#i realised why i have two hardcovers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes.

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

--->--->--->--->--->

“Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->--->

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->--->

An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing

411 notes · View notes

artaefact · 4 years ago

Text

grinchly, yours.

—wordcount: 15k+

—genre: angst, fluff, bookshop owner!reader, florist!hoseok, bookshop au, christmas au, flower shop au, s2l au

—pairing: jung hoseok x f reader

—rating: pg-15

—warnings: awkward moments, a cemetery scene, mention loss of loved ones, a soft!hobi

—summary: Christmas time is around the corner, everyone is celebrating to their heart’s content, but not you. No, you despise Christmas and the joy it brings. That is, until a friendly florist decides to pay your bookstore a visit.

author’s note: i’ve been meaning to write a character with the grinch’s personality and this story has been revolving around my head for some time !! happy reading everyone 💖

prompt: “carolling” for @btsholidaybingo event & “winter market date” for @kdiarynet winter hearts event !!

You nearly lose it when a snowflake lands on your face — specifically, your eye — for the third time now as you pad along the asphalt road. Releasing a breath, you calm yourself. This should be a regular occurrence for you. Still, you can’t help but scowl at the sight of fake candy canes and decorated fir trees near the streets and shops, and well, basically everywhere.

Once you near your bookshop, another annoyed sigh escapes your lips when you find a group of people singing right in front of the door again. Honestly, your patience is running thin as you have once told them to not sing in front of your bookstore.

Cursing under your breath, you try not to meet anyone’s eye and opt to quickly enter your shop. However, one of the members notices you and waves at you. You recognise him as Jimin — a local baker who likes to stop by your bookstore to look for recipe books.

After responding with a brief nod at him, you unlock your door and rush inside.

It’s not even Christmas yet, so why are these people singing Christmas carols early in the morning already? The sun has barely even risen up!

A relieved sigh escapes your lips when you can’t hear the choir anymore, at least muffled by the door of your bookstore. Moving towards the cashier table, you place your messenger bag underneath it before getting to work.

Carrying boxes of books back and forth from the supply room is the daily norm for you. You find comfort hidden between the shelves while you stack the newly-delivered books neatly into their allocated place. Many would say that it’s a lonely job, especially since you refuse to hire anyone to work in your store. But you don’t. You seldom feel that way.

The soft music from the jukebox is the only thing that keeps the bookshop from falling into complete silence as you work on reshelving and rearranging the books. That is until the bell on top of the front door rings.

“Welcome!” You place the books on the wooden floor, standing up only to see Jimin peering on the aisle you’re in, smiling ear-to-ear.

Sighing internally, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to pop in and say hi.”

You sit back down on the wooden floor and continue to shelf the books. “Didn’t you do that before?”

“You didn’t say a word.” He moves closer and plops down beside you.

You merely shake your head, still focusing on your task. “How many times do I have to tell you not to let those choir people sing in front of my store?”

“Right,” Jimin answers sheepishly. “You see, we are still scouting for another area and—”

“Well then, find it quicker. Why don’t they just sing in front of your bakery?”

“It’s not exactly an ideal spot for singing…”

“And the front of my store is?”

“There’s not much public transport station here—”

You huff in annoyance. “If you don’t have anything else to do besides making excuses, I would appreciate it if you leave. As you can see—” Lifting one of the books in emphasis, “—my hands are full.”

Despite your cold words, Jimin dismisses it quickly. “Well, I’m looking for a book about plants.”

“Botany?” Your brows furrow. “Did baking go wrong?”

He snorts. “As if, but my friend is looking for one. He asked me if I could get one for him.”

“Is there a particular book he’s searching for?”

Jimin hands you a piece of paper.

“Oh, I have to place an order for this one,” you utter. “I’ll send you a text when it has arrived.”

Nodding, Jimin finally stands up and is ready to leave when you call him.

“Oh, and Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“For the last time, take your fellow choir crew somewhere else to sing.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

The box lands on the cashier desk with a thump before you send a message to Jimin, a week later.

[ 2:05 PM ] You: your friend’s book is here

Placing your phone on the table, you peel off the wrapping tape and open the box. The printed white letters of Guide to Gardening contrast against the pine green background of the hardcover as tiny drawn flowers scatter across the edge of the cover.

You read the synopsis curiously, wondering how someone can find garden-work interesting when your phone dings — a text notification from Jimin lights up your phone screen.

[ 2:09 PM ] Jimin: Oh! I’ll tell my friend to pick up the book himself. He should be able to swing by today.

Not bothering to reply to him, you put away the book for safekeeping — leaving Jimin on read, as usual, and get back to check your supplies, making sure everything’s in stock.

An hour or two have passed until someone enters your bookstore. “Excuse me?”

Looking up from the papers, a new customer staring at you. “May I help you?” You ask, standing up from your seat.

“I ordered a book. And my friend, Jimin, told me it has arrived.”

“Oh!” You scramble through your paper-covered desk, reaching for the book. “Are you—” You check the name it was ordered under. “—Hoseok?”

He nods, dimples appearing on his cheeks.

“Here you go.” Handing the book to him. “Is this what you were looking for?”

The subtle smile on his face turns into a bright grin as soon as he reads the title. “It is.”

“Great,” you nod. “Do you still want to take a look around, or would that be all?”

Hoseok’s gaze lingers on you, a bit too long for your liking, but he shakes his head regardless. “This would be all for now.”

“That’ll be twenty-five dollars.”

While you print the receipt, he asks, “Are you a friend of Jimin’s?”

“Acquaintance,” you correct him, handing his receipt.

“I see. May I know your name at least?” He extends his hand.

Blinking at his question, your hand moves before you can think twice about taking his hand in yours. Ignoring the way your hand fits so well in his, you introduce yourself, “Y/N.”

And a bright, bright grin appears on his face, one that you swear can light up the whole bookshop. “Hope we’ll see each other again soon, Y/N. Just recently opened up my shop near the corner of the street.” Then he makes his way out of the store, steps faltering slightly before the entrance, giving the bookstore a once-over and walks out.

The next time you meet Hoseok is when he visits your store in passing. “Hey, Y/N!” He greets you as you place a stack of books on the cashier table from the delivery box earlier.

“Hi, Hoseok...” You do not know what to make of his cheerful demeanour.

“How’s your day?”

You furrow your brows in confusion. Is he seriously asking that for no apparent reason?

“Fine, I guess,” you answer nonetheless as you rub your palms against your jeans. “Just had to clear out the storage and rearrange some shelves.”

“Do you need any help?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Oh! I’m looking for a book about orchids,” Hoseok explains. “It’s so hard to grow them.”

“Give me a moment, I’ll check the supplies,” you mumble, moving and clicking your mouse to find what he is searching for. Hoseok moves to a nearby aisle, looking through random books while you move to the allocated aisle of the book he wants.

Hoseok is confused for a moment as his attention is set on the little post-its on the shelf. As he takes a closer look, he realises that these are your reviews of the books. He can’t help but chuckle at how enthusiastic your reviews sound.

It’s amusing how you are interested in The Grinch.

Plucking one of the books, he makes his way to you. You are so focused on the books as he stands beside you, then he pokes your shoulder and you jolt. “Oh my—”

Hoseok apologises sheepishly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

You clear your throat. “It’s fine. I tend to tune out my surroundings when I’m focused. And, uh, here—” You hold out the book to him. “—is this it?”

Hoseok nods, smiling as he takes the book and follows behind you to the cashier. As you type in the order, he asks, “Do you like this book?” Your movements falter at his sudden question, which he notices. “I saw some stickers you posted beneath the books that seem to be your favourites.”

Cheeks growing warm at his words, you stammer, “Well, I thought it would encourage people to buy and—”

He places one of the books that you recommended on top of the book he was looking for. “I’ll get this one too.”

“But… It’s a children’s book.” You gape.

“I’m not big on reading heavy novels, Y/N. So, I think this is a good start,” he shrugs. “Plus, you recommended five stars for this and your review—”

“Okay!” You cut him off, grasping the book. “I-I get what you mean, but are you sure? You don’t have to—”

“Am I not here as your customer?”

Sighing mentally, you proceed to scan the barcode. “That will be forty-seven dollars.”

Meetings with him are refreshing, as it is odd. Hoseok would come by your bookstore once in a while — once a week or even twice. At first, you thought something was up. Definitely, since he didn’t purchase books on every visit. But what throws you off is that he would come by to drop desserts or even just a quick ‘hi’ when he is busy that day.

You’re sceptical indeed. Was there a bet being made to befriend you? But he wouldn’t have treated you to those sugar-coated doughnuts or hot chocolate if he wants money.

Deep in your own thoughts, you walk along the usual route to your store; hands tucked inside your thick coat, even ignoring the snow that’s covered your beanie.

You’re not used to this; someone just straight-up approaching you, or just enjoying being in your presence with no obligation to do so. Haven’t he heard of the rumours that surround you? In a small town where you live, he must have heard something.

Thoughts drifting back to reality, your eyes twitch as you find those carolling people in front of your store again. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out an annoyed sigh.

How many times should you tell them to scram? And where is Park Jimin?

You scan through the faces of the group, and he was nowhere to be found. Muttering a curse under your breath while ignoring the slight aching in your chest, you stomp towards them.

“Hello,” You plaster on a big fake smile, ceasing their singing at once. “I thought I had told one of your crew — Jimin — that you can’t sing in front of my store. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s not joining us today,” one of the choir members answers, nonchalantly. “We didn’t know that this is a private area. I thought you only own your part of the store.”

The other choir members glance nervously at each other; their reaction an obvious contrast with this chipper, unheeding chatterbox in front of you. Gritting your teeth, you force down the curse words that are on the tip of your tongue back before clearing your throat. “Well, now, you know.” You pin down that girl who opens her loose mouth with your sharp stare. “So, I would appreciate it if you’d leave and never sing in front of my store again.”

She is about to respond when her crewmembers stop her from saying anything further, which is fortunate for her. In minutes, they pack up and finally leave.

Rubbing your temples, you make a mental note to put a sign in front of your store that says no choirs allowed, or any Christmas activities at all. After changing the ‘close’ sign to ‘open’, you place your things on the cashier table. Looking at the old jukebox fondly, you trace the intricate, beautiful designs for a little while before you turn it on. Soft jazz music fills the air instantly, and your heart warms up at that.

Deciding to have a little reading time, you pick a book from your favourite section. However, you falter momentarily when you realise it’s the same book Hoseok bought last week from your post-it recommendation. Sighing, you place the book back and pick another.

Time flies so quickly when you immerse yourself in books. By the time you check your phone, it’s afternoon already. And then the quiet atmosphere shatters when the bell of your bookstore rings.

“Y/N!” His familiar cheerful voice startles you.

“Hoseok…” You’re back again.

“I’m grabbing a bite in Jimin’s bakery, would you like to join?”

“No, I’m—” Your stomach growls loudly as if on cue.

Hoseok laughs at that, “Your stomach says otherwise. C’mon! You shouldn’t stay cooped up in your shop the whole day.”

And you can’t bring yourself to reject his offer again.

“How long have you been running your bookstore?” Hoseok asks as you both make your way towards Jimin’s bakery.

“It’s been... Five years,” you answer hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s quite long! Have you always been interested in books?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ve loved reading since I was a child.”

You didn’t realise how much you had enjoyed conversing with Hoseok until you reached Jimin’s bakery.

That was quick, you thought, at the sight of the pastel pink store.

Stepping into the bakery, Hoseok calls out, “Kookie!”

“Hyung?” The familiar man called ‘Kookie’ greets him after serving a customer with their order.

You wreck your head for his name — you know this guy. Well, have seen him with Jimin most of the time but you didn’t bother to know his name. Or actually, you did, but you forgot.

The only ones you can come up with are “John Cook’ or ‘Jungkook’. It has to be either one of those or else you’d embarrass yourself further.

“Oh, Y/N, it’s nice for you to come by!”

Screw it.

“Nice to see you too, John.”

Kookie lets out a giggle. “You can call me ‘Jungkook’ instead of my last name.”

Then it clicks. Right— it’s Jeon Jungkook. Thank the heavens ‘John’, and ‘Jeon’ sounds similar.

You feign indifference. “Alright, Jungkook.”

“Jimin is out with his girlfriend for hot chocolate, he’ll be back soon.”

As soon as you and Hoseok take a seat, Jungkook hands you both the menu before dealing with other customers.

“So... Are you sure you’re new here?” You break the silence. “Looks to me that you seem to know everyone here already.”

Hoseok chuckles at that. “Not everyone. But Jimin, Jungkook, and I go way back.”

“Ah, I see...” Then you cast your stare to the menu once more. But your attention shifts to the glass door to see Jimin and his girlfriend laughing. Not long after you catch his gaze, however, the warmth dissipates almost instantly. He stalks towards your table at once.

“What are you doing here?” Jimin seethes, eyes boring into yours as you match them equally with your icy ones.

“Ah, Jimin,” Hoseok turns to look at him. “I was grabbing something to eat, and I invited Y/N along and—”

“Y/N is not welcome here,” Jimin seethes.

Hoseok’s eyes widen before it gradually hardens at your defence. “Since when?”

But Jimin’s eyes are on you once more. “Why did you drive the choir crew away again? What did they do to you? They managed to sing a few blocks away from your store!”

“That is bullshit.” You stand up and level his gaze. “They sang in front of my store again, still disturbing the peace in my shop. And I told you to take your choir crew somewhere far to sing.”

Jimin lets out a frustrated sigh. “That’s not what they—”

“Believe whoever you want,” you cut him off, mood darkening. “And since I am not welcome here, I’ll see myself out.” Without another word, you head out of the bakery. Clutching your coat tighter to your frame, the sound of your boots thumps along the cobblestone until another pair of rapid footsteps follow behind you.

“Y/N!” Hoseok calls out, grabbing your arm. “Hey… I—” He catches his breath. “I’m sorry, Jimin is an asshole to you—”

You shake your head. “No, that’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I—”

“Hoseok.” You turn to him. “Why do you even bother to befriend me?”

His eyes widened at that before he splutters, “B-Because, why not?”

Taking a step closer to him, you consider asking him if there is a bet going on, but decide against it. “I’ll be fine. You go back to Jimin.”

Without another glance, you turn away once more, leaving him in the midst of the cold weather.

Autumn flies away too quickly, you bitterly thought. You find yourself missing the warm colours of the town, where the crunching sound of fallen leaves will always fill the silence when you go to work or go back home. Or, spring sounds good to you too — bright, vivid flowers loitering around as the warm sun kisses your skin.

Not this whole white fiasco. Your mood always dampens when you walk out of the house, only to find the usual bright morning still dark as it takes later for the sun to rise up.

‘Achoo—!’ You let out a sneeze, wrapping the thick blanket around your form tighter. The heater of the store is cranked up to the fullest, yet the winter cold still manages to get you.

Letting out an annoyed ‘tsk’, you continuously flip through the accounting records of your store, eyes scanning the numbers to make sure no mistakes are made. Unable to focus further, you sigh.

Maybe you should do other things before getting back to these numbers.

You let out another sneeze as you trudge to the storage room, huffing in annoyance while you sniffle. Taking out an opened empty box from the shelves, you pack children books into it when your doorbell rings.

“Please wait a moment!” You quickly shove the box to an empty corner before rushing out.

“Umm,” Hoseok stands awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. “Hi…” He takes a few steps closer. “I’m sorry about yesterday—”

Posture stiffening, you cut him off, “It’s not your fault, nor it was Jimin’s fault. It was my own mistake.”

He tries to argue. “No, it’s—”

“Hoseok, it’s alright.” You reassure him, plastering on a tight smile. “Really.”

“Ah, that’s… Well, these are for you.” He extends a bouquet of orchids.

You stare at him. “W-Why…?”

“I thought it would brighten up your bookstore,” he rambles. “Uh, unless you don’t want it? It’s really fine—”

You take the bouquet from his hold, your smile turning genuine on your lips. “Thank you.”

He grins at that. “Well, I’ve got to go back to the shop. Maybe we can go out for coffee or even lunch whenever you’re free?”

When you nod in response, Hoseok’s expression lights up further. With your numbers exchanged, he waves you goodbye and exits your store. It’s quiet once again, and you merely stand there, still staring at the bright purple hues of the orchids.

Perhaps, it’s still ol’ winter outside, but it feels as though spring blooms within the walls of your bookshop now.

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

Hoseok is in a good mood; he whistles some random pop songs as he makes his way back to his shop. “I’m back!” he chirps, scrubbing his snow-covered boots against the ‘welcome’ rug.

“I was beginning to think you have lost your way,” Jungkook comments, eyes focusing at the bouquet in front of him, wrapping it up. “The next customer won’t be here until three and, wait—” He looks around frantically at the scattered flowers on the counter. “Hyung! Where are the orchids?!”

“Huh?” Hoseok feigns innocence. “I thought we had them. You’ve cut their stems right?”

“Yes, but—”

It’s kinda funny to see the usual composed Jungkook, now, panicking. Little did he know, Hoseok had taken the last of the orchids to make a bouquet for you.

“Hyung! We need orchids! The colours don’t match! And—”

Hoseok snorts. “Use the hydrangeas. They fit with whatever bouquet you’re wrapping.”

Jungkook makes a face. “It’s not going to be the same as how I pictured it, Hyung. It has a different meaning too!” However, Hoseok has gone into the changing room to change into his usual working attire. From outside, Jungkook grumbles to himself, “I don’t deserve this treatment. I helped Jimin, and now Hobi hyung too. And for what exactly?”

“So, you won’t stay cooped up in your room until New Years.” Hoseok comments, tying his apron then rolling the sleeve of his shirt till it reaches just before his elbows.

“Okay, but ‘fess up, Hyung—” Jungkook still looks unamused. “What did you do to the orchids? I know you’ve worked hard growing them so you won’t give away those flowers easily.”

“Huh,” Hoseok feigns innocence, grabbing a set of flowers to wrap. “Really? Maybe I did give it away to someone pretty, who knows.” Beautiful, in fact.

“Who?” Then Jungkook’s face turns dumbfounded as he seems to realise something. “Wait, don’t tell me it’s Y/N.”

“Why not Y/N?” Hoseok raises a brow, sparing the younger one a questioning glance.

Jungkook groans. “No, hyung, don’t you know she’s like… Unapproachable? Like even Jimin’s charm does not affect her at all. In fact, she made him angry the other day!

Hoseok mindlessly nods at Jungkook’s rambles. “Yeah, yeah…”

It goes quiet for a moment before Jungkook asks, “So… Did she throw away the flowers at once and kick you out of—”

The image of your bright eyes and soft smile engraves itself into his mind as he works on the bouquet at hand.

“No.” A smile appears on Hoseok’s face. “She loves it actually.” All that time he spent and the hard work of growing those orchids really does pay off.

“What did you say to her? I don’t think she’s the type to accept an apology gift that easily.” Jungkook tilts his head slightly, still questioning.

True. At first, he wanted to give it as an apology gift. However, at your insistence that it wasn’t anyone’s fault but your own, he thought of another reason — to brighten up your cozy bookshop with the vibrant colours of the orchids.

“Well, I thought of other reasons,” Hoseok answers vaguely, finishing the arrangement. And boy, did his heart soar when you accepted his gift afterwards.

“It’s so hard to believe…” Jungkook mumbles, focusing on his own task at hand.

Hoseok sighs. “She’s not what you guys seem to paint her to be. At least, not with me. Does anyone even try to approach her in the first place?”

Jungkook nods. “Jimin hyung did. You know how he is.” Silence falls for a few moments until Jungkook mutters, “I think she’s always grumpy when it’s Christmas season.”

“Why?”

Jungkook answers with a mere shrug. “No one knows. We just avoid her during Christmas.”

With furrowed brows, Hoseok clicks his tongue in disapproval of how people treated you. There must be a reason why you are acting this way. You weren’t a complete grouch with him, and your smile earlier proves that. If it takes hundreds of orchids to make you smile like that again — even when others say you are a grouch and your presence is unpleasant — he would gladly grow them all over again.

Sipping the gingerbread latte, you let out a satisfied hum at the burst of sweet taste on your tongue from the warm beverage. Definitely perfect for cold weather as you sit near the window, mindlessly staring out at the falling snow and the buzzing people beneath.

Hoseok has agreed to meet in the cafe. You are too stubborn to admit that you actually enjoyed his company these past few weeks. But, as soon as he texted you to meet in this cafe, you barely thought twice before agreeing.

Speaking of the devil, he sits across from you with a grin on his face. You snap out of your thoughts when your gaze zeroes in on the bouquet in front of you.

Irises.

“It’s for you.”

Blinking with furrowed brows, your voice comes out unsure. “For me…? But why?”

He lets out a sheepish chuckle, “I just think it suits you. Like those orchids.”

At his words, your heart beats faster. “I… I don’t know what to say,” you admit, gaze dropping to the bright yellow flowers, arranged prettily and pleasing to the eye. “But… Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Do you know what irises mean?”

You shake your head, taking the bouquet reluctantly.

“Hope and friendship,” Hoseok beams then raises his own steaming cup of coffee to you. “So, here’s to our friendship!”

Chuckling lightly, you lift your own cup.

“Right, I read the book,” Hoseok starts, earning a raised brow from you. “It’s a whole lot to digest even when it’s merely a children’s book. What makes you like it so much?”

You shrug, eyes averting from his briefly. “I just admire how the Grinch put so much effort to ‘steal’—” You quote with your fingers. “—Christmas. I mean he’s an entertaining character to read about.”

Hoseok tilts his head. “What makes him so?”

“He sticks to his plans and goes through with it. I admire his perseverance despite the hardships he has been through. And I feel the same way about Christmas as he does.”

“Do you not like Christmas?”

“Nope. Don’t like this season at all.”

“May I ask why?”

“It’s…” Your eyes are downcast, gaze on your steaming cup of coffee. “It’s a bit overrated, in my personal opinion. This season seems to force people to be happy.”

“Huh…” Hoseok sips his coffee. “I never really thought about it in that way. But I can understand. Is there anything else that makes the book so special?” Curiosity swimming in his eyes. “You mentioned in your review that it’s comforting, but how so?”

Just how on earth can this man be so observant?

You purse your lips, pondering. “Well, it’s comforting to see how the Grinch manages to have a change of—” You falter before shaking your head. “He’s just a great character.”

Hoseok nods, agreeing with you.

Then you change the subject, asking him how he got into gardening and decided to open his flower shop. Conversation flows so easily between the two of you that time flies so quickly.

When you step out of the cafe building with Hoseok, you couldn’t stop smiling as you hold on to the bouquet he gifted in hand. You walk back together, just enjoying each other’s presence. That is until you come across the carolling choir who takes notice of you, or actually, of Hoseok.

“Hobi!” One of them calls out, breaking from the group. Her puppy-like excitement exudes out of her in waves as she draws closer. And then you recognise her as the chipper chatterbox whom you never bother to learn the name of.

Hoseok greets her, “It’s good to see you.”

Then she glances at you, more specifically the bouquet of irises in your hands. “You both went on a date?”

You snort, earning a surprised glance from Hoseok and the girl. “We just got coffee, and Hoseok is nice enough to bring me these lovely flowers as a gift. But, I don’t think it’s any of your business, right?” Lifting a brow, you spare her a questioning stare — recognising that familiar face — as she fails to come up with an answer. “And shouldn’t you get back to your singing activities spreading the Christmas spirit in this public area?” Sarcasm dripping your tone.

Her gaze narrows at you as a flash of recognition crosses her. “Aren’t you the one who sent us away from our first location?”

You nod blatantly. “You were singing in front of my shop. You were disturbing.”

“That was so rude—”

“I did warn you and your group before,” You quip. “Or would you rather I call the police next time?”

Hoseok gapes at your exchange with Chatterbox seemingly at a loss. Lucky for you — well, Chatterbox actually — the tense conversation ceases as another choir member approaches you, this time a lovely-looking elder lady. “Oh, Y/N!”

You blink, expecting her to recognise Hoseok instead since the boy is a social butterfly and probably know half of the townspeople already. “Y-You know me?” Her delicate features are somewhat familiar.

“Well, of course, I do! I volunteer in the or—”

And it clicks. “Oh!” You cut her off loudly. “Oh, nice to meet you!” Hoping the pleading look you send her can stop her from blurting other things besides pleasantries. Fortunately, she gets the message as she smiles knowingly at you before glancing at Hoseok who is utterly quiet as Chatterbox talks his ear off while he mindlessly nods.

“I should get back to my store,” you explain.

The lady smiles warmly, reducing her voice to a whisper, “Hope you come to visit us again this year.”

“I won’t miss it,” you reply with a smile of your own.

Her eyes light up at that. “And Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Have a good day, Miriam.”

And when you finally turn your attention to Hoseok, he’s already looking at you mouthing, You want to go?

You give him a brief nod. He smiles, bidding Chatterbox goodbye. But what nearly sends your heart into overdrive is that he strides to you and grabs your hand as if it’s the only natural thing to do.

“Slow down!” You huff as Hoseok turns briefly to give you a cheeky smile.

“I thought you couldn’t wait to get out of there,” he teases, steps slowing down. Your hand goes limp, but instead of letting go of your hand, Hoseok interlaces his fingers with yours.

“I couldn’t wait to get out of there myself,” Hoseok comments. “I thought my ears were going to fall off.”

Letting out a chuckle, you tease, “I thought you were enjoying her company.”

Hoseok shakes his head. “She was mean to you. I don’t like that.”

At his words, you stumble on your steps. If it isn’t for his fast reflexes, you would be face-planting to the ground. “Ah, t-thank you.”

He chuckles, “No problem.”

And you curse your own heart for beating faster at his smile.

“She’s not bad, Jimin.”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin huffs, wiping the table aggressively. “Until she decides to piss you off all the time.”

“What did she do to you?”

“Don’t even get me started.” Jimin clicks his tongue in annoyance. “She literally said to take the choir crew away from her store, and Ellie—”

“Ellie…?” Confusion is written all over Hoseok’s face.

“The girl who likes you,” Jimin sighs.

“Who???”

Jimin makes a face. “For someone who flirts easily, you’re awfully dense to someone else’s feelings.”

Hoseok lets out an unamused snort. “I don’t flirt—”

“You gave Y/N flowers,” Jimin gives him a pointed look.

“How did—” Hoseok comes to a realisation. “—right, Jungkook.” he mumbles before he explains, “It was supposed to be an apology gift—”

“And then yesterday you empty your supply of iris flowers too to give her for no apparent reason—”

“The kid should really learn to shut his mouth.” Hoseok groans, his cheek heating in embarrassment.

“—if that isn’t called flirting—”

“Jimin, you flirt with everyone too.”

“That’s different, hyung. I charm people.”

Hoseok sighs. “We’re going off track here.”

“Okay, so I had told the choir members to sing a few blocks away from her store. But, she drove them away again!” Jimin slaps the table with the cloth.

Hoseok scrunches his eyebrows. “What do you mean a few blocks away? Y/N said she found them in front of the bookstore again.”

“That’s not what Ellie told me.”

“I still don’t know who Ellie is, but I think there’s a whole misunderstanding here.”

“No, hyung. There is no clear proof—”

“Did you ask the other choir members?” Hoseok asks before sighing. “I mean, shouldn’t there at least be a few other witnesses that can confirm where exactly they were singing?”

“The entire choir said so.”

“Did they actually tell you that? Or did only Ellie tell you that and you assumed it was the whole choir crew’s answer?”

Jimin purses his lips.

“Y/N is not the type to lie, Jimin. It’s not fair to her if you only consider one person’s point of view. And I saw how unhappy Y/N was that day. Don’t you think you should’ve confirmed it with other people first before jumping to conclusions?” Hoseok lets out another disgruntled sigh.

Jimin goes silent, seemingly pondering at Hoseok’s words.

“And I invited her here—” Hoseok points at the ground, indicating the bakery. “—that afternoon, since she likes your sugar doughnuts. And other things you bake. Thought it might cheer her up, but look how it went.” He raises his arms in exasperation.

“She tried it? She never even stepped into the bakery until she came along that time with you!”

“Well…”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ flashback ]

“___, I’ll take more of these home today!” Hoseok lifts up his hand that’s holding the powdered doughnut.

Jimin’s girlfriend nods. “Anything else?”

“Oh! Your caramel cookies too, please.”

She nods again. “Coming right up.”

A few minutes later, Hoseok steps out of the bakery with a paper bag in hand. His nose is buried in his scarlet scarf, and he hums a soft tune while padding through the snow-covered sidewalk. As he gets closer to your dimly-lighted bookstore, his glove-covered hands start to grow clammy while his heart beats a tad faster.

“Y/N~” He calls out after the bell of the doorstep rings.

You scramble up to your feet from your slouching position behind the cashier register, wide-eyed. “H-Hoseok? What are you—” Your words falter when he lifts up the paper bag in his hold, grinning at your confused state.

“I brought some sweets.” He stops right in front of you, placing down the bag before opening it. “So… I got some powdered doughnuts…” He takes it out. “I hope you like them.”

“Well, yes. But—”

He puts the paper-wrapped doughnut on your hand. “Go ahead, try it.”

“I…”

“Or do you want me to feed you?” Hoseok teases, raising up the other doughnut towards your mouth. “Then here, ah—”

You take a step back, avoiding his reach before taking a bite out of your doughnut. He laughs at your pout while you chew, patiently waiting until you swallow it. “So...?”

Nodding slowly, you observe the bitten doughnut for a few moments then snap your gaze at him. “Thank you. This is really good.” You take another bite of the doughnut, fighting back the instinct to smile.

“Great! Now, try the caramel cookies!”

“Wait, but I—”

Hoseok plucks the doughnut from your hold, replacing it with a caramel cookie and urges you to try it and you comply.

“Where did you get this?” Eyes full of wonder as you stare at the cookie.

“Jimin’s bakery.”

“What? No way.”

Hoseok tilts his head in curiosity. “You’ve never tried his baked goods before? Even after months the bakery has opened?”

You shake your head. “Never had the chance. I assumed it’s nothing special. But now…”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

“She said what?” Jimin gapes, not sure if he heard what Hoseok said was right.

Hoseok repeats, “She likes your sugar doughnuts and caramel cookies. She said they were ‘excellent delicacies’ when she tried them.” More precisely, you said, I suppose despite his absurd personality, he still makes excellent delicacies. But Hoseok knows better than to say that.

Jimin is downright speechless at your compliment.

“Anyways,” Hoseok clears his throat. “As I was saying, I frequently visit her, and on that day she wasn’t happy at all, Jimin. So, I didn’t visit her that morning to let her cool off and visit her during the afternoon.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ flashback ]

Hoseok gazes up from his phone when the streetlight turns green. Shoving the device into his coat’s pocket, he crosses the street. From the corner of his eye, your bookstore comes to his view, and a smile appears on his face. As he draws nearer, his steps grow lighter. That is until he peeks in from the window and notices a deep frown on your face. He falters, weighing his own thoughts on whether or not to approach you at this moment. And he decides against it and plans to visit you in the afternoon instead to let you cool off from, perhaps, an argument.

And off he goes, still passing by your store; still purposefully slowing down his steps to see you through the stained glass window for longer, to see if you’re okay. He’s surprised at the sight of you tracing your jukebox slowly, gazing at it fondly. It must have meant so much to you, he assumes. Smiling softly, Hoseok continues down the pathway to his flower shop.

It’s nearly midday when a familiar face from Jimin’s choir group visits him. She waves at him. “Hobi!”

“Welc—”

“So, glad to see you again!” The girl squeals as she reaches him at the counter.

“Hi…”

“How are you?”

“Good and uh, shouldn’t you be singing with your choir members?”

Her face falls slightly at his question before she scoffs, “It’s cancelled because someone was so rude. She just told us to scram. Like who does that? We’re spreading the Christmas spirit! Everyone should be happy, especially at this time of year!”

And Hoseok instantly has an inkling of who this someone is. “I don’t think we have the right to judge someone. Everyone has their own problems, after all.”

She seems genuinely shocked by Hoseok’s words. But Hoseok didn’t bother waiting for her response as he said, “If you aren’t planning to buy anything, I would appreciate it if you leave. There are other customers here. And I would listen to Y/N if I were you.”

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

“I’m sorry.”

You raise a brow at the unexpected guest who is standing right in front of you, eyeing him briefly before shifting your attention to the man beside him.

“What are you both doing here?” You ask. “More specifically, what are you doing here?” Your gaze snaps back to Jimin, who is huffing in annoyance with his arms crossed against his chest — looking like he was just scolded by, you presume, the grinning man beside him. So you ask, “Hoseok, what is this?”

“I talked some sense into him,” he replies, elbowing Jimin not-so-subtly.

“I am here to apologise, Y/N. For the way I reacted in the bakery—”

Your stare narrows. “I thought we’re past that. And I told you it was my fault.”

“Would you please let me finish?” Jimin asks in a surprisingly polite manner. You assume he’s trying his best not to get frustrated further with you since, well, you always have that irritating presence during this time of the year and have the knack to run his patience thin. “I also want to apologise for assuming the worst of you.”

Now that catches you off-guard. Your silence spurs him on.

“I contacted the choir members and told them to not sing in front of your store. And I told them to sing at least a few blocks away. I should have confirmed their location with you instead of blindly trusting the people I barely interact with outside of choir activities—”

Not like we interact much either, you thought but hold back your tongue.

“—and it was my mistake for doing that. I only recently found out that they were really in front of your store—” He glances Hoseok, unamused. “—Hyung had contacted the choir people and had them confirm that they were singing in front of your store. Which is why—”

The sudden burst of your door opening startles the three of you.

“You brought her here?” Your expression clearly shows disdain at the sight of Chatterbox strutting in like she owns the place. And you wish nothing but to kick her out at this moment because she’s like an impending doom that’s about to befall your bookstore.

“No, we didn’t—” Hoseok looks flustered.

“I’m here to spread the Christmas spirit to Y/N!” Chatterbox claims with a few drinks in her hand. “Since she seems to hate our singing so much, I thought a few drinks will ease her up for Christmas!”

“Did she follow us?” Hoseok hisses to Jimin who looks just as flustered.

“I thought she should apologise to Y/N too.”

“Clearly, she has the wrong idea about this meeting,” Hoseok groans. However, just before Jimin can respond, a crash cuts him off.

It feels as if time is slowing down and your heart drops when she trips over one of the antique rugs and spills on…

“No!” You lurch forward — figure blocked by the counter you’re standing behind — towards the jukebox that’s drenched in eggnog, regarding it with widened eyes and trembling hands in the air.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Chatterbox whispers, standing up straight on her feet. “I… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

You clench your fists as you snap your head towards her, eyes blazing. “Get out.”

“But the drinks—”

“I said, get out!” Rarely do you ever raise your voice, but you are already trembling in anger as no one made a single move. You grab Chatterbox, pulling her along with such strength that she struggled against your iron-like grip.

“I said I was sorry!”

“Well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it!” You seethe, shoving her out like a ragdoll. Jimin approaches you carefully and tries to appease you, but you shake your head. “Now, this is your fault.”

Hoseok looks downright devastated as he watches you. “Y/N…”

“Get out, leave me alone.”

There are no other words but warmth and pure joy that can describe the sight of children excitedly rushing towards you; they are all giggling and squealing.

“Uh, please don’t block the way,” you huff. Stopping momentarily, you lift a knee to support your hold on the heavy box briefly to prevent it from slipping down.

“Y/N,” Miriam greets you with a warm smile on her face. “So glad that you can make it.”

“Of course,” you reply, crouching to place the heavy box on the wooden floor of the living room. Taking off your gloves, you ask, “Where’s Helen?”

“She’s staying with her grandson for a couple of days; said something about a family Christmas reunion.”

“Ah…” You tear open the duct tape and take out the children’s books you packed a few weeks ago. “Well, then—”

“Y/N! Are you going to read us a Christmas story this time?” One of the children — Amy — asks with a big smile on her face.

“I shouldn’t… Maybe Helen can read to you once she’s back—” Words die on your throat at the expectant — hopeful — gazes of the children that have gathered in the warm living room. “Okay… Maybe one book won’t hurt—”

The children squeal happily.

“—so, you guys pick whichever book you want, and I’ll read it to you.” Then they rush to the opened cardboard box. You make yourself comfortable against the velvet cushions that’s spread on the rug-covered floor. While the children are busy discussing which book would be their pick, you fish out your phone from the pocket of your discarded coat only to realise that Helen had sent you a message that she won’t be in the orphanage tonight.

After replying to her with some reassurance — that you’d take over the story-telling position just for today — your fingers hover over Hoseok’s unread messages from yesterday night. Well, since the day you told him to get out of your bookstore in your fit of rage.

Hoseok constantly messaged you about many things — asking how you are doing, if you want to go out to get some coffee, or even just ramble about his day. You read all of them through the notifications from your phone — the ones that are not cut off by the message bubble — and your heart aches just a little more.

“This one!” Amy runs up to you, handing the book before taking the spot right next to you.

When you read the title, you falter. “Wait, are the others okay with this or are there any books you’d like me to read?” You look around at the children who are already in their respective seats surrounding you in a half-circle; they nod eagerly.

Letting out a sigh, you purse your lips for a brief moment. “Alright then—” You lift the book up; front cover facing the children. “How the Grinch Stole Christmas…”

Then you flip the book open and begin reading the story…

✧༺♡༻∞ ∞༺♡༻✧

By the time you have finished reading the book, it’s nearly midnight; most of the children have fallen asleep with a content smile on their faces. You make it your mission to help Miriam tuck them into their beds since Helen is not here tonight.

“I really appreciate what you did today, Y/N.” Miriam follows you out of the building, stopping on the doorway.

“It’s not a problem, really.” You put on your gloves.

“But I really appreciate it, Y/N. And you know you will always be welcomed here.” Miriam reminds you.

You let out a sheepish chuckle. “Thanks, Miriam. Maybe I’ll come back and help around.”

She pulls you in for a hug. “The children love you. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled whenever you decide to come visit.”

After exchanging a few more words, you leave the orphanage and walk into the winter night. Gradually, your thoughts take you to Hoseok once more. You’d be lying if you don’t miss his presence and it has been just a few days since the incident. However, you just can’t find the right words to explain yourself, not when Christmas Eve is nearing.

Shaking your head, you keep your gaze low; eyes focusing on the snow-covered streets while the night grows darker with only street lanterns dimly lighting up the pathway. Just as you pass a particular house, loud laughter catches your attention, causing your legs to stop abruptly.

Through the bright window, you watch silently at what seems to be a Christmas gathering. You recognise some people who live in the same neighbourhood as you; even Jimin and Jungkook are there and… And Hoseok. Their smiles are so warm, and they seem to be enjoying themselves as they sit by the fireplace. The lively atmosphere inside the warm room is a definite contrast to the quietness of the night outside.

Letting out a sigh, you stop watching and continue on your way; once you arrive at your house, you mutter weakly, “I’m home…” After taking off your boots and gloves, you tug off your coat, brushing off the snow before you hang it on the coat hanger. Making your way towards the dark kitchen, you flip the light on and boil some water.

While waiting for it, your own mind seems to have an internal battle of its own. After that incident, you think it’s better to revert back to your old self who has no worries in being alone. However, after spending time with those children — it’s hard to admit, but you know you can’t be alone at this time of year. Spending time buried between pages of a book no longer distracts your thoughts, nor does sorting out books that are usually enough to distract you.

Opening the cabinet, you take out a box of your favourite tea, placing it on the counter. Looking back at the opened cabinet, you falter for a moment, staring at the unused mugs labelled ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’. With pursed lips, you quickly take your own mug and close the cabinet.

Rain drizzles down onto the asphalt path while the repeated sound of Hoseok’s footsteps crunching fills the empty air. He avoids the wet snow, treading carefully to not soak his boots further in this weather. Rain during winter is perhaps one of the things Hoseok considers unpleasant, but it reflects his current mood despite today being Christmas Eve.

Crossing the familiar street with an opened umbrella in hand, he lets out a sigh into the cold air, fog coming out with his exhale. Growing nearer to your dark bookstore, his heart grows heavier with each step. He stops momentarily and peeks inside your darkened bookstore, then his shoulders drop in disappointment.

Arriving at his store, he closes his umbrella before entering. Hoseok rubs the sole of his boots against the ‘welcome’ rug, shaking the umbrella to shed the remaining frozen droplets on the material.

Jungkook — already onto his task of assembling bouquets — spares a glance at the older man. “No luck?”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Hoseok mutters a ‘no’, passing by the counter gate and into the employee changing room.

It’s been more than a week since anyone has seen you. There has always been warm light filtering out through the window of your bookstore. However, now, your bookstore is completely dark as if life itself has been snuffed out of it.

Tugging off his thick coat, Hoseok places it on the hanger then takes the usual apron, tying it around his waist.

Hoseok wonders what had happened; the expression on your face was unlike anything he had ever seen… And, he really wants to reach out, but you have seemingly disappeared without a trace. As he’s rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, he’s still deep in thought, that is until Jungkook gasps rather loudly.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?”

But his movements stop completely when he hears a familiar voice — the voice he has been dying to hear again. In seconds, he barrels out of the room slamming the door albeit too loudly, startling Jungkook and…

“Y/N…” He stands in shock, still processing that you’re here.

“Hey,” you say nonchalantly, “I’d like a bouquet of chrysanthemums and dahlias, please.”

The three of you lapse into silence for a few moments until Jungkook mutters, “I’ll… Work on them... Yeah...” Jungkook snaps his finger while pursing his lips. “I’ll do just that…” Jungkook gets to work immediately, leaving you both near the main counter as he scuffles around the shop where the chrysanthemum and dahlias are.

Your gaze wanders along the neatly placed shelves on your side, and the various colourful flowers that’s set in silver-coloured buckets. It’s your first time visiting his store, and it is unexpected, alright. After your “disappearance”, you’re now here as if nothing has happened.

“I texted you…” Hoseok mumbles, earning your attention on him. “I called you too; visited your store a few times. What happened?”

“I needed time to get myself together,” you answer, fiddling with the button of your black coat.

“Why didn’t you call or at least let me know you’re okay? You had me really worried.”

“Because it’s none of your business.” You speak monotonously, but it still manages to strike at his heart.

Hoseok clenches his fists. “Right… My friend’s business is none of my concern.”

You exhale at that but still keep your mouth shut. Even as Jungkook timidly passes by you with the wrapped bouquet. Right after you pay for the flowers, you rush out.

Hoseok releases a breath that he did not even know he was holding. And he can feel his heart squeezing in pain.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

In silence, standing in front of the two tombstones — with an umbrella on one hand — you lay the bouquet between them. One shoulder is drenched from the rain, but you don't find it in yourself to care; not at this moment when all you can think about are your parents and that tragic day.

Countless of tears you have shed on the same day, each year; though it has been half a decade since then. But your heart still lays heavy in your chest, borderline suffocating in the middle of the quiet cemetery. And it feels as if it just happened recently.

Tearing your gaze away from the tombstone, you look up to the cloudy sky and blink rapidly — adamant about not letting any tears fall this year. With a deep breath, you look back down and leave.

The cold isn’t the worst when you walk back. Usually, you would even cry on the way home thinking about your parents. But this time, your mind persistently drifts to the disappointment on Hoseok’s face from earlier, unable to forget as if it is burned into your mind.

Biting your trembling lower lip, your steps grow faster to your bookstore. You promised Miriam you would come to visit the orphanage and bring more books for the children.

Arriving at the front door, you slot in the key and are about to unlock the door when you freeze momentarily, body seizing as your brows furrow. Taking a slow deep breath, you open the door and darkness greets you as usual. Closing the door behind you, the sound of your boots clicking on the wooden floor fills the air as you make a beeline towards the storage. Flicking the light on, your eyes search for the packed box on the corner, lifting it up in your arms once you find it before turning the lights off.

Walking between the shelves towards the front door, the jukebox appears in your sight. As everything that happened comes rushing back, you move towards it — dropping the box on the floor, nearly tripping over it — and your eyes looking around it frantically. “It should work now…” You mumble to yourself, at the now-cleaned jukebox and after letting it dry for days. You click the usual button, and wait…

And wait…

And…

“No…” Hands trembling, you make an attempt and press the button once more, but it just won’t turn on. “Please, please, please…” You begin to plead, tears welling up in your eyes and again you press the on button. This is the last resort, after all. You’ve called all the possible service stores that fix instruments and jukeboxes, but they all had the same response, ‘We’re sorry, this model is too old.’

“I’m sorry…” You whimper, knees giving out as a sob escapes your lips. “I’m sorry…”

The last piece of memory of your parents ceases. And your heart has never felt so cold on the night of Christmas Eve.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

When the fiftieth sigh escapes Hoseok’s lips, Jungkook spares him an empathetic glance as he does his task. “You should talk to her.”

“I don’t think she wants to.”

“Huh… That sounds so unlike you,” Jungkook muses as he cleans up the counter. “And you’ve been brooding all day.”

“I do not brood.”

“Tell that to the five customers the usual all-sunshine-and-rainbow florist has scared away today,” Jungkook remarks and stops cleaning to face Hoseok. “You should talk to her, Hyung. It hasn’t stopped you before. What changed?”

“I… I don’t...” Hoseok falters, searching for an answer. “She’s my friend, I…”

“You…?” Jungkook nods with a know-it-all look, urging the older one to continue.

Hoseok narrows his stare at the younger one. “You’re mocking me.”

“Nope,” Jungkook says, emphasising the ‘p’ with a pop. “I mean, you have always been forward with your feelings, and I really admire that. Unlike, you know, Jimin—” He pauses. “—please don’t tell him that, but yeah, what’s stopping you now?”

“I just—” Hoseok releases a deep sigh. “—I don’t want to lose her, not after everything. And she’s the type of person who really values her space. I can’t just barge in and demand to make everything alright. She’ll come around, and she’ll show it when she’s ready.”

Jungkook purses his lips, seemingly in deep thought.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” Hoseok asks in frustration.

“I think I know why…” Jungkook mutters.

“Why Y/N is acting the way she did?”

“No, not exactly,” Jungkook answers. “But on why she hates Jimin’s guts, ‘cuz you know, he tends to not read the situation he’s in and go all in without thinking of the consequences—”

Hoseok makes an attempt to cut Jungkook off. However, Jungkook raises his hand to stop Hoseok as he continues, “—but you—” Jungkook gives Hoseok a pointed look. “— you tend to read the situation you’re in and that’s a good thing. So, I suggest, instead of moping around, you can just go to her and see how she is doing? See if she wants to talk and if she does, you talk, and if not, then you can leave.”

Blinking, those words sink into Hoseok’s mind. “That’s actually… A great idea…”

“Yeah, wonder why no one has thought about it, but ends up scaring away customers instead,” Jungkook retorts and clears his throat at the glare Hoseok sends his way. “Which, you know, is okay since we’re humans, after all, right? We make mistakes. And the only thing we can do is try to make up for it.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes at that before chuckling. “You’re right, JK.”

“I know I— I mean, am I?”

Hoseok clicks his tongue. “Right, okay. So, I’ll go check on Y/N. And since it’s already closing hours—” He glances at the wall clock while untying his apron. “—you can just close up today.”

“What?”

But Hoseok ignores him and runs straight into the changing room to grab his coat. Once he goes out, he tosses the key to Jungkook. “I’m entrusting you with it.”

“Wait, but—”

“See you tomorrow!”

And Hoseok rushes out of his store, leaving a baffled Jungkook behind.

Hoseok scores a new record in the number of minutes it takes for him to reach your bookstore. However, his shoulder droops as the last bit of his hope vanishes at the sight of the dark place.

So, you had left. Or still not coming in.

He steps closer to the window, futilely peeking inside. After a few moments, he sighs in disappointment, putting his hands inside the pocket of his long plaid coat. Just as he’s about to leave, he stops — furrowing his brows when…

Is that a whimper?

Curiously, he goes near the door once more and makes an attempt to turn the knob and it opens. Eyes widening, he enters quickly into the darkness. And there he can finally (barely) see your hunched figure on the floor beside your antique jukebox, burying your face as your arms are wrapped around your knees… Crying?

“Y/N?” He calls out in hesitance, taking a few steps closer. You look at him and Hoseok braces for you to tell him to get out.

But instead, all you can mumble is his name. “Hoseok…”

“Hey…” Slowly, Hoseok crouches on one knee to meet your gaze. “I’m here.”

You merely stare at him, unmoving.

“You’re not alone anymore, Y/N,” he says, softly. “I’m here.”

Throat bobbing, more tears flow down across your cheeks. Hoseok opens his arms. “Come here.”

One moment you are still unmoving, and the next you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Hoseok leans back — both knees on the floor now — one hand gently pats your head while the other arm keeps you close to him.

“Let it all out. I’m here now,” He whispers, letting your face rest against the crook of his neck. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”

[ flashback ]

It should have been a happy time for Hoseok as he gathers with all the people he cares about. Well, not all of them when you have not even read his texts. He scrolls through his phone mindlessly, staring at the texts he had sent over the past few days.

Hoseok [18/12]: Hey… how’re you feeling? I brought some sugar doughnuts today but you weren’t working today :( i hope everything’s well

Hoseok [20/12]: Y/N, i’m really sorry about what happened. Please let me know if you need anything

Hoseok [21/12]: you know i hate it when it rains so hard during the winter, i swear i came into my shop with icicles hanging on my face and jungkook had to say that i looked like that squirrel from ice age 😭 anyway, i met a tough customer today… I spent three hours waiting for them to choose which flowers they’d like for their bouquet. Even jungkook was close to combusting as well. it was torture 😢

Hoseok [22/12]: Hey, so we’re having a christmas celebration tomorrow, would you like to come? It’ll be fun!

Hoseok [23/12]: hey, Y/N! I was wondering if you’re going to make it to the celebration?

But that last text was hours ago and you had remained unresponsive. Hoseok sighs harshly and his emotions overwhelm him. And he lets himself think if you’re worth all the trouble and turmoil he’s facing.

“Something on your mind, dear?” His grandmother asks, placing one comforting hand on his knee. “I know that look on your face all too well. Your father used to have that look whenever he’s in deep thought. So, let me guess, is it a girl?”

Hoseok blinks a few times, flustered at his grandmother’s guess. “Yes, but well, no? Not really?”

“Who is it? I never heard any news about your love life. And now, your dear grandmother is absolutely curious,” she says, laughing with mirth lighting up her crinkled eyes.

Hoseok smiles softly at his grandmother before he relents and tells her all about you. At the mention of your name, he swears his grandmother just smiles a tad wider.

“It’s about time she finds someone,” she mutters to herself but Hoseok still hears it anyway.

“You know Y/N, Grandma?”

She nods. “Y/N used to live in the orphanage a few years ago… Poor thing.”

Hoseok gapes at that. “I… Never knew.” His heart twisting painfully in guilt and worry. “I’ve always assumed she had a really bad past since she never talks about it.”

“Definitely traumatising for someone so young to face heavy losses.” His grandma explains. “She dealt with most of it on her own, and… She may come across as cold, but she isn’t cruel, she’s just closed off,” Helen says softly. “But I guess you know that already?”

Hoseok nods.

“So, don’t give up on her. I think right now, she needs someone more than ever. She has had no one to lean on for so long.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

[ present time ]

You stare silently at the crackling flames with a blanket wrapped around your frame and for some time your mind stays quiet after you have emptied out your pent-up emotions. Hoseok busies himself in the kitchen for a few minutes, and brings out two mugs of hot chocolate.

After your cry fest in the bookstore, Hoseok has taken you to his place for some hot chocolate he received from his grandmother, who had insisted that he should let you try it even when you know nothing of her. You rejected the offer at first, not wanting to bother him more after your breakdown. But Hoseok being Hoseok, from the time you have gotten to know him, you’ve learned that he can be very persuasive and persistent. And now, here you are, where he claims is his humble abode.

One thing for sure, this place screams Hoseok. It’s definitely more to the cozy side despite some unique furniture you spot decorating the place.

“Thank you,” you murmur, taking a mug from his extended hand as he takes a seat beside you on the couch.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better...” You take a sip of the hot chocolate, sweetness spreading across your tastebuds. And you resist the urge to hum in delight.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Hoseok shifts his gaze from the flames to you.

“Why did you help me?” You blurt out. “I mean, you didn’t have to… Like just now, and after the way I treated you, usually people would... Leave.”

Hoseok ponders for a moment. “Maybe it’s because they don’t know you like I do.”

“But we just met each other not too long ago.”

“And that’s enough for me to get to know you, at least some part of you. And as I’ve mentioned before, I would really like to get to know you even better.”

“I don’t think you really do…” You mumble, staring into the half-finished hot chocolate.

Hoseok snorts at that. “You’re someone who really values her space and if someone dares to cross that line you’ll give them hell for it.”

His facial expression softens further as he continues, “And you’re also someone who knows how to stand up for herself, not needing anyone to defend you. You don’t care what others think of you because you already know your own worth.”

You stare at him wide-eyed.

“Do you need me to continue? Because I still have more and—”

“Hoseok… I’m not— I don’t think I’m a nice person to be around...” you admit.

“That is the most ridiculous sentence I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” Hoseok scoffs. “So you’re telling me someone forced you to donate children books to the orphanage and read to those children?” He recalls the pictures his grandmother showed him the other day — of you reading to the children and having a pleasant time with them.

Blinking, you gape at him. “H-How did—”

“My grandma told me.” Hoseok is now looking at you, unamused. You shoot him a confused look as he explains further, “Helen is my grandmother. And I may not know what you have gone through, Y/N. But I told you I’m here and you don’t have to face things on your own now.”

You look away from his gaze, unable to keep looking into his intense stare any longer.

“Why do you hate Christmas?”

You stiffen at his question as it becomes silent between the two of you besides the crackling sound of flames. Hoseok sighs after a few moments, placing his hand on your arm briefly as if to say ‘it’s alright’ then standing up from the couch.

Just as he’s about to step into the kitchen, you blurt out, “I loathe Christmas.” And his steps falter, he turns slightly to look at you fiddling with the mug nervously. “I hate anything that has to do with Christmas because like I once told you, this season seems to force people to be happy. It doesn’t care whether or not you’re hurting inside, no consideration of how people truly feel in the heart. And I gradually find it pointless and fake.”

You shut your eyes tightly. “I… I lost my parents on Christmas Eve.” And the image of the car flipping upside down still vivid in your mind and you can hear the crash as clear. “I don’t deserve to feel happy, not when I should’ve gone with them at the incident. I-I should have gone with them. It's n-not fair that they’re gone and I’m here and alone and if I’m happy while they’re not here—” you blabber, hands shaking rapidly. “It’s not fair and now, I’ve failed them, I lost them— Their jukebox is broken and I can’t do anything about it,” you whimper. “Just like that day.”

“Y/N…” And you didn’t realise Hoseok is already in front of you, crouching. He lays his hand gently on yours after taking your mug, placing it on the coffee table. “Look at me,” he stares up into your eyes, gaze so warm and gentle that you might even break down again. It’s been a long time since someone looked at you that way. “You can’t take responsibility over the things that are out of your control.”

“And what you had gone through is unimaginable, but do you think you’ve punished yourself enough, even though it’s not your fault? You stopped letting yourself enjoy life itself and — correct me if I’m wrong — your parents wouldn’t want that for you,” Hoseok says. “Would they want you to be trapped in your past?”

You let his words sink in.

“And despite your jukebox not working anymore, that doesn’t mean that your parents are gone.” Hoseok grips your forearm, lifting your right hand to place it on top of your heart. “They live in you. You’re their daughter after all. The jukebox only serves as a memory of them, but surely, you have other memories of them.”

After all this time, you realised that’s what you needed to hear — you haven’t failed your parents, despite everything.

“And looking at how you’ve grown into this amazing woman that I have the privilege to get to know, I’m definitely sure your parents are proud of you.”

Face crumpling, your palm covers your eyes as another sob escapes your throat.

Sitting again next to you, Hoseok coos and gathers you in his arms. “Cry all you want, I’m here, love. I’m here…”

And you cried again, the hardest you’ve done in a long time.

Once you have calmed down, you murmur, “They used to dance around the house a lot...” Tear-stained cheek resting against his chest as you find yourself curled up on his lap. “Hanging socks and filling them with candies, claiming that they’re for the elves that visit late at night.”

Hoseok leans against the throw pillows, quietly listening as you tell stories of how your parents used to love the winter season. His warmth comforts you and your still-aching heart.

That night you fell asleep in his arms; the last bit of your emotions all used up, but your heart definitely feels lighter than the past years.

Knocking on the wooden door, you clear your throat, hearing scurrying footsteps before the door opens.

“Y/N!” Miriam exclaims. “I was so worried, you didn’t show up yesterday.”

“Sorry, something came up yesterday and I didn’t realise how late it was when I was done. But I bring another couple of books?” You lift up the box in your hands in emphasis.

Miriam lights up at that. “Well, come on in. The children will be so happy. They are excited to—”

“Oof—!” The loud thump behind you causes you to turn to see Hoseok huffing, catching his breath — one hand on his knee as he sits on the stairs — another box on top of the stoop. “I didn’t realise how much book you’ve packed, Y/N.”

Snorting, you place the box you’re holding on your left hip and extend your right hand to him, instinctively, to help him up. “C’mon, the children are inside and we should help to unpack the boxes first.” He takes your hand and pulls himself up, nearly stumbling and having his face close to yours.

As if his piercing gaze locks you in a trance, you stare back until he murmurs, “Well, someone is looking beautiful today.”

Spluttering, you let go of his hand, face burning. “Let’s go.”

Hoseok laughs at your embarrassment before he lifts up the box on the floor and makes his way inside, passing by Miriam who’s waiting by the door.

When you step inside, Miriam whispers, “Is he—?” Her tone lace with curiosity as a teasing smile appears on her lips.

“Uh, no, he’s not my boyfriend—” You say too quickly, flustered.

“Well, I meant to ask if he is Helen’s grandson, but I see.” Miriam fails to stifle a big smile now. “You two would look really good together.”

You curse yourself, walking faster as Miriam laughs behind you, closing the door. When you reach the living room, the children are already waiting and once you step into their view, they squeal happily.

“Y/N! Y/N!” Amy waves to you giddily. “Hobi says you brought more books for us!”

“H-Hobi…?” You blink. Snapping your gaze towards said man who is already looking at you intently and you avert your gaze once more to the grinning children. “Umm, yeah. I do.” You sit beside Hoseok, tearing the tape off the boxes you two brought in.

This time you brought in colouring books and other story books.

“Can Hobi read to us today?” One of the children asks.

You shift your gaze to his surprised face, a teasing smile appears on your face. “Yeah, Hobi, you should read to them today.”

Hoseok narrows his gaze at you before leaning close to whisper, “You should call me ‘Hobi’ from now on.” Then he turns to the children, smiling. “Alright, I’ll read for today. And which book do you want to read?”

“Which one is your favourite, Hobi?” Another kid — Ian — asks, curiously looking through the books.

“Well…” Hoseok scans through the titles of the stacked books. Your eyes widen at his pick. “This one!” He lifts up the How the Grinch Stole Christmas book.

“Wait— I read that to them already,” you try to stop the children’s interested looks.

“He can read it to us again!” Amy says giddily. “I think it’s a really nice story!”

“But there are other better books to read,” you offer. “Like…” You look through the books you brought. “This! The Night Before Christmas!” you read the title aloud.

“We can read that later,” Quin whines. “We want to hear Hobi read the book!”

Unbelievable. How the hell can these children choose him over you already?

As if he can read your mind, Hoseok shoots you a smug look and you pout like a petulant child. “Fine, I’m gonna go to the kitchen to help Miriam,” you huff, standing up and stomp out.

Hoseok watches your figure disappear into the kitchen before he says, “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”

Amy nods, grinning. “She’s grown up, but she’s still like us! That’s why playing with Y/N is so fun!”

“Right…” He gives a brief soft smile at Amy before he clears throat. “So let’s begin…”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“You’re not reading to the children?” Miriam asks when you appear in the kitchen.

“No, Hoseok’s handling that.” You take a fresh apron and tie it around your waist. “So… I’ll help out with the cookies.”

“Alright then,” Miriam chuckles, handing you the mixing bowl and mixer. “You can continue mixing the ingredients until everything’s smooth and I’ll take out the cookies I baked earlier.”

You flip the switch of the mixer on and continue to mix the ingredients. When the texture of the dough is smooth, you place the mixture into small scoops on the baking tray and that’s when you overheard Hoseok’s voice.

“What can you learn from the Grinch’s story?”

“Oh! Oh!” One of the kids exclaims. “That Christmas isn’t all about gifts!”

“That’s right,” Hoseok agrees. “And also, despite the Grinch being mean at first, even unkind, that doesn’t mean that they are truly that way at heart.”

Your movements falter at his words.

“There is always a reason behind their actions,” Hoseok points out. “So, it’s always best to learn about them first before assuming things.”

“You sound like you know the Grinch well.” Amy tilts her head in curiosity. “Do you happen to know the Grinch, Hobi?”

“Well, I don’t know the Grinch personally,” he muses. “But I do know someone who is very similar to him. Maybe that’s why I grew fond of the Grinch.”

Did Hoseok just compare you to the Grinch?

You scoff internally. Quickly, you finish scooping the rest of the cookie dough onto the tray before placing it in the oven after Miriam takes out the first batch of cookies and then retrieving a serving tray from one of the cabinets.

“Oh!” Amy raises her hand enthusiastically. “I know! I know!”

“Yes, Amy?”

“An act of kindness towards someone can change them!”

Hoseok blinks. “That… Is right.”

“That’s right.” You walk into the living room with glasses full of milk for the children. “An act of kindness can change a person’s life.” Placing the tray on the coffee table, you look at the children one by one. “So, it’s important to be kind to others.”

As if on cue, Miriam brought out the freshly-baked cookies. And the children flock around her to get a piece. She chastises them and sets the cookies on the table alongside the glasses of milk.

You spent the entire Christmas day in the orphanage, helping out and spending time with the children and Hoseok. You even meet Helen who never stops gushing once she finds the two of you visiting the orphanage.

When it’s already late at night, you and Hoseok bid the children farewell with a smile on your face and warmth in your heart. Hoseok walks you home afterwards, and silence falls between you — both comforting and soothing. Arriving in front of your doorsteps, you turn to him who is already staring at you with his bright eyes.

“Thank you for today, Hoseok—” You stop at his unamused look. “What?”

“I thought I told you to call me ‘Hobi’ from now on.” He steps closer to you. You step back. “Hearing you saying ‘Hoseok’ all the time makes it sound so formal between us.”

“Alright—” You place your hands on his chest in an attempt to push him away. “—Hobi, got it.”

“That’s better.” He chuckles at your antics before he steps back, stance growing uneasy. “And, uh, I forgot to tell you that there’s a winter market near the town hall. Would you like to come with me tomorrow?”

You nod without any hesitance.

“But Jimin will be there too.” And he adds quickly, “With his girlfriend. So, he won’t bother us and—”

“I’ll go.” You pause for a moment. “There’s something I need to resolve with him too.”

A gentle smile appears on Hoseok’s face at that. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Definitely.”

He grins before tugging you in for a hug to which you reciprocate as if it’s second nature. And you both stay like that for a while until Hoseok mumbles suddenly, “I think I left something in your bookstore when we went to pick up the books earlier.”

You laugh. “Well then, I can go with—”

“Oh no, that's okay!” He says quickly. “I’ll go there myself, if you’re okay with lending me your key?”

“Oh, sure.” You take the keys out of your pocket. “Don’t lose it, yeah?” You chuckle, handing him the keys.

He nods. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s another cold morning. Jungkook stifles a yawn as he walks along his usual route to Hoseok’s flower shop. Unable to contain his yawn any longer, he covers his face with his hand before he freezes — mid-yawn — when he sees you standing in front of the shop.

Quickly shutting his mouth, he calls out, “Y/N?”

Your gaze snaps to him from your phone. “Jungkook, hi!”

Uh-oh. Jungkook wonders if Hoseok has screwed up — since the man himself isn’t here — and now you’re seeking help from him to perhaps find ways to get rid of his hyung.

“Hey… May I ask what you’re doing here?” He checks his watch briefly. “So early…?”

“Hi, yeah, so I need a bouquet…” You fidget nervously.

“Oh?” Jungkook focuses on unlocking the glass door. “May I know what you’re looking for?”

“Hydrangeas and irises...”

He opens the door and motion for you to enter before following suit. “I’ll put my things in the back and I’ll wrap your bouquet.”

You mutter an ‘okay’ as he quickly changes into his uniform. Jungkook changes in record time as he has heard of stories of you being impatient, especially during the winter season. And well, someone has never intimidated him so much even though he is taller than you.

“Okay, so, hydrangeas and irises,” Jungkook mutters once he’s out of the changing room. He makes a quick dash towards the respective flower buckets and brings it back to the counter.

“Oh… They’re pretty,” you comment, eyeing the flowers curiously. But somehow Jungkook feels like you are scrutinizing him, ready to nitpick at him should you find any mistake or flaw.

“Why are your hands shaking?”

“Huh?”

“Your hands—” you point out. “—are shaking. Don’t you do this every day?”

“Not every day,” Jungkook mumbles, trying to stop his hands from shaking. “Anyways—” He clears his throat, changing the subject. “Who’s the special one?”

You blink. “Uh…”

Another uh-oh. This will not end well. Hyung is going to throw a major fit if he finds out about this.

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me.” Jungkook arranges the flower stems together. “No one is going to hear about this. I promise you. I know you really value your privacy.” You shoot him a confused look while he rambles. Not long after, he lifts up the bouquet. “Is... This okay?”

“Do you have yellow irises?”

“Uh, you want the yellow one?” He makes a face.

“What is it?”

“It’s going to be ugly,” he blurts out before he remembers who he's talking to. “I-I mean if you want them then I’ll search for the yellow—”

“No! That's okay!” Your hands flay to stop him from finding more irises. “It’s fine, really. I trust your opinion. You’re the expert.”

Jungkook blinks, clearly caught off-guard by your words. “Oh… I— Thank you.”

You nod, giving him a smile that is, dare he say, pretty.

“Okay,” He relaxes, bunny-smile appearing on his face. “I’ll finish this up quick.”

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook finally manages to finish the bouquet and you thank him incessantly to which he responds with a flustered ‘No problem, just doing my job…’

Rushing out of the store, you check your phone for Hobi’s text which says that he’s on the way to the market and would meet you there. With your heart fluttering, you put your phone back into your pocket after sending him a ‘see u too, hobi :)’.

Arriving in the market twenty minutes later, you spot him standing near the entrance, waving at you enthusiastically.

“Hey,” he starts before gaze dropping on the bouquet you extend to him. “Wha—”

You mumble, “These are for you...”

His eyes grow wide. “I… Thank you.” He breathes out. “Wow, this is so unexpected. I don’t know what to say.”

You let out a sheepish chuckle.

“So…” He observes the bouquet. “You bought these flowers from my shop and you’re giving them to me.”

At his words, you blink as realisation dawns on you. “Uh, oh right I—” You stammer, flustered.

And Hoseok laughs at your cuteness. “Aww, that’s okay. I’m just joking. But, thank you. It’s really meaningful.”

“You know the meaning of the flowers?”

He grabs your hand, tugging you along into the market. “Of course. Hydrangeas means—”

“—grateful for being understood.”

“Thank you for being understanding.”

You both say simultaneously.

He stops, turning to you as his hand tightens on yours.

“I never got the chance to properly thank you.” You meet his gaze. “And, I really appreciate what you did for me these past few days — months — actually. I really can’t thank you enough.”

A soft smile decorates his lips. And before the both of you are able to say anything else, a familiar voice calls out Hoseok’s name. Turning your gaze to Jimin and his girlfriend, you greet them with a small ‘hello’ and a smile. As they walk closer, Jimin has a wary look on his face while his girlfriend responds to you with a smile of her own.

“Jimin…” You earn his attention. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods as his girlfriend and Hoseok gives both of you space.

“Look. About the other day, I know you had no intention of bringing Chatterbox to my store to mess things up. I just want to apologise, you just wanted to set things right and I blamed you for her actions which you have no absolute control over.”

“No, Y/N. I could have explained better that we’re going to just apologise — no drinking and no singing—”

“And it’s in the past,” you cut him off. “And that’s okay. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m really sorry for not trusting you,” Jimin sighs. “I thought they had really sung a few blocks away, but you still did not like it and drove them away.”

You shake your head. “Even though I hate their carolling so much, I would have tolerated it if they were singing a few blocks away. But they still sang in front of my store and that angers me.”

“I wouldn’t take your words lightly, Y/N.”

“I sure hope not,” you snort, but then a grin appears on your face. A genuine smile appears on Jimin’s face in return as he extends his hand. And you shake it with yours, finally making up.

Returning to Hoseok’s side, you both wander around the market and you take in the festivity of it all.

“Oh! Look at those skewers!” Hoseok points out in excitement. “Wanna go try it?”

You nod at him. “I’ll go wherever you want to go. I’ve never been to any of the winter markets.”

“Alright,” he answers giddily, taking your arm to loop around his own. “Don’t want you to get lost now.” Chuckling at that, he leads you towards the first food stall of the day.

People are smiling, laughing, and enjoying themselves and for once it does not bring as much bitterness as before. It’s been quite some time since you are able to feel this way without holding back. But you’re certain you’ll move on, little by little.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

“That was really fun,” you laugh, walking back to your bookstore with Hoseok still glued on your side. Despite not being in a crowded place any longer, he refuses to let go of you.

“I’m glad you had fun,” he muses. “We should do this more often.”

“Hanging out in markets, trying out various kinds of food together?”

“Well, if you consider it a date,” Hoseok says as you reach your store.

“Are you asking me out, Jung Hoseok?” You fish out the keys, unlocking the door.

“You remember my whole name?” He teases.

You shoot him a playful glare, stepping inside. “I mean, I have a sharp memory when it comes to relevant people in my—” You stop, gaping at the sudden colourful hues of orchids and dahlias decorating the broken jukebox. “I… What—”

Hoseok watches you stride towards the jukebox, observing the flowers intently with your glassy gaze while he takes off his gloves. At that moment, you seem like a child finding a surprise gift from Santa. And if Hoseok could, he would like to keep this moment into his memory forever.

When you finally turn to him, you ask, “D-Did you do this?”

He nods. “It’s fake though, since we don’t want them to wilt and—” You lunge forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as he nearly drops the bouquet you had given him earlier. Setting it down on the cashier counter, he wraps his arms around you as well in a tight hug with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

“It’s still beautiful, Hobi…” you murmur, breathing in his scent. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“I hope it would bring comfort to you, Y/N…”

Pulling away — still in his arms — you meet his gaze and blurt out, “Gosh, I swear I think I can kiss you right now.” The pair of you stiffen as heat rushes to your cheeks. “I-I mean—”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” he says, cupping your cheek. Leaning down to close the distance between you. You scan through his eyes for any signs of hesitance and when you find none, you close the remaining distance, meeting his lips with yours.

Everything happens so fast, but Hoseok is the only clarity at this moment as his hand on your waist moves up to cup your other cheek to deepen the kiss.

“Hobi...” You breathe out as he backs you against one of your shelves. “Hoseok—”

“Y/N...” he murmurs, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb as he looks into your eyes, gaze half-lidded. “Do you know what blue irises mean?”

You blink, still processing his question. “Hope… And faith?”

He chuckles, tucking your hair behind your ear. “It also means deep feelings when gifted to someone.”

Gaping, you stare up at his face.

“Is that how you feel? Towards me?”

You nod slowly.

He kisses your forehead softly and your eyes flutter shut. Interlacing your fingers together, he leans his forehead on yours while he whispers, “I feel the same way. I have feelings for you, Y/N.” He then mumbles, “I really, really like you, Y/N.”

“I really, really like you too, Hobi.” You meet his lips again. He smiles into the kiss.

When you both pull away to catch your breaths, you bury your face on the crook of his neck. “Thank you. Thank you for giving me a chance.”

And he kisses your temple, holding you tighter in his arms.

After punishing yourself over the loss of your parents, you had never given yourself a chance to move on. But you have known for quite some time that some part of you longed for a change. That is why you admire the Grinch who has a change of heart towards Christmas. Now with Hoseok by your side, you realise that you can move on as he encourages you to finally take a step forward. And for once you look hopefully to a happier future.

author’s note: honestly, i nearly turned this into a drabble series, but well, my writings are either too long or too short theres no in between so, oneshot it is sjdksjkfsd i hope you guys enjoyed it and as always, feedbacks are always appreciated !! if you’re interested in jimin’s story, you can find it here! thank you for reading 💕

405 notes · View notes

nonstoplover · 4 years ago

Text

all that i need ~ fred weasley

summary: when the Weasley twins prank the possibly shiest girl of Hogwarts, what they don't expect at all is her performing a similarly playful, mischievous and very much impressive revenge on them, but oh boy, what a pleasant consequence it leads to.

pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw (female) reader

words: 5.2K

meaning of:

• (y/h/l) means 'your hair length'

• (y/e/c) means 'your eye colour'

a/n: this is written for @weasleydream 's 500 writing challenge (you deserve it all, love xx), and it's my first ever Harry Potter themed piece of writing! i'm nervous oh lord. also this has officially become the longest imagine i have ever written!

the prompt: "And the truth is, baby, you're all that I need." - Bon Jovi

(kinda) warnings: i have no clue if hairdye is a thing in the wizarding world or not, or even if the twins would do such a childish prank, but i couldn't think of a better idea, so sorry it'll have to do xxx i hope you still enjoy though

my masterlist

Ever since they woke up, Fred and George spent their time trying to decide who should fall victim to their next prank. Who would give them the best reaction?

They eat their breakfast in silence, only occasional names spoken out loud fill the air every other minute when someone new pops in their heads. But somehow nobody seems fitting, which makes the level of frustration grow swiftly in their bodies.

Knowing they have a class to attend, a couple minutes later the two of them move simultaneously to follow the crowd out of the Great Hall, an unusual moody seriousness displaying on their faces.

Just as Fred goes to step through the door and turn to the needed corridor, something bumps into his body, so hard that it makes him stumble back into his twin brother. The air that's been knocked out of his lungs leaves him in a gasp as his eyes try to focus on the sight in front of him, anger rising inside him, slowly clouding his mind.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, he recognises the person kneeling in front of him, gathering her things with hurried movements, and all his previous thoughts leave his mind, letting a new one appear and take all the space in there.

The smirk slowly but surely makes its way onto his face as (y/n) stands back up, her face flushed red. Her hair is a mess, her blue and bronze scarf is almost falling down, seemingly she threw it around her neck in a total hurry. She clutches a couple books to her chest, her (y/e/c) eyes glued to her shoes as her fingers drum a fast rhythm on the bottom book's hardcover case.

"Sorry," she mumbles so quiet it's almost inaudible, then she moves past Fred and disappears in the Great Hall.

Fred glances to the side, seeing the exact same thought that fills his mind written on George's face. They finally know who their next victim is gonna be.

(y/n) slumps down on the bench beside the Ravenclaw table and hides her still burning cheeks in her palms. As if it hasn't already been a misfortunate, bad day. She woke up late due to staying up reading half the night before and so she had to rush through the castle to be able to grab some breakfast before her first class starts. On her way down she first stepped on a loose shoelace, sending her flying down the rest of the staircase, then to top it all, she embarrassed herself running straight into none other than Fred Weasley on the corridor - so close to her final destination - , falling to the ground hard enough for it to probably leave bruises on her body and throwing her books all across the air.

Fred Weasley. The boy she has the most ridiculous crush on. She has always been a dreamy person, all the books she's read has raised the bar high when it comes to boys, but it seems like Fred is able to go higher than that, at least in her eyes. It doesn't even matter that she doesn't know him that well. Hell, she's not even sure he even knows her name.

Still, what she feels whenever Fred's around is the strangest thing ever, even to her - a person who's had multiple huge crushes already in her life. Her cheeks flush bright pink whenever she thinks about him. She's always admired the flaming red locks of his hair, the tallness of his figure, the mischievous glint that endlessly sparkles in his eyes, the seemingly all the time present smile or grin on his face, and all the brilliant ideas he and his twin brother come up with for their pranks.

She's been feeling this way ever since the Christmas break of their first year. Which means she's crushing on him for years now. And it's absolutely ridiculous, really. She knows he's way out of her league. He's one of the most popular boys in Hogwarts, many girls swoon whenever they look at him. And she'll never talk with him, not as long as it's her concern. She's too shy to be able to open her mouth in his presence - not that she talks so much otherwise. And it's possible that he didn't even know the fact she exists. At least before she flew straight into him.

Of all the people she could've bumped into, it had to be Fred Weasley. Oh, no.

As she shovels some food in her mouth, she makes a mental promise to never stay up late reading again. Then she gathers her things back up in her arms and with a sigh escaping her lungs starts running again, hoping not to arrive (too) late to class.

That afternoon the two redheaded Weasley boys sit in the Gryffindor common room, gathering all their knowledge about the girl that ran into Fred earlier so they can start planning the perfect way to carry out the prank.

What they have is not much, but still enough for them to come up with The Plan in less than an hour.

(y/n) is the most introverted and shy person the twins have ever seen. She rarely talks with anyone, not even from Ravenclaw, her own house, and when she does, her voice is shaky and quiet, her sentences short and swiftly spoken.

She's in the same year as the two of them, which means that they've often seen her in classes, but barely in other situations. She never attends Quidditch matches or other social happenings, barely goes to Hogsmeads, and whenever they happen to accidentally cross ways with her, she's huddled up in a corner or on a windowsill in a more hidden and secluded corridor of the castle, eyes glued to the pages of the book in her hands, her mind seemingly far away, travelling to whatever world she's reading about.

A couple days have passed since the girl bumped into Fred and now the two boys are waiting in their hiding spot for her to walk past them. They previously mapped out her usual routes to make sure she'll walk the way they want her to and now it's only a matter of time when their prank will finally be fulfilled.

It doesn't take long until her figure appears at the end of the corridor, growing bigger and bigger with every step. Fred holds back his breath, already imagining how hilarious her reaction will probably be as a wordless countdown starts in his head, the rhythm of it adjusting to the speed of her steps.

And 3, 2, 1...

It takes a second or two for (y/n) to regain consciousness and she blinks once or twice, trying to remember what happened. She tries to focus again, meanwhile her hands tap their surroundings, feeling the cold stone laying under her touch and she comes to the sudden realisation that she's laying on the ground. As her fingers move further from her body, they touch something gooey and she flinches from the slightly disgusting feeling.

She fainted. That's the only thing she knows for sure. But why? What happened? She rarely faints, and when she does, the cause has to be something big and serious.

When her eyes are finally able to focus again, she sees two heads framed with ginger hair leaning down from above her, concerned expressions on both their faces.

(y/n) pushes herself up on her elbows, looking around and all of a sudden a new wave of realisation hits her. The Weasley twins pranked her. She became victim to one of their (sometimes slightly vicious) jokes. Seeing all the gaping mouths and wide eyes belonging to dozens of students standing in the background, she wonders what the prank might have been.

Her eyes take in the green, thick liquid she's laying in the middle of, and just as she's about to ask them what on Merlin's beard is that, she feels a drop land on her collarbone, right where her robe has fallen to the side to expose her skin.

Reaching up with her fingers she gathers it up so she could take a look at it. When her eyes take in the tips of her fingers now hovering in front of her face, she finds the exact same liquid colouring her skin.

Did that drop come from her hair?

Slowly she cards her fingers through her hair, finding it wet and clammy. It indeed came from her hair. She moves her glance back up at the Weasley twins, and just as their eyes connect and Fred opens his mouth to say something - even he himself doesn't know what he wants to say, probably a simple sorry or how are you -, suddenly loud laughter bubbles from her lungs.

The loud noise fills the otherwise completely silent corridor and as she doubles over in laughter, the two boys squatting on each side of her laying body share a confused look.

Fred is sure he's never been more shocked than in that very moment as he watches the girl covered in emerald green hairdye laugh endlessly. He expected her to jump and squeal frightened, to cry and shout angry profanities at him (or more likely them), to run away embarrassedly. But now she's sitting in front of him in a puddle of enchanted hairdye, laughing so hard she has to clutch her sides.

The thoughts seemingly froze in his mind, he can't understand what has just happened. She seemed like the typical girl who wouldn't appreciate a joke like this, but now seeing the exact opposite, Fred suddenly doubts everything he's ever thought.

He sees George slowly stand back up to his feet and after a moment he feels a nudge against his shoulders coming from his brother's knees. He follows George's movements and stands up, but his mind still seems unable to work.

(y/n)'s laughter slowly fades back into a slight giggling and she watches the twins disappear behind a corner with an amused glint in her eyes. Still quietly enjoying herself she gathers her bag and stands up, glancing at the way the liquid drips from her clothes and hair. She takes a deep breath, grabs the edges of her robe and lifts them, then swiftly jogs down the corridor to get to her dorm without leaving too much of a green mess behind her.

Then he shakes his head and moves down the corridor, his twin mirroring him effortlessly as if they were the exact same person just twice. Glancing around the students still lounging there he sees a similar surprise displayed on all of their faces and out of nowhere he feels the blood rush to his cheeks, probably painting his skin in a colour similar to his hair.

Five days have passed and the twins are still not able to comprehend the reaction they never expected but still witnessed. Though proudness doesn't fail to sweep in their veins whenever they catch a glimpse of the bright emerald green in the crowd of students, casting a smirking glance at each other every time.

The first thing (y/n) did arriving back to her dorm was rushing in the shower, trying to wash the paint out from her hair even though she was a hundred percent sure the hairdye was enchanted. She was right. When she got out of the shower and dried her hair, she let out a sigh and turned towards the mirror, expecting to see a ridiculous version of herself.

What surprised her almost even more than the prank itself was how she actually liked the image she saw in the reflection. She liked the way the green complemented her skin, the way it looked great with the Ravenclaw colours, the way it was something different, and the colour itself was gorgeous in her eyes. And as she was looking at her own reflection, she felt a new, unfamiliar emotion appear inside of her. Confidence. The green hair made her feel badass.

Nevertheless, for the next day or two she was endlessly thinking about a way to get revenge, just for the fun of it. To show the twins that they're not the only one who can prank innocent and clueless students.

Now on the fifth day of being green haired she gets up early on purpose to be one of the firsts at the Great Hall, wanting to see if the revenge she carried out the day before has any visible consequence. Her eyes stay glued to the door as she chews on a toast mindlessly, waiting for the two identical tall boys appear, and she doesn't have to wait too long before amongst a small group of Gryffindors they enter the Great Hall, the sight almost immediately making (y/n)'s lips curve into a proud and mysterious smirk.

When Fred wakes up and gets changed, he notices nothing extraordinary. Everything is the same, the morning starts just like every single day in Hogwarts has ever started. Though only a couple minutes later as he waits for George and Lee in the common room to finally be able to go down to have breakfast, he starts feeling something weird on his skin.

Whenever he moves and his sweater and jeans move against him, even if only the slightest bit, he feels itchy. He swiftly makes his way back to his dorm to get changed, a frown sitting on his forehead as he tries to figure out what causes the invisible irritation.

George glances at him with a curious look in his eyes, watching as his brother swiftly pulls the materials off his body and grabs a new set of clothes to get into. As soon as he's ready, Fred starts pacing up and down the room, moving his arms and legs in a funny way, occasionally stopping for a moment or two.

By now both Lee and George stand in the doorway, biting back laughter as they watch the hilarious scene unfold in front of their eyes.

"What's gotten into you?"

Fred comes to yet another halt and glances at his brother upon hearing his voice.

"I don't know, something's weird with my clothes," he mutters, both hands raising to scratch his body furiously.

His brother raises an amused eyebrow, sharing a confused but entertained look with the third friend before shrugging and turning around.

"We're going down, join us when you're ready," George announces, then jogs down the stairs, Lee following suit.

The left alone redhead sends a frustrated look their way just as his stomach lets out a hungry growl. Fred looks down letting out a sigh, then he shrugs and makes his way after his best friends, swiftly catching up with the now bigger group - a couple girls from their year and Ginny with her friends joining them in the common room.

Fred keeps rubbing his fingers against his body, the itchiness slowly being unbearable. And sometimes it feels like it just gets worse and worse the more he scratches.

(y/n) ducks her head to hide the erupting giggle, but keeps glancing back again and again to see the result. Fred's constant fidgeting fills her with a new kind of joy and pride, and fearing that her contribution to his problem might be too obvious if the redhead's moving eyes accidentally found her, she stands up and with her glance cast to the ground hurries out of the Great Hall, thanking Merlin for it to be Saturday so she can hide somewhere without the risk of having a class together with Fred where she could easily expose herself.

From the corner of his eyes, Fred notices a flash of green but by the time his head instinctively turns towards the source that piqued his ever observing interest, it - or more like she, as Fred's a hundred percent sure the greenness had to be the dyed hair he caused - has disappeared. Though a moment later he doesn't even remember the event as the itchiness starts again and his mind goes back to trying to figure out a solution to the problem he's facing.

When he finishes breakfast - faster than he usually does - he jumps up from his seat and without another word, disappears from the Great Hall before his twin could even process his hurried leaving. He gets back to his dorm in no time, and immediately falls to his knees as his hands reach out for the clothes he has changed out of not long ago, eyes focusing on even the smallest details of them to find something.

It only takes a couple minutes before something out of place catches his eyes. Triumphantly he pinches the small string between two of his fingers, raising it high up in the air so the light would fall on it better. He examines it for one or two seconds, and it's enough for him to come to a conclusion, which is that it is indeed a piece of hair, and that its colour is very much green. Bright, emerald green. The one colour his eyes have grown so used to in the past few days that he would recognise it whenever and wherever.

His arms lower on their own, his eyes staring at but not seeing the bed in front of him as the small voice in his head keeps repeating a single word. A name.

(y/n).

An amused grin leisurely makes its way onto his face, eyes sparkling with an impressed happiness. He never expected the shy and extremely introverted bookworm girl to laugh loudly after falling victim to a prank by the Weasley twins, so he has already been taken aback by her reaction. But if there's one thing he would never ever have considered an option, one thing he truly never ever expected is her to prank him back.

He starts chuckling, just staring at the piece of (y/h/l) emerald hair, enjoying the unusual feeling inside his body - butterflies fluttering around his belly, his heart beating so fast he's sure his chest would burst, and the laugh that seems to fill even his veins up.

For a few minutes he just kneels there on the ground, basking in his mixture of emotions, then when he eventually gets over the initial shock (y/n) caused him, without another thought he springs up to his feet and dashes out of the dorm, out of the Gryffindor common room, down multiple corridors.

Since he's payed so much attention to the girl in the past days, he knows all the possible places she can be at and it only takes three tries for him to finally catch sight of her, sitting in a more secluded corner of the library, not at all surprisingly reading a book.

Fred slows down, letting his fastened heartbeat get back to normal as he approaches her, a small smile still stuck on his face.

"Hey," he speaks softly after stopping next to her.

(y/n)'s head snaps up so fast Fred fears it might break but as soon as his eyes connect with her bright and widely open (y/e/c) ones, all his thoughts get erased from his mind.

How come I never noticed how beautiful her eyes are? - Well, maybe 'cause she hides them with her constant reading and the way she never locks eyes with anyone, Fred thinks, not being able to form any more coherent thought than these.

His eyes drown in hers before making their way further, looking at every detail of her face. He has looked at this emerald green hair so many times in the past couple days and still, he never noticed how amazing it looked on the girl. Now he sees that she easily owns this hair colour, looking absolutely breathtaking as she glances up at his tall figure from her sitting position.

Several long seconds later he realises that he hasn't spoken a single word and that he seemingly fell into some trance so he quickly shakes his head, trying to get his usual thoughts back in there.

"Do you still have some from that itchy powder thingy? I'd like to buy it, I feel like it would be nice for a new prank," he smirks at her and what already seemed impossible for him happens: the girl's eyes widen even more.

(y/n) gulps, the thoughts - opposite to Fred's previous situation - swirling with extreme rapidness inside her head. How could he find out it was her so fast? She was so careful for it not to be obvious.

She already knew Fred is way more clever than what people usually give him credit for, but he's seemingly able to overachieve even her high expectations - and to do it so effortlessly.

"I-I... sorry, the what?" She manages to mumble in the end.

His lips curve into a knowing grin and his eyes start twinkling in a playful, entertained way.

"The thing that makes stuff itchy," Fred explains with a look that says 'we both know what I'm talking about but I still enjoy this little game you're playing'.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm sorry," (y/n) answers after a - hopefully not visible - gulp, and she feels proud at herself for keeping her voice steady and her face serious.

Though the next moment two things happen that shatter everything she's carefully built in the past minute or so to the ground. One, with an absentminded hand Fred reaches up to scratch swiftly at the side of his torso and as (y/n)'s eyes insinctively follow his movement, she's suddenly unable to hide the joyful look in her eyes and the quivering of her lips as she bites into her bottom lip to prevent herself from giggling. Two, with his other hand - now very much on purpose - Fred holds up something into the air between them, right in front of the girl's eyes, and at the exact same moment her teeth sink into her lip, her eyes focus on the piece of hair dangling from in-between the ginger boy's fingers.

Her own hand subconsciously reach up to touch her own hair tuck behind her ears as her jaw falls slack and lips open to form a smaller gap in the shape of a squashed version of the letter O.

"Are you sure?" Fred's confident and amused voice brings her back to reality and as she tears her eyes away from his fingers and back to his eyes, she all of a sudden has no clue what to say.

A second passes or two as her mind slowly starts working again and she lets out a sigh, feeling the heat appear in her cheeks as the rising blush colours her skin pink.

"I thought I did a good job," she mumbles to herself, slightly disappointed in herself.

Fred moves to sit down on the chair next to her beside the table, his playful grin softening back into a tender smile. "Well, love, if you ask me, I think you did quite a spectacular job with this."

Her eyes shoot back up into his as he drops the green piece of evidence onto the ground with a small movement of his fingers. Her heart first skipped a beat when she heard the nickname he used, then skips for the second time when she realises how close the two of them are as she raises her head, then for the third time when their eyes lock again and she sees the instensity in his kind, brown orbs that seems to make her drown then and there.

Her eyes move across his face, then flicker down to his lips for the shortest moment for her to be able to memorise all the details of him, the arrangement of his freckles, the way his eyes sparkle, the way that lovely, heartwarming smile splits his face in two - just in order to let her dream (and daydream) about him more precisely in the future.

Everything seems to disappear around her and time slows down, making each second feel like an hour and she basks in the feeling of being under his intense gaze - something that has only happened in her dreams before.

Unable to take it all in and equally unable to stop herself, she glances back to his lips for another moment, just in time to see the tip of his tongue appearing to lick his lips and she can't help but gulp.

Fred's lips curve into a smirk yet again, watching her reaction of being so close to him and feeling it boost his confidence - not that he actually needed that so bad, but it still feels good - and the newly appearing cockiness makes (y/n)'s eyes dart back up to his eyes. And just like that she suddenly has no clue where she is and why is she there in the first place, she even forgets to breathe under his look.

And even Fred has to admit that being only inches away from the girl made something turn inside him and out of nowhere he feels the same symptoms as she does - only significantly less powerful. He feels his breath hitch and he feels the whole world around them fade away. His thoughts slow down and he has to force himself to remember back to why he has come to the library in the first place. Quite painfully but he's eventually able to think about the girl's enchanting presence and he focuses on what he has wanted to say again.

"I'm actually pretty impressed by your prank," he admits and feels lightheaded by the way she blushes even more and how the small, shy smile makes its way onto her lips.

"Thank you," she breathes out. The next moment she closes her eyes for a second, simply letting herself fully enjoy the feeling of being this unbelievably close to the boy for the last time, and then before her heart would take over her rational thoughts once more, she slightly leans back, moving further from the boy - trying to break away from his intoxicating atmosphere.

Fred can't help but feel a tiny bit disappointed by the sudden distance between them and that it was the girl to pull away, but he swiftly gathers his thoughts back to more relevant ones.

"Though I have to ask, why me? Why not George or the both of us?" He asks, a curious look appearing in his eyes under (y/n)'s watching ones.

"I didn't have much time and I guess your bed was the closer one to the door," she shrugs and Fred lets out yet another chuckle, slightly throwing his head back in entertainment, mental images of her sneaking in his dorm filling his mind.

Oh, how happy he is for having that very bed.

He starts wondering how she was able to sneak into the Gryffindor common room in the first place. It must've been difficult. And she couldn't have known if there was anyone in there who could've seen her. Yet still she managed to get in there and what is more, up to his dorm room, to carry out her prank. Suddenly it seems even more impressive and Fred's heartbeat fastens again in a way it never did before.

His thoughts move further, desperately trying to find a way to keep this extremely talented prankster in his life before the simplest idea pops in his head.

He swiftly straightens his back, eyes lighting up in excitement, his movements so sudden that it scares (y/n), making her jump in her seat. "You know, I had an idea just right now."

The girl waits patiently for him to continue, her heart pounding fast and loud in her chest, making her think that he must hear it by how incredibly loud it seems inside her head.

"You should join us."

Confusion makes her frown as she tries to makes sense of his words, because even though they're simple and there's only four of them, for her mind it seems like she has heard the longest and most acutely phrased sentence.

"Join?"

"Yeah, me and George. With pranks."

"Pranks? Me? Why?" (y/n) can't help but feel utterly dumb for asking so many questions but she just can't help herself. In her mind, the Weasley boy's words make absolutely no sense.

"I think we need a new perspective, the new ideas you can provide, and the professionality you seemingly make pranks happen with," Fred speaks as if he's just had the discovery of the century, eyes wide with joy and excitement. "At least I clearly do, beside you I feel like I can just hide away."

"That's not true," (y/n) shakes her head in disapproval. "You're way better than I am."

"Let's just settle on more experienced, alright?" The ginger boy smiles at her, not wanting to get in an argument when seemingly they represented the two opposing sides in this question.

She's just too shy to admit how incredible she is.

"If nothing else, you can just give us new ideas and we'll do them on our own. Come on, it'll be fun!" The small voice in Fred's mind tells him that his desperate attempt to convince her is totally unlike him and is absolutely ridiculous, he can't stop it. He knows that if he left without making her agree, he'd regret it for the rest of his life. So with a softening voice, he adds one more - probably embarrassing - thing. "I need the new perspective you'd bring."

The frown is still clear on (y/n)'s forehead even though inside she's already bursting with happiness. She has never expected to hear such words from none other than Fred Weasley himself.

She takes a few deep breaths to try and collect her thoughts and words when suddenly, she feels a previously never felt, enormous wave of confidence fill her veins.

"I thought the prank master himself, Fred Weasley doesn't need anyone," she quirks an eyebrow, her lips curving into a wide, playful and absolutely mischievous grin similar to his - especially after hearing her complementing words, his own widens even more, face seeming to actually split in two.

His heart beats rapidly in his throat as he lightly places a palm on top of her hand that rests on the table, and he looks deep in her eyes, voice turning completely serious. "The truth is, love, you're all that I need."

And just as her eyes widen once more, he leans in to press the softest, shortest kiss on her lips, heart bursting with a newly found feeling as he feels her melt under his touch and respond to his action.

Out of nowhere he feels a hundred percent sure that his life has just become fully complete and that from now on, it's gonna be an even more amazing ride with this incredible girl by his side.

.::the end::.

my masterlist

172 notes · View notes

charkyzombicorn · 3 years ago

Text

Okay thought up a quirk and a villain motivation so I'm gonna put it on Izuku because reasons.

The quirk is called Picture Perfect

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️

Whoever Izuku takes a picture of (physical picture, digital doesn't count) is frozen, disappearing from the real world and only existing in that photo. Izuku doesn't discover his quirk until he's about 14, he was given the diagnosis of quirkless and no one uses polaroids anymore so it wasn't exactly easy to catch. Since he was 'quirkless' for a whole decade, his dad left and him mom had to work two jobs to support them both and he started coming home beaten bloody by his classmates and after ten years Izumi Midoriya is always tired. She rarely looked happy anymore, and Izuku couldn't help because the whole world seemed to be crushing her. And when Izuku is 14, he decides to get a polaroid so that he can start putting more than just his idol on his wall.

It's his mom's birthday, he made her her favorite dessert and picked up some shifts at the library so she wouldn't have to work that day. She was smiling the brightest smile he'd seen in years and he used his polaroid for the first time to take a picture of his mother. So he was terrified at first when he realised he'd accidentally trapped her, deducing that it was his quirk and that he could let her out if he tried. He almost did, but then he saw the smile on her face, frozen, happy. He put her picture down on the table and left, going outside and testing his quirk on a few strays to make sure he could absolutely get his mom back without hurting her. He went back home an hour later and he realised something.

She was frozen, happy, she didn't have to worry about anything in there, the world wasn't crushing her, she was safe. Keeping people safe and happy is what heroes did, wasn't it?

He carefully used double-sided tape to fasten the picture to the wall without tampering with the ink. That's what he was doing, he was protecting her from all the harsh things even pro heroes couldn't protect people from.

He didn't tell anyone, if he did, they would make her go back to working herself to death, they would take smile off her face. He wouldn't let that happen. He stopped going to school, he left his house with only a few pairs of clothes, some money, and his mother safely stashed away pressed in a hardcover cookbook. He had to give up the idea of UA, but that was okay, because he was gonna be a hero to protect people for all the harshness of the world instead of just villains.

He thought it was selfish that he had the power to freeze people in bliss and only gave his mother said freedom, so he marched up to the first homeless man he saw and explained his quirk, offered the man a trouble-free existence.

To his surprise, the man seemed horrified at the idea. He said he would keep his life and the hardships that came with it, and sped away as if Izuku were crazy. Izuku didn't offer anyone else, wandering around the red light district looking for a cheap hotel to stay the night. He ended up accidentally going in circles and it was starting to get dark when he came across an alleyway, and some part of his gut urged him toward it.

Eventually his steps became wet and he looked down, in the dim light he could barely see a figure to he turned on the flashlight on his phone. He threw up a second later. There in the middle of the alley was the corpse of that same homeless man, mangled and broken and not breathing. If he had just listened to Izuku this never would have happened, he would have been happy and alive and as well as his mother. He ran away, tears clouding his vision because he couldn't protect this one.

Next time, he didn't ask. Instead, he offered the homeless woman a sandwich and talked to her. It seemed she didn't get that sort of kindness often because she brightened at the wide-eyed little boy she met. They chatted and laughed and it was one of the best days the woman had had in months of misfortune. He decided to capture her, which he thought sounded much worse than it was. He whipped out his camera and told a lie about taking pictures of people he helped in the community for a school project and she obliged happily. He put her picture in the cookbook for safe keeping.

He kept doing this, for every down-on-their-luck person he came across, he was reported a missing person along with his mother so he started dying his hair and wearing a medical mask, purely to keep all his pictures safe and happy.

But then the news started getting on with all the missing persons, and he was labeled a villain. He knew why, the general public don't know how happy they can be, forever. He was given the name Broke Bandit, which was a rather dumb name, but a bit fitting considering he mostly took pictures of people who were down on their luck money wise. He started being more careful, only making people happy when they were alone because he'd already done too much good to give it all up now. He was helping people, no matter how much the public wanted to twist his motives. He took odd jobs to keep himself fed and housed, occasionally sleeping in empty bachelor pads and borrowing money from wallets that wouldn't be needed where their owners were. The UA exams passed and his Kacchan got into UA just like he always wanted, Izuku was so happy for him. But then UA was attacked by the league of villains and that wouldn't do. How could Kacchan be happy if he wasn't safe at his own dream school?

He did research, but that wasn't enough. He started taking up different kinds of odd jobs. People traded people for information, a few questionable individuals but if they were consorting with these types the people he captured must have been bad types. He gave away the photographs with minimal questioning, not releasing them from their pictures though. Even if these people wanted to kill the people he captured for them, he wouldn't let them hurt. That wasn't was heroes did.

He found the LOV base too late, Kacchan was kidnapped by those bastards and that wouldn't do. He made his way there as quickly as possible, he picked up a few tricks capturing people before they could see him, and he got into the base with a bit of struggle. He positioned himself right behind the chair they had crudely strapped Kacchan to, and got his camera ready.

He took a picture of everyone in the room from just above Kacchan's head so he wouldn't be captured too, and every villain disappeared into the tiny piece of paper.

He walked into view of his former bully, waving the picture casually as if he weren't internally bouncing off the walls with excitement to see his oldest and only friend. But before he did, he had business to take care of.

He held up the picture, showing the final moment of the LOV. "They're all in here, trapped until I let them out." He said evenly, before gently opening the blond's palm and placing the picture there before closing the fist, hearing the paper curl and crinkle. "Destroy it." He said, staring down at his friend with a mad glint in his eye.

Red eyes went wide, his jaw clenched before he started hurling insults like they were still five and he was having a tantrum. "What the fuck?! No! Why should I believe you?! Fucking asshole! I'll kill you! Why would I kill them I ain't a damn MONSTER!!" He struggled harshly against his restraints, accidentally making his palms sweat more.

No, Izuku couldn't get rid of the LOV, the credit would go to an unknown mask instead of Kacchan, and Kacchan wanted to be number one. Taking down a whole villain organisation that even got past All Might would surely help Katsuki more than him. He sighed, and decided once again, since people refused to see the bigger picture, he'd give it to them free of charge whether they liked it or not. He hooked a finger under his mask, and pulled it down. He smiled kindly at his friend, who suddenly looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Then all the rage that had been collecting over all those months since Deku had disappeared made him slip. He lost control and reflexively made an explosion big enough to decintigrate the tiny photo.

Ash fell through the teen's fingers as he realised he had just killed people. He struggled against his restraints more harshly, hissing and spitting barely comprehensible threats.

Izuku's work was done, so he tugged his mask back up before putting a finger over his covered mouth. Katsuki froze. "Don't tell anyone I was here, then you won't get all the credit for such an amazing feat, ne?" And he left.

Katsuki told. And Izuku had never felt more betrayed when he saw his face on the news of the cheap motel TV talking about all his heroism as if he were evil. He cried.

He needed advice, but he had no one. So after a lot of debate, he got out his mother's picture, still smiling in front of her birthday cake as she was when he'd taken her. He released her.

She stumbled backwards, losing all the colour in her face and falling as if she hadn't used her legs in months, her puples like pinpricks. She looked up at Izuku and everything she emitted was fear, not tainted with relief or happiness at all. Izuku didn't understand.

He tried to explain what happened, but she didn't say a word, she kept crawling away from him feebly as if he were everything bad in one small package. "Y-Y-You're a murderer." She said, and Izuku would have revelled in hearing his mothers voice again after so long were it not for the words.

"What?"

"I was there, I couldn't move, you let people die, you killed people, you trapped people." Her voice got more steady as she got more angry but it barely covered a portion of her skin-bleaching fear. Izuku blinked at his mother.

"I-I was just trying to help--" his words made her flinsh as if she didn't know he was her son.

Suddenly anger flooded the teenage boy. "I gave up UA to try to keep you happy, I gave up my name to protect people from killing themselves with all the hardships of this world! I gave my life to keep bad people off the streets and to keep people happy!! I lost everything, and now you won't even look your own son in the eyes?!" He hated this, he gave everything and she was looking at him like this. Angry tears flowed down his cheeks as he harshly grabbed the polaroid still hanging from his neck, and his mother scrambled to try to stop him even though all she could do with the lack of practice moving was crawl.

His next picture of her wasn't happy. She was pale, crying, pathetic, reaching for the camera with wide eyes that held nothing but fear for her only son. He crumpled up the paper into a crude ball, stomping out to the hotel parking lot and burning her picture on the concrete, followed by everyone else he kept safe in his cookbook.

If everyone insisted he was a murderer, if he was going to be punished as a murderer no matter what he did, he might as well be guilty.

#bnha #its a bit long but hey #villain deku #and a bit of #bakudeku #if you squint

28 notes · View notes

robotslenderman · 3 years ago

Note

Idea: Stasya decides to prank Evie as revenge for all the pranks she's pulled. What's her plan and how does it go?

First she consults with Sullivan:

Nastasya: So hey, Evie was a kid when she was Embraced, yeah?

Sullivan: *Looks at Stasya like she's an idiot*

Nastasya: Does she still CONSIDER herself a kid?

Sullivan: When it serves her, yeah. She likes to lull people into a false sense of security with her "I am baby" act.

Sullivan: Seriously though, she had a rough childhood and I think rather than being upset she'll never get older, she's happy to have a second one she'll never leave. A lot of people Embraced at that age are close enough that they consider themselves adults after a while but I don't think that's the case with Evie. So let's assume yes. Why?

Nastasya: I was just wondering if it would be inappropriate to drop her into a pit of dicks, that's all. I want to get my own back and my pranks tend to be en-ess-eff-doubleyoo.

Sullivan: My gut tells me she'd think it was funny, but I tend to get the sense with Evie that it's better to play it safe. Especially if the dicks are squirming. Like they tend to be when you're involved.

Nastasya: o7 Got it.

So I KNOW this question meant Evie, but this turned into a prank on Beckett put on as a show for Evie (both figuratively and literally). Hopefully that still counts lol. There is another prank at the bottom tho which is on both of them!

She ultimately decides to prank Evie by going for Beckett himself. She approaches everyone that Beckett's ever pissed off uh, some of the people who Beckett's ever pissed off because I don't think even Nastasya has that much free time, and goes, "hey, want to help me play a prank with Beckett?"

"What's in it for me?"

"I will do it as a favour to you."

Naturally the answer is a unanimous "fuck yes."

In Maddyverse, this takes place after BJD and therefore post-Dracon, but before Sascha and Beckett become friends. (I don't know if Sascha and Beckett ever become friends in Evieverse but I'm sure this could happen there too.) So Sascha's not talking regularly (if at all) with Stasya either, but they get wind of what's going on and offers to be bait, which Stasya gladly (if a bit warily) accepts in exchange for free access to one of her journals.

Nastasya: which journal.

Sascha: whichever one has information on *me*.

Nastasya:... not to be an embarrassing stalker on main -

Sascha: You've always BEEN a stalker on main.

Nastasya: but I've got like. Eight of those.

Sascha: ugh. I skim through all of them and choose one, then. Deal?

Nastasya: Deal.

So one night, Beckett learns that Sascha is going after a Gehenna-related artefact. Naturally, his response to that is "oh no you DON'T" and picks up the trail and races to catch up.

Once Sascha is aware Beckett is on their trail, they "accidentally" lead him to the beginning of the chain then drop back, grab the popcorn, and watch.

So Beckett ends up visiting a lot of people from Beckett's Jyhad Diaries, who are like, ohhh, you just missed it, I just found out that X is involved! and sends Beckett further down the chain. Every time Beckett appears to lose interest and chase after something else (he tends to do that in BJD), Sascha just casually dips back in to increase the sense of urgency.

But then it gets weird: it becomes apparent that Evie actually has the artefact and is slowly making her way through Beckett's contacts on some kind of misadventure. The story appears to be that Evie stole the artefact from Beckett, and is now appealing to people she knows Beckett's pissed off for help to hide from him and sharing blackmail materials along the way. The "blackmail materials" are videos of Beckett being really silly -- dancing with underwear on his head, casually filming an entire parody of a Rick Roll where he's the star, reciting memes in a cringy context, waxing lyrical about Dracula, replacing the Screaming Cowboy in that one meme, etc. The contacts all know the videos are fake, but they pretend to take them seriously and there's a few running gags of "hey, Beckett, there's a production of Dracula that'll debut in Edinburgh where I hear the actor playing Dracula is very attractive!"

(I'm sure by now Evie will have caught on to what's going on. Beckett will realise Vicissitude's involved, especially as Evie's been by his side the whole time so he knew all along it wasn't her. also because he definitely did not star in any embarrassing videos. Nastasya is hoping by this point that Evie keeps going along for the ride instead of telling Beckett what it is.)

The treasure trail leads to the final dress rehearsal of the production of Dracula that Beckett's contacts have been joking about the whole time, which is being treated as the production itself, but with a friends-and-family audience before the debut. Beckett's assured that one of the actors is a ghoul of the vampire responsible and has the artefact in their possession. They end up with two free tickets and are encouraged to watch the show and wait to investigate until after the play is concluded. Beckett, naturally, would rather spend this time backstage picking on actors but maybe Evie encourages him to watch the show first, maybe she doesn't. Either way, they'll quickly notice that the cast has been a bit genderbent -- Van Hellsing is now a woman that looks rather a bit like Evie, and Mina is now a man that looks a lot like Beckett. There is a lot of homoeroticism between Dracula and "Beckett". Like a LOT.

After they go backstage after the show they find "Evie", who makes a big deal out of "protecting the artefact" in her arms. Eventually Evie and Beckett wrangle it out of her, and she disappears.

It's a book. Specifically, it's a hardcover copy of Dracula. It's been embossed with gold leaf and rebound into a fancy leather cover, but it's definitely Dracula.

It's signed by Beckett. It has a letter inside the cover.

Dear Evie,

I wanted to get you back for all the Beckett-related pranks, but Sullivan veto'd my idea of dropping you in a pit of dicks, so I thought I'd play one on Beckett for you instead. I hope you enjoyed the show. I certainly enjoyed arranging it. The actors are stand ins - sadly the real run will have a "proper" Mina and Van Hellsing. Absolute tragedy and a waste, I say.

Oh, and, enjoy the gift. No matter what Beckett says, he absolutely signed it. I was the one who asked him to, even if he didn't recognise me at the time. I've been waiting to spring this on him for years.

Love,

Auntie Stasya

xoxoxo

PS -- They were all in it. Do remind Beckett that it's wise not to anger everyone he meets. I managed to cultivate quite a few favours just for the opportunity to fuck with Cuthbert Beckett. I hear some of the Kindred I roped into it showed up to the performance.

Nastasya probably doesn't see Evie that often - Sullivan mostly works on the west coast, though I'm sure he brings Evie whenever he needs to travel if she's not with Kara or Beckett - but she is genuinely fond of her "niece" and finds her pranks hilarious, even when they're at her own expense.

I'm sure at some point or other, when she and Beckett are on actually friendly terms, she'll play a prank on Evie herself. She and her coterie fleshcraft themselves to look like Beckett while they're in NYC, and when Beckett briefly steps out for whatever reason, a fake Beckett comes back and wanders off with Evie, first starting subtle then slowly acting more ridiculous until it's obvious it's a fake Beckett. At which point they track down the "real" Beckett (it's another fake) who gets offended at this prank... rinse and repeat until the real Beckett actually shows up (he got distracted with a fake Evie) and they're being followed around by 3-6 Becketts (depending on whether or not Ilias, Sascha and Sullivan are available/want to get involved. Possibly 7 Becketts if Rose joins in - I think having ONE Beckett who looks exactly the same as the others but obviously hiding her forehead would be hilarious - or even 8 if Evie uses her Chimerstry) all claiming they're the real one and "clearly this is a sign of Gehenna!" no this is not based on the prank the squad once played on Jan Pieterzoon at a convention.

#VTM #Evie Byrne #Cuthbert Beckett #Anastasia Normanova Vykosovichna

8 notes · View notes

thedandelion-writer · 4 years ago

Note

I’m so excited for the 600 followers event, and CONGRATULATIONS on 600! You deserve 600 more!

If I may, I’d like to request a male matchup please! For the questions:

1: Male matchup (I am female)

2: INFJ-Libra

3: I’m a little introverted, I’ve been told I’m really intelligent, but honestly it’s only book smarts. I’m VERY highly attuned to peoples emotions and can literally tell how they’re feeling all the time (it usually makes ppl freak out I’m so sorry I don’t do it willingly). I enjoy reading books, going on runs, and playing with my cats. There are some board games I like, like battleship, chess, Axis and Allies, and Trivia! I hope this helps!

4: first date has to be in a more public space, you can never truly trust anyone. Either restaurant where we can get to know each other, or taking a walk in the park. Really anywhere that’s public

5: someone I feel safe and comfortable with, maybe someone who can make me laugh, someone who’d never hurt me and would protect me. I’d try to protect them too ofc and take care of them!

6: first date kisses on the lips are a no, on the cheek maybe. Brushing hands but not outright holding haha. That’s 2nd or 3rd date material

7: yes I would! I’m a genshin characters whore!

Thank u for doing this Lynn and I hope it won’t be too much on you with all the requests! If it is just ignore this tbh! 💜😸

A/N: I'm so glad you were excited for this event because I honestly didn't know if people would be interested! Thank you for the overwhelming support on my event (and sorry to the 10+ submssions I turned down because it was past deadline). You were one of the easiest ones to decide for, once I read it through it was an instant match hehe

But without further ado, you're going with...

Xingqiu!

My reasons!

For starters, I saw you mention books and reading and immediately thought of him. Whether or not you are as into the hobby as he is, a little common ground is always a positive thing! Xingqiu is definitely a person that is able to humour you, and would never ever wish to harm you on purpose. He'd definitely work better with someone on the intelligent side, and because he sometimes hides the way he truly is to set up a facade in front of his father and brother, you acknowledging how he truly feels (so you can hopefully make him feel better) would be a pleasant thing. I also think that he'd try his best to cheer you up whenever you're done, whether it's with cheesy prose, or a fun, carefree outing or even just sitting down together to read in silence. I honestly didn't really have another match in mind for you I'm sorry! I struggled finding another possible candidate so I shall leave it at that :)

The First Date:

"Aha! Checkmate!"

You triumphantly knocked over his king piece over with your rook. "Better luck next time?"

"No way, I'm picking the game this time. Haven't you had enough fun beating me thrice in a row?" Xingqiu took a defeated sip of his drink before cleaning the table of the scattered chess pieces.

You watched his back as he returned the box to the area that had stacks of all sorts of board games free to use for the customers of this particular cafe.

Xingqiu called it a 'board game cafe' and after hearing about it, you pestered him to put down his damn book and take you there.

"It's a shame Chongyun and Xiangling couldn't make it, it'd be a lot of fun if they could play too wouldn't it?" You slipped out the new activity out of it's box, careful not to damage anything, and started setting it up.

"Truly a shame," Xingqiu said, clearing his throat. "Ah, battleship! I used to play this with my brother back in the day."

You tilted your head, unsure if he suspiscious for changing the subject too fast, or if it was merely you who was thinking too much. You mentally shrugged your shoulders. Even if the other two weren't here, spending some time with Xingqiu outside of reading quietly together was new, and quite enjoyable in it's own way anyhow.

"Ready to lose?" You taunted, making a show of cracking your knuckles.

"'Tis I, who should be asking you that milady," he switched into his formal tone and you know it's on.

Two losses and three wins later, the topic diverts and you find yourself showing him pictures of your cats and him telling you about a novel he's been working on.

"Well it's far from ready, but I will make sure you are the first to read it when it's done," he assured you before taking downing the last bit of liquid from his cup.

You do the same.

"Oh, and before I forget, I finished the book you recommended me last time! It was so good I couldn't put it down!"

Slipping the hardcover from your bag, you place it on the table to return to its owner.

"What did I tell you?" Xingqiu grinned. "Just wait until you read the third chapter of the second book, it was enough to give me goosebumps."

Chatting about it certainly made you more and more curious, so the both of you head down the street to your favourite book shop to buy your own copies of the installment.

You looked through the various titles available, but ultimately settling for just the books you came for.

After paying (in which you had a small back-and-forth because Xingqiu insisted to buy them for you, and that he did) you held clutched them close to your chest, excited to pore over the pages later.

"Thank you for this, you didn't have to..."

You looked down as you both walked, a strange, unfamiliar feeling of shyness bubbling up inside you.

"It was no big deal," Xingqiu laughed slightly, swinging his arms in a carefree manner.

"And no, you musn't pay me back. I know of all your tricks, my liege."

"Ugh you and that nickname," you huffed, rolling your eyes as he chuckled in response.

"Or, if you are really that desperate to pay me back I suppose you could. But of course, I'll take no such thing as money."

You raised an eyebrow,"uh huh? And what would that be."

Realising that he stopped walking, you looked back to wait for his response.

"Another outing--wherever you'd like to go," his usual collected expression with a dash of cheekiness was replaced with something akin to nervousness, maybe even a bit bashful.

You knew exactly what he meant but decided to tease him a little.

"Well that's easy! I'd love to go out again, maybe the others would like to see the cafe too."

At this time, your back was to him to hide a little grin that was playing on your lips.

"What I meant was! You see," you heard him clear his throat. "I wanted to go out with you again, Y/N. Without--Chongyun and Xiangling..."

"I don't mean to exclude them forever of course, what I meant was- wait, why are you laughing?"

"Oh Xingqiu," you wiped a tear from the corner of your eye, heaving in a breath. "I was just teasing~ I'd love to go out together sometimes, just us two."

"Yes, yes that would be nice my liege," a smile spread across his face, giving you a mock little bow.

"No no, please, raise your head my loyal subject," you waved your hand like royalty, which elicited giggles out of the both of you.

As you watched him walk away, a flutter in your heart was a telltale sign that you were excited to see this friendship, perhaps, bloom into something a little more.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact matchups #genshin impact headcanons #xingqiu #xingqiu x reader #xingqiu genshin impact #xingqiu genshin impact x reader #Lynn's 600

27 notes · View notes

be-the-spark-flyboy · 4 years ago

Text

Someone New

A/n: was a request but I made it a full fic since I loved the idea. Enjoy!

Pairing: Poe x reader (modern AU)

Prompt: Humming a song and having them begin to hum with you without thinking.

Word count: 1.4k-ish

Wanting: swearing, fluff

You were in the library, browsing the history aisle. Browsing wasn’t exactly the word to describe it. Browsing suggested that you were just scanning the shelves, maybe flipping through the pages of one or two books.

But no. What you were doing was using the entire aisle floor as your own desk. Three chunky hardcover books laid open on the floor as you continued searching for better reference materials.

This was the most effective method, you had concluded. The reference books were way too heavy for you to be able to move several of them at one go to a table. And there were too many of them that it would be too troublesome and not to mention time-consuming to keep running back and forth between the table and bookshelves.

So you had one of your earpiece buds hanging on its own lest you had to make a quick getaway when the librarian comes by, music blaring through the other one to compensate for the fact that you were listening through only one ear.

You were bored. After spending more than two hours going through book after book, your attention started to waiver, leaning more towards the music than your work. Maybe that was enough for the day. You started humming along with the song playing on your ear as you went through the last couple of pages.

You had no idea that there was another person in the aisle right in front of yours and would’ve remained oblivious if a voice hadn’t joined you for the chorus. The surprise of it almost startled you to a stop.

But you continue anyway, hoping that the person won’t notice that you heard them. It was adorable really. Hearing their voice humming along with you made you smile. And not to mention they sounded like a literal angel from heaven. You tried parting some books to see if you could get a look through the bookshelf, but he stood to close and all you could see was a pair of blue jeans and doc martens.

But you needed to see the man with the voice of an angel. So you followed his footsteps as he moved along his aisle trying and failing to get a glimpse of his face. God, why was he moving so much? Unfortunately, you were too preoccupied to pay much attention to the floor where you had the books spread out, and tripped over a particularly heavy one.

---

Poe was minding his own business in the library, looking through the history section for that book Rey begged him to help her get. In hindsight, it was a bad idea because he had been combing through almost the entire section for the better part of an hour and hadn’t been able to locate the book. The librarian wasn’t much help after disappearing almost ten minutes ago to check the newly returned book pile.

He shouldn’t even have agreed to help her. Rey was probably going to return the book way overdue and he’s going to be the one to pay the fine for it. It wouldn’t the first time that had happened. But he still loved her like family therefore easily succumbed to her pleas. Maybe she performed some sort of mind trick on him.

He particularly hated that section of the library. Far enough from the seating areas to be chillingly still, void of any movement. One more shelf to check and then he could finally leave, with or without the book, but at least he tried, right? And he’d check with the librarian one more time, in case she had found it.

And then he heard humming. Someone on the other side of the shelf was humming a song he recognized. A sweet voice clumsily stumbling along with the rhythm of the song. It made him smile. Maybe the corner wasn’t so bad after all.

Before he realised it, he was humming along with the mystery voice. He heard music, probably bleeding through the mystery person’s earpiece, and figured that they wouldn’t hear him. Right?

Wrong. Seconds later, a book shifted on the shelf, like someone on the other side was discreetly trying to move it. He would’ve missed it if he had been looking a little to the other side. Looked like he had gotten your attention. Were you trying to get a look at him through the shelf?

Poe casually shifted away, the smile stretching wider on his face as he hid away from your view. He could've sworn he heard you sigh in frustration before getting up to follow his movement. Looked like you were hell-bent on seeing him. And not all that discreet about it.

He wondered how long it was going to take you to give up on your efforts. He really must’ve lost his mind, toying with a random stranger like that. Maybe he was really that starved of entertainment in the short time he spent in the library. He moved again walking all the way to the other end before you could try anything, and then-

Then he heard you yelp and then a thud.

Oh shit. Did you fall?

Poe hurried over to the other side, where you were sprawled on the floor. With a bruised butt and ego, probably.

“Oh god, are you okay?” You heard angel voice behind you. Never have you ever needed the ground to swallow you more than you needed it at that moment. Your dead ancestors were probably cringing with the second-hand embarrassment if any of them were watching over you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” you scurried up onto your feet, throwing him a sheepish smile as you stood to face you. “Thanks,” And holy fuck. His voice wasn’t the only thing angelic about him. You didn’t know if you were thanking him for checking on you or gracing you with his presence.

You were cute, Poe thought. Distractingly so. Your bashful smile made the corners of his own mouth tug upwards. And so Poe let a dazzling smile lift his face.

“Oh, good,” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Poe Dameron,” Oh wow, he was introducing himself to you. And god his smile. You blinked at him a few times, too surprised to move until you finally shook of the daze and gave him your name. “You need help with that?” He asked, pointing to the floor behind you.

“What- oh,” it seemed you managed to knock down your stationeries during your fall as well. They were scattered across the floor by the books. “I guess I do,” you replied, shooting him another sheepish grin. Poe didn’t seem to mind though, bending to kneeling down to pick up the scattered items. Oh, he was nice too, great!

You collected the books to put them back in the shelf. That was enough reading for the day, you could come back the next.

You looked up as you heard a pair of footsteps approaching. The librarian was steadily matching your way, a book in her hand. And your first thought is, oh shoot did she hear the noise? Then you realize her target wasn’t you, but Poe. The man seemed to notice her arrival as he stood.

“I found the book you were looking for,” she voiced out as she held it out for him.

Poe turned to you as soon as the librarian retreated. And you felt kind of sad that he was going to leave soon. “Korean War huh?” You asked, scanning the title.

“This is actually for a friend. I’m not much of a history buff,” he chuckled.

“You’re missing out, trust me,”

“Well then,” he smiled like that again. “If you’re done here, how about we go get coffee and you can tell me about the Korean War?” Shit, shit, shit. He blindsided you with that. Was he asking you out?

“I mean, only if you want to,” He quickly added as your silence stretched, he quickly added, the smile dropping a little. Was he too quick to assume? Oh shit, what if you already had a boyfriend?

You on the other hand were stunned. Oh right. Reply him.

“I think that’s a great idea,” The smile came back, brighter than before and you found yourself thinking, fuck, I’m in trouble.

—-

The Dameron taglist (open): @writefightandflightclub @arkofblake @yougottakeeponkeepinon @multifandomlife22 @skymerons @smol-peter-parker @rae-rae-patcha @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @spider-starry @hkmultifandom @cloud-leader @elmoakepoke @staringmoony @valhallavalkyrie9 @the-cry-of-youth @liadamerondjarin @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @takemepedropascal @xremember-me-notx @softly-sad @loserbelle @littleeuphoriaelf

#poe dameron #poe x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe fluff #poe dameron au #requests #my writing

62 notes · View notes

goldeneyedgirl · 4 years ago

Text

TwiFicMas2020 Day 1: Anathema

It’s that time of year again - when I bombard you with fic I’ve written over the year and haven’t posted, whether it is an outtake, part of a WIP, or something that ended up going sideways but still had some cool bits I was proud of.

Everything will be tracked under the ‘TwiFicMas2020′ and ‘FicMas2020′ tags. Most fics are incomplete scenes - “--” is a scene break, “//” means that there’s a cut - it’s probably not yet written.

First up is Anathema, the fourth or fifth attempt at the ‘Alice works in a mortuary/funeral home’ idea that refuses to solidify itself - though I think I’m getting closer. I enjoy the idea that Charlie Swan is in on Forks’ secrets (before Jacob strips in front of him, lol) and I am always here for the supernatural world being more than just vampires and shifters.

I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!

The day the Cullens arrive in Forks, two things happen.

The first, I draw both Death, and the Wheel of Fortune. A combination that, frankly, sounds time-consuming. I lie in bed and contemplate them for awhile. The cards are soft, from lifetimes of passing from hand to hand (my dearest and most beloved Great-Aunt Jeanne passed this set to me when she died. At the time, I was too young to understand the true gift in cards that had never before been touched by Brandon hands - before mine.) The cards are illustrated so carefully, so detailed. They smell like dried lavender and the scrap of linen that I wrap them in, and there is something so reassuring about each and every card.

I draw my cards every few days before I get up. I find it calming, the shuffle of them against my fingers, as I let my dreams fade. It’s a quiet time, and one I savour.

Eventually, I do have to get up, though. No rest for the wicked. The cards go back into the wooden jewellery box some young man carved for some young woman in Jeanie’s family long before I was even a glimpse of a thought, and back into my nightstand drawer.

I - we - live on the first floor of the Brandon Funeral Home, a perfectly respectable converted Georgian house at the end of Main Street, where it sweeps around to Cedar Road. It’s a shit place to have a corner, and more than once speed racers have spun out; whoever’s scraped off the road and our front walk usually end up in the freezers in the basement.

But I digress.

Breakfast is mundane. Dulcie is there, hair in curlers, and a frown on her face when she realises I am not dressed. I sit crosslegged across two thrift-store chairs in my camisole and booty shorts, spooning jam onto toast with the precision of a good scientist and ignore her reminding me of my dressing gown (a sturdy pink-flower print flannel that is buried in my closet. My preferred robe, a thin grey kimono, is currently in my laundry pile) and ‘common decency’, as if my elderly great-uncle is looking to leer at the decided lack of anything I have up north or down south.

Dulcie is… Dulcie. No replacement for Aunt Jeanie, but a good woman. I find it funny that Uncle Freddie is an old man now, and he still reels ‘em in. Or he would if Jeanie’s death hadn’t broken, shattered, and wrecked him. Dulcie worked for us for a few years before she set her eyes on the top bedroom and changing ‘Dulcie Dunn-Stanley’ to ‘Dulcie Brandon’.

Oh, that sounds very jaded. It’s mutual, Freddie and Dulcie. Their courtship was glacial and it’s really only recently that Dulcie’s been hinting about heading to the court house. And, honestly, whatever makes Uncle Freddie happy. Dulcie’s kind to me, we mostly get along, and her attempts to mother me are so far inconsistent - but she is usually pretty respectful.

My uncle lingers over his food; he’s got a new book open at his elbow, and no one can pry my uncle away from his books. They’re usually hardcover, non-fiction. Most of the boxes stored in the third floor are my uncles books.

After breakfast, I am banished to get dressed for work, which is in the basement today, where I am to be the hands as we prepare one Lewis Fletcher for his Saturday morning funeral. There’s a sack of bagged organs resting in the chest cavity, from the autopsy (elk or deer attack, the report says), and I get to stitch Lewis back together, get to fill him full of chemicals, seal things with putty, and get to face painting. The Fletchers are a pretty ordinary family locally, and the service will be simple - they were very agreeable when Freddie met with them last week.

I put my music on and hum as I prepare my kit. It’s no secret that an unqualified teenage girl doing this work probably breaks a lot of laws, but Freddie’s hands aren’t as steady as they used to be, and he’s old enough to remember when a family business meant that the younger generation was trained by the older at home, no degrees or certifications necessary.

Sometimes I wonder what Jeanie would have thought, me working down here like this. Would she have understood? Would she have been mad or upset or disappointed?

We’ll never know.

Freddie fetches us both a cup of tea, and hovers at my shoulder as I piece together Mr Fletcher’s chest cavity.

“Smaller stitches, Alice,” Freddie says, inspecting my work carefully. “Redo that section, stitch closer together, and small stitches.”

I nod, turning around to grab a scalpel from the tray beside me to cut the wonky stitches free and start again, and I freeze as the ice-cold feeling envelopes me. No, no, no it’s been so long…

For a moment, I am unfixed in time and space. I am still in the basement, with the buzzing fluorescent lights, and smooth metal drawers and cupboards, the stink of formaldehyde. But instead of a clean, bare second table, I am lying there. But I’m not dead, and I’m not alone. It’s him. The boy - man? - I’ve been seeing for so long, in visions and dreams. He’s hovering above me, a veritable sculpture of pale flesh as he peels off his shirt, our mouths still fused together, my hands gripping his hips. I am a much less collected figure, with my tights around my knees, one shoe still on and my shirt hiked up over my bra. Vision-Me pulls away to say something, and He laughs, and it’s then the light catches his eyes. Dark gold.

Golden-eyes.

“Oh fuck,” Real-Me says, and somehow Vision-Him knows I’m Seeing and looks right at me, where I’m standing with a scalpel in my hand.

“Alice?” My uncle’s hand on my shoulders brings me right back to the right point in time and space.

It’s at the point I hit the floor, manage to stab myself quite viciously with the scalpel and my uncle starts cussing.

It’s been a while between visions.

The Council was basically the reason Freddie and I stayed in Forks. It was a fifty-fifty split between honouring Jeanie’s wishes, and keeping me safe and out of sight - as if my aspirations were towards a Vegas nightclub act or international pop star. I wasn’t entirely clueless.

Forks was built in a special place. A place where the barriers between the ordinary and the extraordinary were a little thinner, where the supernatural were drawn to. Jeanie had theorised that was why the Quileute were able to tap into their spirit wolves so easily, and why the gene remained so strong, father to son without a constant presence of their enemies. I didn’t know enough of their history to have an opinion, but Forks was definitely a place with an interesting history that very few people knew - even I only knew a fraction of everything that happened, past and present. There were very few written accounts; most of the histories were oral and passed down on a strict need-to-know basis.

The Council were definitely in the know, and had been for generations. There was Billy Black, Sue and Harry Clearwater representing the Quileute tribe, there was Charlie Swan representing Forks and everyone not in the know, and there was Freddie and I. Freddie, was technically Jeanie’s representative, and was the Mediator between the Ordinary and the Others. Jeanie’s family had been Mediators for generations, but she’d never had children, so all of that had somehow fallen onto Freddie - and me.

It was extremely useful to have the Police Chief and a Mortician working the Council - we’d had to fudge more than a few deaths. There was always someone or something passing through the Olympic Peninsula, and we’d negotiated, challenged, threatened, and banished more than a few creatures over the last few years.

Technically, all parties were allowed to bring their apprentice representative, but I was the only one of the next generation who attended. Charlie Swan had made it clear he didn’t want his daughter involved in any of this, and both Billy and the Clearwaters had decided that their kids were too young to know exactly what went on around here. I figured in a decade or so, it would just be me, Seth, and Jacob Black (no way would Leah hang around just for this shit show), drinking beer in the woods and deciding whether to burn or bury.

But tonight’s meeting was Special. Despite the fact I’d been drawing nonsensical cards for days now - the Star, the Tower, and Justice - no visions had appeared beyond a dream about a locket with ‘W’ engraved on it. I’d expected a fairly normal meeting, until Freddie had let me in on the plan - we were, apparently, meeting with the Cullen family. No one had informed me exactly what or who the Cullens were, only that they had a ‘fourth seat’ in the Council that they’d been entitled to since the ‘30s. I’d have to go through Jeanie’s diaries again - there were boxes of them in storage, and Jeanie had useful tidbits dotted throughout.

So that was why I was in the forest with my grandfather, shivering underneath two coats and in my new fleecy boots, standing around a fire pit that didn’t really do much more than illuminate the burning wood; the lanterns we’d brought were more effective.

Some days I really wished Leah or Seth or Jacob Black would attend these meetings; they’d certainly liven up these meetings a bit.

“They’ll be here soon,” Billy Black said grimly. Billy Black had it worse than the rest of us - getting out to this part of the forest was awkward and time-consuming with his wheelchair. Since these meetings were clandestine, we couldn’t build a proper track.

“The terms are staying the same?” Charlie asked, sipping from a paper cup of coffee Sue had pressed on him.

Billy frowned. “We aren’t here to renegotiate, but we will listen to their petition if they have one,” he said finally.

“What are the existing terms?” I asked, nudging a mossy rock with my toe.

“We’ll go over that later on, Alice,” Freddie said, watching the woods carefully.

Fine, obstruct my completely transparent attempt at finding out what was actually going on. I was definitely intrigued by the idea this clan had a ‘seat’ at the Council, but it involve negotiations? The only creature I could think of that would fit that kind of profile would be some kind of shifter.

I was bored.

And then the mysterious Cullens arrived.

They came out of the woods like a mist; slowly but all at once. They kept a respectful distance away from the fire pit, clad in pristine new clothing that was a touch too light for the cold weather but was good quality. There were three of them - a blond man, a brunette woman, and a red-haired boy - all three of them taller than average, and pale as snow. And they were lovely, as if Grecian statues had climbed down from their plinth and wandered off.

“Hello,” the man said, nodding at us politely. “Thank you for welcoming us to this meeting.”

“You’ve a right to be here, as outlined in the treaty,” Billy Black said sternly. “This is the current Council - Charlie Swan for Forks. My self, Billy Black, and Harry and Sue Clearwater for the Quileute tribe. Fred Brandon as Mediator. Carlisle Cullen for the Cullen Coven.”

Coven meant vampires. That dampened my spirits a little; my history with vampires was messy. Plus the few vampires that had ventured into this area had been unpleasant experiences. But as I stared at the Cullen coven, I noticed their eyes.

Golden, like liquid light.

Was He one of them? Was the Cullen coven only these three, or where there more?

“And the young lady?” Carlisle Cullen said, looking in my direction.

“My niece,” Freddie said in a no-nonsense tone. “Shall we begin?”

“I assume Ursula Altis has since passed? My condolences to her family,” Carlisle Cullen said. “I had a great respect for Ursula.”

“Yes. Ursula’s apprentice passed on several years ago, and she named Fred and Alice as her successors,” Harry said.

“I am sorry for your loss,” Carlisle Cullen nodded at Freddie and I. I half-smiled back at him. Jeanie had been gone a long time but I still missed her.

“This is my wife, Esme, and my oldest son Edward,” Carlisle gestured to his two companions.

“Oldest son?” Charlie Swan said sharply.

“Yes - I have three others, but we did not want to overwhelm you,” Carlisle said. “They are here, if you would like to meet them?”

“Yes. We want to know the entirety of your coven,” Harry said bluntly.

Carlisle grimaced and nodded. “Of course. My other children - Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper.”

Three more Cullens materialised from behind Carlisle Cullen - a tall blonde girl who was utterly breathtaking to look at, had a displeased expression, and was wearing the genuine designer version of my knock-off winter coat. The second was a bear of a man, with the friendliest face, and curly black hair, who winked at me as he wrapped an arm around the blonde girl’s shoulders.

And then a lanky blond boy with a dark expression and wavy blond hair, who hovered in the shadows, his features mostly obscured. All of them had the same golden eyes, the same pallor and dark under-eye circles. But they didn’t look or behave like other nomads that had passed through. They looked… like a nice family.

Maybe in a decade, Jacob, Seth, and I would be joined by Emmett Cullen for the ‘burn or bury’ booze up. He looked like he’d be the most up for livening up these meetings.

“Your family has grown.” Billy’s voice was accusing, and I turned to look at his stern expression.

“My son, Jasper, joined us in 1965,” Carlisle Cullen said politely, “Looking for a different lifestyle. We have abided by your terms, and would not have returned to this area if we were not prepared to continue to do so.”

The Quiluetes weren’t thrilled with that news, and Charlie just looked kind of tired. Freddie was taking notes on his phone, and I was just cold and getting bored again… until I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye.

Jasper was prowling away from the others, closer to me, where I stood at my uncle’s side. Both eyes were on me, like liquid amber, and I finally got a good look at him.

Jasper was Him - the boy hovering over me, half-dressed on the gurney; the boy kissing my scar, and sliding in behind me in the shower. The boy that had hovered at the edges of my visions and dreams since I was young, with adoration in his eyes and gentle touches.

The boy I’d love so fiercely and deeply…

Talk about a terrible time to finally meet.

“Oh fuck,” I said, as I looked at him, eyes wide. All those wretched cliches that terrible books write about happened at that moment. I was enchanted, besotted, and absolutely irrevocably attached to this Jasper Cullen. He was mine.

“Step back!” Harry barked out, but Jasper Cullen ignored him, watching me carefully. I couldn’t help myself; I smiled brightly at him, and he kept moving towards me. Flashes of knowledge were appearing in my head, and for some reasons I kept seeing the Lovers card, still in my deck at home. I could hear people talking, getting angry, but it was like the buzz of insects as Jasper Cullen got closer to me. His hand reached out slowly, to stroke the curve of my cheek, studying me with the strangest look on his face.

And then the pain hit, like someone had shoved an ice pick through my left eye and into my brain. The visions were folding over and over, like origami, before I could decipher them. Choices being made, minds changing, so fast I could keep up. I heard myself cry out as I fell, and then everything was dark.

Then I was seeing things in real time. The way I fell, blood running from my nose, to everyone’s utter horror. My eyes were rolled back in my head, and my body jerked in a seizure a few times before I was still.

But no one could get near me. As soon as I had fallen, Jasper had crouched over my prone form, with a horrified look on his face. Everyone was yelling and trying to get closer, and Jasper let out a snarl that was, frankly, terrifying before refocusing on me, taking my hand and plucking my glove off it, to rest against his own cheek. Whatever that was supposed to achieve did nothing, and whilst everyone else was yelling and bickering, he let out a low whine that was so pathetic, if I’d had any control over my body, I would have sat up and given him a hug.

Then Carlisle Cullen placed his hands up to the Council in a gesture of peace and nodded to Emmett before approaching Jasper.

The conversation would have been too low for anyone else to hear, but not me, in whatever kind of vision this was.

“Jasper, I understand,” Carlisle Cullen said in a low voice. “But she’s got a medical condition, you need to let her people take care of her.”

Jasper growled low, Emmett’s hand on his shoulder.

“Bro, c’mon,” he said. “You’re scaring them,” he nodded over his shoulder. Sue’s face was white with fear, and I was scared that Harry was going to stroke out on the spot.

And I was there, Sleeping Beauty, with a smear of fresh blood on my face.

“I can’t,” Jasper seemed to force out between gritted teeth. “She’s mine.” It was said with determination and desperation, and a deep tenderness.

I was pleased that whatever my embarrassing collapse had been, at least I knew we were on the same page -that we knew each other and we knew each other.

And just like that, like they were magic words, my eyes open and I was back in reality, staring up at the man-boy who was staring at me like I held the secrets to the universe.

“Alice, did he hurt you?” Freddie called out in a strained voice.

“No, that was me. Too much new information,” I said, as I began to sit up, Jasper sliding my glove back on my hand before I realised it was still missing. He held out his hand to help me up, his touch so careful and gentle.

“Okay, good. Come over here,” Freddie motioned for me to move to where the group seemed to have bunched across from the Cullens. Charlie Swan looked murderous. “She’s nothing to you, boy, just let her go.”

I winced when Freddie said that, realising immediately it was like a red flag to a bull, and all of a sudden there was a lot of motion. Jasper growled, attempting to shove me behind him - to protect me? - whilst Emmett and Carlisle Cullen decided it was time to get Jasper physically under control, and pulled him back towards where the rest of the family was standing.

I tripped over a rock and stumbled but righted myself as Jasper was bodily dragged back to where Esme, Rosalie, and Edward Cullen were waiting, looking worried.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Mrs Cullen asked as I moved back to Freddie’s side, where he quickly clasped me to him, giving me the once over.

“I’m fine,” I said before catching Emmett having bent Jasper’s arms behind his back at a hideous angle, his knee digging into Jasper’s spine. “Oh, don’t hurt him! Please!” I made a move towards them but Sue grabbed my arm, and Jasper turned to stare at me with what I can only describe as hope.

“I think this meeting is done,” Charlie Swan said finally. “You agree to maintain the existing treaty - that’s all we need. Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, we don’t want to cause any issues,” Mrs Cullen said, and Freddie snorted, shielding me with his body.

I felt like a prisoner being frog-marched back to the car.

“Back at the Brandon’s?” Charlie said, as we arrived at the cars.

“Of course,” Freddie said. “Coffee and debrief.”

#twificmas2020 #ficmas2020 #jalice #alice cullen #jasper hale #cullen family #fandom #my writing #fan fic #my fic #wip #charlie swan #my fic: anathema

29 notes · View notes

rainandhotchocolate · 5 years ago

Text

Blackout - Part 4

A/N reckon I couldn’t have gotten more angsty? HA take a whole weekend of intense anxiety and a desire to write sad shit and you get this fun ol chapter. I hope you like it <3

Sirius came by two days later. Y/N could hear them hissing at each other in the hallway before Lily pushed the door open and closed it in his face, smiling brightly at the sight of Y/N sitting fully up in bed.

“Hey! How are you feeling?”

“Ok, they’ve given me more potion for the broken ribs and rebandaged me this morning and I seem to be able to move my ribcage upwards – you might say that’s progress,” Y/N smiled back at her.

Seeing Lily each day was definitely one of the highlights. Her other two ‘roommates’ weren’t the chattiest bunch – one would reel off a set of potion ingredients every few hours as the nurses recorded them to see what they made and if it means anything. They think she was tortured for the perfect Felix Felicis but managed to give incorrect potion ingredients until there was some sort of explosion. The other hasn’t said a word since Y/N got here, just staring ominously up at the ceiling with wide, green eyes.

“That’s great progress, you’ll be walking in no time!”

“If I remember,” Y/N snorted, eyes darting anxiously back towards the door. She could see the shadow of his feet pacing up and down along the corridor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll walk you around like a puppet until you figure it out,” Lily grinned at her, sitting down in her usual chair beside Y/N’s bed and large table that was now covered in assorted sweets and flowers. Y/N found she had a particular fondness towards the Peppermint Toads which jumped a few times around the bed before going limp enough for Y/N to eat them.

They fell into a silence, Lily looking at her over-picked fingernails.

“So.” She looked up at Y/N with a face Y/N couldn’t quite pick. Worry? Pity?

“So.”

“He’s here today. Outside.”

“I heard.”

“Right of course,” Lily breathed out a laugh, flicking her hair back with one hand. “Are you ok with him being here? I’ve told him not to expect anything.”

Y/N took a deep breath in. She didn’t really know what to feel.

“Honestly, the weirdest thing is just that I can’t believe Sirius Black is waiting outside my hospital room. We just, well in my messed-up mind, we don’t have any history to warrant this. And yet I still don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Well maybe that’s residual memory? That could be a good thing.” Lily looked hopefully up at her, but Y/N knew that wasn’t the case. She felt like she was failing someone she didn’t even really know.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“So, I can bring him in?”

“Go for it.”

Lily squeezed Y/N’s hand and got up to head back towards the doorway. Y/N fidgeted in her bed, pulling herself up slightly and back onto the pillows against her head. The door opened slowly, and Y/N forced herself to smile at the two of them moving towards her, Sirius looking up at her and then dipping quickly as Lily placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him towards her. It was a very odd experession, Y/N had never seen Sirius look so uncomfortable. That you remember.

“Hey Y/N,” He walked to the other side of the bed, pushing back his curly black hair so it flopped to one side with the kind of ease Y/N was sure James envied. He was wearing a leather jacket and black jeans and felt like the complete opposite to the white walled existence she’d been living whilst in the hospital.

“Hey B-Sirius,” Y/N cleared her throat as she avoided calling him his last name. What did I call him when we were together? Sirius’s face clearly fell but he looked down to the books he was carrying to attempt to hide it.

“How you feeling?”

“Pretty good, can move now,” Y/N smiled at him, feeling a little uncomfortable seeing him watch her so closely. She wasn’t sure if anyone had ever looked at her like that before.

“You’ll be running the Thames in no time.”

Y/N laughed, “I’d be lucky to walk across London Bridge and not be out of breath.”

“I can think of other ways to get you out of breath,” Sirius grinned at her, but Y/N felt her heart jump and eyes grow wider at him. She cursed internally as her cheeks began to redden. Sirius grimaced and leaned forward to touch Y/N’s hand before thinking against it.

“Fuck, sorry, I just… I’m not used to this yet, sorry.”

“No, I just… not quite used to being flirted with, by you, yet,” Y/N hoped her smile was somewhat kind or calming. Sirius still looked flustered.

“Yeah, speaking of I brought some stuff from home for you – our home… I don’t know if Lily mentioned that?” He seemed to read Y/N’s mind, or likely very surprised expression.

“No, she didn’t,” Y/N gave Lily a look. So you live with him, you don’t remember the partner that you live with. She tried to ignore her chest getting tighter, “But thanks, what did you bring?”

Sirius picked up a large bag from under his chair and placed it in his lap.

“Oh, you brought the whole house?” Y/N teased as he began pulling books and clothes and trinkets out of the back and placing them all over the bed.

“Shut up,” Sirius rolled his eyes but Y/N was sure she’d made him smile. “I was speaking to the healer the other day and he said it would be at least another week, so I figured you’d need some more supplies. I grabbed some of your clothes, there’s comfy stuff and then a nice top since you always say to pack one even though you definitely won’t need it.”

“Hey, I could be invited to a hospital ball,” Y/N traced a hand over the silky red blouse and tried to imagine what she would look like wearing that. He folded them by the bedside table, placing a large Gryffindor jumper on top. Y/N hated that what she really wanted was her cosiest Ravenclaw jumper but she kept her mouth shut.

“Brought some books too – got that muggle one you were… you uh said you wanted,” Sirius handed over a red hardcover book, the letters Alice in Wonderland over the cover. Y/N felt a flicker of memory, a thought, something. It was more frustrating that actually knowing, like she was about to sneeze, and it kept disappearing.

“Thanks, I can’t wait to read it.” Y/N turned it over in her hands, looking up to see Sirius watching her again. “Uh, everything ok?”

“Sorry,” Sirius looked away again, “I keep going to say something and then realising you might not have the context.”

“Yeah that has been annoying.”

“I can’t even imagine how you are coping right now,” Sirius shook his head, sitting back in his chair.

“A lot of jello and roast potatoes.”

“Do they at least give you butter?”

“Nah, they are the driest potatoes to ever live,” Y/N laughed. It was nice to have an easy conversation with him, given the countless visions of Y/N stuttering in front of him or sitting in silence together that Y/N had been having nightmares of. “Can I ask a question?”

“Of course, anything,” Sirius leaned in slightly.

“Why did you ask me out? Sorry that’s a weird question for you. I know we were… friends,” Y/N grimaced as she spoke. “I just, I’m trying to fill in the gaps you know? I don’t know how much Lily has filled you in?”

“I told him what you remember,” She gave a kind smile to both Sirius and Y/N. or pitiful smile.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine.” Sirius grabbed another book on the bed, pulling his chair in closer to the bed so that he could sit next to her and see the book together. He smelled like cigarette smoke and… a sleepy dog?

“You put this together for our 6-month anniversary,” Sirius was smiling wistfully at the papers in front of him. There was a photo of the two of them dancing in a circle before Sirius dips Y/N dangerously low towards the ground. Y/N was laughing, head thrown back full-body kind of laughter, arm opening up into a fake dance pose. On the next page was a dozen different receipts from different stores around London.

“I might have acted like a bit of a tool when you came to the first order meeting, shut it Lily,” Lily had snorted loudly as he spoke. “A huge tool, trying to pretend I knew a lot more about muggle stuff than I might have.”

“Right…?”

“And so you may have asked me to pick up supplies for you since I knew the muggle world so well.”

“Supplies for what?”

“You told me they were muggle necessities,” Sirius was laughing now, “I went all around London collecting things – the weirdest was the body pillow which you told me was something all muggles fell asleep with and I ended up in a sex store being lectured at by an old guy who was debating the different – anyway, that’s when I realised you had been messing with me.”

“Took you that long?”

“Apparently I was a little distracted,” Sirius grinned, “Anyway, I got back, got on one knee and gave you your body pillow and asked you out.”

“That’s a good story,” Y/N said, before she could stop herself.

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

And there was the silence Y/N had been dreading. Y/N curled her hand into a ball, digging her nails into her fists to try to avoid showing the panic that was building slowly in her chest. She wanted to make him feel better, to not be the reason that he was watching himself twirl her around over and over again in a large notebook, but it also felt like a stranger was lying to her.

“I think that’s probably enough for one day.” Lily stood up suddenly, taking hold of Y/N’s curled hand and unfurling it beside the bed where Sirius couldn’t see.

“Oh, oh right of course um,” Sirius looked like he might hit something. And also like he was hoping for Y/N to ask him to stay. When she said nothing he stood up.

“Can I come by again? If that’s ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, you can.” Y/N smiled at him, holding Lily’s hand tighter.

“I’ll bring some Peppermint Toads next time, so you can stop eating the pathetic jello,” Sirius teased half-heartedly, giving a look to Lily.

“I’ll walk you out.” Lily squeezed Y/N’s hand and let go, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Take your time.”

They walked out of the room slowly, Sirius turning back at the doorway to wave goodbye and then disappearing behind the door. Y/N took the momentary lapse in people to suck in a deep, shaky breath. It hurt, her chest physically hurt as she took in another, and another, knowing they were speeding up uncontrollably but unable to slow herself down all the same.

Taglist:

@averytruerayofsunshine @siriuslyjanhvi @blushingskywalker @blackpinkdolan @thebabblingbookworm @cherrie511 @imlukesnirvana @avengersassemblee @maraudersandco @sly-vixen-up2nogood @sirius-lysad @evyiione @minerva26love @aikeia @gollyderek @greatwombatblaze @songforhema @your-typical-giggle @myownviperroom @hermionie-is-my-queen @demiwitch527 siobhanhope delightfuldela nadinissavage fleurmoon treestarrrrrrrr @with1love1anu @findzelda @brighteyedmichelle a-dorky-book-keeper placeforcoolusername damalseer @approved-by-dentists @placeforcoolusername

#rainandhotchocolate #sirius x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x y/n #sirius black x y/n #maruaders fic #marauders x reader #lily #lily evans

118 notes · View notes

ericbrandonrp · 4 years ago

Note

1. 2. 3. 6. 7. 9. 10. 11. 14. 16. 17. 18. 19. 21. 22. 23. 24. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 37. 39. 43. 48. 49. 52. 57. 58. 59. 60 (im so sorry these are a lot *hides*)

Book Questions

@youngprofessorx

1. How often do you read?

// Not as often as I would like to. I haven’t actually read a book in two or three months now...

2. What kinds of books do you enjoy reading?

// Mostly crime/thriller! Though I kinda switched to WWII romances (my guilty pleasure...) and also horror. I’m actually quite picky with them...

3. What is your favorite reading spot?

// In bed or on the sofa. I need to snuggle into blankets and pillows.

6. What is the most amount of books you remember walking out of a bookstore with?

// Oh boy...seven, I think. It’s quite rare for me to find more than one book in a bookstore, however, because our bookstores focus on books I don’t want to read. We used to have a small family-led bookstore in our town that had literally everything you want. Gosh, I miss them.

7. How often do you find yourself in a library?

// Not at all. Our tiny local library doesn’t have any books I care about. I haven’t actually been there in ten years or so.

9. What is the last book you’ve read cover to cover? Do you recommend it?

// I’m not quite sure, but I think that was The Poppy Field. I finished it within two days.

10. Which author have you read the most?

// Jo Nesbø! I read his entire Harry Hole series and his modern take on Macbeth. Love the way he’s writing!

11. Have you met any authors?

// As a matter of fact, I once ran (literally) into Peter Scholl-Latour at a bookstore. I only realised who he was when I was already down the road.

14. Approximately how many books are on each of your bookshelves?

// I don’t have bookshelves in the classic sense (they’re all filled with DVDs). They are strewn all over the place; some under the bed, others in boxes, many in the attic. And I have no clue how many there are.

16. Have you ever correctly predicted the ending of a book?

// Probably, yes, but I’ve read so many books I can’t possibly recall which book it was. Sorry!

17. Have you ever thought you knew how a book was going to end but was completely wrong?

// ...yes. All the time with the Harry Hole series lol I know not to speculate and guess but damn he proves me wrong every time!

18. Are there any books on your bookshelf that you regret owning?

// Nope. When I bought a book that sucks I usually give it away so I don’t have to waste any space with it lol

19. What is the most amount of books you’ve read at one time? (i.e. a chapter of one book then a chapter of another, then back to the first book and so on)

// Five or six? When I buy a new book I’m excited to start reading it, so I often end up reading many books all at once.

21. From 1-10, how much do you enjoy the smell of a new book?

// New book...maybe an 8?

22. From 1-10, how much do you enjoy the smell of older books?

// 100!!! Gosh I love the smell of old books! I could spend hours in a bookstore that has old books around!

23. How often do you have a book with you?

// Not often, actually. I’m not going out a lot. Though I always take at least one book with me whenever I travel anywhere. Just in case.

24. Do you prefer paperback or hardcover books?

// Paperback, they take less space. I do like hardcover books when it’s something special I just buy to collect ‘cause they’re beautiful.

30. How many of your books were bought online?

// Quite a lot, frankly. I usually read German books but I also like English ones (also cause it’s difficult to get English ones over here) so I usually order those online. Also during this lockdown bullshit I don’t have any other choice than to buy them online. Plus, our bookstores suck. So all in all...I’d say maybe 70% of my books were bought online?

31. Have you ever bought a book solely because you liked its title?

// Not really. Titles are often completely misleading.

32. How often are you recommending a book to other people?

// Not often? I don’t know many people who are into books like I am so I just shut up lol I do recommend some books to my mum, though, cause she’s into crime stuff as well.

33. How often do you read the books others recommend to you?

// Honestly? Not at all. I do take a look but that’s mostly it. I like to make my own opinion.

34. What is your favorite book series and what is your favorite book of that series?

// HARRY HOLE!! haha I swear I read them all and can’t get enough of them, even though I know they’re gonna hurt. My favourites are The Snowman and The Devil’s Star.

35. When reading a book, how often are you thinking of ways in which it could have been written better?

// Not at all. I only keep wondering what the fuck they were thinking when translating the book to German...it doesn’t always make sense lol

37. Have you ever disliked a book so much that you never finished reading it?

// I hate not finishing a book, but yes, I have actually given up on some.

39. Has any book ever made you ugly cry?

// Yes. The Light Between Oceans left me sobbing, as well as The Poppy Field...

43. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

// Napkin.

48. What fictional character from a book do you think you relate to the most? Why that character?

// No clue. I don’t think about such things, really.

49. Name one (yes, only one) fictional character from a book you wish you could be best friends with in real life. Why that character?

// ...I don’t know? Harry Hole, maybe?

52. Have you ever read a book because you discovered that a celebrity you like was?

// I did read some books because said actor was reported to be in a movie made after a book...but not because anyone recommended it.

57. What is your favorite movie based off a book?

// The Light Between Oceans. It’s so perfectly made and includes almost every scene from the book as it was written!

58. Has a movie ever made you go and read the book that it’s based off?

// Enigma did. I liked the movie a lot when I was a kid so I went out to get the book.

59. Name one book you wish had a movie version. Who would you choose to act in it?

// I just wanted to say Night Train to Lisbon, but remembered there’s a movie with Jeremy Irons lol Uhm...more of the Harry Hole series with Michael in the leading role?

60. Name one book you believe is superior to its movie version and explain why you think so.

// Enigma again. I was quite a bit disappointed when I read the book cause it had so many great scenes in it (and that ending!!!) that weren’t in the movie.

#youngprofessorx #;;out of brownies #//dude wtf lol #//thanks tho!

1 note · View note

moonscarsandstars · 5 years ago

Text

Lily: I can’t believe they actually went through with it, honestly.

Alice: I know, it’s just stupid.

Dorcas: the article said they were schoolkids.

Dorcas: they’re literally our ages, okay?

Lily: i get what you mean, but it’s a little much, don’t you think?

Lily: I mean, I’d expect some backlash if i put whipped cream all over the store’s windows.

Alice: Where’d they even get that much whipped cream from?

Alice: That shit’d cost a fortune.

Alice: I mean, have you seen the size of the freakin shop?

Lily: Ik, it’s a waste of time, money and food.

Remus slowly scrolled through the chats from earlier that evening.

He realy had no idea why the store had a night shift- well, he did; technically it was a 24 hour shop- but other than the occasional contraceptive, no one ever came anywhere beyond eleven.

Lily had tried to convince him not to take the shift. She told him that they had an important class at seven, but he refused skip the shift.

The truth was, he really wanted to buy a hardcover version of Wuthering heights, but it was way beyond the pathetic amount of pocket money he had, and his parents would rather buy the store he was working in than yet another book.

So here he was, running on two cups of coffee, wearing the store’s shirt, and scrolling through his phone in the flickering lights.

The store was relatively empty.

Except for the dishevelled stranger who’d suddenly rushed in, hair flying all around him.

He looked around frantically, before locking eyes with Remus, and promptly stalking towards him.

Remus’s heart sped up, and fear pulsed through his veins, as the man neared him with an intense gaze. But as the man came close, the fierce look in his eyes seemed more weary, and shadows hung under them.

But damn, this man was hot.

He looked no older than Remus himself, with wild, black hair- shoulder length- that wildly flailed around his face. He had black studs on his ears, and sharp cheekbones. Those eyes, however, were a whole new thing. They were hypnotic, and Remus couldn’t bring himself to look away.

There was something familiar about him, though Remus couldn’t put his finger on it.

“How- how can I help you? Remus hoped he didn’t notice the stutter.

“Hi, d’you have thermocol and citric acid?”

“What?”

The man didn’t seem to hear him, as his gaze lingered for a second or two- though it felt like hours- before he shook out of it. His focused expression dropped, and he looked much more relaxed.

“Oh- chemistry project. I- uh- was busy earlier, and this was only shop open near me. Yeah- don’t ask me what old sluggy expects us to do.”

“Sluggy?”

“Slughorn. Can’t blame him for wanting us to refer to him by his first name,” said Sirius, imitating him for the last part.

“Poor bloke must hate his parents.”

“Yeah,” said Sirius with a chuckle.

Remus noticed the man’s eyes slip to his lips unconsciously, and blushed faintly. He didn’t seem to notice, and his gaze lingered for a second again, before he Remus waved a hand in front of his eyes.

“S- sorry- I really need sleep. Anyway- yeah- citric acid and thermocol?”

“Oh,” Remus stretched out his hand behind him before continuing. “I think if you searched there, you might find the thermocol. It’s in the ‘art and crafts’ section.”

“Thanks.”

And with that, the man rushed back to the ‘arts and crafts’ section.

Remus smirked after the man, feeling butterflies he didn’t realised existed fade away.

He switched on his phone, and swiped to their group chat.

That’s when it hit him.

The boys in the article. Who put whipped cream all over the roof. Of the store. This hot man was one of them.

Remus started chuckling to himself, earning him a weird look from the man who’d just appeared with a huge slab of thermocol.

“What’s so funny?”

“Looked at my future,” mumbled Remus earning a dry chuckle from the man. “Anyway, the citric acid is most probably at the pharmacy.”

“Thanks.”

As Remus watched the man jog off, he escaped the till he was standing at, quickly making his way to the refrigerated section. Skimming over it, he found what he was looking for, and quickly made his way back at the till.

Not a moment or two later, the man came from the pharmacy with a bottle of citric acid and a hairbrush.

“Highly doubt ‘Sluggy’ wants neat hair as a part of his experiment,” mused Remus.

“Oh, don’t you know? Taking care of your hair is punk rock, no matter what James says.”

“I’m going to assume that James is your partner in crime.”

The man let out a chuckle, before it fell from his face in confusion.

Remus produced a bottle of whipped cream from below the till, earning him a loud bark of laughter, that even drew a grin from Remus himself.

“Has the whole world heard about it at this point?”

“Nah, Lily’s just way too obsessed with the headlines.”

“Oh my god.” Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, the grin still painted on his face. “Isn’t Lily the part time bartender- redhead?”

“Yeah? How did you know?”

“James is the bloke with messy hair, glasses, and heart-eyes for her.”

“That’s James? She’s been mooning for him forever now!”

“You’re kidding. James would start singing.”

“Really not. I’ve seen her taking the till whenever he comes in.”

“Oh no, poor girl. She could do better than James.”

“Sure she could, that’s what I keep telling her. But no, she’s stuck on him.”

“That’s really the saddest thing I’ve heard all day, and believe me when I say this has been a strange day.”

Just then, the man’s phone started ringing. He mouthed “sorry, one sec,” before picking it up.

It was then that Remus realised.

He was head over heels for the man.

And he didn’t even know the man’s bloody name.

As the man put the phone back in the pockets of his jeans, Remus resisted the urge to pull him over the counter and do things he’d be fired for.

“What’s your name?”

“Sirius. Sirius Black.”

“The star?”

“Why thank you, I am a star,” said Sirius coyly, before continuing. “Yeah, like the star. My biological parents were into the whole star thing, I mean, my brother was called Regulus.”

Remus was confused by the word biological, but decided not to press further.

“Anyway,” Sirius said. “As nice as this is, I need to go now.”

“Oh, right.”

Remus collected the items, and scanned the barcode. It was a robotic process really, one he could do in his sleep. He collected the bill, and held his hand out for the cash, stuffing it in the counter.

“D’you want the receipt?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Remus collected the bill, before an idea struck him. As Sirius fumbled with the items, trying to stuff them in a plastic bag, Remus found a pen, and scribbled down his number onto the bill.

“Here you go,” he said, holding it out and turning around to hide a grin.

It was barely a few moments after he’d left the building, that Remus felt his phone vibrate. He opened it, grinned widely as he saw the notification.

(501) 961-806: never thanked you for the free whipped cream.

#sirius black wears earrings you can fight me on this #yknow the ones #studs #cause he says #'theyre punk rock'#'no they arent'#'shut up james they are'#marauders #marauders era #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar meet cute #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #sirius black x remus lupin

26 notes · View notes

chrisevansbabymama · 5 years ago

Text

Daddy Hair Care - Chapter 6

A/N: At long last, Chapter 6! I’d like to give a major shout out and thank you to everyone that’s been checking in on this story. Writing this chapter hasn’t been the easiest as I had a major writer’s block, this is the 9th attempt!!! This wasn’t the original direction I was taking this chapter, but I think it works and fits with the rest and what’s to come. Thank you for the kind patience, I hope you enjoy. And yes, I’ve purposefully made Mya’s dialogue grammatically incorrect to signify her youth; I’ve taken a lot of inspo from the way my little niece is now starting to string sentences together.

______

Chapter 5

Chapter 6 - I was wondering maybe; Could I make you my baby:

“Theeeeeee end!” Chris concluded the bedtime story dramatically, closing the colourful hardcover book and placed it on the bedside table. “Did you like this one, baby?”

Mya giggled at his sing-song voice and nodded, “Yeah, but I like Frozen one better,”

Chris groaned in defeat and rolled his eyes with a playful dramatic huff, “Baby, we read that one aaaall the time. Y’know, there’s more to life than Anna and Elsa. I think this book was pretty cool; there was a funny rabbit, a greedy cow, and a singing horse…I think Dodger liked this one too,”

Dodger perked his ear at the sound of his name, and then relaxed back at the foot of the small girl’s bed, looking on at the duo.

“And the ‘silly sausage,’” she started laughing, remembering the favourite part in the book that had her laughing hysterically.

“Still laughing at the ‘silly sausage’ huh,” he then laughed too.

Mya smiled and tried to stifle a yawn, but it overpowered her. Her features darkened as she looked at her dad solemnly.

“I want to come to work with you tomorrow,”

“I would love to have you with me, but you know children and Dodger are not allowed at daddy’s work,” he reminded her, although it wasn’t very accurate – the informality of his work allowed him to bring friends and family on set, but he vowed himself to never expose Mya to that.

“But I miss you dada,”

“I know it’s not fun when I’m working, if I could take you and Dodger with me, I would. That’s why daddy brought you both here with me to New York, so you could be even closer to me,”

“Dada but you always go work,”

Chris frowned but quickly replaced it with a warm expression to encourage her to continue expressing herself.

“I know honey-” he said calmly.

“And we have to stay in this room all the time,” she continued to complain. “I want to play outside,”

Chris couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah, I gotta agree with you on that one kid. This hotel life wasn’t daddy’s best decision. Daddy’s gotta fix that, even Dodger would love to play outside,”

She nodded solemnly.

“After this week, I’ll only be working in the evening, so we’ll get to spend all the mornings and afternoons together, we can go wherever you want,” he offered, knowing he’d regret that just as he had this weekend when he told her they could go wherever she wanted and she suggested Disneyworld.

He then had to explain to her that it wasn’t possible to just up and go to Disneyworld, and then had to do damage control, when she’d spent almost twenty minutes refusing to talk to him. That was until she realised she needed him to help move her play kitchen area to another side of their suite, so she came back to him with a white flag. Chris took the opportunity then to encourage to scale down her weekend plans to something local.

“Then we go home?”

“Not next week, but soon,” he explained. “Is that what would make you happy?”

Mya nodded, “Yeah, so I can play with my dollies in the garden,”

Chris rested his head on his palm, trying to make sense of what she was expressing. He’d felt the same strain she did regarding staying in the hotel and they were clearly both homesick, but that suite – large as it was, was becoming claustrophobic. He also wondered where he was going wrong: that even though they were in the same suite – (not miles away as previously before) she still missed him. Then the guilt of spending Friday night with Kayla consumed him; feeling like he had abandoned his daughter to pursue his own selfish interests. But he quickly shook the thought away, refusing to go down that spiral.

If anything, he was grateful and surprised Mya had lasted this long without complaining, but even then this wasn’t a topic he had wanted to confront. There were too many layers involved; it wasn’t as simple as packing up his and her bags, and flying back to LA. He had to stay in New York and work, then had a few weeks of freedom before filming again in a few months; that posed a question of whether it was the best decision for her to come along to Atlanta as he finished his final Marvel instalment. And if not, he knew there was going to be the issue of delivering the news and actually parting ways for those few months after bonding so well together in New York.

Again, he shook that thought away, compartmentalising it in the ‘deal with it when it comes’ box.

“We can’t go home just yet,” he said, feeling like he just kept presenting her with a disappointing answer after another. He shuffled close and scooped her up so she rested on his chest. “How about we go to Boston for a few days this week? You get to play with your cousins and in the garden,”

Her eyes widened with excitement as she gazed at her dad, now a beacon of hope, “Yay! Can Daja come too?”

“Of course Dodger is coming too,” Chris chuckled.

“What about my other grammy, the blue grammy,” she asked, referring to her grandma on her mother’s side; who lived in a big blue house.

Chris pursed his lips, lying through his teeth and going against his principal of always telling the truth, “She’s on holiday, remember? That’s why you get to be here with daddy in New York,”

“She’s taking for ages to come back from holiday!” she groaned, now lacing her fingers with her dad’s.

“Won’t be any longer now, baby,” he changed the subject quickly. “I think it’s time to close those little eyes. Tiff is picking you up tomorrow and daddy will also be leaving early for his interviews. But I finish early, we can call grandma and tell her we’re coming, and then go to see a movie and dinner?”

Her face lit up again, but then it fell sadly, “But Daja can’t come to the movies with us,”

Chris cast a glance at him, dozing off at the foot of the bed, “He won’t mind, shhhh…it’s a secret,”

“Dada, you have a girlfriend?” she asked suddenly and he couldn’t decipher whether she was really asking him or she was seeking confirmation on a truth she already knew, which was strange and uncomfortable to him because that also another topic he wasn’t ready to confront with her.

He didn’t even know she knew what a ‘girlfriend’ was.

“Uhm, no,” Chris shifted uncomfortably. An embarrassed smile brightened up his features and he wanted to laugh at being interrogated by a child about his non-existent love life. “Why?”

She shrugged, “Is it a secret?”

“Mya,”

She gave him a coy smile.

“How do you know what a girlfriend is?” Chris eyed her suspiciously, deciding on a new angle.

“I dunno,”

“Princess, c’mon, we tell each other everything. Right? Remember, we said we always have to tell the truth?”

“Uncle Seb has a girlfriend, he said it’s a secret,” Mya shared.

“He told you he has a girlfriend?”

She nodded again, covering her face.

“How do you know he has a girlfriend?” Chris pressed on, trying a different angle. She shrugged again.

“Aunty Lauren. I saw her on the phone with him,”

“I’m not following baby,”

“Like,” she began to explain, as best as she could with her limited vocabulary. “She’s with him on his phone picture, they were kissing. It’s yucky. I saw it when I was playing games,”

“Oh,” Chris finally said, understanding that she meant his phone’s display picture. Chris muttered under his breath, “Interesting. Your Uncle Seb’s so much trouble.”

After a short pause, he proposed the question that had been occupying his thoughts for a long while, and then of course the need to ask was exacerbated on Friday when he’d spent the evening with Kayla. He didn’t think he would be confronting this topic this soon, but he couldn’t miss the opportunity to ask Mya now and plant the seed, seeing as she’d brought it up herself.

“What if daddy had a girlfriend, how would that make you feel?”

“I don’t know, daddy. Maybe no kissing each other, it’s yucky,” she shrugged again earnestly, making Chris realise she understood the term ‘girlfriend’ in a very naïve way; as something to snicker about. “Are you going to get a girlfriend?”

“Oh man, not you too asking me to get a girlfriend,” he rolled his eyes and made a face to make her giggle. “Daddy is – he will – y’know what, this is weird, go to bed baby,”

“Okay. Kiss-kiss,” she pouted.

“Okay. I love you,” he smothered her face with kisses, causing her to laugh hysterically and seek refuge under her blanket, waking up Dodger as she accidentally kicked him. “So tomorrow, you and daddy have to talk about something important okay?”

“Okay, after the movie?”

Chris smiled, ruffling her hair “Yes sweetie. Goodnight,” he turned to Dodger. “C’mon buddy, let’s leave miss ‘silly sausage’ to sleep,”

And there was that cackle again, “I love you dada. Love you Daja,”

Chris poured himself a glass of red wine as he unwound on his couch, putting the TV on with Dodger at his side as Rick & Morty came on. He took a deep breath, feeling this was the most relaxed he had been all weekend. His two kids had occupied so much of his thoughts, energy and time this weekend, so whenever he could steal a moment of tranquillity he made the best of it. As he watched Rick & Morty in a daze, his mind wandering about the last topic of conversation he’d just had with Mya. It felt weird, talking about his love life with his baby girl. It’s not something he ever imagined having to do, back when he used to imagine life with a child. He wondered if that was her cry for help for some womanly company in the Evans household, or was it a plea to maintain the status quo, so she could have him all to herself? Especially since she had communicated it very clearly that she missed him when he was away at work, let alone someone else coming into his life demanding attention.

He sighed, pouring another glass growing very aware of how quickly he had downed the first. He thought about Kayla; if he was going to pursue her – what would the dynamics be like? Did she even like kids? Did she like dogs? Could she handle his complicated parenting situation?

Again, for the umpteenth time that evening, he shook that thought away. He was realising more and more, like everyone told him, his worst fears were things he was cooking up in his imagination. He always got ahead of himself in thought and imagined the worst possible scenarios. Scott always told him “no wonder why you have anxiety, you’re forcing your brain to live through things that are not even real.” So now he was trying to be better; trying to reign in on his thoughts and control them in a positive direction, even if it meant being too optimistic in thinking there was even a slight chance Kayla reciprocated his feelings.

So he went back to thinking about her, it felt nice. It was his place of peace. It was addictive to remember her smile, her voice, the way she teased him with no care and a total disregarded of his actor title. It felt nice, to be seen by her as a person and not an object or an ideal. He couldn’t wait to see her again tomorrow; he imagined her plump lips and then remembered the several lost opportunities that he had to kiss on her Friday. Her soft touch; the way she’d gently tap him on the shoulder when she’s laughing, she wasn’t as tactile as he was, but he remembered every single touch. He remembered the way her fingers felt in his fair. He remembered her scent emanating from different points on her body: her neck when she hugged him, her wrist when she applied products to his face, and her hair when she walked passed him.

His eyes flickered to his phone on the table, opening Safari on private browsing; his fingers hovered over the keypad on Google search. It was something he had to come to terms with sooner or later, and if Friday with Kayla and tonight’s conversation with Mya were anything to go by, it was going to be sooner. So he did, he typed the words in before quickly pressing the backspace, feeling ridiculous, so instead he called the person he knew would give him the peace he was after.

After several missed calls, she answered on the third attempt.

“Hi, sorry I’d left my phone in the dining room,”

“Hi,” He sighed contentedly into the phone, finding solace in her voice and rushed to get his thoughts together because he could feel that familiar wash of anxiety clouding him and choking him.

“I need your help with something,” he said, feeling his face warm up as though she could see him. It was a combination of the wine and the words he was going to speak that made him feel like he was going to throw up.

“Is everything okay?” she enquired with concern. “Chris?”

“Yeah, I’m just sitting here and was about to ask Google for advice on something that I’m sure it’d have answers for, but, I think you’re the best person to help me out here,”

“Okay,” she said tentatively. “What were you searching for?”

After a few seconds of silence and another sip of wine, Chris finally answered, knowing that as he was speaking out these words into the universe, there was no turning back, he would be confirming that he wanted to be with Kayla. All those negative thoughts and scenarios that could be – he also put them in the same ‘deal with it when and if they come’ box.

“Chris, you’re making me nervous,”

“I uhm…I wasn’t sure that Google will have an answer specifically tailored for a single dad who’s also an actor, for this particular question,” he sighed with a nervous laugh. “How do I go back out there and start dating again?”

She let out a soft gasp.

“What?” he was on edge.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that question?”

“I know. But I met this woman and she’s amazing, she’s really incredible and I’m losing my mind every day that I don’t talk to her or see her,” he chuckled, feeling ridiculous. “I know this feeling, so I’m ready to go for it,”

“I’m so happy you called,” she stalled and emitted a muffled sound.

“Ma…Are you crying? Seriously…?”

__________

Disclaimer: Gif not my own

Tags: @thegirlwithpaperheart @disaster-rose @youlifetime @mississippifangirl @thinemineours @tessathedragon @thottio @caninoona @eratotalles @allonszassbutt@thinemineours@dreamingwithmendes @void-imaginations @daybreak96 @l-auteuse @cliffordasparagus @bumber-car-s@lvlyab@melaninmarvel @milkymil-k@dyckvandyke @prettymuchboodup @i-fear-neither-death-nor-pain@the-doctors-fallen-angel @tfandtws @mariswritingforfun @renesmeeharelds @turn-thy-paige @disaster-rose

#Chris Evans #Chris Evans fanfic #Chris Evans fan fic #Chris Evans fic #Chris Evans fanfiction #Chris Evans fan fiction #Chris Evans imagine #chris evans x woc #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #Chris Evans daddy imagine #Sebastian stan #Sebastian Stan imagine #Daddy Hair Care

176 notes · View notes

i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 5 years ago

Text

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Three)

Wazzup? I have been hit with the inspiration bug and I felt drawn to work on this story while I have all this fun isolation time. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned this before but I have this story all mapped out, so don’t be afraid of it being abandoned. I’m gonna finish this baby if it’s the last thing I do! As always, I’m self-conscious of this chapter, especially with characterization but please do let me know how you feel about it! I had fun writing it, and I hope you have fun reading it! (Forgive any mistakes you see, I am only babey).

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human

Summary: More barging in, some tenderness, some threatening. All in a day’s work.

Warnings: This got SIGNIFICANTLY longer than other parts, so forgive me. There’s more cursing, but I think I’m just gonna have to resign myself to the fact that this is who I am now.

Word Count: 2,889

Men are stupid. It is a lesson that every person that considered themselves attracted to men learns at some point in their life, and it was a lesson that you had apparently forgotten. You had let yourself get pulled in by the promise of exquisite, centuries-old books and now you were paying for it.

You had assumed post-breakup position: laying across your sofa in your old, but still very fluffy pyjamas, a carton of ice cream on your lap with the sound of crap telly playing in the background. You weren’t even paying attention to what was happening on screen, but you knew that the alternative was to sit in silence until it was time for work, and you didn’t know how much of that you could take.

You couldn’t understand what exactly your problem was. Aziraphale hadn’t really done anything wrong, had he? He had been the perfect gentleman from the moment you had met him and yet something in you felt…betrayed. The thought of how angry Aziraphale had gotten, the crashing sound that had come from his sitting room window, the memory of the rage in his eyes frightened you. This man who had lovingly repaired priceless works of literature, who had patiently sat and enthusiastically listened to you rant about all the things that had happened to you over the course of the day, who had somehow remembered every single one of your favourite dishes and had cooked them all himself just because he had wanted to had transformed in front of your eyes. He’d become something terrible and dangerous, and that was your problem. The switch had been too much for you, and your fear had turned into hurt.

It was ridiculous, really. You knew that it was, but that didn’t stop you from avoiding the familiar little bookshop from then on. Partly out of residual confusion and dismay at what had happened, but mostly out of an overwhelming sense shame at how poorly you had dealt with the situation. You’d run away sobbing as though Aziraphale had hit you, when all he had done was defend you fiercely to someone who seemed to be an important figure in his life. No, you wouldn’t be stepping foot near the shop anytime soon if you had anything to do about it.

Unfortunately for you, you had a great less “anything” to do with it than you thought you had.

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

It had been another long day. You enjoyed your new promotion and you were eternally grateful that you had gotten it in the first place, but it came with a truckload of new responsibilities that left you singularly exhausted on the bus ride home that evening. In your efforts to avoid Aziraphale at all costs, you had recently taken to riding the bus again, much to your wallet’s chagrin. Again, the foolishness of your actions was not lost on you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to grow up.

The bus came to a stop and you followed the stream of tourists out onto the pavement. You felt almost like you were in a daze, mechanically turning and walking towards your apartment. Your eyes seemed to see through everything, out of focus and not really paying attention to what was going on around you. Distantly, you noticed that the air had begun to smell faintly of vanilla, like the nearby bakery was baking a wedding cake. In your tired state, you had forgotten that that particular bakery would have been closed long before you had even stepped foot on the bus earlier. Your neighbourhood was not a particularly dangerous one, but it was never smart for a young person to be out so close to dark without being at least somewhat aware of their surroundings. Though you couldn’t have known this, every potential mugger, or killer, or other type of criminal suddenly remembered something urgent that needed tending to on the other side of the city. Speeding motorists found their gas petals to be a tad bit wonky, keeping their vehicles moving along at well under the speed limits. Streetlamps that had long been neglected by the council clicked on, lighting your way home. Just for shits and giggles, for no reason at all (except for one very good reason that you were not at all privy to and were unlikely to be in your lifetime), you lifted your head and turned to look across the street.

Your heart skipped a beat. It was him! It had to be. He was standing in the middle of a group of people, none of them particularly interesting in anyway, so his shockingly white curls and light brown coat stood out like a sore thumb. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. It had been so long since you had seen the man, and the ache you felt as you tried to get a better view of him was almost too much to bear. Unbidden, your arm began to raise itself and his name flew to the tip of your tongue, but before you knew it, he was gone.

You thought about the incident all the way to your building and up the stairs to your flat. You had half a mind to call Aziraphale and demand to know why he was hanging about on Dean Street not ten minutes ago, and where the hell had he gone between the two seconds it had taken you to decide to call out to him and the moment you’d realised he was no longer there. You decided, thankfully, that you probably weren’t going to come at it from the right angle, especially not over the phone, and that you’d be better off continuing as you were. You put your keys and purse down and hung up your coat, thinking about dinner but unable to keep the memory of Aziraphale’s kind smile out of your mind.

You cooked yourself some pasta, not in the mood for a proper meal. You loved cooking, you really did, but it didn’t seem to have the same… ‘umph!’ to it that it had before this whole fiasco with Aziraphale. You had turned on the television so that you could have a bit of background noise while you worked and let yourself focus on the familiar rituals of boiling and straining and stirring. Before long, you had a plate of your favourite pasta along side a glass (a rather full one, mind you,) of your favourite wine. All was well.

Your serenity was interrupted by loud pounding at your door, as if someone were trying to knock the whole bloody thing down. You jumped, nearly spilling your wine all over your face, but you saved yourself at the last minute. Furiously (gingerly) putting the glass down on your kitchen table, you stood up from your chair, intending on giving whoever was on the other side of that door a piece of your mind. Apparently, you weren’t moving quite fast enough for them, because they knocked again, and you swore you could hear the hinges give a little and the force they were being put under. You stomped over to the door, unlocked it, wrenched it open to find—

“What the fuck?” It was Aziraphale’s angry friend. He stood right outside your door, smirking at you like the little shit he probably was. Your brain paused, hit rewind, and started again. You remembered the incident in Aziraphale’s living room and you tensed, preparing yourself for a deluge of indeterminate nonsense about you being mortal? And that somehow being a problem? He was just as unnerving as he had been when you had first seen him, still swaying, still upending the Universe. The real question of the hour was—

“How do you know where I live?!” You screeched, attempting to shut the door in his face, only to be met with his arm. He smirked and advanced on you, forcing you to walk backwards into your own flat. You looked around desperately and saw a hardcover textbook that you had been using to refresh some technique for work. You grabbed it and pointed it towards him, trying to look threatening. The man reached his hand out and you backed away.

“Don’t! Don’t come any closer!” Crowley stopped moving forward, but he didn’t look the least bothered by your performance. He chuckled, leaning against the door frame.

“Well I was going to introduce myself, but it seems you remember me. Let’s put a name to the face, shall we? My name is Crowley and I understand that I may be…how do you say, fit a f? I am sorry, love but you aren’t quite my type.” He finished by making a show of looking you up and down, which only fuelled your annoyance.

“Answer my question! How do you know where I live? Why are you even here?!”

“I’m afraid that was two questions, which one—”

“ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTIONS!” You demanded. Crowley frowned behind his pitch-black sunglasses (which he wore inside, hours after the sun had set) and seemed to grow more serious.

“I—that’s not how I was supposed to start this. Force of habit, you know, it gets the best of us all.” You didn’t respond, waiting for this strange man who had barged into your life on two separate occasions and had brought you nothing but irritation to explain himself.

“See it’s…I…you are—” He stopped, annoyed with the difficulty he was having. You were annoyed that he was still in your flat. “Aziraphale isn’t well.”

Your heart stopped. What? How could that be? You had just seen him! What was wrong? Was he dying? What if—

“He misses you, love. He won’t admit it but he does. He feels awful about what happened and that you were scared or whatever and ran away and he’s been wanting to call you for weeks but he’s too scared to. He’s not himself, Y/N.” This was not what you were expecting to hear. Aziraphale missed you? He’d been thinking about you? You basked in this knowledge for a couple of seconds before your mind stuck on something.

“How do you know my name?” There hadn’t been time for introductions when he had interrupted you and Aziraphale, and you definitely hadn’t said it since he’d interrupted you now.

“Angel talks about you all the time. It’d be grand not to know your name but noooo. Everything is always “Y/N that” and “Y/N this”. “Isn’t Y/N perfect Crowley?”” He’d pitched his voice higher to indicate he was mocking Aziraphale, but you had barely noticed. This was getting to be a bit too much for you to handle. Did Aziraphale…could he actually…did he feel the same way about you that you did about him? Was it even possible? Crowley must’ve seen your confusion on you face because he softened a little.

“Look. Come back to the shop. At least just talk to him, tell him you’re not angry anymore. You’re not angry anymore, right?” He waited for you to respond. You realised that no, you weren’t angry. You missed him sorely, and if you could have him back in your life, even if everything that Crowley had told you was false, it would be more than enough to just be friends again. You shook your head. Crowley grinned at you.

“Brilliant. So, go to the shop, do whatever you two do, and I won’t have to hear about “lovely Y/N” anymore. It’s win-win-win for everyone.” He turned to leave but stopped, sighed heavily, and turned back around. “Uhm. While I’m here, uh. Aziraphale wanted me to…you know…” He cut himself off. He seemed to do that a lot for a man who had no qualms about breaking down doors and interrupting other people.

“You know how people say things that they don’t mean?” He asked, looking up at a water spot on your ceiling. You nodded. He looked down and nodded too, his lips twitching in a smile. “Good. See ya around, love!” And with that he left, the door closing behind him on his way out. You imagined that whatever had just happened was as close to an apology as you were going to get from the strange man--if that was actually what he was trying to do.

You stood and stared at the door for a good while before dropping the book on the ground and sitting heavily onto your sofa. There was so much to think about now, and your mind was absolutely buzzing. You decided that tonight was a very good night to finish off that brand-new bottle you had just bought yesterday.

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

Your palms were sweaty. Your knees were trembling slightly, but that wasn’t as bad as sweaty palms. He would feel your sweat and be disgusted and kick you out of his shop before any of your nasty oily sweat got on any of his precious books. Or, replied the competent part of your brain, you could wipe your hands on your jeans and open the damned door already. Your stomach twisted as you raised your hand and pushed on the handle and walked through the doorway.

You were greeted with the sweet sound of bells. The smell of old books and wax and something that Aziraphale carried around with him washed over you, relaxing your shoulders and planting a stupidly stupid smile on your face. You were totally in love with this man, but his bookshop came a close second. You wandered around at first, partly interested in the books and partly biding time until you had to deal with the Aziraphale in the room. It wasn’t difficult to lose yourself in all of the old volumes, and you were so particularly engrossed in one that you were completely oblivious to the man behind you on the stairs.

Aziraphale was beside himself. He had been up in his apartment brewing some tea when the sound of the front door drew him out to the shop. He’d come down the stairs, expecting to find some customer that he would have to fight tooth and nail to keep from buying one of his books but instead he’d found you. After the way you had left, in tears and clearly terrified, he had not dared to hope that he’d see you again. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He couldn’t help himself from watching over you as you walked home, performing the self-same miracle that had kept you safe last night (however, he was not responsible for you looking up at him, that was something else entirely and it had spooked him something fierce). That was all he had allowed himself to do, baring himself from calling you or visiting you, thinking that if you were so frightened of him, you would not appreciate him initiating contact before you were ready.

He ached for you. He thought of you every day; of your smile, your eyes, your intelligence, your passion for his books and your genuine desire to understand him. Over the time you were apart, he’d come to realise how much he cared for you and how much it hurt to not have you in his life. He watched, unwilling to break your concentration as you ran your fingers reverently along the books, mouthing their titles silently. You were beautiful, even with your hair in the messy bun you preferred on days you didn’t have to dress up for work, in ripped jeans and an old sweater. He couldn’t just stare at you all day, so he forced himself to break his trance and clear his throat.

Predictably, you jumped, hitting your hand on the thick wood of the bookcase. You cursed loudly, bringing your hurting hand to your chest. Panicked, Aziraphale rushed down the stairs and to your side, already reaching for your hand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear, please forgive me! I didn’t mean to startle you, I just…Oh I feel awful!” You let him take your hand in both of his, everything you had meant to say before stepping into the shop floating away as you watched Aziraphale fuss over your hand. You smiled softly at him.

“It’s okay, Azi.” His head shot up and he stared, wide eyed in wonder. You had been the only person to call him that, and he admittedly missed the sound of it while you weren’t with him. You covered his hands with your other one, squeezing gently. “It’s okay.”

He could scarcely think. Or breathe, or do anything but blink at you like the besotted fool he was. You were here, in front of him, touching him, speaking to him, looking at him like that, like perhaps you had missed him just as much as he had missed you. Out of instinct, out of an urge that had plagued him these long months that he had known you, he slowly lifted your bruising hand up to his lips, giving you plenty of time to pull away, to leave him and never set eyes on him again. When you did none of those things, he pressed a sweet, chaste kiss to your knuckles, and then another on the angry red spot that had hit the case. Your breath shuddered in your chest, and you could do nothing but stand there.

Conversations would be had, nothing to personal, nothing close to admitting whatever it was between you, but you didn’t need that. There was an understanding that life without the other person was not worth the trouble. All was truly well.

Tag List:

@chelsdub, @a-hoe-for-vanya, @lordbeezyprinceofhell, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen, @beetlebway, @dreamerkim, @petalduck

(Let me know if you want to be added. If you’ve asked before and you aren’t tagged, it means tumblr didn’t let me tag you for whatever reason, so ask me again! If you don’t want to be tagged anymore, also let me know!)

#mine #aziraphale x reader #Aziraphale #crowley #good omens #One Monstrous Miracle #michael sheen

42 notes · View notes