation. Both songs are by artists I know and who, to be charitable to them, were probably fine upstanding artists in the 1950s, but don't exactly mesh well with my modern sensibilities. Now we properly have rock and roll on the scene, it will be interesting to see how quickly acts like these disappear - but it doesn't mean I have to love their stuff.

Let's Have Another Party - Winifred Atwell (peaked at No. 1)

I do admire how Winifred committed to the bit. All of her songs sound exactly the same and have a title that's basically "Let's Have a (insert word for party)". Here, she's apparently run out of options, and just gone for "Let's Have Another Party". Which marks this song out as a sequel to her first big hit about as clearly as you can.

To be fair, I suspect people listening to these didn't want innovation - the idea would surely be to spot the snippets of tune you recognised, a bit like a mashup today. That's part of the fun and the good news is that I actually got to experience a bit of that, because amazingly, I knew a few of the bits she included, this time! I got "When the Red Red Robin", "Bye Bye Blackbird" and "Tell My Ma", all very British songs. Plus there's your classic "shave and a haircut" ending, which is beyond cheesy, but familiar.

It's good fun. It might just caught me at the right point - I'm sure on another day I'd find this irritating, but for now, I quite like it. Of all Winifred's offerings, I think I might like this most? Purely because I felt quite accomplished spotting all the little quotations - a lot of them were songs I knew from primary school, so it was quite the nostalgia trip. I guess it's the same reason why we like mashup videos now?

It also has a curiously ice-cream van vibe, which makes me wonder when they started playing songs. A cursory bit of googling suggests possibly the 1920s, which would explain the music hall vibes. Either way, it's jolly enough, with a slightly less janky vibe than some of her stuff has had. The tone of the piano is plinky and bright, and it's all very chipper.

Santo Natale (Merry Christmas) - David Whitfield (2)

Okay, so Winifred surprised me. However, the prospect of listening to Christmas music right now, just after Christmas, is not a welcome one. Even less welcome, unfortunately, is David Whitfield. Every time I have come across this man, I have not particularly enjoyed his songs, so I'm really struggling to keep an open mind here.

The title is interesting, in that it's Italian. I've noted a few times in this calendar year the seeming obsession that the charts have had with all things Italian. So I assume David, who's always had an operatic bent, is jumping on a trend here? It's not inherently a bad thing - I love Feliz Navidad, which is similar, just Spanish instead of Italian. And I on principle support more random bits of other languages popping up in my music!

We start with peals bells, it's a very Christmassy sound. The strings with it are lovely, too, conjuring up a very festive vibe.

And then we slow right down as David starts singing, which is a shame. I'd always rather they keep the pace up, especially when the lyrics aren't exactly anything to write home about. We get a bland "Santo Natale / Santo Natale / This is my way of saying / Merry Christmas to you," followed by various greetings and good wishes that could come straight off a Christmas card. It's suitable to the occasion, and it does the job, but it's really very generic. I can imagine grandmothers sighing and thinking "oh, that's lovely", but it's no lyrical dynamite, that's for sure.

There's also no obvious reason for it to be Italian. I'd get it if David Whitfield was Italian, or if this was a cover, but it doesn't seem to be? So why is this in Italian, apart from a vague "Italian is cool"? As I said above, I don't have anything against it, but it is a bit perplexing.

There's a key change and then the string section takes over for a bit. Great, I think, a string recap of the tune - and then the choir takes over. They're an all-female choir, and they sing in a very high register, with a very posh accent. Seriously, listen to how they sing the word "few" - they sound like the late Queen! They accomplish the rather impressive feat of making me want David back, so kudos to them for that, I guess?

We then get the trademark David Whitfield Big Old Ending, but he just about sticks it. You can get away with it at Christmas, after all, and the peals of bells and strings come back to salvage it as the song draws to a close. The overall effect is epic, but so is the occasion, and so it feels more like the end of a slightly old-fashioned Christmas film. This is one occasion where the Big Old Ending really does work - modern Christmas songwriters, take note!

Well, I was pleasantly surprised. I didn't love either of those songs, but they weren't as bad as I was primed for. Even David Whitfield, who is usually the shakier of the two artists, acquitted himself here, with a festive song that I can't bring myself to truly dislike. It's weird listening and re-listening to Christmas music in early January, though.

Favourite song of the bunch: Let's Have Another Party

[lavendertales]

My dearest Ari, since your requests are open, I was wondering if you could write something Christmassy with Javier.

Maybe there’s a Christmas party at the Embassy, some hanging mistletoe, and Steve pushes two pining idiots under it and they kiss before revealing their feelings for one another...

Love you ❤️

Annie!! ❤️ Oh I am living for the soft, holiday-themed vibes!!

pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

warnings: just soft and smitten Javi. you caught me, I’m a sucker for that.

gif: @hunterschafer 

Oddly enough, the Embassy’s efforts to get its employees into the holidays spirit seemed to be working.

Everyone, from the higher names to the usual agents were mingling with one another, drinking and exchanging information which was finally not based on their work. It wasn’t always easy t o detach yourself in that field, but for tonight, they could press pause on chaos.

Javier’s nerves were far from being soothed though. He seemed jumpy and more tense than usual, gripping onto the glass of whiskey as if were a life vest. The little ticks and gestures did not go unnoticed by Steve as he approached him curiously.

“You good?”

“Fuckin’ A.”

So that was denial. Steve watched where Javier’s eyes went and when both their glares landed on you, then it made sense.

You had been quite the distraction at the office, especially for Javier. Though he didn’t admit to it, his eyes followed you everywhere you went. Sometimes he went out of his way to keep you safe during missions, checking on you and appearing overall smitten. But God forbid anyone mention anything like that to his face.

But Steve wasn’t anyone.

“I’m not gonna wipe your drool from the floor,” he cooed at Javier.

His partner frowned. “What?”

“Come on, man, you’re embarrassing yourself. You’re clearly smitten.”

Javier threw him a harsh look, as ice-cold and vicious as he could before chugging down the rest of the whiskey. He took a deep breath, not bothering to respond just yet.

“Javi. Seriously?”

“What do you want to hear, Murphy? That I think that’s one of the most attractive people I have ever seen? That I can’t stop thinking about – “

You waltzed your way to the pair, smile painting your face brightly and eggnog in your hand.

“Hey guys.”

“Look at you in the holiday spirit,” Steve commented.

“Love me some good eggnog.”

Javier resorted to merely smiling at you, words fleeting from his mind. It was shocking even for Steve. So the latter huffed and gently nudged the two a bit further away.

“Huh. Would you look at that,” Steve acted all surprised. “Mistletoe.”

You looked up, chuckling at the silly tradition whilst Javier pulled at his tie, clearing his throat. 

“Well. I guess three’s a crowd, so I’m gonna go get acquainted with Hernandez over there. Have fun!”

When Steve left, Javier was left with a huge hole in his stomach, one that couldn’t vanish by an overwhelming amount of alcohol. 

“It’s no big deal, Javier, we don’t have to,” you reassured him.

“Is it okay if I –?”

With wide eyes, you couldn’t help but smile and nod. You had to admit, your own skin was afire the more Javier’s face inched closer to yours, his warm breath barely touching your lips, soon being replaced by his own lips.

It was soft and somewhat hesitant, yet filled with the kind of passion that only Javier knew how to provide. You weren’t a dummy, you heard the stories and rumors around the office, but you didn’t want to judge before you had all the facts.

There you go. You had your fact.

When you separated, Javier’s facial expression changed as well to a much more relieved one, though the crease between his brows told you otherwise.

“I can see some of the rumors I heard were right,” you teased him.

“What rumors?”

“None that should worry you. But some were right. You are a good kisser.”

Javier actually felt flustered for the first time in his life. One look at you and it was all he took to know that you might be someone special.

“I do like you, you know?” you confessed. “You’re a bit of a fixer upper, but… who isn’t?”

Javier swallowed, mouth filled with words he couldn’t voice at the time.

“I think you’re incredible,” he muttered.

“I think we owe it to Murphy, don’t we?”

“Great. Now we’re never gonna hear the end of it.”

You chuckled, pressing a light kiss on his cheek, shuddering at how soft his skin felt, at how warm that man could be in ways you had yet to explore.

permanent Pedro crew:

@doin-stuff @pedro-pastel @acourtofsnakes @beskarboobs @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @rosiefridayrogersunday @imcalledflorence @boxdyeblonde @artsymaddie @casssiopeia @sleep-tight1 @pasckles @northernpunk @wantingpedropascal @evelynseventyr @itssmashedavo @phoenixhalliwell @elegantduckturtle @mylifeinthetardisforever @ohhersheybars @kingsqueensandvagabonds @greeneyedblondie44 @sebbys-girl @mrsparknuts @hnt-escape @hayley-the-comet @spideysimpossiblegirl @lsphoenix @kirsteng42 @lunaemss @goldielocks2004 @diogodxlot @gracie7209 @floraandfrost @mejswho @dobbyjen @janebby @what-iwish-you-knew @jedi-jesi @kaqua @datenshi666 @stevie75 @ezras-channel-rat @for-my-satisfaction @quica-quica-quica @mishasminion360 @eri16 @lovesbiggerthanpride @xaestheticalien @grandfanficstation @mrsudontknowme @hello-i-am-daydreaming @mando-s-wife @pastamomma @midwesternwitchery @headinthestarz @drreidsconverse @dindjarinneedsahug @captainjaspenor @pscalwhiskey @1800-fight-me @phandoz@pedrostories @ayrusss 

Requests are open! 

[engie-ivy]

I Want To Thank the Storm That Brought the Snow

You Make It Feel Like Christmas - Blake Shelton & Gwen Stefani

City boy Sirius intends to make a short work trip to the town of Godric’s Hollow, but is forced to extend his stay when he gets snowed in. However, when local café owner Remus Lupin offers to teach him the True Meaning of Christmas, it might not be so bad after all.

Yes, it's the Cheesy Christmas Classic, made Wolfstar.

I. Snowed In.

“You’re what?”

“Snowed in,” Sirius sighs, holding the phone with one hand and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. “My train was the last train in, and now none are coming in or going out. The snow storm created quite some chaos, and it doesn’t look like it’ll be melting anytime soon.”

“You’re stuck? During the busiest time of the year? How can you be stuck now?”

“Yes, how dare I create a snow storm?” Sirius says, rolling his eyes.

“Why are you even in Godric’s Hollow, of all places, in the first place?”

“We still need good photos for the Christmas Exhibit.”

“There’s a Christmas tree right here on the corner, couldn’t you have taken a photo of that?”

“I tried, but all the photos I took in the city lacked… something. And Godric’s Hollow is the most Christmassy place on earth. I figured if I can’t take a decent photo here…”

“You’re wasting way too much of your time, and more importantly, my time, on those photos of yours.”

“I do Advertising, it’s part of the job.”

“Advertising, and Sales. I don’t think you’ve made a single Sales Target this year.”

“Well, I can’t change the weather, so let’s just try and make the best of it. I’ll take and edit the photos while in Godric’s Hollow, and send them to my team at the office to put on the website for the promo, and then I’ll try to be back in time for the Christmas Exhibit.”

“Try to be? No, Sirius. You need to be. If you don’t perform at your top during the Christmas Exhibit, and make up for you lacking sales numbers, the CEO may decide you no longer have a job in the new year.”

And with that, the connection is broken.

“Yes, mother,” Sirius mutters under his breath. “I’d be devastated too if I can’t be with my family for Christmas.”

Sirius starts typing on his phone to search directions to the inn he’s staying at, as it’s quite a walk from the train station to the town, but the internet connection keeps getting lost.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, fine,” Sirius replies curtly, without looking up from his phone.

“The expression on your face doesn’t say so.”

Sirius looks up to kindly tell the stranger to mind his own business, but the words die in his throat as he sees the young man standing in front of him. The first thing he notices are his eyes. He has big, amber eyes, that look warm and friendly. He has golden, curly hair, cute freckles, and a curious smile on his face.

“Oh, no, don’t worry,” Sirius says. “That’s just my standard expression after talking to my mother.” He glances down at his phone, only to see another ‘error while loading the page’, and he curses.

“Troubles with you phone?”

Sirius sighs. “I’m trying to look up directions to my inn, but...”

“Internet’s not working properly?” The guy smiles. “Yeah, the connection around here’s not great, I’m afraid.”

“How do you ever find anything without your phone?” Sirius asks, exasperated.

The guy chuckles. “Why, this is Godric’s Hollow! You ask! People are actually friendly here. Where do you need to go?”

“Eh, the Deer ‘n Doe Inn?”

“Excellent! I’ve been meaning to drop by there today anyway. I’ll walk you.”

Sirius looks hesitant.

“Don’t worry. I won’t suddenly ask you for money or rob you and leave you in a dark alley. And not only because we don’t even have any dark alleys in Godric’s Hollow.”

“So, what business brings you to your town?” The guy asks as they walk down the hillside, towards the valley where Godric’s Hollow is situated.

“What? Can’t I just be a tourist?”

The guy looks Sirius up and down, who, with his polished shoes, classy slacks, expensive blouse, long, designer coat and cashmere scarf, looks nothing like the tourists in their plaid vests and knitted sweaters, and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, alright,” Sirius says. “I’m here for work, to take photos.”

“You’re a photographer?”

“Nah,” Sirius says. “I do Advertising for the family business. The Black family empire is quite a big deal. We buy art and exclusive designer items, and sell them to rich clients. We have a huge Christmas Exhibit each year, and we need good photos with the right Christmas vibe to put on the website, to decorate the Exhibition Hall with, and, hopefully, to sell.”

The guy looks at him in shock. “You work during Christmas? Every year?”

Sirius laughs. “You sound like I just told you I kick puppies in my spare time! But yeah, the Holidays are the busiest time of the year, with the Christmas Exhibit as the biggest and most profitable event of the year. You can imagine my family is not best pleased I’m stuck here due to this snow storm, now of all times.”

“You do show dedication, coming all the way here just for some photos.”

“Yeah,” Sirius sighs. “I did try to take photos in the city, but they were bland, missing the right feel. So I came to the famous Christmas town of Godric’s Hollow to-”

“Rediscover the True Meaning of Christmas!” The guy finishes for him.

“No...” Sirius says slowly, looking over him, amused. “To quickly take a few decent photos and then travel back as soon as possible. Though that last part won’t be so easy anymore...”

They are now walking into the town.

“At least now you have some more time for photographing,” the guy says. “There’s so much to see here this time of the year! I mean, you just saw on the walk here how beautiful the scenery is.”

Sirius blinks. No. No, he didn’t. He turns his head and looks back at the path they just came from, leading down to the valley and the picturesque houses and twinkling lights of Godric’s Hollow, overlooking the pine trees growing on the sloping hills, all covered in a crisp layer of white snow. He hadn’t seen. And when had he stopped seeing such things?

They walk to the side of town, and there, a little way on yet another hill, lies an old-fashioned, but well kept building, with a broad porch, large windows and a wide balcony, garlands hanging from the railing, and lights decorating the rooftop.

“The Deer ‘n Doe Inn!” The guy says, turning to Sirius with a smile.

He walks up to the front door, so maybe it wasn’t just an excuse to walk with Sirius after all that he had wanted to visit the inn anyway. Sirius pushes the disappointment he feels at that away and follows the guy inside.

“Hello!” A young woman greets him with a bright smile. With her thick, dark red hair and captivating emerald green eyes, she’s very beautiful, even with the awful Christmas sweater she’s wearing, a knitted monstrosity depicting a doe wearing a Santa hat, the fabric glittering and the nose of the doe being a red, plush ball attached to the sweater. “Welcome! Did you manage to find it alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sirius replies politely. “This gentleman was so kind to walk with me.”

The woman chuckles. “That’s no gentleman! That’s just Remus! And please, call me Lily.”

“He calls me a gentleman now,” the guy, Remus, grins. “ But before, he thought I was going to rob him!”

“Why are you city folk always so pessimistic?” A tall, young man with round glasses, a messy mop of dark hair and a crooked grin on his face strolls into the hall. He’s wearing a sweater similar to the woman’s, only his is depicting, unsurprisingly, a deer.

“When you’re in the city, it’s not pessimistic, but realistic,” Sirius replies.

The man laughs. “Fair enough, mate.” He extends his hand. “I’m James.”

“Sirius,” Sirius replies.

“Ah,” Lily says. “Sirius Black! You’re booked for one night, but I figured with the snow storm you might want to extend your stay?”

“If it doesn’t trouble you too much, that’ll be great, thank you ever so much.”

“No trouble at all!” Lily smiles, pressing a key in Sirius’ hand. “I’ve put you in The Owlery. Don’t worry,” she chuckles. “It’s not an actual Owlery, that’s just the name of the room.”

“Good,” Sirius chuckles as well. “If I were to sleep in an actual Owlery, I might have been forced to put in a complaint.”

Suddenly, he spots a small boy peeking around from behind James’ legs. He has the same green eyes as Lily, and the same messy hair as James.

Sirius crouches down. “Hello, and who do we have here?”

The boy proudly lifts his chin. “Welcome to DeerDoe Inn, sir. My name is Harry Potter.”

“My, my,” Sirius smiles. “We have a proper little innkeeper here! Hello, my name is Sirius. You know, I was put in The Owlery, but I have no idea where that is.” Sirius rubs his chin thoughtfully. “If only I had someone who could show me the way... I may even have a chocolate bar somewhere in my bag I’d give them as a reward.”

Harry’s eyes light up. “I know! I know! I’ll show you, sir Sirrus!” Harry rushes up the stairs.

Sirius turns to Remus. “Well, thank you.”

Remus nods. “Cheers, mate. Good luck with everything.”

“Sir Sirrus!” Harry yells from the top of the stairs.

Sirius grins. “I think that’s my cue.”

As soon as Sirius has disappeared up the stairs, Lily turns to Remus with a smirk. “So, you’re now guiding people from the station to the inn? Or is that only for the handsome ones?”

“Oh shut it,” Remus says. “A posh city boy is hardly my type.”

“Fuck. Damn this,” Sirius curses as he clicks through the photos on his camera.

“You know, that’s not the reaction people usually have when seeing our famed Christmas Square for the first time.”

Sirius turns around to find Remus standing behind him, bundled up in a coat, complete with mittens and hat.

“The lighting is all wrong,” Sirius sighs, turning back to the square and lifting the camera back up. He sees Remus step up beside him from the corner of his eye.

“Have you even looked at the square?”

“Of course,” Sirius mumbles absentmindedly. “I’ve been trying to take a decent picture of it for the last hour.”

“No.” Remus places a hand on his arm and gently pushes the camera down. “I mean really looked.”

Sirius blinks as he stares at the square, not understanding what Remus means. It’s the same square he’s been looking at the whole time! He sees the row of Christmas trees with the flickering lights that are impossible to capture on a photo, he sees the ice rink that reflects the light, making everything else on the photo look too dark, he sees the church that casts a shadow over the square which just looks odd when photographed. He’s about to ask Remus what on earth he’s talking about, when suddenly, he sees it. An elderly couple standing hand-in-hand listening to the choir on the steps of the church singing Christmas Carols, a woman wrapping her shivering dog in a warm blanket and scratching him behind his ear, a father teaching his young daughter how to skate, both of their faces bright with smiles. It’s not the overall picture that carries the feeling, it’s the small details.

Remus, who’s studying him closely, seems to read it from his face, and he smiles. “I thought so. Have a lovely evening, Sirius.”

Sirius is sitting in a small café with his laptop, glad that the place at least has decent Wi-Fi and that it’s not too crowded. Just him, a few other customers, and a friendly girl named Marlene working the counter. He’s going through his photos, but finding them still lacking. “Oh, fuck this.”

“It’s a good thing I know by now that’s your way of showing appreciation, otherwise I might have been insulted.”

Sirius looks up at Remus, who’s standing by his table. He’s wearing a knitted Christmas sweater similar to Lily and James’, only his has a wolf with a Santa hat on it.

Sirius arches an eyebrow. “Are you stalking me?”

“Well, I could’ve ignored you, but in my experience customers tend to consider that rude.”

“You work here?”

“I own this place.”

“Really?” For the first time, Sirius takes a proper look around the café. It has large windows with Christmas wreaths in front of them, cosy looking chairs and tables with Christmas arrangements placed in the middle, a large Christmas tree in the corner, a fire place with comfy looking chairs around it, and a glass display filled with all kinds of Christmas cookies next to the counter. “That’s amazing!”

Remus smiles proudly. “It is pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

“Why is it called Moony’s?” Sirius asks curiously.

Remus chuckles. “An old nickname. As my name is Remus Lupin, we used to make jokes that I turn into a wolf at the full moon.”

“That’s cute,” Sirius smiles. “And the place looks great.”

“The food’s pretty great too. If you would actually taste it instead of thoughtlessly shove it into your mouth while working on your laptop.” Remus nods towards the plate next to Sirius’ laptop, that has a half-eaten Christmas cookie on it.

“Ah, sorry,” Sirius says guilty. “It’s just... these photos again.”

Remus moves to stand behind him and peers over his shoulder at his computer screen. “Still no good?”

“No,” Sirius sights. “They just don’t do anything, they’re just... bland. There’s no emotion, no feeling, no...”

“Christmas Spirit?” Remus helpfully supplies.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Is this all part of your secret agenda to force everyone to embrace the True Meaning of Christmas?”

Remus gasps. “How dare you! There’s nothing secret about my agenda to make people embrace the True Meaning of Christmas.”

Sirius lets out a laugh, and Remus sits down on the empty chair in front of him. “But I’m serious,”

“I thought I was?”

“You’re the expert, and I’m under no illusion that some small-town café owner knows better than you when it comes to photography,”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming up.”

“But I do know a thing or two about Christmas Spirit! And when I see you taking photos, you’re not actually looking. Well, I suppose you’re looking, but you’re not seeing. If you don’t put any emotion into taking your photos, how can you expect people to feel anything when seeing them?”

Sirius looks at him thoughtfully for a moment, then he nods, as if reaching a decision. He closes his laptop and leans forward towards Remus, resting his chin on his hand. “Alright, mister Lupin. You’ve convinced me. I’m going to give it a shot. Teach me the True Meaning of Christmas!”

Remus blinks, and then grins. “Sirius Black, you’ve come to the right place and the right man!”

II. The True Meaning of Christmas.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Remus’ eyes are sparkling with excitement.

“It’s a good tree,” Sirius agrees.

“I think it’s the biggest one we’ve had so far!”

“So, now they’re going to set it on fire?”

“What?” Remus whirls his head around to Sirius. “No! Why on earth would you say that?”

“You said it was a Christmas Tree Lightning!”

“The lights in the tree, Sirius!”

“Oh...”

“Don’t sound so disappointed!”

“This is the end. I’m going to die.”

“You’re being awfully dramatic.”

Sirius glares at Remus, not releasing his death grip on the railing. “How am I dramatic if I could literally fall and break my neck?”

Remus makes a few rounds, the bloody show-off. “It’s honestly not that difficult.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius says. “But stand by my point that humans weren’t made to balance on two upturned knives on a frozen, slippery surface!”

Remus laughs. “For god’s sake, Sirius, it’s just ice skating!”

Sirius continues to glare.

“Do you want me to get you a chair?” Remus asks mockingly.

“Yes!”

“I was joking. Only children use a chair. You’ll look ridiculous.”

“I don’t care!”

Remus sighs. He places one hand on his hip and extends the other to Sirius. “Come on!”

“What?”

“Take my hand!”

“No way! I’ll drag us both down to the ice.”

“I’ve been skating since I was a child, I can handle it,” Remus insists.

Hesitantly, Sirius releases one hand from the railing and takes the hand Remus is offering. They make a few rounds around the rink, Sirius getting more and more steady.

“See?” Remus smiles. “You’re getting better already! I can almost let go of your hand.”

Sirius pales and grips Remus’ hand tighter. “Don’t you dare!”

“I think I really did just die in a gruesome skating accident,” Sirius says. “Because me being in heaven is the only explanation for this.” He holds up the red cup with the froth of whipped cream on top and stares at it in awe.

“Told you,” Remus says. “Madam Rosmerta’s Hot Chocolate, there’s nothing better.”

Sirius takes a sip and actually moans. “I swear, Remus, this is the best thing that’s ever touched my lips.”

Remus chuckles. “I don’t think your girlfriend will be happy to hear that.”

Sirius laughs. “Good thing I don’t have one of those, then. And I can tell you, none of my ex-boyfriends ever tasted this good. If they did, they wouldn’t be my exes,” he adds with a wink.

Remus shakes his head and takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, but he can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Come on!” Sirius holds out his hand for Remus.

“No way!” Remus says, shaking his head.

Remus may have gotten a little carried away buying chocolate from one of the stands on the Christmas market, and Sirius had helped him carry his new stock home, after which Remus had offered him a cup of coffee.

“I know you’re the expert,” Sirius says. “But I’m pretty sure that dancing around the living room to Christmas music is a definite ‘yes’ when it comes to finding the Christmas Spirit!”

“Well, I’m not stopping you.”

“Join me,” Sirius insists.

“I can’t dance!”

“I can’t skate, but you forced me out of my comfort zone, and you have a lot less chance of breaking your neck dancing.”

Remus still hesitates.

Sirius makes a flourishing bow and offers Remus his hand. “Sir, may I please have this dance?”

Remus sighs. “Just don’t laugh at me.”

Sirius does laugh, not at Remus though, with Remus. Both guys can’t stop laughing as Sirius twirls Remus around the living room to the sounds of ‘Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time’. Remus doesn’t even seem to care anymore he keeps tripping over his own, and occasionally Sirius’, feet. One trip sends him tumbling forward against Sirius’ chest. As Remus smiles up at him, Sirius suddenly becomes very aware of Remus’ hand in his own, and the other resting on his back, and Remus’ body pressed up against him. He almost trips himself, and Remus raises an eyebrow, looking as though he’s about to make some sassy remark, so Sirius shuts him up by suddenly spinning him around and dipping him. Remus throws his head back in laughter, and as Sirius gazes down at him, he thinks it’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“One café latte,” Remus says, placing the mug in front of Sirius. “You know, I really would’ve taken you for the dark roast type of guy.”

Sirius winks at him as he takes a sip. “Don’t tell anyone my secret.”

“Wouldn’t dare. So, did you hear anything about your photos yet?”

“Yes! After I send the photos for the website, my mother responded that instead of completely a waste of time, at least I’m now predominantly a waste of time.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” Sirius says, surprised. “That’s a huge compliment coming from her! Like when I graduated college, and she said that if I’ll end up being a failure now, at least I’ll be a failure with a college degree.”

“How... lovely,” Remus says. “What about your father? Do you get on with him?”

“Wouldn’t really know, ” Sirius shrugs. “He’s the CEO of the company. If my brother or I want to talk to him, we need to book an appointment with his assistant three weeks in advance. But even then, he usually cancels when ‘something actually important’ comes up.”

Seeing Remus’ face, Sirius makes an attempt at grinning. “But hey, he hasn’t fired me yet, so I guess he doesn’t totally hate me?”

Remus doesn’t laugh at the joke.

When Remus stops by the inn that evening to bring Lily and James freshly baked bread for breakfast the next morning, Sirius is in the common room, sitting on the rug in front of the fire place, playing with Harry.

Without really being aware of it, Remus stops and looks at the scene. Sirius must’ve just gotten out of the shower, as his hair is still damp, and instead of the usual ponytail or messy bun, it’s hanging loose over his shoulders. As he reaches over to take the toy Harry’s offering him, a few dark strands fall across his face, contrasting with the brightness eyes.

Lily comes to stand next to Remus and sends him a knowing smile. “Lovely sight, isn’t it?”

“I really don’t see the point of this.”

‘How do you not see the point?” Remus replies, and Sirius has to do his very best to focus on his words, with Remus’ hands so close to his lower back, where he’s tying up the apron that he hung around Sirius’ neck, a dark green thing with images of Christmas cookies printed all over it. “You have a good time, and you end up with a batch of freshly baked gingerbread cookies! It’s the perfect Sunday morning activity.”

“But factories are completely specialised in baking gingerbread, their only goal to determine the perfect balance of ingredients, the exact baking time, the perfect temperature, and then they produce hundreds of gingerbread cookies a day! I don’t know the first thing about baking, so why would I go through all that trouble when the cookies I make will never be as good as the manufactured ones?”

Remus places his hands on Sirius’ shoulders and starts steering him towards the kitchen of Moony’s. “Home-baked always taste better than manufactured! You can’t deny that!”

Sirius shrugs. “I bought an instant cake mix once, but then my oven caught fire.”

Remus starts steering Sirius away from the kitchen and towards the kitchen table. “You know what? Why don’t you do the decorating once the first batch is finished, and leave the baking to me!”

“This is... a mess.” Remus holds up one of the cookies that Sirius decorated, or, well, tried to decorate. “It doesn’t look like a gingerbread man anymore, more like a gingerbread monstrosity.”

Sirius takes over the cookie from Remus and studies it. “It kind of reminds me of my mother,” he says before biting the head off.

“Your mother must be quite something.”

“You know how some people only introduce someone to their mother when they think the relationship is getting real?”

Remus nods.

“Well, for me, it’s the opposite. When I really like someone, I keep them as far away from my mother as possible, but when I want to break up with someone, I introduce them to my mother, and that’s usually enough to send them running in the other direction as fast as they can.”

Remus shudders. “I hope I never have to meet your mother.” Only after saying it, he realises how it must’ve sounded. “I mean... I don’t mean... Not that we would ever...”

Sirius just smiles softly. “Don’t worry, Remus. I would never introduce you to my mother.”

Remus blushes as Sirius looks at him.

Sirius tilts his head. “You have a bit of... cake batter on your cheek.”

Remus quickly wipes at his face, only smearing the batter further.

Sirius lets out a soft laugh. “Wait, let me.” He leans in and reaches out a hand, placing his fingers gently on Remus’ cheek, while wiping the batter away with his thumb. “There,” he whispers, not removing his hand from Remus’ face. “Perfect.”

Remus meets Sirius’ eyes, and almost automatically, they lean in, slowly bridging the distance between their faces.

“Remus! Thank god, here you are!”

Sirius and Remus quickly jump apart as a young woman enters the kitchen, slightly out of breath.

“Alice?” Remus asks. “What’s wrong?”

“Mister Honeydukes fell down a step decorating his Christmas tree!”

Remus jumps up. “Oh no, is he alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Alice quickly says. “But he strained his ankle, and he was supposed to bake Christmas cookies for all children of the school for tomorrow! You’re the only one who can bake as good as he can, maybe even better! Can you help, please?”

“Tomorrow?” Remus asks, his eyes widening. “That’ll cost me all day! And I was supposed to go to the Christmas Tree Farm with my father today, and help my parents decorate their tree...”

“I’m sorry, Remus. You know I wouldn’t ask if I had any other choice. It’s just... the children will be so disappointed!” Alice pleads.

“Oh, alright. I’ll do it.”

Sirius stands up and places a hand on Remus’ shoulder. “I wish I could help, but I really don’t think a burning oven will do you any good right now.”

Exhausted, Remus walks over to his parents’ house for dinner. He’s had very long day, but he managed to bake enough sugar cookies in the shapes of angels, pine trees, stars and wreaths for all children, and thinking about how happy they’ll be tomorrow kind of makes up for it. He hopes his parents managed okay without him though.

As he walks into the living room, he stops, staring in surprise at the scene in front of him.

His mum and dad are decorating the Christmas tree, together with Sirius. His parents are laughing at some joke Sirius just made, and all three of them are wearing Santa hats. Sirius is even wearing one of his mum’s trademark knitted Christmas sweaters! His having a dog wearing a Santa hat on it.

Sirius spots him and beams. “Hiya, Remus! Your dad asked me to help him pick up a tree at the Christmas Tree Farm- which is actually a farm with nothing but Christmas trees! Who would’ve thought? – and then your mum asked me to join them for the decorating!”

“Did you know Sirius never had a Christmas tree growing up?” His mum asks, sounding scandalized.

“And your mum even made me this sweater!” Sirius tugs on the sweater to show Remus, as if he could’ve missed.

Remus stares at his mum. “How did you even...”

“Oh, simple,” his mum says, waving her hand. “I know your size, so just a bit longer, a bit broader in the shoulders, a bit narrower in the waist...”

“Yes, thank you, we get the picture,” Remus says, not needing a side-by-side comparison of his and Sirius’ physique.

“Come on, Remus!” His mum says. “Go put on your Christmas sweater! I want to take a photo of you handsome boys in front of the tree!”

“You don’t have to wear that if you don’t want to,” Remus says softly as he and Sirius are posing in front of the Christmas tree, while his mum is trying to figure out how her camera works.

“Are you trying to get me to take my clothes off, Lupin?” Sirius says teasingly. “Tough luck, I love my new sweater, and I’m never taking it off!”

“I know my parents can be quite... intense, and I don’t want you to feel obligated...”

“Do you mean you didn’t ask your parents to do this? I thought it must’ve been part of your whole finding the True Meaning of Christmas-thing.”

“No,” Remus shakes his head while looking over at his parents. “This is all them, I’m afraid.”

“Hey,” Sirius sounds a little anxious now. “I didn’t mean to just intrude on your family-time. I understand if you want me to leave?”

“No!” Remus quickly says. “No, I want you here. I... I like having you here.”

“Good,” Sirius says, relieved. “Because there’s no place I’d rather be.”

Remus turns to Sirius and looks up at him with a soft smile, and Sirius looks back at him with a similar smile on his face. And that’s the exact moment Remus’ mum finally figures out how to work her camera.

“Sirius, you’re staying for dinner.”

“Oh no,” Sirius says, already half getting up from his chair. “I couldn’t possibly impose on your hospitality even more than I-”

“Son,” Remus’ dad places a hand on his arm. “One thing you’ll learn soon enough now you’re in Godric’s Hollow: when Hope Lupin says that you’re staying for dinner, it’s not a question.”

That’s how Sirius finds himself joining the Lupins at their dinner table, Remus’ mum and Remus sitting across from Remus’ dad and Sirius. Remus’ mum notices with great satisfaction how Sirius and Remus keep throwing glances at each other, and exchanging small smiles every time their eyes meet, both blushing as they look away again, but she doesn’t mention it.

“So, Sirius,” she asks. “What do you later want to be?”

Sirius chuckles. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I know I have a youthful appearance, but I’m afraid I’m already twenty-five, and that’s all been decided.”

Remus’ mum shakes her head. “That’s nonsense! First of all, you are still very young, and have your whole life in front of you. But more importantly, what does age even have to do with it? It’s never too late to decide what you want to be!”

Sirius thinks about it for a moment. “Well,” he says slowly. “I think I’d like to be a photographer. A real one. Not to sell stuff, but just for the beauty of it.”

“That’s lovely. Remus says your photos are really good.”

“Does he now?” Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Well, he certainly has never said that to me!”

“Because unlike my mother, I know the danger of inflating your ego even more,” Remus says airily.

“Oi!” Sirius laughs, and then tells Remus’ mum “Truth be told, I couldn’t have done it without your son. I had forgotten to see the beauty in things, and your son...” He turns to look at Remus. “Well, he was my wake-up call.”

After dinner, Remus gets up to help his parents clear the table, and Sirius gets up as well.

“Not you, Sirius,” Remus’ mum says. “You’re a guest.”

Sirius opens his mouth to protest, but Remus’ dad gives him a look and he sits down with a sigh. “Let me guess, not a question either?”

“You two make a great couple.”

Remus is helping his mum do the dishes, his father having gotten out of it this time, as he already went and got the tree today.

Remus groans. “Mum, he’s not staying, he lives miles away, and we only just met. We’re not going to be a couple!”

“Not with that attitude, you won’t,” his mum scoffs.

“What do you want me to do then? Ask him to give up his family, his job, his entire life, to come to some sleepy small town for a local café owner he only just met? Or do you suggest we try long distance? With him probably being too busy with his life in the big city to even call, and meeting at least ten people a day who are all a hundred times more interesting than I am?”

His mum sighs. “I know it won’t be easy, Remus. These things hardly ever are. But there’s something between you two! The whole town is talking about it. You two have this amazing chemistry that doesn’t come along so often, and I’d hate to see you turn your back on that. You talk about him all the time! He about you as well, mind you. And the way he looks at you...”

“Stop it, mum! Just... stop it. You’re giving me...”

“Hope?” His mum smiles. “That does sound like me, doesn’t it?”

The large balcony of the Deer ‘n Doe Inn gives a great view over Godric’s Hollow. The sun is shining brightly in the blue sky, the church bells are ringing, the large Christmas tree on the square is just peeking out above the houses with their snow-covered rooftops.

Sirius sighs as he takes it all in. “It’s official. I’ve gotten attached.”

Remus smiles, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the railing. “Yeah, it’s hard not to fall in love with, innit?”

Sirius looks over at Remus, his golden curls blowing softly in the wind, a content look on his face, the tip of his nose red and his cheeks rosy from the cold air. “Very hard not to fall in love with,” he says softly.

Remus turns to Sirius, and seeing Sirius looking at him intently, his cheeks colour even more and he drops his gaze. “Sirius...”

“Here you are!”

Lily steps out onto the balcony, pulling her vest tighter around her, Harry trailing after her.

“Sirius, I was looking for you. The trains have started up again, so regarding your booking, I wanted to ask whether you’re planning on leaving today, or maybe you’ve decided to stay a bit longer?” Her eyes quickly dart over to Remus and back at those last words.

“The trains are riding again?” Sirius can’t help the relief in his voice. Yes, he loves Godric’s Hollow (well, maybe it’s not per se the town he loves), and he hates to leave, but he has also been feeling terribly guilty about letting his little brother deal with their parents and all the Holiday stress on his own. As the big brother it’s his obligation to at least share the burden. Besides, even if he were to decide to turn his life upside down and make some drastic decision regarding his future, he should talk to Regulus about it first, as it’ll affect him too. He owes him that much.

Sirius doesn’t notice the way Remus’ shoulders stiffen at hearing the relief in Sirius’ voice. “Isn’t that wonderful?” There’s a sharp edge to Remus’ voice. “I bet you can’t wait to get back to your real life.”

Sirius gives him a confused look. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not. Everything’s great! The trains are riding again! You can finally get out of here!”

“Why are you acting like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you can’t wait for me to leave!”

“Well, don’t you want to leave?”

“I... I guess, but...”

“Then what's the problem?”

“I... I suppose there’s no problem.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll just go pack my things then.”

Remus watches Sirius go inside.

“I’ll help, sir Sirrus!” Harry runs after him and grabs his hand.

Lily crosses her arms in front of her chest and glares at Remus.

“What?” Remus says. “You heard him when he found out the trains are going again! He can’t wait to leave! He doesn’t want to stay!”

“You don’t know that!” Lily retorts. “You haven’t asked him, and as long as you don’t ask, you don’t know!”

“Come on, let’s be honest. Just because he hung out with me when he had nowhere else to go...”

“You’re just scared! You’re scared that if you ask him to stay, he’ll leave anyway. And hell, maybe he will, but then at least you know! At least you’ll have taken a chance! You’re so scared of getting hurt, so scared of running the risk that after being open and vulnerable with him, he’ll still leave, so you choose to push him away yourself. But you’re just hurting the both of you right now.”

Remus’ expression hardens. “Our lives are too different, Lily. Just because you have a connection with someone, doesn’t mean that’s who you’re supposed to be with. Timing and circumstance also matter, and right now, timing and circumstance have decided that he’s not for me.”

III. A Godric’s Hollow Christmas.

Sirius is in his office, wearing one of his best suits, standing in front of the large windows that cover almost the entire wall. People are always praising the view over the city his office offers, but all Sirius sees is grey. Grey sky, grey skyscrapers, grey streets. He has a lunch scheduled with the Lestranges in half an hour. Rabastan Lestrange is always making unsolicited advances at Sirius, and gets handsy when he drinks too much, which is almost always. But the Lestranges are important clients, so Sirius just has to ‘sit there, be polite, and smile through it’ as his mother puts it.

Behind him, the door opens and closes. Sirius doesn’t look away from the window as footsteps approach.

“What’s gotten into you?” Regulus asks. “Normally, I’d say you’re just dreading having to be in the same room as Rabastan Lestrange, but you’ve been acting off ever since you came back from this Godric’s Hollow place. What happened to you there? Or should I say who happened to you?”

Sirius lets out a humourless chuckle as Regulus joins him at the window. Regulus is shorter and slightly more scrawny than Sirius, but he might look like a young boy, hell, he is a young boy, but employees leap to obey when Regulus tells them to do something. He’s disciplined and responsible, much more so than Sirius, and he knows how to direct a business. Sirius’ strength lies in coming up with creative ideas and branding, but Regulus is a marketing genius. He knows the numbers and he knows the market, and he knows exactly what calls to make to generate most profit. Regulus is cunning and ambitious, and he thrives in the family business. You’d think their parents would be pleased, but Regulus is better at leading the company than they are, and he loves nothing more than to show them just how much better, which decidedly does not please them. But still, Regulus is happy with his role in the family business, which is more than Sirius can say.

“Regulus, what would you think if I told you that I’ve been doubting whether this, this job, this company, this lifestyle, is really what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“Honestly? I’d be surprised,” Regulus says. “Surprised that you’re only figuring that out now! Sirius, I’ve known this isn’t for you since the first day you started working for the family business. If only because it’s literally draining the life out of you day by day. Really, I thought you knew, and were just waiting for the right moment to leave.” Regulus shakes his head. “Well, this does explain why it’s taking you so long.”

Sirius stares at him for a moment, then a broad grin appears on his face. A weight seems lifted now that a large part of his doubts disappears, with Regulus confirming what he had been feeling. “So, what would you say if I told you that I might have found a place where I think I could belong?”

Regulus grins back. “I’d say what on earth are you doing here?”

Sirius gives his little brother a hug, and when he pulls away, Regulus takes something out of his coat pocket. “Before I forget, this was just delivered for you. I managed to snatch it away before mother could see.” He hands Sirius what seems to be a Christmas gift, wrapped in dark green paper with red dots. “Merry Christmas, Sirius,” Regulus says, before walking out of the office.

“Merry Christmas,” Sirius replies, staring at the gift in surprise. He opens it, and his lips part in a small gasp. He’s holding a framed photo in his hands, of Remus and him wearing their Christmas sweaters, standing in front of the Christmas tree. They’re not posing for the photo. Remus is looking up at Sirius with a soft smile on his face, and Sirius is looking back with a similar expression, the two of them staring into each other’s eyes and not even seeming aware of the camera, not seeming aware of anything but the other. There’s a small, handwritten note added to the gift, and Sirius reads the single line that’s written there:

It’s never too late to decide what you want to be

“Hope,” James says. “I think you’ve put one plate too many? There’s you, Lyall, Remus, mum, dad, Lily, Harry and me. That’s eight, provided we actually get Harry to sit at the table, not nine.”

“Oh, really, dear?” Hope replies vaguely. “Oh, well. It’s Christmas. You never know what might happen.” She pats James on the head and walks back to the kitchen.

James stares after her shaking his head, and then walks to Remus, who’s still staring out of the window watching the snow fall.

“James,” Remus sighs as he joins him. “Am I an idiot?”

“Yes,” James replies without skipping a beat. “But idiot or not, seeing you, of all people, being so down at Christmas, of all times, is highly unnerving. Don’t you think some distraction might help? Why don’t you join the others in the kitchen? You love cooking Christmas dinner together!”

“I’m not really in the mood for cooking.”

“Alright. Maybe you can play with Harry? He’s been saying he wants to build a snowman.”

“Nah, I want Harry to enjoy Christmas, I don’t want to affect him with my sour mood.”

“Okay, well, maybe...” James desperately tries to think of something else when the doorbell rings. “You can go see who’s at the door?” He tries desperately.

“It’s probably just Carollers, and I don’t want them to-”

“Remus! Go see who’s at the door!” Fed up, James grabs Remus’ shoulders and pushes him towards the door.

Remus’ eyes widen and his mouth opens and closes without any sound coming out as he stands in the doorway, but at least he doesn’t look angry or annoyed, which is a good thing, Sirius thinks. He came here fully prepared for heartbreak, but needless to say, that isn’t the preferred option.

“Hi,” he says, and he probably should’ve come up with something better than that during the train ride.

“You’re... You’re back,” Remus stammers.

“Yeah,” Sirius says, smiling awkwardly. “I’m sorry for intruding on your Christmas like this. I promise I’ll leave if you don’t want me here.”

“No!” Remus exclaims. “No, I don’t want you to leave. I never wanted you to leave. I was just... being stupid. I was so afraid you’d leave anyway if I asked you to stay that I didn’t dare... I was stupid. I wanted you to stay.”

“Do you still want me to stay? And I don’t mean just for Christmas?”

“You have your whole life in the city. You’d give that all up for Godric’s Hollow?”

“No, I’d give that all up for you.”

“But your job...”

“It’s not a job I particularly like, or particularly care about. As a matter of fact, apart from my little brother, I’ve never had anything in my life I particularly liked or particularly cared about, until a guy with kind eyes and a beautiful smile wearing a gaudy Christmas sweater started stalking me for his scheme of teaching me the True Meaning of Christmas.”

Remus moves forward, wraps his arms around Sirius’ neck and pulls him into a kiss. As their lips meet, Sirius’ shock only lasts a second, then he feels sparks all over, and he wraps his arms around Remus’ waist to pull him closer.

When they break apart, they rest their foreheads together, gazing into each other’s eyes with undisguised love.

“Merry Christmas, Remus,” Sirius whispers.

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

oh beloved writer can you please write a christmas date imagine for will poulter (even though it’s still summer) just pure fluff, where the reader and will go out to like a diner and then go buy a tree for their apartment (it’s their first christmas living together) and set it up and dance to christmas music and it’s super domestic and soft and fluffy thank you bff

Of course, my love! And hey, if Christmas in July can be a thing, so can Christmas in August. And oh boy, I made this one so sweet you might get cavities, so just, beware of that.

~~~~~~~~~~

You were excited, to put it lightly. This was the first Christmas you and you partner, Will, would be having while living together. You knew it was cheesy, but you wanted it to feel special.

You made reservations at this really fancy restaurant in the fanciest part of town. A bit over the top on your part, but you wanted to make this Christmas one to remember fondly.

You still haven't gotten a tree yet, so that was on your to-do list as well. You hoped there would be some nice trees to choose from.

Some people would've probably thought you were going mad with how much you wanted everything to be perfect, and yeah, you kind of were. But you completely ignored your logic and reasoning.

You bought a really nice outfit for yourself to wear to the restaurant, Christmassy but not too Christmassy, you weren't wearing reindeer antlers or red and green bells. It was simple, may or may not to somewhat match Will's outfit that he was going to wear.

With Will's hand in yours, you walked to your car and headed to the restaurant and got there a few minutes early, which was historical for you. You smiled along with Will as you entered the warm building, a pleasant contrast from the winter cold outside. "Hi! Reservation for L/n?" You asked bubbly, the evening already going so well that you were sure nothing could dampen your spirits.

It took a minute for the hostess to check, as the place was fairly busy due to the holidays. "Um, I'm sorry, I don't see your name here."

You immediately tensed, a half a second of anger bolting through you before you simply smiled understandingly. "Can you double check, please? I'm certain it's there, I called this in a week ago." You chuckled nervously.

"I'm sorry, but there is no reservation under L/n."

Your smiled dropped, your eye involuntarily twitching a couple times before your cleared your throat. "That...that can't be right."

Will turned to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's okay. It happens. We can just go somewhere else." He smiled softly. You frowned in response, turning back to the hostess with pleading eyes, only to get a tight lipped smile as another apology.

You hung your head for a second, before walking out of the building at a quick pace, dead silent as you sat back in your car. Will cautiously got into the car, anxiously anticipating your eventual release of your frustration.

"What the fuck?!" You yelled into your steering wheel, causing Will to jump at the sudden outburst, even when he was expecting it. "I booked that table a week ago! Will, you were right next to me when I called the place!" You pleaded to no one, feeling defeated and pissed off. "Ugh..." You drawled out, collapsing against your seat.

Will couldn't help but chuckle at your cute pouting face, reaching over to gently massage your thigh. "It's okay, darling! This is just a minor setback. I'm sure there are other places we can go."

Yes, there were other places you could go, none of them fancy restaurants. You felt even more defeated when you had to settle for some fast food place. This is absolutely not how you wanted this evening to go.

You stared down at your burger and fries with distain. "This should be an overpriced steak at an overpriced fancy restaurant with live music, arrogant chefs and overly nice waiters who wear really fancy suits and ties." You mumbled.

Will raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound quite as nice as being in an almost empty fast food place with no one to bother us. And I quite like my food, I haven't found a single hair in it, so it's practically 5-star."

You rolled your eyes as you chuckled at his silliness. "At least we still get to pick out a Christmas tree, that should be fun."

"Hopefully we won't get hypothermia out in this weather. So, what type of tree are you thinking we get?"

You smiled dreamily. "I've always wanted a full, thick Frasier fir."

"Ambitious. A Frasier fir it is."

It might've been a bit too ambitious, because when you got to one of the only places in town that sold Christmas trees, there were no such trees in sight. They had all been sold out apparently. No worry, there would probably be one at another place. Nope, none there. So, you drove to the last place in town and lo and behold, no thick firs in sight.

"I think the world's against me."

Will trapped you in a hug from behind as you stood dumbfounded at the selection of trees available. Some of them could give Charlie Brown's Christmas tree a run for its money.

"What about that one?" Will pointed towards the corner of the small field you two stood in.

You laughed when you finally saw what he was looking at. The tree was a fir, but it looked so bare that you could call it a Charlie Brown tree. "You can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious." He smirked, letting you go to jog eagerly to the pitiful looking tree. You chuckled sadly as he held onto it, the thing wasn't even as tall as Will, and even skinnier. "Ain't it a beauty?" He said in a slightly Australian accent, almost cringing at himself.

No.

"I guess."

The look of pure childlike joy on Will's face, you couldn't deny him that stupid tree. It was so small, you could probably fit it in your car, but you didn't want to clean up all the needles it would shed. It fastened to the roof of your car easily, too easily.

By the time you had set it up in your living room with Will, the tree kind of grew on you; it was like an ugly dog, so ugly it was cute, you supposed. Once it had all the decorations on, it didn't look too bad, but it still wasn't what you hoped for. It seemed this whole day you planned out to the T, nothing went the way you wanted it to, and that was a bit disheartening. What annoyed you, surprisingly, was Will's overwhelming optimism. Usually, it was endearing, but today was not one of those days where you needed optimism.

"You okay, Y/n?" Will asked intuitively.

"It's just...this day went to shit. How can you be so...perfect?"

Will blushed at your phrasing, but he knew what you meant. "I was annoyed with certain things today, the restaurant issues, for sure. But, it wasn't enough to put me in a bad mood all day. I chose to let it go so that we could have a good time, that's all."

You frowned, suddenly feeling really guilty. "I was in such a bad mood all day." You huffed, taking a seat on your couch. "I ruined this whole day..."

"No!" Will rushed over to you. "I didn't mean it like that, I-"

"I know, but you're right. I shouldn't have acted like such a child. I'm sorry."

Will smiled sadly. "Darling, you certainly did not ruin anything. None of this was your fault and you behaved how any normal person would. But even after all that happened, I still had an amazing time. We had a nice, quiet dinner. And we got our own little Charlie Brown tree." He chuckled. "Didn't you have a nice time too?"

You smiled sheepishly. "I did."

"We don't have to go to the fanciest restaurant or buy the nicest Christmas tree to have a nice time together. We could've stayed inside all day and I wouldn't have cared, just being here with you is what makes me the happiest."

You couldn't help but lean forwards to kiss him, so incredibly grateful that he was in your life. "Well, I'd say our first Christmas will be one to remember."

"Oh, it's not over yet." He added, causing you to furrow your brows in curiosity. He only winked as he walked to the other side of the room, fiddling with the record player.

"No..." You groaned playfully as Last Christmas by Wham! echoed through your apartment.

Will nodded, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. "Oh yeah, come on." He held out his hand to you, motioning for you to take it. You giggled as he started to lip sync the lyrics, shimmying his shoulders as he still waiting for you to take his hand.

"Oh my god." You blushed, finally taking his hand and him instantly pulling you up and grabbing you by the waist to pull you into a hug, violently swaying to the music. "Will!" You laughed uncontrollably.

"What? You don't like my dance moves?" He grinned.

"You're gonna break me if you keep doing that." You grinned back.

Will shook his head, toning down the fast swaying and settled into a relaxing sway, looking into your eyes fondly. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You blushed, resting your head and hiding your face on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat much better music than any Christmas song you've ever listened to.

~~~~~~~~~~

bruh...this...was so fluffy I almost died. I hope me almost dying of fluffiness was worth it to you, @poulterfilms

[forever-rogue]

request: some christmassy idea where marcus moreno brings presents he bought for missy to the shop to get wrapped up bc he cant wrap for shit. And he wants to flirt with reader whos the one whos gonna wrap the presents but for the love of the above he cant. hes stuttering and hes flustered and its cute. And reader is like okay mister "i can use the force", heres my number, call me so we can shedule a date. And hes so shocked about it 😄😭😭😭 thank u patricia! 🌟

I see it's time to write for Mr. Moreno? Excellent 😌 Enjoy!

Marcus Moreno x Fem!Reader; no warnings

Pedro Characters Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he reluctantly returned to the store, the bag of presents in his hand a sign of defeat. How hard it could possibly have been to wrap a few presents? Apparently too hard for someone like Marcus Moreno. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried, oh no, he’d spent several hours the previous evening after Missy had gone to bed attempting to wrap the clothes and other oddly shaped boxes perfectly. But instead of success, all he gained was frustration. 

Instead of another vain attempt at the wrapping, he gave up and threw everything back into the bag and made his mind that he would go back to the small department store and ask...beg if you required it, for you to wrap the gifts. 

He might have been able to save the world on several occasions, but apparently his talents ended at Christmas gift wrapping. Well, he huffed to himself as he pulled open the door, the soft twinkling of bells meeting his ears, everyone had a limit. His just happened to be a little more pathetic than others. 

Super Hero, he reminded himself with each step, he was a fudgin’ super hero for fuck’s sake. But alas, when it came to more domestic things, such as cooking, and wrapping apparently, he was far from super. He was working on it though - spending time each day to make sure he was learning - doing enough - to be the father Missy needed. For her, and himself. Things weren’t always easy, but they were always getting better. 

Although tired from a long day at the office, throwing swords around, as Missy had dubbed it, his face instantly lit up when he spied you behind the counter, an almost bored expression on your face. The last of the Christmas rush was almost over, which meant business had slowed down, which was both a blessing and a curse at the same time. Marcus would have been a liar if he said he didn’t have an ulterior motive for coming back; sure - he wanted the presents wrapped, but let’s be honest, the man was smitten with you. Any excuse to come back and chat with you, even if it was just five minutes was good enough for him. 

He’d known you, casually, for a few years now. You had been Missy’s teacher at school last year, and he knew that you worked the summers and holidays at your parent’s store to give them a hand with the rushes. Sometimes, being the sneaky Heroic he was, he’d made up excuses in the past to come into your classroom to spend a few minutes here and there talking to you. It was hard to believe that anyone could make him nervous, to make his heart flutter and beat like a nervous schoolboy, but there you were. Managing to do it every time. 

But he’d never act on it. No, no, no. That would be downright outrageous. After all, why on earth would you be interested in Marcus Moreno? He couldn’t even wrap a present.

Almost as if you sensed his presence, you looked up from the counter you were organized and offered him a dazzling smile, accompanied by a small wave. He was positive his heart stopped at the sight as he had to remind himself to breath. After a quick inhale and exhale, he marched over to you, ready to be firm, and hell, maybe today he’d finally ask if you wanted to get dinner sometime. Why not, after all? But then he took a good look at your eyes, those soft eyes and that gentle smile and he came undone.

“Hi Marcus,” you beamed at him as he did his best to give you a normal smile in response, “what a pleasure to see a friendly face. How are you?”

“Hi,” he managed to choke out as he calmed himself. How did you have this effect on him? He was a grown man, a man with plenty of experience in dating and love, and yet this one he couldn’t seem to nail down, “I’m fine  - you know what, why lie? I’m tired and I can’t wrap presents for shit. I hate to ask, but could you help me out? I’ve seen you do it for other people and I’m afraid if I try again, it’ll be worse than the first time. It’s been awful - oh my God, I’m so rude. I’m rambling - you look pretty - nice - how are you?”

“Marcus,” you giggled at him, watching as a nervous tinge of pink flushed his cheeks. You put your hand on his, effectively getting him to calm down and shut up, “slow down. It’s okay - I’ve got you covered. I assume work is busy?”

“That’s one way to put it,” he was instantly relieved as you took the presents from and grabbed some wrapping paper to display to him. He nodded at your choice and watching in awe as you made quick work of grabbing the first present and getting to work, “I was about ready to just leave him in the bag and give them to Missy like that.”

“Ahh, it’s not a big deal,” you shot him a quick wink, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it. But then again, I’ve been helping my parents with this stuff for years. Maybe sometime I’ll show you how.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he exhaled as he leaned against the counter and tried to pay it cool. His heart was thumping in his chest so rapidly, he was sure you were able to hear it as well. If you noticed anything out of place, you didn’t show it, “I’ll pay you - whatever you want.”

“Marcus,” you waved him off, “there’s no need. Besides, what are friends for?”

“Friends,” he almost choked on the word as he grinned at the delicate look of concentration on your face. Your brow was furrowed, your tongue peeking out from between your lips as you made sure to get all the measurements just right, “how’s everything been? It’s been a while…”

“I know,” you agreed as you started some ribbon to start curling it, “I miss you coming into my classroom all the time, I miss Missy - it’s not quite the same without the Morenos.”

How much could hint at it before he finally got the bait? You’d harbored a crush on the man for years now, even before you became Missy's teacher. He was a Heroic after all - handsome, funny, smart, and kind. Who wouldn't fall in love with him? You'd hinted at your feelings a number of times and you thought he reciprocated a few times, but you could never be quite sure. And neither of you ever seemed to make a move. You'd come close a few times, but somehow just hadn't...quite gotten there.

“I miss it too,” he agreed quietly, turning his attention to his hands, “Missy doesn’t like her teacher as much this year.”

“That’s because I’m pretty cool,” you teased gently, “you look nice too, by the way. The all black thing - pretty sexy.”

Marcus was sure his heart stopped at your words; you couldn’t seriously have said what he thought you said. Right? Right. He looked at you with wide eyes as you refused to look up from what you were doing in case you had completely overstepped any remaining boundaries. 

“I, umm…” he paused for a moment, chuckling at his own nerves as he moved to stand in front of you, “I’m shit at this. But I, umm...I like you.”

“Marcus,” you stopped what you were doing and set the scissors down to meet his soft brown eyes. He had a small smile on his face, nervous as he watched your expression to try and get a read on the situation. Honestly? He’d rather have taken down another horde of aliens than wait for your response, “it’s about time you said something. I was beginning to think you never would.”

“Oh,” he let a nervous chuckle as your words set in, “oh. Oh?”

“I like you too, Marcus,” you admitted as a warmth flushed over you, “I just...I didn’t know how to say it. I was…”

“Nervous,” you both blurted out at the same time as you both laughed. At least you were on the same page. 

“I haven’t done this in a long time,” he confessed as you nodded in understanding, “I feel like an old fool more than anything...but I’d like to take you out. On a date. A real date. Like you know not just...this, and I’m sorry if this is awkward. Missy’s been telling me to ask you forever and I just feel like -”

“Marcus,” you grinned at him as you reached up and held up a finger to his lips, “you’re rambling again, silly. I’d love to. I’d love to go out with you.”

“Seriously?” his eyebrows raised in surprise as you just nodded. Needless to say, he was not expecting this - any of it. 

“Seriously,” you confirmed, “come on, Mr. Force Hands, give me your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

“Okay,” he looked at you with nothing but soft hope in his eyes as he fished out his phone from his pocket and handed it to you. You let your hand brush over his as you took it and quickly saved your number for him, “I...yeah. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too,” you agreed, “but don’t actually forget to text me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he breathed out easily, “besides, I owe Missy twenty bucks now and she’ll never forget it. We made a bet - she said I’ve never get the nerve to ask.”

“What a pleasant surprise,” you grinned at him, “now come on. Come around the counter and I’ll show you how to wrap properly.”

Marcus shuffled around the counter and you pointed to the spot you had previously occupied. Moving behind him, you paused for a moment before reaching around him to put your hands over his and help guide him. He swallowed thickly at your tender touch, trying to keep himself composed. 

“Now,” you said softly, “do it like this.”

It was definitely not what Marcus had expected to come out of this evening - but he was so glad it did. Finally. 

Maybe not being able to wrap presents wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[jeongjaebae]

No mistletoe required

⇢ Jaehyun x reader  ⇢ 9.3k | AO3 ⇢ a cute and funny holiday college AU (lowkey enemies to lovers)

To your utter surprise and dismay, there's your neighbour. The one directly across from you who keeps turning the decorating into a competition, who happens to be setting up the next batch of lights on their door at this very moment. And that kind of ruins the previously good mood you were in, so you open the door to give them a piece of your mind. 

Why are you still here? Why are you still putting up decorations? Why are you turning this into a competition that I never asked to join— 

"Why are you shirtless." 

Or: There were three things you did not expect to encounter this holiday season. The first was to have someone else staying on campus over the winter break with you. The second, to have this person as your neighbour who tries to one-up you in Christmas decorations. The third, that this said neighbour would be hot.

Not going home for the holidays really wasn't the worst thing in the world. In fact, part of you was looking forward to doing whatever the heck you wanted without your roommates in the dorm, and not having any extended family members around to lie about having a good GPA or significant other to. Not that your GPA wasn't good, but the significant other category might need some work. Either way, you were excited to be able to finally bake Christmas cookies, decorate the entire apartment, and marathon your list of Christmas movies all while wearing your comfiest (ugliest) clothes and being sufficiently inebriated. There would be no one around to judge you while you screamed the lyrics to All I want for Christmas is You while dancing around in your pajamas. There would be no one around you for miles as even the RAs go home for the holidays.

It was like a dream come true.

"Today's going to be the day the rest of the door decorations go up," you announce to no one in particular. That's definitely another benefit of being all alone in this residence building—you could talk to yourself without sounding crazy. "They are long overdue so let's get this party started!"

There really weren't too many decorations left in your possession. You'd brought only a few things from home when you first moved in, like the cute ornament that looked exactly like your dog back home, a bow (for your hair but holiday decor takes priority right now), and a string of fairy lights that was originally for decorating your room but will now be taped onto the front door because you refuse to lose this unspoken decorations contest to the neighbour directly across from you.

This contest had begun a couple of weeks ago when you and your roommates had first put up a wreath on the door. It was already December at that point, so it wasn't exactly too early to start with the decorations, but with finals coming up none of the other students had decorated their doors. You'd thought the wreath that your roommate Rose brought was such a nice touch to remind everyone that the holidays were coming soon and that you'd all pull through with finals. Just a sign of hope and love and all the warm and coziness that you loved about Christmastime.

So when you opened the door later that afternoon and saw an identical wreath on your neighbour's door, you were stunned. You almost thought they stole it at first, but then seeing how yours was still there, that made you question some things. Maybe it was just a coincidence that they happened to have the same wreath, and they only put it up when they were reminded by seeing your wreath.

That was the first time, anyway.

A few days later, your roommates had brought out some pretty Christmas lights to wrap around the wreath. Again, it was just to lift the spirits of everyone during the dreadful time that is finals season. So you guys wrapped the lights carefully around the wreath, making sure that no one would trip on extension cords or anything like that. It ended up looking really nice and you were kind of proud of your festive door.

Until you saw your neighbour's door that also had an added string of Christmas lights.

Even worse, theirs did not simply wrap around the wreath like yours did but framed the entire door instead. It was as if they drew around the door frame with a highlighter because now all the attention would go straight to their door and leave yours completely drowned out.

The third time it happened was with the ornaments. You'd put your dog ornament on the wreath along with the other objects that your roommates had brought, some of which were pretty questionable (Rose's sparkly bottle cap, Jihyo's homemade felt gingerbread man, and Miyeon's earring?), but the overall vibe was still nice. It made the hallway feel more Christmassy than before and you knew that your copycat neighbour would not be able to mimic this.

But somehow they did.

You'd been trying to catch a glimpse of this lame neighbour through the peephole of your door all day, but the moment you stepped away for a much needed bathroom break, that's when their ornaments went up. You had come back from your under 30 seconds of a break and looked through the peephole and gawked at those twinkling ornaments—proper Christmas ornaments! The neighbour had hung them on the string of lights framing the door so that the lights bounced off and looked even brighter, shinier, warmer.

It also made you want to punch a wall.

That had been the week before finals. Your roommates were out of decorations at that point and you wanted to channel your anger into studying, so nothing had been done about the decorations. Unsurprisingly, your neighbours also did not add anything else to their door decor, which definitely squashed any chance of coincidence.

But now that everyone has gone home for the winter break, you were determined to put up the most extravagant decorations and have your neighbours come back to their defeat. The fairy lights in your room were ready for the world to see as you blasted a playlist of Christmas songs at decibels much higher than normally allowed. You had the tape in hand and were ready to go into battle. The door still had a ton of space below the wreath, so you started there and created a Christmas tree shape with the lights, taping them at every corner with the little battery holder acting as a base of the tree. Your bow hair accessory went at the very stop as a makeshift star, and you ripped out a sheet from your spiral lab notebook and cut off the ripped side to use as tinsel for this makeshift tree. It looked nice and cute and was definitely cooler than any traditional decorations.

"Okay, now that that's done I can finally get on with the Christmas cookies," you say to yourself.

The rest of the day was spent on baking some cute sugar cookies using Miyeon's cookie cutters of various non-holiday shapes, and some red and green food colouring which turned your icing into pink and green. So much for Christmas vibes. They were still cute though.

But just after you put the cookies in the oven, that's when you hear the creaking of a door and some shuffling sounds. You even turn down your music the slightest bit to hear what was going on because who could possibly still be here in this building? You had been certain that everyone would be going home and you hadn't heard a sound in days.

To your utter surprise and dismay, there's your neighbour. The one directly across from you who keeps turning the decorating into a competition, who is setting up the next batch of lights on their door at this very moment. You watch for a few seconds through the peephole as this mysterious competitor adjusts the lights on the door just slightly below the wreath, so all you could see was a hand.

And that kind of ruins the previously good mood you were in, so you open the door to give them a piece of your mind.

Why are you still here? Why are you still putting up decorations? Why are you turning this into a competition that I never asked to join—

"Why are you shirtless." You eye him up and down, the sight in front of you temporarily distracting you from the long speech you were planning on bombarding him with. "Um, that's so rude? You're basically giving everyone totally unsolicited naked pictures of you and your...abs, embedded into their minds forever."

That doesn't seem to startle him at all, as he simply stares back at you without missing a beat. "And," he looks at you up and down too, "your ugly Christmas sweater will be ingrained into my mind forever."

"Excuse you?" You weren't even wearing an ugly Christmas sweater though; this was just one of your regular cozy sweaters. "Well, is it hot in here or is it just you?" you spit out, the words dripping with sass.

Wait. What.

That came out totally wrong and was not at all how it sounded in your head.

He pauses for a second too but just breaks into a chuckle. "Why, thank you."

"I meant hot! In your apartment! You're the only one feeling the heat since you're clearly hot enough to be shirtless in the middle of winter!"

The corners of his lips raise the slightest bit along with an eyebrow, and that's when you knew he caught on to the last bit of what you said. "I'm hot enough to be shirtless?"

"You are not hot, okay? Like, opposite of hot. You're so freezing cold that I am going to leave before I get hypothermia" you lied through your teeth. Anyone who could say that he's not hot would be lying but that doesn't mean you'd ever admit it.

"So I'm too cool for you?"

"Bye, boy."

And with that you slam your door shut and collapse right against it.

That's the neighbour who's been secretly competing against your holiday decor? You hadn't pictured anyone in particular when you thought about the lame neighbour putting up decorations on their door, but this guy has got to be the farthest thing possible from anything in your realm of expectations. Even though you spent most of that interaction avoiding looking at him at all, you definitely saw enough. More like too much. But surely a guy who looks like every girl's quarterback frat boy crush with muscles like The Rock couldn't possibly be interested in being less than five feet away from Christmas decorations? And what was he still doing here anyways, away from all the friends and family back home?  

On top of that, now you had to continue this dumb contest for the rest of the break since you refused to let someone like that win at this.

***

The next day consisted of waking up to a drained laptop battery, your list of Christmas movies marked as complete, and no memory of having watched any of them because you'd fallen asleep near the beginning of the movie marathon. Cookies were left half eaten on the plate with crumbs everywhere and your mug had stains from the dried remnants of hot chocolate. It takes you a minute to collect yourself and for a good while, you'd forgotten about the awkward encounter with shirtless neighbour.

Until you hear him singing.

It wasn't a song that you recognized but that didn't matter because you were dazed. Firstly, that boy could sure sing. Yesterday his talking voice hadn't left any impressions on you probably because he hadn't said much and you were too busy noticing the insults that came out of that mouth, but his singing voice today is a whole different story. It's fairly deep but somehow still soft, and its timbre fits perfectly with the smooth R&B song he's singing. Of course you'd never admit it, but this was such a turn on and you did not know how to handle this information.

And secondly, it turns out the walls were not as soundproof as you thought, which meant he probably heard everything from your high notes screaming session to you talking to yourself about beating that dumbass neighbour at this stupid decorating contest. It was embarrassing, to say the least, but on the other hand, if he'd heard you through the walls then maybe he would know better than to sing and risk having you hear. Well, unless he's turning that into a competition too which may be a good possibility given how competitive he seems.

After eating an abnormally late breakfast at 3pm, you went to take out the large pile of trash that was overflowing the garbage can. It was long overdue but had just become an object in the background as everyone went through finals in the past few weeks. In short, it stank and was ruining your holiday mood.

There was something else that was ruining your holiday mood though. The first thing you see when you open the door to go take out the garbage... was your shirtless neighbour. Only he wasn't shirtless this time; he had a tee on but was still exposing those toned arms as he was, to your disbelief, still putting up some more decorations on their door. It seems like he actually did not copy your fairy lights idea yesterday because today he's taping up Christmas gift wrapping paper on the door. As if his apartment was a gift to anyone! You were sure that was a fire hazard or something but there were no RAs around to even report this to.

He freezes when you open your door and makes the most awkward eye contact with you for a few seconds too long.

"Wow, nice to see you in a shirt today," you say with heavy sarcasm dripping off those words. "Feeling kind of cold?"

"Nice to see you too." He doesn't take the bait but entirely changes the subject, a neutral but inviting expression on his face. "Hey, are your roommates here too?" And the dimples. Ugh, you could not look away from the dimples.

"What?" You pause. "Why?"

"Oh it's nothing, but I just keep hearing you talking to someone."

That's when it was your turn to freeze like a deer in headlights.

The thin walls. The singing this morning. Was it all so that he could make fun of you talking to yourself?!

"Excuse you? Just so you know, I still have more decorations that are much better than your corny wallpaper here. You aren't a gift, boy."

He simply chuckles but then gives you such a blinding smile. You hadn't paid attention to his face yesterday but with the shirt on today, it was a little easier to observe this competitive neighbour. And his smile, wow. "I'll be looking forward to seeing those."

Then you close the door and completely forgot about taking out the trash. Not the way this happens each time because of how much he infuriates you! But now it was too late to go out there because you'd be forced to run into him again, so you decided to wait until after he was done his door.

***

The video call comes at a good time as you'd finished a couple of Christmas movies and your fancy homecooked dinner of mac and cheese. It's not unexpected as your best friend and roommate, Rose, probably has some updates for you after her wild family gatherings.

"Hey, girl! How's it going?" You pick up on the first ring. You were surprisingly glad for the human interaction after being alone for nearly a week, but you suspect that her main motive for calling was to sneak away from her family holiday party.

"Wow, look at you all dressed up in festive pajamas!" She squeals. "They're so cute!"

"Thanks girl! Gotta be festive around here." Maybe you'd be embarrassed if it were anyone else on that video call, especially if they were all dressed up like Rose today, but she's been your best friend since middle school and you've all seen each other in plenty of embarrassing outfits on the daily. "How's your holiday going?"

"It's been good but pretty tiring. You would not believe the amount of drama my cousin has been trying to start." Rose breaks out into a chuckle. "But how have you been surviving there all alone without us?"

"Christmas movie marathons and cookies all day! It's been so nice to finally get a break from school and people, you know? Oh, except there's this annoying neighbour still here who keeps trying to compete with me for best decorated door or something." You roll your eyes. "Can you believe it? Who would do such a thing?"

"Oh, he's still doing that?"

"Yeah, unfortunately? I keep running into him too, like every time I step out—wait. You know him?"

She stares at you for just a second too long before responding. "W-what do you mean?"

"You asked if he's still here, but I hadn't even mentioned this neighbour's gender or anything yet."

"Oh nah," she brushes it off, "I didn't mean anyone specific but... Y/N?"

"Yes?"

Her voice drops down to a whisper as she leans in towards the camera. "Are you talking about Jaehyun?"

"Jaehyun?"

"You know, the one who looks like he should be walking the runway even in sweats and a tee."

You don't say anything but shoot her a questioning look.

"Oh come on. Broad shoulders, toned arms, probably has abs. Dimples and a nice face to top it off?"

"His name is Jaehyun?" you say lamely. "Wow, I was expecting something cooler. Like even Jay or something."

"So he is who you were talking about? Isn't he so hot?"

"Well," you hesitate. You would never admit that you actually saw the abs that she was imagining. Or that he does indeed belong at a photoshoot way more than he does in front of his door hanging ornaments. "He's okay I guess?"

"Just okay?"

You nod slowly. "Why? Don't tell me you... like him or something."

"What? No, Y/N, of course not! He's in my bio tutorial and we happened to bump into each other while walking back to the dorm one day, but that's it. Nothing to worry about."

"Okay, sure?" you say, unconvinced.

"Seriously! He's interested in someone else, okay?"

"You guys are close enough for him to tell you that?"

"I—" Rose stops and turns around to look behind her. "Shoot, my cousin found me. Sorry Y/N, I gotta go! Bye—"

Then the call ends. Even though you definitely did not see her cousin in the background.

It was nice to talk to your best friend again, but that conversation leaves you feeling strange. You're confused as to why she would word vomit about how hot Jaehyun was, then immediately try to convince you that she didn't like him in that way. You've all had crushes throughout the years and told each other eagerly about them, so why was she adamantly denying this one? If this had been a conversation in person, you'd probably be able to tell whether she was telling the truth or not based on the appearance or absence of stars in her eyes, but it was difficult to tell since it was a low quality video call after all. Maybe you'll grill her about it once she gets back.

That wasn't all though. There was a feeling you couldn't quite pinpoint, but it wasn't positive. Maybe you were slightly bothered by the fact that Rose hadn't told you about this crush? Or maybe you were feeling left out because she somehow knew this rival neighbour really well while you were left in the dark, trying to figure out who kept copying your Christmas decorations. That's probably it—you were disappointed that Rose hadn't told you that she knew the culprit all along!

Then another thought hits you when you're least expecting it. He's single. It's something that never even crossed your mind since you just started assuming that hot people at this age were all off the market and you'd die all alone. Not that him being single has anything to do with you not dying alone, but maybe Rose has a chance now if she really liked him. Nah, she's too good for a cutthroat Christmas decorator like him.

After washing your stack of dirty dishes in the sink, you finally take out the trash but not before checking for enemies through the peephole. Luckily enough, shirtless neighbour, Jaehyun, was not there. Unfortunately enough, his door actually looked quite nice with the wrapping paper on it. He chose one on the simpler side so that it wouldn't clash with the ornaments but it matched with the lights on the doorframe so well that it made you feel warm and fuzzy inside for just a second until you remembered whose door this was.

And then you remembered the bluff you so confidently stated earlier today.

So now you find yourself staring at the storage box at the top shelf of your closet because of that bluff you'd made so confidently earlier. The reality was that you weren't sure if you even had anything useful in this storage box but had to check for the sake of that bluff. You refused to lose to him at decorating, but even more than that, you refused to admit that he was right. So up the step ladder you went, standing so carefully as to not tip over and fall while dragging down everything with you. The top shelf was still quite high despite your height boost and tiptoes were still needed to reach the big cardboard box. You hoped that it was at least light but don't quite remember what you'd packed in there, so you grabbed it by the two sides and began slowly shifting it towards the edge of the shelf.

The last thing you register was hearing your own voice. Screaming very loudly.

Adrenaline coursing, blood roaring, heart pounding. You don't feel the impact as you hit the carpeted floor, nor the step ladder and the storage box and all the other items in your closet tumbling after you. It becomes a big mess on the floor of your room, looking like the closet vomited out half its contents. Unfortunately, most of it was on top of you so the clothing did nothing to cushion your fall. You would probably be feeling the ache tomorrow but for now, there was something even worse to deal with.

"Are you okay?" a voice suddenly asks. You nearly scream again. "What's going on?"

"I—um." The state of shock was still affecting your mind, so you simply decided to point up for your not-shirtless neighbour to see. "Spider."

And there it was, all of its eight legs attached to your wall right beside the box you were getting. You could've touched it! Your hand totally could've brushed it! The thought of it makes you squeeze your eyes shut and suppress a shiver.

"Wow, a big one," he says as he looks around and finally decides on some random tissue you had lying on your desk. He kills it in one swift motion, making sure not to leave any of its... bodily remains on your wall. Then he goes to dispose of it as you sit there wondering if this was all a dream and that someone actually dealt with your spider problem and made it look so easy.

Despite the rivalry between the two of you, at that moment, there was nothing more attractive than a guy who could kill bugs for you. The abs were just a bonus.

"All gone; nothing to worry about now." Jaehyun reaches out a hand. "But are you okay? That sounded like quite the fall."

"Yeah, just fine." You gingerly take his hand as your head is still spinning and he pulls you out of the giant pile. You're thankful for his firm grip but what you notice instead is how soft and big his hand is.

He catches you when you stumble. "Careful," he puts his arm around you and guides you to the bed. "Wait, you're bleeding."

"What?"

"Stay right here. I'll go get a first aid kit."

You sigh as he leaves, suddenly feeling exhausted and actually glad to be taken care of for once. The thought of Christmas decorations leaves your mind and is replaced by the feeling of his arm around you, the faint smell of his body wash, how he reached the spider so easily without even stretching too far and certainly without using the step stool. And now he's getting a first aid kit for you? This definitely must be a dream.

"You didn't hit your head, right?"

Oh. Right. That was probably why your thoughts are all strange.

Jaehyun settles into the chair opposite you, alcohol wipe and cotton swab in hand. "This cut must've been from the corner of the box. Might sting a bit."

You hardly paid attention to anything he just said because suddenly there's the way he leans towards you so, so closely. The rest of the world starts to blur into the background as you feel his hand gently brush your skin, the worry and care in his eyes so genuine. Any feelings of self consciousness seem to melt away, the close distance between you not uncomfortable but rather perfect for slowly leaning in and—

"Ow!" you hear in your own voice again. He'd started cleaning the area on your left cheek with the alcohol wipe and it was the sting that seemed to jolt you from the strange thoughts.

Maybe you really did hit your head because what was all that?

"Sorry," he flashes a smile and has the audacity to laugh at your pain. "Need to make sure this won't get infected."

"You brought this first aid kit from your place?" you ask dully.

"Well, didn't know where you keep yours so..." He opens a tube of ointment and squeezes it carefully onto the cotton swab.

"Wait, how did you even get here in the first place? No, why did you come here?"

The smile on his face only grows. "Your door was unlocked, obviously. And I heard you scream followed by several loud thuds. Is that good enough?"

"Yeah, but why did you come here? I would've been just fine."

"I had to make sure that my lovely neighbour wasn't dead, alright? Otherwise who's going to continue our little holiday contest and lose?"

"Okay, first of all, you would lose. Second, you should've left me for dead," you grumble. "No one wants to participate in your stupid contest."

"Oh, come on. I thought you were enjoying it since you promised to show me all the decorations you still have." He opens a bandage and places it ever so gently on your cheek. "All done."

"I could've done that myself you know."

At that, he raises an eyebrow at you, grin still plastered on his face. "You really would've killed that spider that caused all of this?"

"How dare you—I might've? But you caused all of this actually. If it weren't for that dumb competition then why would I be up in my closet looking for that box of stuff?"

It was true enough. You wouldn't have looked for this box and you wouldn't have seen that spider. And he would absolutely not be here dealing with you battle scars.

"Oh." Surprisingly enough, that smile he had on disappears and he actually looks kind of guilty. "I'm sorry."

"Right."

"No, really. I feel bad that this happened because of something so silly. Let me make it up to you; no more competitions, no more decorations."

You almost heave a sigh in relief after hearing those words. It was like a dream come true as you've wanted nothing more than to have this decoration obligation off your back, though not if it was because he assumed you were going to lose.

So you're still suspicious.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?"

"Hmm. Let me treat you to a meal?"

You look him up and down. "I'd rather stay in."

"We can stay in and get takeout or delivery?"

"I'd rather eat alone."

"Oh come on." He has the audacity to pout at you now. "What's the point of spending the holidays alone?"

"Well, actually I've been having a lot of fun on my own."

"But doesn't it get... lonely?"

Maybe. You shake your head. "Not really."

He heaves a dramatic sigh. "How about just one night? And if you really hate it that much then I won't bother you again."

You sigh too, equally as dramatic. "Fine. But only because I'll get to beat you at whatever games you have planned."

"I'd love to see that." The grin is back on his face in full force, dimples and eyes both seeming to twinkle.

"But why do you even want to spend time with me?"

"Well, we're the only two people on campus and we happen to be neighbours?"

You stifle your laugh at his goofy expression. "Okay, fine. Please don't make it weird though."

"Weird how?"

"You know, those apocalyptic stories about the last two people on earth having to do you-know-what in order to survive and procreate and all that."

If he had a drink in his mouth, you're sure it'd be sputtering out by the way he half laughs and half chokes.

"Um, no. I have not heard of anything like that, but I think we can confirm that I'm not the one making it weird right now."

"Hey, you were the one rude enough to go walking around shirtless!"  

"I'm just kidding." He smiles that dazzling dimpled smile again. "No competitions, no decorations, and no weirdness. Deal?"

You purse your lips. "Deal, but also, shirts are a must. And pants. Don't you dare pull anything funny."

"Deal. Oh, but before I forget," he pulls out his phone and unlocks it. "I hope this isn't considered part of the weirdness."

"Hmm." It's the 'add new contact' page on his phone that he hands you, of course. "I'll let you off the hook just this once."

You add your name and number as well as a description of 'your amazing neighbour who's better at decorating' before handing it back to him.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. I'm—"

"Jaehyun."

"You remem—you know my name?" His eyes widen, an eyebrow raised.

You shrug. "Yeah, Rose gave me your name."

"Rose talked to you about me?" Eyes flicker briefly and the corners of lips settle into a sort of frown. "What else did she say?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because—why were you guys even talking about me?"

"She literally called to say that there is absolutely nothing going on between you guys." You roll your eyes at just remembering that strange conversation. "But in any case, I'll have you know that I think she's way too good for you."

"And I'll have you know that there's absolutely nothing going on between her and me," Jaehyun crosses his arms, eyebrows furrowed. Yet at the same time he somehow looked relieved, body slack against the wall and not tense like a moment ago.

"Whatever you say," you shrug. "Oh, but she did mention there's someone you're interested in."

"What?!"

You definitely save his name in your phone as 'stupid shirtless decorating neighbour'.

***

The next few days consisted of some simple exchanges through text. The hangout was planned for Christmas Eve which was still a few days away, and as much as you didn't exactly want to be talking to him, you find your gaze wandering to your phone whenever it lights up with his name flashing across the screen.

Yes, it was just a hangout, not a date. You'd be staying in, acting casual, and there would be no weirdness involved as the two of you had agreed. Besides, you didn't even like him. At this point you could only bring yourself to admit that he was quite attractive and that your annoyance with him might've died just a little when you watched him save you from the spider and treat your wound. But now there was a new annoyance stemming from how rudely this guy was showing off all of his perfection (all six feet of it!) right in your face. Who does he think is he? You just know that you're lucky he isn't in any of your classes because this competition might've started way earlier with test grades or whatnot.

The point was that you couldn't wrap your head around why he would suddenly want to hang out with you. Based on his previous actions, it was to probably beat you in various video games or in something that should not even be a competition.

You decide to video call Rose to ask her for advice on how to better prepare you for this war.

"Did I interrupt?" is the first thing you say when Rose's face comes on the screen. She seems to be at the table in the middle of a meal, but it didn't look like a restaurant nor did you recognize it as anywhere in her house. "I can call back later."

"Nah, it's fine! How are things going on your side?"

Before you could answer, you see a guy walk into the frame. And recognize him immediately. You lower your voice, "Are you with our TA?"

"Um..." She only shrugs at you but you could see her flashing a smile at the guy who walks out of the frame. Who you're sure is the TA of your psychology class.  

"Rose, are you on a date with our TA?" you whisper.

"Sorry, I'll be right back," she says to him, before the background changes and you could see her walking to a different room. "Okay, yes, you caught me."

"How long has this been going on for?"

"Not long at all! It's a long story though and I'll tell you in person first thing when I get back. But hey, didn't I tell you that there was nothing going on between me and Jaehyun?"

"That's the first thing you decide to bring up?"

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew." She rolls her eyes. "Anyways, how are things going over there?"

You sigh deeply, ready to launch into the drama that is your life. "I may or may not have a hangout with him in a couple of days."

"What?!" she shrieks, making you nearly throw your phone. Her loud voice also invokes an 'are you okay?' from your TA, which you still could not wrap your head around. "Wow, that was quick."

"Calm down, girl, it's just a hangout. And yes, it's way too quick because I don't even know him? Don't know why he would want to hang out but I'm guessing it's probably to turn everything in a competition."

"Just because of that thing with the door decor?" She laughs. "I think you're reading too much into it. Just enjoy the holidays with some company! Besides, how do you know he doesn't want this to be a date?"

"Well, we agreed that there would be nothing weird, and also, doesn't he like someone already? So it'll just be chill and casual."

"Where are you guys going for this?"

"Literally nowhere," you stifle a laugh at the thought, "just his place right across the hall."

She snorts, "Oh man, good luck to him cleaning that up."

"Why, is it like super messy or something?" You wouldn't be surprised as it's a boys' dorm after all.

"Y/N, it's a next level mess in there, and nothing sparks joy. Trust me, Marie Kondo would definitely lose her mind seeing that mess of a place."

"You've been over to his place?"

"For a bio project! You'd think he could've picked the library or something but no, I had to trip over multiple piles of clothes lying around." She rolls her eyes, a smile on her face. "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking to you about all this. Don't worry! It'll be fun."

"I sure hope so?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

"Well if you really want to keep up with this contest of yours, I have an idea. I mean, only if you want to get back at him for the decorating thing or whatever stunt he pulls. Just in case."

"Um. I'm listening."

She leans closer to the camera, looking ready to spill some big secret. "You guys should make it a formal event. Get all dolled up—don't give me that look; I know you've missed dressing up since before finals. Anyways, get your fancy dress and makeup on and see who can clean up better. I know you've got some skills, so this is something you'd definitely win."

"But we're not even going out," you whine, "it's literally going to be twenty feet away."

"It's just an excuse to dress up, Y/N. Besides, if it's at his place you won't be freezing in your dress."

"I don't know—I feel like this kind of violates our 'nothing weird' rule."

She shrugs, "Well, it's only a competition if you're winning." Then she flashes you one of her hundred-watt smiles. "Just ask him. Okay, I gotta go. Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah, sure."

***

Jaehyun agrees to it, to your surprise.

You're not sure what kind of reaction he had as it was all done through text, but he didn't ask anything and just went along with it.

When Christmas Eve finally comes around, you pick out the most glamorous dress in your closet with some pieces of jewelry to match with it. The silvery material shimmers and glitters, bouncing light in so many directions it seems to make you radiate a type of confidence you could only wish you had. It was something you've never even worn before because of how revealing it was, but you'd brought to college with you in case of special events. And well, even though this was definitely not a special event, it still turned out to be a good decision because maybe you'd be able to beat him at his own game of so rudely showing off.  

But the moment you knock on his still gift-wrapped door is when you knew that these contests never go very well for you.

"What. Is. All. This." were the first words out of your mouth as you stood there in shock. In fear. In awe.

"Hmm? You said you wanted it to be a fancy event, so I just made it fancy...?"

"I—"

You had no words for this.

The lighting was dimmed with only the flickering candles on a tabletop and fairy lights swirling right above it creating a soft glow in the room. There was a beautiful red tablecloth with expensive looking plates ready to be served with whatever food was behind the delicious smell remaining in the air. A bottle of red wine and empty wine glasses. His apartment was spotless and not at all what you imagined it to look like, especially after Rose's spiel the other day about how messy it was. You don't doubt he spent a lot of time and effort to clean the place and set all this up, but this was way beyond anything your imagination could've thought of.

And lastly, there was him. If you'd just expected him to simply have a shirt on, he definitely went above and beyond the low expectations you had. Here he was standing in a white dress shirt tucked into black dress pants. Sleeves rolled up. Hair gelled up and slicked back. There was no ounce of imperfection in him or in this entire set up, and suddenly the outfit you picked out seems so insignificant. You could already taste the disappointment of losing a battle you'd had all intentions of winning.

Another thing that worried you was that this didn't look like the setting for a hangout. This looked like the type of place rich people eat at, where proposals happen, where anniversaries are celebrated, where you might even run into a celebrity. You definitely shouldn't have listened to Rose's advice because now it just seems like you played yourself.

"Do you not like it?"

"No, it's fine but Jaehyun, it's just—a little weird."

"A little weird? Yeah, I thought so too." He looks down, leaning against the wall as if unsure where he was supposed to go, what he was supposed to do. Not that far from your own situation.

"I shouldn't have asked for this fancy hangout," you say under your breath, then quickly change the subject before things continued down this slippery slope of awkwardness. "Anyways, I don't see a tree in here. What happened, Mr. I-have-better-decorations-than-you?"

"No tree this year, but I do have a gingerbread kit?"

"And what, were you going to put that on your door too?" You roll your eyes at him. "Let's put it together it right now."

"It was definitely an option but you're the one who wanted the fancy date." He shrugs at you innocently.

"I just wanted a chance to dress up, okay? You can't possibly comment on this," you gesture at the dress, "the way you made fun of my sweaters."

There's no expression on his face as he gives you a glance over then quickly looks away. "You look...good."

"Thanks, I know." You do a hair flip in his face just for emphasis. "Okay, let's get to it! And would you turn some lights on already?"

It turns out, decorating a gingerbread house became a lot like decorating the door to your apartment. Unintentionally. It's not like you were highly competitive by nature, but there's something about his calm demeanour, his laidback gaze, and the way his lips curl at the corners that irks you because you wanted to break down those walls and see something real. Who does he think he is, looking and acting so perfect on your supposedly casual hangout?

Besides, it wasn't your idea to see whose side of the gingerbread house looks better.

"We must look so silly doing this," you comment. "Two people all dressed up in fancy clothes just to build a gingerbread house."

"It's totally part of today's itinerary of fancy activities. Just look at how fancy my side is?" He turns the tray so you could see it. "It's looking like a mansion over here."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at him but you'd expected nothing less. "Then I guess it would suck if someone decided to ruin it."

Holding his gaze as if a challenge, you take the tube of pink icing in your hand and squeeze it generously all over his side of the gingerbread house. It was like a thick coat of fluffy pink clouds on the roof, in the yard, and all over the windows.

His jaw drops. "You. Did. Not."

"I think I did," you tease, the biggest smile you've worn in days on your lips from just getting a reaction out of him. "And I'll do this too." He definitely does not expect it when the huge blob of the pink icing on your finger gets dabbed onto his cheek.

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N." That's the last thing Jaehyun says before he starts chasing you down with a tube of blue icing in his hands.

Then it becomes a game of running around the apartment in circles, occasionally getting close enough to place another wad of icing on him but also for him to cover you with it. Until you decide to grab the icing sugar and use that as your next weapon.

The first pinch of it lands on his face and coats it like a foundation far too light. The image of him— stopped in his tracks, lips pursed and trying to blow the sugar off, blinking with disbelief—was enough to supply you a year of happiness so that's when you let your guard down and pause to wholeheartedly laugh at him. But that's also when the icing sugar came flying at you.

In the end, both of your fancy clothes and tidied hair ended up being coated with icing sugar, as well as the apartment he'd put so much effort into cleaning. And you didn't mind at all for it worked in giving you a glimpse of someone real behind the mask of perfection that he had been wearing in the few times you'd seen him so far. Someone who isn't just abs and a pretty face, nor just competitions and winning.

Basically, someone you could like.

Dinner passes by in a breeze with delicious foods and surprisingly easy conversation. Maybe it should've felt like an awkward first date with how little you knew about each other and how you've barely seen each other before this point, but it wasn't like that at all. It was hard to define because it wasn't quite like talking to an acquaintance, yet friendship would be too tight of a term to describe this relationship. He felt familiar, like an old friend that you knew you could share everything with despite knowing him no better then a stranger. But perhaps that was from the amount of wine you both drank; while it wasn't your drink of choice, it was definitely helpful in facilitating a lot of laughter as you kept breaking out in giggles and he definitely couldn't keep a straight face.

Time was slowing as the two of you collapsed on the couch afterwards, satisfied from a hearty meal. You found yourself suddenly dreading the inevitable end to your time here, though the warmth of the wine pushes that thought away.  

"If we were outside, that would've totally been a snowball fight," you mention, looking out the window where fluffy snowflakes started to float through the air. It seemed like a Christmas miracle for it to be snowing so unexpectedly but maybe this year will give you a beautiful white Christmas.

The corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles so brightly even with the dim lighting of the room. "Then we could've also been making snow angels or a fort."

"Sorry for dirtying your floor though." You couldn't help but giggle. "It was so clean before all this."

"Don't worry, this isn't even as bad is it usually is," he confesses with a laugh.

"Yeah, Rose told me all about that."

"She did? Oh I'm so going to kill her."

The two of you burst out laughing at that, leaning over in a way that has your hand lightly brushing against his.  

"It's not all terrible though. It almost looks like it snowed in here too," you say, admiring the sprinkles of icing sugar scattered all across the floor that looks nothing like actual snow, but it's nice to think of it that way. "Icing sugar everywhere."

Everything you look at seems to glow and sparkle with the heat of the wine still swirling through your body, heart racing, cheeks hot, the world spinning just slightly. And it's not like you were completely drunk, but instead it felt more like you were drunk on life with small, happy thoughts bubbling through your veins—how cozy this place was, how it's the holidays, how you actually enjoyed spending time with Jaehyun and how things turned out much better than you could've possibly imagined. It was nothing like the image of competitive gaming with the frat boys that Rose had put in your mind; this was the most romantic thing that anyone's ever done for you even if it wasn't intending to be more than a casual hangout.

Then there was how attractive Jaehyun looked as he's seated right beside you, hair dishevelled from earlier, a faint pink dusting his face, shirt unbuttoned just low enough to expose the top of his chest. Icing sugar at the corner of his lips where a faint smile rests.

When you look back up, his eyes meet yours and you have to urge to quickly look away, cheeks blazing from knowing you'd been caught staring a moment too long. But instead, a sudden stroke of courage compels you to hold his gaze, perhaps to see a reaction, perhaps as a question silently lingering in the room for much of the night.

"Mhm, it's beautiful," he says softly, still not moving his gaze from where it rests on you. "You still have some right here," he says softly, leaning in slightly as his hand brushes across your heated cheeks. Everything seems to happen in slow motion when he reaches your bottom lip, thumb grazing gently.

And suddenly it was like a repeat of what happened just days earlier. When he meets your eyes again this time, his dark pupils are twinkling in an answer to your question, luring you into their gravity until you're sinking, eyes closing, slowly getting lost in him.

Sparks fly at the slightest brush of his lips on yours and that's enough to abruptly drag you out of the moment you were swept into.

"Wait, Jaehyun—we agreed not to make things weird."

As much as you wanted to just kiss him right then and there, there was still some part of your mind that was telling you to stay away from this slippery slope. That things will be different after the rose-coloured lenses of alcohol and lust fade, that the weird that you both had tried so hard to avoid would end up happening and ending badly.

"Um, right. Sorry." He looks away, refusing to meet your eyes as his cheeks redden, unrelated from the wine. "Y/N... it's just that I've liked you for so long."

Out of all the things you thought he would say, this was nowhere near any of it. His words catch you totally off guard and seem to immediately sober you up.

"What? What do you mean?"

He sighs softly, a hand running through his hair and a hand on yours, tentatively.

"I'm not sure if you remember but we went to the same middle school." Jaehyun pauses, his eyes searching yours for a reaction but you don't dare breathe, waiting for him to continue. "I know this was so long ago and it shouldn't even matter anymore but middle school wasn't really a good time for me."

You take his hand in yours, encouraging him to go on.

"Kids could be so cruel back then, you know?" He smiles sadly. "But you were the only person who showed me such kindness. I could never forget that, Y/N."

"Middle school?"

He confirms with a small nod and that's when you think back. Middle school wasn't a good time for you either and it probably wasn't for anyone, but nothing in particular stood out in your mind. You had a small group of friends back then and got good grades. You were in the school's band and might've been teacher's pet one year. There wasn't exactly anyone bullying you, but there was one girl who was mean and made up rumours about you and some guy you didn't even know. That guy turned out to be really nice though, and the two of you ended up as good friends as a result of that rumour. But all that ended when his family moved right before high school and you never saw him or contacted him again.  

"Sorry, I don't really recall. Were you in my class? There really weren't any boys in my life back then, like the only guy that I can recall is Hyunnie." You smile just thinking about the memories. "He was a good guy. Not sure what happened to him but I kind of liked him."

Jaehyun says nothing but you could see a hint of a smile that he was trying to hold back.

"What, you also know Hyunnie?"

He still remains silent, this time shrugging his shoulders the tiniest bit as he bites his lips.

"Then? Wait—" You gasp when it hits you. "Wait. We all called him Hyunnie but... Hyunnie. Jaehyun. That's—no," you shake your head, "there's no way. That's impossible."

"Y/N," he weaves his fingers with yours.

"You're joking." You stare at him to try to put the pieces together. The Hyunnie you remembered was a small, chubby boy with glasses so big they seem to cover his whole face while his bangs would cover the rest of it as if seeming to hide him from the world. Maybe initially you just wanted to support him as the rumours tied the two of your together, but after getting to know him better you realized he was very kind and genuine. And that's when your admiration for him started.

"Remember the secret code names we had? And the glow in the dark watch? And our mad minute competitions?"

"You're Hyunnie," you breathe, still shocked.

"Yeah," he whispers.

"But—why didn't you say anything at the time?"

"Because I knew you wouldn't feel the same," he looks away, not meeting your eyes. "I thought moving away would help me get rid of my feelings...but it didn't work."

"Why were you so sure about that? Why wouldn't I feel the same?"

"Is it not obvious? I—wasn't exactly someone you would be proud to be with. You were so sweet and popular and gorgeous. You had so many people wanting to be with you, and I—I was nothing.

"Don't say that! I was so happy that you were one of my closest friends." You pause. "Also, how could you be so wrong?" You roll your eyes at him, at all the silly things that once felt like the end of the world but are now so trivial when looking back.

"Was I wrong?"

"Yes! I liked you too, okay? I don't care what you look like. Jaehyun, you don't know how hard it was for me after you left without a trace."

"I'm sorry. I can only promise you that it will never happen again." Then he pouts. "Also, I worked so hard for these abs just to hear you say you don't care what I look like. Wow, I'm hurt."

That makes you burst out laughing. "They're definitely nice, but you are worth so much more than what you look like. And don't think that I wouldn't like you for who you are."

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning in just a little closer.

"Okay."

"Never think that you're not good enough."

A hand cupping your cheek, tracing your jaw. Even closer.

"Okay."

"And don't ever leave me like that again."

His lips hesitate just for a moment.

"Okay."

Then they're crashing on yours, the electricity between you crackling so loud it blocks out the rest of the world as your mind is only filled with Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun. His lips are sweet like the cotton candy you had back in seventh grade, lingering on your teeth at the amusement park, turning his tongue bright blue. His touch is gentle, ebbs and flows like the ocean during the eighth grade beach trip, water gently lapping at your feet, sand between your toes and between entangled fingers. His scent surrounds you like a warm hug on a cold day, like a hoodie too big to fit your shoulders while sitting outside of the school after the dance. All the memories flooding back make your mind spin; the things you've forgotten, the ones you've buried, and the fragments that he'd taken when he left, now brought back to their rightful place.

As the clock struck twelve, there were only whispered words of Merry Christmas in between lingering kisses, racing hearts, brushes of bare skin.

It wasn't weird like you were afraid tonight would go. What you once thought to be awkward and strange turned out to be so right, so perfect. Sure, it might hurt to know that there was all this lost time between you, but now you could make up for that by spending the rest of it getting to know each other again. Learning and relearning each other until there was only a seamless connection between the past and the present, an invisible red string tying the two of you together.

And maybe you did lose all these competitions to him but they never really mattered to you anyways especially when you gained back an old friend, a first love, a soulmate.

[snapefiction]

Can I request a Snape x Reader where the reader gets pregnant and reveals her pregnancy in the form of a Christmas gift, maybe some cute baby kittens? 🥺 absolutely love your work, and thought to keep it christmassy!

A/N: Thank you so much for your compliment and for this cute request! I hope you like the way this one turned out! ❤️

❤️ Please remember that English isn’t my native language and that my Writings will include Mistakes and maybe weird formed sentences. ❤️

Word count: 2189

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, Swearing

Due to your Job at the tea shop at Diagon alley you always got very busy around the Christmas Holidays. Starting at the end of November the Wizards, Witches, goblins and a lot of more magic beings started to flood the small shop only to get the best tea in whole England, atleast that's what Severus your longterm boyfriend called it. Severus was a Potions Professor at Hogwarts one of the most popular schools for magic. The two of you met around 6 years ago when he ran into your shop only to get a bag of tea. He was very late and you actually already had closed but when your gaze met his you fell for him. That's why you let him in your shop after closing time to buy the last pack of peppermint tea. On the Next day he came back early in the morning as the first costumer of the day only to buy some more tea. This continued two weeks long until he had every variation of tea at his kitchen and finally dared to ask you out. Since then the both of you have been inseparable. The both of you never fought- you always somehow agreed with each other on every topic. Even though he might be a little older than you are, eleven years to be exact, he always shared your opinions. 

That's why you knew exactly what to get for Severus on Christmas and what not. To bring more happiness into the small house at Spinners end the both of you always thought about adopting a cat. At first Severus was a little bit skeptical but when he saw that little kitten at the animal shelter in Cokesworth he fell in love with a little lady named Ally. He was crazy about her and you had never seen him this happy about something before. Because the Owls approached shortly before Christmas this year and you couldn't take some time off before the 24th of December you had to decide that Ally would move in with you the day after Christmas. It wouldn't be fair to her if she, as she was only a kitten yet, would've to stay at home all alone all day long. That's why you decided to wait which seemed to be the best solution for everyone.

Anyways. Today was the 16th of December and only after two hours after your shift started your feet started to hurt. This usually only happens short before your shift ended at 7 Pm but not at 2Pm. Not thinking anything about it you kept working and selling everyone the most variously teas in town. But it wasn't until a few hours later as you noticed how the smell of Vanilla almost made you choke. It turned from one of your favourite smells into your worst nightmare. Thinking about enchanting the damn box of vanilla tea you got more and more stressed out by every minute.

,,Is everything alright Y/N?" Your co-worker and chef Kim asked as she passed you a cup of tea. Curious she raised her brows.

,,Yes, I'm alright. Just caught a Cold or something." Smirking she nodded and you knew that she probably thought of completely other things.

,,Or maybe it's because you are all my cupcakes, dear." She now said in a bit huffing tone only to show you the empty plate as an evidence sign.

,,I'm sorryyy- they're just so great." Rolling her eyes Kim now sat down next to you. ,,I know. That's why you stole them the last few weeks from the fridge."

,,I'll get you new ones tomorrow, I promise." Chuckling you grabbed a cookie from your lunchbox before taking another sip of your tea.

,,I really hope so. Or else I have to ask Severus for a Potion that could make you hate Cupcake or I don't know.. enchant them or something. He's probably more intelligent than I am when it's about inventing spells and potions." She mumbled while browsing through a new catalog of tea ingredients and jars. The day went by without any further events and you almost couldn't wait anymore until Severus would come back home in less than 8 days by now.

Waking up in the morning you knew something wasn't right. Your stomach turned around and you barely made it to the toilet until the cupcakes and cookies from yesterday and the tea made their way up your throat again. This couldn't be happening. It was the most important time of the year for the shop and you just couldn't get sick right now. Somehow, even though you were 25 Minutes late, you still made it to the tea shop where a stressed out Kim was awaiting you.

,,Y/N! Thank Merlin you're here! I though you wouldn't come at all." Shaking your Head You silently took her place at the cashbox so she could do her job. As the lunchtime came around and you got to close the shop for round about 30 Minutes Kim wasn't waiting long until pressuring you to another smalltalk again.

,,Why do you look so sad? Did you forgot the Cupcakes or something?" Her Face was tensioned as the thought of not getting her loved cupcakes again.

,,They're in the fridge." You sighed before rubbing your eyes and leaning back against the wall. Watching her hovering above the plate of cupcakes you had to talk to her. ,,Sorry for being late. I just- I had to throw up all morning long. It's a nightmare." Holding a Cupcake in her hand the pink haired woman who was also somehow your best friend now listened closer to what you said.

,,Let's hope You're not pregnant, I wouldn't be able to lead the shop without you." She mumbled and bid into the sweet bakery in her hand. ,,Maybe it's just something about your Period coming up. PMS or so what."

,,I don't know. I can't even remember my last Period." You joked innocently, bid into a cupcake as well only to almost spit it out a few seconds after. Kim's eyes widened as well.

,,No way!" She said now putting the cupcake aside. ,,No fricking way!" Kim now gasped and held her hand above her mouth. You instantly realised that you couldn't remember your last period because you didn't had one. Wiping your mouth with a paper towel that Kim just gave you you rethought the last few months. The last time you really remembered your period was around October. October?! ,, Don't Play jokes on me!" She almost squeaked jumping happily up and down. If you really were pregnant she'd always of course support you and Severus. Wait- Shit- you had to tell Severus! But you didn't even made a test yet. Was it even necessary? Of course it was necessary. Looking back at Kimberly you just noticed how she had been talking to you all the time.

,,You know what, Sweety? You will take some time off today. I'll get Sarah to help me out and you can things get figured out, ok?"  Just nodding easily you couldn't be happy just yet but just worry. If you were pregnant you were sure that Severus would be a lovely father but what about you? Are you ready to be a mom? A good mom the child of someone like Severus would deserve? And even worse if you weren't pregnant, would you feel sad or relieved? Would Severus even like to have kids with you? Your thought were so busy to rethink everything that you got out of words when you sat at the bathroom on the rim of the bathtub holding up the potion Kim just handed you and thinking about the Muggle pregnancy test you also got which were also about to tell you if you were expecting a baby or not.

,,And how do I use the potion?" You had asked Kim on the phone.

,,You have to spit in it and maybe shake it a little bit. If it turns red you're not pregnant." She said as her curiosity almost made her jump through the phone but you just hung up while still being shocked. Doing as she said you spit in the small jar, mixing it up with the fluid in it and shaking it. As you sat it down on the counter you buried your face in your hands. This was nerve wrecking! And a few seconds later you had your results.

24th December You had set up the Christmas Tree by yourself and already made Dinner so you and Severus could relax as soon as he would arrive late at the evening. Also you managed to pick up Ally earlier then planned due to Kim telling you to stay at home until Severus would be back again. The last few days you were so nervous it was stealing your sleep. Not being able to relax you sat on the couch watching Ally sleep in her small basket. Only when you heard the Keys turn in the lock you felt like some weight fell off your shoulders.

,,Y/N, love. I'm home." Your tall Boyfriend instantly went looking for you. Pulling you close to kiss you he softly hummed against your lips- you missed him so much! After he let go of you he instantly kneeled down to pet Ally. ,,She's so cute, isn't she?" Nodding he looked up to you. ,,She's a baby!" His voice was so high pitched it made you chuckle instantly. He was a strict man and seeing him becoming so excited about this tiny kitty was just too cute. As he got himself to let go of her he took off his jacket and sat down on the couch next to you. He always enjoyed slowly arriving at home just spending the first few moments with you but you were just too tensed. ,,Ready for Dinner?" You quickly pressed. Before Severus could answer you already hurried to the Kitchen.

The Dinner went on surprisingly unproblematic. He talked about the so very ugly Christmas sweater he got from Minerva and how he gave her some pink socks in return. To his disadvantage she loved the socks and wasn't upset or anything at all. They loved getting themselves the ugliest Presents they found so they could watch the other one being teased. Last year he got her the Biography from Lockhart- ohh she was raging about this one! ,,I'm never ever going to wear that ,thing'. Anyways, your presents are always the bests. I can't wait to see what you got me." He said before downing the last bite of chicken down with some wine. Smiling nervous you just nodded getting up to wash the plates. ,,Y/N, let me do that after we unwrapped our gifts." He smiled and kissed your neck softly.

Your legs felt like they would collapse any second that's how nervous you were by now. How would he react? Well, you were about to find out.

Sitting next to each other at the couch he smiling gave you another kiss. ,,What's bothering you so much?" He whispered against your lips and you knew your cover has been blown. His hands carefully petted the small kitty who just walked over his legs to lay down on your lap.

,,I'm just nervous that you maybe won't like my present. That's all." And by that you gave him the small box form below the tree.

,,I'm sure i will love the present as much as I love you." His smile was as wide as could be but as he opened the lid of the box and it discovered the small cat plushie, the potion you used to discover your pregnancy and a small baby body in the colours of Slytherin it faded. He was staring at it not believing his eyes. ,,What does this mean?" You opened your mouth but no words left your mind.

,,Y/N, if you're just joking - that's - that's not funny." He said now suddenly vulnerable and his eyes started to glistening. ,,I'm pregnant, Sev." You mumbled trying to hide your Face behind your hair. He suddenly breathed out and he hugged you tight.

,,I'm going to be a father?" Getting up while still hugging you he spun you around. Chuckling you noticed how all your worries weren't important at all. The relief was knocking all your doubts down. Looking at Severus you couldn't help it but cry - he was so very happy.

,,You're going to be the best father ever." ,,And you the best Mom. I knew that your present would be the best!" Letting you down you both sat down again. Instantly Severus hand found their way to your stomach trying to feel any type of Life.

,,Well, I have to admit that the new teacup I got for you isn't as good as your surprise. But I hope you still like it. I never thought I’d become a father myself- that’s so great!“ And again you kissed him being happy about the changes and the new members of your family. The both of you couldn't be happier!

Taglist: @deepperplexity , @monstreviolet , @wow-life-love4

Let me know if you want to be added in my Taglist. :)

[frangipanidownunder]

Still with me, Scully?: fic

A bad case, a snowstorm, a grumpy Scully, a sorry Mulder in a one-bed tropefest story for your entertainment.

The outside looks promising enough. The neon light blinks Vacancy. A low-slung roof over a festively decorated door, wreath shimmering with silver tinsel and tiny jewel lights twinkling. He chances a look over his shoulder. She’s round-shouldered, down-in-the-mouth, pale like the frost just starting to crackle over the motel windows.

“Still with me Scully?”

She stuffs her hands deep into her pockets and he imagines those fine fingers squeezing the life out of him, her cold eyes glinting as he gasps her name, an apology and a declaration of love all wrapped up one final exhalation. It’s been a bad case. Really bad. Silent treatment for the hours lost on the road. Face turned to the grimy roadside all the way; surely, she has a cricked neck and yet another excuse to beat him up, down and sideways.

The door creaks open and the smell of pine, sawdust and years of lost souls hits him. “Looks all right,” he says, mustering some cheer that isn’t exactly Christmassy but definitely holds a note of the hopefulness that comes at this time of year. The end of something, the beginning of something. A chance to reset. She doesn’t respond, merely checks out the tree in the corner with its bright decorations. He follows her gaze and his eyes rest on a golden bauble in the shape of a teardrop. Of course.

The clerk flumps open a dusty ledger and peruses the listing, umming and ahing ostentatiously. Any minute she’ll explode; he can see the blast brooding in her flaring nostrils and her half-rolled lips. The eyebrow is shooting up and up. Ladies and gentlemen, we have lift off.

“Only one room left,” the clerk declares. “It’s out round back.” He turns and unhooks a loop of keys and gives them to Mulder. “You and the missus’ll be nice and cosy, though. There’s a bucket of firewood in each room. Matches are on the sideboard. TV don’t work but I’m sure you’ve got other ways to keep yourselves occupied. Storm’s coming.”

Yes, it is, Mulder thinks as the keys feel like stone in his hand. He turns to face his partner and swallows. “Um. You still with me, Scully?”

The teardrop on the Christmas tree wobbles and falls to the floor as she lets the door slam behind her.

The room is…cosy. But not in the rich timber panelling, mellow lighting, roaring fireplace, fleecy quilted bed linen and luxurious drapes at the windows kind of way. More the six foot by six foot, dingy broom cupboard way. A single, square window the size of a postage stamp is opaque with dust not frost. The curtains hang limply from a bent pelmet. The sideboard is more like a child’s school desk. He guesses the tv hasn’t worked since colour came in. The fireplace is the only saving grace. Mulder gets to work straightaway, striking each flimsy match from the small book as a penance prayer. Finally, the penultimate redhead catches and he protects the small orange flame of hope with his cupped hands.

“I’m so sorry this happened,” he says to her. She’s on the bed. Or in it, perhaps, because it’s folded up around her making her look like a young orphan fresh off the train at Miss O’Leary’s Home for Young Innocents. She grunts at him and sighs forever.

The fire take hold and he lets himself smile at the small victory. “Ta-da,” he declares with jazz hands that he hopes are conciliatory, but from the raised eyebrow and averted gaze are probably more fuel for her inner fire. How can one be simultaneously icy and fiery? Scully is the enigma of all enigmas.

“I’ll take the…” he looks around for another item of furniture. There is none. “Floor?”

She tuts and rolls the small opal earring around in her right lobe. It catches the reflection of the fire and an amber glow emerges from the pearlescent surround. It’s Scully in an earring, he muses. “It’s okay, Mulder. We’re grown-ups.” She offers him a curt smile, one that says, ‘well at least one of us is’.

“I promise not to play footsie,” he says as the fire licks and spits. “If you promise not to drool on me.”

Between her fingers, she’s made a knot of the coverlet. She drops it, straightens it out and slides him a smile, somewhere between a white flag and a red flag. He can’t quite work out which it is, but the room is warming up and maybe she’s thawing a little too.

The fire burns out some time during the small hours. His feet and the small of his back are exposed and his brain is unhelpfully supplying all the dumb things he’s ever done during their partnership. It’s quite the extensive playlist. He can’t move, because he’ll wake her. But he does lift his head to see her nested in the pillow, face like an angel, a russet halo framing her forehead. The delicacy of her snoring is somewhat comforting, the salve for the burn his mind is meting out.

There’s a weighty silence around them. The profound quiet of a snowfall. Through the slit in the curtain he thinks he can see the rising accumulation on the window sill. The blind face of the tv screen is visible in the strange light. He stares at it like he might on one of his usual insomniac nights. What’s the difference between a blank screen and a movie he’s seen a hundred times? The mind-stultifying effect is what he’s seeking.

She shifts. Turns to him and the tip of her nose brushes his. She blows out a slightly acidic breath and it warms him more than she’d consider medically possible. But Dr Scully doesn’t know everything. They’re both as uneducated when it comes to affairs of the heart. True affairs of the heart, not the hormone or power fuelled relationships they’ve both endured in the past. He loves her. She loves him. It’s as clear as the pure snow that’s undoubtedly settling outside. But it’s easier to plough through life without acknowledging the build-up, without gritting the paths to make their way through safer. No, they’ll be wading through knee-high snow for a while to come.

His sigh is louder than he anticipated and her eyes flicker open. “Sorry, Scully,” he whispers and she twitches her nose, wets her lips. She wriggles her hands between her legs and her knees boop his groin. Now it’s her turn to apologise. Although it’s debatable who’s more embarrassed. “Do you want me to start the fire again?”

“Wazzatime?”

“Too early for coffee, too late for coffee. Want coffee?”

She nods and he gets up, starts the fire first time and fumbles for the kettle and supplies. She’s found an extra pair of woolly socks and slips them on. Her crumpled appearance makes him almost fold in half. She’s a glorious sight to behold. His eyes take her in and he finds his breath again. He realises in that moment he would dearly sell his soul to the devil to wake up with her every morning and make her coffee. He hands her a cup and crawls next to her, so their feet are both flat to the flames, thighs pressed together.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and his heart lights up.

“It’s snowing.”

“Figures.”

“Think you could bear another night here?”

She dips her mouth to the coffee. “Seems to me there won’t be much of a choice if the car’s stuck.” She takes another sip. “Everything is working against us, here.”

“Seems that way. Can’t win a trick.”

“But you do make a good fire, Mulder. So consider that a win.”

He does. He considers it the win of the century. Up there with the Knicks smashing the 76ers in 94.

“So you’re still with me, Scully?”

She rubs his ankle with her fuzzy socks and he lifts his foot so that hers slips under his. “Always,” she whispers and the coffee suddenly tastes like a promise of something better to come.

[tbzhours]

be my christmassy

kevin x you x eric, high school au, fluff 

[summary] the Christmassy dance is coming up and with both having a crush on you, eric and kevin try to show their love for you. who will you choose? [words] 5.4k  [a/n] are you still feeling christmassy? ♡ i didn’t know who you should end up with so there are two endings for this fic! also, there’s a lot of college talks in here so bare with me; enjoy! 

It’s usually exciting during this time of the school year because of the annual Christmassy dance. you would hear cheers randomly throughout the week of successful proposals for current and new couples. You honestly loved it, except the glittery decorations around the school that tend to stick onto you and your stuff. Other than that, it also meant that a lot of things are going to happen unexpectedly, like the snacks that keep appearing on your desk since the announcement of the dance. 

You and Eric had the same homeroom when another cheer was heard from the door. You were on your way to the class when you got stuck from the crowd. It was probably the fifth time this morning that you took a sigh then you made a detour, taking the longer way. 

“So, have you thought about who you wanted to ask to the dance?” Hyunjae started after their gaming discussions after hearing the cheer. He smiled excitedly at them then Juyeon answered him. 

“I’m asking my girlfriend out today. My teammates are helping on the field.” Juyeon revealed but Hyunjae slapped his shoulder. 

“At the game?” Hyunjae was surprised when he argued. “Dude, you don’t even need to do that. She can already assume you would go with her to the dance.” 

Jacob shook his head, looking at him without an expression, which slowly turned into a sweet smile. “You don’t know love at all, Hyunjae.” 

Eric wasn’t listening when they bickered, whispering a few names of potential dates then Hyunjae called Eric out, who was caught off guard thinking how he should ask you to the dance. All eyes were on him as he had his mouth open, trying to find words to say. 

“I have someone in mind. Not really sure yet.” Eric didn’t sound promising when he looked up and tapped on his chin. His friends shook their heads. 

“Anyway, if you can help out later, the surprise will be during halftime.” Juyeon mentioned then he pointed at them. “Don’t be late.” 

That was when you walked in, face full of annoyance like you went through a lot trying to get through all of the people in the hall from that successful confession. Eric’s eyes widened as if there was a bubble in his mind when he saw you.  

Eric walked away from the group to the empty seat next to you and sat down when he slid into it. It was a smooth move when you noticed him there. 

“Hey (Y/N), you wanna come watch our team play today?” Eric asked, almost whispering. You thought it was odd because obviously the whole school would go see them. He was on the football team like Juyeon so before you could greet him like the usual, you chuckled. 

“Of course I am. Everyone will.” You turned away from him to see the snack on your desk. You smiled and set it away inside your bag with a whisper of “I’m gonna eat that later”. You didn’t realize Eric heard it and it made him blush. His smile got smaller as he wondered if he got caught staring when you looked back at him. “You’re playing tonight?” 

“Yeah! All because of you.” Eric straightened up from his seat and his fingers fiddle in gratitude. “Thanks for helping me with physics.” 

“I’m glad.” You remembered how hard that class was but you did pretty well in it so you didn’t mind helping Eric study all week last week during your lunch time. “It would suck to not see you on that field.” 

“Thanks for always coming to our games too.” He, once again, felt the need to appreciate you for all of the things you’ve done for him even though it was just a favor. 

“Hey, I’m not the only one supporting our school team. The whole school is going to go see the game tonight.” You chuckled. “We have to win.” 

Eric nodded with a smile. His cheeks were burning up when he repeated your words, “We have to win.” 

You showed your fist to him and he was confused. “For good luck.” 

Eric pounded back at you then you got your textbook out to check the reading for one of your classes today. He admired how cool you were as his friends watched the whole scene and knew who he was going to ask to the dance. 

One of your classes after homeroom was a beginners piano class. Kevin was an student assistant for the class since he knew how to play the piano and took all of the advance classes already. 

There was about four minutes left until the bell rings when you came into the class early. Kevin turned to you from the teacher’s piano at the front of the class and he waved a hand at you. 

“Hey (Y/N), you’re early again.” He sneaked a smile, watching you set your things down at your assigned chair then you walked up to him. 

“Yes, I need to be here early so I can practice for a minute.” You sounded like you were out of breath. You sat down beside him and smiled. “The new melody last week.” 

“You want to try it again?” He asked and you nodded. He motioned his head to the keyboard for you to give it a go. “Go ahead.” 

You focused hard as you played the melody, though it was slower than it should be. His head nodded along each note. 

“By the way, do you need practice for the upcoming test?” He asked, his nod still complimenting at how your fingers pressed against each key. 

“I might, depending on how well this melody sounds to you.” You smiled, trying to not laugh because you could feel how long you were stretching the sound. Seconds later, you finally finished playing and you gave Kevin the side look. “Well?” 

“You’re a fast learner.” He started but you covered your laugh with your closed mouth so there were muffling breaths coming through your nose. “What? I think you did great!” He blurted out, almost laughing. 

“How so?” You asked with curiosity. 

“I’m just surprised at how fast you memorized the melody.” He had a cocky look on his face but it was a pleasant one. 

“Of course I am, I can recite all of my essays for the college applications right now.” 

Kevin held his palm at your boldness. “Hold your horses, I don’t want to think about that when we’re gonna have a test on Friday.” 

“Christmassy day!” You cheered with thrill. “Besides, you’re going to ace it anyways.”

“No, it’s going to be hard to grade everyone.” Kevin cried. You forgot he wasn’t taking the course and you giggled quietly to yourself as if you face-palmed yourself. He sighed and complained, “And all of this Christmassy fun is getting in my head. I just want it to be Friday already.”

“Same.” You agreed. “Except for that test.” 

You both laughed together as the room filled up with students and the bell rang. 

Later that night, you went to go watch Eric’s game with your friends. It was a little chilly but you had a warm coat and winter necessities as you followed your friends though the seating bleachers. It was already dark as the floodlights through the field lit up. The cheers were loud and in unison. When you found your seat, you saw Kevin with his friends, who were sitting in front of you. 

“Didn’t know you’d be here.” You said before you sat down. 

“Same?” Kevin had a judging look on his face, still turned back to you. 

“I watch the game every year.” 

“Uh, I knew that.” 

“Sure.” 

You bursted a laugh when he turned to the front and it got quiet after your nonchalant bickering. He was smiling after hearing you then he turned back to you. 

“This is going to be fun.” Kevin gushed, keeping his hands inside his coat pockets.

“Right. We’re playing against our rival school.” You explained. “Interesting how we get to see them play for our last year.” 

“I have a feeling our team will win.” Kevin smiled. “We got a good team this year.” 

He was right. Once the game started, your school team already scored more points than the opponent. You noticed that Eric was a really good runner. He was always near each end to get ready for a catch. Sometimes, you caught him looking at you after the ball touched the ground. You admired how well your team always played every year because you could tell they put their every ounce of sweat from practice into the game. Maybe that’s why you always go watch the winter game. 

Halftime quickly came as both crowds chanted in unison. Then all of a sudden, some of your school’s team members walked onto the running track in front of your school bleachers. They all had balloons and flowers, and you didn’t see Eric until you saw that he was holding onto a big teddy bear. Juyeon suddenly popped out behind them with a big ‘Will you be my sunshine?’ sign and sunflowers in his hands. 

Juyeon shouted his girlfriend’s name and asked, “Will you be my sunshine at Christmassy?!” 

Everyone looked around, asking where she was. Juyeon shouted her name again then when she came down, all of the crowd cheered. Juyeon walked up to her as they hugged and kissed in front of everyone and the cheers got louder.  

“I thought they’re already dating?” Kevin’s eyebrow rosed, smiling when he looked back at you. 

You shrugged. “I guess it makes it a little more special that way.” 

“I want that.” He suddenly confessed then he saw your judging face. “What?” 

“You want someone to ask you to the dance like that?” 

“I have big dreams.” Kevin chuckled. “I wouldn’t mind all of the balloons and cute stuff, except with an audience this big. Gives me chills.” 

Kevin shivered and you did the same. “I agree.” 

You both shared smiles before he asked you, “You want some hot chocolate after this?” 

“That sounds nice.” 

Eric saw you on the bleachers as he headed toward the bench where his team was at. He waved with his whole arm at you with the teddy bear still in his other arm. Your smile bloomed bigger as you waved back. 

“I never knew about this place.” You were amazed after you and Kevin sat down in the cafe. 

“You can almost say, it’s my secret place to go to.” Kevin chuckled, fixing his long strand of hair. He ordered the hot chocolate and turned back to you. You took a last glance at the antique wall behind the barista before you turned to meet his eyes. 

“The music’s nice.” You commented and he watched how your lips curled into a grin. “And it’s really calm in here.” 

“That’s why I love it here.” He smiled then he groaned. “It just sucks that I might not be able to come back here after we graduate.” 

“That’s right. The closest music school is like two hours away.” You recalled as you chuckled. “That really does suck.” 

“Right?” Kevin sighed then he gave a tiny glare at you jokingly. “I’m still mad at you for only taking piano just to fill an elective credit.” 

“Hey, I’m enjoying the class.” You argued back, still grinning. You rested your chin onto your fist as you set your elbow on the table. “Besides, I think I’m getting better at playing than you.”

“Yeah, and that’s stressing me more over all of these applications.” 

“How is that going for you?” You genuinely asked when the hot cocoa was served. You both thanked the barista and you looked back at him with a smile. 

“Applied for a few music schools already. Still have a few left before acceptances come through.” Kevin held onto his hot cocoa and smiled cheekily at you. “You?” 

“I’m on the same boat.” You sighed and took a sip of your drink. Luckily, it wasn’t too hot so you could drink it warmly. 

Kevin remembered about how stressful it was for you already about applying for colleges because it was about choosing your dream of studying out of the country or staying and finding a new dream. He assured you, “Whatever you choose, I’ll support you.” 

He took a sip of his drink and chuckled when he saw the foam on your upper lips. 

“You want to be santa so bad, huh?” Kevin tried not to drip any hot cocoa from his mouth when wiped your lips with a napkin. 

Later that night, you were getting ready to sleep. As you rested on your bed with the lamp on by your desk, you scrolled through your feed before looking at the stories at the top. You watched Juyeon’s story and saw how he proposed with sunflowers for his girlfriend like how you saw at the game. You smiled at how sweet it was before Eric appeared on Juyeon’s next story. Eric was seen practicing his lines to ask someone out for the dance while his team were taking a break from the game. You chuckled and turned to your side. You thought it was kinda cute as you sent the story to Eric. 

You set your phone down and went to sleep. 

The next morning, you drove a little late to school because you didn’t hear your alarm. You were rushing to school, trying to drive fast and luckily, you made it in time but you still ran as if you were late. 

You caught Eric by your locker but when you tried to come through the crowd, he stopped you by the wrist. He was gentle as he came close to your face to whisper. “Sorry you can’t use your locker yet.”

Eric smirked then he pulled you into the crowd to see the whole scene. 

Younghoon, someone you knew from all of your math classes, asked someone from your homeroom out to the dance so you had to wait. He was your math study buddy after you both unexpectedly took the same classes during your first year together. He was always talking smart so it was funny to see him standing by the lockers next to the formula letters of + U = <3, in which he was the letter I at the left. 

You didn’t know he would have such a big crush on one of your classmates. 

Your classmate came by and the two were obviously in love. They didn’t hesitate with their answer and hugged him right away. 

You cheered with the crowd, not realizing how Eric’s been holding your hand ever since he pulled you into it. Once the crowd scattered and Younghoon and his date walked away, you made your way to your locker quickly. You opened it, letting the + sign stay stuck on the door of your locker as you set some things away. 

Eric was watching your every move after leaning onto the locker on his back beside you. He tried not to laugh when he asked. “Why are you in such a rush?”

“I woke up late so I feel like I’m gonna be late to everything.” You confessed, still scrambling your things back and forth. 

“Well, you look fine, except this.” He fixed your hair to the side and smiled. It must have been from running too much. “There.” 

Your eyes met and you found yourself blushing a little. 

Eric’s eyes bloomed before he grabbed something from his pockets and handed it to you. “And here.” 

You gave him a laugh and took the snack from his hand. “So you’re the one who’s been giving me all of these snacks?” 

“Uhh did I get caught?” He tilted his head then you nodded at him. He quickly changed the subject, talking too fast that you couldn’t stop grinning. Eric started to walk backwards as he suggested. “Do you perhaps want some hot cocoa? I heard Younghoon’s homeroom teacher is making it for his class. They have marshmallows too. The big ones. Yes? Okay, I got you. I’ll be right back.” 

You could see his rosy cheeks before he turned and ran through the crowd. You shook your head and focused back onto your locker. You set his snack down on the top shelf and smiled as you shut it. 

During lunch, your friends asked if you were planning to go to the dance. It was already tomorrow and they were shocked that you didn’t have a date yet because it’s your last year already. 

“You should make it the best.” One of them said. 

Then another added, “I thought you were the one who’s always asking first.” 

You didn’t feel like joining in the conversation but if you had to explain, it was because you had one potential date last year. It’s funny because this year, you have two people in mind. You weren’t sure who you wanted to go with since you are pretty close to the two. For a second, you thought this was harder than doing your applications. 

“Well, at least you’ll get a card tomorrow, from I know who.” One of them teased. 

Ah yes, tomorrow was the day where a card and a chocolate rose get sent to people from their secret admirer by the student council. It was going to happen during your class before lunch. That was when you knew how loud the cafeteria was going to get with the guessing game tomorrow. 

You shrugged after getting playful eyes from your friends. 

You were walking alone in the hall after your teacher asked you to do an errand for them since you were done with your in-class assignment. Kevin was there but you didn’t see him because you were lost in your head while the printer was going. 

“(Y/N)?” You heard Kevin by the front desk. 

You looked to your side and almost jumped. “Did you have your head down or something? I forgot you have library duties.” 

You both chuckled softly in the silent room. Kevin stood up as you picked up the papers and walked to him. You set the papers down on the table between you both when you continued. 

“Must be nice to be in here where there’s no chaos.” You joked. Then you looked at the space in front of the computer screen he was sitting in front of. “What are you working on?” 

“Nothing.” Kevin’s lips twisted to the side with his eyes panicking where you were looking at. He shuffled the papers and tried to explain. “Uhh, it’s more like... I’m just making cards for some of the teachers before the break.” 

“I should do that too.” You nodded as you didn’t see the beads and strings under the cards. Your lips bloomed when you continued, “Anyway, aren’t you excited for tomorrow?” 

“I am.” He mused. “I can’t believe it’s going to be our last dance before we go to college.” 

“Same.” You sighed, “Time goes by too fast.” 

Kevin shrugged with a cheeky smile. “Next thing you know, we’re gonna be walking down with our gowns.”

“Noooo~” You groaned with your head down then you quickly got up. “Wait, I mean yes because you owe me a homemade cake.” 

“You still remember that?” Kevin was surprised because he made one for your older brother, who was also his friend. He graduated last year and Kevin dropped by your place to congratulate him with it. 

“Duh,” you pretended to be annoyed but you smiled after. You remember fighting with your brother just to get a taste of it. “I can still remember the taste. It was that good.” 

“Then I won’t forget to do that for you when we graduate.” 

“Thanks. I’ll let my brother know you're still a baker and you’re doing great.” You let him know then it got quiet with just your smiles. A few seconds went by before you picked up the papers and chuckled awkwardly. “I better get going.” 

Kevin grabbed some things on the table and handed them to you before you could make it to the door. “Here take some chocolate, just in case we don’t get any tomorrow.” 

Your eyebrow heightened as you assured him. “I’m sure you’ll have at least one secret admirer.” 

Yeah, you too.” You both exchanged smiles and before you walked out of the door, you turned back just in case. “Good luck tomorrow.” Kevin whispered, “With the test.” 

You could almost see him winking before you walked out. 

Right then, you saw Eric in the hallway quietly, as if he didn’t want to get caught skipping class. 

He didn’t even see you until the door of the library opened. His eyes widened. Good thing you didn’t open two seconds later because he would have hit the door. You shut it as he slowed down. 

“Where are you going, Eric?” You asked. You joined his walk while he tried to avoid your eyes. 

“I-I’m just helping Haknyeon with his date. You know, for the dance.” He chuckled awkwardly. 

“You’re always the wingman.” You laughed along and turned to him. “Will you ever do an event for your own date?” 

Eric blushed nervously and he hummed a weird sound. “O-of course. It just hadn’t happened yet.” 

“Well then, good luck with it.” You smiled at him when you stopped by the door of your class. It was just down the hall from the library. “Have fun being a wingman again.” 

“Thanks.” Eric smiled as you walked into your class. 

When you got home, you were conflicted over who to ask to the dance that you had decided it would be fun to go to the dance with your friends instead. 

You set some things back into your bag when the night got deep. You check one of the side pockets after remembering about the chocolate Kevin gave you, then you realized he gave you a bracelet too, as promised from a while back when he got into making bead bracelets. You remembered him making some for his friends and since your older brother got one, you wanted one too. You quickly sent a text of it after getting ready to sleep and thanked him for remembering. 

When you went back to your feed, you saw that both Eric and Kevin made a post. 

You liked both posts then you set your phone down and closed your eyes to sleep. Your heart was beating so fast that you didn’t know what tomorrow would be like. For sure, it was going to be a busy day. 

It was the day of the dance and the school was festive with all of the cheers and sweet giving and exchanges throughout the hall and classrooms as your heart was still rushed in excitement. 

You briefly saw Eric in homeroom but he left early to be another wingman for a friend’s proposal. He made sure to meet eyes with you with a smile before he left the room. 

As for Kevin, he seemed super nervous during your piano test. You gave him a big pat on the back when you both walked out of the class and complimented how great he did. 

“You still look nervous.” You commented, you peeked at him. 

“I do?” He moved his head back and scoffed with a confident smile. “Well, I’m not.” 

“I believe you.” You smiled, trying not to laugh at how funny he looked. “See you later. Hope you get something.” 

The secret admirer cards. Kevin just remembered. Actually, it’s been on his mind all morning. It’s just that he was one of your secret admirers and you were standing right in front of him where you both needed to part ways in the hall. He nervously smiled. “Right. You too.” 

You both parted, smiling away and when you got to your locker with only a minute left to get to your next class before lunch, Eric came by, shouting your name. A few students looked and some shook their head from being used to him shouting with his friends. 

“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be in class already?” Your eyes were wide and your lips were opened in surprise. You couldn’t help to chuckle at how nervous he looked.

“I know. I just forgot to um…” He tried to think of something and blurted out, “Say hi to you.”

“Hi~” You played along then you rushed your locker exchanges and closed it quickly. “Better get going. I’m gonna be late to my class too.” 

“Take a run! You’ll get there in no time!” 

You didn’t know why he was encouraging you to run in school because it wasn’t allowed but you played along with a laugh. You took off and waved your hand at him. “You too! Bye!” 

You finally got to class right when the bell rang. Once you sat down, the announcement came on about the secret admirer cards. It was taking a while since the deliverers had to stop by each classroom. You tried to stay focused in class but it was really hard to, and when there was a knock on the door, your teacher walked to it and started to pass the cards to the correct receivers. 

For you, you got two.

card 1 i adore  how your mind speaks how your eyes shine, and especially how passionate your dream beats against your heart. if there’s room for more, will you be my christmassy?

card 2 roses are red violets are blue how about christmassy? at your side i shall be. (meet me at the parking lot at lunch?)

                           who stole your heart? 

                              card 1   /   card 2

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 3

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count-2,383

Warning- Mentions of: loss of parents, death, and fires.  Possible swearing. Slight angst. Fluff

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo.  The square filled for this chapter is Christmas Tree  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.  

This chapter also fills my entry for @supernatural-love14​,100 Followers writing challenge.  Prompt - I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.

This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

To say you were surprised to end up at an elementary school would be an understatement.    Dean’s group of fascinating people were the kindergarten classes. He even had plastic fireman hats for them, and of course an extra one for you. 

The kids were so caught up in his speech about fire safety and the important things to remember if there ever is a fire.  He was so good with them and kept them all interested.  He finished his presentation talking about Christmas trees and how they should all make sure their parents keep them watered, so the lights don’t catch them on fire. 

Dean took questions at the end.  Some of the boys wanted to know what it was like to drive the fire truck, someone asked if it was fun to slide down the pole.  They were disappointed when Dean told them there wasn’t one where he worked.  One little girl at the end ran up and gave him a great big hug before you guys left.  He was so adorable with her. 

When you left there Dean asked if you were interested in helping him pick out tiles for the kitchen backsplash.  You didn’t have anything else to do and had been enjoying helping him with the house so you agreed. 

Getting to the store he had three different ones selected and had you help him decide.  After the paint he trusted your opinion on the color selection.   

They had enough in stock of your choice to let you two get started on it when you got home.  The rest would be in soon.  You had a system worked out, you put the mastic on the back and Dean applied the tile to the wall. 

That afternoon Dean headed into work for another 24 hour shift. The second call of the afternoon was for a house fire.  Thankfully for the residents it was mostly contained to one room, just the living room.  But that room had a bit of damage done.

Hoping out of the truck back at the station he asks, “Okay who seriously is going to BBQ a turkey in the fireplace.  And plan on doing it twice because this was just going to be a test run before Christmas?”

“It’s the Holidays,”  Bobby stated.  “People are going to be doing crazy things.  You’ve been here a few years don’t you know this by now.”

“That is true.  Y/N and I were talking about that earlier after we left the school presentation.”

“Wait, WE, left the presentation?  Did you take her with you?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Well,”

“She’s living with him now, didn’t you know that?” Sam asks him.

“What, really?”  Benny couldn’t believe it.

“She moved in a couple days ago.”

“Wow, you two move fast.”

“It’s not like that you idiots.  She got kicked out of her condo and had nowhere else to go, and she already got fired because of me.  I’m just giving her a place to stay till she figures things out.  The house has the room.  Our dogs get along great.”

“Is that why Miracle isn’t here?”  Cas wants to know.

“Yeah, Y/N’s taking care of him and Dean. He’s falling in love.”

“Who Dean or Miracle?” Cas questions Sam.

“Dean, probably both.  She is very easy to like.”

“You’ve met her, besides that day she was in here?”  Benny wanted to know.

“Yeah, Dean called me to help move her.”

“I would have helped the nice pretty girl move, why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“I’m not sure packing would have been the only thing you tried with her, Benny.  I just found her again, I’m not letting you scare her off.”

“He didn’t deny the love.”  Sam says with a smile. 

“I’m not falling in love with anyone, bitch.”  Dean shakes his head at the whole thing as he removes his gear. 

“I’m sorry, my jerk of a brother, is falling in love, but he doesn’t know it yet.”

“That can’t be true Dean, come on man.  I look up to you, playing the field avoiding commitment, a constant string of beautiful women.”

“It’s not true, we aren’t falling in love, not dating.  I still don’t do commitment, and never getting married.”

“So what are you doing with Miracle if you don’t do commitment?”  Bobby asks as he takes off his coat.”

“Temporary long termish house guest.”

“Uh huh.”

“I told him when the house is sold he’s on his own.”

“Let us know how that works out in a couple of months, you idjit.”

“I’m calling your bluff with the girl.  Can you say no to these three things.”

“Really Cas?”

Cas ignores Dean and continues on, “ You live with her?  That’s a yes.  Two, you spend all your free time with her? Yes.”

“Well.”

“Three, you think about her when you aren’t with her? Yes,”

“No, no, you have it all wrong.  Like I said she is only staying till she gets back on her feet.  We are getting to know each other so we hang out, but only  because she’s already there.”

“Getting to know each other like you would if you were dating someone?”

“Shut it Sam.”

“Are you saying he is falling in love?  The legend, is human after all?”  Benny questioned.

“No, I’m not falling in love.  Y/N is a temporary roommate.  That’s it.”

“Man, you are like five minutes away from marrying this girl.”  Sam tells him.

“I hate you all.”  Gear off Dean leaves them behind to take a shower.

“Keep telling yourself that!”  Bobby yells after him.

Wandering around Dean’s house alone while he was at work, you got to thinking.  There was one thing you were really missing this close to Christmas, and it was something you didn’t think you would be able to have this year.  A Christmas tree.

When Dean gets home the next afternoon you bring it up.

“I was wondering if you were going to get a Christmas tree this year?”

“Usually don’t.  I don’t think I’ve had one in a few years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t seen a reason too.  I buy a house, fix it up and sell it.  Usually I don’t stay in one long enough.  I don’t do much for the Holidays.  Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking maybe we could get a tree?  I have a little artificial tabletop tree, but wouldn’t it be nice to have a real one?  To have that Christmas smell when you walk in the door?”

“If you like real ones so much why didn’t you already have one in your place?”

“It was against the bylaws. Apparently too much of a fire liability.”

“That didn’t stop you with Dakota.”

“The tree can’t be hidden quickly like she was.  She was worth risking it for.”

“You really want to get a tree?”

“Please, it helps it feel more like Christmas.  If you don’t want one I understand.”

Dean threw his head back and sighed.  “Fine we can go get a tree.  I think there is a tree lot near the station that hasn’t sold out yet.”

“Let’s go to a tree farm, get the whole experience.”

“You’ll be the death of me Sweetheart.”

Dean didn’t have to work at all the following day, so after breakfast the two of you headed out to the Christmas tree farm.  Dressed in warm clothes and boots you were ready to walk all around the 8 acre tree farm if you needed to, just to find the right tree.   There was a wagon ride that took you around to the different types of trees.  Dean and you got off in the back lot figuring you could walk your way toward the entrance. 

“There’s a tree,”  Dean points out as you start walking down the first row.

“Yes, and it’s also like four foot tall.  It’s still growing, let the baby be.”

“Okay, miss Christmas tree expert.  How do you pick the perfect Christmas tree?”

“It’s really pretty scientific you know.”

“Oh really? Please do explain it to me.”

You laughed at his expression. He had turned to you with wide eyes and a cheeky little grin.  Like he was going to absorb whatever you said.  “You dork.”  Heading over to a tree you reach for a branch pulling your hand back toward you slowly.  “First you need to check the freshness.  If the needles stay on when you do that it’s good.”

You drop your hand to the side, “Then you need to inhale deeply and see how it smells.”

Dean did just that, “It smells like a tree.”

“Okay, but does it smell Christmassy.”

“Christmassy?  Pretty sure you just made that word up.”  

“Nope it’s totally in the dictionary.”

“Okay, Webster.  Then what does it mean?”

“To be filled with Christmas spirit.”

Dean just stared at you for a moment.  “You think a tree is going to smell like it’s filled with Christmas spirit?  Just wondering if you were drinking before I got up this morning?”

“Oh come on, it’s that fresh cut pine smell that fills the whole place and makes it feel like Christmas.”

“Whatever you say, I’ll leave the nose work to you.  What is step three?”  He wants to know as you two walk down the lane looking at the trees around you.

“The lean test.  You need to look at a tree straight on, then lean to the right and to the left, then stand back up straight.  You don’t want a tree that is leaning too hard one way and is crooked.”  You stop to inspect a tree, but continue on down your way.

The fourth step is checking the trunk and making sure nothing is wrong with it.  Sometimes the tree might be straight but that isn’t.  Or it could have a double one that won’t fit in a tree stand.”

“Height is important too.  Your ceilings are fairly high so we could get a foot tree no problem.”

Dean is just smiling listening to you go on about trees while you walk through the lot. “Yep that is extremely scientific.”

You two stopped and looked at different ones but kept going.  There was one you stuck a stick up in top of to mark if you didn’t find anything else you liked. Around an hour into your search you stopped in your tracks.  Dean was lost in his thoughts and took him a moment to notice.  

“That’s the one.”

“The one?”

“Yep, that’s the tree we should get.”

“There is only one?  How do you know it’s the one? What if you are wrong, but you’ve already committed to it?  What happens then, fighting and hurting the kids?”

“You lost me, Dean.”

“I um,”  He just realized what all came out of his mouth. “I  mean it’s a great tree.  Let’s get that one.”

“You sure you are alright?”

“Yep great.  Hold that steady, till I need you to push a little, will you?”

While you were helping to hold the tree from moving too much Dean got on the ground and started sawing back and forth till he had it lying on the ground.  You couldn’t help but notice the muscles in his arms as he worked. 

The two of you carried the tree toward the path in the hopes the wagon would be around soon and you wouldn’t have to carry it all the way to the front.  Thankfully only about five minutes later you could hear it coming around.  Up at the front they shook and bagged the tree for you.  

They also had Santa, and some petting animals around.

“Did you want to go tell Santa your Christmas wish?”  You asked Dean.

“You know, I already saw him this year.  He and I are pretty tight.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

After seeing the animals you hopped in his truck and headed to the store.  Neither of you had a stand that would fit the newly bought tree.  With that accomplished you were on your way back to the house.  Getting the tree inside it was set up in the living room not to far from the fire place, but not near enough to catch any sparks that may pop out. 

Dean didn’t have any decorations in the house, but you had some you had been saving.  After the lights were on you went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate for the two of you and pulled out some of the peanut butter blossom cookies you made the day before.  Coming back Dean still hadn’t turned on the tv so you asked if you could.  Finding the different music channels you finally came across a Christmas one.

The two of you were enjoying the music and each other’s company as you decorated the tree. 

It was late afternoon by the time everything was done and cleaned up.  You offered to start dinner and Dean came in to help you.  The two of you working easily in the newly finished kitchen. 

After dinner you two retired back to the living room turning off the lights in the room and just letting the tree shine.  There was a roaring fire going, The Santa Clause 2 playing on tv.  Chet had to be one of your favorite reindeer in training. It was very relaxing.  

After the movie Dean mutes the television and turns to you.  “Thank you for suggesting the tree.  It’s actually really nice to have it.  I don’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed Christmas.  My parents fought a lot when we were little after the fire, before and after separating.  After we lost them it was just Sam and I.  Both of us just worked double shifts on Christmas at the station so others could have the time off.  Now Sam has Jess so he works part of the day, but doesn’t do a double anymore so he can spend time with her and her family.

He looks around at the decorations on the mantle, “I wouldn’t be opposed if you had some other small decorations you wanted to get out too.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I have that won’t be in the way.”

He turns the volume back up and the two of you settle back to watch another movie.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4 

Tags- @winchest09  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean  @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @jensengirl83 @abuavnee @lunarmoon8 @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278 @that-one-gay-girl @mandalou29  @igotmadskills

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 7 ~The Holiday Feeling~

Picture Source

WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in Christmas Treats ...

After Annalise had left for a night out of bowling and dinner with Willie, she'd put on her new pyjamas, a long coat so no one in the street would notice what she was wearing underneath when she walked to Jamie's cottage and a pair of Ugg boots. All the while, her stomach did a mad flip-flopped, and she continually found herself staring into space, almost tripping on the way to Jamie's house.

Obviously, she hadn't finished staring into space because when Jamie opened the door after she'd knocked, sending her hurtling back to the present, she was speechless. Rollo dashed out of the house and circled her happily, jumping on her.

Jamie grinned and opened the door wider. "Sassenach! Get in here! We have a guest."

"Oh!?"  I thought we're alone.

She pulled the coat tighter and patted Rollo's head. She remembered Annalise's word not to brace herself too hard, took a deep breath, relaxed and stepped into Jamie's house.

What she saw next, took her by surprise.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

 "Oh, it's alive. I thought it's a toy. What's that?" Claire asked as she stepped into the cottage and saw movement in the shoebox on the floor. Rollo flopped himself down beside it like he was the keeper and protector. "Is this the guest you're talking about?"

"One of them." Grinning, Jamie shut the door and followed her gaze. "Can't ye tell what's in the box? Harry found the poor wee thing mewling under the bushes in the park. It cannae be more than a week old. Probably wandered away from the litter and got lost. It's good Harry found her when he did. I dinnae think it would have survived tonight in this cold."

"It's a kitten!" Placing the paper bags she had on the rug, she got on her knees, picked up the ball of grey fur and held it against her chest. Half of its body was cocooned into a red child's sock, and its tiny head had a comical covering. "Goodness, it's even got a hat with earholes. I've never seen anything like this." 

Jamie beamed. "Not my doing. Harry brought it all bundled up like that already."

"Who's Harry? Another sibling?" she asked, nuzzling her face into the tiny furry body before carefully depositing it back into the shoebox.

Ach, Harry! He was here a minute ago. "No. A mate. He's here somewhere. I invited him to stay for dinner. Give me a sec." He'd been distracted by Claire's arrival, he'd forgotten all about his unexpected visitor.

Jamie left Claire in the living area and went to look for his friend. When he felt a draft of cold air, he went into the kitchen thinking Harry probably went to have a peek at his back garden. 

He poked his head out the back door. "Harry!" he called out. There was no answer. Where the bloody hell has he disappeared to?

All throughout the day he'd been looking forward to tonight after he'd spent the afternoon putting up a Christmas tree he'd bought at a tree farm and decorating it with ornaments belonging to his grandmother from his mother's side. And of all days, Harry had to drop by. Not that Jamie wasn't glad to see him, but the timing was terrible as spending some alone time with Claire was on top of his agenda. Nevertheless, he'd invited the Englishman to stay for dinner. But where the hell is he?

He scoured the yard, but he couldn't find Harry. Suddenly feeling the cold, he slipped back into the kitchen to check the pot roast. It was already ready after he'd left it in a slow cooker to cook all day.

Earlier this morning, after he'd dropped by at Claire's B&B cottage and kissed her, it had been a mammoth task to leaving her side, so he'd kept himself busy all day to make time go by faster. It was becoming apparent spending time away from her was starting to feel like the tension on a bungee cord. The longer the time they spent apart, the greater the urge to see her. And the line felt like it was getting shorter, like his threshold for not being with her was diminishing. If Harry was joining them for dinner, he hoped he wouldn't stay too long after dessert.

"Jamie?"

He glanced up to find Claire holding up a bottle of red wine.

"I splurged a bit. I hope this bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon will go with whatever you're cooking?"

Perfect! Putting the teatowel down, he grinned and approached her.

"It's a classic," he said, taking the bottle from her hand and putting it on the counter. He pulled her into his arms and brushed his lips against hers. "I'm sorry Sassenach, I havenae given ye a proper greeting."

She smiled against his mouth. "Where's your friend?" she asked when he was done kissing her.

He pulled away and ran a hand through his hair. "God knows! He probably left. Harry does that all the time. I've invited him to Lallybroch for tea countless of times, but he’s always refused. I guess he's just not a people person." Jamie decided not to worry about it. "Hungry?"

"Very." She glanced past his shoulder. "What are we having?"

"Pot roast."

"Hmmm, nice. Smells heavenly. Need help?"

"No, I have everything under control. Want something to drink?" Jamie asked, taking out wine glasses, plates and cutleries.

"Not just yet. I had a cuppa before I left the cottage." She smiled at him. "I love your home, especially that fireplace. Is it original?"

He checked the roasted root vegetables in the oven for doneness and shoved them back in again. "Aye, it's an original. This is a crofter's cottage from the eighteenth century, and I've salvaged most of the original fixtures and fittings."

"Love the Christmas tree too. Did you put it up today?" she asked glancing around the kitchen, peering out of the window and touching his collection of fridge magnets.

"Aye, I did."

"Those antique Christmas ornaments are stunning and much better than those plastic baubles you get in shops. I have a few antique ornaments myself. Just too bad, our London flat is not big enough to accommodate a proper Christmas tree." She lifted the lid off the slow cooker and took a whiff. "Mmm, this smells lovely."

He straightened and glanced at what she was wearing. "Sassenach?"

"Hmmm?"

"Why are ye still wearing yer coat? Are ye cold? I thought I put enough wood in the fire."

She grinned. "Oh, this. It's a surprise. Hang on a minute." She turned her back to him, and he waited with anticipation, watching her movements of undoing her coat. If she was wearing a negligee under that coat, he knew he would have a heart attack, and dinner would definitely be put on hold if not cancelled. But he rubbished his thoughts immediately, knowing she wasn't that type of lass. "Close your eyes!" she instructed, and he did.

"Ye're killing me."

"Patience!"

"Are ye naked under yer coat?" he teased.

"You wish!"

He heard rustling followed by footsteps.

"Right, you can open them now."

He slowly opened his eyes, and his gaze immediately landed on the front of her top. It was a Rudolph the Reindeer's face applique complete with a protruding shiny big nose. She was a bundle of red, wearing  red fleece pyjamas with plaid bottoms, and her feet were covered in thick, red woollen socks. He laughed out loud.

"Wait for this. You haven't seen anything yet." Claire fiddled with something from under the hem and pulled the reindeer antler's hood from behind. The reindeer's nose on her front lit up, and the antlers stood lopsided on her head. The hoodie was far too big for her, and it hid one eye. "Ho, ho, ho!" she intonated in a low voice.

He chuckled and pulled her against him. "Ho, ho, ho, indeed. Where did ye get this? This is something for Christmas morning. It's almost as ridiculous as the Christmas jumpers."

"I know, right? As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to get it. Bought it today in Inverness. I thought since we've been doing all sort of Christmassy things together, I'd stick with the theme."

"That red nose is not going to keep flashing like that the whole evening, will it? It's very distracting."

She pressed something from under the top. "Nope. The show's over."

He arched an eyebrow and decided to tease her. "Really? What's underneath that top?"

She blushed, but the smile never left her face. "A hungry tummy."

"Brilliant! Shall we eat then?"

"Sure! I'll help set up the table."

Claire rattled off the things she did with Annalise that day. He was glad her friend had agreed to stay until Three Kings which would buy him more time getting to know Claire better. Jamie didn't want to think of the day when she would go back to London, even though it had been lurking all day at the back of his mind. Watching her work beside him in the kitchen, he was glad she felt comfortable and right at home. He wanted to make good memories with her just in case this was all they would ever have.

They served dinner like they'd been doing it together for years, pouring red wine, plating food he'd prepared and chatting the entire time. They sat opposite each other so Jamie could see every blush, expression and emotion that crossed her face, appreciating the fact she had an appetite, a sense of humour and took a keen interest in his work, life and Broch Mordha. He might have sounded a tad bit like a salesman trying to sell a lifestyle in a remote Highland village, and if she noticed, she didn't give any hints.

When they touched the delicate subject of his PTSD, he realised it was easier to talk about it this time. Claire spoke with refreshing candour, even suggesting alternative healing such as meditation and acupuncture, which he liked and made a mental note to look into it.

Throughout their meal, Claire spoke of her childhood, and in exchange, he talked about his family. From time to time, he would reach out to squeeze her hand so he could see the blush blooming on her cheeks or kiss her, to see the shy smile spreading across her face. Every second with her was a pleasant discovery, and he knew what a lucky bastard he was. How she was without a boyfriend was beyond him but thankful that she didn't have one.

After dinner, they cleared the table and did the dishes. And when Jamie took out Rollo for a short exercise, Claire fed the kitten with a wee bottle Harry had left him.

They took their coffee, a box of chocolate Claire loved, and the unfinished bottle of red wine into the living room. As Jamie put another log into the fire, Rollo curled up next to Claire. It was quite apparent, he wasn't the only one smitten. Smiling, he plopped down next to her and turned on the TV to watch Home Alone.

..........

When the film credits started rolling in the end, Jamie turned off the volume and stretched. He glanced over to Claire just in time to see her unwrapping a Ferrero Rocher chocolate. When she realised he was looking at her, she offered him the already unwrapped sweet. 

He shook his head and smiled. "So, what do ye want to do?"

The room filled with silence as she exaggeratedly contemplated, tapping her chin and scrunching her nose while rolling the chocolate in her mouth. 

His eyes dropped to the delicate lines of her jaw. The smooth, pale skin of her neck and the movement of her throat as she swallowed wreaked havoc with his concentration. He had a very vivid image of what they could do, and they involved running his tongue along the neckline of that ridiculous pyjama top. Since that option would probably send her running out the door, he quickly dismissed the idea. "More movies?" he suggested.

"No. Had enough. Do you know how to play poker?"

"Do I know how to play poker?" He laughed out loud. "I'm a master at the game."

Her eyes lit up. "You have a deck of cards?"

"Aye, I will go and get them." He got up from the sofa and headed towards a desk in the corner of the room. "Always love a game of poker."

"Oh, good. I haven't played for ages."

"What do we play for?"

She cleared the coffee table and crossed her legs. "We'll play for pennies, how about that?"

"I dinnae think I have any loose change."

"We'll think of something else. I'm dealing."

He handed her the deck of cards, put on some classic Christmas song, and then refilled their glasses. He sat beside her and watched with amazement as her fingers expertly flew through the cards with ease, shuffling with lightning speed. While concentrating on his hand, he wondered where she learned how to deal and surmised probably her uncle, the same man who taught her to play pool.

"Alright, here we go, dealer's choice. Five-card stud, ante up."

He glanced up at her. "Wait! We havenae decided what we're playing for." 

"Oh, I forgot. You said you don't have any loose change."

"Maybe we ought to play for the family jewels."

She slapped him on the thigh. "Ha-ha! You funny man!"

His lips twitched. "Weel, any ideas?"

"Can't think of one at the moment."

"Wait a minute ...I have a verra interesting one."

Claire glared at him. "If you're thinking of strip poker, forget it."

He laughed out loud. "No, I didnae mean that. Although I wouldnae mind that." When she arched an eyebrow at him, he grinned. "I meant we'll play for favours."

She bit her lower lip. "Favours? What kind of favours?" she asked suspiciously.

"The first to win three hands gets a free favour from the other. It can be used at any time, like a voucher per se."

Her face suddenly became animated. "Can you use the favour for anything? How about the rules?"

He grinned. "Nae rules and ye can redeem yer favours on anything. Anything at all."

The challenge lured her in like a true gambler following the scent of a big stake. "Very well then, we're playing for favours."

He smothered the jubilant smile threatening to surface and quickly fixed his expression into poker-face, almost licking his lips with glee when she'd agreed.

She dealt, and he almost pumped his fist in the air at the obvious outcome, but he remained silent, watching her replace one of her cards.

After a while, he laid down his cards. "Flush."

"Cool. Two queens. Your deal." Her expression remained inscrutable. God, her poker face is good!

Jamie had to give her credit for keeping her emotions under control. Whoever taught her to play, taught her well and if it wasn't for his past experience, he felt in his guts she'd be one hell of a player to beat. Next, she threw down a pair of aces and yielded gracefully to his three twos.

"Alright, one more hand to go," he announced, subduing the mirth in his voice.

"My deal. I can count, ye ken," she said, imitating his accent. He kept his face impassive as he watched her dainty fingers flitting over the cards. "Care to share where you learn how to play poker?"

He inspected his hand casually. "Played a lot with my unit during my SAS days. Beats sitting around and twiddling my thumbs during long intervals."

"My uncle taught me," she shared. "As well as backgammon and chess."

He threw in a card and replaced it. "I have backgammon and chessboards if ye feel like playing for another time. I'm quite good at both games, in case ye're up for a challenge."

She let out an unladylike snort when she laid down her cards, displaying straight as victory gleamed in her eyes.

Jamie almost felt sorry for her. Not quite but almost.

He whistled low and shook his head. "Good hand." This time he allowed himself to smile. "But, sorry lass, it's no' good enough." He threw his cards down, showing four aces and then cockily stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back on the sofa. "Nice game, though."

She gasped and looked at him with those beautiful golden orbs. "Jamie, the probabilities of four aces in five-card stud are ..." Her eyes widened. "Oh my word, you didn't!"

"What?"

"Why you cheeky sod ..."

"What, Sassenach?"

"Don't Sassenach me. You cheated!"

"No!"

"Yes, you did!"

He shook his head in feigned horror and tried to look offended. "Och, how could ye think that? Surely not! I ken ye're verra good at it, but this is all on luck."

Her pretty eyebrows slammed together. "No way you can get those four aces unless you palmed the cards. Admit it, because I was thinking of doing it myself, but I refrained from doing so!"

"Don't ye think yer accusation is a tad bit harsh?"

"Jamie, you cheated! I know you did. I can't believe you cheated on our date night. Oh, my God! How could you?"

"I did no such thing."

"Jamie!"

"No cheating occurred, Sassenach." He straightened up from his sitting position and smiled. "Now about that favour I won ..." But his voice trailed off when she abruptly stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "Sassenach?"

"You cheat!" Without warning, she propelled herself over the coffee table and into his arms. Air whooshed out of him as she toppled him back onto the sofa and slipped a hand under the sleeves of his sweatshirt, looking for the suspected hidden cards. Jamie grunted as the full weight of Claire landed on him, her intent on finding proof of foul play resolute. He attempted to regain his balance, but she shifted her attention somewhere else, making him fall back again. When her hands slipped into his pants pocket, he realised if she delved any deeper, she wouldn't come up empty-handed. Ah, sweet Jesus!  With no other options, he flipped her onto her back and pinned both hands above her head.

The tie holding her hair somehow became undone during the struggle, causing her chocolate brown curls to spring forth and tumble down, and a few unruly locks to settle on her face. Jamie stared at the snapping golden eyes peeking between the strands, filled with determination despite his more considerable strength. Her chest heaved against her ridiculous top, the appliquéd Rudolf the reindeer staring mockingly at him. Without meaning to, his weight forced her thighs apart, and he wondered if she was aware of both their predicament. Or at least his.

Jamie knew he would be in deep trouble if he remained where he was, as she continued to wriggle under him.

"I know you're hiding the cards somewhere. I wasn't born yesterday, you know! Admit you cheated and I will forget this ever happened."

"Will ye keep still, Sassenach" he muttered. "Ye're torturing me."

She stuck out her bottom lip and blew a hard breath, the wayward curl lifting and blowing sideways, clearing her line of sight. "That's your conscience doing that. Did you know there's a special place in hell for cheaters?"

He muttered a curse under his breath. "Don't ye ever think of the repercussion to yer actions? Ye cannae just tackle a man like that."

"Oh? What are you going to do about it? Tell Santa to put me on his naughty list?"

Her body suddenly started to shake when she burst into fits of laughter at her own words, causing the heat in his groin to surge through his body like a wildfire gone out of control. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! His blood buzzed in his head like a swarming fog, and even though he tried to shift all his thoughts on the fat man sliding down the chimney and getting stuck halfway, all he could only think of was the soft body beneath him. He tried not to breathe and held his body in a tight muscle lock and prayed Claire wouldn't make any more sudden big movements; otherwise, he was going to explode like a schoolboy and look like a glaikit idiot.

But when the realisation of his plight swiftly dawned on her, her mouth formed a comical O, and her face turned bright red, her previous intent on extracting a confession of his cheating, dissipating. 

"Jamie?" Her voice was husky.

He swallowed hard and ignored the fact he had a big fat boner wedged between them. "Did I hurt ye? Didnae mean to be so rough."

"No. I'm fine."

"Are ye sure?"

She smiled, and he inhaled deeply to regain his composure. She smelled like shampoo and flowers and just a hint of fruit flavoured lollies, and he could just about see the pulse palpitating on her neck. Their position made his erection harder, and the way she was looking at him wasn't helping at all.

"You're a big lad," she gulped. 

Ah, shite! "And ye're not helping," he said hoarsely, tamping down a groan.

"Shall I go?"

"No!" He took a deep breath and forced a smile. "Just be still for a moment, aye?"

"Alright."

They laid still for a while looking at each other.

Carefully, he let go of her wrists above her head and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I can stare at ye like this for hours and never tire of it," he whispered. She smiled, and he kissed the smooth line of her jaw. When she tilted her head back, his lips trailed down of their own accord, bowing his body over hers as he worked his way to the side of her neck.

Hard as he was, he didn't move against her. He wanted her to feel safe and everything to be on her terms, letting her know this attraction went beyond sex. He held on to his control with a mental vice grip and simply appreciated the moment. 

His combed his fingers through her curls, feeling the softness of it in his hand as he kissed her softly, never demanding or pushing even if it pained him a lot.

He heard Rollo sigh from somewhere in the house and the crackling of the fire in the hearth. He almost shot out the sofa as small hands tentatively explored his chest and shoulders, before sliding around his neck and up through his hair. Then they moved down his side and waist before her palms settled over the ridges of his stomach. He loved the small sounds she made at the back of her throat and the softness against every part of him that was hard. Every movement and sigh she made, her scent drifted and surrounded him, a heady pheromone, pulling him in closer.

When her hands slipped under his sweatshirt and settled at his lower back, his breath broke and went ragged, and an instant electric tension rose between them, turning their soft, playful kisses heated and more urgent.

As much as it hurt him to do so, he tore his lips away and looked into her eyes. "We dinnae have to do anything ye dinnae want, Sassenach. We can stop right now," he whispered, his voice sounding oddly gruff in his ears. He felt his cock protesting against his boxer shorts, but he ignored the mounting discomfort in his groin.

She shook her head. "No, I don't want to stop. Kiss me again." 

Relief slammed through him as a ton of weight lifted off his back. "Sassenach, are ye sure?"

She nodded. 

He was about to kiss her again when a gentle push of her hands on his chest stopped him.

"I've never done this before," she whispered. 

"What do ye mean?" 

She rolled her eyes. "I meant sex!"

Ah, Christ! A virgin living in London! How is that possible? Even for Broch Mordha, a virgin was a rarity. He shut his eyes for a few heartbeats, and when he opened them again, suddenly she looked unsure, almost embarrassed, and he felt she needed him to step up. He gave her a slow smile to put her at ease. "Do ye come with a user's manual? Never been with a virgin before."

Her face broke into laughter, and the tension eased a bit. "No! And before you start having all sorts of notions about virgins, I'm not all that naive. I have a fair idea of how it suppose to happen."

"Weel, no crash courses needed then," he joked before his face turned serious. "But why me, Sassenach?"

She gave him an unwavering look, her chin tilting up slightly. "Because I've never felt like this before." 

Neither had he, but the wee voice in the back of his head reminded him this lass was the type of lass you brought home to introduce to your parents. Getting involved with her on a deeper emotional level wouldn't bode well for both of them as her life was in London, and he belonged here. He didn't want to hurt her. She deserved a man who could live in her world without falling down to his knees and having one of his episodes. But the gravitational pull between them was unrelenting. He needed her badly, but his conscience compelled him to offer one more out. One more, before he lost sight of the right thing to do.

"We can just continue kissing ...nothing needs to happen," he rasped, brushing their lips together. "Just say the word, Sassenach. I promise ye I wouldnae mind. I'm perfectly happy just to kiss."

Claire's breath caught as she scrutinised him, the weight of what could follow once they'd stripped each other's clothes written in her eyes. Probably in his, too. "I want this Jamie ... I'm ready."

He studied her for a long while, before making up his mind and nodding. "Wait here."

Getting up, he grabbed some blankets and throw cushions from the sofa and laid them out on the floor. And then he went to retrieve some condoms from the bedroom. After a couple of minutes fussing and finally satisfied with his handiwork, he picked Claire up and gently carried her by the fireplace. Though the fire was already slowly dying down, the embers still glowed, lending the room a cosy feel and warmth.

Claire looked up at him and beamed. "Well, I suppose this is the part where you take off your top."

He laughed out loud despite his balls almost on the verge of mutiny. What supposed to be a tense and awkward moment, was turning out to be fun. He didn't need telling twice. Grinning, he dragged his shirt over his head and was hovering over her under a split second. She looked mightily impressed as she pulled him down. "Wow, never seen anyone take their shirt off so fast," she breathed as he pressed his lips on the hollow of her throat.

"Ye should see how fast I can get yers off," he muttered against the crook of her neck. 

She laughed and gently pushed him away. "I don't want my Rudolph top damaged. I'll take my own clothes off, thank you very much."

With his heart in his throat, he watched her stand and peeled off her pyjama bottom first. She had her back to him, and he figured she was trying to hide her blush. And when she took off her top next, his cock roared back to life, and he hurriedly followed suit, taking off his sweatpants, his eyes fixed on the smoothness of her long legs. Leaving her red bra and knickers on, she swiftly slipped next to him, her teeth clattering and her beautiful pale skin covered in goosebumps.

He gathered her immediately under him, rubbing her arms and the side of her body. "How's that? Still cold?" he asked, looking down at her.

She bit her lip and nodded. "Feeling a lot warmer now."

"Christ, ye smell so good."

"And you're so hot." When she realised what she just said, her eyes widened in horror. "I mean you're like a heating pad."

He grinned at her. "I know what ye meant, but I'll take the other meaning any day. It will do wonders for my ego."

She slapped his arm. "Your ego is perfectly intact, I can assure you."

He smiled as he skimmed his hand up her side and gently cupped her breast, waiting for her reaction. When he felt her back arch a little, he brought down his lips to hers, gently thrusting his tongue into her mouth. She let out a tiny whimper, opening and taking each thrust, conscious of her fingernails digging into his shoulders.

He reminded himself to take it slow and make it memorable for her, but when she parted her knees and allowed him to settle between her thighs, he groaned out loud and changed position, so the tip of his erection pressed right into her through their undies. The slow tease of their movements was maddening, and he wondered if she was aware of it. His cock was straining against her where it would slide in effortlessly if there had been nothing between them.

He felt her hooked her thumbs at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down. He helped her by kicking them off while putting his fingers under the edge of her knickers. He paused with bated breaths, waiting for her permission, and when she lifted her hips, he groaned and kissed her long and thorough, pushing the flimsy scrap down her thighs.

He nipped at her lips, then trailed down with his tongue to nibble her neck, his fingers unsnapping the clasp of her bra. Claire flailed her head, seemingly unable to verbalise the reactions her body was experiencing, and he watched her with fascination. Emboldened, he cupped the weight of her breast, rolling her nipple, then gently tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Oh, God Jamie ..."

"It's good?"

She nodded, squeezing her eyes shut and rolling her lips in.

Jamie lowered his mouth and sucked her nipple, his tongue flicking and never letting up the frantic pace, his fingers trailing along her inner thigh, causing goosebumps to erupt on her skin. When he touched her core, she was already wet with need, making his head spin out of control. Fighting the urge to take her now, his index finger traced her folds, rubbing her wetness on her nub. The delicate hitch of her breath hit his ears the exact time his mouth abandoned her breast. 

He met her gaze and sank into the amber depths of her eyes, so far gone with pleasure they turned to molten gold, full of feminine demand that battled past all obstacles and shattered them to pieces. The raw need etched in her features told Jamie she was past the point of no return, that she wanted him now and he knew the feeling.

"Sassenach ...are ye sure?"

"Oh, sweet Mother of God, if you stop now ..." her voice trailed off in a hiss.

"I need to hear the words."

"For God's sake, I want you, Jamie. Now."

Knocking back the reluctance to untangle himself from her, Jamie reared back and reached out for the condom he'd left beside the cushion. He quickly sheathed himself in stretched latex and prowled up her body, settling between her thighs and muffling her requests to hurry with a hard kiss. 

"The first time ye come, I want it to happen while I'm sunk so deep in ye, ye'll never forget who broke it in," he muttered, words muffled by her lips.

"Oh, dear God ..." she moaned.

"Open yer legs wider for me, Sassenach."

She nodded, her fingers running over his cheekbones, lips, chin, as she hiked her knees up. Their breaths raced out of their mouths as he reached down and guided his cock to her opening. Slowly, he pushed inch by inch, allowing her to get used to his girth. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he collapsed and dropped her forehead to hers. 

When he got his breath back, he braced himself on his elbow and looked into her eyes. "Did I hurt ye?"

"Just a little. I hardly noticed. Keep moving." She wrapped her legs around his hips, her fingernails scraping his back lightly on the way down to his arse, which she gripped with hesitation at first, then with more confidence.

With a groan, his hips started to roll of their own volition. He held his breath as heat threatened to flare up in his balls. "Oh fuck, ye feel so good."

"Don't stop ..." she gasped frantically moving her hips against him.

With a hand on her bottom, he lifted her hips effortlessly and drove himself deeper, the last shreds of his control dissolving as he fell on top of her like a dying man. His mouth travelled over hers, and she responded in kind, their tongues twining, their bodies moving in synchronicity to the erotic rhythm and dance. The root of his erection grated against her core and her hips lifted to meet his thrusts, her breaths coming out in pants. It was so breathtaking to watch her pleasure, and what his body is doing to hers, it constricted his heart.

When she dropped her legs from his hips to spread them wider, she let out a strangled moan, and his cock bore down, working her nub. He angled his body for more friction, watching and always conscious of her reaction. When her back arched, and her right leg extended further out, they descended into what felt like wanton madness. She whimpered and raised her hips to meet his thrusts, her inner walls beginning a slow, tight suction of his cock. Jamie was almost afraid to look at her, worried the sight of her would make him lose his restraint and come before her. But it was an impossibility to keep his eyes away when she looked so beautiful beneath him.

He watched her writhe and finesse flew out the window. He fell on her, grunting, sucking in huge gulps of air, pushing her thighs open as he drove faster, listening to her moans of his name, treasuring the throaty awe of them in his ears and all around him. Their mouths joined and gorged, her hands slapping down on his buttocks to pull him in deeper and push him faster. All thoughts of logic, questions and issues suspended as he dipped his head, lowered his mouth over her jiggling tits and continued to pump like a wild beast.

Her body suddenly stilled, before trembling violently underneath him in a climax accompanied by a soft moan, her inner walls squeezing his cock tight. Cursing under his breath, he yanked her legs up and drove himself with a few more hard thrusts to his own peak, a loud groan reverberating from his chest and echoing into the room. He squeezed his eyes shut as his body exploded and spilt his seed. He went from being a bundle of tensed nerves to being utterly devoid of it. 

Utterly spent, he collapsed on top of her, gathering her against him, almost smothering the air out of her. His insides were totally decimated, mind blown and floated down like confetti. 

Moments later, when he lifted his head and searched her eyes, he couldn't stop the widest grin from spreading across his face. And when she returned it with a twinkle in her eye, he fell irreversibly and completely in love with Claire Beauchamp.

..........

The next morning, Jamie got up extra early to let Claire sleep while he did a few chores around the house. He'd kept her up all night, making love and sometime in the early hours of the morning, he'd carried her to his bed. Sleep had been evasive, but this time the cause hadn't been his nightmares or one of his episodes. His thoughts had been filled with the future and its uncertainties instead of being plagued with the past. There were still some niggling doubts lurking in the recesses of his mind, and one of them was his concern when Claire returned to London.

How often had he asked himself in the past twenty-four hours if he could live in London to be closer to her? But now that he had an arboricultural business with Willie, it was doing very well and planning on expanding. He was excited about the community projects he was involved in and committed himself to working long-term. With his episodes and PTSD, the idea of being surrounded by busy streets, chaos, traffics, loud noises, and shoes on the pavement rather than fresh earth paralysed a piece inside him.

Jamie had spent the rest of the night staring into the darkness, wondering what the hell he was going to do. Eventually, some choices have to be made. And he wasn't sure if love would be enough for either of them and if Claire felt the same way.

Taking that leap would only end in heartache and worsen his condition. There had to be some other way. But he couldn't ask her to give up her life and career in London. Or could he? Could he give her what she needed? He shook his head and pushed the bugging thoughts away. They still had the time, and he should focus on that.

After letting Rollo out and bringing in more logs for the fireplace, he made some coffee, answered his emails and read some news on the internet. When his phone chirped and realised it was from his sister Jenny, he groaned. He decided to answer and get it out of the way.

Jenny: I heard all about the lass you're seeing. A city lass, no less. Have you gone mad? Haven't you learned your lessons?

Ah, fuck, I don't have time for this.

Jamie: Enjoy your holiday, and don't worry about me. It's just a winter fling. OK? She's on holiday, and she'll be going back to London. Soon. Happy now?

He left his phone on the kitchen counter and shook his head. This wasn't the text conversation he should be having about Claire. But if it would keep Jenny from busting his balls of all days, he'd play along just to pacify her. He slipped into the bedroom, and when he saw Claire still asleep, he decided to have a shave and shower.

After he was done, he walked into the bedroom and noticed the bed was already made. He searched for Claire, humming under his breath and planning what breakfast he should prepare.

"Sassenach?" he called out. 

No answer. 

She probably went back to her cottage to get a change of clothes, he thought.

He shrugged and went ahead and prepared breakfast, singing along to the song playing on the radio. All I Want For Christmas Is You.

Dear Readers,

Thanking you all for reading and leaving your feedback on the previous chapter. Very much appreciated. It's crunch time now with my writing and preparation for Christmas, but thank God, I'm still on track.

Anyway, I hope this story has given you Christmas joy so far and looking forward to reading what you thought of my latest update. Sending you best wishes and positive vibes. Take care of yourselves and until next time, much love. x

[honeymoonjin]

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 namjoon x reader ~ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 18k 

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 fluff, thriller ~ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 crime!au, detective!reader, candle shop owner!knj

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 with a serial killer on the loose that uses artisan scented candles as inspiration for murders, now is not the time to be falling in love with the man who made them.

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 non-explicit descriptions of murders. one incident of injury, and mentions of blood. cursing. while this involves a serial killer and the causes of death are mentioned, there’s no scenes involving actual murders taking place, or crime scenes. extremely long discussions of scented candles because i can’t help myself. make-out scene but no smut.

𝘈/𝘕 dedicated to the darling @mind-of-a-hardstan​. it’s been a pleasure being your secret santa, and from the bottom of my heart i hope you enjoy <3 thank you to my dedicated team of supporters: my beta reader @honey-boyyoongi​, my partner in crime @hobisgorgeousass​, my resident namjoon stan @jamaisjoons​ and finally the first person to read it in all its entirety and my amazing friend @but-kimnamjoonpersona​. you’re all magnificent and i love you.

Kim Namjoon looks guilty.

That much is immediately clear to you, but it’s not the type of guilt from someone who’s done something wrong. More so, it’s the type of guilt you hold for something out of control, the empathy you feel for others. You can see that it tears him up inside that someone this evil and twisted has drawn inspiration from his store.

The police force didn’t know it was a serial killer. At least, not at first. At the beginning, the murders were so far apart that nobody ever thought to connect them. Almost seasonal, there was one in April, another in late August, one in September and, most recently, the middle of November, last weekend.

You were the one who initially noticed something strange. Perhaps it was your bad habit of lumping all your unsolved cases into one pile of failure, but the more you thought about them together, the more you realised something was odd about them.

In each location, there was a single candle, sometimes melted down to the base, sometimes still burning, and the different causes of death seemed to relate pretty directly to the scent or name of the candle.

And all those candles came from one store. Moni’s Candle Shop, the boutique store that exclusively sold handmade candles. The store owned by one Kim Namjoon.

“It’s so awful that all of these are connected, I… I don’t understand why my candles have anything to do with this.”

You smile softly, though your eyes are dancing around the store. “Nobody blames you, Mister Kim. All serial killers like to have a calling card. At the end of the day, they want credit and attention for their crimes, they want to show off what they’ve done. Deep down, they want to get caught, and it’s my job to use these candles as my path to the killer. To make him face justice for what he’s done.”

Namjoon tips his head, dark locks shifting across his brow. “You’re referring to the serial killer as a he. Do you have a suspect?”

Your eyes dart back to him, ducking your head with a rueful smile. “Force of habit, I’m afraid. Statistically, it probably is a male due to the brutality of the murders, though we’re definitely not ruling out a female yet. We...still don’t have any leads, really.” We have jack shit, you think to yourself, no fucking clue. Coughing lightly to clear your throat, you scratch at your collarbone where the freshly cut lanyard of your ID rests. “If you have any in stock, I’d love to get a closer look at those candles, Mister Kim. The ones from the scenes have been taken into the forensics lab for re-inspection so I’m unable to get my hands on them.”

He seems mildly surprised, eyebrows lifting behind thick black frames. “Oh! Of course,” he sits up and sucks in his stomach to wiggle around the edge of the desk, only pausing once he reaches the doorway to the store floor. “Wait. I don’t actually know what scents they were. I think they might have told me, but I don’t recall…”

You nod shortly and lean back in your chair to free your front jeans pocket, reaching in for your small notepad, flicking a few pages back. Standing up, you join him. “Ah, let’s see… Spring Day, Blue Side, Autumn Outside the Post Office, and Winter Bear. Are they still in stock?”

He hums in consideration, ducking through the low doorway to peruse the aisles. It’s a narrow store, narrow but relatively deep, with two long aisles running down the centre, rows upon rows of candles on every available surface. Towards the front, there are small, tiered tables with layers of gift boxes, and he beelines towards them, sifting through. “Now,” he murmurs under his breath, “those are seasonal candles, so our best bet would be…. Here!” He draws out a squarish cream box with gold detailing. Behind a layer of clear plastic are four mini glass candles, and he lifts up a leg to balance the box on as he delicately pulls off the sticky round tab at one end, pulling out the sleeve inside. “The Four Seasons gift box. I don’t know if your killer used the full size or gift size candles, but these are all I have left. We have a full range every season, and on holidays too, but these are the big sellers so I put them together for our combo deals.” He passes them over to you, using the back of a finger to push his glasses back up his nose. “He has good taste; they’re great candles.”

You glance at him sharply. “He murdered four people. That we know of.”

He cringes at himself. “Sorry, I… I just meant I, uh, I recommend these a lot, sell them a lot. If he bought them off me, I wouldn’t be able to pick him apart in a crowd. It’s hard to keep crack of faces, especially before special holidays. That’s all.”

You drop your gaze to the cardboard sleeve, heavy with the four glass jars. “This is only three of them,” you reply. “Spring Day, Blue Side, the autumn one… this has Serendipity as the winter scent.”

He pouts in surprise. “Oh! Sorry about that. Serendipity is a nice one too. Smells like Christmas cookies.”

“I need Winter Bear,” you remind firmly, though not unkindly. You see the faraway look in his eyes, like he’s recalling the scent, smelling it in his mind, and you understand just how much this craft means to him.

“Of course,” he laughs sheepishly, “come with me. You’re in luck; we only just last week released our full winter range. It’s to the front.”

“That’s interesting,” you muse, mind whirring as you follow him. “So that means our guy must have been in here recently.”

Namjoon stops short, almost causing you to walk into his back. He continues after a shocked pause. “That’s a really good point, I didn’t think of that.” He sends you a dazzling smile, eyes soft. “You’re really good.”

You try to stay professional and neutral, but you can’t help the smile that breaks across your face with a breathy laugh. “Thank you. But maybe save the praise until after I got the guy. You got security cameras?”

“Oh, of course, can’t be too careful!” He deftly plucks a full-size, heavy hulk of a jar from the main display, holding it in his wide palms. His smile freezes, falters, falls. “Well, that is, uh… I have a camera in the office out back and a camera over the front door. So we could pull the records and see everyone that’s come of left, but we wouldn’t be able to see what they got inside the bag.”

You suppress the bubbling of irritation in your chest with a strained smile. “Can’t be too careful,” you repeat with a sour undertone of sarcasm lacing your voice.

He looks put out for a moment, staring silently down at the large glass jar, a milk chocolate-shade of wax poured inside with a thin layer of christmassy red on top. His thumb swipes slowly over the paper label pasted across the front, and shakes his head like he’s breaking a fog. Smiling again, his eyes crinkle warmly behind his glasses. “Winter Bear,” he announces, “here; smell it.”

You wait patiently for him to open the lid, tugging against the friction of the rubber seal, before he holds the wide opening up to your face. You raise an eyebrow, and delicately edge your nose closer to take a sniff. Immediately, your mouth drops open and your eyes widen.

The smell comes in stages, every sniff a brand new experience. First is a hit of cocoa, rich and lush, with a slight complexity that you can’t put your finger on. The smell warms, richens, and finally as you exhale the final hit of tartness lights your senses. You have the sudden urge to reach out and grab his hand as he begins to pull away, the want to hold it closer so you could inhale further, but he lowers his hand and presses the glass lid back into place. Your nostrils flare when they return to the vague honeyed scent of the store, which seems still comforting but so dull compared to that candle.

“That’s incredible,” you admit, “what is that, chocolate and raspberry?”

“Cranberry,” he corrects, a fingertip dragging along the outside of the thick glass, outlining the red layer on the surface. “It’s chocolate, brown sugar, a bit of spiced vanilla, and then that cranberry to round it out a bit, something to cut through the richer scents.”

“And you make these yourself?” you question, eyeing up the sleeve of four smaller jars you were still holding, wondering at what point would be a good time to open them.

He cracks a crooked smile, a dimple poking out of one cheek. “I certainly do! If you’d like to, sometime I could show you my little workshop where I make all these.”

You return the smile, although your eyebrows are knitted in confusion as you turn to look around the store. “I thought it was just the store floor and your office in this building.”

“It is,” he clarifies, delicately removing one of the candles from the box you’re holding, looking over the label as he speaks. “My workshop is at my house. I live about twenty minutes outside of town, a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Seemed a shame to use all that space just on me, so I repurposed some rooms so that I could store more ingredients and melt more wax at a time.”

“Ah,” you say lamely as he cracks open the Blue Side candle, lifting it to his own nose. Your eyes, slightly lidded, stare deeply at the bright ocean blue candle wax. You squint at the label, though it’s behind his tanned fingers and you can’t get a good read. You wait, almost in a trance, for him to stop sniffing and offer it to you.

When he sees you staring, he laughs quietly, a soft puff of air in the otherwise-silent room, and hands it over. Instead of taking it, you rest your hand on his lightly and pull it closer, leaning in. This one’s refreshing, like a summer day on some island, fruity, floral and bright. Your fingers tighten around his unconsciously as your eyes flutter shut for just a moment, inhaling deeply. He coughs, interrupting your refreshing sniff of the candle, and you remove your hand from his hastily, standing back upright with a light pink stain high on your cheeks.

“What scents are in there? It’s very, um, light,” you stutter, cursing the divine scents for scrambling your thoughts.

Namjoon corks it up again and takes the sleeve off of you to replace it. “Some aloe vera and lily of the valley, but mainly its lotus blossom and melon. You like it?”

That’s an understatement. “How do you even come up with these combinations?” Without giving him a chance to answer, you reach out and pop out the spring fragrance, pressing the open jar right up to your nose as he speaks.

His eyes dance at your enthusiasm, and his tongue slips out the corner of his mouth to swipe across and wet his lips. “Half of it is experimenting,” he shrugs, waiting patiently for you to finish huffing Spring Day.

You reluctantly pause your sniffing to look up at him. “And the other half?”

“Trawling through the entire Yankee Candle website.”

You snort, hand jerking in surprise and causing the lip of the glass to bang against your top teeth, pinching your lip painfully. You squeak and pull it away frantically, pushing the little glass lid back on like it’s personally offended you, handing it to Namjoon to put away.

The owner sends you a bemused smirk and returns it to its rightful place in front of the summer fragrance. “I know they smell good enough to eat, but you’re not actually supposed to,” he jibes. “Spring Day is especially delicious though, I must admit. Peach, white tea, freesia and some rosewood for that darker note baseline.”

You nurse your sore lip with your tongue, hoping it doesn’t look too flirty. Or perhaps secretly hoping it does. “I might as well complete the set, then,” you remark, dropping eye contact to take a try of the autumn scent.

“This one’s a heavier scent,” he explains, “Autumn Outside the Post Office is all about those fall fruits and trees. Pomegranate, maple leaf, some juniper berry and orange blossom. This was one of the first seasonal scents I attempted, a good four-ish years ago when I opened, and it’s still going strong.”

A weird, invisible curtain falls, or a coin drops, or a string is cut. Whatever it is, that heady entrancement in the scents vanishes the moment you put that last one back. You feel your face muscles drooping, eyes turning gloomy. “Did the DI tell you what actually happened to those people?”

Namjoon doesn’t need to ask what you mean by ‘those people’. His smile falls, and he sets the sleeve of four candles down on the winter display, pushing aside some white, candy-stripe, and festive red candles to the side as he does so. Morosely, he shakes his head. “All I know is that my candles were found near the scenes. Does the guy just, I don’t know, have a sensitive nose?”

Your eyes are distant, unseeing. You shake your head. “The-” Your voice fails you; unsteady. No matter how many years you have been in this line of work, the sheer grimness of it all never left you. “The murders were very clearly inspired by the scents. That last one, Autumn Outside the Post Office?” You take a deep breath, reaching into your satchel, pulling out a manila folder with several glossy photographs. Handing them over, you watch the disgust, shock, and misery play out on his face. “A postal worker. Clocked out forty minutes before he should’ve. Poor timing, I guess. He was knocked out via a blow to the head with some unclear blunt weapon, probably metal, and maple leaves were shoved down his throat. He suffocated to death just metres away from the staff exit out back.”

The candle shop owner’s voice is soft, almost inaudible. “Oh my god.”

You barrel forth. “That was the third one. The very first murder was originally written off as an accident. A banker who often spent his work breaks in the peach orchard down the street from his workplace was poisoned by the cyanide found in peach stones. One of his colleagues noted it was odd that he didn’t come back to his office after lunch even though he left a candle burning on his desk.”

“Spring Day,” he murmurs, flicking over to the following photo.

“Spring Day,” you confirm. “The next wasn’t for another three months. A lifeguard drowned in the community pool after hours-”

“The lifeguard drowned?”

“He had been let go from his job for arriving to multiple shifts under the influence of alcohol, and that night when he went to collect his belongings after closing, he fell in the pool and drowned. Reports showed a slow-acting tranquilizers in his system. That same drug was found in his apartment, injected into the cut up melons and pineapple slices in his fridge. He must’ve eaten before he left or something, cameras showed him stumbling around too close to the edge of the pool when he got to work, and… well. Authorities were alerted when a smoke alarm went off in the early hours of the morning. A candle from your store was found burning next to a small fire that had been lit inside a metal trash can.”

“Jesus. All three had my candles there?”

“All four,” you correct, “I noticed the connection after the fourth murder.” He’s reached the bottom of the pile of photographs now, his face washed out. Maybe you shouldn’t have shown him, but he needed to know that there were real consequences at play here. You see a flash of red in the picture just below the one he’s currently looking at, and hastily take the stack back off him. There were some things he shouldn’t have to see. “The Winter Bear candle. We’ve managed to keep the gory details from the public, but I’m sure you’ve heard about the head of Gingco Corporate.”

“The business mogul? I thought she passed away at home?”

“She was found slashed up in the bear enclosure at the zoo just outside the main town centre.”

He narrows his brows, black frames slipping down his nose again. “Wasn’t Gingco buying that zoo? It was all over the news.”

“They wanted to demolish it and build a mall, yes. It seems our killer didn’t like that so much. She died from bleeding out. Multiple cuts, in rows to look like bear claws although forensics tell us it was actually a switchblade. Dropped in the bear enclosure post-mortem.”

Namjoon wavers on his feet slightly. “And the candle?”

“On one of the picnic tables facing the enclosure. Burnt down to the wick, so it had been there for a while. Longer than she had been dead, actually. That’s when I started to think it was premeditated. That’s when I began to connect the dots.”

He lets out a shuddering exhale, hand on his sternum, rubbing in a self-soothing pattern. “I don’t understand what my candles have to do with any of this. I just give them interesting names, I don’t…”

“This isn’t your fault, Mister Kim,” you assure, slipping the manila folder back in your bag. “It’s good news, actually. It means that all we need to do is keep an eye on your customers and see if any suspicion people frequent the store. Which is where I come in. My higher-ups suspect the killer might get spooked if you install security cameras inside the store, so we want to avoid chasing him or her away from our one lead. I’ve offered to pose as an employee to keep an eye on things myself.”

“Y- what? I usually work here alone…”

“And now you won’t be.” You reach out your right hand for a handshake. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Mister Kim. I’m confident that we’ll catch this son of a bitch in no time.”

His eyebrows lift at your curse word, but he finds himself nodding instinctively. “Okay, yeah, I can- we can do that. I just need to make you a name tag. Let’s go to my office.”

“This is gonna be easy,” you promise, bottom lip resting on the edge of a takeaway paper cup, inhaling the steam that rises through the thinning layer of foam. “You have so few customers that statistically the next one is probably the murderer.”

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be suffering the same boredom as you. “Oh, it’s not that bad! It’s always slow on a Thursday morning.”

“It’s been slow every morning.”

“Well.” Namjoon sips at his water, eyebrow twitching. “It’s not slow in the afternoons.”

You place your cup down with a thud. “You close in the afternoons.”

He stares at you blankly. “...yes, but that’s just because I’m so busy back home in the workshop making more candles. Anyway, we get more customers on the weekend, just wait and see.”

You can’t keep a stern face, softening at the way his eyes glimmer behind thick glasses. “You still haven’t shown me your workshop.”

“Seems a little forward to already be asking my beautiful coworker to come home with me.”

Blushing, you shake your head and pull up a hand to cover the cheek closest to him. “Very funny,” you deflect, “I bet you just don’t want any girl cooties in your mancave.”

He lets out a loud peal of laughter, one that’s harmonised with the jingle of the overhead doorbell as a customer enters, slipping in and cutting Namjoon short. You curse the timing, wishing you could hear that joyful sound again.

“Hi there, you need any help today, or just browsing?”

Instead of replying, the elder lady simply nods at him and shuffles slowly down the room, going to the ‘florals’ section on the left wall, birdlike posture hunched under several layered cardigans.

Namjoon lets out a breathy laugh. “That’s old Mrs. Chin, she wouldn’t hear a gun if it was shot beside her ear.” His face falls, furrowing his brows. “Poor choice of metaphor. She’s deaf as a bat; anyway, she always comes in to buy a new set of tealights each week.”

“Tealights?” you question in a considering tone, finger lazily running up and down the metal hoops of your spiral bound notepad.

He spots this, and gently rests his palm over your hand, halting your absentminded movement. “If anything tells you she’s not a suspect, it shouldn’t be the tealights, it should be the fact that she’s in her nineties.”

You scoff at yourself, staring at the way his hand dwarfs yours, your wrist peeking out past his thumb. “Case closed!” you announce, putting on a TV-news producer voice. “The Wickerman has been taken into custody, and you won’t believe who it is!”

He chuckles warmly, eyes crinkling, and squeezes your hand once before removing it. As Mrs. Chin comes up with a set of six frangipani and gardenia tealights (Jamais Vu, the eggshell-white packaging says), Namjoon rings it through, chatting away to her like they’re old friends, like she can hear him. Even as she fails to hear what he’s saying, she beams, thanking him profusely as she accepts a receipt and her purchase with slightly shaky, age spotted hands.

She turns, slowly making her way down towards the exit. You reluctantly take your hand off the table, the top of it cold after being let go. “You’re really good with people, you know?”

He shrugs. “She’s a very kind person. Treats me like a grandson even though she sees me once a week at most.” Once she leaves, the door jingling again behind her, Namjoon checks the time. “Just about 1pm; that’s us done for the day. Do you mind getting the door? I’ll go take the cash till out back.”

As you stand to go lock the door and switch the hanging sign to CLOSED like you’d done every day this week with Namjoon, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist.

He looks up at you, still sitting. His eyes search your face, hand tightening on you subconsciously. “Today,” he says softly, reverentially.

You furrow your brows. “Today...?”

He swallows. “Come over to my house. I can show you the workshop. I’m in the last stages of planning a new scent, and I want you to try it.”

You fight the urge to pull back your arm slightly, just enough to that his fingers slip between yours instead of on your wrist. You smile softly and nod. “Today.”

Instead of driving your car behind him, you end up taking him in your passenger seat, him pointing out directions at the last second as every last detail of his surroundings distracted him. As it turned out, he didn’t have a licence, and would simply bike back and forth most days, hiring a moving truck to transport candles to the store once weekly.

It worked out well, the two of you enjoying amiable silence for the most part, the drive only about twenty minutes up a slight incline, becoming gravel roads in the last couple of minutes, winding around sectioned farmland and wind turbine plants, before pulling up a long driveway, wheels crunching the loose stone and coming to a stop in front of a rustic but sturdy-looking farmhouse, complete with a swing seat on the porch, and sills of yellow and pink flowers underneath the windows.

“This way,” he guides the moment you turn the key to switch the car off. Following him as he hops out and scuffles energetically down the side of the house, you hastily lock your car and race to catch up.

Instead of the front door, he takes you to the back, unlocking it with an old-fashioned heavy iron key. It’s equally cosy inside as it looks from the driveway, though the carpet is worn thin and the light he switches on is a little wan. As he takes you down through a small laundry and into what you expect to be a garage, you marvel as he shows you inside.

Clearly all his money has gone into his business. While the rest of the house is homely and humble, his workshop looks like a romanticist version of a mad scientist’s lab. Custom-made shelves that reach the wall display mason jars of every type of ground spice, flower, essential oil and concentrate that you could imagine. From vibrant red freeze-dried raspberry to warm brown nutmeg to the deep purple of pressed violet petals, he had it all. Two full walls were taken up this way; a third was for boxes of finished product, as well as stacks of the empty glasses he poured them in, bundles and bundles of wicks in wooden cases, and rolls of black paper stickers, ready to be stamped with the newest creation.

Directly beside the doorway you came in was a desk teeming with papers and plans, above which a corkboard is hammered into the wall, countless scraps of paper and scrawled phone numbers and dates. It’s chaos, but beautiful chaos.

“Wow…” you breathe, unable to put into words just how magical it is. Even the smell is like nothing you’ve experienced before. Not overpowering, but certainly full-bodied, it’s based in the rich, slightly caramel scent of soy and beeswax, but every sniff, every inhale, is a different shade made up from all the components. Some moments it’s fruity, from a tiny leftover beaker on his desk that has dried wax caked onto a glass stirrer and a delicate wafting of sweet lemon and the tartness of raspberries. As he leads you towards a wide bench of scattered bowls, measuring cups and portable stovetops, you uncover lighter floral scents, heady wood tones, and sensual spices, a harmony that’s addictive the longer you smell it.

“I apologise for the mess,” you hear his soft voice cut in, his hands filling your vision as they group together tools and open mason jars in some semblance of tidiness. “I don’t usually have guests.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, still overcome with the entrancing nature of the room. “It’s amazing, honestly. Which one of these is the one you said you were almost finished with?”

His face lights up, pulling his glasses off and resting them on a spare spot on the bench, blinking as his eyes adjust. He reaches for a somewhat smaller bowl, about as tall as a coffee mug and a little wider, and wiggles it back and forth in his hand with a flick of his wrist, disturbing the viscous, deep purple syrup inside. “Here,” he offers up, “tell me what you think.”

Taking a hold of the glass bowl but preventing yourself from sniffing at it just yet, you gesture at his face. “Ditching the glasses?”

“Hm?” He pats his face dumbly for a moment before his eyes glimmer in recognition. You can see them a lot better without the frames’ obstruction, and you want to melt at the rich brown of them, slightly slanted but widened with enthusiasm as his cheeks pinken. “Oh! No, I just… I read on the internet that if you take away one of your senses the others get better. So I thought- I thought maybe if I couldn’t see so well, I’d be able to smell better. It’s stupid, really, but I think it’s helped so far. I’ve always been a little prone to placebo, maybe.”

You grin. “It’s cute.” He laughs shyly, ducking his head to rub at his heated cheeks. You take mercy on him (and give in to your own temptation), bringing the glass mixing bowl to your nose and breathing in deeply, stopping short when the relaxing, nostalgic scent of lavender fills your nose. Not just lavender, though. There’s plenty of comforting notes that you can’t quite put your finger on, ones that give complexity to this concoction. You hold it with both hands, sniffing audibly. “Namjoon, this is incredible!”

The conversation moving back to something he’s confident discussing, he looks back up at you with a broad smile. “Isn’t it? I’ve been trying to get a lavender scent ever since I opened, and I just couldn’t find the right balance. Everything was too sickly sweet, or smelt like soap or my grandparents’ house. But just in the last couple of days, I was struck with inspiration. Instead of going for more florals or light scents, I used ylang ylang oil and tonka absolute to darken and round out the smell. Makes it less like hospital disinfectant and more like comfort. You like it?”

You smile softly, voice bouncing weirdly as you keep your face directed towards the purple syrup. “Mm, comfort. That’s totally it. It reminds me of like, in the holidays when you have nothing to do so you have a bubble bath at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and it just feels like life is peaceful and perfect and you have all the time in the world.” You let out a deep breath. “What are you gonna call it?”

He has an unreadable look in his eyes. The tiniest quirk to his lips, the softest smile. “4 O’clock,” he answers.

The friendly, dimpled customer-service smile stays on Namjoon’s face long after the door jingles, the group of high school girls tittering away down the street. While he’s distracted tidying up the supplies for gift-wrapping, you let your eyes wander over him shamelessly.

Most of the time, when you spoke to him or thought about him, he was this soft, gentle man with a goofy smile and glimmering eyes. And while that was true, it was only in moments like these that you realised just how large he was. His tender demeanour often had you forgetting his tall frame, broad shoulders and strong hands. It was a juxtaposition that endeared you to know end; the corded body that rested under unassuming sweater vests and plain trousers. But at the same time, all that strength was channeled into his craft; the ease at which he’d lift crates of glass candles wasn’t lost on you, but he’d just sheepishly smile and say you get used to it.

Surely he didn’t have the thickest chest you’ve ever seen just by stocking a candle shop? There was so much you still didn’t know about him, and while your job was focussing on the serial killer, not your temporary coworker, you can’t help that weird bothered feeling in your chest.

Your eyes wander around the inside of the checkout desk. It’s organised chaos, with printed receipts mixed with fresh rolls mixed with notepaper on one end, haphazard piles of business cards and loyalty cards in the middle tucked behind the cash register, and three drawers filled with samples, returns, and stationery to the right.

Hearing him come back and place two fresh cups of tea on the countertop, you reach out to pluck a business card from the top pile. It’s classic off-white with warm bronze lettering embossed on it. You note with humour at the long list of roles between Namjoon’s name and contact details. Owner, creator, manufacturer, manager, storeperson. On the flip side is the friendly, manuscript letting, same as the sign above the door. Moni’s Candle Shop.

“What is Moni?” you question absentmindedly, only half-aware you’re speaking aloud.

“Moni,” Namjoon murmurs from behind you, correcting your pronunciation on the first vowel. “It’s nothing.”

You turn to him with a doubtful smile, eyes teasing. “Oh, come on, it’s your entire brand! It can’t be nothing.”

“Yes, it can,” he defends with a pout, blowing away the steam that emanates from his cup. “Just like FILA is a random word.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “FILA is an acronym. It’s like, the name of the company in French or something.”

He sets his tea down delicately, without having taken a single sip. “Yeah, well, maybe Moni is an acronym.”

“What does it stand for then?”

He turns up his nose petulantly. “I don’t want to tell you.”

You raise your eyebrows dubiously. “Because you don’t have one.”

“I do,” he counters, eyes darting upwards. “It stands for...Mmmmany Objects N-need...Interest.”

You can’t hold your unimpressed stare for more than a few seconds, breaking into a bout of laughter, reaching out to punch him lightly on the arm. “You’re such a dork,” you make out, though your grin certainly removes any bite from your words.

He lets you shove him, smiling down at you fondly. Your laughter slowly fades as he waits for you to finish, eyes crinkling and dimples showing.

“What?” you murmur, cursing how quiet your voice has become, a strange fluttering in your chest making your breath weak.

Namjoon rubs the base of his neck self-consciously. “Moni was my childhood dog. I didn’t have a lot of friends, so he really meant a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, Namjoon…” Now that you think about it, even though he’s charming and charismatic to his customers, you’d never seen or even heard him mention any friends or family. Plus he was the only worker in the whole business, if the impressive resume on his business card was anything to go by.

He laughs, eyes shining. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a charity case,” he teases warmly. “I’m happy. I’m happy now.”

You curse your overactive heart for reading too much into his words. This is a job. Stay professional. Forcing a stabilising breath into your lungs, you nod. “That’s good.”

His smile turns strained, but you only see it for a moment before his attention is caught by the jingling of a bell, a middle-aged gentleman in a business suit, rushing towards the counter even as he loudly chatters away on his phone.

“I’m happy now too,” you admit softly, letting your words be swallowed up. Namjoon’s eyes dart to you with an unreadable look, but he turns back. You don’t think he heard you.

After three days of working beside Kim Namjoon, he names a candle after you. After a week and a half, you begin to realise you have a crush on him.

After two weeks and one day, there’s a fifth murder.

It twists your heart, to see the red and blue flashing lights flooding the windows to Moni’s Candle Shop, illuminating Namjoon’s face and reflecting off his glasses as he squints and holds up a hand to protect his eyes.

You’re the first to get out of the car, rushing over. The sign is twisted to CLOSED as Namjoon exits; with a coat on and a shoulder bag, he looks like he was on his way out. Good timing, you suppose.

He’s too frazzled to greet you, hair already disheveled from running his hands through it nervously. “What’s going on, Y/n?”

“Silver Spoon,” you rush out, “who bought Silver Spoon?”

“Huh?”

You sigh and push past him, opening the front door and cringing at the ring of the overhead bell, once for you and a second time as he follows closely behind. “There’s been another one,” you explain bitterly, “I need you to write down a list of all the customers you can remember that bought Silver Spoon.”

Namjoon lets out a shuddering breath. “God, okay, um…” You watch impatiently as he searches behind the desk for a scrap of paper, settling on the back of a receipt as he scribbles, eyes lifting skywards every time he has to try and think.

“Is there anyone that you remember that’s bought the other candles too?”

“I- I don’t know, just let me write th-”

“Well, think, Namjoon, people are getting murdered!” You’re too heated to pay attention to the crack in your voice, though he pauses and looks up with furrowed brows.

He hands over the receipt with eyes, dark with hurt. “You think I don’t know that? You were the one that was here this whole time to try and find the guy. So tell me, Y/n; did you notice anyone strange buying Silver Spoon?”

Your eyes prickle. Maybe that’s why your blood is boiling now, as you stare at the shop owner across from you. No, you didn’t. You were too busy enjoying your time with him, too busy marveling at the warmth he exuded with his customers and his craft, too busy falling for him. You swallow the rising lump of self-hatred at the back of your throat. “Thank you for the names, Mister Kim. I’ll be in touch.”

His face changes, wounded puppy-like eyes replaced with concern in a fraction of a second. “Y/n, are you-?”

“Have a nice day.” You’re out of the door and back in your car before tears of frustration slip down your cheeks.

Namjoon fidgets in the corner of your vision. It would irritate you, only you’re determined to ignore him completely as much as possible for the sake of your job. You keep your head low, focussed on your work, trying to find links between the locations, the motives, the choice of candles, anything.

“So, you won’t even look at me now? All because I couldn’t write down all the names.”

You exhale, staying silent for a moment as you finish your scrawl, refusing to look up even as you reply. “I’m not looking at you because I’m trying to do my job.”

“You were doing your job earlier. You looked at me then.”

You feel your spine stiffen. “And then somebody got stabbed to death by a tree branch.”

He baulks, visibly flinching even out of the corner of your eye. “Cypress or birch?”

You sit up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s your fucking question? Silver birch. It was a snapped-off branch of silver birch. She was found in the forest about 20 k north of here.”

“She?”

You throw your pen down and sit back in your chair. “Im Jee-hwa,” you spit out. “I trust you to keep your mouth shout because the Im family certainly don’t want it getting out, but she was the fifth victim.”

Namjoon frowns. “The chaebol? Last I heard, she was in jail.”

You shrug. “Last night, she got bailed out by her father and spent the night at their family residence. According to various witnesses of relatives and staff, she left before ten in the morning and was discovered less than two hours later by a hiker. Stabbed to death with a broken off branch - no prints, of course - and a silver spoon lodged in her throat, deep enough to damage her vocal chords.”

Namjoon’s hand rises up to his neck, wincing in sympathetic ache. “God, and she was only in her early twenties.”

“Twenty-two,” you specify glumly. “God, the poor girl. Who knew being in jail for tax evasion wasn’t the worst part of her week?” You lean forward, rubbing your face tiredly. “Nobody apart from the residence staff, some of the Im Corporation partners and Im’s family knew about her release the night before. Silver lining is that we can narrow our suspect down to that pool of individuals. Bad news is that her mother estimates it at around eighty to one hundred people because of the likelihood of the news spreading amongst more of the Im Corporation’s workers overnight. Miss Jee-hwa was quite the hot topic, it seems.”

“Jesus.” Namjoon pauses for a bit, like he doesn’t know what to say. “Still, I don’t see why this means you need to ignore me completely. Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together?”

You turn your head again, breaking away from his hopeful eyes. Even just seeing his hand resting on the table beside yours, fingers flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, makes your heart tug in ways you just can’t afford to indulge in. “We’re going to have to create a promotion. Something irresistible that inspires all the customers coming through that door to sign up their name and contact details.”

His voice is lost. “Y/n?”

“While I try and find the connection, and the tech team start pulling background checks on everyone at the house and the Corporation headquarters that night, we’re going to keep track officially of every single person who purchases a candle. Hopefully we can track somebody down before another incident, but if not… There’s no way we won’t be able to find our guy if we compare your list, the people that knew about Jee-hwa, and the customers from now on. There’s no way,” you reiterate, unsure whether it’s you or him you’re trying to convince.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Namjoon agrees. “I usually run a Christmas competition anyway. I’ll whip up a sign-up sheet. Let’s hope they use their real na… Y/n?”

The use of your name brings you back, and you turn to him, eyes wide. “Tax evasion,” you profess in a hush.

“Sorry?”

“Tax evasion. Im Jee-hwa had all the money in the world, and she was still selfish. Our killer put a silver spoon her throat, just like that old insult about rich people born with a silver spoon on their tongues. Yes, it’s like the candle, but it’s some sort of… of sick irony that relates to the victim.”

His eyes are wide, brows poking over the top of his thick frames. “He’s playing god.”

“He’s playing the judge and jury,” you correct. “Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.”

Namjoon hunches over your shoulder as you begin to flip through the pages of your file, going through the details of the previous murders. “Do the others fit?”

You squint. “Some. The drunk lifeguard being drowned, for instance. But I bet if we went digging in their personal lives a little more, we’d find links. The candles aren’t just the method, they’re the motive. Give me a second, I need to call my superior and get the investigators on this."

"O-Okay, I'll sort out the Christmas stuff," Namjoon hurries out, standing as you do.

You're already dialling when his hand comes into your line of vision, gently wrapping around your forearm and squeezing reassuringly.

"We'll get him, Y/n," Namjoon promises, "you're an amazing detective."

You soften, flicking him an appreciative smile as you raise the phone to your ear, but your heart sinks. Maybe that's not enough.

Things return to the way they are, for a while. With every name you write down, every candle you sell (far more than the previous weeks as Christmas grows nearer day by day), and every suspect your investigation team crosses off the list, you loosen up, feeling more positive.

Nothing stops the dread you feel checking your phone every morning, and there's nothing better than the overwhelming relief you feel when there hasn't been news. It's illogical, you know; if there was another murder, your superiors wouldn't hesitate to wake you. Part of the gig. But still, it was nice to clear your notifications and breathe easy for a few moments.

Namjoon was doing good on his end of the deal, persuading all the customers to sign up for the Christmas prize pack, no matter how reluctant, and you siphoned photocopies off to the investigators, adding to the backlog more background checks to run and alibis to clear.

"God," you groan, stretching out your limbs with a guttural noise that morphs into a wide yawn. "So busy yesterday, and suddenly it's dead quiet. How can it be this slow on a Saturday?"

"It's a Sunday."

"Is it?" You consult your phone with another groan. "Fuck, I'm reaching the drop-off point."

"The what?"

You let out a tired smile at Namjoon's comical look of confusion. "The drop-off point," you repeat. "It's something my friends and I came up with in school. Apparently, most cases go cold right when the police or detectives or whoever get compliant and lazy, thinking they have a perfect net placed out. They're convinced that they'll catch the sucker, so they sit back and wait, only for a hole to form right under their noses and the suspect to get away. That's the drop-off point. Aren't you bored?"

"Hm?"

"Bored. We think, 'oh, we just need to keep writing down names and we'll get 'em.' But maybe we're so focussed on writing names that we're missing something really obvious that we'll regret for years to come. Don't you think?"

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, letting it sink in for a moment. "I think you're worrying yourself over nothing. This whole time our first major in was that the person is a customer. They can't have bought all the candles at once; not only would I probably remember someone coming in and ordering five or so specific candles, but some of the later candles weren't even released when the first murder happened. So we know for a fact they're coming back to get candles multiple times. And nobody has left here with a candle without writing their full name and contact details down, so we're fine. You're fine."

You stare at Namjoon for a few moments, eyes roaming over his face. The dimple that's emerged with his soft smile, the warmth of his eyes and the earnestness in his expression. Your heart aches at the sight, mouth filling with a million things you wish you could say to him. "Thank you," you settle on. "I needed that."

His smile widens, and his mouth opens to reply, but instead of his caramel voice, you're greeted with the metallic buzz of your phone vibrating on the desk.

"Fuck," you interrupt, snatching it off the counter and feeling your good mood sour with dread at the ID. You answer it with a worried frown, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Please don't tell me there's been another," you ask of your superior.

The line is silent for a moment. "We need you down here, Y/n. Bring any names you have so far. The gap between has shortened yet again; he's getting impatient. Or addicted. Desperate, perhaps, if he thinks we're onto him. Either way, you better have something. I'll see you at the station."

Your stomach turns when the line goes dead.

Namjoon's hand rests on your shoulder, but you have to shake it off to stand and reach for your coat. He takes it back, flexing it awkwardly. "There's been another," he says, more of a statement than a question.

"The drop-off point," you confirm bitterly, "he's slipped through the net yet again. I was careful this time; not a single person that seemed out of place, or with odd behavior. Nothing."

"Hey," Namjoon soothes, eyebrows knitting in worry as a customer enters, a young child in a school uniform and backpack, preventing him from saying any details. "It's okay. You have the names now, it's time to compare them and like you said last week, there's no way we won't be able to narrow it down. You've got this."

A headache forming between your temples, you grab the clipboard of Christmas prize signups, and leave out the back, glancing behind you at Namjoon's tensed form as he puts on a smile for the young customer.

"It's him, it's fucking him, I know it," you rush out as you hustle down the corridor, your boss pacing to keep up.

"Are you one hundred percent certain?" Kim Seokjin, the man you'd been reporting to on this case, halts you with an arm across your chest. "We haven't finished going through the other suspects. There could be others that match better. We don't even know that he knew all of the victims."

"It's him," you promise, eyes bright with conviction. "Cha Giho. In-house chef at the Im residence. So he knew Jee-hwa was out. And he frequented the shop, I sent Namjoon a text of his ID photo and Namjoon recognised him as a regular."

Seokjin's face twists in disapproval. "Jesus Christ, Y/n, you can't do that, it's private information. Besides; you said you remember speaking with him. You didn't get any serial killer vibes?"

"I didn't speak with him; Namjoon did. I was just with him at the desk. He wanted Namjoon to recommend a candle for a forest getaway, Jin, it's fucking him!"

Seokjin sighs out slowly, eyes closing for a moment to maintain composure. "Okay. I'll go with your gut on this one, Y/n, but only because I trust you. We'll go to his place tonight and take him in for questioning on suspicion of multiple murders. If you're wrong on this, Y/n-"

"I'm not wrong," you promise, "I'm not." Your face softens, staring up at the man that you had developed a close working relationship with over the past few years. The man you had begun to see as a personal hero, or an older brother. "Jin. Thank you for trusting me on this. Keep me posted."

"Of course." He pulls you into a brief but tight hug, pressing a kiss to your hairline, and pulling you back by your shoulders to hold you at arm's length, staring intensely. "Now listen to me. You go home and you stay home. Lock the doors, bolt them, everything. On the odd chance that he's not at home or that he finds out we've singled him out, I don't want him to freak out and go against his own sick brand of justice and seek out revenge instead. The last thing we want is a dangerous man like him becoming spontaneous. Understood?"

You nod. "Understood."

He doesn't let go. "And don't be stupid and go track down Mister Candlestick Maker either. We've given him a call to lock up and go home, he's safe. Please; be selfish for me and stay home and stay safe."

You pout playfully for a moment, but sober up when his expression doesn't changes. "You too, Jin. Send the SWAT team. I need you alive to bother me."

He scoffs, but his eyes twinkle with fondness, and maybe a little teary sentiment. "Okay, kid, off you go, I have a suspect to detain."

"Aye aye, Captain."

"What are you doing here?" "Being stupid," you answer through the crack in the door, "now let me in."

Namjoon sighs, shutting the door to remove the chain and opens it back up again, ushering you inside with a cautious look outside after you. Closing it securely behind him, he turns to you. "Why are you here?"

You push past him, grabbing his woolly sweater by the sleeve to pull him after you. "I saw you burn yourself with your own candle wax last week because you wanted to read the label on the base right after you poured it. There's a serial killer on the loose, I don't trust you to keep yourself safe." "Thanks," he says flatly as you sit him down on his plushy couch, standing beside, knees almost touching his. "To be fair, there's been a serial killer on the loose this whole time."

"All going well, he gets detained and know we found him out. All going poorly, he manages to evade the authorities and goes on the run, knowing we found him out. I don't like those odds."

"Don't you have faith in your own colleagues?"

You whirl around with a glare, arms crossed tightly. "Aren't I allowed to be scared for you?" you ask in a small yet biting voice, hating the way it trembles. "Can't you just let me take care of you? Keep you safe?"

He nods slowly. "Sit down," he instructs gently. He waits until you do as he says. "Now," he begins, "what's really bothering you? There's something else going on here and both you and I know it."

You purse your lips, tucking your legs up, resting your chin on your knees and wrapping your arm around them. "Crystal Snow."

"Sorry?"

"I never told you," you answer, though deep inside you know full well this isn't what he meant, "I never told you what candle the last murder was based off. It was Crystal Snow."

He clears his throat lightly, eyes dull as you dodge his true question. "That's Christmas release candle just like Silver Spoon. Another woody one, too. Pine needles, fir, white musk, rosemary and cedar. Hard to get it totally white with those ingredients, but... That's beside the point. Was it in a forest again? I know we have pine trees in the area."

You shake your head numbly, only just noticing the warm fireplace to the left of the couch when it crackles. Somehow, you hadn't felt any of its warmth since arriving. "Father of two young children. Found by the older one that morning when he went outside to play in the snow. His father was buried in it, frozen. His head and shoulders were stuffed into a kennel."

"A kennel?"

"It's from their dog. Wife says it wasn't used anymore. The victim used to always make the dog sleep outside in the kennel, but it wasn't properly insulated. Just got back from the vets after getting pneumonia last week."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "At least we've got him now, Y/n. It's over." He stands up suddenly, and you look up at him. "Do you want a cup of tea or something?" he offers. "Now that you're here, I'd rather you not go back outside, so we might as well get comfortable."

You try to push your worries from your mind, simply giving him a soft smile. "Tea sounds nice, thank you."

As you listen to him tinker away in the kitchen, you shuffle further across the couch in the direction of the fireplace, occupying the space he left warm. There's a window to the left, and you rub your forearms through the fabric of your long-sleeved top, looking outside as flakes of snow pile against the sill, partially blocking your view of the white abyss beyond, vaguely hilly like the terrain of Namjoon's backyard. If nothing else, it's much more peaceful here than at your place. More quiet.

You straighten up suddenly, a shiver running up your spine. Too quiet.

You jump up, rushing into the kitchen and feeling dread shock your system like a splash of cold water when it's empty. Surely he didn't leave a door unlocked... "Namjoon?"

"Yeah?"

You jump at the voice behind you. "Fuck, Namjoon, where were you?"

He stands in a now-open doorway, one hand behind his back as the other grips the doorknob. "In the workshop," he answers, jerking his chin back to gesture the room itself behind him, adjoining to the kitchen.

You sag in relief, but frown a little. "I don't remember coming through the kitchen last time."

"Two entrances," he explains. "This actually used to be a walk-in pantry but I knocked down the doors so there was some extra space." He shakes his head as if he's clearing it, then coughs lightly, eyes focussing in on yours intensely. "Y/n, I have something I want to give you-"

"A heart attack," you interrupt, smacking his chest. "Seriously, Namjoon, you disappeared and I thought something had happened!"

He smiles widely, and you fight to stop from instinctively returning it. "You really do, huh?"

Your face crumples in confusion. "I do what?"

"Care for me," he finishes in a touched voice, brown eyes soft like butter. "I...I thought so for a while, but I never..." He clears his throat again, and whips his hand out from behind his back so quickly you jump, brandishing a glass jar. "Here," he declares, "I made this for you."

You look down in wonder, seeing a familiar shade of purple fill the glass. "Namjoon..."

"4 O'Clock. The lavender candle. Years, and I couldn't perfect it. And then you came along and I found myself thinking about you every minute of every day and it just... it just came to me thanks to you. Everything just makes sense now. I finally mixed the scent with the wax, and I want you to have the first one."

You let him place it in your hands, and you look down at it, stunned. Your thumb runs over the paper sticker, pressed with a stamp. Just three lines, in varyingly sized font.

"So?" Namjoon takes a deep breath, eyes brimming with emotion, with affection and hope. "I kept telling myself I was being delusional, or just convincing myself and seeing what wasn't really there, but after today... You really care for me. And I care for you too, so much, Y/n. I've totally fallen for you."

You swallow thickly, delicately setting the unlit candle down on the kitchen counter beside you.

Namjoon's face falls, his whole body deflates, brows knitted in confusion. "Y/n?"

You can't bear to hear the hurt in his voice. "Namjoon..." you breathe, chanting it like a prayer. Perhaps in some ways, it is. A plea for salvation. Namjoon. "I came to you for my work. And... now that we know who it is, I'm going to have to leave tomorrow now that my work is done. For the integrity of the case, I have to remain professional. Whatever my feelings are-" you break off, heart breaking at the way he looks up in renewed hope. "Whatever my feelings may be, I can't act on them."

Namjoon nods slowly, trying to keep his face neutral as he looks down at the candle sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench, but also at the way your hand hovers, fingers resting on the edge like they can't bear to leave it completely. Finally, he lifts his eyes to your face, searching for an emotional vulnerability that you can't help but imagine is clear to see.

Silently, with only the blanketed hush of the snow outside to surround you in this moment, Namjoon takes one step forward, so that you would have to crane your neck to keep his gaze. So that your bodies almost touch. So that he can rest his palms on your cheeks, cupping them gently and tipping your face up to meet his. "Then please," he begs, voice barely more than a low whisper, "let me act on mine."

The lightest gasp leaves your lips before he bends down and kisses the sound away, warm and sweet and desperate, cradling you like he's scared you'll turn to dust beneath his fingers if he's not perfectly gentle. A murmur comes from his throat, something you think may be your name, and a wall inside you breaks, a cord snaps.

Reaching up, you wrap one hand around his wrist and the other in the fabric of his collar, pulling at it to deepen the kiss, and he melts, taking short steps forward as you shuffle back, until the small of your back presses against the kitchen counter and you arch over it a little with the deepness of his kisses, growing more fevered after receiving a positive response.

You shouldn't be doing this. But god, it feels too good to stop, your heart beating so fast that you feel it where your chests press together, senses going haywire until you feel drunk on him, like the only oxygen in the world is inside Kim Namjoon's mouth, the swipe of his tongue against your lower lip like a burst of euphoria, a gasp of fresh air that saves you from drowning.

One of his hands slips back further, winding into your hair and cupping the back of your head, and you tremble as he presses you so fully against him, even his leg slipping between your thighs so that not a single millimeter of space keeps you apart.

His skin is so hot where it touches yours that you feel on fire, and you have the sudden urge to rip off your top so that you can bare yourself to him, even simple layers of fabric too much separation to handle.

He pulls away reluctantly to pant, lips pink and swollen, pupils blown wide, and you follow suit to catch your breath.

"Y/n," he finally makes out through gasps, thumb rubbing mindlessly at your cheekbone, "if you're going to regret this in the morning, please stop. I can't- you can't give me everything only to take it away again. I'm willing to wait. Until they arrest Cha Giho, until they convict him, until you hand in your final report, I don't care, I'll wait for you. When we do this it can't be a mistake." He stares at you earnestly, openly, hopelessly.

Your eyes widen, taking in his words. "Namjoon, I... Are you sure? I promise I want you, but... if they call you up as a witness and we've been sleeping together, it could totally invali-"

"I know, I know, it's okay," he reassures. "I understand." He gives you a fond smile. "Just knowing you feel the same is enough for me."

You nod, a strange blend of relief and regret mingling inside you. "Thank you, Namjoon. I'm sorry."

He lets you stay entangled like this for a few more bittersweet moments, before gently slipping his hand out of your hair and letting his other fall from your face, stepping away. "Don't apologise, there's no need. Now; I think we've both had enough excitement for one night. I might skip the tea and get straight to bed."

You stand up straight again on slightly shaky legs. "I can take the couch."

"You could," he jibes with a grin, "or you could just sleep in the spare bedroom."

You laugh, poking his rumpled sweater. "What a gentleman."

He shrugs with a warm smile, turning to lead the way. "And just because we aren't sharing the same bed," he calls out over his shoulder, "doesn't mean you can leave without saying goodbye."

"I would never," you promise.

The call comes in the early hours of the morning. Enough for you to be unceremoniously ripped from unconsciousness, the deepest sleep you ever remember having. You’ve purposely set your boss’ ringtone to be the most annoying, whiny preset tune you could find so that it would wake you when needed, and you regret that decision now as the sharp blue light causes you to wince.

“What is it?” you croak, forgoing pleasantries.

“Can you contact Kim Namjoon? He’s not answering his phone.”

You frown, mind feeling two steps behind as you struggle to process his words. “Answering his pho- What’s going on, Jin?”

“He left a note,” your boss explains. “At his house, Cha Giho left a note. I need to speak with Mister Kim.”

You sit up like a bolt. “He what? It’s him, then, it’s definitely him? What did it say?”

Jin lets out a little breath of forced patience. “Can you pass on a message to Mister Kim?”

The Mister Kim that was currently sleeping just down the hall. “I could probably work something out,” you answer. “What did the note say, Jin? Is Namjoon in danger?”

“Namjoon,” Jin repeats blankly. He goes silent for a moment. “...You didn’t go straight home when I asked, did you?”

You huff, jaw tensing. “Now’s not the time, okay? If Cha Giho is still out there, then I need to know what he said in that note, Jin. We don’t need another body.”

Even through the phone connection, you hear the reluctant clicking of his tongue. Jin clears his throat and begins to read. “‘All these months I had hoped you would recognise me. You were always happy to recommend me a candle every time but yet you never asked me my name or how I was doing. I’m sick of taking justice out on them, treating your word like God. I want this to end tonight. I’m going to take my justice out on you.’ That’s it, that’s all he wrote. So wake up Mister Kim or don’t, but whatever you do, make sure the house is safe and that you two stay there. Got it?”

“Of course,” you reply, but your mind is already whirring, getting up and tugging on your shoes with one hand. “Listen, Jin, I’ve gotta go, I want to wake up Namjoon so he knows what’s going on. Better to stay alert and aware. Thanks for the call.” You hang up before he can respond, and break into a hasty jog the moment the call ends.

You didn’t know if Cha knew where Namjoon lived. You didn’t know how or when or where he was planning to strike. But you knew the one thing that could tell you.

You write a note for Namjoon in rushed but legible handwriting, instructing him to stay inside and stay safe, that you just needed to visit the store quickly to check up on something. After making sure all the curtains in the house were drawn, the windows were firmly shut and the doors locked, you leave, the front door clicking and locking with a finality that steels you.

You drive in tense silence, eyes flitting all over the road in front of you, at the milky pools of yellow your headlights cast onto the gravel. Part of you is expecting the middle-aged man to be crouched behind a bush with an old-timey revolver, or screaming down the road with a bloody butcher knife. Years you’ve been working this job, and still these fantasies have a tendency to overtake you. The entire drive, only a few cars go past you, none looking particularly unusual.

You realise your mistake the moment you pull up across the road from the silent row of stores that house Moni’s Candle Shop. You also know it’s too late to go back.

Each one of those stores are dead quiet, totally black. In a town this small, there weren’t even any neon lights that would illuminate the streets all night. You can barely see by the wan glow of the streetlamps, few and far between, but even if they weren’t there, your eyes would be drawn to Moni’s anyway.

Easily visible through the glass of the door, sitting on the front display, is a single candle with a warm flickering flame.

You flick your engine off, and slump backwards in your seat, kicking out with a cry of frustration. He wasn’t going to Namjoon. He was going to let Namjoon come to him.

And now that you’re here - and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s watching out - even if you turn around and leave, there’s nothing to say he won’t follow you back.

Not for the first time in your career, directly disobeying and lying to your boss hadn’t worked out as well as you had intended. You had thought that checking out the list of customers’ names and their purchases would aid you, that perhaps if you looked up the latest candle Cha Giho had bought that somehow you could predict what move he’d make, but it seems it’s too late for that.

You stay like that, in your car in the dark, for about twenty minutes, trying to figure out a game plan. You didn’t fancy calling your boss and having him chew you out and suspend you, but at the same time it wasn’t like you could wake Namjoon and get him to bike all the way down at four in the morning. If Cha saw police sirens, he’d definitely split and then you’d be no better off. And the longer you waited, doing nothing, the more vulnerable you were, just a sitting duck in your car.

With a steeling breath, you throw open the car door, stumbling out into the frosty air, cursing as a cutting breeze saps the heat from your body. As you cross the road, you keep an ear out, ducking your head to send a text to Jin anyway, just a GPS location marker, immediately putting your phone on Do Not Disturb afterwards. As much as he knew how to bite your head off when you fucked up, you’d rather be on his grumpy side than six feet under. You were reckless, not stupid.

The front door is unlocked. It shouldn’t be, but you suppose Cha was courteous enough to make the way easy enough. The bell jingling is noisy enough to make you jump, and you warily hold up your arm in a protective stance, eyeing the shadows.

Luckily, you aren’t immediately assaulted by an attacker, and the door closes behind you, still unlocked. The moment you take a breath, a rich scent fills your nose; caramelised with a warm spice to it. Even as you need to stay alert, it begins to relax your tense muscles. As you breathe it in, you take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the dim inside of the store. Orange plays across your eyes from the warm flame of the candle, but it doesn’t reach far, and you can’t see very deep in the store. There’s no one immediately in your vicinity, but that doesn’t mean Cha isn’t somewhere in the store.

“Come out,” you call, relying on your experience in the field to keep your voice stable. “I know you’re there. Let’s do this the easy way; we already have your written confession, so you might as well cooperate with me now.”

You wait for a moment, but you can’t hear anything, not even a rustle of fabric or a breath. He was going to do this the hard way.

Sighing, you move forward with cautious steps, approaching the display table that houses the candle on one of its upper tiers, right at easy arm’s reach. Taking care not to disturb the melted wax inside, you lift it, trying to make out the paper label. With light coming from within, its shadowed in black, and you huff, reaching in your pocket to pull out your phone, using the light to see.

You suck in a breath. So he had planned on killing Namjoon here, then.

“Very funny,” you announce flatly, “Magic Shop, huh? Did you pick this one yourself?”

Still, the room stays silent, and you frown. Normally by now the killer would have either grown defensive, smug, or aggressive. You weren’t prepared for the total lack of response. A niggling thread of doubt begins to knot itself inside your chest. You glance down at the candle one more time. The wax itself is a glossy tan, but almost the entire top third, if not half, is molten, tipping around the sides. This candle has been burning for hours.

With the cold splash of realization running down your spine, you slam the candle back on the display table, cursing when the wax spills out, pouring over your hand. You recoil like you’ve been stung, rubbing at the burning over your knuckles, an angry red welt already rising on the skin.

Doing your best to ignore it, you turn your phone flashlight to the rest of the store, forcing yourself to investigate the whole interior just to confirm Cha isn’t still there, or hasn’t left anything behind. Even though your heart is screaming at you to leave, you dutifully look in every human-sized nook and cranny, taking just enough time to confirm what you already know.

Cha isn’t here.

Magic Shop was never Moni’s, it was Namjoon’s workshop.

And you’d left Namjoon alone there.

It’s a good thing it’s the middle of the night and there aren’t many cars around. You floored it like never before, very nearly careening off the road on several turns on the windy road back to Namjoon’s house, and you just about crashed into his house with the speed at which you approached it, not even bothering to fully turn off your car as you rush to the front door, banging on it wildly.

As you whack your fists against the solid door, numb to the sharp pain of your burned skin impacting on it, you scream Namjoon’s name, loud enough for your throat to go raw. After a minute with no reply, you push back tears and begin to run around the perimeter, swearing in terrified frustration as all the windows and doors are as securely shut as when you’d left them.

Cha was long gone when you arrived at Moni’s Candle Shop; there was no way you had beat him here, no way he wasn’t already inside. Barely aware of the tears blurring your vision, you reach into your pocket for your phone, shakily dialing the one person you knew would pick up without delay.

“Jin,” you sob out the second the other line picks up, cringing at the loud noises of police sirens that floods his end, “I was wrong, he’s not at the store, he’s here, he’s-”

“Y/n, where the fuck are you?”

You freeze your frantic pacing around the back of Namjoon’s house at the harrowed tone in your boss’ voice. Even as you threw around the f-word like crazy at work, Jin had never once sworn, not at you, not at anyone. “I’m- I’m at Namjoon’s house, Jin, I just got back here after-”

“You went to the store right after I told you to stay put, you reckless fucking girl, do you have any idea how terrified I was when I got here and couldn’t find you anywhere?”

“Got here? You went to the shop?”

The piercing noise of sirens fades away slowly, like Seokjin’s walking further away, and you can hear him puffing into the phone, shallow breaths. “Of course I went to the shop, Y/n, because I knew how stupid you can be and I was fucking right! You’re just lucky you didn’t get hurt.”

Your eyes widen. “No! Jin, no, Cha hasn’t disappeared completely, he’s here, at Namjoon’s house, I know it! I’m stuck outside, Namjoon isn’t responding, I’m-” you break off, voice cracking violently as a sob bubbles to the surface. You let fresh tears run hot tracks down your face. “God, what if he’s dead already, Jin? I can’t-”

“We’re going to come down there, Y/n, I’ve already sent out the rest of the squad cars that stayed at the station, they should get there first. Just stay safe, okay? This isn’t what you want to hear but if Cha and Namjoon are both in there, then he’s probably already dead, Y/n. You know that, it’s what your training tells you, so it would be foolish of you to break in without backup…” He trails off with a sigh. “But you’re not going to listen to any of this. I don’t know why I bother.”

You hiccup, using the light of the moon to try and spot some rocks that would be of use in breaking a window. “I can’t wait outside, Jin. I can’t.”

Jin goes silent for a moment, the only sound a muted thud of a car door opening and then closing again. “...The profiling team have kept researching Cha. The pulled medical history shows he had surgery on his right knee in March of this year.”

You use your other arm to chuck a heavy rock at one of the back bedroom windows, ducking and turning away to protect your face from any stray shards. You hear Jin sigh at the noise. “Thank you, Jin. I’ll keep it in mind. I have to go.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, kid,” Jin jokes, but his voice falls flat, unconvincing. “Please don’t,” he adds weakly, the line going dead right after.

You straighten back up, shaking off the few pieces of glass that had landed on your back and in your hair, and take off your coat, hissing at the cold air as you lay it over the jagged edges of the smashed window.

Climbing in is easy enough, and you emerge in an unfamiliar room, one that, even just by the pale glow of the moon, is visibly lived in. Namjoon’s bedroom.

Giving an apologetic wince as you crunch over the broken glass littered all over his carpet, you quickly pick up the nearest thing you could possibly use as a weapon, which happens to be a massive hardback book on his nightstand, an intricate and heavy edition of The Odyssey. Even as your heart races enough to bang against your ribs, you spare a fond smile at the man’s reading choices, holding the hulking thing in front of you like a barricade.

It feels strange, slinking down the carpeted hallway towards the kitchen. Every second of silence you’re expecting to be filled by a guttural scream or a thud of impact or a gunshot. Every shadow seems to shift and move, more dark in the house than light to see by. It feels like wading through shark infested waters with nothing but a pair of floaties as protection.

You pause, just for a moment, when you enter the kitchen, squinting at the light pooling out of a crack in the door to the workshop. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, fireworks bursting behind your eyelids in vibrant yellows and neon pinks, split seconds of colour with every blink. Once you think you can see without wincing, you take a quiet breath, tiptoeing closer and closer, cringing at the barely audible tap-squeak of your boots on the linoleum floor.

When you gingerly peek around the corner, into the room, you have to clap a hand over your mouth to prevent your gasp from being heard.

The first thing you see is Namjoon.

Arms and torso bound to a chair with the thick industrial packing tape he used for his online orders, Namjoon has his eyes squeezed shut, not in pain but in fear, and his glasses are askew, one lens cracked. He’s rendered mute with more tape, but the edges are lifting from where his tears have slipped between.

That’s not what causes a dark bolt of fear to run through you, though.

Namjoon’s drenched. Absolutely soaked through his clothes, his dark blonde hair sopping. His nose flares at the stench, and you can smell it from here.

Lighter fluid.

For his final masterpiece, Cha had drawn inspiration not from the ingredients, but from the candle itself. You jerk as a wave of bile rises in your throat, managing to swallow it down.

You crane your head more, looking through the tiny gap to make sure Cha isn’t already lighting a match. You spy his silhouette browsing the shelves of ingredients, a few steps away from Namjoon. His hands are empty, and that’s enough for you.

You kick in the door, receiving a gratifying jump from Cha as he whirls around with widened eyes, before they lower again into a lazy grin. You glare at him, eyes darting over to Namjoon, calculating if you’d have enough time to run to him without Cha intercepting. With a tense jaw, you remain in the doorway.

The serial killer laughs, an off-kilter, grating noise. He’s quite handsome, dark hair and sculpted face, but there’s an unsettling gleam in his eyes that revolts you. “I’ve been expecting you,” he announces in a sing-song voice. “Though you took so long. Namjoon and I have been growing bored, quite frankly.”

You let your eyes return to Namjoon, who shakes like a leaf, chest rising and falling in little pants, unable to get enough air through his nose. Rage wells inside you at the sight, but deeper than that, true fear. You almost feel like falling to your knees in tears, begging to exchange your life for his. Anything to get him out of the hot seat, quite literally.

“It’s over, Cha,” you say instead, “the cops are on their way, it’s only a matter of time before they storm the place. Even if you somehow slip away, every police station in the country has a picture of your face on their Wanted board. Every airport, train station and bus terminal won’t let you through. And in the morning, the Wickerman’s true identity will be blasted all over the news. No matter what you do, it’s over. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

His face curls up angrily at this, marring his fine features. “Rash decisions? Tell me, Detective, has there been anything I’ve done so far that has struck you as a rash decision? You wound me.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, the irritation at his blase behavior welling inside you with no outlet. Keep him talking, you think to yourself. If he won’t give up, just distract him long enough for backup to arrive. “Well, I can only imagine this whole crackpot scheme of yours was borne from a rash decision. Scented candles? It’s a joke.”

He recoils visibly, eye twitching. “It’s inspired,” he spits back venomously, “something nobody appreciates these days. It’s not your average pointless slasher, it’s hard work and it’s art and it’s for the greater good. Those people I killed, all of them, were monsters.”

“They were only human,” you disagree firmly, “just like you.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes wavering. “I’m not human. I’m a god.”

“I thought Namjoon was the god,” you retort drily, forcing yourself to ignore Namjoon’s brows furrowing in confusion. “Or was that note of yours bullshit too?”

“You read it?” Cha blinks suddenly, nose flaring as he collects himself. “I was wrong. I thought I was acting on his behalf, fulfilling the prophecy of each candle. Carrying out justice. Killing bad people.” Cha turns to where Namjoon’s sitting with a glare. “He recommended every single one of those candles to me personally. They meant something.”

A strange, wounded gurgle sounds from behind the tape over Namjoon’s lips. It sounds like a denial. Or maybe an apology.

“He recommended them because they smelt good, Giho,” you explain through gritted teeth. “But those murders? The children without a father now? The zoo that has to close down because of its shot reputation? That is all on you.”

The skinny man buries his face in his hands for a moment, roughly rubbing at his eyes with a confused moan. “No, I- I was doing it for the betterment of society, these people were leeches, they were abusers, they were lazy, they were selfish.”

“And you’re a murderer,” you reply simply. “Who’s worse off?”

That seems to shut him up. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he takes a shuddering breath and turns to the shelf of ingredients, keeping you in his peripheral, but focusing on the rows and rows of jarred powders and liquids and other items.

You slowly edge closer to Namjoon, aware that Cha is much closer than you, and you can’t imagine you’d be able to get to him in time without Cha freaking out and pulling out a lighter or a match. There’s a bulge in his pants pocket that gives you pause.

“It’s over,” Cha mumbles slowly, picking up a half-empty jar of ground nutmeg, watching the layers shift as he turned it. “Only, it’s not. Not yet. Not quite over.”

He holds the jar in one large palm, but you spy his other hand sinking lower, slowly like he doesn’t want you to notice. With a rising heart rate, you turn your head to Namjoon, widening your eyes at him to catch his attention. Knee, you mouth, as widely as you dare. Cha doesn’t catch it, too busy trying to be subtle himself.

Namjoon’s eyes frown at you behind cracked glasses, before he straightens up slightly in realization. His eyes flick over to Cha’s legs, and back at you, raising his brows in question. Your head lifts in the tiniest nod. Then, you tap your right leg twice. Namjoon breathes in deeply through his nostrils, hands flexing on the arms of the chair.

Not wasting another moment, as Cha’s fingers begin to dip below the edge of his pocket, you rush forward, quickly enough to get his attention but slowly enough that he easily overtakes you, lifting out his hand again to hold them both up in front of you defensively.

Your eyes dart behind him, to Namjoon. He’s still too far away for Namjoon to be able to kick out and reach him, so you take a bold step forward, internally cheering when Cha frowns and reflexively backs up in response.

“There’s no need for this nonsense,” you declare, barely aware of what you’re saying, your mouth on autopilot as you take a step closer. “I don’t want to take you down with force, but I will if it comes to that. Resisting will get you nowhere.” You step forward again.

Cha keeps shuffling backwards, eyeing you with a warning in his eyes. “I’m going to prison anyway, then,” he reasons, “it’s only right that my work is completed before I do.” His hand lowers again, and your heart races, body bringing you two steps forward in quick succession without thought.

The man stumbles back in shock, recoiling like you had jumped him, but frowns when his clear footsteps change sound, a tiny wet slap echoing in the workshop instead. He looks down dumbly, to where the excessive puddle of lighter fluid has splashed up his pant legs and soaked his shoes.

His eyes widen, and he looks up again at you in something akin to betrayal.

You wish you could signal to Namjoon that now was the time, but for some reason Namjoon’s foot ekes forward gingerly, like he’s testing out if he could reach. Instead, you keep your focus on the murderer. “Now you see, Giho? If you set the fire, you burn too.”

A second after it comes out of your mouth, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

His face curls up in a snarl, and he shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out not a lighter or a box of matches, but a switchblade. You gasp and jump back reflexively at the glint of the blade, but he raises it with a growl, bringing it down faster than you can move out of his range for.

A line of fire runs across your forearm as you throw it up to defend you, and you let out a cry through gritted teeth at the deep cut. Cha lifts the dripping blade to charge at you again, but suddenly his hand goes lax and his mouth opens with a pained howl, sinking suddenly to the floor as his knee gives out from underneath him.

Once he hits the puddle of lighter fluid, sending drops all over your clothes, you look past his writhing body to Namjoon, whose leg is still held out in front of him, panting with worried eyes.

Frantically, you pick up the dropped knife, slippery in your grasp from your own blood, and you rush to Namjoon’s chair, slicing through the thick layers of tape, keeping one eye behind you at the man sobbing on the floor in agony, yelling intelligible insults and guttural curses.

The moment his hands are free, Namjoon rips away the tape over his mouth with a pained hiss, massaging the stinging skin. “Y/n, you-”

“Not now,” you interrupt brusquely, finally freeing him from the chair and grabbing his hand, tugging him away as fast as you can go.

Once the two of you leave into the kitchen, you shut the door to the workshop, dashing into the dining room to find a chair to slot under the doorknob, jamming it closed. In less than a minute, you’re out of the house and collapsing onto the frozen grass, cradling your injured arm and doing your best to maintain pressure on it, Namjoon ripping off his shirt and tearing it at the seams to form rough strips, which he binds and ties around the wound, apologising breathlessly when you scrunch up your face at the pain.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry, I have to, you’re bleeding so much, oh Jesus…”

Perhaps it’s the blood loss or the adrenaline that’s making you a little loopy, but you giggle hopelessly at the frightened look on his face.

Namjoon, with lips looking raw from the ripped tape, huffs down at you. “This is serious, Y/n, you could die, don’t laugh at me when I’m helping you!”

This strikes you as even funnier in your hazy mindset, and you keep giggling, hiccuping on dried tears, shivering violently under his gentle touch as the cold air wraps around you more tightly than the bandages on your arm.

“God, I… That was fucking wild in there, I can’t even...process it right now. But I- Are you with me? Y/n?”

You smile dopily at Namjoon, nodding. The rest of the scenery around him is swirling and your stomach lurches with a sickening voracity, but it’s okay when you look deep into his kind eyes and his open face. It’s okay when you have Namjoon beside you, because no matter how cold you are, your heart is burning like a furnace when you look at him and feel him.

He lets out a slow exhale, sitting down beside you with a strong palm on your back to stabilise your wobbling. “I’ve never been that scared in my life, I really thought I was going to die. And when I did, all I could think of was how much I hoped you’d still be okay. Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to have you stay safe, to keep you safe. That guy pulled a knife on you, Y/n, he stabbed you, and all I could think of was how I wished it was me instead who got hurt. I don’t ever want to see you get hurt, I don’t think my heart can take it again. I- When I was in there, and he was waiting for you, and all I could smell was gasoline… I thought I was going to die, and it gave me a certain type of clarity, I guess. I could think clearly for the first time in a long time. And all I could think about was you. I’m in love with you, Y/n, hopelessly in love with you, and I know I said I’d wait until the case was fully closed and done with, and I will, of course I will, but I just couldn’t wait that long to tell you how deep my feelings go, I- God, am I even making sense right now? It must be the adrenaline, I feel- Y/n?”

You lean forward unsteadily, balancing yourself with a hand on his knee. He stares at you with wide eyes, caught off-guard by your sudden movement. Your grin has disappeared, replaced by a look of wonder. “Case closed,” you announce warmly.

He cocks his head. “What?”

“Case closed,” you repeat insistently, “just for now, case closed. So quick; kiss me before I pass out again.”

A smile tugs at his lips, and with no further persuasion needed, he dips his head forward, joining your lips in a tender kiss, foul-tasting from the lighter fluid but still so sweet. You feel yourself melt into him, pressing your upper body against him, and your eyes slip closed so that all of your other senses come to life with Namjoon, only Namjoon, everything Namjoon.

His hand rises to cup your face softly, and you grip his forearm like it’s an anchor, his lips moving against yours like the tides; constant fluidity with a calm power just beneath the surface, and you’re lost to it, caught in his riptide with no hope or desire to ever get out.

Colours swim behind your eyes, and your arm begins to go numb, fingers falling slack and dropping off his forearm. As an enveloping nothingness creeps into the corners of your mind, slowly pulling you from Namjoon, the last thing you’re aware of is the worried call of your name, before you fall into that black ocean.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Jin glances up at you with a start as you drop the heavy manila folder on his desk. His widened eyes drop to it, the fresh red ink stamped across the top, a thick rubber band holding countless slips of paper, photographs, typewritten transcripts and photocopies, all the written evidence and reporting of the case.

Your boss straightens up, like in the presence of someone important. “This it?” he questions simply, though his tone belies the significance of the item on his desk. You give a short nod, tamping down the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “And the online report?”

“Submitted,” you answer, unable to control the smug warmth in your voice.

Jin pats the top of the thick file fondly, eyes darting back up to you. “The families?”

“Notified,” you respond dutifully, though something keeps you slightly fidgety, absentmindedly massaging your forearm, feeling the raised line of the scar you were left with.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by the man swaying side to side on his office chair. His face softens, a tender smile emerging. “And young Mister Kim?”

Your hand goes still as you break his knowing gaze. “I- Well, I figured it would be best if I did a courtesy visit, just to, you know, talk it through properl-”

“It’s okay,” Jin cuts in, “I’m not going to lecture you. I really appreciate that you put this case first and kept...that on standby, but your obligation is over. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s a good one.”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully. “Is that your way of giving me permission, Kim Seokjin?”

A light blush tints the tips of his ears red as he splutters defensively. “God, no,” he scoffs, “if it were up to me, you’d stay pure and innocent forever.”

He breaks off to send you a salacious wink to let you know he’s joking around, and you laugh, turning to leave. Your hand rests on the doorknob of his office door before he speaks up again. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you reply without looking, opening the door and letting yourself hover half-inside, half-out.

Jin’s voice is warm, full of tender fondness that could only be cultivated by years of working side by side. “You’re my best girl, you know that?”

You flick him one last grin. “Right back atcha.”

He beams happily, and you’re already out of the office before you hear the offended cry of him processing your words.

Namjoon’s front door is open when you pull up, gravel crunching below your feet. Your first instinct is alarm, especially considering what went down the last time you were here, but it doesn't seem like anything ominous.

In fact, as you approach, you realise it's quite the opposite. A rich smell wafts out the open door, somewhat familiar yet unique scent that you can't quite put your finger on. You take a step inside, calling out his name, but recoil when, instead of the glossy wood of the entryway, your shoe lands on something soft and springy. You look down, eyes widening in bewilderment at the sight that greets you.

Piled at the front door and winding down and around the hallway are countless fresh rose petals, the same dusky pink shade that you recognise from his flower garden outside. Did he have someone over?

You call his name out again, but instead of a response, you strain your ear to hear a faint melodic hum, a honeyed tune that invites you in.

Leaving your coat and shoes at the door, you follow the trail of petals, careful not to step on any more. You find yourself smiling as you notice some of them with rips and tears at the base, others squished or bent, like he was in a hurry when deflowering the rose bushes.

Both the enticing smell and the dreamy humming crescendo the further along you follow the path of rose petals. They're leading you towards the workshop, through the living room and kitchen, but part of you knew that the moment you walked in the door. It was the heart and soul of the house, and it didn't surprise you that he was in there.

In fact, as your socked feet slip slightly on the smooth tiles of the kitchen, you pinpoint one of the delicate fragrances that fill the air. It's the scent of roses.

"Namjoon?" This time, as you call his name a third time, you open the door to the workshop further, and step inside, eyes searching. Although it's a strange mirror of the last time you were here, your heart is beating out of your chest for a different reason.

When you see him, it's like you're falling in love for the first time, though you've long since accepted over that long two months apart that you had been totally head over heels with him for a lot longer. But still, your heart swells, and you can't help but beam warmly at the sight that greets you.

Namjoon's so entirely engrossed in what he's doing that you don't think he even heard you, still lost in his own melody, something you begin to recall is from a romance movie or a ballet, classical and moving.

His tall figure is bent over the central island bench, using a massive tub with a spout to pour a dusky pink wax into several glass jars, the long, uncut wicks held upright with little metal rods that lie across the top of the jar. His biceps strain under his messy green t-shirt, and the hulking tub is almost the size of his torso, yet his hands don't shake the slightest, and he manages to fill each jar to the same height, about a couple centimetres below the rim, without pouring any over those metal rods. He works quickly, but even if it took him an hour you're convinced you would've happily stood there in awed silence the whole time, unwilling to disturb him.

His hummed tune stops, and he pours a single sample candle in focussed silence, before picking up a new train of notes, a composition you recognise as a Chopin tune, Nocturne-something, but a much lower version, coming from the resonance of his throat. As you watch him closely, his eyebrows move with the music, knitting together and lifting on the higher notes, a subconscious smile tugging at his closed mouth.

As he reaches the end of the rows of empty glasses, the molten wax in the tub running low, he loses track of the rhythm, diverting into his own stream of haphazard runs and melodies, something that's even more endearing to you. Fuck, you're smitten.

Finally, as he puts down the heavy tub on the concrete floor with a sigh, rolling his shoulders back and wiggling his fingers to relax the muscles, you clear your throat loudly, making him jump in his spot and whirl around, eyes widening at your presence.

"Y/n? You got here fast!"

Your smile falters, replaced by a look of confusion. "I... what?"

Namjoon seems to realise belatedly what he said, wincing at himself with a sheepish laugh. "Uh, maybe I got a call from a certain someone...saying to expect you..."

Jin. You nod. "Figures." But then, a thought strikes you, and you glance back the way you came, at the path of rose petals that leads away behind you like the tail of a comet. "So this is all for me?"

Namjoon's eyes are bright, no glasses to obstruct them. You tamp down a grin at the fond memory of his theory about not wearing his glasses while in the workshop, that his sense of smell was better with poor vision. It is so clear to you that every atom in him, every moment and every thought, was filled with nothing but love for his craft.

You want that love yourself, even just a fraction of it. To see if his hands would take as much care with you as with the production of those candles. To know if the sounds that left his throat then would be as melodic as his absent-minded humming.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to return your mind to the present moment, where Namjoon's tender gaze is on you, eyes searching your face with an open vulnerability.

"Of course it's all for you," he says simply, and the casual intimacy of his comment runs shivers down your spine. "It's done, isn't it?" he questions. "It's over."

Your eyes crinkle with the warmth of your smile. You nod, not trusting your voice.

"Come here," he instructs gently, tilting his head down at the slowly cooling candles. As you approach the bench, he darts away, returning with a paper sticker stuck to his pointer finger. Picking a candle at random, he holds it level so as not to disrupt the wax, and wraps the sticker around the side of the glass, ensuring the corners are flat and snug against the curve. "Here, smell this. It's what I've been working on while the store was closed for the trial."

You're sure to handle the glass jar with as much care as he does when he gives it to you. You couldn't deny the hours you had spent at your desk, or in court, wondering what Namjoon was doing. Your higher-ups, the men Jin reported to, had deemed it necessary to temporarily shut down Moni's Candle Shop over the period of the trial, knowing the unsavoury publicity it might receive, and while increased footfall and news coverage proved them right, you knew it must have bothered Namjoon immensely to be separated from it for so long. It seemed at least he had been productive.

Without reading the label, you lift the opening to your nose, recoiling slightly when the overpowering scent hits your nostrils.

Namjoon laughs, placing a warm hand over your much smaller one, pressing down so that your face was at a safe enough distance from the candle. "Wax smells a lot stronger when heated," he explains with a laugh in his tone, "so maybe don't dip your nose in it."

You flick him a dry look, though you can't keep serious for longer than a moment, too focussed on the heavy weight in your hands. Sniffing, more delicately this time, your eyes slip shut in bliss as you breathe in the enveloping scent. Just one inhale eases your muscles, relaxes your brow, and brings a soft smile to your face.

The first thing you recognise is that perfumed sweetness of the rose, but it's deepened with hints of something incredibly familiar, something you just can't put your finger on, even as it makes your heart swell in your chest.

"What is that?" you question with a confused lilt to your voice, tentatively raising it higher inch by inch in the hopes that you'll finally get it.

Namjoon's eyes glitter; like he's forgotten until now, his hand suddenly shifts from resting on top of yours to cupped below, as he pulls your hand further away from your face, stretching your arm out and up. "Read the label," he replies instead, turning the glass jar around within your grasp, until the paper faces you. You feel his eyes on you as your expression changes with the carefully handwritten words.

"Namjoon..." you breathe, feeling yourself tear up a little, overwhelmed with the emotions that flooded your senses.

His fingers cover the corners, but you can still easily make out what it says.

He’s pulling the candle out of your hand gently, placing it back on the counter top, but you don’t look away from his face for a second. He’s avoiding your gaze like he’s shy, fiddling with a patch of dried wax on the hem of his shirt, but he looks up in surprise when you take a large step forward, enough for his hands to be trapped between you. He wiggles them out, where they awkwardly hover at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He looks so unsure of himself, yet his eyes are so earnest, that it melts you.

“Namjoon,” you repeat softly, “can I ask you a question too?”

He blinks once, taken off-guard. He nods silently, a tense, jerky movement.

A warm smile breaks across your face as you look up at him, at the man you’ve irrevocably fallen in love with. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, but it doesn’t matter when you stand so close. “Will you kiss me?”

There’s a single moment that separates the two of you. A single moment where all the tension floods from his body. Where his mouth drops slightly open and his eyebrows lift in surprise. Where an involuntary sigh of relief leaves his parted lips.

And then those lips are on yours, and you’re apart no longer.

Namjoon kisses you like you’re more delicate than the glass of those jars, like you’re more precious than all the ingredients that line his shelves, like you mean the world to him, and it takes your breath away.

He kisses slow, every sliver of contact cherished and savoured, your face cupped between his palms, thumbs rubbing soothingly at your cheekbones as he tips your face up higher towards him, so he can breathe you in. With languid yet fevered movements, Namjoon deepens the kiss until your nerves are on fire, his body heat against you only adding to the blaze, the occasional slip of tongue sending jolts of electricity down your spine. You feel alive, more now than you have for years, and his scent and his taste and the murmur in his throat are the anchors that tie you to him, to this feeling.

Desperate to be closer, you reach up and fist handfuls of his shirt in your hands, the fabric warmed by his body, and tug him more securely against you. He reflexively drops a hand from your face to wrap his arm around your back, and tilts his head to the side slightly to intensify the kiss even further, raw need quickening the pace even as his lips stay soft and sensual against yours.

When he eventually pulls away to take a breath, the two of you are panting, and you can see his eyes are blown wide with desire, nothing but a narrow ring of rich brown around his dilated pupils.

You heart leaps at the way he keeps you pressed to him, cupping your face with a tender smile playing at his lips. “Yes,” you announce warmly.

His head tilts to the side. “Yes…? Yes what?”

Your grin stretches. “It’s the answer to your question.” You gesture with a tip of your chin to the slowly-solidifying candles. “Yes, I’ll be yours. So; will you be mine too?”

You think you could stay in this moment forever; snug in his warm embrace, lips still tingling from where he’s kissed you, cheek hot where his large palm rests. From the way he looks down at you, you imagine he feels quite the same.

“Oh, my love,” he assures softly, “I’ve been yours all along.”

[cinnonym]

christmas magic's brought this tale (to a very happy ending)

Written for Day 10 - Game Night / Movie Night of 12 Days of Christmas @supercorpbb

Read on AO3

***

r/relationship_advice – posted by u/anonymous1000 – 13 hours ago

My (25f) crush and best friend (27f) chose a lesbian classic for movie night, how do I react?

Disclaimer ahead: I haven’t used reddit before and am thus not very fluent in etiquette and formatting, but please bear with me because I am seriously overwhelmed by the current situation and would appreciate all forms of help. I’m also typing this in a hurry, because I’m supposed to be in the bathroom, so please excuse typos or inaccuracies. I’ll try my best. But now, without further ado, here goes:

I (25f) have been crushing on my best friend (27f) pretty much since the day we met. For context, that was two years ago, and while we started out on a business relationship, it evolved into a close friendship almost right away. This is mostly due to her, I must admit. She’s the most open-minded person I know and simply couldn’t be “scared away” by my bad reputation (which I inherited). Needless to say, I’m very grateful for her. She’s not only my best, but has also been my only friend for quite a while, before she introduced me to her inner circle. I unironically owe her my happiness (and my life, several times over, but that’s unrelated to this story).

I’d fallen in love before I realised what was happening. Usually, trust and affection come slowly to me, but her I loved almost right away. That’s simply who she is, a person one cannot help loving. Also, she’s very attractive, side note. I used to flirt with her sometimes, in the beginning, before I became aware of the depth of my feelings (this is awkward to talk about, btw, thank goodness for anonymity online), and back then, it seemed like she wasn’t all unresponsive to my advances. Then again, she isn’t very good at saying no to anyone, because of who she is as a person, so maybe she was only being polite? I’m not sure.

Anyway, she had a boyfriend then, and I had to come to terms with my feelings, so I sort of drew back a little. I’d been with women before, so that was never an issue, but I’m uncertain whether she has ever considered women. Her sister is gay, and she is very supportive of her, but we’ve never talked about how she feels. As far as I know, she’s only ever been with men though. Either way, I’m not in the business of making moves on taken people, so I mostly focused on fostering our friendship.

The thing is, as long as I can be close with her, I am sort of okay with being “just friends”. I mean, isn’t close friendship like a romantic relationship, just minus the romance? And minus the physical advantages (although she is a very cuddly person, so that’s nice). And, like, of course, I’d like to mean more to her. Of course I’d like to take care of her every day when she comes home, cook her dinner, listen to her worries, massage her neck, kiss her goodnight. Of course I’d like to be The One to her, just like she is The One to me. But considering that she’s probably straight and not interested in me in that way, I’m mostly okay with just being her best friend.

Or, I was mostly okay with it. But recently she’s… been acting differently towards me. She’s giving me these long glances when she thinks I don’t notice (I do). She’s going out of her way to make sure I’m fine and don’t work too much (it’s a tendency I have, especially pre-Christmas). She’s told me she’s been working on my Christmas gift almost all month (and I can’t for the hell of it guess what it could be). She’s even invited me for Christmas with her family (since I don’t celebrate with mine).

And now today, she chose the film Carol for movie night (movie night is a weekly thing we do, I should have mentioned that earlier, maybe), which is, as you might know, about a lesbian relationship. And I don’t know what to do.

She claims to have chosen the film because it was on a list of Christmas films (and I suppose it does have christmassy vibes), and because it “sounded fitting”. Sounded fitting?? What is that even supposed to mean? She doesn’t know I’m gay, so it can’t be that, unless she somehow figured out. Is she gay and this is her way of telling me? And if so, how do I react? Is this her letting me know she’s interested in me, or am I reading too much into this? Did she even realise this was a lesbian film??

Anyway, she’s calling from the living room, so I need to go. I’ll try to take another bathroom break halfway into the movie, and I’d appreciate it A Lot if I had some reactions in by then, because I’m panicking a little here. Thank you all!

Tl;dr: my supposedly straight friend chose a lesbian film for movie night, and I don’t understand her intentions behind that.

(P.S. She and her boyfriend have broken up months ago. She’s currently single.)

***

r/relationship_advice – posted by u/anonymous1000 – 11 hours ago

UPDATE to this post

First of all, thank you all so much for your quick replies, they’re really helpful. As you might have guessed, I managed to negotiate another bathroom break mid-film (though my friend is currently sulking on the couch, she didn’t want to let me go? :) ?) and am, once again, typing as fast as my fingers will allow. Much has happened.

I’ve mentioned that my friend is a very cuddly person. Today was no difference – as soon as she’d pressed play on the film, she’d already enveloped me in one of her bone-crushing hugs (she’s very strong). Normally, I let myself sink into these embraces, because she really is a phenomenal hugger, but today my speculations were so prevalent in my mind that I could hardly breathe when our bodies touched.

(She noticed my reaction right away, and immediately asked if I’d rather not hug (to which I replied a vehement no), and this really isn’t very important to the story, but I wanted to let you know.)

As the film progressed (largely unregarded by me, I must admit), I noticed several things about her behaviour that seemed odd, though:

One, her heartbeat became considerably faster as soon as Carol and Therese had met on-screen and it became clear that their relationship would be the focus of the film.

Two, she’s been side-eyeing me a lot more frequently than usual (she tends to watch me watch films if she knows the plot already, but considering she probably hasn’t seen Carol before, this seems out of character for her).

Three, and this is… I don’t even know how to feel about this, but… how do I formulate this best…  When the sex scene was playing, I swear she looked at my cleavage and blushed.

I’m sort of ecstatic (because those are hints, right? I can’t be the only one to think that those are hints?) but also very very VERY worried that I’ve totally misinterpreted the entire situation. Then again, all of your comments sound incredibly hopeful and affirming, so I guess I’m not entirely wrong in my assumptions?

I need to go back now (I’ve been here way too long already), but I will definitely keep you updated. It’s so heart-warming to see how invested all of you are!

@everyone who told me to kiss her already: if she keeps this up, I just might :)

***

r/relationship_advice – posted by u/anonymous1000 – 1 hour ago

UPDATE! All’s well that ends well!

Hey everyone, I am so sorry for the late update. I ended up being… somewhat busy last night.

:) :) :)

So, long story short, we’re dating now. And yes, I did kiss her (or she kissed me, I can’t remember exactly. We somehow kissed each other simultaneously).

Long story slightly less short, because I see you hungering for details in the comments (and my now-girlfriend said you deserved to know), here is how it went down:

We didn’t even finish the film. We didn’t even resume the film, after I returned from the bathroom. Because when I did, giddy and ready to Do This, she wasn’t even looking at me. No, she was looking at her phone.

Now, I’ve never seen a person look at their phone with an expression quite as shocked as hers. She was, I’m not kidding, completely frozen (and if you knew her, you’d know that doesn’t happen often).

So naturally I rush over to her, worried as can be, thinking something bad happened, a catastrophe or maybe an accident in her family. And as I kneel by her side, and she still hasn’t moved, I happen to see what she’s been reading on her phone screen.

And it’s reddit.

I’m not gonna lie, for a second I thought it was all over. I mean, she’d obviously recognised us in my post (so much for anonymity everyone, the internet is treacherous), and judging by her expression, well… I assumed the worst.

But then she turns around and she fixes me with this incredibly cute stern stare she has, and she goes: “[My full name]. Have you browsed the relationship tag even once?”

And I shake my head, completely dumbfounded of course, because what does that have to do with anything. But apparently it plays a crucial role, because apparently you all know my girlfriend.

Her username is @supergirlssupercurls and she’s been posting the entire journey of our friendship/romance on this platform. Turns out she loves me too.

:)

She’s also told me to end this with: and they lived happily ever after.

(Let’s hope we do).