#originally going to name him mistletoe but i see no mistletoe so no mistletoe

[vinestaff]

[actiniumwrites]

MISTLETOE

synopsis: one year after your devastating breakup, you and neuvillette find yourselves under the mistletoe

characters: neuvillette x gn!reader

wc: 1.6k

warnings: angst to fluff, a bit of hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, mentions of breakups, the steambird being exploitative

notes: woooo first christmas fic for this year is done! this definitely could’ve been way longer, but i’ve got like four more to write and i’m pretty happy with how this turned out. this concept was also originally going to go to wriothesley but i think neuvillette suits it better :)

The first thing that makes it really set in that the holiday season has arrived in Fontaine is the pesky decorations.

Everywhere you go there seems to be some sort of string of lights, faux presents, and little snowmen. Don’t get it twisted, it isn’t like you’re some Scrooge when it comes to the holidays, but it hasn’t quite been the same ever since, well, ever since it happened.

Your shoes click and clack against the brick flooring of Fontaine’s main city floors. The same ones that are beginning to ice over from the cruel frost of winter air. And it doesn’t exclude you either, not with the way it snips at your nose and makes it hard to breathe even when you’ve barely stepped foot outside.

“Good morning!” Charlotte calls to you as you walk past her, a hand eagerly waving you down with that mischievous glint in her eyes. Part of you wants to duck behind a bush and pretend you don’t see her, but you’re better than that.

You send her an apologetic smile and pull your coat a little closer. You slow your pace a bit but don’t stop moving as you respond, “Sorry, Charlotte. I know I said I’d interview soon, but I really can’t today.”

“C’mon, the whole world wants to know the tragic holiday tale of you and Monsieur Neuvillette! Let it be a present to the subscribers of the Steam Bird!” She pushes your buttons carefully, camera ready to strike incase you change your mind or make any comment on the matter.

If you hadn’t had any reason to turn that interview down beforehand, you certainly do now.

Even though you hate the way she looks so disappointed when you walk away, it serves all of Fontaine right for meddling with people’s private business. Seriously? Did everything have to be entertainment to these people?

You scoff as you walk away, mumbling something about forgetting that interview if that’s what she wanted all along. Naturally, she doesn’t hear it, nor does she get to see your sour reaction as you desperately walk away from her and that stupid camera.

When you finally make it to the Palais Mermonia, you check in quickly and one of the Melusines, Liath, hands you a few letters that had been dropped off for you prior to your arrival. One carelessly slips from your cold hand before you can even register it happening. When you pick it up, your body had shifted ever so slightly and for a second, just a split second, you shoot a longing glance at the doors to your right. The doors that led to his office. To him.

“Is something the matter? Do those letters not belong to you?” Liath interrupts with a puzzled expression as she tilts her head.

You snap out of your thoughts and quickly scramble to compose yourself. You hold the stack of letters close to your chest as you take a step back and awkwardly laugh, “Oh uh no! I just um, got a little distracted, sorry.”

“You got distracted looking at the Iudex’s…doors?”

You hesitate, mouth agape and unsure of how to respond, “I uh, yeah I guess I was.”

“Interesting,” she says suspiciously, squinting her lilac eyes at you, “he asked about you this morning, actually.”

“He did?” you say all too fast, perking up at the mention of his name. It’s pathetic, really. You internally thank the Archons for Melusines not being all too good at understanding human behavior.

“Yes,” she answers simply, crossing her small arms one over the other.

“And um,” you push further, not realizing the way you eagerly take a step forward, “what did he say?”

“Nothing. He merely inquired when you would be coming in today.”

You can’t help the disappointment in your voice as a quiet, “Oh,” slips out. Part of you wants to ask if there was anything else, maybe some sort of expression or tone of voice she caught, but you hold yourself back.

Get it together. It’s almost been a year.

One tragic year since the two of you split. One long, tragic year since you wished you could’ve worked something out, even if it meant you could’ve had a little more time together. It was mutual, but truthfully, you never wanted him gone. You only wish you could’ve realized it at the time.

“Thank you,” you nod and walk away while trying to hide the dismay you felt. She doesn’t say anything else.

As you walk to the other end of the hall, you notice someone had placed some illuminated garland around the frame of your door and a miniature Christmas tree in the corner a few feet away. It isn’t as extravagant as the decorations they had placed around Neuvillette’s door, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

The inside is a lot less spirited and looks like your normal dreary office. You pay no mind to it as you get to work right away, trying desperately to keep the interaction between Neuvillette and Liath out of your head. You even keep the door to your office open a little bit, letting the hushed voices in the main corridor fade into white noise while you scribbled away at some documents for the court.

And it works. You don’t even notice eight hours pass until it becomes too dark to see what you’re writing. Nor do you notice that there isn’t anyone outside anymore and that the only noise filling the space is the quiet holiday tune your phonograph plays from across the room.

You sigh and set down the pen from your cramped hand. It was December 23rd. Two days before Christmas and here you were, alone and with nothing to do for the holidays but working away in a cold office.

It makes you frown the longer you think about it. So you stand quickly, shutting off the lamps in the room and placing everything away in their files for the night. Quietly, you exit the room and lock the doors behind you as you begin to head out for the night thinking that perhaps you could go and at least treat yourself to a meal or some shopping.

You don’t expect to bump into someone the moment you turn around.

“I’m so sorry!”

“My apologies.”

You both rush at the same time.

You freeze when his deep voice hits your ears and you instantly take a step backward.“Neuvillette..?” you whisper, glancing up into the familiar blue eyes that belong to the man you once called yours. The question is more to yourself than to him. Almost as if you can’t believe he’s actually standing in front of you.

He clears his throat tensely and mirrors you in taking a step back, “Sorry, I was unaware anyone else was still here.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve watched where I was going,” you say, eyes not straying from his, “and it isn’t too surprising, I mean, it isn’t like I have anything to be doing for the holidays since…nevermind.”

Neuvillette catches what you were about to say but saves you the headache of having to do any sort of explaining. Instead, he motions in front of him and pulls the keys out from his pocket, “Shall we go? It’s getting rather late. I can lock the doors behind us.”

Us. It’s weird hearing that again.

You wordlessly nod and follow his lead. Like the gentleman he always was, Neuvillette opens the door and lets you out first. You stand a few feet away by the small set of stairs as he locks it quickly. Gently, you reach your hand out from under the overhang and feel small bits of frost falling onto your hands.

“It’s snowing,” you say wistfully, admiring the delicate snowflakes falling upon your palms. Neuvillette turns to look at the sky as he walks up to stand next to you. Peeling off one of his navy blue gloves, he lets the snow reach him too.

“A rare sight for Fontaine,” he hummed with a small but warm smile on his face. Fontaine didn’t usually get cold enough to the point of snowing. It had been a long time since you had seen it either.

He turns to look at you the same time you turn to look at him. A gentle laugh falls from your lips but it stops the moment he points to something above you, “I believe this is mistletoe. I’m sure the Melusines placed this here. One of them mentioned learning about it in a book to me the other day.”

You’re surprised how conversational he is with you.

“We don’t have to,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. There’s hurt in it, and you have a hard time disguising it. It’s evident by the way his eyes soften as he looks at you.

Neuvillette exhales as he looks to the floor and then back to you, “You know I don’t like to break traditions.”

You take a step closer. He does the same.

“Are you sure? It’s been a year since…you know? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable—“

Neuvillette cuts you off by gently placing his lips on yours, interlocking eagerly. They’re warm and soft like a fireplace as they melt away the frost from your body. You reciprocate easily once you get over the initial shock, wrapping your hand around his neck to bring him in closer.

When you pull away, you feel a burning sensation in your throat and a tingling feeling in your eyes. You don’t know why, but the kiss makes you want to cry.

Neuvillette doesn’t distance himself either. Instead he places a gentle hand on your back as soon as you nod, pulling you into his affectionate embrace. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, just like you used to do, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

[btsgotjams27]

don't push your luck | knj

you’re asked to present at an important meeting, but of course, your rival has to come along for the ride.

✨ title: don't push your luck | one-shot ✨ pairing: namjoon x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope ✨ rating: pg-18 | ✨ word count: 6.4k ✨ warnings: language, joon loves to call reader a lot of pet names, suggestive language, they're both kinda jerks to one another, they've also known each other for a long time (and slept together once), both are literary agents, mentions of surgery and cancer, banter, mentions of alcohol, they sleep in the same bed, there is a small hug, reader has misconceptions of joon, did i mention angst?, reader likes to blame namjoon for her shortcomings ✨ a/n: hi--so this was originally supposed to be out for joonie's birthday lmao and here it is a few weeks later. don't be afraid to let me know what you think. i love hearing from readers.

[ MINI-SERIES MASTERLIST ] | next ~ under the mistletoe (drabble)

“Hold the door!”

A heaving sensation fills your chest and you feel out of breath. Everything you could imagine going wrong before a flight happened—your alarm wasn’t set, the Uber arrived late and hit every traffic light, security ‘needed’ to rifle through your suitcase for suspicious items, and the stupid expensive carry-on you purchased has given up on you.

“You made it just in time,” the attendant smiles and scans your plane ticket.

“Oh, thank god.”

You’re grateful to be in first class and now you can finally relax. It’s even better when you look at your row and the seat next to you is empty. There are a few glares from other passengers, but you don’t care–you’ve made it, and that’s all that matters.

When you settle into your seat, you check your phone for any last-minute work emails. The flight attendant announced the plane was ready to taxi for take-off. They ask everyone to be seated and buckled.

As you’re ready to plug your earbud in, you hear a muffled bang from behind. Peering over your shoulder, you realize you’re in the row before the bathrooms. Great, you think, that’ll be fun. You can hear clinking and clanking from the bathroom door along with someone shuffling out as the door slam shuts.

“Sir, please take your seat. We’re ready for take-off,” the flight attendant says.

The man clears his throat. “Oh, yes, of course. My seat’s right here.”

You look up to see none other than the person who has become the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. They say keep your friends close, but your enemies closer and he loved to be so close to you alright–everywhere you are to be exact.

Your jaw clenches as he plops down beside you. A few seconds later, a woman emerges from the bathroom. She brushes past the attendant, holding a card between her fingers as she peers down at Namjoon. “That was fun. Call me sometime,” she grins while walking away.

“You’re disgusting.” A shiver runs down your spine as one can assume what they were doing in there.

Namjoon gives you puppy eyes. “You’re so mean to me,” he pouts, folding his arms against his chest as he looks down. Not a split second later, he turns to you with a smirk. “I can rock your world whenever you want, angel.”

If only he could see the smoke fuming from your ears. He would never let that one time you slept with him go, would he? It was a moment of weakness you wish you could take back.

You scoff at his comment. “I can’t believe they just let anyone on airplanes now.”

His eyes rake over you. “I could say the same about you,” he retorts.

“What are you doing here, anyway?”

“What do you think I’m doing here, darling?”

Your body cringes at the stupid pet name. “Oh, I don’t know, to annoy the fuck out of me?” you say, flashing a wry smile.

“Ah, yes. That’s on my itinerary too, but you know I can’t resist an all-expenses-paid trip when it’s offered.”

This was your chance to make an impression on one of the biggest publishing houses. But with Kim Namjoon tagging along on this little trip? He will consume your thoughts because you can’t think of anything else when he’s around–plotting and scheming ways to take you down.

“Just stay out of my hair tomorrow.”

Namjoon sucks his teeth. “Wish I could, sweetheart. But, whatever Ms. Davis wants, she gets.”

A part of you wondered if Namjoon was sleeping with her to get to the top of the food chain, like the vulture he is. You shivered at the thought of the two in compromising positions. Namjoon’s college shenanigans were something that continued even into adulthood, you guessed. 

The blinking cursor in this blank Word document has been mocking you, thinking you’re a clown. But you blame Kim Namjoon. He’s pushed his seat back, legs crossed and reclined, hands behind his head as he’s laughing obnoxiously at the movie on his computer screen. Every stifled laugh and clap has you rolling your eyes.

You can’t concentrate when he’s around, and that’s how it’s always been since sophomore year of college. The countless conversations with yourself because you had to be ready with a witty remark in case he is a smart-ass about anything and everything.

It was a sweet relief when you walked across that stage to shake the president’s hand and retrieve the rolled-up paper. And when you lifted your tassel from one side to the other, you exhaled because you never had to cross paths with him again.

That is four years into your job, and who shows up sitting in your office? None other than Kim Namjoon–your old academic rival.

You’re 29. No man should have you gritting your teeth, ready to claw at him. Then again, he’s no ordinary man–more like the devil incarnate. He makes your skin crawl. His presence makes you want to jump out of a window–because he’s suffocating, and the air in your lungs doesn’t exist.

Okay–maybe you’re exaggerating. But right now, you want to spill your glass of red wine just so he’ll have a stained shirt.

Your mouth twists as you nudge the giggly goon head. He takes off the noise-canceling headphones. “What?”

“Can you zip it? I can’t concentrate,” you say, repositioning in your seat.

Namjoon snickers. “Aw baby, you weren’t able to concentrate before I even started the movie. What makes you think me turning it off will help now?”

With a click of your tongue, you’re unsure why you even bothered asking him, so you return to your blinking cursor and blank document.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into New York City….” the announcement continues.

Guess it didn’t matter, anyway. You’ve spent two hours unproductive on a flight while Namjoon lollygags. At least you’ll have time to work on your presentation in peace when you get to your hotel.

You notice the way he walks and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder-practically about to drop, and you can’t forget the stupid overcoat that’s a tad too big for his frame. The crooked black tie contrasts against the crisp white button-down, and you want to help him fix it, only to make it snug enough to choke him a bit. It’s the way his cheeks lightly push against his thick black-rimmed glasses when he smiles, and his crescent eyes disappear, then immediately he widens them. It’s the way his hair falls perfectly above his glasses, and he daintily moves it away like the unflawed prince he is.

You hate you notice all these details about Kim Namjoon, but you’ve been around him long enough to have your guard up in case he pulls any funny business.

He doesn’t even care to check in at the front desk. Instead, he runs off to the bar when he sees a beautiful woman walking the same way.

You’re third in the check-in line, and you can’t help noticing the crowd hanging out in the lobby. Everyone’s dressed as some kind of anime character. It almost makes you feel underdressed in your plain white tee that’s tucked into your jeans.

A nudge from the side causes you to catch your footing. You clench your jaw before breathing out a sigh of frustration. He’s like a fly that won’t leave you alone.

“Want a sip? I think you could use a drink,” Namjoon says, tipping his glass toward you.

“I don’t drink on business trips.”

“Damn, baby. Lighten up. One drink won’t kill you,” he raises a brow and smirks. “Maybe it’ll even warm you up to me.”

If only your eyes could shoot laser beams every time he opened his smart mouth. Facing him, you took a step toward him, pretending to pick off lint from his coat. “It’s cute you think I’d warm up to you,” you pout.

Namjoon gives a lopsided grin, licking his lips. “Don’t worry, love. I’m sure we’ll become real cozy.”

When it’s your turn at the front desk, the receptionist flashes a warm smile, asking for your information. “Is this man with you as well?”

“No,” you say.

“Yes,” Namjoon chimes in.

You roll your eyes, glaring at the man who is the bane of your existence. “No. Nope,” you say, shaking your head. “He is not with me. He needs his own room.”

The receptionist doesn’t respond. She types and clicks around on the computer, her eyes darting around the screen. “I’m sorry ma’am, but it looks like we only have one room left,” she says, avoiding your gaze.

“What do you mean there’s only one room left?” you articulate, gritting your teeth.

The receptionist clicks around her screen again. “Again, I’m so sorry, ma’am. But we’re overbooked because of the anime convention in town. We can book this room for the two of you or give you a free hotel stay for another time to compensate for the inconvenience.”

Free hotel stay for another time? It wasn’t an option at the moment. You needed this hotel room to prepare for your presentation tomorrow.

Someone cosplaying as Sailor Moon walks past you and Namjoon. His elbows are propped on the counter as he faces toward the lobby. He turns to you. “Guess we’ll just have to share,” he raises a brow and licks his lips.

“You cannot think I’ll sleep in the same bed as him. I’d rather burn in hell instead.”

Namjoon turns to the receptionist. “She’s joking. She doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed because she knows she can’t control herself around me,” he grins, holding his hand out for the key card. “We’ll take what you have, love.”

You grumble, muttering curses under your breath as you grab your things, heading toward the elevator. First, he shows up unannounced, and now you have to share a room with him. Let alone a bed? What’s next? He’ll take over your presentation, you bet.

Namjoon whistles a cheerful tune while strolling down the hallway. How is he like a ray of sunshine right now? But to you, he is like a lingering cloud ready to rain on your parade.

When he reaches the door, he turns to you, still whistling, tapping the keycard against the sensor. The door almost slams in your face. You’re struggling to keep the heavy door open while dragging in your luggage.

“Really?” You huff with irritation in your voice.

Your eyes follow him as he makes himself comfortable on the bed. He’s lying down, his legs are dangling off as his feet touch the floor. And you hope the phone screen illuminating his honey skin drops on his face. You’re vile, you know. But Namjoon’s like an itch you can’t seem to reach.

Setting down your things, you walk over to him, slotting yourself between his legs, arms folded against your chest. “What are you doing in my bed?”

He chuckles, placing the phone beside him. He props himself up on his elbows, eyes raking over you. “Waiting for you to hop on, baby,” he sneers, patting his thigh.

How are you supposed to get any work done if he’s around invading the very air you breathe?

“In your dreams, Joon. You’re sleeping on the couch.”

“Oh, baby girl. You don’t even wanna know what you do in my dreams.”

His dreams, huh? You’ve wondered how many times you’ve shown up. “Let me guess, am I strangling you?”

Namjoon sits up, pushing himself off the bed to stand. It forces you to take a step back. There’s a moment of silence before he speaks, “Actually, you’re the one who likes it, remember? Not me, princess.”

You’re inches away from him and you hope he doesn’t see you visibly gulp. It’s like everything is stripped away when Namjoon’s around. As much as you try to hide it, you hope he can’t see through your bullshit.

Clicking your tongue, you try to compose yourself, tilting your head as you gaze into those dragon eyes. “Keep dreaming, Joonie because that’s the closest you’ll ever come to fucking me.”

“Again—” he corrects you. His gaze turns dark as he scans you from head to toe. He grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Come on, love. Don’t you want another taste?”

You roll your eyes, pushing away his hand. “Another taste of Kim Namjoon?” you tut. “Please—I eat boys like you for breakfast.”

A stupid grin spreads across Namjoon’s face. His scent invades your space again, making you step back. “Well, I’ll be sure to serve you breakfast in bed tomorrow. I hear the sausage is great.”

You huff a breath, glaring at the tall, beefy man. “I swear to god, Kim Namjoon if you don’t stay on your side of the bed—there’s gonna be hell to pay!”

Namjoon puts his hands up in defeat. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep my package safe, but it's cute you think your mouth is big enough for me.” He raises a brow, gently nibbling on his bottom lip.

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Joon. Always talking a big game, but you gotta put your money where your mouth is love.” You almost retch as the last word rolls off your tongue.

The night you slept with Namjoon was a hazy one. You blame the wine that was coursing through your veins and the critique you received from your professor—it messed with your head and you wanted nothing more than to get your mind off it. Namjoon was in the right place at the right time—annoying you like always. Naturally, he wouldn’t shut up, so you shut him up. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had slept with your rival.

Walking away, you grab your bag, breathing a sigh of relief once you’re out of the room. It’s a stupid game the two of you have played since college—he riles you up, and you retaliate, but you would try your best to not let him get to you. 

You spent the last few hours sitting in the hotel’s bar, with headphones on as you clicked and clacked away at your laptop, finally getting your thoughts onto this Word document. There’s no music playing. You wanted to drown out the noise of the crowd.

As you’re facing out toward the lobby, you look up, glimpsing the bane of your existence, Kim Namjoon. You watch as he makes his way out of the hotel lobby, and now is your chance to sneak back up to the room and have some quiet for once.

When Namjoon’s out of view, you gather your things, making your way back up. As the door closes, a breath expels from your lips and you can finally breathe again.

Sitting down at the small table, your stomach growls, a reminder that you had ignored for the past hour because this presentation was more important than nourishment. You’re more than halfway finished, and your reward would be a delicious meal.

It’s nearly 9 o’clock, and your meal is nowhere in sight. The outline is finished, talking points are ready to go, but your laptop is dead, and with your luck, you forgot to pack the charger.

You want nothing more than to disappear and crawl into a hole and never come out of it. You’re ready to jump ship without a lifejacket—it’s practically what you’re doing going into this presentation. If only you had more time to prep instead of being thrown into this so last minute. Maybe you shouldn’t have told your boss you’re always ready for whatever’s thrown your way.

The rumbling in your stomach continues, but you’d rather wallow in self-deprecating thoughts than fill your belly with a delicious meal.

Why can’t things go your way for once?

As you’re sitting on the couch beside the window, a sprinkle of rain falls, and it’s perfect, actually–matching your exact mood. You place your chin against the jade-green velvet-colored couch, breathing a sigh of frustration.

How are you meant to get others to care when you're apathetic about why you got into this profession in the first place? You remember discovering your first author and how they made you kick your feet and giggle all night. The feeling of watching someone grow from a small audience into a commercial success made you love your job, and when you and an author are on the same wavelength and both so passionate about a story? You were unmatched when the stars aligned.

But this trip was a different story. You had been working with this author, but Ms. Davis asked Namjoon to chime in, and once something is in Namjoon’s hands, it’s never yours again. It was like a repeat of your college years.

So when Ms. Davis asked you to fill in for Namjoon, you jumped at the chance because you had missed this story and this author, and you hoped Namjoon didn’t distort the beautiful story and world that she had built. You get why everyone fawns over Namjoon. Admitting it crushes your soul just a tad, but he’s smart, charming, suave, and not that bad to look at. You just wished he’d let you have a win now and again. You’re tired of being second best.

When you hear a beep from the door, you sigh, throwing your head back. You don’t acknowledge your roommate for the night and instead focus on the rain droplets hitting the window. Pulling your knees toward your chest, your arms rest on them along with your head as you stare outside. You’re not in the mood to deal with Namjoon right now.

A delectable aroma fills your nose when Namjoon’s presence occupies your space. He sets something next to your feet while on the couch. You look at the box and then at him.

“What’s this?”

“You need to eat.”

“I already ate,” you lie, and your stomach growled, loud enough you’re sure Namjoon heard it too. You make a face, clenching your stomach, hoping it doesn’t do it again.

“Just eat,” he says, bending down to grab the box for you.

“Is this your way of poisoning me, so you can do the presentation tomorrow?”

Namjoon scoffs. “No, actually. It’s me being a decent human being. I saw you at the bar, and I know how you are when you’re in work mode. You forget to eat.”

There’s a fire rising in your chest, and you want nothing more than to be left alone. “I didn’t think the devil had a heart,” you quip back. It’s easier when he isn’t, makes you feel less of an ass—and so much for not being in the mood to argue.

He tuts. “Why are you always like this? Even when we were in school together. You’ve always hated me.”

Maybe it’s how everything’s been handed to him on a silver platter–like how he doesn’t have to work his ass off just to get a sliver of recognition. Maybe it’s because he could be the good guy, but he chooses otherwise. Maybe it’s because somehow he always shows up wherever you are, ready to take things from you.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“Fine, starve. I don’t even know why I tried.”

You groaned. “Can you just go away? You’re so annoying.”

“Me? Annoying? You’ve had a stick up your ass ever since you saw me on the plane, and I haven’t done shit to you. I’m here out of courtesy for our boss. What am I supposed to do? Say no?”

“Yeah! You should’ve.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “God–there’s no winning with you, is there?”

You ignore his comment, shifting in your seat, eyes focused on the rain again.

His jaw clenched as he backed off. “I was trying to be nice–break the ice, but it’s useless when I keep hitting a wall with you. See you later. I need a drink.”

Your eyes squeeze shut when the door slams. Sometimes you wonder if you’re too harsh or if you channeled your hatred toward something else, if it would benefit you more. But this was the circus of you and Namjoon–mortal rivals, nothing less, nothing more.

It’s well past midnight when you illuminate your phone for the third time. You’ve been tossing and turning, panicking about tomorrow’s presentation. Maybe you’d have to forgo using a slideshow and go off your outline. Graphic design isn’t your passion anyway because Canva was your best friend for presentation templates.

You had prepared yourself for having to share a bed with Namjoon, but you can’t help but notice that he hasn’t returned from wherever he went. You wonder if this was it–if it was the final straw for him, with you and your bitchy attitude.

As you’re on your phone, going over your outline, a beep from the door alerts you that Namjoon is back. You quickly stuff your phone underneath your pillow, turning in the opposite direction with your back facing him.

“Yeah, mom. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” His voice softens when he sees the lights are out.

An indistinct voice is heard from the other end, but you close your eyes, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Yes, I have it on my calendar and already asked for the days off. I’ll be back before your surgery.”

You feel bad listening in on his conversation and even worse when you realize his mother is having surgery.

Namjoon hums. “I love you too, Mom. I’ll see you next week. Mm–bye.”

He sets his phone down and cards his hand through his dark hair, but it softly falls back in place. You can hear him ruffling through his bag before he walks off to what you guess is the bathroom to wash up.

You turn over when there’s a sudden ache in your side. Your eyes open to see the light shining from underneath the door, and he’s pacing around as he brushes his teeth.

When the water shuts off, he opens the door, turning off the light. The darkened curtains eliminate all light sources in the room, save for the bit peeking through from the moonlight shining on him, revealing his broad shoulders and honey-skin chest. Thank god it’s dark, otherwise if Namjoon saw you ogling him, he’d have a field day. But the gawking ends when he slips on a shirt.

You shift back to the side that’s still aching and Namjoon slips under the cover, keeping his distance. You’re facing away from him, and you can’t help but hear the frustration when he huffs a breath.

Of course, the stupid ache doesn’t dissipate, and you’re back on your side, facing Namjoon. You peek an eye open. His phone is dimly lit before he turns it off, setting it on his chest. Both of his hands are laced behind his head as he stares at the ceiling, and you’re fighting the urge to say something.

What you overheard was personal, something you weren’t meant to hear. After all these years of being academic rivals and co-workers, you knew little about his life except that he was a trust fund baby and had a younger sister.

“Namjoon?” You quietly croak out.

He quickly gazes in your direction. “Sorry—did I wake you? I didn’t mean to.”

“No, I couldn’t sleep, and then I heard you come in.”

A muttered apology escapes his lips along with ‘Night,’ as he turns on his side, facing away from you.

His demeanor is different, almost as if he’s let down his guard. You’ve never seen him distraught before.

“Namjoon?”

He hums but doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Is everything okay with your mom?”

Namjoon clears his throat. “Yeah, she’s okay. At least, I hope so.”

You’re nibbling on your bottom lip. “I couldn’t help but overhear she’s having surgery?”

“Oh—yeah, we, um, recently found out she has breast cancer and has to have a mastectomy.”

“Joon,” you utter. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stammers, shifting himself into a more comfortable position. “Everything happened so fast, and I feel like I haven’t had time to process my thoughts. I’m trying my best to stay strong, you know?”

You place your hand under your cheek as you’re staring at his backside. The two of you stay silent for a moment.

“I get that,” you say, lying on your back, bringing the duvet to cover you. “Um, my mom also went through breast cancer a few years ago, if it’s any consolation, I suppose breast cancer is one of the better ones to have? If that’s such a thing—I mean, there’s a lot of research that’s gone into it, and there’s so much support out there if she wants it. So, um, yeah, just keep your head up. Your mom will be okay.”

Namjoon mumbles, “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He doesn’t turn to you, and you don’t blame him. You have been a bit of an ass to him, but you’re not made of stone—there’s a heart buried somewhere inside.

Flipping on your side, your backs are facing one another, and you hear a sniffle. Immediately, you turn back, hesitant about being in this position. In the time you’ve known Namjoon, he’s never cried in front of you. There are more sniffles, and you can hear him holding back whatever’s caught in his throat.

Your heart’s racing, your breath is slow and controlled. You shift closer to him, removing the pillow you had placed in the middle to separate the two of you.

“Joon?”

He wipes his nose and clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if I hugged you?”

Namjoon hums in agreement, and you take it upon yourself to inch closer to him. Somehow he seems so much smaller when you’re this close. You snake your arm underneath him, wrapping it around his waist, pressing your body against his. It takes a moment for him to register what’s happening, and then his hand finds yours, entwining them together.

You’ve been where he has and any kind of surgery is scary, especially when it’s a loved one. Your mind can only wander to the worst-case scenarios.

Your bodies are in sync as you can feel his chest rise and fall. But his breath is ragged and shaky. You suppose he’s fighting off any tears threatening to fall.

“You can tell me to fuck off.”

He chuckles. “No, I like this. It feels nice.”

Your mind finally settled during the night, and you could fall asleep. Namjoon’s snores were your alarm clock this morning. The weight of his arm draped over your waist. It was a familiar feeling—just like the day after you had slept with him. Only this time, all your clothes were on, and there was no accompanying headache.

Peering over your shoulder, he was still fast asleep, so this was your chance to sneak away. You were hoping to go over your presentation a few more times before your meeting today with the publisher. But as soon, as you decide to slip away, a buzzing from Namjoon’s side causes you to close your eyes and pretend like you weren’t trying to get up.

It buzzes a few times before Namjoon stirs awake, fumbling around to find his phone. “Hello?” he says in a groggy, raspy voice.

You shift away from him, snuggling underneath the duvet. The conversation is indistinct, and you can’t hear anything but Namjoon’s responses.

“Wait—” Namjoon sits up, turning away from you, his feet planted on the ground. “You want me to do what?”

He’s frustrated by whatever he was told.

“No, I can’t do that to her.” He quickly peers in your direction, and he sees you fast asleep. The voice on the other line continues along with Namjoon’s frustration. He’s rubbing his temple and sighs. “Please don’t make me do this. She already hates me as is.”

You can’t help but wonder who’s on the other line and who the ‘she’ is.

Namjoon shakes his head, and his voice quiets down. “She’s been working so hard on this presentation. I can’t just take this from her.”

Your heart sinks when you realize he’s talking about you. There’s no one else doing a presentation, and Namjoon was working with this author before they were handed back to you.

“Okay, okay. I’ll let her know,” he said dejectedly. Namjoon doesn’t even say goodbye. He’s crouched over, elbows on his knees as his head hangs low.

The soft chimes of your alarm go off. You wait a few seconds before reaching for your phone to silence it. Sitting up, you glance over at Namjoon who’s looking right at you.

“Morning. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, my alarm woke me up,” you say before flipping the duvet over. You stand, smoothing down your hair. “Big presentation today. I should get ready for the day.”

You’re ready to run to the bathroom, but Namjoon stops you. “Um, about that.”

Slowly, you turn to him. “What about it?”

Namjoon’s hands are entwined, and his thumbs fiddled out of nervousness. “Ms. Davis called and wants me to do the presentation.”

You suck in your lower lip, gently chewing on it. “But I worked on it like a madwoman last night. Why would Ms. Davis ask me to do it and then go back to asking you?”

A buzzing from your phone interrupts you. The screen flashes ‘Ms. Davis.’ You peer at Namjoon, then answer the phone. “Hello? Ms. Davis?”

“Good morning, ____. I hope you slept well.”

You hum in response.

“I know I asked you to go to New York, but now that Namjoon is there. I think it’ll be better if he does the presentation. He just has a way with words, and I think he’ll be able to land this deal, don’t you think?”

Namjoon avoids your gaze by scrolling on his phone. You remember Namjoon’s words from the day before, ‘What Ms. Davis wants, Ms. Davis gets.’

You take a moment before responding. “Why yes, Ms. Davis, I agree. Namjoon would be perfect for this presentation.”

She continues about supporting him in whatever way he needs today, and you’re seething like a teakettle that’s ready to burst. You agree with everything she says.

“Mmhm, yes. I’ll make sure he has everything he needs.”

You bid her a chipper farewell before hanging up. Your phone’s clenched in your hand, and your chest is heaving. Thoughts are running rampant—you’re ready to quit on the spot.

Licking your lips, you look at Namjoon. “Well, good luck with your presentation today. Don’t ruin it for our author and Ms. Davis.”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No–you worked hard on it. You should do it.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like you don’t want to take this from me, Joon. It’s what you’re good at. You always get your way—just like when we were in school and now even at work. No matter how hard I work for everything, you’re there to reap the reward.”

His jaw clenches. He stands, walking to you. “You’re so fucking exhausting,” he spits out. “You think I’m some guy who’s out to get you or wants the worst for you–it’s like whatever preconceived notion you’ve fabricated has overlooked the fact that I’m a pretty decent guy if you could get past whatever thing that I’ve done to tick you off.” He sighs. “I’m telling you to do the presentation, but here you are blaming me.”

The warmth from his body is scorching as he nears you–it matches the energy firing inside you. Here he is, allowing you to shoot your shot, but you’re stubborn and temperamental.

Your gaze pierces through him. “Do whatever you want, Joon. I quit.”

Quickly, you gather your things, stuffing them into your carry-on. You know how ridiculous it sounds, but Kim Namjoon tends to bring out your foolishness. You’ve had seven years of him right by your side, which was too many for you. Maybe it was time to find a private island with no form of communication to escape him.

Namjoon doesn’t stop you, he lets you leave. He knows how strong-willed you are and once you’ve decided, there’s no changing it.

You wash up in the hotel lobby’s restroom, rushing off to nowhere because well–you had quit and home was two hours away by flight and it wasn’t leaving until tonight.

Cars and buses screech to a halt along with the sounds of never-ending honking. Chattering from tourists and bicyclists whiz by your side. There’s never a dull moment so you can get your head on straight. 

A buzzing from your bag goes unnoticed because you’re too busy figuring out the next steps. You don’t know what you’re doing. Quitting, so suddenly? Was it out of spite? If you couldn’t even handle Namjoon, how would you handle the next prick that came along? 

You held your arm out, trying to hail a cab, but no one stopped. Well, it was probably the worst time to grab one, anyway. Checking your phone, you noticed a missed call and a voicemail, and it wasn’t from anyone you were expecting.

It was from Noa Skye, the author you were trying to get published.

“Hey ____. I know I’ve been working with Namjoon for the last several months, but when I heard that you’re doing the meeting with HarperCollins instead, I screamed! I know you’ll be able to pitch my book well because you love this story as much as I do. So, yeah, I just wanted to call and wish you good luck. You’re going to do great. Talk to you soon!”

Your heart sank to your stomach when you heard Noa’s voicemail. It was true–you loved her story, and you wanted the entire world to read it so they could laugh and cry along with you. Her book deserved to be on bookshelves and New York’s best-seller list.

Should you buck up the courage and walk in with your head held high? And for once, maybe Namjoon was right–that you were looking for someone to blame and he was conveniently the scapegoat.

Noa deserved better than this ongoing battle between you and Namjoon; maybe more you than him–but regardless, you needed to set aside your ego for the sake of your author.

Huffing out a deep breath, you pulled your hair back, ready to fight for this presentation.

Namjoon was typing furiously, looking through his previous notes on Noa’s novel. He wished he had spoken to you about what you had outlined to get a better grasp. You and Noa had been working on her novel for a couple of months before Namjoon came into the picture. Surely, he knew how to charm the pants off publishers, but sometimes he felt like you captured the heart of these stories better than he did.

You’re jabbing the number seven several times, encouraging the elevator doors to close. Looking at your phone, there’s half an hour before the presentation. You hoped it was enough time to sort things out with Namjoon and go over your outline.

Turning the corner, you find Namjoon sitting with a laptop. He looks up, almost relieved when he sees you, but of course, he doesn’t make it known.

“Thought you quit,” he says when you’re near.

You flash a thin smile, sitting beside him. “I never waste a moment where I can rescue you, because it looks like you need my help.” A glimpse of a nearly empty page proves your point.

In normal Namjoon fashion, he’s ready to bite back, but he holds his tongue. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “You can say ‘thanks’ and I’ll call it even.” He mumbles something indistinct and you cup your hand up to your ear. “I’m sorry. I can’t hear you over the sound of your ego.”

His shoulders slump, and he cocks his head. “Thanks, ___. I owe you one.”

Wiggling in your chair, you’re smiling proudly because this is the first genuine show of gratitude from Kim Namjoon.

“Here’s what I have. Can you tell me what you and Noa have been working on?”

Even without visuals, you felt the presentation went well and did Noa justice with her novel. Namjoon was another surprise. He didn’t interrupt, waited until you finished before adding in his two cents.

Although the presentation and trip to New York were short and sweet, it was eye-opening for you because you had been toying with the idea of opening up a literary agency. The sound of being your own boss sounded lovely.

“We did good, huh?” Namjoon says as he stands beside you.

“We?” You quirk an eyebrow.

He tilts his head. “You. You did a good job.”

You stand proud outside of the hotel’s driveway as the two of you wait for an Uber. “I know. I always save the day.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Well, have a good flight back home.”

Whipping your head back to him, your brows stitched in confusion. “Are you not going back to Chicago?”

He shakes his head. “My mom’s surgery got moved up, so I’m flying straight to Seoul. I’ll be back in Chicago in two weeks.”

“Oh,” you mumble. “I hope everything goes well.”

“Thanks,” he flashes a small smile. A car pulls up to him. “Looks like my ride's here. I’ll see you.”

Namjoon grabs his carry-on, ready to leave, but you stop him. “Joon–” He turns back around. “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. You’re right. I haven’t treated you nicely and have blamed you for a lot of things over the years, and it’s no one’s fault, but my own. I hope things go well with your mom, and if you ever need anyone to talk to, you can call me.”

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Call you, hmm?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“Just–” you groan. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t even know why I tried.”

Namjoon lets go of his carry-on and walks back to you. “I’m messing with you.” He chuckles lowly, taking another step closer to you. He lifts your chin with his forefinger, his dragon eyes gazing into yours. “It’s our thing, isn’t it? You hate me, I hate you. We find some kind of common ground, then fall in love. Isn’t that in all the books we read?”

You lick your lips and nod, pointing to yourself. “Me? Fall in love with you? Don’t push your luck, Joon.”

read 'under the mistletoe' (a don't push your luck drabble)

[lemoncrushh]

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?

Summary: Harry invites Rebecca to his Christmas party, but she overthinks too much, misinterpreting his intentions and nearly missing out on her chance to be with him on New Year's Eve.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 6528

A/N: The last of my collection! Originally written and posted in 2016. Harry x OC, written in first person. Inspired by one of my all-time favorite Ella Fitzgerald songs.

I was exhausted. I'd spent the day Christmas shopping, the first half shared with my mother up until we stopped for lunch. Then after we parted ways, I continued my hunt for the perfect gifts, checking off my list one by one. By six o'clock, I'd called it a day, pushing my door open with my shoulder as I struggled with enough bags to completely cover the foyer. I set them down with a sigh, shutting the door behind me and tiptoeing around the bags to get to my kitchen where I dropped my purse and keys. I took a gander back at the mess in the hallway, my eyelids heavy with fatigue. Making my way over, I grabbed only one of the bags, leaving the rest to be put away later.

Once in my room, I laid the bag on the bed, removing the dress I'd purchased for myself. It was a pretty, deep crimson shade with a simple A-line hem, and it cost almost as much as all the gifts I'd bought put together, but it was totally worth it.

Harry was having a Christmas party.

Harry Styles and I had gone out a handful times. I wasn't really sure if you could say we were dating. How many dates constitutes dating? One? Five? Seventeen? I never really knew the answer to that. He'd taken me to dinner a few times and to a party another, and we had a good time, at least I thought so. I just felt like it was too soon to tell how he felt about me. But I liked him. I liked him a lot.

This wasn't really a date though. This was a party he was throwing for all his friends and other people he knew. I would just be one of many to attend. Nevertheless, I was excited to be going, and this little red number I hoped would make an impression.

I hung up the dress on the hook that hung on the closet door, pressing my hand along the soft, silky fabric. I smiled to myself as I thought of Harry, the way his green eyes twinkled when he smiled and the way his soft lips felt against mine when he'd kissed me goodnight. I sincerely hoped he would kiss me again. Maybe even under the mistletoe? I chuckled to myself as I made my way back out into the hall, grabbing the rest of my bags and bringing them into the bedroom. Too tired to sort through them at the moment, I left them lined up at the foot of the bed and returned to the kitchen to get a bottle of water. That's when I heard my cell phone going off in my purse. I smiled when I saw Harry's name on the screen.

"Hi, Harry," I greeted.

"Hi, Rebecca," he said in a low tone. "How are you?"

"Tired from shopping all day, but otherwise I'm great."

"Good," Harry commented with a smile in his voice. "Just wanted to confirm that you're coming to my party tomorrow."

"Yes," I replied. "I sent the RSVP. Didn't you get it?"

"I did. I just wanted to double check personally."

"Oh," I grinned. "I feel special."

Harry chuckled. "You should. I'm really looking forward to seeing you."

I felt my cheeks stretch as my smiled widened. "Me too. Can't wait."

"See you tomorrow, love," he said softly before we disconnected.

I leaned against the kitchen counter with a sigh. He was looking forward to seeing me. Me? Or did he tell everyone that? Yes, that was probably it. He was always so cordial and charming. Still, as I went to bed that night, I couldn't help but be a tiny bit excited that he was glad I was coming.

I'd been there a good thirty minutes, and I hadn't seen him yet. Sure, the place was crowded to say the least, and he was only one face in a sea of many, but I'd started to get the feeling that my efforts in making sure my dress and makeup were perfect, and the fact that I'd taken a taxi instead of driving my own car so I wouldn't have to park so far and walk in heels, were all in vain.

After some mingling with strangers, and a few people I did know, I decided to make my way around the left side of the room to the bar. Before I could reach it, however, I felt an arm slip around my waist.

"There you are," he said.

I turned and smiled. "Here I am."

"Was beginning to think you weren't coming after all." Despite the sly smirk at the corner of his mouth, I reckoned Harry actually meant those words.

"I've been here for a while now, Harry," I teased, "you must've not been looking hard enough."

His smile grew as the tip of his tongue darted out to tap his lip. "I suppose not."

I returned his smile and gazed around the room. "Great party," I commented.

"It is now," he raised a brow and reached for my hand. "Come, I'll get you a drink."

I followed him to the bar which was set in the corner closer to the stage where a band played Christmas songs. I watched Harry as he ordered cocktails for us and then turned to look at the musicians who were currently playing a jazzy rendition of "Winter Wonderland". I twisted my hips slightly to the rhythm until I felt Harry's hand on my back again.

"Here, love," he whispered in my ear.

"Thanks," I said, reaching for the glass. As I took a sip, we made eye contact, his brows furrowing a bit, causing a crease above his nose before relaxing into a smile. Licking my lips, I smiled back.

He looked really handsome in a lustrous black suit, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone to reveal his chest, giving a peak of his tattoos and the ever-present cross pendant that hung from his neck. But more than anything, I liked the way he was looking at me. A mix of desire like he was drinking me in, and friendly admiration. A warm feeling oozed through me down to my toes, and it wasn't just due to the alcohol.

"Are you ready for Christmas?" I asked him.

"Yeah," he nodded emphatically. "Finished all my shopping early so all I had to worry about was tonight. Then on Monday I'm flying home to be with my family."

"Oh, I bet you're excited about that," I remarked cheerfully, though I felt my heart plummet to my to stomach. Of course he was going to be with his family. Still, I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. I'd sort of hoped I'd get to see him sometime during the holiday.

"Won't be gone long though," said Harry, interrupting my thoughts.

"Oh?" I raised my brows.

"Should be back a couple days after Christmas."

I smiled and nodded. So there was still hope...

The band changed it up then, starting in on a slow classic rock tune. I swayed my hips again, partly from nerves and partly because I liked the song. Harry noticed when I'd sipped the last of my cocktail through the straw, meeting only ice. He took the glass from me and set it down on the bar next to his.

"Do you wanna dance?" he asked me.

I beamed at him, nodding as I took his awaiting hand and followed him to the small area in front of the stage where other couples were dancing.

"So what are you doing for Christmas, Rebecca?" Harry's eyes focused on my face as he wrapped his arm around my waist. I felt butterflies in my stomach as we began to dance, one hand in his, the other near his shoulder, just above his chest.

"Well, I'll be with my mother on Christmas morning," I began, "and then I'm-"

"I'm sorry," Harry shook his head. "I just have to say this. I should have said it when I first saw you. But you look so beautiful."

I blinked. "Thank you."

"You look like...a Christmas angel," he commented low, a slight grin on his lips.

I felt a tiny giggle escape my throat and I knew I had to be blushing. "That's really sweet, thank you."

"You're welcome." Harry and I stared at each other for a minute until his chest rose and fell with a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I interrupted you. You were saying..."

My eyelids fluttered as I tried to remember what we were talking about. "Oh...um...Christmas morning with my mom, then we're going to my Aunt and Uncle's for dinner that evening. Lots of cousins and relatives, that sort of thing."

"Sounds lovely," he muttered.

I merely shrugged until Harry leaned closer. Releasing my hand, he brought his up to brush my hair off my shoulder. I quivered from the tiny gesture and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me. But he surprised me by pressing his cheek to mine and inhaling.

"Mmm, you smell good too," he whispered.

In my head I was laughing. Why was he smelling my hair? But I didn't make a sound. Every nerve ending in my body felt like a frayed wire about to spark at any given moment. I stood frozen except for the almost nonexistent dancing we were engaged in. I felt Harry's arm pull me closer until my body was flush against his. His hand that had pushed my hair away was now on my neck while his cheek slid against mine as he shifted to look at me. His green eyes seemed to sparkle, reflecting the Christmas lights that decorated the room.

This time I knew he was going to kiss me. When he confirmed it by tilting his head, I instinctively slipped my arms around his neck. His lips were soft, his kiss equally tender. It was over much too quickly, but I didn't complain. I heard the band finish the classic rock tune, or perhaps it was a different one. I'd been too wrapped up in Harry to notice.

"Really glad you came," he finally said.

"Yeah?" I grinned.

Harry nodded, his eyelids heavy. I cleared my throat as the band began to play their next song. I recognized it right away, one of my favorites.

When the bells all ring and the horns all blow and the couples we know are fondly kissing Will I be with you or will I be among the missing?

I felt Harry's hands slide down my back, and with a sigh, I bit my lip and stared at his handsome face as the singer continued, seemingly reading my mind.

Maybe it's much too early in the game Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same What are you doing New Year's New Year's Eve?

Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night Welcoming in the New Year New Year's Eve

"Harry," I said softly, prying my eyes from his to focus on his chest.

"Rebecca," he mimicked.

I gave a nervous chuckle, though I tried to sound nonchalant. "What are you doing New Year's Eve?"

"Well..." he began, "I'm not exactly sure yet."

I looked back up at him. "No?"

Maybe I'm crazy to suppose I'd ever be the one you chose Out of a thousand invitations You received

Harry twisted his mouth to the side like he was pondering something. I waited with bated breath, but his next words not only cut me to the quick, but made me realize he hadn't been paying attention to the lyrics like I had been.

"I have a few things up in the air. A few different parties I've been invited to."

"Oh," I said, my face falling.

"And Jeff and Glenne might be having something too," he added.

"Oh."

Harry shrugged, oblivious to my disappointment. "Haven't decided yet."

"I see," I swallowed hard and averted my gaze. Sliding my hands down his shoulders, I muttered, "Will you excuse me?"

"You okay?" Harry inquired.

"Yes," I replied, finally looking at him. "Just need to go to the ladies' room."

"Oh, sure."

I barely waited for him to release me before I bolted for the bathroom. I'd just reached the door when I heard the singer sing the final refrain.

Ah, but in case I stand one little chance Here comes the jackpot question in advance What are you doing New Year's New Year's Eve?

Rebecca, are you ok?

Are you ill? Did you leave early?

What happened??

I don't want to jump to conclusions, but if I did something, please let me know.

I'd stared at Harry's texts all night until I finally fell asleep. The final one had come through that morning, apparently before I'd even awakened. I wondered if Harry had stayed up all night.

With a sigh, I reluctantly replied.

You didn't do anything. I'm ok.

After crying for a few minutes in the ladies' room, I'd felt foolish. Other than perhaps the kiss, which was probably just a result of being caught up in the moment, I had no reason to suspect he would want to be with me for New Year's Eve. I was being ridiculous to assume and to cry over it. Wiping my tears, I snuck out of the bathroom to find him engaged in a conversation with a small group of people. I made my way around the bar to the exit and slipped out without him noticing.

I'd been home barely ten minutes when he texted me. I felt bad for not replying right away, but I was ashamed and humiliated, no fault of his. I had a bad habit of expecting people to feel the way I felt, and as a result I continuously got my heart broken.

This time, Harry surprised me by texting me back right away.

I thought we were having a good time. You left without saying goodbye.

I suddenly imagined Harry standing in the middle of the massive room, looking around for me, wondering what had happened. I felt a pang in my chest.

I'm really sorry. I just wasn't feeling well.

I'm sorry too, Rebecca. Are you ok now?

Yes.

I didn't know what else to say.

Good.

I guess he didn't either.

Feeling guilty, I tried to reassure him (or perhaps myself) with small talk (or, erm, text as the case was).

So you're leaving tomorrow?

Yes. Early. I haven't been to bed yet, was about to. So I can sleep all day.

Good plan.

He was quiet for a moment and I wondered if that was the end of the conversation. The pang in my chest had turned into a sour, nauseous feeling in my stomach. Now I really was ill.

Harry? I nervously texted.

I waited a few moments longer and didn't see the three dots come up. With a sigh, I dropped my phone on the bed beside me, plopping back onto my pillow. I stared at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. I liked Harry, a lot. And he seemed to like me too. But I'd made a mess of things. Now it felt like he was backing off.

As I wiped a tear, I suddenly heard my phone ping.

Sorry love, I was changing and getting into bed.

Oh God.

No worries. I blatantly lied. I should let you sleep.

Ok. If I don't get to talk to you, have a Merry Christmas.

I swallowed hard. Same to you.

Thanks x.

Well, I guess that was that. I was an idiot.

Christmas was lovely, I had to admit. I'd thought I'd have to fake my way through the day, since I had yet to hear from Harry. I hadn't wanted it to bother me like it had. But my mother as usual made the day special, and being with the rest of my relatives proved to be just the medicine I needed for a heavy heart.

It wasn't until I'd excused myself to use my Aunt Margie's enormous upstairs bathroom so I could have a few minutes of privacy (and to check my phone) that I'd noticed Harry had texted me earlier.

Merry Christmas Rebecca x

I looked at the time he'd sent it which was over three hours ago. Damn. It was late in England now, nearly midnight. But knowing Harry, he was still awake. If not, he would just get my message the next morning.

Merry Christmas Harry. I hope you had a great day.

I was just leaving the bathroom when my ringtone startled me.

"Hello?" I answered when I saw it was Harry.

"There's my Christmas angel," he said in a low voice. "I thought maybe you'd forgotten about me."

"Um," I giggled, taken aback. I wasn't expecting that greeting. "No, I haven't."

"Good. 'Cause I haven't forgotten you either. Did you have a good time with your family?"

"Yeah," I replied. "Still going on actually. I'm at my Aunt and Uncle's. They'll probably be breaking out the board games soon."

"Did that!" chuckled Harry. "I won."

"You won what?"

"I don't remember. I just know I won."

I laughed at his cheery disposition, wondering if perhaps he'd had a few too many egg noggs.

"I miss you, Rebecca," he confessed. "Been thinking about you since I left."

Yep, he was definitely drunk.

"Um...you have?"

"Yep. Keep thinking of you in that red dress. Dancing with you. Kissing you. Really wish you hadn't left me that night."

Any other time those words would have made me melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. But the way he slurred his words and the fact that he was across the ocean made his confession seem a little stale. I did however, notice how he'd said "me". Left "me" that night. I wasn't sure if it was a slip of the lip, but I caught it nonetheless.

"Harry, I'm-"

"I have something to ask you, Rebecca," he interrupted.

"Okay?" I sounded, my voice cracking just a bit.

"Can I see you when I get back?"

"Um, sure, I-"

"I have something I wanna give you."

"Okay," I barely managed to breathe.

"Right. Um," he chuckled. "I'm sorry, love, I've had a few glasses of wine."

"I kinda figured as much," I remarked, though in a teasing tone.

"You go have fun with your family. I'll call you, yeah?"

"Sure. Goodnight, Harry," I said.

"Goodnight, beautiful."

Harry called me two days later. He'd just returned from his holiday and wanted to see me. Unfortunately, this time I truly was ill. Probably from being around all of my relatives on Christmas, I'd somehow caught a bad cold. Harry didn't hide his disappointment.

"Damn, I really wanted to give you your gift today," he pouted.

"Harry, you didn't have to get me anything," I said.

"It's not much," he conveyed, "I just wanted you to have it."

"Maybe I'll be better in a couple days," I sniffled into the phone.

"I'm gonna be really busy then, unfortunately," he remarked.

"Oh," I groaned. "I'm sorry."

"'s okay. I'll get it to you sometime. You just get well."

If I hadn't been coughing every ten minutes and my nose hadn't been pouring, I might've felt more disappointment as well. He'd gotten me something. A gift.

I told myself I wasn't going to think too much of it. In typical Harry Styles fashion, he could have just been nice. And I noticed he wasn't flirting with me like he'd been on the phone Christmas day when he'd been drinking, calling me his Christmas angel and all that. And he certainly hadn't mentioned anything about New Year's Eve. He'd said he was going to be busy in a couple of days anyway. No. It was probably best that I was sick.

The next day after I'd managed to get out of bed and was in the kitchen in my robe making a cup of tea, my doorbell rang. Jumping, I clung my robe to my chest tightly and tiptoed to the door. My doorbell never rang. Peeking through the peephole, I saw no one. Still curious, I unlocked the door and opened it, only to see a small package on the floor. I picked it up and noticed it had my name on it, but no address, proving it hadn't been mailed but hand delivered. After looking both ways down the hall and confirming no one was there, I brought the package inside and set it on the kitchen counter.

Opening the box with my kitchen shears, careful not to cut too deep since I had no idea what was inside, I pulled out another smaller box which was wrapped in colorful Christmas tissue paper. I took a gander inside the larger box to see if there was any card or note but saw none. With great precision, I unwrapped the smaller box. As I moved it my hands, it felt light and heavy at the same time and when I finally set it back down on the counter, it made a sound.

A music box.

Ripping away the rest of the paper, I revealed a lovely rectangular wooden box with a simple cut-out of a moon and a music note on the top. I smiled as I ran my fingers over it before gently lifting the lid.

The tune, though familiar, didn't register with me at first. When it finally did, the music was over and my breath hitched in my throat. Lifting the box, I twisted the knob at the bottom to get the music to play again. I couldn't have stopped the tears if I'd tried.

The lovely music was in the tune of "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?"

Harry'd said he had something he wanted to ask me. This was it.

As I wiped my eyes, I heard my phone chime with a text.

Did you get my gift?

I laughed out loud, though I wasn't sure why.

Yes.

And?

It's lovely. Thank you.

Rebecca!

Harry.

Do I have to ask you properly? I don't wanna do it in a text.

No, I liked the way you asked me. I just can't really give you an answer right now. I'm still sick.

Then we'll have to get you well.

Ok

I have to go now. But was that a yes?

Yes.

For the second time that day, my doorbell rang. This time it was nearly 7PM and I was watching TV with my feet propped up on the recliner. And this time, when I looked through the peephole, someone was there.

"Harry," I said when I opened the door, covering my mouth with my handful of tissues. "What are you doing here? I'm sick."

"I know, I brought soup." Harry held up the covered pot that I just noticed in his hands.

"You didn't," I sighed.

"I did," he nodded before walked past me purposefully into my kitchen.

I watched as he set the pot on the stove and turned on the burner. Then he turned to me.

"Do you have a ladle?" he inquired.

I just stared at him.

"Big spoon? Ladle?" he gestured.

"Oh," I shook my head and pointed to the utensil carousel. "Yeah, right there."

Harry nodded and grabbed the ladle, lifting the lid off the pot with his other hand. He stirred the contents, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth.

"Have a seat," he ordered, pointing toward the small kitchen table.

I obliged, taking the seat nearest me so I could still look at him. He found the utensil drawer quickly, pulling out two spoons.

"Bowls?" he asked me.

I pointed to the cabinets next to his head where he retrieved two bowls and set them on the counter. Then he scooped up the soup with the ladle and filled one bowl at a time, setting one in front of me, and the other across from me.

"You're eating with me?" I looked up at him.

"Of course. What would you like to drink?"

"Water's fine," I said softly, pointing at the refrigerator. "There's bottles in the door."

Harry grabbed two bottles and sat down across from me at the table. I continued to stare at him as he blew on his hot soup.

"What?" he finally asked.

"I just...I don't know what to say."

"Don't have to say anything," he smirked. "Just eat. Get better so we can go out for New Year's."

I smiled at him, lifting my spoon.

"Harry, I-"

"Shh. Eat."

We ate in silence for a good ten minutes. I watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth with each bite, as if to test the temperature or taste before allowing his spoon to enter. I found it cute and endearing, and caught myself beaming at him a time or two.

"So I have a question now," I said, finally breaking the silence and setting my spoon in my bowl.

Harry looked up at me, licking his bottom lip. "Alright."

"Where exactly are we going? For New Year's I mean."

Harry's lips grew into a smile, his dimples dipping in his cheeks. "Ah. Well, that's actually another reason I came by." I watched as he pulled something out of his back pocket. Three somethings actually, and he laid them on the table in front of me.

"Those are what I've been invited to. Take your pick."

"Me?" I widened my eyes.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Whichever sounds like something you'd like to do. I want you to choose."

I continued to glare at him before inspecting the invitations. Two were very swanky Hollywood parties, held at some of the most glitzy and glamorous hotels, the third at the home of his friends Jeff and Glenne, whom he'd mentioned before. I swallowed hard.

"Or..." Harry added, "we could just stay here."

"Here?" I echoed.

Harry shrugged. "We don't have to go to some fancy party, Rebecca." He placed his forearms on the table and leaned forward. "I just wanna be with you."

I sniffled, grabbing the tissues from my pocket to wipe my nose. I felt horrible, and not just from my cold.

"I'm an idiot," I declared, looking down at my lap.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"I...I wasn't ill that night, Harry. I left early because...I thought you weren't interested."

"Why on earth would you think that?"

Finally lifting my head, I saw Harry's expression of confusion on his face. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"That song...started playing when we were dancing. I thought it was a sign or something. So I asked you what you were doing for New Year's Eve. And you said you didn't know."

Harry raised his brows. "I know."

"I thought...I thought that meant you...oh, I don't know what I thought it meant." I shook my head, feeling more and more like a fool.

"Rebecca," Harry grinned. "What more can I do to prove I like you?"

"Huh?" Great, now I even sounded like an idiot.

"I asked the band to play that song. I requested it specifically to be played while we were dancing."

"You...you did?"

"I was planning to ask you, but you beat me to it. It caught me off guard, so I had to play like I didn't notice the song. When you left for the bathroom, I got a plan B."

"Plan B?"

"I uh...asked the band to play "The Lady in Red" when you returned. I was gonna ask you then. But you never came back. I looked all over for you."

I hung my head in shame. "I'm so sorry," I muttered.

"Please. Don't apologize, love. I should have just asked you when you mentioned it. But...to be honest, I kind of got the feeling you were backing off."

"When?" I asked.

"Well," Harry hesitated, "the next day for one. When I texted you. I felt like something was wrong, not just that you were sick. But I was so bloody tired, I needed to get to sleep. Otherwise I would have just called and we could have talked. That's why I was glad when you finally texted me back on Christmas. I really wanted to talk to you."

"You were drunk, Harry," I scoffed.

"I was," he chuckled. "But I still meant every word I said. I missed you and I was thinking of you the entire time I was gone."

I blushed, looking down at my hands.

"I also wanted to make sure you were willing to see me when I returned," Harry continued. "I'd found that music box and I was really excited to give it to you. I reckoned that was the perfect opportunity to ask you out for New Year's Eve."

"I..I guess I'm not good at taking hints."

Harry laughed. "I guess not. 'Cause I thought I gave a lot."

I leaned my elbow on the table and rested my head in my hand. "I um...have a bad habit of reading too much into something. I suppose I was afraid of being wrong or disappointed. So I told myself you were just being nice. Even when you invited me to your Christmas party."

Harry's eyes staring directly into mine. "Rebecca, you're the person I cared the most about seeing at that party."

I widened my eyes. "Really?"

Harry smirked. "Yes. Do you think I called anybody else personally to make sure they were coming?"

If it was possible to still be breathing at that moment, I had no idea how I was. I felt the tears well in my eyes again so I threw my head back and quickly wiped them.

"I'm a first class moron," I muttered, my eyes shut tight.

"No you're not," I heard Harry say. "A little too cautious, maybe? But not a moron."

"I've just made a mess of everything," I cried. "You're so amazing, and while I got this idea in my head of kissing you at the stroke of midnight, you were thinking the same thing apparently, but I had no idea because I was getting ahead of myself while you were being romantic and I fucked it all up and-"

"Rebecca," said Harry, while I rambled.

"Then you got me that precious music box and came and brought me soup and you're so sweet, Harry, oh my god-"

"Rebecca!" Harry nearly shouted over me.

When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me, a look on his face that I couldn't quite read. My chest heaved with heavy breaths as I watched him rise from his chair and walk around the table to me. Then he surprised me by holding out his hand. Blinking, I took it and stood next to him as he pulled his phone out of his other back pocket. I watched as he tapped the screen a few times, then placed it on the table. The music began to play as Harry wrapped his arms around my waist. I smiled shyly when I recognized Ella Fitzgerald's voice come through the little speaker.

When the bells all ring and the horns all blow and the couples we know are fondly kissing Will I be with you or will I be among the missing?

"Harry," I whispered as we began to sway.

Maybe it's much too early in the game

I sighed, sliding my hands up his arms to his shoulders. Harry's eyes sparkled just as they had that night at the Christmas party. I, however, probably looked like death warmed over and was suddenly conscious of my makeup-less face and oversized t-shirt.

"You're so beautiful," declared Harry.

"No," I shook my head. Harry merely nodded in response. Then slipping one hand from my waist, he lifted it and slid it under my ear as he continued to gaze into my eyes.

Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight

His lips were on mine before I could protest. His other hand was now on the other side of my head as he cupped it gently.

"Harry," I whined between kisses. "Harry, I'm still sick. I don't...want you to get...what I have..."

"Shut up for a minute, Rebecca," he growled against my mouth. "I'm tryin' to be romantic."

With a slight giggle, I surrendered. Harry continued his soft kisses, leaving a trail across my cheek before pressing his against mine.

Ah, but in case I stand one little chance

Harry crooned in my ear, singing along to Ella.

Here comes the jackpot question in advance What are you doing New Year's New Year's Eve?

Lifting his head, he looked at me with the greenest, most sincere eyes I'd ever seen. His thumbs massaged my jaw for a moment or two before he spoke.

"So what do you say, love?"

The song had ended, but I felt like my body was still dancing.

"I say I want nothing more than to be with you. Wherever it is."

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. Harry had texted to say he was on his way. After our little dance in the kitchen, we'd decided together to attend Jeff and Glenne's party. They were his friends after all, and the atmosphere, though still somewhat fancy, would probably be a little more relaxed and informal. Plus, Harry had made a good point that their house had a lovely patio, and we could step outside if needed, unlike at a stuffy hotel ballroom. Personally, I thought he was just thinking of more ways to be romantic. I wasn't about to fight him on that.

I'd still been under the weather for another day or so, but finally trudged through the next day so I could go shopping for something to wear. Harry had said he'd love to see me in that red dress again, but I'd told him he'd already seen me in it, and most likely anybody else who had seen me at the Christmas party that would also be at this one, including Jeff and Glenne. It was too soon for repeats, I told him.

So this time I'd chosen a short gold sequined dress with a sexy black mesh section down the front. I had to admit, I looked pretty and felt amazing in it. I stepped into my black heels and twirled around, smiling at myself just as I heard the doorbell. Grabbing my matching clutch, I answered the door excitedly.

"Oh!" I exclaimed when I opened it. I hadn't been prepared for what I saw before me. He was so handsome, he took my breath away. "Wow."

Harry nodded. "Wow, indeed."

It was only then that I noticed he was eyeing me up and down, taking me all in.

"My God, Rebecca," he swallowed hard before puffing out a huge breath. "Just when I thought you couldn't get more beautiful..."

I felt the blood literally flush my face at his compliment. I suddenly felt hot and weak in the knees.

"Thank you," I barely whispered.

Locking the door behind me, I took Harry's hand and walked with him out to the awaiting car.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd been so happy. Jeff and Glenne were absolutely wonderful people and such gracious hosts. After an hour or so I was already feeling right at home and even told them I wanted their house (teasing of course, as though I could ever afford it). They both told me I looked beautiful, and once when I excused myself to go to the restroom, I turned to see Jeff pat Harry on the shoulder and heard Glenne say I was lovely.

When I returned, Harry beamed at me, sliding his arm around my waist.

"Thank God," he sighed in my ear.

"What?" I stared at him incredulously.

"Was afraid you'd run off again."

"Harry!" I scoffed, but I realized he wasn't joking. At least not entirely.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. "I swear that's not happening tonight."

"Good," he grinned. "Are you having a good time?"

I nodded emphatically. "The best." Then I leaned forward and gave him a peck on the lips.

Harry didn't leave my side all night except to use the toilet himself. He enjoyed introducing me to people, which made me feel appreciated, and I enjoyed seeing him happy and loose.

We took a stroll outside on the patio that was glowing with strings of lights. It was heavenly with the California breeze keeping the night cool, but not too cold. I stood by the railing looking out while Harry stood behind me, his hands on my hips as he nuzzled his face in my hair and down my neck.

About twenty minutes before midnight, the champagne started to get passed around so that everyone would have a glass to toast with.

"Rebecca," said Harry, raising his glass, "before the ball drops, I wanna make a little toast. To you."

"To me?" I smiled up at him.

"To us," he corrected, sliding his other hand down my arm until he captured my hand in his. Then clearing his throat, he continued. "Thank you for coming with me tonight."

"Thank you for asking me."

Harry's smile grew as he squeezed my hand. "You were my Christmas angel...if only for a bit..."

I looked down until Harry released my hand to lift my chin.

"Now you're...I'd say New Year's Eve angel but it doesn't make sense and honestly...you're even better than that."

For once I was totally speechless.

"Twenty seconds!" I heard someone call out.

Harry sighed. "To you, Rebecca. And hopefully...to us."

Not taking my eyes off his face, I clinked my glass with his and took a sip.

"To us," I finally echoed, lowering my glass.

"Ten! Nine!"

Harry's dimples dipped again as he took my glass from me and set it next to his on a nearby table.

"Six! Five!"

He grabbed me once more by the waist, pulling me flush against him, like he had when we were dancing. I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck so that my face was merely inches from his. I felt his breath as he counted along with everyone, though not loud enough for me to hear.

"Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!"

His mouth was on mine before I finished saying year. He kissed me deeply like his life depended on it, and probably mine as well. I let my fingers tangle in the curls on the back of his head as I melted into each kiss. I could hear cheering around us, but it all sounded far away. There was only Harry and me, our lips, our tongues, our moment.

When our mouths finally separated, Harry continued to stare at me until a slow grin spread across his face.

"Happy New Year," he murmured.

"Yes," I nodded, my fingers grazing his cheek. "Very happy."

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[smooth-perceval]

“Mistletoe…Really?”

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max acts grouchy, but truthfully he loves all the Christmas traditions- especially when his best friend uses mistletoe to get a kiss.

Warning: FLUFF!!!! Max being a grouch, Google translate.

Key: Y/N (Your name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 1073

A/N: I love this- I’m sorry… maybe I just love max? Who knows- but I hope you enjoy as much as I do- it’s rushed I know I know-

“Oh max- look how lovely it’s all just magical…” sighing in a bliss I found myself spinning in circles, before chasing Max up the steps catching up to him.

Two security standing outside- lists in hand, this was a private party- consisting of a few F1 drivers and a few members of each team. For example; Max, Lando, Daniel, Charles, Oscar, Pierre and Carlos.

Some mechanics attended, and some wives and some girlfriends/boyfriends of each person in this room.

Me however- I was just a friend, a friend to everyone here I guess… more Max’s friend- but a friend to all!

“Y/N?” Looking up the last few steps Max stood their hand out. “Come on, it’s already started.” Eyes wide I quickly apologised taking his hand and hopping the last steps.

“So- who’s here exactly?” Laughing a little Max glanced at me opening the doors for me to walk through first. “You know who is here…” rolling my eyes at him, I held onto the door while he walked in after.

“Yeah but I didn’t know wether there was more!” Stopping outside the two large oak doors he looked down at me, a small smile playing at his lips. “The same original people. Why you expecting someone?”

“Nope, I’m already going home with you.”

“Really?” Eyes wide slightly, he seemed to have moved closer. “Well yeah- we agreed I was staying at your house tonight right? Because it’s closer?” I tilted my head slightly, my hand against one of the doors.

“Oh right- I forgot about all that…” turning away he pushed open the other door simultaneously as I did.

“Oh-” and then the music rang through our ears.

“Y/N your here?!” Smiling wide, Lando practically ran over arms wide pulling me into a tight embrace.

“How’ve you been? Max didn’t say you were coming?-” he glanced at Max before pulling me away from him.

I quickly shot an apologetic smile at Max before linking arms with Lando.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No I asked if you was coming and he said no.”

“Oh- well… I’m here now.” Laughing a little, we both sat down at the bar ordering a drink each.

“Then I said to him are you not coming because he is just trying to keep his feelings for you away.”

“His what?!” My eyes widened, my head snapped. I couldn’t believe my ears.

“His feelings for you? I mean come on it’s quite obvious. You come in the picture as the best friend, max goes of the dating scene, spends every waking minute with you. You’re at every race- if he doesn’t see or speak to you he’s just an asshole… it’s pretty obvious. I think his crazy about you truthfully” sighing Lando took a huge gulp of his drink staring ahead of himself.

“He likes me?”

“He liked-” boom heart deflated.

“Now I think it’s love…”

“He loves me?” I toyed with the rim of my drink, looking over my shoulder once again at max who was now with Daniel, and for him to be around Daniel his normally doubled over laughing- or distracted some sort… his eyes were on me- watching me like a hawk.

“More than you know I think.” Breathing out breath I didn’t realise I was holding looking back at Lando. “I’ve been here five minutes and you’re making me look at someone completely differently.”

“Glad I could help… I could help you even more?”

“How so?” Turning more towards him I listened in. “How about confessing your own feelings?”

“No.”

“Yes”

“How?”

“Sneakily get him under the mistletoe- if he kisses you back, then that’s a win right? If he doesn’t then blame mistletoe.”

Laughing I leaned away waving my hand at him, “there’s no way that would work.”

“If it does, I take thank you’s in the form of alcohol.” Rolling my eyes at him, he patted my knee gently, “it’s Christmas what could go wrong.”

Looking back at max… I swallowed all my pride- I mean how am I supposed to not kiss him when his looking at me like that-

I never see max that way- I mean I did but I had to accept my life without him being more than a friend a long time ago- especially with every advance I made got shut down- wether he meant to or not.

And now? It’s different I felt on fire under his gaze, I felt like he was drinking me in- and like a magnet I was pulled across the room towards him. “Max can we talk quick-” nodding, his brows furrowed concerned.

His hand on the bottom of my back burned, his cologne engulfed my noses- his body radiated heat. I couldn’t… well I don’t want him away from me now, in-fact I want the other arm of his around me- pulling me in.

“What’s up?” Once behind some close doors I glanced around trying to remember where I saw the mistletoe before standing right beneath it.

“So- about the whole me staying at yours…”

“Yeah?”

“You sure you’re okay with that?” Glancing up above us I stepped back slightly, moving him a little closer now definitely underneath the mistletoe.

“Yeah I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise?” Confused he started studying my eyes.

“Y/N what is going on here?”

“What?” Wide eyed I looked back at him. “With your eyes- they’re…” looking up, I caught the small smile creeping on his face before looking back at me.

“Mistletoe…Really?”

“Oh wow would you look at that! What are the odds…” gasping a little I stepped back from max.

“Yeah would you look at that… I guess it’s tradition huh?” And before I knew it he was pulling me back in.

“It would be bad to break tradition right?”

“It really would.”

“Max are you going to kiss me?” Whispering lowly, my cheeks burned as our faces slowly moved closer.

“I was hoping to.”

“Now?”

“Right now.”

“Okay…”

“Do you want to kiss me Y/N?”

“Shh…” huffing I gripped onto his collar pulling him in and finally our lips connected, and everything we both felt for each other over the years was poured into that one kiss, and just like I prayed he wrapped both arms around me pulling my body flush against his.

“God I love you, have done for too long.” Mumbling against my lips he smiled happily.

“I’m glad I’ve waited too long for your love.”

“I’ve waited longer.”

[jellyfishvibes]

Khdr Keyblade thoughts So, as we know, dr characters are based on norse gods and i'm assume they keyblade they all wield is like starlight in that its a training keyblade that is a keychain given and not 'their' keyblade so based on said norse mythology dr character keyblade names/ideas

Odin - Odins named weapon is Gungnir, a spear that had runes carved into its tip, made by dwarves known as the Sons of Ivaldi

Xehanort - This man is not norse Eraqus - Neither is this guy

Hermod - Hermod has very little about him in the mythology that i found, he is a messenger and rides down to Hel and back to try and revive Baldr? He is given two rings a cloak to give to other people on that trip? got a theme of 9 going on with ring for 9 days to get to Hel and being given a ring that duplicates itself every 9 days making 8 new identical copies of itself, idk not alot here

Urd - One of the three Norns, specifically the one of the past, i would love to see a matching keyblade trio for these three (Skuld being the future and the one of the present usually being anglicized as Verdandi, and i don't think she has appeared yet) Strings of fate and weaving themes are big for all three along with the world tree Yggdrasil, but Urd specifically has a big connection to the well they water the tree with and live near, as its called the Well of Urd

Vor - From my quick research she might be the same as a valkyrie Geiravor who wields a spear but also has the winged horse imagery you could draw on, also i have found her name might mean oath and has associations with oaths and contracts, so something similar to oathkeeper maybe? something like Oathbreaker?

Bragi - (you know, before the plot happened) Is the god of poetry and also possibly music? also he has a rune on his tongue? he is characterized as the court poet of the aesir and something poetry based would fit, maybe in the form of a kenning as there is a dialogue where he explains them, you could also pull from the blood of Kvasir which is said to be the 'mead of poetry', also a great place to put a poetic irony name

Baldr - A Vala predicts his death, Vali's birth and the killing of Hoder and Frigg crying as a result, He has bad dreams and Odin goes to Hel to talk to a Vala about it, he forces her tell him who kills Baldr, who will avenge him and who will weep for him, He is given Draupnir (The ring that duplicates) on his funeral pire and Odin whispered something in his ear before hes pushed out to sea, a majority of him in the mythology is just about that one time he died, the easy target is something mistletoe themed but i am leaning more towards the 'everyone needed to weep to bring him back' theming, maybe with the 9 rings idk, the only name ideas i have are something along the lines of whispers or secrets to allude to the Odin secret thing, Murmured Mystery or something like that? (Fun fact his heartless is called Hringhorn, which is the name of Baldrs ship in mythology, making the final boss turns into a boat theme in Xehanorts life originate from Baldr)

Heimdall - Gjallarhorn is the horn that heralds the beginning of ragnarok and Gulltoppr is his golden mained horse, He is the protector of the Bifrost and has foresight and keen senses, notably his eyesight and hearing, there is a theory that Gjallarhorn could be translated as 'horn of the river Gjoll' a river that seperates the living and the dead, and also that the poem telling of where the horn is my not be referring to it but to Heimdall's hearing which may mean there could be a mirror between him and Odin, as Odin leaves his eye in Mimir's well for knowledge, Heimdall may have left his ear there, he is ripe for a foresight-didn't see his death coming poetic irony name and beyond that the god is very associated with gold so probably a good aspect to design with

Helgi - Helgi is a hero in mythology who falls in love with and marrys a valkyrie, Sigrun, due to slaying Hunding he gets the moniker 'Hunding's bane', he is killed by Sigrun's brother and there is a story after his death where he appears one night ontop of his burial mound to Sigrun, His hair covered with frost, his body covered with blood and his hands are wet, which he explains are becuase of all the tears she has shed for him, they spend the night together and he has to leave in the morning, she spend the rest of her life waiting for him again, which i latch onto cause a frost themed weapon for him would be a really cool contrast to his very classic norse hero design, also more easy valkyrie imagery to pull from aswell, having some thematic kind of match between his and Sigurn's keyblades would be cool

Hoder - The blind god who accidentally killed Baldr with something made of mistletoe (its said Loki made the mistletoe int a spear but Hoder shoots it like is an arrow so???), so also easy mistltoe imagery, he is also killed by Vali to avenge Baldr, depending on the version Hoder is either completely innocent and tricked into it by Loki or much less innocent and more active in the murder, one of the lines of translated poetry i latched onto was His hands he washed not, his hair he combed not, Till he bore to the bale-blaze Baldr's foe. A keyblade name along the lines of blood on hands/unable to wash away the sin would fit kh Hoder, or even a subversion of Destiny's Embrace, as she is kinda stuck in the fate of both her and her brothers death but goes along with it (she swung first) something like Cradle of Fate, or Destiny's Grasp, something that leans a little more negative (*Hoder and Kairi parallels in here about being tangled in fate and have destinys entwined with death, The Kai in Kairi means death after all)

Sigrun - Sigrun is a Valkyrie, she first meets Helgi when leading 9 other Valkyrie, his story happens, her brother tells him of what he did to Helgi and she curses him, forcing him to live in the woods and survive of carrion and she dies early of sadness and is reborn again as a Valkyrie, Her name aslo apparently means Victory Rune, valkyrie imagery? idk there isnt alot here, probably something matching Helgi tho (Its cute that in the like 1 cutscene we have of her and Helgi they pair up without words and seem to be besties/ always standing near each other)

Vala - A Vala was a norse woman with the ability to fortell the future and perform sorcery, often translated as "seeress", "prophetess", "staff bearer", "wise woman" and "sorceress", and the staff bearer in that group intrigues me, they are often connected to Freyja, thers not alot of stuff to work with beyond magic themeing unless you'd pice a specific Vala

Vali - Vali was a son of Odin and Baldrs brother, after Baldrs death he was born and grew to become an adult in one day to avenge him by killing Hoder and binding Loki in the entrails of his son, hes the god of flight and to symbolize this he has a cloak made of raven feathers that when raised looks like wings, very omen of death he is, theres not very much more about him beyond his role in the story of Baldrs death, this line Then did Váli | slaughter bonds twist Makes me think a name along the lines of Bond Breaker or Twist of Bonds might fit (i will note that hes the one who warns the group Hoder has disappeared, leading to Sigurn's, Helgi's and Heimdall's deaths by malificents hands)

Vidar - A god associated with vengance, he is fated in ragnarok to kill Fenrir to avenge his fathers, Odin's, death, he has the moniker "The Silent God" and it is mentioned that he is as powerful as Thor and that he has thick shoes? called 'the possessor of the iron shoe' which might be in reference to the description of him killing Fenrir putting emphisis on him using his foot to hold the dogs lower jaw open, fenrir is already a keyblade in the series and making his keyblade a match for it might be fun, Iron Soul or something along those lines might be a good name for it, i would fully lean into the shoe sole-soul pun for a name, and making a silver blade to Helgi's gold might parallel the kingdom key/kingdom key d duo, idk why they would parallel but like thats where my mind immedately goes (its interesting that both Vali and Vidar are fated to survive ragnarok and are in the group that survive malifcents attack, and the four in the attack are fated to die in mythology, Hoder obviously, Heimdall to Loki in ragnarok and Sigurn and Helgi both in their story, and possibly ragnarok cause i think the valkyrie and warriors of valhalla both fight in it)

[milkemim]

Day 15: Mistletoe

WC: 841

Link to all chapters

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

In England’s house, there was a small early celebration that he had invited his brothers, America and Canada, along with [Name] to. Currently, America was giggling and pulling Canada along to pull a prank on England.

“Yo, Canada bro, this is gonna be epic!” America smiles and drags him to the living room door frame, “I have the best idea ever!”

“I don’t have a good feeling about this, America…” Canada weakly protests, but it goes unheard by America.

America pulls out a mistletoe from his pocket and arranges it back to not be so creased, “On the way here I bought this while stopping to get a snack for the journey and I immediately knew what I had to do when I saw it on the shelf.”

Canada sighs, “Right… I think England will be on your case pretty quickly, though…”

“Haha, that’s fine! I just care about his reaction.” America laughed and kicked a chair under the door frame to string it up. “This is the only reason I’m thankful he’s making food.”

Canada watched as America made quick work of tying the plastic mistletoe on the doorframe, deciding not to comment on his antics. America quickly got down when he was done and moved the chair back to its original place to avoid any suspicion.

“Okay, let’s go see how he’s doing and avoid any unidentified matter being served tonight!” America looks at Canada and smiles, starting to walk to the kitchen.

Canada quickly follows. “I really hope you have an excuse for him as to why we were gone for so long.”

“Don’t worry, bro, I’ve already thought about it!” America smiles heroically as they arrive to the kitchen. “Yo, we’re back!”

“Good. I’m almost done here, since [Name] arrived and helped me out.” England says, focusing on his delicacy.

“What? [Name]’s here already?! I didn’t hear them come in..” America looks around the kitchen.

“They came in through the backdoor.” England glances at the two brothers and explains.

“Cool! Anyway, let me lend you a hand, old man!” America rolls up his sleeves and washes his hands.

Canada joins [Name] in the living room while England and America focus on making the food. The two chat and listen in on the other pair’s arguing when it gets particularly loud until all the meals are done and everyone joins in. America runs around the house to get to the living room the long way to avoid getting stuck under the mistletoe, under the excuse that he needed to burn off extra energy. Of course, England believed it and, unsuspectingly, took the normal, shorter route to the living room.

Just as England was about to walk into the living room, America made it to the other end and yelled, “Halt! Stop right there, mister!”

“Huh? What’s wrong now?” England furrowed his brows and looked around the room, for any sign of threat. All eyes in the room were on America.

“Look up!” America points with a smirk.

England looks above him to see the cheap mistletoe on the door frame, then turns to glare at America, unamused. “I don’t appreciate you destroying my private property,” he says and moves to walk to the living room.

America quickly runs up in front of him. “That’s against the rules! You can’t move until you get someone to kiss you,” he says, placing a hand on England’s chest.

“Oh, will you bugger off! I’m not playing your stupid, childish games!” England tries to push past him, “Besides, if I did that, I’d be stuck here forever, because I’m definitely not kissing you!” He yells.

“Oh, right… I didn’t think that far…” America places a hand on his chin to think. His intention was to just slightly annoy England, but he didn’t really think it through. “Well, you have to kiss someone. But who…”

“No! I don’t have to kiss anyone!” England protests.

“How about a hug then! I’ll give you a hug to free you.” America smiles at him, determined.

“I’m not stuck! You just need to get out of the way! And I am not hugging you under any circumstances!”

Canada and [Name] watch the two banter for a while before feeling more annoyed than amused.

“Guys, please…” Canada quietly tries to resolve the situation. “Let’s not fight during Christmas time.”

“I’ll hug England, if it means the both of you will lower the volume,” [Name] stands up and walks over.

“That works!” America smiles and steps aside.

England sighs and puts his hands on his hips, “This is ridiculous… But I’d rather hug you than America,” he opens his arms.

[Name] gives him a quick tight hug. “Now you’re free!”

The rest of the night goes as smoothly as it could go. They played board games and watched a movie or two and ate decent food.

While leaving England’s house, America turns to Canada. “So, did you record any of that mistletoe stuff? I’m totally gonna post it all over everywhere!”

“I didn’t.”

“What! You betrayed the plan!”

[duskspring]

A Holiday and Teasing - Young Nihil/Young Sister Imperator

Domestic December - Day 26

Summary: Nihil’s ghoul Water recounts the story of how the old man and Sister Imperator got together

Content (do let me know if I forgot anything!): Storytelling, young Nihil and Imperator, stress, yelling, making up

Word count: ~2.2k

“I will never understand those two.” Rain thought out loud as he observed the scene from afar.

Old man Nihil had been running around all day trying to get Sister Imperator’s attention. She’d mostly avoided him, too busy trying to get the ministry sorted for Yule. The one second he had her attention, his frail, shaking arm had halfway raised a mistletoe, his eyebrows moving up in suggestion.

Sister had scoffed and immediately walked off. Of course, that didn’t stop the him in the slightest, simply continuing his pursuit of the disinterested woman.

“I don’t know why he even bothers trying.” Cirrus responded.

“Because it worked…” Oh, that was a rare voice to hear, “Once upon a time.”

The two ghouls whipped their heads around to find… no one standing there. Rain slowly turned in a circle, trying to locate the source of the voice, until Cirrus softly slapped his shoulder and pointed upwards to the wall.

Sitting on a ledge, very close to the ceiling, sat Water. The original Water that is, part of Nihil’s old band. He still wore his silver baby mask from all those decades ago, taken care of to remain in pristine condition.

He jumped down, gracefully landing before the others, “This Yule it will be 46 years.”

“46 years since what?” Rain asked for clarification.

“Since those two got together. Kind of.”

“Those two dated?!” Cirrus exclaimed, although somehow this context made certain interactions seem a lot more logical.

“Sister doesn’t like dwelling on it.” The old ghoul swiped a hand through his hair, “But they really were something…”

December 14, 1967

Sister walked through the halls in hurried steps, desperately trying to see everything go as planned.

“Why aren’t the candles up yet, Angela? How far along are you?!” She stressed.

“I’m just a little bit behind.” Sister Angela cringed at herself, knowing it was in fact more than just a little bit.

Sister sighed, unsure of how much more she could take. Her very first real leadership position and stuff was already going wrong left and right.

“Why the long face, bella?” The arms around her waist didn’t help ground her the way Nihil had probably intended.

She shoved them off of her, “Please, Papa. I don’t have time for this.” Her steps already continued further down the hall.

Nihil speedwalked around her, walking backwards in the same direction so he could keep facing her, “You never have time for me.” He pouted.

“I’m a busy woman. And you’re much too demanding.” She snapped. It was that, and the fact that his reputation preceded him. For Lucifer’s sake, he had three children with three different women already, she didn’t need to become number four.

“Suora,” He stopped her in her tracks with his hands on her shoulders. She knew he was serious when he didn’t call her some pet name, “You deserve a break as well. Sit down, have a glass of wine with me.”

She considered it, if only for a moment. She had been running herself very thin. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, maybe a break would be for the be-

She startled, turning around in a flash at the loud crashing sound coming from one of the rooms in the hall. She hurried inside, Nihil already forgotten behind her.

“Gerald, are you alright?” She hurried to the brother’s side, laid out on the floor next to a toppled over ladder and various, luckily plastic and not glass, decorations spread along the floor.

“I’ll be fine.” He tried to argue, but his wrist quickly gave out underneath him when he tried pushing himself up.

“Absolutely not. You’re going to the infirmary.” She helped pull Gerald up, supporting him as the went on their way, “Excuse me.” She shooed Nihil when he stood near frozen in the way.

“This sounds exactly like them nowadays.” Cirrus interrupted the story.

“Yeah, no, she’s right.” Rain agreed.

“I’m trying to build up to something here.” Water argued, displeased at the distraction.

“Build up, schmuild up. Can we at least get something to drink if you’re gonna take so long?” She asked.

Water looked at her quite the same way an old man would look at a little girl; completely appalled by what he perceived as a lack of manners, “Fine.” He relented, desperate to finish the story now that he’d started.

December 20, 1967

With brother Gerald unable to continue decorating with a broken wrist, Sister had assigned herself to pick up the slack. It wasn’t an easy task, considering she still had to run around the entire abbey to check up on everything and everyone else in the meantime, Yule drawing ever closer.

Every time one of the knots she was tying didn’t work out properly made her want to burst out into tears. She’d give anything for it all to just be done already.

The sudden sound of a wolf whistle nearly made her fall off the ladder Gerald style, “It’s looking great from down here.” Nihil kept the ladder steady between his hands, content with the view he got up Sister’s skirt.

She was about to thank him, before looking down and realizing just where his attention was at, quickly scampering down to smack him over the back of the head.

“Have some Satan forsaken manners. I’m a lady.” She scolded him.

“You are? I almost didn’t notice under all those layers of stress.” He kept a hand above his eyes, as if trying to spot something in the far distance.

She wasn’t in the mood to put up with him, grabbing her clipboard with various checklists and wordlessly starting her rounds through the abbey. Anything to get away from him.

“Come on now, cara. Don't be like that,” He jogged after her again, “I’m just teasing a bit.”

“Nihil!” She turned around in a hurry, screaming louder than she probably ever had before. The other people in the hall all froze and gasped, unable to comprehend the disrespect of her calling him by his name, “I am trying my very fucking best to get everything done in time! All you have ever done is be a distraction to me and get in my way! Please, please for the love of all that is unholy, fuck off! I’m not going to sleep with you, I don’t want anything to do with you! Do your job and let me do mine!”

Had she not fully reached her limit, Sister may have noticed the genuine shock sculpted into his features. Nihil didn’t dare to move, let alone let out so much as a whisper. Never in his life had he been yelled at like this by anyone other than his father.

His voice was barely audible when he finally did gather the strength to say something, “Suora… I’m sor-“ But she was already off again, still trying to pour some semblance of focus into her tasks.

People stared. First at her, but soon, afraid to meet her gaze and wrath, they only looked at him. They wondered if he would retaliate. As Papa, he had every right to excommunicate her on the spot. But he did nothing. He stayed in place and watched after her even as she rounded the corner.

“This still just sounds negative.” Rain was the one who interjected this time, blowing cool air over his cup of tea, “I thought you said the old man’s tricks worked at some point.”

“I’m getting there!” Water banged his fists on the table frustratedly, causing some of his and Cirrus’ drinks to spill onto the table.

“Well, get to it.” Cirrus complained again.

December 21, 1967

Sister’s self loathing was at an all time high as she looked into the mirror. Her makeup was streaked and blurry from tears.

If everything was not done before tonight, surely she’d lose all credibility before she even fully had it. Any hope for a promotion or higher function in the clergy could surely be kissed goodbye.

She took a deep breath, telling herself empty motivational words before reapplying her makeup and getting ready to step out.

Her priority was now to make sure everyone under her leadership got everything done first. If push came to shove she could blame Gerald’s unfinished room on his injury. It was the last thing on her long list of worries for now.

Getting around to everyone, she had to say she was pleasantly surprised by the progress. Some teams had already been on, or even ahead of schedule, but nearly all areas seemed to be in order at that point.

Not only that, but everyone seemed in much higher spirits. They looked less stressed themselves, less exhausted and overworked. Perhaps it was just the Yule spirit getting to everyone.

“Angela, you did a stellar job with this.” Sister complimented, eyes gleaming with the reflection of the candles that decorated every hallway.

“I couldn’t possibly take all the credit. The ghouls were a great help.” She smiled gratefully.

“Ghouls?” Sister asked. She didn’t know the ghouls would get involved, they never did.

“Yeah, didn’t you send them?” Angela’s voice slowed down over the course of the sentence, clearly just as confused.

Without another word, Sister made her way through all the impeccably decorated halls and rooms, trying desperately to find the one she knew would be responsible. Just about the only person with any power over the ghouls.

“Nihil…” It was her voice’s turn to be soft. As she rounded the corner into the room that had been Gerald’s, then her responsibility, she met the sight of the whole band.

Air was floating up to finally complete decorations on the chandelier, no ladder needed. Fire went around to light every candle that illuminated the room. Water was on the floor, tinkering with the aforementioned ladder to make sure it wouldn’t as easily topple down in the future. Earth was using a broom to clear up the floor. And finally, Nihil, who sat on the floor next to Water, unable to help other than holding onto the removed screws and handing the ghoul any tools from the toolbox he asked for.

“Sister.” He stood up in a hurry as soon as he heard her, quickly glancing around for a place he could put the screws. Without looking up, Water offered his own hand for storage, which Nihil immediately accepted.

He quickly walked to Sister, steps slowing down the closer he got to leave some distance between them.

They looked at each other for a moment. Although Sister had meant some parts of her speech yesterday, she hadn’t wanted to berate Nihil quite like she did. A lot of it had come from a place of stress.

Nihil, meanwhile, had felt terrible. He knew he could be a bit of an asshole sometimes, and he usually didn’t care. But seeing just how deep underneath her skin he’d gotten was like a wake up call. He clearly took things too far.

“I’m sorry.” They said simultaneously. Nihil smiled softly at that, while Sister was still stuck in place.

“I shouldn’t have yelle-“ She started.

“No, no, suora. That was my own fault. I, uhm…” He wanted to go into it further, apologize with his whole chest, fall to the floor and beg forgiveness, maybe. But alas, his ego prevented him from any further admissions of guilt, “I tried to make it up to you.” He gestured towards the work being done in the room, stepping a little closer in the hope that she’d let him.

“Thank you for that.” Finally Sister didn’t back away, allowing herself to smile as well. That was until she saw Nihil’s eyes dart up, quickly trying to snatch something away.

“Stupid,” She caught a glimpse of the mistletoe between his fingers, “The ghouls put that there.” He spoke fast, trying to defend himself, before promptly throwing the plant away behind him.

She shut him up quickly with a simple peck on his cheek.

“Thanks again,” Her smile widened ever so slightly, “I take it you’ll finish up in here, I still need to run past the kitchens.” Without waiting for a response she was already off.

Whether she realized it at the time or not, that simple gesture was enough for Nihil to latch onto her. Although he tried being more helpful along the way, this event was ultimately the start of what brought them together.

“And that’s the story of why to this day we’re always stuck doing the hard and tedious jobs.” Water finally got to end his own story.

The other two sat with all the new information for a second, letting it all sink in.

“So why are they back at square one now?” Rain wondered.

Water sighed, though not at the question but the memories, “Papa has always been an immovable object. He does not change, no matter how much effort he puts into fooling people he has. It took less than two years for her to find out the hard way.”

“But he still wants her, specifically?” Cirrus questioned further.

“Hey, I’m not inside his brain. I can’t explain everything he does. I always just assumed there was something different about her. Perhaps it's more of a hard-to-get game for him.”

Silence overtook the table again, the younger ghouls unsure of what to do with their newfound knowledge.

[My Main Masterlist | Domestic December Masterlist]

[blossysartgobrr]

Pandora, formally known as Present (OC), moment 2024!

Closeups and info are under the cut!

More info can be found on her ToyHouse!

NAME: Pandora Noel

NICKNAME: Pandora

AGE: 21 (story takes place spring 2023)

BIRTHDAY: 12/25/2001

HEIGHT: 5'10 (177.8 cm)

GENDER: Cis woman (she/her)

SPECIES: Human

ORIGIN: East Coast, USA

ETHNICITY: Caucasian

SISTERS: Mistletoe (eldest) and Snow (middle)

ORIENTATION: Omnisexual

OCCUPATION: Theatre undergrad with communications minor (3rd year of college); works at an animal shelter

STATUS: Single

MBTI: ISFJ-T (Defender)

LIKES

Animals, especially bunnies (was obsessed with Snow's bunny, Fat-Butt)

Her current self

Acting

Forcing herself out of her comfort zone

DISLIKES

How over protective Mistletoe is

Seeing blood

Her younger (under 18) self

Being replaced by Bailey

TRIVIA

Changed her name to Pandora when she turned 18.

Has a fake it till you make it mentality.

Wanted to be a vet but couldn't stand to see blood, especially innocent animals' blood.

She knows about Bea and Mistletoe's summer fling and plans on telling Bloom everything.

PERSONALITY

Confident . Outgoing . Independent . Mature

Don't let her fool you, she may act outgoing and confident but she's still shy and scared on the inside. She's been working on it, though.

STORY

"Okay, so...I used to be this really shy, introverted, and scared child. But then everything changed the day I turned 18. I dumped my boyfriend of 2 years that day due to him wanting to keep our relationship a secret for some reason. After having several conversations with my sisters about it, I finally dumped the guy and haven't looked back since. I also changed my name to Pandora that day to represent a new era...and also because my old name was just stupid. Seriously, what were my parents thinking when they named me Present??? Speaking of my sisters, I kinda miss having Snow around since Mistletoe and I constantly argue due to her still babying me. At least Snow isn't too far away... But speaking of Mistletoe specifically, I know that she and Bea hooked up last summer and I am going to tell Bloom everything. 'Why?' Because I can and it'll get Mistletoe off my back, at least for a little bit. And my friendship with Bea was already going downhill anyway once she developed a crush on Bailey so I don't have much to lose. Um...I love acting and hope I can get a decent acting gig once I'm out of college next year. I truly love my parents despite their questionable naming system, but I cannot handle living with Mistletoe after graduation. I could live with Snow but, truthfully, I do not need to hear her and Rain going at it EVER again. I've heard too much too many times..."

[foodandfolklore]

Santa Claus: Paganism or Commercialism

Probably one of the most recognizable icons of Western Winter holidays is Santa Claus. A plump man in a red coat with long white beard who gives presents to well behaved children on Christmas. But where did this character come from? I'm sure many reading will point out old Saint Nick as the origin. Others will draw comparisons to the Holly King and Green man. And there's at lest a few people convinced the whole thing is just a way to get us to buy more during the holidays.

Creation of Santa Claus is largely credited to Clement Clarke Moore, the Author of The Night Before Christmas. He says he combined traits of Saint Nicholas and his Dutch Handyman for descriptors. He's also the one who gave Santa his flying sleigh and reindeer. But he still called the character Saint Nicholas. The Name Santa Claus is thanks to Dutch immigrants who came to America. They called Saint Nicholas 'Sinterklass' which caught on as Santa Claus.

So who is Saint Nicholas that this Santa Claus is apparently based on? Well according to the stories, during the early Christianization of Rome, there was a man was extreme wealth and generosity named Nicholas. He would see people in need and not hesitate to help, expecting nothing in return. He also had a power to know who was guilty and who was innocent. Nicholas became a Bishop and after death, ascended to be a Saint. He is the patron Saint of Charity and Children.

So now he's got some kick ass Saint powers, and can keep on doing cool stuff. And the stories say he did. He would make more food to have enough to go around. Keep people safe. Heal children who died too soon. People loved this guy! They would celebrate him on December 6th; the day of his supposed passing. Children would leave their shoes outside hoping for a treat from the passing Saint.

Okay so, clearly Santa Claus has Christian Roots. Why do people think he's pagan. Well, for a few centuries, things start to get a little muddled. See, the Romans were like a cultural and religious melting pot. So over the thousand years of Saint Nick doing his thing, Christmas started absorbing aspects of other holidays like Saturnalia and Winter Solstice; even changing the date to better line up with these other events. And if you look at some depictions of art from before the Red suit was standard, Santa can sometimes be seen in greens with holly and mistletoe. So If the only information you have is 'Christmas Celebrations are based on Pagan Traditions' it's not a big mental leap to assume Santa is one of those Pagan Traditions.

But the truth of the matter is we didn't have a visual standard until the past 100 years or so. Saint Nick and Winter gift giving exploded in popularity all over Europe, but after a thousand years, baby Jesus took over. Maybe to put the focus back on him? But that didn't seem to remain popular, so a new, meaner version of Nicholas appeared. And I'm not talking about Krampus. His appearance and mannerisms varied from region to region. He would flog or kidnap disruptive children. It was basically all punishment, no reward. Not very magical.

Then people come to the new World of America. A new life, a new outlook, a new way to raise children. They brought with them their story of Saint Nick, now called Santa Claus, and Started telling stories about how he was sequestered away. Far north in the north pole, a place uninhabitable by normal people. He lives there, making toys with his elves, and flies around the world in a single night delivering toys to all the nice children. I never really thought about it much, but the story of Santa Claus really is a Uniquely American Folk Tale.

One last thing; how did Santa Claus Get his signature look? As I mentioned, the story the Night Before Christmas is What cements Santa as Fat, Jolly, and with a full white beard. But he mentions nothing of the colour of his clothes. Many people think that the red suit is from Coca-Cola ads, as before that he was always dressed in green. While I think it's true the Coca-Cola ads help popularize red as Santa's Color, they were far from the first to choose red. Add to that, if red was not selected, there's no guarantee he would be green. When people started illustrating the story The Night Before Christmas, lots of versions of Santa were made. One where he was in all yellow. Another where he was of short stature and brown. Icey blues. All kinds of ideas. Doing research, it seems Thomas Nast was the one who established the look of Santa. He dressed him in red to complement is rosy red nose, gave his coat white trim, a black belt, and topped it off with the signature Santa Hat.

Now that Santa had a Standard uniform, kids could recognize him instantly. Malls started to set up areas where you could take your kids to see Santa, encouraging you to go to shopping. Products need only draw a Santa on their package and boom, limited seasonal item. Sometimes it feel like Santa Claus was Created just to sell us stuff. But he wasn't. He wasn't even created to guilt us into a faith. He was created to bring a little magic a wonder into the holiday season. Regardless of what holiday you may be celebrating. Santa doesn't care. Santa only cares that if you are kind, that kindness should be rewarded.

[miss-morgans-lover]

💜About Me💜

My name is Abi or Vesper (online name) and I run this multifandom blog under the user: miss-morgans-lover.

The main fandoms you'll see are:

Twilight

Power Rangers Dino Charge

Marvel

Harry Potter (usually Marauders Era)

9-1-1/ 9-1-1 Lone Star

Omar Rudberg

My blog is not limited to these however, I am in many fandoms and will post/repost about them.

You will find I have a obsession love for a character called Kendall Morgan and the ship Kendall/Shelby from Power Rangers Dino Charge as well as Omar Rudberg. They inspired my user, blog theme, pfp and banner. They are my favourite things.

My favourite colour is purple (I wonder why), I am Bi and Genderfluid (They/She/He pronouns). I am a fanfic writer, cosplayer and editor, along with this blog. I play on Roblox (mostly Royale High).

Me and a few irl friends are also writing our own web comic, which I may share about on here, but most will be on the books account @the-spirit-academy which is run by me and an irl friend. There is nothing on it atm, but there will be at some point in the near future (hopefully).

I also have a RWRB/ Young Royals side blog (history--huh) this is the intro post for it

Discord:

I run a multi random discord server, which has a number of fandoms already added, and so much more room for more. So if you find yourself wanting a community for a fandom you are in and can't find one, dm me, either, it will already be there, or can be. It is called Anything and Everything, my user is wolfstarlover127, but dm me for the link.

There is also another server I am in called Twiwhores. It is run by @denalilily and @bellasdumptruckass and is a Twilight server, so if that's what you want, dm them and we'd be more than happy for you to join us.

Fanfic:

I write fanfic on multiple sites for a few different fandoms that I am in.

I currently have fics posted for:

Twilight

Harry Potter

Power Rangers Dino Charge

Wolfblood/Twilight Crossover

Twilight ones are all on Wattpad except one, but there is an intention to move them all to AO3 as well.

The Next Step

{UF} - Unfinished

Secrets Series:

Secrets (Bella/Jasper)

Secrets 2 (Bella/Jasper/Angela) {UF}

Secrets (Rewrite) (Bella/Jasper) {UF}

True Mates? (Rosella) (Twilight/Wolfblood Crossover) {UF}

Underneath The Mistletoe (Jess/Bella) Mistletoe kiss, they pretend to hate eachother, but are actually in love. (This one is on AO3 only)

Harry Potter fics are just on Wattpad, but same intentions are there to move them to AO3 as well:

Moonstar (Wolfstar's child fic) set in Golden Trio Era, OC called Hope Libra Lupin Black {UF}

Vampire Love Story (Ginny/Hermione) Twilight inspired vampires but set in HP universe. Set at the start of Order Of The Phoenix when Hermione first arrives. Oneshot.

Hogwarts Coven AU A Marauder Era and Golden Trio Era AU. It is a supernatural spy AU set within the normal HP universe. There's Werewolves, Veelas and Vampires (inspired by twilight but not the same). {UF}

Power Rangers fanfic is on Wattpad, Tumblr and AO3, though, all is on AO3, and unless it says otherwise, assume it's just on AO3

Kendall/Shelby Vampire AU Oneshots - AO3 vers - PRDC

Kendall/Shelby Vampire AU Oneshots - Wattpad Vers - PRDC

Kendall/Shelby Vampire AU Oneshots - Tumblr Vers - PRDC

Vamp!Kendall AU Context

She's His Pt1

She's his Pt 2

Why Him?/Temptation - Kendall/Shelby, PRDC, Rated M, Vamp AU, was originally going to be in the oneshot book, but then I decided it fits better as it's own. Shelby and Tyler go on a date, it hurts Kendall in a way, she wants to be in Tyler's place, but Riley helps her realise that it's ok. Then she rants about how pretty Shelby looked.

The Honourary Rangers - PRDC, Rated Teen, based on a hc, I (and a few others on the discord) have, that the science geeks of the team made new morphers that allowed certain people to become temporary rangers. It stemmed from my interest in the morphing grid and Kendall being the mentor, then grew. The main question is: who becomes an honorary ranger? {UF}

Mine - Kendall/Shelby, PRDC, Rated M, Vamp AU, main fic in the vamp au, it explores their relationship from Kendall's POV, while also exploring what it's like for her doing what she does whilst being a vampire, and whilst having her past {UF}

1 Time Kaylee Helped Kendall and 1 Time Kendall Helped Kaylee - PRDC, Kendall and Kaylee often hole themselves up in their work. This means they can forget to do things like eat and rest. This is one time Kaylee helped Kendall and one time Kendall helped Kaylee.

The Next Step fanfic is just on AO3. I currently have 2 fics, and they both have Gisanda at the center

Night Training - Ivan POV, PRDC, it's Ivan's first training session with them, but it's one of Kendall's surprise nighttime ones. She likes to keep them on their toes

Too Much Labour - Kendal POV, PRDC, Rated M, Kendall breaks down due to all the pressure she's put under as the ranger's mentor/scientist, and being a ranger herself. She proceeds to tell Keeper how she feels. Complete with Chase + Kendall siblingism.

Feels So Good, But Hurts So Bad - Kendall/Heckyl, PRDC, Rated M, A series of oneshots inspired by Troublemaker by Olly Murs, which follows them both as they figure out how they feel about each other pre and post reveal (of Heckyl + Snide), and what they do about it {UF}

Repeated Control - Tommy POV, PRDT, Rated M, Set After Trent comes out of the spell and Tommy out of the amber. Tommy offers support and tells him about the time he was in his position.

You Have A Therapist? - Kendall POV, PRDC, Rated M, The ranger team find out Kendal has a therapist, and a little about why

Awakening - Tommy/Adam, Adam POV, PR Zeo, Rated T, After Adam’s dream about his friends being supernatural creatures, one specific part won’t leave his head, causing him to realise some feelings. Aka: That whole scene between Vampire!Tommy and Adam was gay as fuck, so I had to write a fic post that.

Rewind (Amanda Vs Ultra Elite) - Gisanda (Giselle/Amanda), Rated Teen, Set during S9 (writing started pre S9 release), what if, Amanda had been keeping an eye on Lucien as much as she could, she knew his schemes weren't over. When she hears about Ultra Elite being shut down, she knows what's likely happening. What will she do, when there is a risk of a rewind, and history repeating itself. (Side note: Amanda is traumatised from her past home life and time at Elite)

Tiktok:

Tell The Story (The Reality Of Elite) - Amanda POV, Rated Set post S2, but pre S3. Giselle walks into a dance studio at school to practice, but sees Amanda crying in a corner. Giselle, who had gained feelings for Amanda that hadn’t left her, even after the betrayal, helped Amanda calm down. This led to Amanda revealing what had made her so upset, and, in turn, the reality of Elite.

Young Royals fanfic is just on AO3, I currently only have one fic

Your Jumper, My Colour - Wilhelm/Simon, Simon POV, Wille finds out Simon has kept his jumper.

I make multifandom edits on tiktok for multiple different fandoms including:

Marvel

Harry Potter

Power Rangers Dino Charge

The Next Step

Twilight

Royale High (occasionally)

MLP EG

Username: abi.edits127

[themculibrary]

Secret Santa Masterlist

A Christmas For You And Me (ao3) - idiotwithdreams steve/tony, bucky/clint, bruce/natasha, jane/thor G, 5k

Summary: Forced into playing Secret Santa with the rest of the Avengers, Tony Stark falls into a state of panic as he struggles to find the perfect gift for the super soldier that he is not in love with, no matter what Pepper says, it's just a crush. Really.

Meanwhile, Steve Rogers has decided that Christmas is the time for love and confessions, and has the perfect present in mind for his favorite genius. Little does he know that said genius possesses the ability to misinterpret perfect gifts so differently.

Christmas fluff with idiot boys in love. Ft. Pepper and Natasha being tired of all the angsty pining while Bucky loves enjoying Steve's misery!

all I want for Christmas (is you) (ao3) - grydo2life clint/phil T, 5k

Summary: Or, 5 presents Clint gave Phil, and 1 that Phil gave back.

Christmas wishes and so on (ao3) - naturegirlrocks loki/tony N/R, 4k

Summary: Tony wants to give Loki a gift, but it seems like he might get one instead.

Luck of the Draw (ao3) - xxDustNight88 steve/tony, bucky/natasha, wanda/vision T, 2k

Summary: When Tony encourages the Avengers to participate in a Secret Santa gift exchange, he discovers that the luck of the draw plays a larger part in the festivities than originally planned.

MistleTony (ao3) - catemonsterq darcy/tony E, 39k

Summary: It's Secret Santa time at Avengers Tower and Darcy finds herself with a conundrum- of course, she would wind up pulling Tony Stark's name from the hat. What exactly does one get a genius, billionaire, playboy....especially when that person also happens to be your crush? Darcy has a month to find the perfect present without kissing him senseless. Hint: she doesn't make it.

Secret Santa (ao3) - within_a_rustic_cafe steve/tony E, 6k

Summary: It's Christmastime and the Avengers decide to participate in Secret Santa! When Steve gets Tony for his Secret Santa, the super solider knows just the perfect thing to get his genius boyfriend.

Secret Santa (ao3) - IlluminateMe maria/natasha T, 2k

Summary: The Avengers do secret Santa. What could go wrong?

Secret Santa at Stark Tower (ao3) - Heartithateyou steve/tony G, 693

Summary: The Avengers decide to do a secret santa, which allows for other secrets to come to light.

Secret Santa Steve (ao3) - therunawaypen steve/tony G, 621

Summary: The Avengers have a Secret Santa, and Steve manages to pull Tony's name. What do you get for the man who can, and often does, buy himself whatever he wants?

Sorry About All The Sex Toys (ao3) - lola381pce clint/phil T, 2k

Summary: Clint draws Coulson’s name for the Avengers Secret Santa which in itself isn’t a bad thing. It’s just unfortunate he uses the same wrapping paper for Coulson’s gift as he does for Natasha’s. Regrettably, he doesn’t realise his mistake until the Secret Santa gift reveals on Christmas Eve with all the Avengers.

The 12 Days of Steve's Secret Santa (ao3) - pizzagirl darcy/steve T, 12k

Summary: A Secret Santa gift exchange is organized, with the aid of JARVIS, to include the Avengers & friends. Everyone is pretty excited with their 'Santees', but none moreso than Darcy. She hopes to pull off her ambitious ideas. Steve's gifts leave him amused and slightly confused, especially when he sees who is delivering them.

The Gift of Forever (ao3) - RoseAmaranth tony/stephen G, 1k

Summary: It's Secret Santa time for the Avengers! Tony has something up his sleeve, but does he have the courage to go through with it?

the little things we don't say out loud (ao3) - JBS_Forever T, 3k

Summary: In which Peter is Tony's secret Santa, and it is, in fact, that bad.

The Mistletoe Kiss Polka (ao3) - RayShippouUchiha bucky/tony M, 14k

Summary: “That’s a damn shame,” Tony says, voice practically dripping with insincerity. He has zero interest in playing whatever party game Wilson’s come up with in order to try and boost team morale.

Tony already knows how well that particular situation would likely play out if he was involved.

“They engaged in the game known as Secret Santa,” FRIDAY keeps going. “Since you were not available the last name in the pot was to be assigned to you automatically.”

“Of course it was,” Tony waves a hand absently in the air around him. “Look FRI you can pick whatever for whoever I’m getting saddled with and be done with it. Just … throw some money at them or something. I don’t actually care.”

“Actually, Boss,” FRIDAY cuts in. “I believe you’re going to want to handle this one on your own.”

The Perfect Gift (ao3) - stormchasersteve steve/thor G, 138

Summary: Steve receives Thor's name in the avengers' Secret Santa

this christmas, I’ll give you my heart (ao3) - buckyismybicycle sam/bucky T, 6k

Summary: Bucky and Sam draw each other’s names for Secret Santa - neither of them know what to get and enlist the help of Nat and Joaquin. Cue a lot of misunderstandings.

[cha-melodius]

15. Wild Card “Seeing your ex at the Christmas party and realising that you still love each other and the break up was over a huge misunderstanding” for Napoleon/Illya and au. or 8. “My holiday dish is better than your holiday dish.” and Napoleon/Illya or Napoleon/Illya/Gaby. Either canon or au idm.

(Thanks for the prompt! I have to laugh a little though since my original post was about writing holiday fluff, and this is fairly unrelenting angst until the end, but that's exes fics for you. I have to apologize because I completely missed the "AU" part of the wild card prompt, and ended up writing this in canon-setting. Sorry about that, I hope you still enjoy it!)

Love is a Deserter

Read it on AO3 (T, 3.2k)

It’s just a party like any other. Lift an invite (thanks to light fingers), case the venue thoroughly (especially for quick exits), work the room (laugh at unfunny jokes, flirt with septuagenarians, try not to get groped by the same), pocket a few valuables (that part’s omitted from the mission report), get the intel (another wealthy socialite dabbling in world politics—when will they learn?). It’s not first or fifth or even the fiftieth that he’s worked since things fell apart. It shouldn’t feel any different.

And yet it does. Blame the twinkling lights, blame the glittering tree, blame the jaunty carols, blame the mistletoe that he has to make sure he avoids getting caught under at all costs. Napoleon was always fond of Christmas, until last year. Now it’s all just kind of nauseating.

“Remind me why I have to be here again?” he mutters through clenched teeth into his earpiece as he extracts himself from another utterly mind-numbing conversation.

“You know you’re better at these things than me,” Gaby tells him, her voice distorted through the new comms. “And someone has to sit out here and document every person going in the door tonight, so here we are.”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit, my dear,” Napoleon says. “I’ve seen you charm the socks off the most uncooperative mark.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Doesn’t have to get me anywhere. I’m not the one stuck in there.”

Napoleon sighs. “You could have taken pity on me. Tonight, at least.”

“I seem to remember someone saying, and I quote, ‘I don’t want anyone’s fucking pity,’” she counters. Then, “Ugh, that guy.”

“Who?”

“De Clare. He was at that thing in Monaco. Remember— oh.”

Napoleon had been sick in Monaco, a year and a half ago, and confined to a bed. He hadn’t worked the thing, which by all accounts had been excessive in the extreme. Illya had stolen a bottle of champagne and brought it back for him, pretending like the gesture didn’t mean anything. The three of them had drunk it that night, laughing with the effervescence of expensive bubbly, Illya crawling into the bed next to him as Gaby sat cross-legged at their feet; a few days later, Illya had come down with the same illness. Napoleon remembers little about the actual mission, and certainly nothing about some upper-class twit named De Clare.

“He won’t know me,” he mutters, because there’s nothing else to say.

He should probably do another circuit. See what kind of conversations he can eavesdrop on, what nuggets of information he can pull out of people eager to boast about their latest acquisitions. First, though, he needs more whiskey. When he asks for a triple the bartender gives him a look like he can somehow read all of Napoleon’s miseries on his face, and maybe he can. Bartenders are special like that. Napoleon ends up asking him to top up the glass with soda water, as if that will somehow make it better. The bartender clearly sees right through him.

Gaby is now babbling away about the arriving guests, filling his ear with snarky commentary on gowns and hairstyles. He appreciates the attempt at taking his mind off things, truly, but it’s not really working. Not tonight. Somehow, at this stupid party that should mean nothing, everything reminds Napoleon of him. So much so that Napoleon’s starting to actually see him, standing across the room chatting with a countess. Maybe he shouldn’t drink anymore tonight.

Wait.

“Fuck,” Napoleon swears emphatically.

His tumbler, slick with condensation, slips out of his fingers and hits the floor, shattering into a million pieces and drawing the attention of every pair of eyes in the room. Including his.

Napoleon ducks behind a passing earl and practically dives out of the room into the corridor. The soles of his shoes, slick with spilt whiskey, slip on the tile floor as he scrambles away, desperate to put as much space between him and the ballroom as possible. Not that he can actually leave, they haven’t gotten all the intel they need yet, but he needs a fucking minute.

“Solo! What the fuck is going on?” Gaby demands. She’s definitely been yelling at him for a solid thirty seconds now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he accuses, and Christ, that can’t be his voice. It sounds too ragged. Too broken. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here?”

“What? Who?”

“Him. Fuck. What are the fucking KGB doing here?”

Gaby is silent for a long moment, long enough he thinks the comms might have failed. “If he’s there, he didn’t come in the front door,” she says finally, her voice oddly flat.

“Of course he didn’t,” Napoleon huffs. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“I don’t know, your job?” she retorts. “You’re a spy, Solo. You know how to handle an enemy agent.”

There’s a coldness to her tone now, unmistakable even through the static, which is fair. He didn’t just leave Napoleon when he left. Gaby was just better at hiding how it affected her, better at powering through and carrying on as if nothing had changed. It was Napoleon who had given too much of himself over to another person, been too shattered when their partner had walked away with it, and she’d been the only one with any hope of picking up the pieces that were left behind.

“He’s not an enemy,” he hears himself say, as if someone else has control of his mouth.

“Well you can’t be sure he’s an ally.”

“Gaby—”

“I know, Napoleon,” she says, more gently. “I wish it were me in there instead of you.”

Napoleon lets out a shaky laugh. “Not sure that’d be a good thing, for the mission’s sake. Or for his.”

“You’re not wrong there.” There’s a long beat of silence, and then she ventures, “How are you doing?”

“Not great,” he admits. His back is pressed against the wall in a small alcove, palms flat at his sides as he tries to calm his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I knew this was a possibility. Thought I’d be able to handle it, at this point.” Napoleon drags a hand over his face. “I should be able to. He was right. I am a terrible spy.”

“Fuck that,” she says emphatically. “Stop feeling fucking sorry for yourself. You’re the CIA’s best. You’re UNCLE’s best. And you know I don’t blow smoke up anyone’s ass. If anyone can walk back in there, look his ex in the eye and fucking smile like it means nothing, it’s you.”

No one could ever accuse Gaby of being soft, but she had her own brand of tender tough love. It was the only thing that had gotten him through those dark months, and he’s pretty sure it’s the only thing that will get him through tonight.

“Besides,” she adds, “you know how much he always hated your masks. What better fuck you?”

She has a point. Put on a mask, bury the pain. Don’t let him know he broke you. Don’t give him that satisfaction.

He can do this.

Napoleon straightens up and smooths down the front of his suit, gratified that it’s a particularly fine cut. Apart from the dark circles under his eyes, the hollowness that lurks there that he hasn’t been able to shake, he knows he looks good. He can sell this: the story that he’s unaffected. That it never meant more to him than it did to his partner (which was apparently not much, in the end). He adjusts his tie, takes a deep breath, strides purposefully down the hall and through the door into the ballroom… and walks right into Illya.

“Cowboy?” Illya says, surprised, like he hadn’t seen Napoleon was there minutes ago.

Fuck, he looks good. Of course he does, he was always the most beautiful man Napoleon had ever seen, but Napoleon would have been lying if he hadn’t hoped to see some sign that Illya had been having a rough go of it. Some evidence that this had affected him even a tiny bit as much as it had affected Napoleon. Ok, maybe he looks a little thinner than he had, a little more worn around the edges, but that could be anything. The KGB are almost certainly running him ragged, like they always did before.

“Hello, Kuryakin,” Napoleon replies coolly. He’s not using nicknames tonight, and first names… well, it had taken them years to come around to those. That’s not what they are to each other anymore. Illya flinches subtly at that, though, which is definitely not what he expected. “I’d wager you’re here for the same reason that we are.”

“Probably,” Illya allows. He shifts uncomfortably. “I— how are you?”

Napoleon can’t believe what he’s hearing. How is he? How is he? Illya can’t be fucking serious. (It’s gratifying that Gaby also squawks about that in his ear.) “Are we really going to do this? Here?”

“Ok. Do you want to…?” Illya asks, gesturing toward the door Napoleon had just come through.

“I’d rather not do it at all, actually,” Napoleon says curtly. He moves to brush past Illya and rejoin the party, but Illya catches him by the arm and holds fast. “Do you mind?” Napoleon huffs, trying and failing to pull away from him.

“Yes, I do,” Illya retorts, scowling at him. “Can we not be civil?”

“Civil,” Napoleon scoffs. “I’ve been nothing but civil, Peril.” The name slips out, and Napoleon just manages to keep himself from reacting. He sets his jaw and glares up at Illya, hating every inch of their height difference tonight. “You’re the one who apparently wants to turn this into an altercation.”

That at least makes Illya let go of him. “I just want to talk,” he pleads.

“Tell him no,” Gaby hisses in Napoleon’s ear. “He’s just working you. Trying to figure out what you already know.”

“He can try,” Napoleon says to her, which makes Illya frown in confusion for a moment before he realizes what is going on.

“Is that Gaby?” he asks. “Is she here?”

“Tell him to fuck off,” Gaby puts in vehemently.

Napoleon almost smiles at that. She always fiercely protective of them. Until Illya got on the wrong side of it. However, there are certain conversations she doesn’t need to be party to, and this is one of them. “I appreciate the advice, Gabs, I do, but I’m gonna have to turn you off right now.”

“Solo, don’t—” she starts, but he reaches up and presses the button on the side of the earpiece, silencing the device.

“Does that mean we can talk?” Illya asks. He sounds almost hopeful. Napoleon tells himself he’s imagining it.

“I’m not sure what there is to say. You made things pretty clear when you left.”

“I did not choose to leave, Cowboy,” Illya grinds out. “I was recalled.”

“Which you didn’t fight,” Napoleon points out.

Illya’s mouth opens and closes again, his expression growing stormier by the second. He takes a step toward the door, then turns back and gestures impatiently when Napoleon doesn’t follow. Which Napoleon absolutely should not do. He should listen to Gaby, go back to the party, to the mission, and forget he ever ran into Illya here. He’s always been terrible at doing what he should do when it comes to Illya Kuryakin, though.

“How was I supposed to fight this?” Illya hisses when they’re standing in the empty corridor.

Napoleon throws up his hands in frustration. “I don’t know! I thought— I thought we’d figure something out. Fuck, Illya,” he says, his voice breaking over his name. “We always figured it out.”

“There is no figuring out KGB,” Illya snarls as he paces across the narrow width of the hallway. “There is only being hunted. Never seeing family, or friends. Running forever.”

“I would have gone with you,” Napoleon confesses, the words spilling out of him without his leave. It brings Illya to a halt.

“What?”

“If you had asked me to run away with you. I would have,” Napoleon tells him. Fucking might as well. Not like he has any more dignity to lose. “Whatever you chose—run, fight—I would have been by your side every step of the way, no matter what. But that’s not what you wanted.”

“What I wanted? What I—” Illya scoffs incredulously, his voice clipping off in a growl. He takes a step closer, nearly looming over Napoleon now. “You have no idea what I wanted.”

“Yeah, and who’s fault was that?” Napoleon snaps. He lets out a laugh—bitter, humorless—and pastes on an insincere and conciliatory smile. “Look, I was the idiot for thinking that you’d ever choose me over Mother Russia. That’s on me.”

For some reason, Illya looks stunned by that. “Is that what you think happened?”

“Yeah, because that’s what happened. You walked away without a backward glance.”

Illya lets out a frustrated huff and takes a few steps away again, dragging a hand over his face before he looks back at Napoleon. “I left to protect you. Because if I did not, you are first ones they would come for,” he says, which is as unsurprising as it is infuriating. Of course he’d try to play that card.

“Christ, not that bullshit,” Napoleon nearly groans. “At least have the decency of being honest. You can just say that you never loved me. Not like I loved you, anyway.”

“That is untrue,” Illya gasps, and he looks so stricken, so utterly horrified by the idea, that for a moment Napoleon almost believes him.

Almost.

“Well it certainly seemed that way when you left,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Illya takes a deep breath and screws his eyes shut, like he can’t quite look this admission in the face. “I walked away the way I did because I thought it would be easier if you hated me.”

A beat of silence stretches out, and then another, as Napoleon waits for something else that would make this statement comprehensible. Surely that can’t be all of it. Finally, he prompts, “How does that make any sense?”

Illya opens his eyes. With a start, Napoleon realizes that there are tears glittering in his long lashes, illuminated by the dim light of the hallway sconces. “I knew I would never stop loving you,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper, and almost inaudible over the sounds of the party from within the ballroom. “I could only try to bury it, knowing I would live with that ache for the rest of my life.”

Napoleon’s heart does something complicated in his chest as his breath catches in his throat. He wants so, so badly for it to be true, even if it can’t be. He did believe Illya loved him, once, but then Illya had pulled away. Put up all the walls that Napoleon had spent years tearing down, like what they had meant nothing. Then he left on Christmas Eve without even really saying goodbye, not in any way that mattered. The only way Napoleon could make sense of it was to assume that he’d read too much into Illya’s feelings all along, because surely someone who loved him wouldn’t be able to do that to him. To them.

“But you…” Illya continues, “you always had plenty of friends. Lovers. I thought… if you hated me, you could move on faster. Find someone who is more suited to you. Whose love does not put you in danger with every heartbeat.”

“That is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Napoleon blurts, because it is. How Illya could think he’d just get over him, like he was nothing more than one of the convenient strangers Napoleon used to entertain, he has no fucking clue. He cautiously crosses the distance between them, until he’s standing right in Illya’s space again, staring up at him. “Losing you didn’t make me hate you. It destroyed me,” he says. Illya flinches so hard at that that his eyes briefly close again. “If you think I could ever come close to loving someone else the way I love you…”

“Napoleon,” Illya breathes shakily. One of his hands comes up to hover near Napoleon’s jaw, almost but not quite touching him, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed anymore. “I am so sorry.”

“Why now? After all this time, why tell me?” Napoleon manages through the knot lodged in his throat. “Here, in the middle of a fucking mission?”

“Because I saw you here tonight and I had to know,” Illya tells him. “I thought if I could just see that you were fine—happy, even—I would know I made correct decision.”

“Well I’m not,” Napoleon says bluntly. He might love the asshole, but it’s going to take a lot more than one little apology for him to get over this. “Sorry I couldn’t give you the absolution you wanted.”

“What I wanted,” Illya murmurs, “was only ever you, Cowboy.”

“So fucking have me,” Napoleon insists. “Ask me to help you get out, and I will. We all will. Well, Gaby might take a bit to come around again,” he adds as an aside, “but I promise you, we’ll find a way.”

“You cannot promise—”

“I promise, Peril. We will. Ask me.”

He’s expecting more arguing. Even at their best, they could hardly do anything without a lot more back and forth than that. Instead, Illya’s hand finds its home on his cheek and he pulls Napoleon into a kiss. It’s soft and tentative, his lips moving chastely against Napoleon’s, but it somehow manages to be more breathtaking than their fiercest, most passionate embraces. Maybe it’s because Napoleon was sure he’d never have this again, never again feel Illya’s lips on his, never be held like he’s something fragile and unspeakably precious.

Illya pulls back from the kiss but presses their foreheads together, heedless of the fact that anyone might come through the door and see them. “I do not know if it is possible to get out,” he says, his voice thick, “but I do know that going on without you will eventually kill me. So I have no choice except to try. But I will need your help.”

“You have it,” Napoleon says immediately, emphatically. “Anything you need, it’s yours. Always. Just… promise me you won’t leave me like that again.”

“I swear. Not while there is breath left in my body,” Illya says, and this time, Napoleon believes him.

There’s no question that it will be a herculean uphill battle. There won’t be any easy answers, and it could be months, years, before they’re out of the woods. But right now, with Illya’s arms around him again, he feels invincible. He feels like he could take on the KGB singlehandedly and win (ok, ok, maybe that’s a bit far-fetched). It doesn’t matter. Right now, as he stares up into Illya’s eyes and Illya stares back with a expression of unfiltered, unrestrained, unconditional love, he can believe that anything is possible.

[behind-the-screen-of-bangtan]

Jung Kook (정국)

Real name:  전정국 (Jeon Jungkook)

Birth date: 01 September 1997

Home city: Busan

Studio name: Golden closet

Instagram account (he deleted it)

BU character: Jeon JungKook

BT21 character: Cooky

(src)

Biography

For a more complete biography, you can check these resources: 

Biography from the volume 8 of the Japan Official Fanclub magazine (trans by Jungkook Times and by @ynkkbaragi for the timeline)

Jung Kook has also shared tidbits of his daily life:

[VLOG] Muscle Rabbit's Exercise Diary (2019)

CAMPING VLOG (2022)

Birthday albums: 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019, 2020, 2021, 2022, 2023, 2024

Recommendations

Music

Spotify playlist

You can find Youtube playlists of the songs he shared on Spotify until now, on VLive/Weverse and on Twitter or during interviews.

Books/Movies/Series/Anime

Google sheet of his recommendations

Solo activity

Music (discography)

Rap Monster & 정국 - “Like A Star (cover)” (2013)

“일하는 중 (cover)” (working) (2014)

“SOFA (cover)“ (2014)

Jimin & Jung Kook  - “Christmas Day” (Origin. Justin Bieber - Mistletoe, 2014)

“Lost Stars“ (2015)

“PAPER HEARTS(cover)” (gift for Christmas) 2015)

랩몬스터 & 정국 - “Fools (COVER)” (2015)

“Nothing Like Us (cover)” (2016)

RM & JK - “알아요 (I know)” (for the Festa, 2016)

“Purpose (cover)” (2016)

“We don't talk anymore“ (2017)

Jimin, JK - “We don't talk anymore” (gift for the Festa, 2017)

“So Far Away (SUGA, 진, 정국 Ver.)”  (gift for the Festa, 2017)

“2U (cover)" (2017)

“Oh Holy Night (cover)" (for Christmas, 2017)

“그때 헤어지면 돼 (cover)” (only then) (2018)

“이런 엔딩 (cover)” (Ver 2)(2019)

“Euphoria (DJ Swivel Forever Mix)” (gift for the Festa, 2019)

“Still With You” (gift for the Festa, 2020)

“10000 Hours (cover)” (2020)

Jung Kook (정국) - ”Stay Alive (Prod. SUGA of BTS)” (OST for the 7FATES: CHAKHO webcomic, 2022)

”My You” (gift for the Festa, 2022)

--- Chapter 2 ---

Charlie Puth - “Left And Right” (feat. Jung Kook of BTS) (2022)

“Dreamers” (2022) (official song for the FIFA World Cup Qatar 2022)

“Seven” feat. Latto (2023) (see this post)

“3D” feat. Jack Harlow (2023) (see this post)

The Kid Laroi, Jung Kook, Central Cee - “Too Much”

GOLDEN (2023) (see this post)

“Never Let Go” (gift for the Festa, 2024)

For more details about the songs that don’t have their own post, I listed all the info I had here. For Chapter 2 songs, please check here.

Shows

Mr. Mon’s 1minute English (2015, guest)

episode 1 “Pardon”

episode 2 “July”

Directing

“Life Goes On” MV

Art

Album cover of “Seesaw X I NEED U REMIX” (2018)

Magazines

DAZED Fall: interview, bonus

VOGUE KOREA 2023 October issue: tweets, interview (in Korean)

Brand endorsement

Global ambassador for Calvin Klein (2023): teaser tweet, first campaign tweets, second campaign tweets, Youtube videos, Rolling Stone article, VOGUE digital cover (Hong Kong) and interview (Korea), Episode of the Calvin Klein Commercial Shoot Sketch, third campaign tweets, tweets for Jung Kook’s performance in Time Square presented by Calvin Klein, tweet comemorating “Standing Next to You”

Interviews

BE comeback interview: “I hope this feeling never fades”

Butter release interview: “I think we’d better not ever stop”

Proof release interview: “I want to prove myself through my music”

Trivia

Weverse magazine: “Listening to Jung Kook”

Weverse magazine: “Jung Kook’s playlist”

Jung Kook has a studio named Golden Closet, in reference to his Golden Maknae nickname (which means he’s the yonugest and talented in everything he does). The Golden Closet studio has offered us several works, notably:

7 G.C.F (Golden Closet Film)

some G.C.P (Golden Closet Picture) and #golden_closet_photo

a few G.C.S (Golden Closet Sketch)

As revealed in In The Soop Season 2, Jung Kook has a dog named Bam. He created an Instagram account for him.

[abybweisse]

More on Sebastian outside the Christian tradition

I'm about to go deep into some mythological references I've posted about before. Long addition here, under the cut.

I love all my Greek references being tied back in with ancient Celtic mythology. The Celtic tribes did in fact cover a large portion of Europe as they migrated west and north, away from the Caucasus Mountains they generally originated from. It's really fun for me, being named Arran, as it's a Scottish island (Ireland also has a string of tiny islands called Aran) and an old name for Azerbaijan, which includes a chunk of the Caucasus Mountains. You see, Arran and Aran mean "ridge with iron deposits", and this was important because it was all about making weapons and other iron tools during the Iron Age. 😃

Anyway, we've had references to the Isle of the Dead in the anime, and the anime staff might have had the right of it for that reference; it's one of the better Easter eggs in the anime, imo. So, the fare for crossing could be about a river of Hades or a sea to something like the Isle of Death. Of course, we've had numerous references to Celtic culture and mythology, like the Fenian Cycle, as well as the tartans and thistles on Artworks 3. Even the wren and mistletoe during the F. O. L. Orphanage assignment.

I've also noticed parallels to Norse and Germanic mythology, since our earl and real Ciel can be compared to Máni and Sol (respectively), forced (according to at least one author) by the gods to drive the moon and sun (also respectively) across the sky just because their father had the arrogance or audacity to give their kids such lofty names. Reminds me of what Vicar Rathbone says about their names... and then what Rachel says about their names, which Vincent quotes to Vicar Rathbone. (Truly, Vincent is quoting Rachel there, as it's even in quotation marks in his speech bubble.) This makes Sebastian Skoll (mockery) and/or Hati (hatred), the giant wolves that chase them; the wolves will eat them during Ragnarok. Two other particularly interesting characters are in this story: Hjúki and Bil (later Bilwis). They are a German boy and girl who are supposedly kidnapped by Máni. They follow him across the sky every night; they might actually represent craters on the moon. To me, that's Finny and Sieglinde. They're also the basis for Jack and Jill. However, Bil falls victim to much more than tumbling down a hill; people begin to call her a witch, and some later writers even demonize her. Even more reason to compare her with Sieglinde!

There are also some Egyptian mythological references or parallels, like Undertaker lining up well with Thoth... while Rachel, Francis/Frances, and Angelina are combined into the goddess Nut (goddess of the sky, stars, and mothers) by the mere fact they provide the five children representing Osiris (real Ciel), Set/Seth (our earl), Horus the Elder (Edward), Isis (Lizzie), and Nephthys (if An's unborn child is female, as she wanted it to be). Those siblings married each other and had affairs amongst themselves. We don't want that in a Victorian story, so now we have cousins betrothed to each other... including one brother who temporarily claims his older twin brother's fiancée. On another level, Claudia/Cloudia fills in for Nut (while Undertaker fills the roles of both Thoth and Geb), since Thoth helps her give birth by winning a game of dice against the moon and then adding five days to the calendar. She bears one child on each of those new days. Well, Vincent is born on a Friday the 13th, and I suspect that's also true for his sister. Instead of new days added to the calendar, we have taboo days. Honestly, I'm not sure where Sebastian fits in with the Egyptian myth parallels, but he's probably in there.

Then again, Horus the Elder was apparently added later, in a Graeco-Egyptian version of the myth about Nut, so perhaps we just tie Sebastian back in that way, too -- something added by the Greeks. 😆 Oh! There's a major nod to the Greeks in the manga that I forgot to bring up last time. In ch3, Sebastian brings tea to find that his master has been kidnapped, and three of the tea service items (teapot, cup, and saucer) are Wedgwood Jasperware in the Sacrifice Figures series.

These pieces depict various scenes of sacrifices being made to certain Greek gods and goddesses. They were often gifted at weddings and possibly at baby showers, because some of the sacrifices are apparently to Leto, goddess of motherhood, and some definitely include Hygieia, goddess of good health and cleanliness. Aphrodite and Eros also commonly make an appearance in these scenes. But it's interesting to me that our earl would have these, since any his mother once had would have probably been destroyed in the fire. Meaning these are from a set that Sebastian purchases for his young master... probably thinking they would be appropriate, tasteful, and to his master's liking. It's possible that our earl picks them out himself, but I doubt it. 😆

Well, this discussion has been a joy for me, because I love the whole topic of comparative religion and mythology, as well as talking about odd little references in the series. And, if anyone is interested, my main has a bunch of older posts on these parallels (and others).

Something important consider regarding Sebastian, and some of the things people have had to say about him pertaining to following Christian Mythology.

Some people are using the wrong evidence to support Sebastian following what they claim is "Christian Mythology." If one tries to base his origins off of his contract symbol alone, and link it to The Lesser Key of Solomon… a lot of people have some feelings on the matter. Namely, an entire group of people. I did my best to break down the contract and it's origin in a previous post, but I did not further expand on it. I deeply regret that I didn't. The lesser Key of Solomon is a grimoire that does not actually trace back to the Talmud. The Lesser Key of Solomon is loosely based off of The Testament of Solomon... which barrows from multiple cultures and can only be traced as early as the middle ages. In fact, is has absolutely no connection to true Jewish folkore or true Kabbalah. There are mountains of evidence to support this, I would encourage people to keep digging. This article expanded upon this much better than I could ever explain. :

That people have used this grimoire in the past as "evidence" that jewish people have "secret magic and powers" and as an excuse to be antisemitic. N-zi's used this, as propaganda.

The book was clearly written by a non-jew (goy), who culturally-appropriated from Kabbalah and Talmudic texts. How do historians (more importantly, jewish historians) know that? There's a lot of grammatical errors in extremely-broken hebrew, for one. There's the countless books and articles written about this by Jewish people that often get trampled on, by people in occult spaces. Theistic Satanism is rife with people who are comfortable brushing shoulders with N-zis and parroting their ideology, for a reason. Occult spaces in general are very hostile, toward jewish people in general and they don't care if they're stealing from a closed practice. Quabbalists / Cabbalists were formed in general, so that non-jews could steal/practice Kabbalah and pretend it's Christian … The Lesser Key of Solomon, is a part of that. People call it "Christian" as an excuse, to be able to use it in religious practices. Solomon came before Christ, not after.

Jews who believe and practice in a non-secular way, don't believe demons are inherently always evil beings. There isn't a clear cut translation for "demon" in hebrew. That very belief in of itself, has gotten many jewish people hurt, killed, and persecuted for centuries.

A mystic jew who practices Kabbalah, would not have written a book/grimoire describing demons, like that. A jewish person wouldn't have even approved of the vast majority of those illustrations of the demons, either. Another reason this is known: it's staple of jewish folklore that demons aren't capable of completely shapeshifting into a human being, as they always will have what's described as 'chicken feet' / 'bird feet' / 'cock's feet', when they're in disguise, and they have to hide them using other much more ordinary means outside their own magic.

A lot of those illustrations in the lesser key, describe and depict them as having human feet, when they take the shape of a human... There's not even one mention of 'They take the shape of a man with chicken's feet/birds feet' or any warning, about what their feet will look like, anywhere, in the Lesser Key of Solomon. Wouldn't that be important?

In jewish folklore sometimes demons are known to chase ghosts and wayward souls that were once evil in life, trying to escape accountability for their misdeeds. Human ghosts who try to posses or hurt other humans. In other words it's generally accepted that human evil has the potential to be more meddlesome and monstrous, than a demon can be. That's not primarily a Christian belief. It is also a Jewish belief, that demons are inherently doing what they're supposed to do and have a place, in G-d's plan. Even 'Satan' (not the correct name in Jewish belief!!!) is ultimately a subordinate to G-d, working with him and not against him... not necessarily HIS adversary or the enemy, it's much more accurate to say demons and devils are an adversary to humans and human kind, alone. Didn't Sebastian say, "Where is the FOOL who spits on God?" ...That doesn't sound like a demon who sees God as an adversary. Contrary to popular belief, the Christian God and the Jewish G-d, even conceptually... are extremely different concepts, and entities (I mean for fucks sake one did the whole Jesus thing, and one DIDN'T... that's a huge difference. It is not by any stretch the only one).

People have been pointing these things out for centuries. That Christianity is NOT Judaism Plus™️... but it continuously falls on deaf ears. The reason why discussions like this almost never go anywhere productive, are because people out there... either don't care, or are Antisemetic anyway. It doesn't matter if they brush shoulders with extremely misguided and bad people, they want to believe what they want to believe. People will always be out there who will try to insist the Lesser Key is actually-reliable knowledge concerning the vast majority of these demons, and those who actually use it are "doing it in good taste!" and that "this source is Christian actually, and I am respectful!"

There's "demons" on that list, that come from completely unrelated cultures and practices, that aren't christian OR jewish. I've cited sources that confirm this already... but you need look no further, beyond the names and descriptions of the demons themselves. Therefore, insulting to say, "Their overlord is Satan" and they're beneath a rank in any kind of Christian-formulated hierarchy.

For the record... Of course, it is possible to explore this in fiction and to study these things. Of course it's possible, that jewish people have written about these spirits, and have tried to reclaim some elements of design of the sigils and content that was badly botched. It's their right to do so. Of course it's possible, to take these sources with a grain of salt and read it as someone curious, and studying how this all happened... how these texts came to be, and why it's so far removed from the closed practices that wrote about them. I'm not saying it can never be used or written about, ever, I am not trying cancel anybody (or Yana). Especially people who didn't know half of what I've just talked about. It took me an embarrassingly long time to understand any of this, and even accept half of the things, I've read. I'm just saying trying to say, as someone who has studied these matters independently for over fifteen years... That even if you're of the belief, Sebastian is connected to the symbols within the contract and that grimoire? ... It still doesn't mean, he's a part of Christian mythology. That source doesn't necessarily mean anything, in the context of who Sebastian is. The evidence to support he is Abrahamic in origin is much more arguable. The fact is, we don't know what Yana has in store for him, and we don't know that his contract necessarily means that The Lesser Key of Solomon, or The Testament of Solomon are accurate sources for what he is, or are actually helpful when it comes to identifying what sort of demon he is. He's certainly not following Christian mythology, and isn't displaying any of the signs that track with Christian mythology. He wears a crucifix, walks about a church, and walks on hollowed ground. Before anyone says with their whole chest they know exactly what sort of Demon or entity Sebastian is, in the context of the manga… I would implore people, to do more research, about these matters and to ask a lot of questions... and seek many different sources, regarding even what they THINK they know, and who they THINK they can trust.

It's easy to imagine in fiction, that if an entity went from a g-d to demon, or even from one type of demon to being seen as a different type... that they might embracing the symbols and names, they are now so commonly associated with. A lot of stories have been written like that. It's a very common theme in a lot of media, written by many different people across several different cultures! Jewish culture was not the only culture appropriated, in The Testament of Solomon.

I do find it extremely odd though, that people use the contract symbol and where it came from, as evidence that Sebastian is a "Christian demon" and "A fallen angel"... when Yana herself has already said she doesn't ever intend to confirm what his nature is, or where he came from. I also don't believe that humankind is supposed to be the pinnacle of all things innocent, and that the supernatural and divine are forces, are leading them to pain and poor choices... there are so many evil humans, in black butler and if anything, they use the supernatural as means to accomplish their goals and ambitions. Not the other way around. We have seen Sebastian act manipulatively, destructively, and even cruelly... but not any more so, than other characters in the story. Sebastian is not behaving the way a true evil being out of the bible, would.

Sebastian's contract isn't even "perfectly" inverted (as I already pointed out). "Solomon" / "Soluzen" isn't in Sebastian's contract, at all (the exception being S1 in the anime... thats it) ... and that tells me all I needed to know! * * * If you read all the way to the end of this you deserve rewards and treats. * * *

But finally on a personal and extremely petty note …why do people want things to be infinitely less interesting than they could be????? 😭 Why do Christians think they invented and have the monopoly on demons? Why does he need to fit into an extremely limited view of what a demon is that BADLY?

[verxsyon]

·:*¨༺ ❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐅𝐋𝐘 ❞

you decide to indulge in your enemy's holiday challenge to prove that you can be a fun person.

✧ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. arataki itto x gn!reader

✧ 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭. drabble ; 0.8k

✧ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞. e2l au, modern au ; fluff

✧ 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚. hello, @echoingtales​​! ‘tis me, your secret santa. my original giftee backed out last minute and this was supposed to be for them, so i hope this is okay? i’m in a huge itto brainrot at the moment, so apologies if it seems like i’m projecting myself through this fic lol. special thanks to @favoniuscodex for hosting the secret santa event.

[ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 ]

It’s finally the holiday season, the most wonderful time of the year. When you’re working at a daycare center during then, parents leave gifts on the counter to thank you for caring for their children while they’re tending to their jobs. You’re touched by their kindness, but the one who deserves it the most is your boss, the owner.

Your boss, whom you affectionately call her Granny, is a very kind old woman who offered you this job when you were at your lowest. While she has no biological family of her own, she treats you like a grandchild aside from her adoptive grandson. Speaking of him, you don’t have a lot of positive words to say regarding his character. It seems like he doesn’t have anything nice to say about you, either.

Arataki Itto is his name, your friendly neighborhood troublemaker. He and his so-called gang are infamous for giving headaches to the police and stealing wins from children. The issue between the two of you is that you never see eye to eye with each other due to being complete opposites.

For the sake of Granny, however, animosity is kept to a minimum. That means no snarky comments of any sorts, although insulting him is quite tempting.

“Granny, I’m here!” His boisterous voice resonates in the building. You swear he could cause an earthquake, due to several objects on the counter rattling. “Whoa, so many presents! Need any help?”

“Yes, my sweet boy.” Just as soon as you return from carrying your presents to the car, she tasks the two of you to take hers to his car. He may be a sweet person toward Granny, but in situations where the two of you are alone, he’s unbearable.

“The silence is killing me here,” he groans. You try your best not to pay attention to him. “You know, you remind me of this rookie in the police force who always refuses to accept my challenges. Heard of Kujou Sara? Ha! What a chicken. Guess I should call her Kujou Chicken from now on. She’s no fun, and so are you.”

You chuckle humorlessly. “Why don’t you introduce me to her next time? We can be funless together.” You set down the last present of the batch inside the trunk. “See what I did there? I made a joke, to prove that I can be fun.”

“Haha, very funny,” Itto says amusingly. “If you say you’re fun, why don’t you indulge in this special challenge of mine?”

“Special challenge, you say?” Doesn’t sound bad to entertain your archnemesis at least once, right? “Since it’s Christmas, perhaps I could make an exception.”

“Alright, I like your style. Guess you’re not so bad after all.” That’s one nice thing he said about you all these years you’ve known each other. But if he makes another comment like that, you’ll definitely throw up. “Give me a second. Now where did I put it? Oh, here you go!”

Dread flushes into your face when you see the object he pulled out from the interior pocket of his coat. “A mistletoe? That’s the special challenge?”

“The classic Christmas tradition. But before making assumptions, it’s consensual; I promise.” You raise your eyebrow, casting your doubts about his behavior. “If you say no, I won’t force you. Who am I, crazy?”

“What a gentleman,” you say sarcastically, staring at the mistletoe.  You’re not sure what his deal is with this particular challenge, but losing against someone like him isn’t an option. “I bet you kiss like a loser.”

“Excuse me? I kiss like a champ!” he retorts, inserting the mistletoe into the space between the both of you. “Ho ho, is that a ‘Challenge Accepted’ I hear?”

“Yeah,” you confirm strongly. “Kiss me like the champ you claim to be. Or perhaps you’re just too chicken about it?”

Stumbling upon the edge of the trunk from his touch on your cheek, he captures your lips gently, in contrast to his personality. It’s jarring, not because his kisses are different from what you’ve expected, but because he’s one hell of a kisser.

He didn’t lie; he does kiss like a champ.

“What? Too stunned to speak?” Your jaw drops in disbelief. Did that happen, or was it just a figment of your imagination? “Am I right? Or am I… right?”

“Shut up. You’re absolutely wrong,” you murmur against your hand that you bring to cover your mouth. You don’t like him at all, but how can you when he makes your heart race and be considerate of your comfortability before accepting this special challenge of his?

“Is that so?” Tucking the mistletoe away, he presses a kiss on the knuckles of your hand still covering your mouth, as if he’s giving you another on the lips. “Heh, aren’t you cute? Do you want me to kiss you again for real this time to change your mind?”

✧ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬. if your url is in bold, it means i can’t tag you!

@aibiito ; @blissmal ; @bokutosworld ; @dreamiehrs ; @fadedjae ; @help-wtf-am-i-even-doing ; @lilikags ; @philosopher-of-fandoms ; @shxnosuke ; @sleepyyangyang ; @sucrosia ; @sunfloweritea; @xriin