#vernon is folding clothes at the foot of the bed

[lordtonic]

I love when my ocs are kinda just in their spaces in my mind

It's like watching a fish tank

[autumnalwalker]

Happy STS! What is your character's favourite possession? Share a snippet about it if you like 💜

Not something I've thought about for all my characters, but for the ones that I have:

From The Archivist's Journal:

The Archivist: The journal.

Maiko: A carved figurine of a animal that the Archivist has never heard of and may not exist in the world of the Village. Apparently it's something like a dog in behavior and social role if not in form. Her mother made it for her when she was a child.

Vernon: The coat that acts as the symbol of his status as Village mediator. How he doesn't get heat stroke walking around in it in tropical weather remains a mystery to the Archivist.

From Empty Names:

Road: Their shapeshifting jacket. Although given that it's sort of alive, it might be more pet than possession.

Sullivan: His wedding ring.

Ashan: Ashan (mostly by choice) has very few worldly possessions, and those select items that he hangs onto are each precious in some way. Here's a snippet about it:

It is always a strange feeling, waking up in an unfamiliar bed.  Doubly so when you are not used to waking up in a bed at all.  Though for all that strangeness, Ashan finds himself conceding to no one in particular that it does feel nice.  The weight of the blankets, the texture of the pillowcase, such things are absent from his usual habit of simply sleeping suspended midair inside a climate-controlled privacy ward.  Perhaps his standard sleep ritual is not quite as superior to ordinary bedding as he likes to believe.

Then again, he is finding it unusually difficult to get up and moving now that he is awake.  A result of poor sleep quality induced by physical bedding or just leftover exhaustion from yesterday?  Surely he is not giving in to the indulgence of luxury.  But it does feel nice just lying here, half asleep with the blankets curled tight around him and the morning light barely filtering in through dual layers of window and bed curtains.

Take a rest.  Sleep in.  You’ve earned it.

Ashan throws back the covers and pivots to sit upright with his legs hanging over  the side of the bed, brushing against the surrounding drapery.

That is the sort of thing she would say to him on a morning like this.  Or… no?  That is what Road said last night before leaving him to retire for the evening.

Hers is the voice he imagines though.

Without the covers over him he suddenly feels terribly exposed.  Pulling the bed’s curtain aside, he reaches out, snaps his wizard’s raiment from where he left it last night and quickly slips into it.  He can count on one hand the number of times since returning to the world of his birth that he’s taken it off.  Not coincidentally, it’s the same as the number of times he’s actually bathed instead of simply magically cleaning himself and his clothes.  That had been the first complex spell his teacher had taught him and she’s ever been invented. 

If you never master another spell, at least learn this one.  Best spell that’s ever been invented. 

And yet, there was a relaxation to warm water that the spell’s efficiency cut out. 

He checks the contents of his sleeves, verifying that everything is accounted for.  Wand, white with a blended rainbow.  Coinpouch, now stuffed with more folded paper currency than coin.  Portable makeup kit, understated yet elegant in its lid’s design.  The sum total of his worldly possessions.  All gifts from her, directly or indirectly, the same as his robes.

He raises a hand to draw a mirror in the air but stops himself short.  He should not strain himself more than necessary after yesterday’s burnout.  And besides, there is a perfectly good vanity set against the wall opposite of the foot of the bed.

After opening the window blinds to let in the sunlight and a view of the estate’s gardens he takes a seat in front of the vanity’s mirror, sets down the makeup kit, opens it, selects a brush, and gets to work.

This had been a daily morning ritual for Ashan, once upon a time.  The subtle transformation of his face is not so much a masking over but a drawing out of how he sees himself.  He had tried to make adjustments when he had first gone his separate ways from his teacher - experimenting with the angle and curve of the eyeliner, going lighter on the contouring, altering the blend on colors - but it had never felt like him in the mirror afterward.  While he might have copied her style to begin with, it was his just as much as it was hers now.

Wrapping up the finishing touches and closing the box some minutes later he pauses, considering.  These days he normally ends the application with a spell to keep the makeup pristine and in place for a week or more in order to preserve the kit’s dwindling supplies that he still has not been able to find satisfactory replacements for on this world.  But there is the matter of overexertion to consider.

In the end, he returns the kit to his sleeve and heads to the bedroom door without any spellcasting.  If there is one occasion that warrants wasting a little bit of material to look his best then surely spending a day in the home of the sorceress Bridgewood is it.

[escapewriter]

until we meet again

request : prince!seungkwan x thief!reader where the king is neglecting the kingdom so reader and atz/skz members form a crew that reader is the leader of that steals unnecessary stuff from the palace so food and stuff can be bought from other kingdoms and y’all are basically keeping the kingdom alive. but reader gets caught by seungkwan one night and almost gets executed cuz he doesn’t believe reader abt the state the kingdom is in, but opens his eyes later. angst and fluff pls! tyty

pairing : prince!seungkwan x thief!reader

genre : fluff, humor, slight angst

type : oneshot

wc : 3.1k (3100)

warnings : stealing, mentions of execution

main masterlist || svt written masterlist

requests are closed

a/n : this is me killing two birds with one stone. i finish a request along with participating in the royal themed writing event for ficscafe. i hope you all enjoy this, i really liked writing this!

You wait silently behind a bush, keeping an eye out for the signal. Watching carriages and wagons pass by and into the gates of the palace, you hear a crunch behind you. You turn your head, watching Jisung munch on an apple, the savory juice trickling down his chin as he hums in content. “Where the hell did you get that?”

He looks at you, shifting in his squatting position before holding the apple out towards you. “Want a bite?”

Your eyes shifted to the market behind him, seeing a display of apples before narrowing your focus back on Jisung. “I can not believe you stole food from them, do you know how hard it is to make money?” Watching him shrug you turn back around to wait for the signal.

“Okay, but we take from the palace all the time, it’s not like this is any different.” You rolled your eyes, spotting Wooyoung a few feet down the dirt road with his wagon.

“Yeah, but the palace has riches that they keep to themselves. Out here, on the other side of these gates, everyone is trying to survive.” You see Hongjoong peak out of the bush on the other side of the dirt road, blanket in his hand. “Jisung, get ready.”

You both get in a better position, bags secured tightly around your shoulder. Wooyoung arrives at the first checkpoint before the gates. He patiently answers the guards questions before they check the items hidden under the tarp. He looks at Hongjoong, giving him the cue. Hongjoong stands up, walking to a campfire close by, and lets the blanket catch on fire. He yells, running up to the guards, distracting them from checking the wagon as he screams for water and help.

Woonyoung pushes the wagon forward and sends you the signal. You grab Jisung, tugging him along as the tarp on top of the wagon opens for you both. “Welcome!” You smack Hyunjin’s head, telling him to be quiet as the three of you wait for Wooyoung’s next signal.

＊＊＊

The wagon came to an abrupt stop. All bags were full of treasures from the palace that were to be sold to other kingdoms for the sake of restoring the kingdom the King has been neglecting. Crops and other resources that were used to survive have not been shipped to the kingdom for half a year, which is what led to the formation of you, Jisung, Wooyoung, Hyunjin, and Hongjoong. The five of you sneak into the palace, taking various items that seem worth hundreds so you could sell them to gain money to pay for the shipment of cloth, pottery, and crops. It wouldn’t have been this way if the King simply looked after his kingdom.

You stepped out of the wagon and into the hut you shared with the other four. Placing all three bags on the table, you watch Hongjoong sort out all the jewels into separate piles. Wooyoung emerged from the doorway, sitting at the table Hongjoong was at. “You know the three of you almost got caught, right?” You rolled your eyes, a small smile making its way onto your face.

“Yeah, but we didn’t. Plus it was worth it,” you picked up a ring, “if I didn’t take the risk, I wouldn’t have gotten this precious jewel.” You examined the ring, deciding to keep it as a souvenir for the adventures you’ve made with your friends.

“Yeah, but Wooyoung’s right,” you look down at Hyunjin who sat on the floor next to the table as he played with a golden tablecloth, “it was really risky with how far you went.” You sighed, not being able to defend yourself before Hongjoong spoke.

“How far did they go?”

“The Princes’ room.” You smack Jisung on the arm for ratting you out, only receiving a wince then a shrug in return.

Hongjoong said your name in a warning tone, “you better watch yourself. You go too far, you may not come out and we won’t be able to save you.”

“I know Hongjoong, I’m the one that enforced these precautions.”

***

Clearly, you should have listened to those precautions more because here you were, hiding in the closet of the kingdom’s Prince.

Your breathing was staggered as you cupped your hand over your mouth. The rest of the guys should be gone by now, but since it was Hongjoong leading the mission that week, he would be too stubborn to leave. You bite your lower lip in hopes that the prince doesn’t enter the room. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side as you heard the stomps of multiple feet enter the room.

“Vernon, you have to help me find it,” your eyes widened, the hand covering your mouth attempting to muffle any that could potentially escape, “I swear, the last time I saw it was on my dresser.”

“Seungkwan, I promise you that it’s okay if you lost your ring, we can always buy a replacement.” You swallowed, mind racing back to the ring that was currently sitting on your table back at home.

“A replacement isn’t the same, I need to find it. You gonna help me or do you have other things?” The floor began to creak, the weight walking past the closet before a sigh was heard. “Where the hell could I have put it?”

“I’ll help you later, my mom needs my help in the kitchen. Let me know if you find it.” You heard footsteps leave the room and the door close. You don’t know what the ring is worth and why it’s so important to this Seungkwan guy, but if you got home, maybe you can find out.

Or not because the second the doors to the closet opened and yours eyes connected, you immediately jumped up, trying to cover the mouth of the man in front of you as you tackled him to the floor. In attempts to calm him down, your mind failed to think that this guy is the Prince and probably knows how to defend himself.

He quickly locks both your left arm and leg and immediately flips you over so he’s on top. Your eyes full of fear as he pins your arms to the sides of your body. He narrows his eyes, staring deeply into yours before turning into a sharp glare. “Who are you?” You don’t answer, but instead look to the side, trying to think of some way to escape. “Are you not going to answer me?”

“Well you can probably guess what I do.”

“Sarcastic one, aren’t you. Trust me, you do not want to be on my bad side.”

You don’t know what took over you at that moment, but you just became a new person. “Believe me then, your highness, you’re already on my bad side.”

＊＊＊

You woke up strapped to a chair in a cold room. The small window with the moon shining through was your only form of light. You don’t even remember how you ended up there after telling the Prince that he was on your bad side. And honestly, he should know that the whole kingdom is growing more hatred towards the royal family.

The screeching noise of the metal door took you away from your thoughts as you saw the Prince come into the room with a small candle. He sets it down on the table, eyes trained on you, waiting for any movement as if you weren’t chained on the chair. “So, thief, are you going to tell me why you were in the castle?”

“I’m a thief, why else would I be there?”

He scoffs, leaning against the wall. “You do realize that I can have you executed, right?” You thought for a moment, a little fear rising but pushed it to the back of your head. You shrugged at him. “You’re not scared?”

You shifted in your seat, thinking about what to say, or maybe what any of the guys would say if they were in this situation. Jisung would probably cry, Hyunjin would look away out of nervousness, and both Wooyoung and Hongjoong would be stubborn and refuse to speak. But what would you say? “No not really.”

Clever.

“Well, you should be! I can have you killed at any moment!”

You looked around the cell you were in, the unimpressed look clearly evident on your face, “Yeah,” you humed, waiting for any sign of death machine, but you had this feeling that he could never kill you and you don’t know why, “you’re not gonna kill me, are you?”

“You have my ring! I know you do!” He whined, catching you by surprise as he stomped his foot. “You’re not leaving here until you tell me where you put it.” He furrowed his eyebrows, sitting on the chair next to the table. Your lips formed a straight line. What’s the deal with this ring anyway?

“I won’t tell you where your ring is until you tell your dad that the entire kingdom is dying.” His eyebrows shot up, a disbelief scoff escaping his mouth.

“Our kingdom isn’t dying.” He folds his arms and looks away from you, frustration evident in his actions as he clenches his jaw.

“Dude, any tools, cloth, crops, and other necessities needed haven't been shipped here for half a year,” you look down, trying to contain your emotions as you thought about how everyone has been struggling to just get out of bed in the morning, “why do you think I steal from the palace? Because then I can sell it just to use the money to pay for the shipment of the things that your kingdom needs. I shouldn’t be the one to do it.”

He sighs loudly, slowly turning around and clapping his hands. “I applaud you. That was some acting and a great lie. Our kingdom is perfectly fine,” he walks closer to you and leans down, face inches away from yours, “you have no idea what you’re talking about.” He stands up and laughs, picking up the candle from the desk before heading towards the door.

“Then I guess you’ll never get your precious ring back.” He stops momentarily in hesitation, but ignores you and continues to exit the cell.

＊＊＊

Seungkwan sat on his bed, his mind racing on whether or not the information you’ve told him was true. It couldn’t be because if the castle got supplies, shouldn’t the rest of the kingdom get supplies too? He rubbed his temples as he fell back on his back, groaning in frustration. The door to his room opened with a creak, standing at the doorway was Vernon.

“What’s up with you?” Vernon walks in, taking a seat next to his best friend. “Still can’t find your ring? I’m telling you, the guys won’t care if you get it replaced, I mean, this castle is huge and it’s easy to lose things here.”

“It’s not that this time,” Seungkwan sat up, “it’s just,” he pauses, debating on whether or not he can ask Vernon, “what if I’m not a good King?” He watches Vernon scoff and look away.

“No offense to your dad or anything, but trust me, you’ll be a way better King than him.” Seungkwan tilts his head, confused as to what his friend was talking about. “You don’t know?” Vernon looks into his eyes, surprised that his friend doesn’t know what has been going on. “Your dad is a selfish coward. The people in his kingdom are dying because he won’t pay the shipment of the crops they need to survive.” Seungkwan looks down at his hands and plays with his fingers, you were right. “The payment increased by a few pieces of gold, but the man is greedy, as if he doesn’t have a whole castle.”

“How do you know about this Vernon?”

Vernon places a hand on Seungkwan’s shoulder, a small smile on his lips. “We may be best friends and have grown up together, but I’m still a peasant and in the lower class that works for your family. I have to go out the gates to get resources for my family because we’re not allowed to eat the food in the kitchen,” he pauses, patting Seungkwan’s back as a form of comfort, “if you went out there, you’d see how bad it is.

＊＊＊

Seungkwan stood in front of the gate to the castle, watching all the people scurry by and the wagons pass by. He looks around, seeing markets have a low supply of food, children who have barely any coverage of clothing, and some huts falling apart as men try to repair them. His heart feels heavy at the sight, his emotions going crazy as he thought about how the people are feeling. Is he on their bad side just like how he is with you?

“Sir! Sir!” He watches a young man walk pass a market, dark circles evident under his eyes as he turns around to face the owner. “Do you know when the next shipment will come in? You and your group have been doing so much for everyone, but we haven’t gotten any new supplies in a few weeks”

The man looks down, sorrow and regret on his face. “Unfortunately, Mister, we don’t have enough money yet. It’s been hard as we have lost a member, but please, try to wait a little longer.”

Lost a member? You? Seungkwan’s feet took him towards the man who was walking away. He placed his hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me,” the man turns to look at him, his eyes scanning Seungkwan who has covered his whole face besides his eyes, “I can help with the rest of the payment.”

＊＊＊

Your head lolled to the side, a sigh escaping your mouth as you tried to sleep in the uncomfortable position. Your eyes shot open as a man cleared his throat. You slowly moved your head up as you watched the silhouette open the door. “So I’m guessing you’re the reason Seungkwan has gone out the gates of the palace?” You didn’t know what to say, mainly because you had no idea what this man was talking about. “Or maybe I encouraged him a bit, but it was unintentional at least.”

He walks up to you, a clunking noise coming from his hand, “I’m Vernon by the way,” he lifts up a string of keys and begins to unlock you from your chair, “if you have his ring, please give it back,” he holds his hand up with the same exact ring on his pinky, “it’s a friendship ring we have with some of our other friends.”

You nod your head, ignoring what he said and rubbed your wrists once they were free. “Why did he go out there?”

Vernon shrugged, looking out the small window of the cell, “to see for himself.” He holds his hand out, helping you stand. “Seungkwan has got to pick a better place than the wine cellar, he knows I go in here.” He stops you from leaving, “I’ll let you go after you eat. Mom always told me to feed visitors.”

＊＊＊

You opened the door to the small hut, a breath of relief escaping your lips as you saw your four best friends together at the table. Immediately, you were surrounded and engulfed into a big group hug. It was nice, the feeling of home and back to the way things were. The only difference was that everything won’t be back to where they were because the Prince will freak out now that you have been set free. Part of you wants to go back and maybe talk him into making some change, but you couldn’t focus on that.

“Now that you’re back safe, we have some news.” You sat on the chair, looking at Wooyoung, who signaled to Hongjoong.

“Earlier today, I was approached by a man who said he could help pay for the shipment. We told him what we do, which I know was probably a bad idea, but he gave us payment that would last probably two years.” Part of you wanted to believe it was Seungkwan because no man living in the kingdom had that much money unless they lived behind the gates, so you just thought it was a traveler.

“That’s great news!”

Jisung took his seat next to you, “We thought they…” You snorted, thinking back to the night before and Seungkwan’s paranoia.

“They couldn’t even if they tried.” You look to your room, excitement bubbling in your chest as you couldn’t wait to sleep on your bed. However, your conscience echoed Vernon’s words in your head. “I’ll be back, I have to return something.”

You heard the boys calling for you, telling you to not go as you went to your room to retrieve the ring. “Gosh, shouldn’t you have learned your lesson by now?”

You grinned at Hyunjin, “you know I never do.”

＊＊＊

You went through the back of the garden where Vernon escorted you out. There weren’t any guards there, for no one had known about this area of the palace. Hopping the gate, you walked to the door of the kitchen and peaked through the window. The lights were turned off, the full moon as the only source that illuminates the room. You heard someone clear their throat behind you, deja vu hitting once again. Turning around, you were met with Seungkwan, behind him was Vernon smirking and walking away.

“I can’t believe he let you leave— no, I can’t believe he fed you and let you leave.” He glared hard at you, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Well you’re not the best host,” you took a step forward, eyes focusing on him, “but I wasn’t the best guest either.” You played with the ring in your pocket as you looked at his hands that were missing a ring. “I forgot to bring my gift before entering your home,” you cautiously walked up to him, took his hand in yours and placed the ring on his pinky finger.

His eye scanned yours, the moonlight capturing your features perfectly. He never looked at you like this, nor has he ever seen you in this light. You’re astonishing.

Smiling softly, you let go of his hand, “thank you for paying for the shipment,” you took a step back, bowing, “your highness.” He looked at you with a hint of guilt in his eyes, but before he could say anything, you were walking away. You turned your head as you were about to hop the gate, “until we meet again!”

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 8

3rd Person POV

Later that night, (Y/n) crawls under her covers to go to sleep; Marvel lies her small head on (Y/n)'s chest.

"'Night, girl," (Y/n) murmurs, drowsily scratching behind the cat's ears.

. . .

A few hours later, Marvel lifts her head, nuzzling (Y/n)'s face to try to wake her up. She lets out a whimper, pawing (Y/n)'s face.

The girl was sweating and her neck was resting at an awkward angle. Her breath had quickened and her eyes were moving rapidly under her closed eyelids.

Marvel jumps off the bed and streaks into Hermione's room. Hermione had always been a light sleeper, so when the cat jumped onto her bed, she wakes.

Marvel meows, and Hermione's head tilts in concern.

"What's wrong, Marvel?" Hermione asks and the black-and-white feline paws at Hermione's hand and jumps off the bed, stopping at the door, then looking back at the brunette.

What a peculiar cat, Hermione thinks, throwing back the covers and following the cat across the hall to her sister's room.

Marvel streaks over and onto the bed, her green eyes wide as she tries to nudge her companion awake again.

Realization and fear dawn in Hermione's eyes and she walks across the room and switches on (Y/n)'s bedside slight before placing a hand on her sister's shoulder, shaking it roughly.

"Come on," Hermione murmurs. "You've got to wake up."

(Y/n)'s eyes flash open, and she sits up in her bed, her eyes closed, head leaning against the headboard, her hands trembling.

Hermione sits down on the edge of (Y/n)'s bed, and takes her sister's hands in her own.

(Y/n) looks up, her eyes wide with shock - and a bright silver.

Hermione looks at her sister and (Y/n) subconsciously moves over and Hermione slides under the covers, her back leaning against the other half of (Y/n)'s pillow.

(Y/n) leans against Hermione's shoulder; Hermione, used to these nightmares, remains silent.

After a few minutes, she reaches over and turns off the bedside light.

(Y/n) turns on her side, her head resting on the pillow, and Hermione does the same.

. . .

(Y/n) and Hermione don't talk about the nightmare the night before as the two go about the rest of the break leading up until Christmas.

After breakfast Christmas morning, (Y/n), Hermione, and their parents walk into the living room.

"You girls want to pass out gifts?" Mrs. Granger asks and (Y/n) and Hermione nod.

After passing out the gifts, (Y/n) settles back down at her place in front of the couch. (Y/n) pulls the wrapping paper off one from Fred, and sitting on top was a card. It said:

(Y/n), Somebody got this picture of your first Quidditch match, I thought you'd like it.

- Fred

Lifting up the card, (Y/n) smiles seeing a picture in a frame. It was a picture of Fred and George lifting her up onto their shoulders after her first Quidditch match.

(Y/n) sets the picture and card beside her before picking up a gift from Harry. She smiles when she sees a Advanced Charms book and a book on Magical Creatures.

(Y/n) looks over at Hermione as the brunette at her side opens her gift. (Y/n) had given her sister a copy of Hogwarts: A History.

"I have a copy already," Hermione says, turning to (Y/n).

"There's a charm on it," (Y/n) explains. "Whenever something important in Hogwarts' history, it get's copied down in here. Look," (Y/n) says, opening a page. It says, October 31, 1991 - Hermione Granger, (Y/n) (L/n), Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, defeated a mountain troll in a girls toilet.

Hermione stares down at the book and a smile slowly spreads across her face. "This is really cool! I love it! But that's not how that went," Hermione says.

"Ah, but it's better than what actually happened," (Y/n) argues. "That was not my best birthday."

(Y/n) grabs another gift, pulls the paper off, and finds a box of chocolate frogs from Harry, and she sets them aside, promising to have one later.

One of (Y/n)'s last gifts is a package wrapped in glossy blue paper with wolves printed on it.

(Y/n),

Happy Christmas! I'm very proud of what you have accomplished at Hogwarts in such a short amount of time.

-Love,

Uncle Remus

(Y/n) gazes down at the card, a small smile on her face. Then she sets the card at her side and looks at the contents of the box. Inside was a small stuffed wolf with a tag on it's ear that read - (Y/n)'s first stuffed animal, a gift from Uncle Remus. Under that was a new stack of photos that (Y/n) promises herself to look at later.

(Y/n) opens a package and finds a red sweater with a silver (First Initial) on it. Under the sweater was a large box of homemade fudge and a letter.

(Y/n), My sons Ron, Fred, and George have told me a lot about you. My husband, Arthur, and I wish to meet you soon. Happy Christmas! -Molly Weasley

Grinning, (Y/n) pulls the sweater over her head and the four finishing opening all their gifts, both (Y/n) and Hermione take all their things upstairs.

3rd Person POV - with Harry - A few hours earlier

On Christmas Eve, Harry goes to bed looking forward for the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When he wakes early in the morning, however, the first thing he sees is a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed.

"Merry Christmas," says Ron sleepily as Harry scrambles out of bed and pulls on his bathrobe.

"You, too," says Harry. "Will you look at this? I've got some presents!"

"What did you expect, turnips?" says Ron, turning to his own pile, which is a lot bigger than Harry's.

Harry picks up the top parcel. It is wrapped in thick brown paper and and scrawled across it was to Harry, from Hagrid. Inside is a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself; Harry blows it - it sounded a bit like an owl.

A second, very small parcel contains a note. We received your message and enclose your Christmas present. From Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Taped to the note is a fifty-pence piece.

"That's friendly," says Harry.

Ron seems fascinated by the fifty pence, "Weird!" he exclaims. "What a shape! This is money!"

"You can keep it," says Harry, laughing at how pleased Ron is. "Hagrid and my aunt and uncle - so who sent these?"

"I think I know who that one's from," says Ron, turning a bit pink and pointing to a very lumpy parcel. "My mom. I told her you didn't expect any presents and - oh, no," he groans, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harry had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," says Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"That's really nice of her," says Harry, trying the fudge, which was very tasty.

Harry's next present also contains candy - a large box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione which Harry thought was kind of funny because he had gotten (Y/n) the same thing.

Harry's next parcel was from (Y/n). Opening it, he sees a small box. Feeling curious, Harry opens the box to see a couple of photos. One was of a raven haired man with amber eyes, Harry's father, and a red haired women with emerald green eyes, his mother. The two are standing with a (M/H/C) haired women, (Y/n)'s mum; all three were smiling.

Harry looks at another picture of two kids, probably about a year old. One was a boy with raven hair and emerald eyes, the other was a girl with (H/C) and green eyes - Harry himself and (Y/n).

Then, Harry sees a piece of paper sitting in the box.

Hey Harry,

I found these pictures in the box my godfather left me and I made a few copies. I figured you'd want them.

-Love,

(Y/n)

Harry smiles and picks up the final present. He picks it up and feels it. It's very light, he thinks, and he unwraps it.

Something fluid and silvery gray goes slithering to the floor where it lies in gleaming folds and Ron gasps.

"What is it?"

Harry picks up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It's strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an Invisibility Cloak," says Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is - try it on."

Harry throws the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gives a yell.

"It is! Look down!"

Harry looks down at his feet, but they are gone. He dashes to the mirror. Sure enough, his reflection looks back at him, just his head suspended in midair, his body completely invisible. He pulls the cloak over his head and his reflection vanishes completely.

"There's a note!" says Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harry pulls off the cloak ans seizes the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words:

Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you.

Use it well

A very Merry Christmas to you

There is no signature; Harry stares at the note, while Ron is admiring the cloak.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron says. "Anything. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," says Harry. He fells very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Had it really once belonged to his father? he thinks.

Before he can say - or think - of anything else, but the dormitory door is flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounds in. Harry stuffs the cloak quickly out of sight. He doesn't fell like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look — Harry's got a Weasley sweater, too!"

Fred and George are wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it,the other a G.

"Harry's is better than ours, though," says Fred, holding up Harry's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demands. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moans halfheartedly as he pulls it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observes. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid — we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise?"

Percy Weasley sticks his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carries a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Fred seizes.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harry got one."

"I — don't — want —" says Percy thickly, as the twins force the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," demands George."Christmas is a time for family."

They frog-march Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

Harry had never in all his life had such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; mountains of roast and boiled potatoes; platters of chipolatas;tureens of buttered peas, silver boats of thick, rich gravy and cranberry sauce —and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. These fantastic party favors were nothing like the feeble Muggle ones the Dursleys usually bought, with their little plastic toys and their flimsy paper hats inside. Harry pulls a wizard cracker with Fred and it didn't just bang, it went off with a blast like a cannon and engulfed them all in a cloud of blue smoke, while from the inside exploded a rear admiral's hat and several live, white mice. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore had swapped his pointed wizard's hat for a flowered bonnet,and is chuckling merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

Flaming Christmas puddings follow the turkey. Percy nearly breaks his teeth on a silver Sickle embedded in his slice. Harry watches Hagrid getting redder and redder in the face as he calls for more wine, finally kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, to Harry's amazement, giggles and blushes, her top hat lopsided.

When Harry finally leaves the table, he is laden down with a stack of things out of the crackers, including a pack of non-explodable, luminous balloons, a Grow Your-Own-Warts kit, and his own new wizard chess set. The white mice had disappeared and Harry has a nasty feeling they were going to end up as Mrs.Norris's Christmas dinner.

Harry and the Weasleys spent a happy afternoon having a furious snowball fight on the grounds. Then, cold, wet, and gasping for breath, they return to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, where Harry breaks in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron. Harry suspects he wouldn't have lost so badly if Percy hadn't tried to help him so much.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone feels too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor Tower because they'd stolen his prefect badge.

It had been Harry's best Christmas day ever. Yet something had been nagging at the back of his mind all day. Not until he climbs into bed is he free to think about it: the Invisibility Cloak and whoever had sent it.

Harry leans over the side of his own bed and pulls the cloak out from under it. His father's ... this had been his father's. He lets the material flow over his hands, smoother than silk, light as air. Use it well, the note had said.He has to try it, now. He slips out of bed and wrapped the cloak around himself. Looking down at his legs, he sees only moonlight and shadows. It's a very funny feeling.Use it well.Suddenly, Harry feels wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts is open to him in this cloak. Excitement floods through him as he stands there in the dark and silence. He can go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

Ron grunts in his sleep. Should Harry wake him? Something holds him back— his father's cloak — he felt that this time — the first time — he wants to use it alone. Harry creeps out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbs through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawks the Fat Lady. Harry says nothing. He walks quickly down the corridor.

Harry, his heart racing, and thought. And then it came to him. The Restricted Section in the library. He'd be able to read as long as he liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. He sets off, drawing the Invisibility Cloak tight around him as he walked.The library is pitch-black and very eerie. Harry lights a lamp to see his way along the rows of books. The lamp looks as if it was floating along in midair,and even though Harry can feel his arm supporting it, the sight gives him the creeps.

The Restricted Section is right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separates these books from the rest of the library, he held up his lamp to read the titles. They didn't tell him much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harry couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book has a dark stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled. Maybe he was imagining it, maybe not, but he thought a faint whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be. Harry had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, he looked along the bottom shelf for an interesting-looking book. A large black and silver volume caught his eye. He pulls it out with difficulty, because it was very heavy, and, balancing it on his knee, lets it fall open.

A piercing, bloodcurdling shriek splits the silence — the book is screaming! Harry snaps it shut, but the shriek goes on and on, one high, unbroken, earsplitting note. He stumbles backward and knocks over his lamp, which went out at once. Panicking, he heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside —stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, he runs for it. He passes Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale, wild eyes looked straight through him, and Harry slips under Filch's outstretched arm and streaks off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in his ears.

Harry comes to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. He has been so busy getting away from the library, he hadn't paid attention to where he was going.Perhaps because it's dark, he didn't recognize where he was at all. There is a suit of armor near the kitchens, he knew, but he must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library — Restricted Section."

Harry feels the blood drain out of his face. Wherever he is, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice is getting nearer, and to his horror, it's Snape who replies, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Harry stands rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape come around the corner ahead. They can't see him, of course, but it is a narrow corridor and if they come much nearer, they'd knock into him - the cloak didn't stop him from being solid.

Harry backs away as quickly as he can. A door stands ajar to his left. It's my only hope, Harry thinks. He squeezes through it, holding his breath, trying to to move it, and to his relief, he manages to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walk straight past, and Harry leans against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. They had been close, very close, It is a few seconds before he notices anything about the room he his hidden in.

It looks like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs are piled against the walls, and there is an upturned wastepaper basket — but propped against the wall facing him was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It is a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame,standing on two clawed feet. There is an inscription carved around the top: Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

His panic fading now that there is no sound of Filch and Snape, Harry moves nearer to the mirror, wanting to look at himself but see no reflection again; he steps in front of it.

He has to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirls around, his heart pounding far more furiously than when the book had screamed - for he had not seen only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

But the room is empty. Breathing very fast, he turns slowly back to the mirror.

There he is, reflected in it, white ans scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, are at least ten others. Harry looks over his shoulder - but still, no one is there. Or are they invisible, too? Is his, in fact, in a room full of invisible people and this mirrors trick is that it reflects them, invisible or not?

Harry looks in the mirror again. A woman is standing right behind his reflection is smiling at him and waving. He reaches out a hand and feels the air behind him. If she is really there, he would touch her, their reflections are so close together, but he only feels air - she and the others exist only in the mirror.

She is a very pretty woman. Dark red hair and her eyes, emerald green eyes. Harry edges closer to the to the glass. Bright green - exactly the same shape as Harry's, but then he notices that she is crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wears glasses and his hair is very untidy. It sticks up at the back, just as Harry's does.

Harry is so close to the mirror that his nose is nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mom?" he whispers. "Dad?"

They just look at him, smiling. And slowly, Harry looks into the faces of the other people in the mirror, and sees other pairs of green eyes like his, other noses like his, even a little old man, who looks as though he as Harry's knobbly knees - he is looking at his entire family for the first time in his life.

The Potters smile and wave at Harry and he stares hungrily hack at them, his hands pressed flat against the glass as though he is hopping to fall right through it and reach them. He has a powerful kind of ache inside him, half joy, half terrible sadness.

How long he stands there, he doesn't know. The reflections do not fade and he looks and looks until a distant noise brings him back to his senses. He can't stay here, he has to find a way back to his bed. He tears his eyes away from his mother's face, whispers, "I'll come back," and hurries from the room.

Harry does for the next two nights and Dumbledore had found Harry the last night. Dumbledore had told Harry the purpose of the mirror, to show the deepest desire of their hearts.

Dumbledore had convinced Harry not to go looking for the Mirror of Erised again, and for the rest of the Christmas holidays the Invisibility Cloak stays folded at the bottom of his trunk. Harry wishes he could forget what he'd seen in the mirror as easily, but he can't He starts having nightmares. Over and over a again he dreams of his parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice crackles with laughter. What Harry didn't know, was that (Y/n) was having the same dreams. Repetition from the one on Christmas Eve night.

"You see, Dumbledore was right, that mirror could drive you mad," says Ron, when Harry tells them about these dreams.

Word Count: 3759 words

[eternaljouska]

Bear Hug - Hansol Vernon Chwe

Pairing: Idol!Vernon x Reader (The idol-ness doesn’t really show, though)

Genre: Fluff

Warning: nonexistent

Word Count: 1611

Note: The format is slightly different. I was planning to change it, but my friend said it’s better to keep it this way, so... yeah.

Also, @jookyunhoevercoupshoe​ here you go, i’m sorry, i promised to upload this yesterday, but you know what happened (?) Hope this is enough, even if the moment is too short. DON’T READ THIS WITH TOO MUCH EXPECTATION, PLEASE. THIS IS JUST A FEW SECONDS INTERACTION--5 MINUTES MAX. (Tell me if this is way below your expectation, tho, i’ll try to write something better in the future 🤧 i feel so insecure about this one, ugh)

Yes, he knows. Vernon knows it is very uncharacteristic of him to dress up like this. His fashion taste may fall into a questionable category, but that’s the way he is—free-minded, free-spirited, unbound to the lines the society draws around him. If someone knows him at all, they should be able to tell if the clothes strewn randomly on the bed are his or not, he would bet anything on that.

Or not. Surely, if he cares enough about his wellbeing, he would not involve himself in any more misleading pursuit such as that, moreover if it is initiated by the one and only Yoon Jeonghan. Just like how everything is, the bet started as something harmless, bordering foolish really, and then, the older man whined and raised the stake to make things a little more interesting. And here Vernon is: dressing up as a Teddy Bear in the middle of the crowded Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport as a consequence to his tough luck. He’s supposed to put his costume as soon as he passes through the immigration process. And mind you, it is not even a Teddy Bear onesie. It’s a full-blown mascot costume with the sponge or who knows what it is in its belly. It’s hot and heavy. And fortunately, Vernon speaks English fluently, which allows him the additional task of coming up to at least seventeen kids and giving each of them a balloon and a hug before joining his other members in their lounge.

Vernon is cautious. He asks the airport officials a few times to ascertain that it is completely okay to do what he’s about to do. He’s praying with all of his heart that it’s not, but the words that they told him were much looser than a no. Oh, good God, he’s already traumatized, and he hasn’t even exited the restroom. This is just so not him. He could see Seungkwan in it—Soonyoung or Seokmin, too, or any other member for that matter—but not him. How should he approach unknowing kids with a balloon and a hug and just leave immediately after? What if their parents question him? Oh, how he hopes he’s more than a mass of awkwardness starting to melt inside his burning costume.

“Hi! Hi? Hi,” he says and repeats several times, trying out his various friendly tones in front of the mirror of the deserted restroom. “Okay, you can do this. Hi, want a balloon and a hug? Perfect. Okay. Let’s get it, Vern.”

“Hi!” he lets out in a tone way too high for his liking, which is met with what could be a horrendous scream of an unsuspecting boy if only he’d spared him a glance on his run to the stall. “Want a—oh, right, yes, you need to go to the restroom, aha, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Yes, Vernon, great first attempt. Proud of you, yeah, haha.

His second attempt is better, and his next few ones are decent.

There’s a girl walking timidly behind her father, her short arms clutching around her father’s leg. The wetness under her eyes is still visible. When they arrive in front of Vernon, her father mouths to him that Riley, his daughter, is scared, but she wants the balloon. Vernon nods his giant head a few times and walks slowly towards the girl. “It’s okay, Riley. Teddy bear doesn’t bite. Here, have a balloon.”

The girl looks up at her father who in turn urges her forward to pick her balloon of choice. Blue. She chooses a blue balloon. “Thank you, Mr. Bear,” she whispers before hiding behind her father’s leg once again.

For a while, Vernon just strolls around the airport, past the gift shops and nearing the gate where a little girl runs towards him and squeals in all excitement, “Can I get the pink one? Can I get the pink one?”

Vernon tries to kneel down to match the girl height, but that proves difficult with the compact belly he’s supporting. “Mia,” the girl’s mother chides from several feet away, causing the girl, Mia, to drop her smile and stop bouncing on her feet.

“I’m sorry. Can I get a pink balloon, please?” she asks again, peeking from underneath her bangs. And Vernon’s heart melts at that sight, in a rate quicker than his costume makes his body does.

“Of course! Here you go. Do you care for a hug? You can get a free balloon and a free hug!”

“I love hugs!” The girl jumps into Vernon’s hug, bumping his pillowy belly, with chuckles that help him come into term with his punishment. Well, this is a lot more fun than I expected. “Bye-bye,” Mia intones as she skips back to where her mother’s standing, a wide smile showing her neat teeth still placated on her face.

After Mia, there’s a big family seemingly on their way to their vacation. There are at least four children from that family alone, Vernon has lost count, for then there are a few others coming out of nowhere and circling him, creating quite the commotion of shouts of color. And with the last yellow balloon given to a kid named Jerry—or the way he adorably pronounced it, Jewwy—Vernon’s task is completed.

Vernon sighs, pretty content about what he’s done and given for the kids, but tired nonetheless. He drags his padded soles to the restroom where he first began his mission. He knows that there are other restrooms, obviously, but for sentimental purposes, he wants to use the same one. The restroom’s sign’s starting to get clearer as he gets closer to his destination when he feels someone poking on his back.

“It’s unfair that only kids get free balloons and hugs like that, you know.”

Vernon turns around only to face a young woman of his age standing with both hands folded in front of her, looking at him with half a pout on her lips. Vernon opens his mouth to say something, but words fail him. He’s lucky his huge bear head can hide his gaping mouth.

“I know you ran out of balloons, but can I at least get the hug?” she inquires. Vernon notices her fingers that are actively pinching the skin of her elbow. She’s adopted a tough appearance—expression, tone, and stance—when she first spoke up, but now, Vernon would say that she’s almost sheepish. “Well, I mean, it’s okay if—“

Without thinking further, Vernon finds himself opening his arms widely, welcoming the young woman in front of him. Seeing that it’s Vernon who initiates the hug, he didn’t imagine he’d be surprised when she dives into his embrace, but he does. Vernon takes an involuntary step back from the impact. The young woman’s hold on him is so tight that he can still feel the squeeze despite his thick costume.

The words are you okay? are hanging on the tip of his tongue, his heart goes erratic with growing worries, but the young woman beats him to it. “I’m sorry. I just need this.”

Vernon realizes at that point that his arms are still wide open, so he brings his hands together, closing in on her. “It’s okay. As long as you are, too. Okay, I mean.”

She laughs, but Vernon catches the hint of tears in her melodic chuckle. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he says, placing his hands on her shoulder to break the hug and allow him to see her face. She has her head ducked down, too occupied with the nudging show her boot has with Vernon’s big fluffy bear foot.

Understanding that she won’t do it on her own accord, Vernon moves his hand to cup her cheeks to raise her head, which somehow erases the frown on his forehead and frees his own laughter. Her cheeks—almost her whole face—is drowning between Vernon’s paw, and it makes her look too adorable for him to handle. And she, still with her pouty lips, struggles to bat away Vernon’s paw. When Vernon lets her cheeks go, she wipes her tears away and goes on to chastise him. “What are you laughing about, huh?”

“You,” Vernon answers shortly, half-aware that his word’s going to irritate her furthermore.

“What? That’s plain cruel, Mr. Teddy Bear! You’re supposed to be a Teddy Bear, not a Baddy Bear.” She blinks several times at the end of her sentence, probably noticing how weird that sounded.

Vernon scoffs, “W-what?”

A split second after that, the two young adults laugh uncontrollably, and Vernon’s thought flies to the timid girl earlier, Riley. She had called him Mr. Bear; she’s afraid of him and called him Mr. Bear. He wonders, is that her way of showing her ambivalence between Mr. Teddy Bear and Mr. Baddy Bear?

“Can I have one last hug?” she begins after their laughter died down. “I can’t visit the airport whenever I need a free hug, you know?”

“Sure.” Vernon’s head is emptied of any coherent thoughts as he wraps her in another tight hug. This is it. She’s going to walk away from him, and soon he’ll change into his normal clothing and everything stays in their memory, awaiting the time when memory blurs and reality dissolves into the dark of forgetfulness.

“Thank you,” she whispers, very much as Riley did, and starts walking backward.

“Actually,” he half-shouts, too deep in his previous consideration to notice, “Would you like my nu—no, um, my company, yeah, my company’s contact. You know, for business inquiries.”

She chuckles, the trace of tears has long since gone away. “Sure, I’ll take that.”

Note: Leo @leojov , this is why I lowkey freaked out when you mentioned me and started talking about teddy bear.

[gyusolily]

Good Morning!

Pairing: Vernon x Reader

Warnings: none?? 

Genre: fluff

Summary: “Please, please, please can you put some clothes on?” Alternatively, you just want to have a quiet morning to yourself, all naked and free in the kitchen, but no. 

Stepping out of the shower, you let out a breath, the warm water having created too much steam for you to see properly in the mirror. Your chest felt much lighter after a much needed steamy shower, your lungs expanding much easier and your sinuses less stuffed up than before. 

You reached down, grabbing the fluffy towel off of the rack beside the shower stall, wrapping the downy soft fabric around you as you attempted to dry off. Once you'd tied your towel tightly around yourself, you proceeded on with your morning routine, laughing quietly as you heard Vernon's snores drift through the hall of your shared apartment. Sometimes, you thought that boy could sleep through a hurricane. He deserves it, though, you thought to yourself as you recalled his late nights at the university you both attended, him studying architecture while you decided to focus yourself in graphic design. 

Recently, he'd been staying a lot later than usual, being an intern with a major construction company. The company he'd been studying with had asked for his opinion on a few of their newer structures, some being hospitals while the others were smaller, less significant buildings like parking garages or office spaces in the downtown Seoul area. 

The kitchen welcomed you with a cold, laminate floors, startling you into a hiss, rubbing your foot against the inside of your calf as you tiptoed around the space, slowly letting yourself warm up to the sensation. The air had no doubt been turned down when Vernon got home last night, the boy unable to sleep unless the apartment was kept at a chilly 70 degrees. Making your way to the thermostat, you turned it up, just a bit, not wanting to catch a cold in the comfort of your own home. 

You began your daily routine the same way you always did: a bagel, some green tea in your favorite mug, and a new magazine that you couldn't really tell if you were genuinely interested in or if you just liked looking at the picture. Either way, it busied you until Vernon usually woke up. 

Your eyes flitted around the kitchen from where you sat on the opposite side of the counter, eyes landing on the stove clock. 9:47 am it read, making you groan.

Dear body, you began. You couldn't have let me slept until at least ten? Finishing the thought, you stood, pouring yourself another mug of tea before leaving your magazine to turn the coffee machine for your boyfriend, seeing as his alarm was bound to go off at any minute. His first class on Wednesdays began at 11:30, his alarm going off once at 9:50, then twice at 9:55 to get him up and out of bed so that he'd make it to subway by 10:45 and get to the university within fifteen minutes of class starting. You, however, did not have class on Wednesdays, usually using your spare time for doing assignments or catching up on the latest episode of your favorite show until Vernon got home in time for take out dinner.

You smiled to yourself, thinking of Vernon and your seemingly perfectly aligned schedules.

Letting the coffee run, you tightened the towel around you, running a hand through your wet hair before shuffling around the small kitchen space to take another bite of your bagel.

"Hmm, Y/N?" came a rumbling voice, laced with deep sleep. Has his alarm already gone off? There's no way it did without me hearing. Shaking the thought, you smiled gently, turning to face him.

You couldn't help but coo at the sight of a sleepy Vernon dressed in only his boxers and a loose t-shirt. "Good morning, handsome!" you chirped, leaning against the counter to resume where you left off of your magazine. Vernon's hair was all mussed, his hands having ruffled it a bit as well after he'd rubbed his eyes, one of his early morning habits.

The pot of coffee was taken off the maker after the boy had grabbed a mug with the words "I love you like no otter", complete with two otters holding hands. He'd never admit it, but it was his favorite cup in the cabinet. You listened to the sounds of the hot liquid being poured into the cup, along with the sounds of the bustling streets of Seoul, South Korea as people tried to make their way to work and school. You could vaguely hear the sound of a bird chirping, most likely the same one that had been perching itself on your balcony for the past two weeks. You didn't mind however, enjoying the cheerful sounds early in the morning. "How'd you sleep?" you asked after a few minutes, letting him get a little bit of caffeine in his system.

Vernon walked around you, his lips grazing your shoulder in a chaste kiss before he sat across from you, still not quite all there. "Good. I don't know why I agreed to help with this job, though... These guys are killing me," he muttered, shaking his head. You watched fondly as his hair shook around his face before he looked up, locking eyes with you. He stared for a moment before choking on his coffee.

"Are you only wearing a towel?" he questioned, eyes wide and seemingly scandalized as you took another sip of your tea.

You rolled your own, laughing softly as you set your mug on the counter, standing up to fix the fabric covering you once again. "Yes?"

"Why?! Why don't you have any clothes on?! Our blinds are open!" he cried, yet remained seated as he watched you watch him.

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you stood straight, placing your hands on the counter. "Vernon, baby, you've seen me in much less than a towel. Plus, who's gonna come to the door at..." You trailed to look at the stove clock. "Who's gonna come to the door at 10:03 in the morning? The milkman?"

"He could! And then I'd have to answer the door and he could see-"

"Vernon, milkmen don't come around anymore, you know that, don't you? And anyways, he's not gonna see anything if you'd learn to open the door like a normal person and not swing it open every time someone knocks. What if it ends up being a murderer or something and they barge in? What if I'm naked?" You laugh at the face of mortification on the boy, leaning down to finish your bagel before taking his mug and filling it with more coffee. "Anyways, why are you up so early? And why hasn't your alarm gone off?"

You leaned on the counter, shoulders shrugged upwards as you covered your chest to keep him from having a mental breakdown. "Oh, my professor cancelled class today. Something about him needing a break from us annoying, snot nosed kids? I think he's just pissed that the school had to call him out of retirement because of under-staffing." His shoulders rose as he spoke, accepting the coffee mug back and looking into it as if it was telling him all the secrets of the universe. You grinned, shaking your had at him again.

"Does this mean I get to spend the day with you instead of cleaning the bathroom and wallowing in my lonesomeness until you come home?" You asked, eyes looking hopeful at the prospect of lounging on the couch with Vernon for once instead of drowning yourself in upcoming homework to pass the time.

He nodded, lips pulled back into his signature, gummy smile that you couldn't help but grin back at. "Yep! That means that I get to spend the whole day with you, watching Harry Potter and eating day old Chinese take out! Woo!" You snorted at his soft whooping before standing and throwing away your napkin when you heard Vernon make a disgruntled sound.

"What's wrong?"

Turning back to him, it was hard to miss the soft flush he had on his face, his eyes downcast in his coffee once again. "Vernon? Earth to Hansol!" Your fingers clicked in his face before he looked up, seeming to be embarrassed. "Why are you looking like your parents just caught us with our pants down?"

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck before stammering. "C-Could you... Can you u-um...."

"Can I what?" You raised an eyebrow, leaning your back against the counter, arms folded over your chest.

Getting up, Vernon quickly ran down the hall to your shared bedroom before coming back with a piece of fabric in hand. Before you could say anything, the fabric was thrust at your chest, his eyes still embarrassed. "Put... P-Put that on. Please. You're very... Distracting."

Looking at him for a moment, you narrowed your eyes before speaking. "Hansol Vernon Chwe, I know you are not embarrassed to see me in only a towel when we've been dating for five years and have seen each other naked more times than we can count!"

"I'm not embarrassed!" he defended, looking up at you with a look you couldn't quite place. You raised an eyebrow to urge him to continue. "I'm not embarrassed, just... Just very, very distracted... You look so good right now, god, fuck," he mumbled, putting his head in his hands, causing you to snort, hiding a laugh behind your hand. "Just please put that shirt on," he whined, not daring to look up at you as he also let out a laugh of his own.

"Fine, fine. I’ll do it."

He looked up in relief before letting out another startled sound at the sight of you dropping the towel in the middle of the kitchen to change into his shirt.

"Not here!"