#was drowning under work when I heard about the movie so merry christmas to me I guess | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marmosa · 3 years

Text

if it were up to me.

George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: none!!

A/N: i don’t celebrate christmas, but if you do- merry christmas!!!! i hope this is a lovely treat for all of you that do and don’t celebrate the holiday. i’ve been binge watching the movies with my sibling this past week (we’re on winter break right now) and i was just on a roll (finally got some inspo thank god). but i loved writing this piece and i truly hope you all enjoy reading it just as much as i did writing it. happy holidays to you all, i love you tons <3

***

“Are you busy right now?”

[y/n] looked up from the papers splayed out over the table in front of her, her lips pursing into a little pout of annoyance at her broken spell of silence. She grit down a sarcastic remark and looked over her shoulder towards the source of the sound, the venom bubbling to the tip of her tongue dissolving in an instant as she put a face to the voice.

“Ah! George! Um, a little bit, but I have a moment to spare. What do you need?”

He visibly relaxed when the soft tone of her voice ran through his ears, her inviting smile and outturned posture welcoming him into her space, “I wanted to ask you a question actually.”

[y/n] furrowed her brows and quirked her head to the side, her brain rapidly noting and filing his odd behavior. George was naturally more calm in his pursuits and actions, well as calm as a Weasley twin could be anyway, but this seemed to her a bit overkill. As he stalked over, she picked up on the way he was wringing his hands and the corners of his smile were twitching. It irked her, but she resigned not to mention it.

“Well, out with it already! You’re making me nervous just standing there,” she chuckled, using her ankle to pull out the chair next to her, motioning for him to take a seat with a jerk of her chin.

He let out a puff of air and plopped down next to her, slumping his shoulders into the chair. [y/n] couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his display of annoyance, his eyes flickering to her face for what felt like the first time since he approached her. He could feel his smile twitch yet again as he rehearsed what he was supposed to tell her.

“Okay, well it’s less of a question and more of an explanation and then a query,” he explained, obviously trying to dance around getting to the point.

“Alright, out with it then,” she nodded, raising her brows with a tilt of her head to edge him on.

“Uhm, Merlin, he’s a bloody git for making me do this,” George groaned, shielding his face with his hands and lulling his head backwards.

“Who’s a- George if you keep beating around the bush I’m gonna tune you out and get back to work,” [y/n] huffed, her expression falling into one of mild irritation.

“Sorry! Sorry- uh, you know Emmett right?” George began, his heart twisting in his chest with every word that started to tumble forth from his mouth.

“Yeah, we have nearly four classes together. What about him?”

“Well, uhm, he was too nervous to ask you himself- Hufflepuff and all, so he requested my services during potions. Came up to me, sweating awful bad, red up to his neck, and asked that I ask you if you’d go to Hogsmeade with him this coming week,” George finished the last part with venom biting at his tongue, his retelling obviously botched out of Emmett’s favor.

[y/n] could feel the embarrassment bleed its way into every single crack of her face, her eyes bulging out of their sockets as her brain drowned in it’s process’. She quickly averted her gaze to the papers next to her, grabbing at some blank parchment and her quill.

“That- uhm, wow! That’s incredibly sweet of him to ask. However-”

George felt his heart begin soar at the ‘however’, biting back his extremely obvious shit-eating grin fighting its way onto his face, “Yes?”

“I was actually hoping someone else would ask me to Hogsmeade, well not necessarily ask, more like officiate it as a date of sorts? I-I don’t know, but I unfortunately can’t accept his offer- lovely as it is! Of course,” she rushed out, chewing on the inside of her cheek to try and soothe the discomfort bubbling in her stomach.

“So, that’s a no?” George questioned for clarification, more to fan his internal flame of victory than get an answer for the Hufflepuff boy.

“Yeah, it’s a no- oh! But George, do let him down gently please, I know Emmett and he can be a bit overcritical at times. Just let him know it’s not his fault, I just happen to like someone else,” she trailed off, her eyes glued to her hand that had subconsciously shot forward to squeeze George’s wrist as he stood up to go dutifully deliver her answer.

“Anything for you,” he finally let his smile crack through, his other hand reaching over and squeezing hers, “See you in the Great Hall?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, retracting her hand and turning back to her work as George padded away, leaving her to her thoughts.

As soon as she was sure he was out of ear shot she let out a string of curse words, her head falling forward with a defined thunk, “Merlin, now I can’t finish my work at all.”

***

“[y/n]! What took you so bloody long?” Esme called out from the table, clambering out of her seat to rush over to her friend who looked more than a little flustered.

“Oh you know, the usual, running into yet another ridiculous unfathomable situation,” [y/n] shook her head, plopping into her seat.

“Do tell,” Esme hummed, her lips curled up into an expectant smile.

“Don’t be shy, give us all the details,” Lucile chirped from across the table, pointing at [y/n] with a fork adorned with a chunk of turkey.

[y/n] looked down and across the table, scanning the area to make sure George and none of his pals were anywhere to be seen. She let out a puff of air as soon as she deduced that the coast was clear, motioning for her friends to huddle in as best they could with their seating arrangement.

“So you know how I usually spend my free period in the library doing homework, right?”

The two other girls nodded, Esme already giving [y/n] that cheeky, suggestive grin. [y/n] frowned and shook her off, slapping Esme’s shoulder lightly with a plain ‘ew’.

“Well George came up to me, acting all the more nervous, completely out of sorts for him-,”

“A Weasley twin? Nervous? Someone pinch me I must be hearing things,” Lucile whistled, frowning when Esme kicked her leg under to table in a silent warning to watch her volume.

“And then he spends forever getting to the point of his sudden appearance and it turns out Emmett set him to ask me to go to Hogsmeade with him!”

“The Hufflepuff?”

“Yes”

“Well, what did you say?!” Lucile urged, setting her drink down to minimize the splash zone had [y/n] given them a surprising answer.

“No, of course! You know I like-,” [y/n] whipped her head around, doing yet another sweep of the table to ensure she wouldn’t be heard by the wrong people before dropping her voice to a hush, “you know I like George.”

“No wonder he was nervous!” Esme threw her hands up, earning herself a few awkward glances from the people seated next to them, “he was worried you’d take up Emmett’s offer.”

[y/n] could feel that same embarrassment from earlier draw itself taut on her features, as she folded into herself, “That’s a load of rubbish.”

“No, Esme’s right. If you certain he approached you as awkward and nervous as he was, it’s probably because he didn’t want you to say yes to Emmett’s offer,” Lucile concurred, finally directing her attention back to her meal, “besides, I passed him and Lee in the hall earlier and I caught your name.”

“What-?” [y/n] coughed, nearly choking on her food at Leslie’s far to casual mention of this piece of information.

“Yeah and then when they saw me they went all quiet and headed the opposite direction of me,” Leslie nodded, biting back an amused smile as she watched [y/n] literally melt in on herself in real time.

“You’re bluffing! That’s great news innit! Come on [y/n] you’ve gotta let yourself accept that he likes you,” Esme clicked her tongue, elbowing her in the side gently.

“I won’t because it’s not true. Besides, we’re already going as friends and I think that’s quite alright for me,” [y/n] shook her head, shrugging off Esme’s side eye and disproving frown.

“Whatever you say, Ms. denial,” Lucile grumbled, pouring some more gravy over her turkey.

“If you don’t quit picking on me I’m going to head off to the dormitories and forget this interaction ever happened,” [y/n] deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout.

“We wouldn’t have to pick on you if you’d just admit that he likes you already!” Esme nearly shouted, sinking into herself slightly when Lucile took her turn reminding her to watch her volume.

“What’s all this about picking on [y/n]?”

[y/n]’s face went slack with horror, as her nerves painted themselves plainly obvious on her features. She passed Lucile a pleading look not to mention anything, and Esme didn’t need to be told twice simply by the waves of terror rolling off of [y/n].

“Just teasing her for the whole Emmett thing, it’s quite funny if you ask me. Poor lad will just have to find someone else, but so’s life,” Esme chuckled, scooting to the side to make room between her and [y/n] for George to take a seat.

“Exactly, that’s what I said! Which, by the way, he took the let down very nicely [y/n]. So don’t go beating yourself up over something you couldn’t help,” George mentioned, reaching around [y/n]’s shoulder to give her a squeeze.

“Thanks George, I appreciate it,” [y/n] smiled, ducking her head slightly to try and conceal the water building up in her eyes purely from nerves.

“He’s a Hufflepuff, he’ll cry it out, get a few hugs from his pals and move on with it,” Lee noted from across the table, he and Fred taking liberty to sandwich Lucile between them.

“Aside from him, we heard you already had a fancy in mind- is that true [y/n]?” Fred added, leaning his chin onto his hand, a devilish quirk to his grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” [y/n] snipped back, sticking out her tongue in defiance, “Why are we even concerned with my love life anyway? Esme might be going with Dina, Lucile has got her hands full of potential suitors, Lee’s got his dates for the next month planned, Fred is practically tripping over himself for his newest infatuation, and George’s got- wait, what’ve you got George?”

It was George’s turn to feign embarrassment, the red slowly seeping up his neck until it overtook his entire face, “Well, nothing in particular actually, it’s quite complicated-,”

“Complicated in that his crush is shy and he’s shy and they’re both hopeless but he’d kill me if I tried to help, so we’re all just waiting for a miracle to drop from the sky,” Fred sighed dramatically, reaching across the table to snatch a roll from one of the quickly emptying break baskets.

“When you put it that way it sounds lame,” George grumbled, passing his brother a bitter look, “It doesn’t matter anyway. Hogsmeade is just a bit of holiday magic, something could happen at any time.”

“He does make a point there,” Lucile chimed in, nodding her head in agreement.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, you’re literally living your own version of The Bachelorette- if I can recall that’s what my cousin told me. Anyhow, if anyone needs a bit of holiday magic it certainly isn’t you,” Esme giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at Lucile’s less than amused expression.

“What’s this Bachelorette you mentioned all about?” Fred quipped, his eyes sparkling with interest.

“You’d certainly enjoy it, Fred. What with your lifestyle of charm and dazzling your fancies and all,” Esme hummed.

“Did you just call me a slag?” Fred gasped, faux hurt painted across his face.

“I did nothing of the sort! Don’t you put words in my mouth,” Esme threatened, pointing an accusing finger at Fred.

George rolled his eyes at his friends’ antics and decided now was a great a time as any to slip away while everyone was distracted. He carefully elbowed [y/n] who was thoroughly amused with the electric banter flying across the table, her head snapping to the side at his redirection of her attention.

He mouthed a silent ‘want to get out of here?” to which she responded with an eager nod. George’s smile widened and her made quick work of maneuvering his long limbs out of the table, offering a helping hand to [y/n] shortly after gaining his bearings.

The two began to head off but not without Lucile calling after them, “Where are the two of you headed!?”

[y/n] swiveled around with a messily concealed expression of excitement, offering their friends nothing more than a bouncy shrug of her shoulders before she turned back around and quickened her pace to match George’s.

The cacophony of sounds echoing from the Great Hall slowly trickled down to nothing but a dull murmur, the occasional hallway conversation the only discernible noise through the sleepy castle.

“So, I take it you needed a breather after that harsh interrogation,” George began, burying his hands into the pockets of his robes.

“You wouldn’t believe. I swear they were moments away from drilling me for my Ministry administered ID,” [y/n] giggled, shaking her head, “honestly, you’d think they’d get tired of asking a question they never get an answer too.”

“Very much so. Maybe it’s just blind optimism and a bit of hope that one day they’ll chip away enough at it that you’ll just give in and admit it,” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “But who knows.”

[y/n] hummed in agreement, pulling her robes tighter around her body to try and hoard every last sliver of heat she could as they wandered the corridors of the castle, “so, what’d you drag me out here to do?”

“Truthfully I just wanted to get out of there, I had no general plan in mind. But hey! I’m a Weasley, we’ll find something to do soon enough,” He grinned ear to ear, making a show of his jazz hands.

“I’d usually recommend going out to sit under the stars but the snow and cloudy sky do make that a very unpleasant option,” she sighed, blowing out a puff of air from between her lips.

“Oh! I know, I have the perfect idea,” He exclaimed giddily, “I know you’re going to start out opposed but hear me out.”

George grabbed her hands and drew her to the side, huddling his shoulder to try and minimize his size to capitalize on whatever privacy they had made for themselves in the tiny little niche in the wall.

“It’s not against the rules is it?” [y/n] questioned, a concerned quirk in her brow.

“Not entirely,” He trailed off, trying his best to reel her back on board when she looked more than a bit opposed, “But it won’t get us in trouble- or not a lot of trouble, at least. If anything happens I’ll take the blame, I swear on Godric Gryffindor himself.”

“Fine, fine, tell me your idea,” she giggled, drawing her lip between her teeth to try and get her bubbly laughter under control.

“Okay, so you know all those dusty, old, empty classrooms on the upper levels?” He paused, waiting for her nod of conformation, “well, they just so happen to be the perfect place to practice charms, spells, and the newest collection of Weasley Wizard Wheeze’s.”

“You’re letting me see the new line?” [y/n] gasped with glee, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Not necessarily new, more like a final product. But more or less yes,” He nodded eagerly, his hair shaking with the aggressive movement.

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Lead the way!”

“Say no more.”

***

“You were not lying when you said these places were dusty,” [y/n] coughed, fanning the invisible particles from out of her face, taking in the clothed furniture and dim windows.

“It’s not the brightest place, but it’s not too shabby either! Watch this,” George muttered a spell and flicked his wand, all the candles and wall fixtures flickering to life before them.

[y/n] turned to him with an impressed look, her arms crossed over her chest in pride, “Since when have you paid any attention in charms?”

“Since forever! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He rolled his eyes, getting on his hands and knees to search under the furniture for his hidden treasure, “ah ha!”

“What’ve you found?” She quipped, jogging over to help him with whatever his search had brought him.

“The new line of course,” He grinned, handing her a lovely orange and purple box, pushing himself off the floor to dust the particles off his robes, “Do ya like the packaging?”

“It’s certainly bright,” She nodded, lifting the box up slightly to examine the bottom, “I like the ribbon though, it’s a beautiful shade of purple.”

George felt his smile soften as he reached forward and pulled the ribbon loose from the box, dangling it in front of her, “Well then it’s yours.”

“Really?” She asked softly, setting down the box, taking the soft piece of fabric from him.

“Of course. It’d probably end up in the trash anyway. It’d look much lovelier in whatever way you intend to put it to use,” He grinned, leaning against the desk that held the box.

“Thank you,” She muttered sheepishly, reaching behind her to tie up a section of her hair, “I love it already.”

George could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he looked at her with pure adoration, his heart drumming against his ribcage so aggressively he was sure it was going to beat right out onto that dusty floor.

“S’no problem,” He tipped his head forward courteously, “now, you wanna try out some Wheezes?”

“You bet I do.”

***

“I can’t believe you guys managed to make all this stuff!” [y/n] squealed in childlike delight as she pulled yet another one of their confetti party favors, the confetti charmed to bloom into flowers as soon as they hit the ground.

“It’s our passion, the thing we love most. I’m just glad it’s having its desired effect,” George chuckled, stomping on the now empty box of trinkets to flatten it out.

“You guys are some of the most talented people I know. You’re incredible George,” She breathed, reaching down to pick up one of the confetti flowers, stroking its petals ever so carefully.

George felt time stop. Her words looping in his mind like a broken record, her rolled up sleeves, out of place hair, and gentle handling of the flower an image he was never going to burn from his mind. He felt as if he could scoop her up right there and consume her in a hug so strong she’d melt into his arms and never leave them.

[y/n] glanced over her shoulder at George, who was sitting crisscross on one of the desks they’d uncovered. Her smile faltered when she noted the way he was looking at her, a far-away look in his eyes and a weird quirk to his lips. She was suddenly extremely self-conscious under his gaze and she quickly straightened out her posture, coughing as if to clear her throat.

“I look rather unkempt now, huh? Reckon I was having a bit too much fun,” She chuckled quietly, clicking her heels together.

“You look fine,” George spoke up, suddenly in front of her.

“You’re just saying that to be nice, I know there’s probably confetti in my hair or ash on my cheeks,” She shook her head, eyes flickering to meet his.

Her heart nearly stopped, his gaze so intense it made her want to sink so far into herself that she just disappeared and never returned. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what had him so trained on her. It was almost certain in her mind that there was something up with her appearance.

“Well?” She asked, trying to coerce some words out of him.

“S’just a little smudge of ash, right here-,” He squinted, reaching forward and swiping his thumb right on the apple of her cheek, letting his hand linger on her face a little longer than it needed to.

“Oh- thanks,” She swallowed, sounding far too breathless for her comfort, but pretending to not notice just how obviously out of sorts she was feeling.

“No problem.”

The two stood side by side in their own little world for what felt like forever, until [y/n] felt the bubble of words lodged in her throat finally pop and surge forward, “are you going to Hogsmeade with anyone?”

Her brain immediately wanted to back peddle and come up with some shitty excuse as to why she asked such an out of place question, but it was near impossible now as George was already jumping to answer her question.

“I was thinking it was just going to be Fred, Lee, and I. Maybe we’d run into you and your friends. Like every year. But-,” He shrugged, “I was kind of hoping for something else this time ‘round.”

“Something else?” She echoed.

“Like a date,” He continued.

“Anyone in mind?”

George fell silent, offering her nothing more than a silent nod. Because when it came down to it, admitting feelings for someone when they were right in front of your face seemed more daunting than anything.

[y/n] nodded and shuffled off to retrieve her things, straightening out her dress shirt and pulling on her robes. She could hear George behind her doing the same, a soft gust of wind letting her know he was also tending to the aftermath of their games.

“Thanks for inviting me out to do this, it was fun,” She spoke up, still not daring to look up from her hands, continuing to pretend that she was still busy fixing her attire.

“Anytime,” He replied, waving his wand to send the trash to the bin, ‘you’re always welcome to have fun with me.”

“Good to know,” she hummed softly, “well, I don’t know what your plans for the night are, but I best be getting to bed.”

George wanted to say something, anything, to try and make it clear that she was the girl he was thinking about. That she was the one he wanted to take to Hogsmeade on a date. That she was the one he wanted to drink butterbeer with, buy a cute gift for, play in the snow with, and then cuddle by the fire after it all. It was always her he wanted to do those things with. Always.

But his words failed him once more and he finished the last of his cleaning, offering her a small gesture of farewell, “I have to find Fred and Lee, we sort of planned for something later tonight, so...”

“I understand. You lot are always having far more fun than you should be,” She giggled softly, “But I’ll be off then, I don’t want to worry Esme.”

“Yeah, don’t keep her waiting. Merlin knows she’d have my head if she found out I was responsible for getting you in trouble,” He snickered.

“That is very much true, she certainly would do that. Anyway, Goodnight George,” [y/n] waved him goodbye, shutting the classroom door behind her with a click.

***

“You look far too down in the dumps for the night before Hogsmeade, what’s got you so low?” Esme questioned, hopping over the top of the sofa and sliding down next to [y/n].

“It’s nothing, really, I’m not upset, just sleepy,” [y/n] assured, shaking her head with a weak smile.

“I know you and I know a liar when I see one. Come on, out with it, before I go get Lucile to talk your brains out,” Esme huffed, scooting closer and wrapping her arms around [y/n], “you can talk to me y’know.”

“I know. It’s just-,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself relax into her friends embrace, “Everyone kept saying George liked me and I was really hoping he would’ve built the nerve to ask me to Hogsmeade. But it seems like I was right, and he doesn’t like me that way. I’m sorry to bore you with this topic again, it seems like the only thing we’ve spoken about for the past couple of days, but I- I just wished you guys had been right about us.”

Esme could feel the sadness building up in [y/n] by the quiver in her voice and softening of her tone. It broke her heart to see her friend so distraught, especially over something as trivial as a boy. But she knew well enough herself how much these sorts of things meant to her and her friends and despite her urge to tell [y/n] to just push him out and party, she knew that would be of no help.

“I understand darling,” Esme cooed, squeezing [y/n]’s shoulder, “and I’m sorry things turned this way. But remember, we’re all going to spend time together tomorrow with our favorite candies and drinks, near the crackling fire with the winter blizzard swirling outside. It’s going to be lovely and just like George himself said, a little holiday magic isn’t the only opportunity to confess your feelings.”

[y/n] giggled through her sniffles, rubbing her fists into her eyes to try and dissipate the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She knew Esme was right and though all she could feel was a dull hole in her chest at the prospect of only meeting George as a friend tomorrow, she knew Hogsmeade in itself never disappointed.

“You’re right, no more tears from me, I promise,” [y/n] smiled.

“You better not, tomorrow is about fun, now off to bed! We’ve got a day ahead of us tomorrow!”

***

The Three Broomsticks bustled with business, students of every kind huddled together with glasses of butterbeer engaged in cheery conversation. The three girls had found themselves tucked off in a cozy little corner, giggling about something or other, lips covered in foam.

“And that’s when I turned to him and told him to shut his mouth before we both got caught and ended up in detention,” Lucile exclaimed, throwing her hands up and falling back against her chair.

“Scandal!” Esme and [y/n] gasped, exchanging looks of intrigued horror.

“There’s no way he did that, not-,” [y/n] stifled a laugh, dropping her tone to a hush “not in the common room.”

“Oh, but he did!” Lucile broke into another fit of laughter, her head hitting the table with a thunk as she struggled to real herself back in.

[y/n] finally got a grip of her laughter, trying to equalize her breathing pattern as she scanned the restaurant for familiar faces, her cheery disposition quickly dying out as she recognized the patrons who’d just entered the shop.

Esme picked up on her change of manner and reached across the table, squeezing her hand with a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine.”

[y/n] returned a weak smile and nod, “I know. Don’t worry about me.”

The three girls sobered themselves up as Lee, George, and Fred made their way over to the table all with cheery grins plastered on their faces.

“Well ladies, how’s Hogsmeade been treating you so far?” Fred inquired, sliding into the booth next to Esme, Lee following suit.

“You know, gossip, jokes, more gossip-,” Lucile began, giggling at the looks the boys gave them.

“And lots of butterbeer,” [y/n] added, raising her glass in the air.

“Speaking of butterbeer, here comes our order,” George noted, rubbing his hands together happily as he slid in next to [y/n] and Lucile.

“Lovely timing,” Fred noted, the table erupting in a cacophony of ‘thank you’s.

The table broke out into conversation, some involving everyone and others only demanding the attention of a few. Amusement, horror, anger, and disgust all adorned their features as they cycled through topics, never at a shortage of something to grace the table with.

As time passed they found themselves outside, discussing where to head off to next, everyone with hopes of their own for the rest of the day. It ended up being decided that Esme and Lee would head off to the Sweet’s shop, Lucile and Fred would make a stop at the Instrumental shop for some personal supplies, and [y/n] and George would be at the bookstore. Then they’d all meet up at one of the gift shops to search for some small gifts and knick-knacks.

Before they all headed on their own separate ways, Esme made sure to give [y/n] a tight hug and some reassuring words. The group split and left each other to their own devices before they were to regroup.

“Is there any book you’re looking for in particular?” George asked, quick to keep their dialogue going.

“Well not really, I’m actually looking for a few bookmarks and some new pens and such. The bookstore has a lovely selection there, so,” [y/n] explained, glad he shouldered the burden of lighting a conversation.

“That’s nice, reminds me that I do need some new quills. I have gone through far too many for comfort, my mum is going to gut me when we head home for break,” he chuckled, shaking his head with a shudder.

“Come on, she cant be that bad. Besides, I know a spell to fix them right up, if you ever need it.”

“First off thank you, I appreciate it. Secondly, if you’re so sure you should come over during the holiday’s, meet her for yourself.”

“Are you inviting me over for Holiday break?” She asked, surprise evident in her tone.

“I guess I am,” He chuckled, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I’d be delighted to join your family for the holidays.”

“Terrific! I’ll send an owl to my mum as soon as we return to the castle!”

The book store run didn’t last for very long considering they both had an idea of exactly what they needed, the only dallied around the new shipment of quills that were fancifully decorated, as the glitter was hardly something anyone could resist. They paid for their things and stepped back out into the frigid cold, the snow surprisingly calming down quite a bit considering they’d expected it to only turn up.

“Hm, it seems we still have a decent amount of time to spare,” George muttered, glancing down at his wrist watch.

“What should we do? I doubt the others are finished,” [y/n] exhaled, the plume of air dancing in front of her before blending in with the rest of the atmosphere.

“I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me,” He perked up, that same giddy excitement from the night before written all over his face.

“As long as you’re not dragging me to the Shrieking Shack, I’m more than happy to come along.”

“Brilliant, alright then, follow me!”

***

“Oh, Merlin!”

[y/n] gaped at the scenery, her eyes bulging out of her head as she took in the beauty around her. The trees towered high over them, covered in sheets of snow, the green peaking out as if to remind them that it was still persisting through the cold. A few patches here and there of purple flowers that had withstood the freezing cold, poking out from under the snow. A lone bench poised in the center of it all, the entire place feeling like a little nook they could call their own.

“This place is gorgeous George! How ever did you find it?” She breathed, absolutely enamored with the way everything looked.

“You’d be surprised what you can find with a few years of exploring and adventuring under your belt,” He nodded, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at her display of wonder.

“Yet again, you are absolutely incredible George,” She said, more to herself than him, but still managing to get him flustered.

“I’m glad you like it, I’d hoped you would. Wanna take a seat?”

“Oh, sure!”

She staggered over, dragging her feet through the thick layers of snow towards the bench, pulling out her wand to mutter an incantation so that the snow on the bench melted away, leaving it clean and dry for them to sit on. She plopped down with a huff of content, her legs finally getting a break from all their heaving in their monstrous snow boots.

“I’ve always wanted to bring someone here, y’know,” George sighed, setting his bag of stuff down between his feet.

“Am I-?”

“The first person I’ve brought here? Yeah,” He nodded, a small smile unconsciously pushing its way onto his lips.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” She nearly whispered, taken aback with just how forward he was being and just how lucky of a position she was in, “thank you George.”

“Of course,” He grinned at her, his cheeks red from the blistering cold.

“Hey George?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

His smile faltered and his eyes widened as he processed her request.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask, because I got a feeling-,” She went off, trying to save whatever was left of her dignity.

“[y/n]!” He grabbed her face, turning her head so she was facing him again, “you can.”

He pulled her into him, their lips connecting in a sweet exchange. She felt her bag slide out of her lap as she scooted closer to him, her arms wrapping around his torso, trying to pull him into her the best she could with their awkward positioning. He did the same, pressing into the curve of her body as he held her face like if he let go she’d vanish.

It was a soft and drawn out kiss, the two finally reveling in the fact that they’d both gotten what they’d so desperately wanted all this time. George could practically feel himself going lightheaded from just how overwhelmed he was.

When they pulled away, he had that same grin, giddy joy practically radiating off of him, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Me too,” she giggled, unwrapping her arms from around him to reach forward and tuck his stray hairs back under his hat.

“Can we do it again?” He asked, eyes wide with childlike anticipation.

“You can do it as much as you’d like, darling. I’m all yours from here on out,” She hummed, slinging her arms around his neck

“Absolutely wicked! Now c’mere, love.”

#george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george weasley x reader #harry potter #hogwarts #hogsmeade #mar writes

120 notes · View notes

jawritter · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas Sweetheart

Summary: Time doesn’t heal all wounds, sometimes it just drives them into our bones and festers there, until forgiveness is a four letter word, and it’s to late for second chances.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Written for: @spnchristmasbingo

Square Field: Presents

Word Count: 2048

Beta’d by: @miss-nerd95! Thanks again love!

Warnings: Language, Heart break, Heavy angst, (This one is gonna hurt your feelings), Not really a very happy ending, a bit of a cliff hanger, Tears, past heartbreak, unrequited love. I think that’s it.

A/N: Merry Christmas @msmarvelouswinchester!! Lol, glad I found someone who loves their feelings hurt as much as I do! LOL. Hope you all enjoy this one! Please don’t copy my work! I promise my next bingo one shot will be fluffy. I was just really in my head when I wrote this one.

***MASTERLIST*** ***BECOME A PATREON***

It was cold today, especially for Austin. Your breath fogged in front of you with each puff of air from your lungs that burned in the bitter cold. A light dusting of snow fell around about, not much to keep everyone locked in their homes, but enough to gather on the top of cars that were parked out in the lot just beyond the safety of the airport terminal hanger that you were standing in front of with your bag slung over your shoulder, hands stuffed deep in your pockets.

The congestion of traffic appeared to be even thicker than what you remembered it being, even for the holidays. Everyone that walked by to get into cabs or ubers, seemed to be absorbed in their own little bubbles; either talking on phones or to one another as they made their way to their awaiting ride.

If you listened hard enough, you could hear the faint sounds of the customary cheerful music of the holidays playing in one of the little shops inside of the airport as the doors opened and closed not so far behind you. Off in the distance you could see the Christmas lights strung up in an elegant way on a lamp post and draped over shrubbery in the fading light of another day. It almost looked like a scene from some shitty Hallmark Christmas special, and it made your stomach churn uneasily.

It had been eleven long years since you had stepped foot on Texas soil, and you were seriously considering getting the hell out of here before he showed up, but it was too late to turn around. You could always tell him you missed your flight, or it got delayed by the weather so you just cancelled it, but you just knew that he wouldn’t buy it.

“Come on Steve,” you grumbled to yourself as yet another car pulled away from the hanger you were waiting under, and a happy, probably newly married from the looks of it, love-struck couple nuzzled together to fight against the bite of the cold wind that whipped around and sliced through your bones.

You probably would have been better off calling an uber to pick you up, but hey, Steve didn’t charge, and you really didn’t want anyone else to know you were here. Not yet atleast, mostly because you didn’t know if you were even going to stay.

Just as you were about to take your phone out and call him, the pair of headlights you had been waiting for pulled up in front of you.

You didn’t even let the car come to a complete stop before you pulled the door open and slipped inside, shaking slightly from the cold as you pulled the seat belt over you, meeting a pair of green eyes that were so not what you expected to see, and your heart dropped to your feet.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice sounding like warm honey against the chill that was still making you shiver, and you hated the way you could still so easily drown into it. You were going to murder Steve when you saw him again.

“What are you doing here?” You asked through gritted teeth, and you could have sworn you saw him give out a shaky sigh as he pulled out onto the road.

“Steve mentioned he was picking you up today, and I told him I’ll do it because I wanted to see you,” Jensen said, tightening his grip on the steering wheel and shifting nervously, avoiding the death glare that you were giving him. “You left the night I told you Danneel and I were getting married, and I never saw you again. Not even a fucking word. Then I heard you're coming here, and I wanted to see you. I missed my friend.”

“The term ‘friend’ is a matter of one sided opinions, Jensen,” you told him shortly, not missing the way he flinched yet again out of the corner of your eye before trying to subtly readjust himself in his seat.

An awkward silence fell in the car, and you did your best to stare out the window and not at the man that was driving. Even though your eyes were trained on the blurry and dimly lit scenery you could still sense his every move, smell his cologne in the thick air that laid stagnant between you, hear every deep sigh that left his perfect lips as he struggled with words he wanted to say, but nothing would sound right; nothing felt right anymore.

“What are you doing in town,” he finally asked cautiously, as if he knew that one wrong move would set you off and you were suddenly demanding he pull over so that you could walk the rest of the way to Steve’s.

“Business,” you answer sharply, not in the mood for small talk, but it looked like Jensen thought awkward conversations won over awkward silences and pressed further.

“Business? This close to Christmas?” he asked, but your nerves were beginning to wear thin, and the old scars on your heart felt like they were being torn open inch by inch the longer you sat next to the man that had put them there all those years ago.

“It's real estate,” you snap, turning to face him in the seat fully in your building frustration. “Does your wife know you're here right now?”

You watched as the rebuttal question cut through him as if you had thrown a sword right at his chest. The visible shift and the clearing of his throat as he avoided your sharp gaze was speaking loud, but it only added to your growing confusion that was still somewhat blinding your judgement with old grief.

Jensen cleared his throat as he turned onto Steve’s street, still avoiding your gaze. “What kind of real estate?” he asked, trying to divert the topic, and your blood boiled under your skin.

“So you're just going to answer my question with another question? That’s real mature Jensen,” you snapped as he pulled in front of Steve’s little place, and put the car in park.

“Because I don’t want to talk about Danneel, I wanted to talk about you. I told you, I’ve missed you. You were my best friend Y/N, why did you leave me without so much as a goodbye or even a fuck you if you were so mad at me, and then show up again all these years later on 'business,' I deserve some answers too.”

You shook your head and bit back the tears that the taunting memory of the night you’d boarded a plane to New York with only a bag full of clothes, and the shattered pieces of your heart ripped through your out of repair.

You turned away from his broken gaze that still managed to make your heart clench, and gripped the handle of the door tightly, ripping it open and letting in the chill of the night air that only seemed to grow colder due to meeting Jensen to blow into the car.

“Oh you missed me so much, didn't you?” you asked, pure venom seeping into every word as your eyes threw daggers into his astonishing green orbs in the dim light that illuminated the small space between you.

“Did you miss me when you stood before God and our friends when you did your vows with that whore? After everything when I’d stood by your side, after all the years we had been together, did you miss me then? How about when she gave birth to your three children, and you were standing there in the delivery room with her? Or better yet, how about every time you were balls deep in that bitch while I was only in the next room, listening to you rip my heart out and stomp on it over and over again? You didn’t miss me then Jensen, you don’t miss me now. You feel guilty, but you shouldn’t. You can only feel what you feel and can't change what you want, but apparently pretty narcissistic bitches are more of your taste than people who actually care about you. I was right there in front of you for years and you never gave me the time of day, but one month on a movie set with her and ‘you were so in love. I left all those years ago because you left me a long time before I even landed in New York. So don’t sit here and act like you missed me, when you never saw me there at all like I wanted you to. Don't make me feel bad for leaving when you know it hurt me less than staying here.”

You tore your eyes away from him before your emotions could get the best of you, and stepped out, making your way into Steve’s home to hide from the past that was still sitting in the car outside, staring out of the window as the snow fell on the windshield.

Jensen bit down hard on his lower lip, trying not to choke on the sobs he refused to let out.

See, he had missed you, he’d missed you so damn much. He had missed you when he looked at the woman he settled for instead standing at the altar across from him on his wedding day, only marrying her because it was what people were telling him that it was the right thing to do. That she was in the same industry, and the marriage would be good for the two of them. He missed you during every milestone his kids made that never got shared with you, wishing it was you by his side. He didn't love his kids any less, but even though they weren't yours, he wished he’d have been able to share them with you like he’d always wanted to share everything. He couldn’t count the times he’d hidden away to call you, just to hear your voice, but chickened out over the years because he’d known he hurt you, he’d always known but let you get hurt just to play it safe.

That time you were talking about, how you'd heard Danneel and him before they had announced their engagement, he didn’t know you were even there. Danneel had come onto him and he was a little too drunk to say no. Not that he hated her, because he never could hate her, she’d done nothing wrong. It was his twisted mind that painted you underneath him every time they were together, not her.

Jensen took off his ball cap with force before throwing it at the dash and running his hands harshly down his tear stained face. He’d lost you all those years ago and never told you how he felt, and now it seemed like he was too late.

The cue he’d staged, the house he’d decided to look at that he had his lawyer call her to tell her that his client wanted to buy from the best realtor in New York, all to tell her that he loved her, always had and always will and that he knew how huge of a dick he had been by ignoring her feelings for his own selfishness. It looked like it was too late for any of it anyway.

His hand drifted to his pocket, pulling out the small, neatly wrapped box that contained his and Danneel’s wedding rings. He was planning to show them to you tomorrow for Christmas. He was going to tell you that they were over, and that he wanted to fix what he’d broken all those years ago with you if you'd be willing to let go of his stupid mistakes. He wanted another chance, but it was much slimmer now.

Jensen flipped the box in his hands before getting out of the car, trudging through the white blankets of snow to the front door, and placed the little box carefully on the step before he stood, leaning heavily against the door frame, trying to stop himself from falling apart.

“Merry Christmas Sweetheart,” he brokenly whispered into the unforgiving wind. Leaving his present to you, as well as his heart on his best friend's front door.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @chevyharvelle @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester @idksupernatural @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl @love-jackles-37-blog @miraclesoflove @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @anaelsbrunette @hayleeharling @flamencodiva @coldmuffinbanditshoe @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin @itmejado @supernatural3002 @teresa-67 @thoughts-and-funnies @hearteyes-j2 @miss-nerd95 @writers-whirlwind

#jensen ackles #jensen ackes one shot #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles angst #spn fanfiction #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfic #spn one shot #dean winchester #jawritter #spnchristmasbingo

136 notes · View notes

lokislytherin · 3 years

Text

hot stuff, beware!

pairing: waiter!jeon jeongguk x reader

summary: it’s winter, and you’re cold, but the waiter in the cafe is cute as hell and your best friend is a demon in the flesh.

word count: 1670

a/n: mERRY CHRISTMAS @jungkooksbish ILY (this is not my best fic tho :( i’m not really too satisfied)

let’s all pretend this entire covid thing is over! i wrote this in summer, hoping quarantine would be over by now, but oh well

enjoy!

(sorry i gave myself a cameo again, also my jin bias jumped out)

You have to say, winter is not your favorite season.

Of course, having a few whole weeks of break to rest after months of school is nice - the holidays give you the chance to take a break from your hectic schedule, hang out with your friends without having to stress about schoolwork. As a bonus, you get to wear lovely winter boots that make your long legs look great, and you love wearing large fluffy jackets you can drown in, but...

“Fück,” you groan, “it’s so cold!”

This winter is especially horrible. As if the cold isn’t bad enough, it’s that time of the month for you, which makes everything a hundred times worse. Not only are you a walking marshmallow, you’re also cranky as hell, with your damn hormones all over the place. Your cramps are especially bad today, but you’re willing to shove your pain aside in favor for hanging out with your friend. Months of quarantine have left you itching to leave your house. You’ve been a couch potato for too long.

You shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself. You regret that immediately. Your hands are cold! “Hug me,” you demand, “I’m cold.”

Your friend tucks themselves further into their numerous amounts of jackets. “I literally can’t move.” A rather hairless poodle trots by, shivering and whining miserably. “Ooh, wouldn’t wanna be that guy.”

You crack a smile, amusement warming your cheeks. “Pfft.”

Both of you squeal in delight and surprise when a gust of warm wind blasts you out of nowhere. “It’s warm in there!” You shout triumphantly, heedless of the strange looks a few passerby's are throwing in your direction. You grab your friend by the arm and they yelp, dragged along by your large strides. “We’re heading in there, and we’re finding the warmest place to sit.”

Both of you speed-walk to the nearest café. “Did you even need to ask?”

You stumble into the warmth. The café isn’t particularly big, but it’s warm and the décor is cute and that’s more than enough to make you happy for the time being.

Your friend whistles as they look around. “So this is the infamous Bring The Sweet, huh?” They glance at the violet fairy lights strung low on the walls. “Probably looks better at night.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why infamous?”

They raises an eyebrow right back, but it’s barely a match against your thick, especially-expressive ones. “Haven’t you heard?” They lower their voice, looking around like they’ve got a secret. “Apparently, everyone here is insanely good looking.” You settle in a booth next to the patisserie, and they inhale deeply. “Food will always be better than guys, though.”

They shoot you a pointed glance, and you shrug. “I have a weak heart, okay? I catch feels easily.”

One of the pâtissiers has clearly been eavesdropping, because he muffles a laugh, only to be roughly elbowed by his coworker, who hisses at him to stop being nosy and deal with this annoying Karen with me, goddammit.

The clacking of heavy boots alerts you to an oncoming waiter. You turn around - and scream. Inwardly.

“Hi there, ladies, what can I get you?”

Good lord, this waiter is cute.

Your heart thumps wildly in your chest. His long sleeves cover his muscular arms, and tattoos peek over his knuckles. It doesn’t match his bunny cheeks and absolutely adorable smile.

You’re too busy trying to memorize his name tag - Jeon Jeongguk - to realize you’re staring and being very obvious about it. Seriously, if all the staff in the cafe have the same visual standards...

A throat-clearing and a not-so-subtle kick to the shin jolts you back into reality. “Hot chocolate!”

Your friend disguises their wheeze of laughter as a sneeze.

“I mean, I’d like a hot chocolate, please!”

Jeon Jeongguk smiles at your blunder, lopsided and amused. Your heart’s beating so hard you think you might faint. How could you embarrass yourself like this, in front of a boy as cute as him?

“One hot chocolate and one latte, coming right up!”

Is it just you, or does he wink before walking off?

Your friend groans, sarcastic but playful. “Could you be more obvious?”

Pink dusts your cheeks, a dreamy look spreading across your face. “He’s just so cute...”

Now you’re 100% sure the pâtissier is invested in your conversation. Apparently, his name is Kim Seokjin. “Cute?” He waves a hand dramatically. “That boy is a menace to society! Besides,” he says with an obvious, exaggerated wink, “why would you choose him when I am clearly superior in every aspect?”

“Jin, work!” The tall manager and the other pâtissier bellow at the same time. Your friend’s shoulders shake as they splutter in silent laughter.

Seokjin, or Jin, as he’s aptly nick-named, turns to your friend. “Just between you and me, you agree with me, right? Clearly everybody else isn’t willing to admit that I am the one and only Worldwide Handsome.”

Your friend bats their eyelashes innocently, but you know better than to fall for their innocuous façade. “If I say yes, will you give me free cookies? Those pastries look pretty nice.”

Jin turns away, sulking. “The youth these days are so disrespectful,” he complains, “Yoongi, don’t you agree?”

Yoongi sighs a breath of relief, muttering a quiet “thank God” under his breath.

“Hah? What did you say?” You can’t help but giggle at Jin’s blatant indignance. Even your friend is stifling a laugh, barely managing to thank the waiter bringing them their latte.

“At this point, I’m just glad you didn’t offer them a free cookie just to spite me.”

Jin pouts, ignoring the customer outside who discretely takes a photo. You duck under the camera range, and your friend leans away. “Aigoo, do you think you mean so little to me? We’ve been doing this together for weeks now!”

Yoongi just gives him a death glare. “I’m starting to wish you’d given them the cookie now.”

A light tap on your shoulder with a pen makes you jump. “Excuse me, Miss? Your drink is here.”

You nearly forget how to speak in front of Jeongguk and his dazzling smile. “Th- Thank you!”

“No problem!” Your drink is probably sweet, but his smile is even sweeter. “You should be careful, though, it’s hot too.”

You cock your head. “Too?”

Seokjin smiles arrogantly. “Of course, he means me, Worldwide Handsome, the best looking man you’ll ever see-”

Jeongguk looks the other man dead in the eye, puts a hand over your shoulder, and makes a sizzling noise.

You squeak. Your friend shoots you a thumbs up from across the table. He thinks you’re hot!

A strangled scream makes its way out of Jin’s throat. It sounds like the distant relative of a boiling kettle. “You- You little brat!”

“I’m really sorry about him.” Jeongguk’s gentle voice and innocent words don’t match the shït-eating grin on his face, but you find it kind of hot, actually. “He’s just salty that he thinks he’s so good looking, but in reality, he's probably not gonna get laid before he turns thirty.”

That cracks you up. You can’t stop laughing, even though it’s at the handsome pâtissier’s expense. Yoongi can’t seem to stop his unabashed cackling either. Your friend waves at Jeongguk, a matching devious smirk on their face. “Excuse me, but can you pass me a pen? And a piece of paper?”

Jeongguk looks confused, but complies. Your friend scribbles something down, trying hard not to burst out laughing. Jin, still pouting, shouts when he sees what your friend has written. He even helps them shield the paper from you!

Your friend passes the paper to Jeongguk, and when he reads the message he turns beet red from his ears to his neck. “Have fun!”

Jin discretely steals a cookie from the shelf and passes it to your friend, and they exchange fist-bumps while Yoongi isn’t looking. “Take care of our Jeonggukkie,” he tells you seriously, “he may be annoying but he’s still my big baby.” He cracks his knuckles. “Lucky for you, I’m a gentleman, but I’m still amazing at trash-talk.”

“Oh,” the other waiter says, peeking over Jeongguk’s shoulder, “are you going on a da~”

Jeongguk manages to keep his fellow waiter at arms reach, even when they struggle against him. “A- Are you available tomorrow?” He stammers out. “Your friend said you want to watch the new Wonder Woman movie, and I think she’s pretty cool too... Wanna go together?”

Deep inside, you clutch at your chest and scream. So cute! “O- Of course!” You haven’t stuttered this hard over a guy in a long while. “Can I have your number?”

“Jeongguk,” the manager shouts, waving his hands, “and Jimin, the tables aren’t going to wait themselves.” There’s a fond smile on his face.

“Sorry, Joon!” Jeongguk turns back to you. “I’ve already got your number... I’ll call you later?”

He’s still blushing, but so are you. “I’ll be waiting.”

Fück, you think seconds later, too desperate!

Jeongguk doesn’t seem to notice, offering you one last bunny-toothed smile before bouncing off, a hop in his step.

“Seriously, though,” Jin grumbles, “take care of him.”

“I will.”

A few days later, winter is your new favorite season. You look good in your winter-wear, you’ve got free hot chocolate coupons, and guess what? You’ve scored yourself a hot date, and maybe even a new boyfriend.

Maybe being cold isn’t so bad after all, you think to yourself as Jeongguk lends you his jacket. What a gentleman. Your sweet Jeonggukkie.

42 notes · View notes

softlyjiminie · 4 years

Text

last christmas | p.j.m

⇢ paring(s): park jimin x reader, brother!kim taehyung.

⇢ word count: 10.1K ( rip mobile users. )

⇢ genre: angst, fluff, slow-burn romance, imaginary friend!au, idol!au.

⇢ summary: you couldn't remember the last time you’d smiled, especially at christmas. a time for cheer and joyfulness, but for you a reminder of what was lost. you couldn't remember the last time you smiled, that is until, park jimin came along.

⇢ warning(s): please read! mentions of death, mentions of car accidents, mentions of surgeries and blood (transfusions), swearing, heavy angst (promise there’s a happy ending on this).

⇢ author’s note(s): merry christmas everyone! I finally present myself as ginger and here is my secret santa gift for @fantasybangtan as part of the @btswriterscollective secret santa project! i hope you enjoy it! this fic is loosely based of off the christmas movie ‘last christmas’, but you don't need to have seen it to understand <3

“hello? hellooo? hello!”

you snap back to your unfortunately reality, the sound of the customer’s voice piercing right through your day dream. she gives you a menacing stare as if she’s taunting you with a fight. you take a step back, keeping your head down as you address her, “hi how can i help you?” you ask, doing your best to seem enthusiastic, after all, you are working a late shift during the holidays. you know that the owner needs it to bring in extra cash, it ensures the cafe will survive the winter.

“god, what does it take to get some service around here?”

unimpressed, the customer rolls her eyes and places an order. she watches you with disgust as you walk away, her eyes are burning holes into the back of your neck. you have half a mind to spit into the froth of her latte, but you can’t risk losing another job so close to christmas. fixing the lid on the latte, you almost jump in shock as your phone vibrates in your pocket. the scalding brown liquid jolts out of the cup, burning your fingers and causing you whimper in pain. you place the cup down on the counter and suck the coffee off of your fingers.

“hello?” you chirp into the phone, keeping your voice low in order not to make a scene. the customer is jeering behind you, becoming irate but you ignore her in favour for the searing burns forming on your fingers.

the call rustles slightly before connecting fully, allowing you time to throw a look over your shoulder at your colleague who’s trying to calm customers down. “YN...? oh my- hey! you picked up!”

“what is it taehyung?” you can’t help but growl at your younger brother, the tone in your voice coming off as a sneer. you know that if you were back home, the boy’s boxy grin would have faltered. you flinch with guilt, knowing he only means well. he misses you. “i mean...how can i help you tae tae?”

your voice softens as does your face when you press the phone closer to your ear, you can sense his hesitance you speak. taehyung doesn’t want to mess up and not hear from you again. you’d only hopped since moving out of town that you would become less of a burden to your family, distancing yourself for a reason.

“mum wants to know when you’re home for christmas...” the younger boy whispers sadly into the phone, causes making you grip the device tightly and hold it away from your ear. you take a deep breath and hope it can’t be heard down the line.

“i’m really sorry pal,” you start, half apologetically. you let a lie twist in your mind to excuse yourself from the phone and get back to your work, you don’t want to deal with your helicopter parent of a mother and worrying brother. “i gotta get back to work, i’ll text you later.”

it was a simple white lie. “ah...okay... i love you.”

“love you too tae.”

you hang up the phone as quickly as possible, shoving the sleek device back into your apron pocket. taking the semi cold latte, you hand it over the customer hurriedly and take down the price for having her wait so long. she pays by card, glaring at you before turning to her friends. “you’d think the workers here would be more competent.”

you’re tired, you’ve been on your feet all day and now guilt crawls your mind and feasts on it due to the treatment of your brother. this customer is getting on your last nerves, you can’t help it when you curse at her from under your breath. by some cruel twist of fate the lady with the over the top and probably fake fur coat marches her way back over to you. her eyes speak a million venomous words and you barely have any time to react before she’s dumping her latte all over you.

you barely have time to react, wiping your eyes of the creamy liquid. god you hated this time of year.

after cleaning up and changing into a spare pair of clothes from the employee backroom, you’re sent home for the rest of the week. your boss apologises profusely for the fussy customer and helps bandage up the burns from earlier. working is impossible with injured hands, you’ll be back when you’re better. but for now, a dark grey cloud of demotivation hangs above your head like an ornament on a Christmas tree, without work you have nothing to do. out of a job for three days and no paid leave. it couldn’t be a worse time, with you needing to send gifts and pay bills over the christmas period.

life really had it out for you.

sighing, you continue your trek into the cold and burry your cheeks into the safety of your winter jacket. you hate the cold with a burning passion (how ironic) and you know your mother would disapprove of the thin uniform and worn down jacket you wear to work. it does nothing to protect you from the frost that nips at your nose.

the floor is icy, soaking though your beat down shoes and into your socks, nonetheless you pay no mind as you trudge home, passing the winter market. your heart is set on drowning in blankets and watching old movies with yourself, so focused on a night in that you don’t realise the stranger heading right for you.

“hey! watch out!” you squeal but you’ve already collided with the man, who’s spiralling to the floor and slipping on the icy sidewalk. with his flailing hand locked in your grip you manage to stop the stranger from hitting the floor, but somehow he’s knocked his head on the way down. “oh my god...are you... are you okay?”

hot breath forms cloudy puffs in the night air while the man tames his breathing. normally, you would have given the culprit a death glare and kept it moving but something within you is telling you to stay. crouching on your knees, you hope to the heavens that you haven’t killed the guy and wave a hand in front of his face. “fine, fine...just please stop touching me, you might make it worse.” he mumbles softly, pulling back from you as if your clumsiness will cause him more pain than wanted.

you frown and back away a little bit, weary of causing anymore damage. “right, sorry uh-...” you trail off in search of his name, in which he replies with a short ‘jimin’. “jimin! yes! i’m really sorry, we should probably get your head checked out but the A&E can get really busy around this time...”

without much thought, you offer jimin your hand to pull him to stand, the grin that’s paired with it is sheepish. “that’s okay,” jimin hums and pulls off his seemingly expensive looking fur hat. he dabs his fingers under the fringe of his cotton candy tinted hair and gasps at the small spots of blood that stain his fingertips. your eyes drift down to the cursed crimson marks on his hand, making you gasp as you slap a hand over your mouth. “i can probably get this patched up somewhere else.”

this is it, this is your opportunity to make it up to this...rather handsome looking man. now that you’re staring (you should probably stop before it gets weird), you notice how pretty the stranger-jimin- actually is. his features are sloping and dainty under the yellow hum of the street lamps, his droopy eyes seem warm and inviting and the curve of his lips make you want to- “i could! i could...patch you up” you catch yourself before you start to drool, sending your gaze elsewhere. “i live not too far from here, and it beats waiting in a hospital all night?”

jimin smiles brightly at your suggestion, moon crescent eyes crinkling at the corner and you swear your heart beats a little faster. maybe life, was, on your side. “that’s awfully kind of you, thank you miss-?”

“YN,” you smile and start to lead him towards your home. “YN is fine.”

“thank you, YN.” jimin replies sweetly, following you.

you almost forget your fingers are still intertwined.

now that you think about it, inviting a complete stranger into your tiny apartment probably wasn’t the best idea. after all, all you had to go by was a pretty name and a ridiculously handsome face.

you live alone and have never even met your neighbours, so if he did happen to be some kind of psycho, no one would ever find you.

great.

standing in the kitchen, you can’t help but stare at jimin and observe the way he takes in his surroundings. he’s almost jovial, like a child, but in a cute sort of way. you were supposed to be making hot chocolate, at least that’s what jimin thought when he turned his head and caught your gaze from the living room. the pink haired male giggles quietly as you blush, having been caught gawking, and duck your head to avoid his honey eyes.

“thank you,” jimin mumbles as he sips on the festive drink once it’s made, the heated liquid warms him from the inside out and he hums in content when the sweet chocolate hits his tongue. “ykno, for bandaging me up and letting me sit down for a bit.”

you blow lightly on your own not chocolate, shaking your head. “not at all, it’s the least i could do for almost knocking you out.” you tilt your head up at the patch on his forehead, the cut hadn’t been too deep and you were able to clean it out with some disinfectant.

the chuckle that flows from jimin’s lips is like a lullaby in itself, making you sighs dreamily. “maybe it would have knocked some sense into me...i don’t even remember how i got to the market and i feel like i’m a bit far from home.” jimin ponders out loud, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as you tuck your knees into your chest to sit more comfortably. it wouldn’t be very smart of you, but if jimin was lost and needed a place to stay, then who were you to send him back onto the streets? he didn’t seem like a mass murderer, he’s cute and after all you could use the company.

seems like a perfect idea!

“hey jimin... why don’t you stay with me for a while?” you suggest quietly, grasping his attention as he looks at you with raised brows. “i mean just until you figure out where you’re going next, after all i did give you a pretty nasty scar and hotels around here can be expensive around this time of year...”

you start to babble, scared by his shocked reaction. you’re so far gone into your rambling that you don’t realise how jimin has jumped up and is now holding your hands in his. “that’s so kind of you YN, i’d love to take you up on that offer, as long as i’m not imposing.” he whispers appreciatively, stars glistening in his coffee-black eyes.

you shake your head slowly, captivated by the way he’s looking at you.

“not at all jimin, don’t worry, you wouldn’t be.”

the male with the dusky skies weaved into his shining locks only smiles again, enveloping you in a grateful hug as he whispers a small ‘thank you’. you gently lay his back, feeling a sense of familiarity and warmth settle in your chest.

you embrace the hug and dismiss the feeling, making a mental note to get more blankets for jimin. he’s freezing.

you room seems suspiciously cold when you rouse from the pits of sleep the following morning. faint memories from the night before fill your head while you rub the sleep from your eyes. you remember burning your fingers, bumping into a stranger and inviting jimin into your home.

jimin!

scrambling up, you wrap the blankets around yourself while the fabric bunch at your ankles. you trudge down the hall way, and at a stop where your kitchen is, frowning at the wide-open back door. the outside is coated in a thick blanket of heavy snow, and you realise why it was so cold. “jimin, hello? anyone there?” you call and receive no response. panics shoots down your spine, what if jimin had been a crazy psychopath? what if he’d stolen some of your belongings and was pawning it off right now? you gasp in terror and rush forward to lock the door.

foot steps from afar cause you to jump and you grab the nearest thing to you (an empty mug), preparing to defend yourself against the potential serial killer in your house.

the kitchen door opens and you whack the intruder in the stomach with the mug, dropping it when you spot tufts of soft rose hair from underneath the beanie. “oh my god jimin! i thought you were an intruder!”

he doubles over in pain and you catch him just before he falls to the ground, the second time in 24-hours that you’d injured the poor guy. the pink haired man gives you a thumbs up, wavering away your apologies and ‘how can i make it up to you’s “it’s fine...i should have told you that i popped outside for a bit,” jimin explains and sits down to rub at his tummy with an endearing pout “and don’t worry, i’m pretty sure i’m not a serial killer.”

his light laughter and the warm feeling in your chest put your mind at ease. “that’s exactly what a serial killer would say,” you taunt back and lean over to fix jimin’s hat over his hair, noting the pink rosey tint to his cheeks and nose from where he’d been out in the snow. “why were you out there anyways?”

“i wanted to see the snow, we don’t have much where i’m from.” he says, an icy chill spreading from where you touched him to down your spine. you pull back and lock down at your hands, rubbing them together. why was he so cold?

you furrow your eye brows at his distant look. “where are you from jimin?”

“somewhere in seoul, i travel a lot.” jimin turns to look at you, frowning as if he’s not quite sure if his own answer. you choose not to pry, instead moving onto asking him more generic questions, just to get to know him a little bit.

“you’re so weird.” you say after an hour of sitting on the floor with him, talking about everything and anything.

jimin smiles, crescent moon eyes reminding you of clear starry nights and shooting stars as the snow builds up outside. “aren’t the weirdest people, the best kind of people?”

you hum for a moment, pondering silently. “i guess why are.”

that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

as it turns out, jimin was stranded in your home for a few more weeks, possibly until christmas. the news reported heavy snowfall and freezing temperatures for the coming weeks, leading to most couples being wrapped up warm with cosy nights in.

you however, were stuck working more late nights and long hour shifts, missing out on all the the holiday romance. not that you cared for it. in the meantime, having jimin’s company when you came home from long shifts was always a treat, he would sing you sweet songs as he helped you cook or ran you hot baths to relax tense muscles, listening as you ranted about bitchy customers. jimin was tender with you, so very understanding and caring with you when you were down but willing to go on late night adventures into the freezing unknown when you were full of energy.

some nights, he would disappear, leaving you alone in your dark apartment with the chill of loneliness knocking at your window. being alone was normal for you, even at times like christmas where others would bask in the bright light of their families and friends. you didn’t have that, you made sure of it. other times jimin would come to your home practically frozen from head to toe, he never mentioned where he went or why he was so cold but you cherished every moment of his return when it came by. he was the only one who made it seem like your company was worthwhile.

“boo!”

you squeal and jump away from the oncoming voice, barely catching yourself as your footing fails beneath you. a pair of strong, toned arms wrap around your waist and hold you up, twirling you around and causing you so squeal even louder. hands grip at jimin’s strong shoulders as your laughter bubbles through the winter air. the man himself offers you a bright smile, the rose that inks his cheeks prettily matching the pink of his hair. “put me down you, you pink lump!” You manage between giggles, clinging onto jimin tightly as he sets you onto steady ground. the world comes to a standstill, the spinning making your head feel light but you smile brightly nonetheless. “where have you been? i missed you! are you okay? how did you get here?”

jimin throws his head back in back in laughter at your flurry of questions, running a hand through his wind swept locks. “YN, YN, one question at a time, darling.”

“darling? and did you get a hair cut?” you don’t mean to pry, but after a gruelling day, jimin’s smile is all you need to have your heart warmed and spirits lifted.

“YN!”

“sorry, sorry i just missed you is all,” you shrug and allow jimin to pull you into his chest as you waddle down the streets, path illuminated by the endless santa clauses’ that light up shop windows along with their reindeer counterparts. christmas lights woven into trees, create a warm glow around jimin’s rounded face and for the first time, you see him differently.

jimin squeezes you once, looking down at you. “yes i cut my hair and i had to take care to take care of some business.”

he doesn’t go into anymore detail, he never does. you almost never find out where he’s been or what he’s doing, part of you doesn’t want to know. maybe he’s here for someone else and is just trying to spare your feelings. wait. feelings? you hoped that you hadn’t started falling for jimin, you couldn’t be. it had only been a few weeks but you felt like you had known him but you felt like you knew everything there was to know about him. jimin notices you staring off into the distance, admiring the lights so it seems and frowns to himself.

“hey...YN, why don’t you have any lights?”

“hm?” you mumble, absentmindedly, as his soft spoken voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“christmas lights…you don’t have any!” jimin pouts with puppy eyes, letting go of you in favour for grabbing your smaller hand in his, whilst his fingertips scream cold, your heart screams louder at the simple touch. With a bounce in his step, the pink haired boy leads you over to one of the stalls in the chirstmas market, searching earnestly for a small box of lights.

you falter, biting your lip. “i’ve never been one for christmas…” you say quietly, but jimin is having none of it.

“maybe thats because you don’t immerse yourself in it.”

you watch him ponder and giggle at all the choices, and soon his arms are full of multicoloured lights of all shapes and sizes, along with a few ornamnets and a miniature potted christmas tree for you to decorate together. “jiminie...wh-what are we doing?” you ask, as pay for the lights, unable to say no to his sweet smile. you’ll check your dying bank balance later, praying that it’s not in the minuses.

“decorating, silly!” he squeals giddily, grabbing your hand again and tugging you home at a much faster pace than before. as soon as you step through the doors, jimin is kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket on the hooks, barely giving you enough time as he pesters you to hurry up. with both hands in his, jimin leads you into the living room and twirls you around.

he let’s go of you to set some quiet music up on the speaker, dumping all of the decorations out onto the floor. jimin makes quick work of untangling the rainbow lights, stringing them above your tv as he whines for you to hang some of the ornaments and stockings up. “we’re going to turn this boring old apartment, into something christmasy.”

“this place is already magical!” you protest with a light huff, shoving his shoulder before kneeling down to unbox the tiny tree. “i can’t believe i let you coerce me into buying this…” you mumble and earn yourself a nudge to the shoulder by jimin’s foot.

he slides to his knees to help you fix it’s branches once he’s done with his decorating, tilting his head to look at you discretely. your cheeks hot at his closeness and you do your best to hide it from him. “It’s only magical because i’m here.” you can’t help but smile fondly as jimin takes your hand in his, squeezing it slightly and bringing your linked hands up to his lips to kiss. your heart races rapidly but the moment is cut short by the ringing of your phone over the speaker. you quickly grab your phone, ignoring the contact name ‘taetae’ that flashes on the screen. the music resumes and you sit on the floor, feeling panicked. “who was it?”

“no one.”

“no one, like your brother?” jimin asks, changing the song to a softer one, looking directly at you. you wrap your arms around yourself and shrug, you’d told jimin stories of your family, not many but enough for him to know their names and faces. he shuffles over to you, taking you into his arms as you ignore the tears threatening to spill. “you should call him.”

“I can’t.”

“you only say you can’t, because you’re afraid to…but really, you know that you need him just as much as he needs you.”

jimin doesn’t touch more on the subject after that, instead, he stands and holds a hand out for you. you take it, watching him with wide eyes as he switches on the lights, allowing them to glitter around you and illuminate the room. jimin gently tugs you into his chest after turning up the music, kissing your forehead and snaking arms around your waist. you allow yourself to sway with him as he embraces your vulnerability.

and it is with a waking start, that you realise you’re completely in love with jimin.

jimin leaves again just days after, leaving an empty hole in your heart. you hate that he leaves without a trace, you almost hate how quickly you’ve fallen for him but every part of your ind, body and soul is telling you that is is okay. in meantime, you decide that with your new found free time, that you will fill the space with good deeds.

you want to be kinder, be better and being with jimin has made you realise your potential to be kinder.

at work, you arrive early and cover your new temporary colleague who’s struggling to keep up with the machines and work loads, you even find time to bring in a batch of christmas cookies for everyone to share, as a thanks for supporting you and being your family away from family. you finally get around to meeting those neighbours, finding out that they have the cutest puppy in the entire world, named bruno, who reminds you very much of your little brother’s dog back home.

lastly, you get round to calling taehyung. the ringer brings up a bubble of anxiety in your chest, it’s daunting, thinking about talking to him again. He’s your brother, you remind yourself as you wait for him to pick up, he loves you. you convince yourself that any hostility you receive is well deserved, and hold your breath waiting for an answer. “he-hello?” your brother’s deep voice hesitates, and you sigh gently Into the phone.

“hi baby brother…” you breathe, hearing his own breath hitch over the phone as you clutch the device. “i miss you so much and i’m so sorry.”

a door closes on the end of the line, you assume that taehyung is moving rooms for you to get some quiet, most likely away from your nosey mother or other intruding ears. “YN… i miss you too, why are you sorry?” His voice sounds so confused and genuine, guilt consumes you for abandoning your brother when he needed you most but now you’ve been shown that you have a chance to fix things.

you take a deep breath once more, holding back tears. “i’ve been a bad big sister…”

“YN-ah no, no…” taehyung starts. it doesn’t take long before the dam breaks, and everything spills out. everything that held you back from your family is laid out on the line for your younger sibling and he understands. you spend the next few hours catching up, learning how much your dog has grown and the new music taehyung is listening to, he talks to you about his favourite music groups and you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

you barely notice when the door opens, jimin stepping through. he sees you laugh and sees you smile, grinning to himself at seeing you so animated. When the call with your brother finally ends, jimin wraps his arms around you and coos to you as you jump. the way you look at him like he’s your entire world makes his heart rumble with warmth, giving heat to the chill in his body. “i missed you so much, i love you so much.”he hears you whimper into his chest after you embrace him, he’s been gone for far too long, he knows that.

so it doesn’t surprise him, when his own lips form the words. “i love you too.”

“let’s go on a date,” jimin suggests, leaning an elbow on the counter at the cafe you work at. you jump when you spot him, almost dropping the mug you were drying out which causes your coworker to giggle. she and yourself had gotten a lot closer since jimin rolled around, she even noticed that you were much happier. you admit, jimin made you very very happy.

you turn to him with a knowing look, raising an eyebrow. “a date where?” you question him lightly, watching as his dark, whiskey eyes light up when your coworker presents him with a warm hot chocolate. jimin grins at her gratefully and you shake your head, kissing his nose fondly.

since confessing to one another, you felt yourself opening up to people more. jimin helped you escape from your shell of a person, becoming a much better one at that. the man himself was more than you could ever ask for, he was kind and affectionate and you would even go as far to say you were in love with him. “i was on a walk the other night and i found this cute frozen lake nearby to your apartment complex,” jimin explains to you with a sweet tilt of his head and you can’t help it when you lean over to wipe the chocolate moustache from his top lip. “the ice is pretty sturdy, and if i got us some skates we could play around on it for a bit.”

“that sounds like a lot of fun, why don’t we go when i’m done with this shift?” you say and lean into press a kiss to jimin’s pouty lips. he nods happily at the offer and gives you one last peck on the forehead before telling you that he will meet you back at the apartment. you arrive home from work to jimin who’s dressed in a large sweater and tight black jeans, which hug his thighs perfectly. he hands over a warm sweater of his and lets you change before leading you to the lake. your hands are intertwined, jimin’s thumb brushes over your knuckles as you walk through the cold.

the lake is beautiful, trees surrounding it are dressed in bright lights by your lover’s doing. snow decorates the bank, creating a white blanket that crushes beneath your boots. jimin sets you down on a log and eases off your boots, he remains gentle with you while lacing up your skates, kissing your hand under the light’s once he’s done. after putting on his own skates, the man with the pink tinted hair and cheeks, guides you onto the ice and holds you close.

you gasp softly, stuttering with your steps as you glide onto the ice with jimin’s support. “that’s it, there you go, you’re skating darling!”

smiling gently, you let the boy guide you on the ice as he skates backwards, you mave effortlessly across the crystallised surface with each other in arm. jimin twirls you gently, pulling you into his arms as you pick up momentum. you look up at jimin softly, the lights illuminating his face like the very night you met him. “what?” he asks and giggles, the wind running wildly through his pink hair.

“nothing, tonight is just beautiful and i love you.”

“i love you back.” jimiin grins and pulls you into him as you come to a standstill in the middle of the lake, he leans down and captures you’re lips with his own. they’re cushion-like and soft, and you let your arms snake around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his soft hair. you mould together perfectly, like a key in a lock as if you were made for each other. the kiss speaks a million and one emotions, leaving you panting hot breath into the late night air.

the pair of you skate for a while longer before deciding to head home for some cuddles, you make a move to step off of the ice but jimin stops you.

“don’t move...” he mumbles lowly, avoiding your gaze in favour for staring at the ice below. jimin’s hand it held out to stop you, “keep your eyes on me, YN, im coming to get you.” jimin adds, sternly but you can’t help but cast a look down.

you gasp, watching as a particularly large crack develops in the ice, itching to break through. you have no idea how deep the water goes, you can swim but it’s bean years. a million and one panicked thoughts bristle through your mind as jimin calls to you again.

“eyes up darling, i’ve got you.” he says, making you nod your head and lift your stare to catch his warm, safe chocolate hues. jimin crouches down, wriggling on the ice with his stomach flat against it like a snake and makes his way towards you.

fear spikes up your spine as the ground below you creeks, looking as if it’s going to break through. “minnie...i’m scared” you tremble, as the man himself tries to shuffle faster.

just before he reaches you, the ice beneath your feet gives out and you slip through into the dark depths below. you manage a scream before submerging into the water, thrashing about as your limbs start to feel heavy and cold. jimin calla you from above, screaming your name desperately.

“jimin...” you think to yourself, the world falling black.

everything is dark, every breath you once had sucked away as you stay trapped in your mind. you hate this place, the space in your consciousness where you’re haunted by everlasting darkness. you hate it.

but soon enough the air returns to your lungs, letting you breathe again. you choke out, desperate for the oxygen to rouse you as jimin places a warm hand on your back and lifts you into his arms.

“i’ve got you darling, you’re okay, you’re safe,” he whispers and rocks you back and forth, pressing his lips into your hair line to desperately calm you. laboured breathing turns to hiccups and sobs as you come to, digging your fingers into his cable knit sweater whilst you process your surroundings. jimin has somehow managed to get you home, the scent of your blankets making you cry harder into his chest. “YN, sweetheart...”

“i almost died...” you heave, remembering how you swore to yourself to never return to that place. the darkness. jimin frowns, squeezing you together as if he’s trying to pull all of your pain away. “promised it’d never happen again...”

“what did you promise, love?”

you know jimin means well, he doesn’t know what you’ve been through or what your life had been before him. curling up in his arms, you let salty tears streak down the apples of your cheeks, flashes of cold icy water resonating in your mind. you shove your face further into his sweater, finding him slightly cold, remembering the ice. you let out a watery sigh, and twirl your fingers in a loose loop of jimin’s clothes. “I've... come close before...” you start slowly, screwing your eyes shut as the memories come into play. “around christmas time last year...”

jimins sits up with you in his arms, running a hand through your hair. “take your time, baby..”

“i was in a...bad accident and i lost a lot of blood, i’d never seen my mum so scared and my brother..” you pause to calm your breathing, jimin pressing just cheek into your hair as he listens quietly. “they had to do an emergency transfusion...and i promised myself i’d never do that to my parents again,”

“i don’t want them to worry, i don’t want to be a burden, that’s why i’m out here a lone and i almost lost myself again and now im a burden to you too...” your rambling picks up, the words becoming muddled as you try to explain. jimin doesn’t complain or make you feel patronised.

instead he rolls under the blankets with you, brushing the hair from your eyes and rubbing his thumbs over your cheeks. “you could never be a burden to your family nor myself, they love you and whilst what happened to you is frightening, you fought and now you’re here with them. you are not weak or delicate, you’re strong and a survivor,” jimin whispers sweetly against your skin, letting you cling tightly to him. his words soothe over your worries heart and you hear the words that you’ve needed all a long. you needed him. “you’re so brave, and i love you so much.”

“i love you too.”

jimin squeezes you close once more under the sheets, having a protective hold on you that no one can break. “you’re safe now.”

and you believe that you truly are.

“i think you should meet my parents,” you sigh into jimin’s chest. he’s somehow managed to pull his oversized jumper over the both of you, the warmth of his body clinging to you and creating a tingly feeling in your veins. he feels colder than usual, but you put it down to the light snowfall outside. “christmas eve would be nice, they’d love to meet the one who’s making their girl happy.”

you add with a tilt of your head, looking up at the man with the impressively pink hair. his skin has paled, probably due to the cold weather as well, the sudden shift of his gaze to look at you doesn’t fail to make your heart skip a beat. “what do you think?”

jimin hums, shifting to wrap his arms around you and closes his eyes. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” he voices, barely above a whisper. he’s so quiet that his voice falls into tune with the Christmas music playing in the background, so quiet that his soft voice blends with the harsh crackling fire.

“what? why not? they would love you!” you say and hide the hurt in your voice, your gaze is cast aside to the badly wrapped presents you’ve made for your family. the paper is torn in places, with pieces tapped over it to over the holes. it’s crinkled instead of smooth like the ones jimin finished for you.

“its not the right time.” he mumbles simply and you can feel him withdrawing from you. the warmth that jimin had is now a prickling ice that makes you tear away from him. his honey brown eyes open, and blink a few times as he watches you shuffle out from the sweater. your hands are cold and burn like frostbite, jimin flinches.

you couldn’t help but feel the anger bubble, boil and blister inside of you. you’d spent weeks together, built a home together and it felt like everything was going right. so why now? why not? “now’s not the right time? you don’t think after spending almost a month together that maybe it’d be appropriate for you to meet my family?”

“things are a bit complicated for me right now.”

“complicated? jimin what’s going with you? you’re so distant from me lately...so much-“ you start to yell, standing up now. jimin’s face remains plain, unnerved as the christmas lights flash shades of cherry red and pine green against his creamy skin.

“colder?” he finishes, raising his voice at you, you step back and frown. jimin sits up, pushing a hand through his pink fluffed hair and glowers. “in case you hadn’t noticed YN, i have other things on my mind aside fixing the dysfunctional world of you! you shouldn’t be so dependent on me to fix all your problems.” he spits, and the cold hard truth burns icily at your skin. eyes water as jimin stands, moving to shrug on his coat and boots.

he was angry and you were selfish. you hadn’t learned it seemed. you want to let him go without any last spurts of anger, but you can’t help it. something inside you needs to have the last word. “you know what jimin? fine, leave! i don’t need someone who won’t commit anyway!” you scream, but the door has already slammed and you’d already fallen to your knees, holding in your sobs.

you wake up the next morning with a crust in your eyes and the scent of pancakes filling the air. you’re in the same spot that you were last night, the blankets still wrapped around you and keeping you snug. rubbing your eyes, you sit up and shiver. the room aches with coldness and you miss the warmth that yourself and jimin shared last night. “jimin...” you whisper absentmindedly, the gravel in your voice making you sound tired.

“here, did you sleep well?”

he’d whispered it quietly, but he was back nonetheless and you felt your bottom lip wobble as you noticed him. jimin hands you a plate of pancakes, allowing you to eat them silently.

“well enough,” you say, a mouthful of food tucked into your cheek. the memories of last night cause a pain in your head, but you manage well enough to prevent the conversation from dying. “what about you?”

jimin smiles at you, seemingly different from last night, leaning forward to push a strand of your hair out of your face. “it was fine, i stayed up late to get you something.” he sighs and hands you an envelope. you frown, setting your knife and fork down to open the envelope, revealing two tickets home for that evening. jimin grins as your face lights up, thumbing the envelope gratefully.

“minnie...you shouldn’t have...” you gasp dreamily and lean over to hug him. he says nothing, but instead accepts your affection, cuddling into you.

you find yourself nearly toppling off the couch but jimin steadies you, rubbing your back. “i should have, this is the right move for us. for you.” jimin says, and you find his words somewhat cryptic, ignoring them for the smile he offers you.

the train ride is longer than you expect or rather, remember. it had been a long time since you’d visited your family or even left seoul, but the excitement of having jimin meet them overruled any feelings of boredom.

you wonder if they’ll like him, if they’ll see how deeply you’re in love with him. you know for a fact that tae will, he’d always been good at reading you.

snow falls lightly outside, not enough to delay your journey, but enough for it to settle and form a crisp white blanket for the outside world. you know with winter comes cold and sleeping animals, sleeping plants and sleeping jimin. he looks so peaceful in the light of the snow, it’s pale colour highlighting the soft accents of his features, the slope of his nose and curve of his lips. not forgetting, the sharp of his jaw. you kiss him softly in the junction between his jaw and his neck, covering your lips at the chilly feeling of his skin.

a while later, the train pulls into your station and you make sure to be careful with rousing jimin. the air outside is even colder than his hand in yours, but you pay it no mind as you start to lead him off of the platform.

jimin doesn’t budge.

“jimin, lets go, we need to catch our taxi remember?” you say with a puff of warm breath into the cold. jimin stands still with his hair as rosy as his cheeks, his nose pink against the snow as he pulls up his scarf.

“i can’t.”

you furrow your brows and begin to approach him, grabbing onto his arm as you look up at the man pleadingly. he promised he would make it up to you, he promised he would come home with you. “what? what are you talking about?”

“this is as far as i go, YN,” jimin starts, looking down at you with sympathetic eyes. he knows that you’re frustrated, he can see the tears starting to form in your eyes like icicles in the winter but he stands his ground and resists your pleading. “beyond that point, i don’t exist anymore.”

you blink, ignoring the stares of strangers passing by. “you’re kidding, jimin don’t be so stupid-“

“i’m imaginary, YN, i’m not real,” jimin starts to say slowly, and you stop struggling in his arms to look up at his face for any signs of a lie. “my name is park jimin, and i am a figment of your imagination.”

you open your mouth to argue, question him on why he decided to pull such antics before meeting your family when it clicks. the name park jimin was one you had heard and seen before. plastered across billboards and magazines. written on lyric sheets that your brother taehyung had printed years ago. park jimin was an idol, a member of BTS, one of the biggest groups in the world. when your eyes flutter back up to meet jimin’s, his own are soft and his face shows heartache. you want to pull away from him, to scream at whatever he is, but you don’t want to believe it’s real.

you don’t want to believe that you were lonely enough at christmas to make up a friend.

“you’re lying, how could i imagine doing all those things with someone i’ve never met?” you ask yourself more so than him, stepping back from jimin with watery eyes.

he is silent for a moment, before he takes your hands and sits on the suitcase you had packed. his clothes are in there, clothes that don’t belong to a real man. jimin takes a lush pink lip between his teeth as he panders over how to phrase is words. seconds tick by and you realise he’s cold because he doesn’t have a real heart to keep him warm. “do you remember, your accident at christmas last year?” he asks as your hand curls into his fluffy pink hair for comfort. you nod. “you remember how you had a blood transfusion? to save your life?”

you nod again, hiccuping. “part of the real park jimin exists within you, he was the one who gave you the blood. jimin was there, the only one that night who had a matching blood type with yours,” the jimin before you explains, brushing a thumb over your knuckles as you exhale shakily. “he had only been there by chance, with namjoon hurting himself while they filmed for a show called bon voyage. he saved your life,” he adds. “the colder i get, is the more he fades within you. he may not know who you are but he is a part of you.”

“but why him?” you cry, bottom lip wobbling at the realisation that you were still alone and vulnerable in the world. that your jimin was leaving you behind. that your jimin, the one you were so in love with, wasn’t even real. “why did you come?”

“because jimin is a kind soul and you needed someone to guide you the right way.” he whispers and stands, his hands leaving yours to cup your cheeks. they’re freezing, barely there and you know that jimin is about to leave you forever. staring into his dark chocolate eyes once more, you find yourself lost in a haze of emotions and gaze over his peach face and soft tinted hair, blinking away the tears that threaten to fall. jimin kisses you, letting you clutch into him as his lips mould perfectly with yours.

your heart bursts into a thousand tiny pieces, from heartbreak or love you do not know. there is a fine line between them both. his forehead is pressed hotly against your own, as his lips find yours over and over again, claiming them while his tongue finds your mouth. the kiss is searingly passionate, and you clutch onto his pink hair just to make sure he’s real. you selfishly hope that he is. gripping him tightly, your hands roam every part of him that you can touch, trying to convince yourself that he is real and that he wouldn’t leave you alone in this shitty world.

the tears in your eyes burn hotter than anything you’ve ever felt before, the pain crawling through the ridges in your chest and suffocating you by the throat. you can’t lose him, you panic, you can’t be alone again. jimin was all you had, jimin was the only one who understood you. he knew you more than you knew yourself, and the idea of losing that comfort sends a fresh set of tears rolling down the apples of your cheeks.

the jimin you have now is the one that you’re in love with but your grip on him loosens as he starts to fade. the coldness to your lips replaced with air and not a physical presence.

soon enough, you are left standing on an empty platform, the ghost of christmas and love, written on your lips.

uupon arriving your at your parents’ , they immediately bombard you with questions regarding your festive lover, jimin. each word stabbed like knives at your heart, hurting more than last. the wounds that he had left were still wide ope, showing no signs of healing any time soon. your mother and father seemed relieved when they realised he hadn’t come, ignoring the hurt that spread through your body.

your father later told you that your mother feared she would lose you to jimin as well, making you tremble with guilt mixed with tears that night.

most of your days, nights and evenings are spent relaying memories, like the times where you’d stopped to kiss his cheek in public. you had imagined that. Or other times when he’d come up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. those were imagined to. so every time you played those little moments, the moments where you felt most happiness, you couldn’t help but well up with tears. taehyung doesn’t fail to notice the random changes in your mood, your younger brother is tender with you and lies with you on the days you refuse to leave bed on the lead up to christmas.

believing you was difficult for him, especially when you explained to him what’s on your mind, but he holds you while you sniffle and cry about what could have been.you’re so in love, that every scent and second reminds you of jimin, repeating the heartbreaking cycle. taehyung whispers sweetly “i’m sure the real jimin would had loved you just as much,” one night when you’re curled into his arms before christmas eve. your pup, yeontan curls up with you, licking at your cheeks as if he’s wiping your tears, causing yourself and taehyung to burst into fits of giggles.

a few days before the night of, your parents blind fold you after dinner and lead you into your father’s car. taehyung holds your hand tightly as you listen to the wind whip through the windows and your parents sing along to old christmas carols. the younger helps you out of the vehicle when it comes to a stop, wrapping his arms around you to protect you from the cold. dead leaves crunch beneath your feet as they guide you, the rush of cars to your left tells you that you’re close to the city centre. a few more minutes and you’re walking up the steps of a building, listening to the keys turn in the lock and the door open with a jingling bell over its head.

your blindfold slips off and the lights are switched on.

you stand with your family in a quaint café with teal blue walls and white tables that swirl and curl at their feet. the chairs have sprinkles of gold and silver tinsel, twirling through them and at the counter is decked with rows and rows of sweet treats and savoury pastries. custard tarts, buns and doughnuts. pizzas, rolls and pasties. you smile widely as you move behind the counter to run your finger tips over the freshly installed coffeemaker and gawk at all the teas stocked on the shelf.

“what...what is all of this?” you ask your mother, who smiles with happy eyes next to your father. she steps towards you and takes your hands before kissing over each knuckle.

“we were going to wait until christmas day, but taehyung noticed you needed a little bit of cheering up,” she nods her head over to your brother, who only waves shyly before continuing on. “do you remember your cousin seokjin?” you nod as your mother grins widely. “he recently opened up his third chain of cafes and he needed someone to manage the store located right here, in our hometown. taehyung suggested you, seeing how much you wanted to own your own bakery one day. seokjin has told me that you have full creative freedom, as long as you report back to him with any new tasty creations you have.”

the only word to describe how you feel, is gobsmacked, completely shocked as you stare at your little family with a warmed heart. “say something, YN.” you father mumbles worrisomely as he nears you and your concerned mother.

you remain silent for only a few more seconds before engulfing them in a large, endearing hug, pushing more than a thousand feelings into it. taehyung watches the exchange from afar, catching your eye. “i love you guys so much.” you say, looking directly at your younger brother with a soft, heart felt smile as he rushes over and nuzzles into your long-awaited embrace.

the launch of the cafe comes on christmas eve , with many calls between yourself and seokjin occurring between then. he, along with your family, are there when you cut the ribbon for the grand opening. cameras rolling as you announce the name of the cafe ‘rosey cheeks.’ after jimin. The silk ribbon at your feet is a silent reminder of him, tinted with a baby pink, like his hair. jimin, himself often crosses your mind, many times in fact. although you don’t know the real him, you miss the one that you shared your days with. you miss his smile, his laugh and the way his eyes creased at the corners when he did so.

taehyung helps you keep up with the real BTS, however, showing you clips of their comebacks and the concert date in your country. to say he’s ever so pleased with the album you gift him on christmas day would be an understatement. he beams brightly at you and plants soppy kisses on your cheeks as you walk with him to the cafe. as the joyful words of ‘boy with luv’ blast over the speakers and customers munch happily on treats you’d baked that morning, you can’t help but let your mind wonder to jimin. the real jimin. you can’t help but hope that he’s happy and healthy and part of you wishes he knew who you were, so selfishly. you’re in the back, whipping up some more gingerbread men for the excited children who just mind wonder in, whilst your little brother manages the till.

“come here often?” taehyung grins and wriggles his eyebrows at the girl his age, leaning over the counter with charming dark eyes and a look that would send anyone especially squealing. the girl shakes her head.

“didn’t you just open yesterday?”

she walks away, but not without leaving her number for the flabbergasted boy on the corner of a napkin. he giggles excitedly and swoons over her name and number written in cursive writing, so much so that he ignores the chime of the bell overhead and the slight coughing of a customer. “welcome to Rosey Cheeks, blah blah, how may i help-?” taehyung looks up and through the dark hair over his eyes, pausing when he noticed who it is that stands before him. “you-?”

“uh hi, name’s namjoon, i was wondering if you did orders to go?” the dimpled man beams and waves over the counter. four other heads and a set of cameras pop into taehyung’s field of view, and it’s with one glance that he recognised them as the members of BTS. kim namjoon, min yoongi, jung hoseok, park jimin and jungkook. “hello?”

taehyung nods, slightly awe struck but does his best to keep his cool as his cheeks burn bright red. after all, their album (the one you gifted him) is playing over the radio. “uh yeah, we...we do...what can i get you?”

jungkook and hoseok take a wonder around the cafe, giggling when they hear their own voices as yoongi helps namjoon to order, even signing some napkins for taehyung without the boy asking. jimin however, seems encapsulated. his chest radiates a warm energy that he believes he’s felt before, everything surrounding him seemingly familiar. that’s when he hears it, the soft humming from behind the counter. he feels attracted to it, it reminds him of home and suddenly the boy with the faded pink hair is running past taehyung and into the kitchen.

“jimin!”

his members call, but he ignores them in favour for the voice. jimin heard namjoon hurriedly apologise for his unusual behaviour before finding himself in the glittering kitchen. silverware, pots and pans are cast across the room but all jimin can focus on is you.

so much so, that he misses the pot on the floor, stepping in it and almost falling to his death.

that is until, you catch him.

his dark, homely eyes meet yours in a panicked state, fluttering across your face as you hold jimin up with two arms. a small gasp tears in the back of your throat whilst you realise who it is that you’re holding and this time, he’s not cold. “jimin!” you squeal, dropping the male with a sharp thud. panic is set free in your chest, your mind going into overdrive. the park jimin, the real jimin is in your kitchen. the shock has you reeling as the pot at his feet clanks and you scramble to your knees to help the soft pink haired boy to sit up.

“do i...know you?” he asks, accent thick with korean and god you wish he did, you can’t stand the way he’s looking at you, with earnest eyes and an innocent face because it reminds you of your jimin. wait, did he just speak to you in korean? did you just understand what he said?

stopping your work at brushing down jimin’s blue sweater and black and white striped top, you stare him down with wide eyes. you couldn’t speak korean to save your life, you didn’t even understand it when taehyung played their music to you, despite having family like seokjin who lived in seoul, you’d never picked up the language yourself. so how could it be that you understood him? jimin blinks over at you, looking just as confused, the thumping of his heart and the sudden rush of blood around his body causing him to furrow his brows. why was everything in his body screaming at him to pull you close? why were pictures of you together flashing behind his eyes?

“you wouldn’t remember me,” the singer hears you whisper as you settle back onto your knees, he usually only knows a few words of English but somehow he hears you perfectly. your face looks downtrodden and solemn as he watches you twiddle with your thumbs and jimin can’t help but reach over and grab one.

he runs his thumb over your knuckles and you gasp in shock, but this feels right to him. your heart rate picks up. “but i feel like i’ve known you forever. this is weird, i know that we just met and we have no clue what’s going on but i can’t help but feel that this is right,” jimin starts earnestly, grabbing your hand tighter and leaning forward to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. “i feel connected to you some way or some how.”

“i feel the same,” you whisper back with hesitance, thinking of the words that your own jimin told you. that the real one, flows within you. “do you...do you remember my name? YN?”

the idol freezes, the hand that tucked away your hair is now cupping your cheek but it is still warm. more memories, that aren’t his, flash before his eyes but ones that are, like the day of the blood transfusion sound in his mind. “you’re the girl...from that accident,” jimin says and looks you over. “you made it!”

“i did,” you chuckle, casting your gaze aside as jimin holds your hand tightly. “i think that’s why we feel so connected, because your blood that saved my life, flows within me. you are a part of me, and someone once told me that i would learn many things from you, even if i didn’t know the real you.”

there’s a silence for a moment, before jimin shuffles closer to you and pulls you into his blue sweater. whilst the situation is strangely intimate, you can’t help but feel like this is normal for you. “you were in love with that someone, they were like me. i see the memories you made with them.” jimin mumbles into your hair, as you sit with him silently in the kitchen. you imagine taehyung must be having the time of his life, especially if the other members are out there.

you’re trying everything to distract from the fact that you loved him once -jimins but the way he looks at you so understandingly makes you crumble. “i was, deeply.” you say quietly and cling to jimin, trying your best not to cry.

he carefully tilts your chin up with a thumb and forefinger, letting his whiskey eyes travel across your face. when jimin smiles, it’s like a thousand christmas lights have been lit up at once, and your heart thumps loudly in your chest just by looking at him. “why don’t we start over? and you can get to know me, the real me?” jimin looks hopeful through the pink of his hair. “of course, unless-“

with shaking hands, you grab his cheeks softly and thrive in the warmth that they radiate. you boop his nose after “ i would love to.” you say and offer him a bright smile, to which he mirrors. you heart bursts, happy that the last christmas bought you together, giving you a second chance at a real love.

526 notes · View notes

jungnoir · 4 years

Note

could i request “s/he’s beautiful. i hope s/he makes you happy.” with lucas please and thank you!

like the kind of movie we used to hate;

wong yukhei | “he’s [great]. I hope he makes you happy.” ex!au. | 1.7k words. | angst.

a/n: I LOVE g.soul/golden, and he recently released this song which fits this so well. funnily enough, I started writing this before I heard it and I realized how well it worked, so here you go!

Were you satisfied with the martyr Yukhei made of himself for you?

There was a good enough chance the invitation ended up in his mailbox by mistake, or perhaps it was just a ploy to get him to send money in lieu of attending (money which he didn’t really have the heart to be giving out, rough times and all that), but whatever the reason behind the palpable surprise on your face, he was here. Wong Yukhei, the boy you’d fallen in love with before he’d fallen in love with you, not the boy who was still in love with you after you’d fallen out of love with him.

He jokes around with your mutual friends, most of them surprisingly paired up and two-by-two leaving early to be mushy in private, and he grins all toothy when you and your new fiancé stand at the head of the table to thank everyone for coming to the celebration dinner. He swallows down the expensive steak you both were paying for even though he hadn’t had a real appetite since he’d decided he would come, chasing it down with even more expensive red wine. He hoped he was reminding��you of the person you almost married.

By the end of the night, he’s completely exhausted himself and knows he needs to go soon, so he announces his departure loudly to the table, earning a chorus of complaints and pleas for him to stay, and then he rounds around to you and your soon-to-be and gives you both quick, friendly hugs. He hugs you first, just to get it out of the way, trying not to nuzzle into your neck like he used to, and then he’s on his way to the men’s room to relieve himself of all that “rich ass grape juice”. That earns another round of laughs fit for a completely inconspicuous exit.

Then he’s leaning over the sink with cold water running off his face in rivets to wake himself up from this ugly dream.

This was so much - way too much - and why was he so stupid as to actually come? Was it his pride, wary of being wounded by the possibility of you taking his absence as submission? Maybe it was his friends who all pressured him to “get the closure he needed”, probably because he might not get an accidental invitation to the wedding. Perhaps it was both, or the unshakeable need to see you in person again.

He saw you online, of course. You both agreed to be friends and so he saw the Insta posts of you and your fiancé cuddling at his place before he muted your account. He also got the obligatory “Happy birthday!” “Merry Christmas!” and “Happy New Year!” texts you copy and pasted to everyone, of which he replied to hours too late under the guise of having been too busy to see when you’d sent it. That was it. He missed being able to look you in the eyes, and yet he barely did any of that tonight.

Someone enters the restroom and he immediately straightens up, grabbing a few paper towels to dab his face dry as he cracks a heartless joke, “Must be more of a lightweight on the good stuff than I thought.” The guy gives him a good-hearted chuckle and goes about his business. Yeah, this isn’t the place to have a fucking breakdown, Yukhei.

Gathering himself together, he tosses his trash and checks himself over once more. The collared shirt he wears feels so stiff on him and he just can’t wait to pull it off on the car ride home, so he pops open a few buttons at the top in hopes it’ll help him breathe a bit better. His eyes are just tinged a little red, but it’ll be fine. He can take the back exit out.

Just as Yukhei is leaving the restroom, he is startled to see someone in his way. He immediately apologizes for the close collision, not thinking anything of it with his gaze set on the exit.

“Yukhei?”

Oh god, he hates how quickly he looks back at you.

You’re standing there, hands wringing each other as you smile up at him albeit half-heartedly, “Sorry, you were about to leave. I won’t keep you.”

The stupid part of him that misses hearing your voice is what keeps him standing there, shaking his head and smiling gently at you. He shoves his hands into his pants lackadaisically, shrugging, “I’m not in too much of a hurry. Called an Uber. I’d just be waiting outside in the cold until then.” He’d ordered one twenty minutes before he’d even worked up the courage to say his goodbyes.

Your eyes widen a little and you nod, “Oh! You know, we were just about to leave. I’m sure we could drop you off at home. There’s no need to waste the money.”

Riding in the back of your fiancé’s sedan? He’d rather choke. “Nah, it’s ok. I’m… I’m actually headed somewhere else, so I wouldn’t wanna trouble you.”

“A party?” You inquire. You’re still wringing your hands.

“A friend’s place, actually.” He lazily smirks and hopes that you don’t ask who so he won’t have to make the lie any more intricate.

There’s a slight dimming in your eyes when he says that. It’s so potent, the look on you that says you’re aching to ask, but you think better of it because you clamp your lips together in a tight-lipped smile. Tonight might be too much, but you weren’t looking to make it any more than it already was. “Ah. Got you. I hope you get there safely, then. Make sure you check the license plate before you get in and let m- your friend know who you’re riding with. It’s dangerous.”

How familiar a worry this was for you. He recalled a time when you were telling him to do such a thing with you. Apparently, you did too.

“’course. I’ll be good. You two get home safely too, okay? Don’t get handsy behind the wheel.” Yukhei hopes that his joke is both the right amount of detached and friendly as he can muster right now. He’s got just enough energy to keep this up for a few more minutes.

You look a little scandalized, but humor him with a laugh, “Yeah, you know how I get on a few drinks.”

Rolling his lips inward to wet them, Yukhei gives you a nod and a hum, turning his body toward the exit. He just hopes that your fiancé won’t come over to collect you, put his hands on your waist, whisper in your ear and bask in the triumphant glow of being the one who you decided to marry. He doesn’t have that much energy.

You must become aware that he’s becoming disinterested in the subject matter, because you quickly start talking again, “Hey, um, I hope tonight was alright… I didn’t want to leave you out of this, you know? You… I love you, you know? I wanted you to be here, and I’d like you to be at the wedding too, but I don’t want… I think I made you uncomfortable.”

Oh, you thought that much? Perhaps you weren’t as heartless as he’d initially thought that day he’d received the invitation.

Truthfully, there was a lot he could say right now. He was sure most of it you’d hate to hear but would feel so good coming off his chest. He was also sure most of it would get him kicked out for causing a scene, to which… well, as his patience wanes, he isn’t sure he’ll give much of a shit about. Most of it was for his phone, tucked away in notes that no one would ever read and that he’d hopefully be able to delete one day.

It’s just… this one bit that slips out anyway. “I was surprised… but I’m glad you wanted me here. I… um,” a pained laugh escapes him, “I think you got a good thing going here, sweetness. He’s great. I hope he makes you happy. I promise I’m good. Missed seeing you is all.” His eyes are burning again, fuck. He really needs to get out of here.

“Oh, okay,” you whisper, having the gall to look conflicted over it for a moment, “yeah, I missed seeing you too. Seeing you and our friends tonight again reminded me of old times. I just realized how much I missed that, and how much I want it back. I’d like for us all to do something like this again sometime, maybe without… my fiancé.” Laughing, you shrug your shoulders. At the same time, the same guy from before walks out of the men’s room, nearly bumping into you. Yukhei’s hand leaves his pocket in hopes of pulling you out of the way, perhaps to him, but the man catches himself in time.

“Oops, sorry.” The guy laughs towards you and then, finally noticing Yukhei there probably looking a right disaster, raises his brows and quickly excuses himself.

To his great relief, Yukhei’s phone beeps in his pocket and he quickly fishes it out, practically crying at the sight of the arrival notification. He looks up at you and gives you a quick smile, “Yeah! How about you text me about it later? I’d love to catch up more. My ride’s here though, so I gotta go.”

Sighing, you nod, “For sure! See you later, Yukhei! Be safe.”

He mutters something of a response to that as he quickly pushes his way out of the exit, waving over his shoulder and jogging his way to the front where his ride awaits. With everything sorted, he climbs in the back and breathes the biggest sigh of relief of the night when the car pulls off. He’s even more relieved that his driver isn’t talkative, playing a low indie song over the speakers that thankfully drowns out his attempts at concealing his sniffling. If his driver can hear, he doesn’t mention it.

But it’s just the first night. If you weren’t pulling his leg, there’d be plenty more, and with each one, seeing you would get easier. Post-breakup friendships suck, but it’ll come with time. You’ve moved on already, he’ll follow along soon enough. Eventually, he’d stop hating everything. This was just the first night.

#lucas scenarios #yukhei scenarios #lucas imagines #yukhei imagines #lucas #wong yukhei #nct scenarios #wayv scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct #wayv #majwrites #sbmusings

133 notes · View notes

benscursedkid · 4 years

Text

pairing: robin novak x merula snyde

words: 3.046

genre: fluff... just lots a fluff

modern!au, muggle!au, christmas fic (sort of), planetarium worker!robin

a/n: my gift to morgan– aka @protegoparacosm for the first annual hphm secret santa event @hphm-secretsanta! merry christmas morgan, i hope you like it! it took me a while to finish because the first half just wrote itself but then i got super busy with exams and it was. a lot. but this was super fun to write so i hope you enjoy it! i hope i got robin right, i tried to write her as a really fun, happy person! she seems really cool and i hope we get to see more of her!

*disclaimer: the last time i went to a planetarium i was five years old so this is absolutely in no way a proper portrayal of what it’s like to be an employee at one. bls excuse the probably many inaccuracies! also i got all of my research for the stars and constellations mentioned in this fic here!

When Robin had asked for Merula to meet her at work, she didn’t question it, but when she told her to meet her at the building close to midnight… well, let’s just say the girl’s lucky she likes her.

Which is how she found herself here; alone on an empty street with frost in her hair and snow in her boots. The harsh wind picks up, it pushes through her hair and bites at her cheeks. Her entire face feels so frozen, she hasn’t been able to feel it for seven minutes. God, only Robin could get her out here in the cold in the middle of the night. The things she does for that girl.

Meanwhile, the snow crunches and compacts under her boots, a few flakes falling through the rim every now and again. It’s the only thing she can hear, apart from the wind whistling in her ears and the shivers that run down her spine. She wishes she could get out her phone and use it for a flashlight, but in her haste out the door, she’s forgotten to grab gloves and she prefers her fingers on her hand, thank you.

The sky overhead is bleak, with storm clouds rolling about and blocking any stars from view. Even the moon is barely peeking through, blinking down at her in pity. This leaves her only other source of light down to that of the street lights that flicker eerily as if watching her walk past.

Still, she marches on. She doesn’t know what Robin has planned, but now she’s desperate to find out.

Finally, after what feels like way too long outside, Merula rounds the corner and the big dome building comes into view. She sighs in relief, all too eager to get out of the cold. However, when she nears the doors, she comes across a truly atrocious sight.

Her knuckles come down harshly on the window of Robin’s car and the blonde hurries to shut off her radio. She waves her hand for Merula to stand back and she complies, allowing her to open her door and climb from the driver’s seat.

She looks perfectly warm! While she’s been out here freezing her ass off!

She goes to tell her as much too, but Robin’s already beat her to it.

“Oh my God, Merula!” Robin fusses, eyes wide and riddled with concern. A hand comes up to her cheek and it’s warm to the touch. Merula bites her lip to keep from leaning into it. A hiss pushes past Robin’s teeth. “You’re freezing! Why didn’t you take your car?!”

Merula shrugs, feigning nonchalance as the blonde worries over her. “I didn’t tell you?” At Robin’s insistence, she nods and waves it off. “I took it into the shop yesterday because the breaks seemed off. No big deal.”

“No big deal?!” Robin gasps as if the words she'd heard were downright absurd. “Merula! I never would have asked you to meet me here if I’d known that! Or I at least would have offered you a ride!”

She huffs and insists that she’s fine, but Robin doesn’t seem to take it. She even unfolds her scarf and goes to wrap it around Merula’s neck instead. A flurry of protests are on the tip of her tongue when Robin levels her with a pointed glare that's more cute than anything else.

“No and’s, if’s, or but’s,” The girl declares, wounding the scarf right around her neck and chin. “You need it more than I do.”

Merula grumbles, but relents nonetheless, knowing that if ever there were a person more stubborn than herself it’d be Robin. Once it’s done, she nods to herself and smiles, proud of her handiwork.

“Now, for what we came for.”

Without further ado, Robin beckons Merula over to the doors, swiftly unlocking them and pushing them open. With an eerie creak that sounds straight from some horror movie, the two of them step inside.

The whole building is silent, not a single sound to be heard within the walls. The air between them lingers as if listening in on them. It almost feels like there’s something in it, something lost and light. A sense of anxious excitement crawls up her back, the kind that reminds her of her reckless teenage years. She feels ready to storm the halls and raid the storage closets, if only because she can. It’s the type of feeling one can only get from being completely and utterly alone someplace, free to behave as one pleases.

Except she’s not alone.

She has Robin.

The girl in question takes in a steady breath and, without word, struts over to the front desk. She seems to scramble around for something until a small “aha” escapes her and she dwells even deeper into the back. Merula waits another handful of moments before the sound of a whirring machine starts up and the overhead lights flicker on above her.

It's a lot bigger in here with the lights on.

“Not that this isn’t so much fun,” Merula calls out, unsure if Robin can even hear her back there, an eyebrow arched and a hand on her hip. “But what are we doing here in the middle of the night?”

A clatter here and a tumble there and Robin finally emerges from the closet, swinging a ring of keys around her index finger. With a beaming smile and a skip in her step, she brushes last Merula down the farthest hall to the left, past where the employees would usually start the museum tour.

“Why don’t you follow me and find out?”

Her eyebrows wiggle and Merula wants to laugh, she really does because it’s just so cute. But she steadies her glare and Robin shrugs and turns back around, continuing forth.

A sigh and another moment later, she’s right on her heels. A smirk makes its way onto Robin’s face as she side eyes her companion. Merula looks away.

It feels weird, she thinks, to be here at all when it feels like the rest of the world is asleep. Tucked snuggly into their beds, no one has any idea what the two of them are up to in the large, empty building. They have free reign here, and Merula doesn’t know where to start. Though, it seems that Robin does.

The only sounds that can be heard are those of their footsteps reverberating off the walls and the rattling of keys on the ring in Robin’s hands. Even the machines have drowned out, leaving the shiver threatening to rack her shoulders and the darkness of the shadows to her imagination.

“Robin,” Merula questions once they arrive to the door of the dome room, her companion already stopping to unlock the grand doors. “Most people on Christmas Eve are probably at home, under blankets and by a fire, watching low-quality holiday moves and filling up on sugar cookies.”

Robin laughs, a most lighthearted and heavenly sound. Merula thinks it sounds almost like the jingling of little bells and a smirk threatens to curve her lips upward.

She turns around to face her, the door unlocked and waiting in her hands. She arches a brow. “Do either of us look like most people to you?”

This time, she doesn’t try to fight the wicked smile that paints her face, even allowing for a laugh to bubble from her throat. “No,” she says. “I guess not.”

Nodding to her herself, Robin releases the doors from her grip and takes a step back. An arm is tucked behind her back and the other spreads wide, gesturing to the vast darkness inside.

With a smile on her face and a knowing look in her eye, Robin asks, “Well, Miss Snyde, it seems we’ve come to the end of the line.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” Robin grins, the sight alone almost enough to render her speechless. “After you.”

She hesitates briefly, her eyes unable to distinguish or recognize anything in the room waiting for her. Robin notices, and a hand falls on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” She assures her, her voice soft and promising. “The lights are in the back. I just have to turn them on.”

Merula nods, more to herself than anyone else, and struts confidently into the dome room. Robin’s own footfalls echo after her as they wander deeper into the place. For a second, Merula almost forgets where she is, no longer worried about her lack of proper sight, and runs straight into something solid.

A small oof escapes her, echoing across the room. The object doesn’t reach up farther past her stomach and she has to catch herself before falling over on top of it.

“Sorry,” Robin shouts, her voice now farther away than she thought. “That was probably just one of the seats. Just stay there for a second while I get the lights on.”

Merula grumbles quietly but complies, not too keen on walking into something else. It doesn’t take more than a minute before the sound of a switch flipping catches her ears and the lights come on. However, they aren’t quite what Merula expected.

The auditorium lights remain off while the ceiling constellations fade into view overhead.

Really, it’s nothing new. Merula, admittedly, had never really been much of an astronomy fan before she met Robin. Since they became friends, or whatever it is that they are, she’s seen all of the shows in the planetarium about five times each. Of course, this was before she realized she didn’t have to make excuses to keep showing up at Robin’s work to see her…

Though she has to say, she doesn’t think she’s seen this one before.

“It’s new,” Robin declares, suddenly at her side. The blonde girl smiles and her eyes extend across the ceiling. “Filius and Sybil decided to get a new show since the planetarium has been rising in popularity lately.”

Merula nods along, but the words have flown completely over her head. Suddenly the only thing she can focus on is the way the projector’s image reflects across her face in sparkling constellations. The stars glimmer in the dark, in random places like her cheekbone, her chin, woven into her pretty gold hair. She swears she can even find them in the beautiful blue of her eyes…

She’s all too enchanting.

“...technically this show is supposed to be for Valentine’s Day, but they wanted it in advance. To get it out of the way now since they were doing their holiday shopping, anyway.... Merula?”

She blinks. Once, twice. Robin’s looking at her expectanty, her head tilted in bemusement. “Uh, yeah. That probably is easier,” She stammers, looking away as her cheeks begin to grow hot.

Robin hums. “Yeah, that’s what I said, too.”

A beat.

Neither of them say a word. They just stand there, looking intently at the scene above. It’s truly extraordinary, Merula thinks, just how insignificant they are in the grand scheme of things. There’s whole worlds and galaxies out there beyond this planet, this city… this planetarium where two girls stand, admiring the universe laid out before them.

Merula chances a glance back to Robin.

She smiles.

It’s true; Merula is probably insignificant, but when she looks at Robin, with constellations in her eyes, galaxies on her tongue and stardust in her bones…

It’s hard to imagine that everything in existence wasn’t made just for her.

“C’mon,” Robin whispers, a hint of mischief in her voice as she smiles at her. Her fingers, warm and delicate, lace through Merula’s and she tugs ever so gently. “Let’s find some seats!”

Merula lets herself be dragged, pretending she doesn’t love the way Robin bounces in excitement. “Oh yes, because they’ll be gone if we don’t hurry.”

Robin snorts, but continues on, ignoring Merula’s signature sarcasm. They twist and turn through rows and rows before Robin stops them in the dead center of the room, pulling her down to sit next to her.

“Do you recognize any of these constellations?” Robin mouths, quiet despite the fact that they’re here alone.

Merula shakes her head. “No, not really,” She says, allowing her gaze to sweep over the sky, unable to identify most of the new constellations. “The only ones I’m familiar with are the ones in the other shows.”

Robin nods, clicking her tongue as she looks for one in particular to point out. It takes only a few seconds for her arm to spring from beneath her chin as the points to a random cluster of stars.

“That one there to your left— no your other left, yeah that —is Deneb from the Cygnus constellation. Y’know, the Swan?” Merula nods, though she’s hardly able to discern what exactly she’s looking at. Still, she loves when Robin gets excited and wouldn’t dare question her now. “And slightly southeast is Altair from Aquila, that’s the Eagle, and then if you look up a little past the Milky Way you’ll find the Harp constellation, Lyra. At the top lies the star called Vega. Together those three stars make up the Summer Triangle.”

She goes to form a triangle with her finger, weaving effortlessly through the air. Then her hand slinks back down to her side and her eyes slide over to Merula. They shine amorously in the constellation light and look her over curiously, inquisitively.

Robin motions up to where she was just mapping out the constellations, jutting her chin up towards the stars. “Have you ever heard the story of Vega and Altair, Merula?”

She shakes her head, forgetting momentarily how to speak. “N-No, can’t say I have,” Robin hums and Merula licks her lips that have since gone dry. She takes in a breath. “Tell it to me.”

Merula thinks she sees a smile curving her lips, but it’s a bit too dark to say for sure. Robin’s arm sticks back out to trace a line between a star that shines a brilliant blue and one down and a little to the left, noticeably less bright than the former.

“Well, the bright one up top is Vega. Several thousand years ago it was known as the North Star, now though, it still holds the title as the fifth-brightest star in Earth’s night sky and second-brightest in the Northern Hemisphere. The other one at the bottom is Altair. It’s still respectably bright, the twelfth-brightest in the sky, so it’s pretty distinguishable on its own for the most part. Though, I usually identify it by its proximity to Vega and the Milky Way.”

Robin goes to draw the line again and this time Merula can see it, the imaginary bridge it makes across the Milky Way.

“The myth’s true origins have been traced back to China, but it’s most popular in Japan nowadays,” A sweet sigh passes between them as if Robin is recalling a magical fairy tale from her childhood days. Perhaps she is, Merula wonders.

“The myth says that Vega was a celestial princess in the heavens, a Goddess of the Sky. Though, she remained very lonely in her immortality as she was always alone. But one day, a mortal named Altair caught her eye,” Her voice seems fragile now, soft like fallen snow and clouds and candies made from sugar. And though Merula couldn’t quite see it, she could feel the way her lips curl up into a smile. “She descended from the heavens to meet him and soon fell deeply in love with him as they spent more time together. Vega then promised Altair that when he dies, they will both go up into the heavens so they could be together forever.”

“I’m assuming that’s not exactly how things went down.”

Robin shakes her head.

“Vega’s father became furious when he heard the news. Not only had his daughter fallen for a mortal, but she promised to bring him with her to the heavens? That just couldn’t do.”

“So what happened?” Merula found herself asking before she even registered that she was speaking.

“Well, he decided to fulfill her wish in the cruelest of fashions,” Robin shrugs, her eyes glued to the stars. “On the day of Altair’s death, the two lovers were placed in the sky as stars, yet while they were both in the heavens, they found that they had been separated by the great Celestial River— that’s the Milky Way.”

Somewhere along the line, Merula had leaned in close to Robin. So close, in fact, that should Robin turn to face her their noses would surely touch. Robin’s hand still sits heavily in Merula’s, warming her palm as she draws soothing circles across the brunette’s knuckles.

Merula bites her lip and allows her head to fall onto Robin’s shoulder. “What did they do about it?”

Robin chuckles and leans her own head against Merula’s, giving her hand a small squeeze. “The only thing they could do,” Merula’s eyes fall closed as she listens to the soft harmony of Robin’s voice, falling languidly into ecstasy. “Once a year on the seventh night of the seventh moon—July sixth —Altair would journey across the river on a bridge made of magpies to see Vega. They were only allowed this one day a year, but the road was treacherous. Sometimes, Altair fails to make it across and on those days it’s said that Vega’s tears flood Japan in the form of rain.”

A subtle frown etches the corners of Merula’s lips downward. Her reply comes in the form of muted mumbles from the crevice of Robin’s neck. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Robin laughs, a sweet sweet sound. “Yes it does.”

“Aren’t these supposed to be… y’know, happy?”

“Not always.”

“...that sucks.”

Robin goes to respond, but the frantic alarm of her phone cuts her off. She pulls the offending device from her coat pocket.

12:00

Wednesday, December 25

“Merula, it’s–”

But Merula isn’t listening. Instead, she seems to have dozed off against her shoulder, her nose nuzzled into the crook of her neck. Her chest rises and falls rhythmically as she settles deeper into her slumber.

Robin smiles.

“Merry Christmas, Merula,” Emboldened by the hour and the fact that Merula will never know, she reaches over and plants a soft, chaste kiss to the crown of her head. “I love you.”

#secret santa!!#merry christmas morgan!#i really hope you like it!#i know modern!muggle!aus arent everyone’s thing #but i still think this idea was super cute!#i got inspired after reading your fic with these two about constellations in the hogwarts courtyard #so i thought you might like this!#this was fun and definitely something I’d do again #happy holidays everyone #🎅❣️

15 notes · View notes

hcfhhgg · 5 years

Text

Hi @pixiesandink , I hope better late than never...Here your Secret Santa gift. Merry Christmas and a happy New Year and all that. I hope you are having a good time with your snow :-)

By the time Iida and Midoriya returned with their umbrellas, Uraraka was sitting in a garbage container and refused to leave. “It’s my home now.” she puffed, sitting cross-legged, arms folded above her chest while slowly sinking into the mass of thrown away class assignments and shredded meeting minutes: “I live here.”

“It’s a garbage container.”, Iida argued, having faced to many pointless discussions to care much whether his reasons mattered to her.

“Its paper.” She explained: “Soft and comfy. And I don’t have to walk to school at all.”

“That’s inappropriate and probably illegal,” he continued, chopping the air, as he was wont to: “And dangerous on top.”

“It’s a single room flat in a good area,” she shook her head in overplayed disappointment: “People murder for this kind of place. And it comes fully furnished,” she gestured at the paper surrounding her.

“This is the school yard.”

The UA towers stood high to their right, looking foreboding against the grey afternoon sky, the tinted windows reflecting the fading light in deep blue, seeming eternal and calm against the wind beaten branches of near standing trees, shrill signing birds flitting between their branches, hiding from the oncoming storm. It smelled of rain, and the promise of an evening spent huddling in the common room, hoping the electricity would hold while fighting over blankets, their voices drowning out the sound of rain beating against the windows.

Uraraka shifted again, sinking even deeper into her new home, as she aimlessly pulled pieces of paper from the mess. With her head at about Iidas height, she huffed lazily, shaking her head: “What did you think of the essay questions today?”

The other one leaned forwards, setting his forearms against the side of the garbage container, carefully avoiding all dirt and eying his friends new home suspiciously: “I definitively have to study when we return. They are putting significantly more empathies on their humanities program now than they did when my brother went here.”

She nodded her agreement, through she knew nothing about the schools humanities program several years ago: “That last question really got me confused. Did we cover that in class.”

“It was on one of the hand-outs, actually.” Midoriya chimed in from below, having sat himself down on the dirty asphalt besides the containers, his painfully yellow umbrella opened above him, as if to create a small cave consisting only of it, him and the worn out sweater he had thrown over his Uniform: “I hardly understood it through, anyway.” He yawned.

It was the week of test preparation, with teachers drilling theoretical information into them, even putting off part of their physical regime in favour of endless repetition and practise tests.

“I didn’t read those.” Uraraka signed, leaving Iida torn between reprimanding her for not fully following the lessons or scolding himself for forgetting valuable class material.

“I doubt it matter through.” Midoriya went on: “Hardly anyone who is not amongst the top five solved that one. I heard Yaoyorozu say she struggled with it, even.”

“History isn’t her thing huh?” his friend asked past a struggling Iida, still undecided: “But she is so brilliant at Chemistry. Think they will keep a question even the best student can’t answer?”

This made Iida snap. Taking a deep breath and completing a few forceful chops against the unsuspecting air he made his decision known, launching into a lengthy monologue on work ethics, which, to the readers convenience, shall here be reduced to its essence: “Of course they should keep it. As students and future hero we have a duty to meet the highest expectations of not only this school, but society also. It would do you two good to remember…” he started, pushing himself of the garbage container to flathandendly point at Uraraka: “…that even the history of a pre quirk society can be relevant to your work one day.”

“Hm. You think so? But how?” his friend wondered, leaning forwards to look over the side of the container downwards: “He does have a point through.”

Midoriya shrugged, the motion hardly visible through his oversized yellow sweater: “We still have two more weeks to learn, so they might just…expect us to forget everything else.”

“Who needs a hero when you could have someone who understands a gold-standard.” Uraraka laughed, throwing her head back and glancing up at the sky, which was cloudy and unusually dark for a summer day.

“The gold-standard”, it sounded from below, the words torn away from the boy’s mouth, hardly audible against her disinterest. With one hand she took hold of some discharged papers, making them float before pushing them up into the wind. Iida huffed disapprovingly as they where ripped towards the east gate.

“How long can you keep that up?”

“Long enough.” She grinned, watching the paper disappear in the distance: “With something that light till the next shopping district maybe.” A smile broke across her face: “Have you ever drunk like an astronaut?”

Iida huffed, recognizing the abrupt change of topic as what it was, but Midoriya, who knew that the evening would be filled with relentless studying and quiet discomfort, laughed: “With a straw?”

“Yes,” she bobbled her head up and down, her knees sinking in deeper from the sudden movement: “Or like Pacman,” she looks almost proud saying it, snapping her mouth shut trying to imitate the video game character and both boys where struck by the sudden realisation that they would probably soon find out how the dirty brown spots appeared on the common room celling over the weekend.

“Yes”, the smaller boy perked up, his head bumping against the umbrella: “Like an obstacle run, weightless in the air,” he smiled up to them, waving off Iida, whose face softened at the look of excitement on his friends face: “You could train body awareness and agility. Stamina too. With all the - Is it more straining to float liquids?”

“Huh?” Uraraka tilted her head, trying to compare the effort to the lifting of a solid object and coming up empty: “It’s different I think. I can’t actually touch all of it.”

“Oh! So it is all about the surface tension?” her friend asked from below.

“I guess.” She sounded uncertain, twirling a strand of hair around her finger: “Its weird. I was not paying that much attention.” A slight blush crossed her face, remembering the last Saturday night when the common room had been to quiet, with only her and Kaminari sitting on the plush couches, trying to scare the night away with pointless chatter and bad ideas. To throw some drinks into the air had been his suggestion, the kind of drinks as well and she had agreed because she was fifteen and these here the kind of trills she should experience. Nothing more than a slight taste of danger laced with stupidity and laughter. The kind of things that made time pass quicker.

A single drop of rain landed on her face and stopped her in her thoughts, running down her nose and dropping on her lips. Laughing she licked it up, wondering about water pollution and the sense of inner tension floating liquids gave her: “Deku,” she said, reaching backwards for the lid of the garbage container: “ Iida, I think it’s starting.”

Iida looked upwards, at the grey clouds looking just a shade darker than before as he blinked away a raindrop in the corner of his eye. Ignoring the sound of the lid being closed he reached for his umbrella, feeling more drops falling on his thin hair and smiling at Midoriyas quiet mumble: “…he wont like that, he’ll…”

Alarmed his head shot up, starring at Uraraka who smiled at him softly beneath the half closed lid of the container, fitting comfortably and looking cosy lying amongst the thrash, shoulders angled slightly towards him, her legs almost entirely covered by the paper. He blinked as she burst out in laughter, her body convoluting as the scandalised look on his face deepened.

“What are you thinking? We are…” he started, frowning and jerking his head as more raindrops soaked through his hair, the sudden movement letting them drop into his face as he hit the containers side repeatedly.

“Wait, what is she doing?” Midoriya shouted from below, giggling along his friend at the taller boys attics.

“Aw, come on,” despite her apologetic smile, wide and open and not regretful at all, the girls voice was teasing as she tried to wards of the punishing lecture that was sure to follow: “I’m the one without an umbrella.”

“Something any of your friends,” Iida waved at the space behind him, indicating nothing but empty asphalt and rain: “… could have helped you with! Here,” he opened his umbrella, which was wide and dark, looking sturdy and expensive, with light brown studs at the end of its rips, just the kind of model his friends would have expected him to own and held it over the container, leaving his own back uncovered: “… we can share.”

Uraraka laughed again, pushing her head out from below the lid and under the umbrella: “You know that this is exactly the kind of umbrella I thought you had.”

It took her some wriggling and crawling to push herself from the paper, hands folded to activate her quirk a moment before she threw her arms around Iida and, with a forceful jump, let herself float almost vertically upwards, rain and dirt staining her clothing while the taller boy tried desperately to hold onto her and keep them both covered. They must have made for a ridicules picture, because when Midoriya, still seated on the ground in a small circle of dryness, peered at them from below his shelter, he began to giggle, starting with a small, swallowed sound, that soon turned into cut-off pleas to stop, please, of not for Iidas, then for his hearts sake.

It took a few minutes for the two to sort themselves out, like an overworked machine trying to pull a hot-air balloon down to earth, both moving unsuccessfully to avoid each others flailing limps, like two dancers attempting to push each other off balance, as if they where not sure if they should be fighting or help each other to float off into space to never be seen again.

“I am getting good at this.” Uraraka said, after her feet had again found the ground, her friend holding onto her shoulders as if trying to keep her grounded. Her face was slightly pale; looking sickly against her dropping wet hair she spent some time trying to push back. Still she was smiling, proud and exhausted as if she would do this again, in a day maybe, after she had gotten to spent some quality time with her bed: “Who is up for some hot chocolate?”

“I am certainly not ‘up’ anything.” The grip around her shoulders tightened, but she could hear something like happy displeasure in the boys’ voice: “But I would not mind something warm to drink. Are you coming Midoriya?” he asked, already turning towards the dorm, relived about the end of a chaos he had enjoyed all the more for knowing that it would end.

“No”, the boy chimed from the ball of yellow below: “I will not abandon this small heaven of dryness.”

“Huh?” came from above: “You too.”

“I think,” said Uraraka, a slight frown marring her face: “You broke him Deku. Congratulations. No hot chocolate for you.”, she sung, looking smug, sickly and happy at the continuation of their attics.

“But,” the teen whined: “All the dedication and patience that went into staying dry! If I get up now, I will be wet too. And I haven’t done the laundry.”

“You can wear…No.” The girl shook her head, remembering, with glee, giddily excitement and slight remorse the last time her friend had tried on any of her clothes and stretched her fourth best tight fitting shirt to a pyjama: “Your can wear Iidas clothes. Right?”

“Wha-? Yes, I am, of course, always happy to help a friend, even if it would not be necessary if said friend had done his chores.” Despite trying to sound accusatory, waving his hands through the air, the dark haired boy seemed to smile, even through he was shivering in the cold, as he tried to pull Uraraka closer to his body, using her as personal source of warmth.

“Oh really?” she muttered: “I bet…” With a slight tap to the shelve of his sweater Midoriya felt himself lifted off the ground, struggling and trying to maintain contact with the small, round patch of asphalt he had sat one, the ground darkening as the first drops of rain fell on it belatedly.

With a drawn out ‘NO’ the teen gave up his fight, stretching his hand comically towards the disappearing dry asphalt, as he was drabbed along on his right foot, trying and failing to keep at least his upper body dry as he wined along his friends cheerful chants of ‘one of us’, preparing to soon be dropped unexpectedly. He had seen Uraraka before, after all.

They made it halfway to the dorms before she dropped him, letting herself fall dramatically into his arms as soon as he had stood up and she brought her stomach under control, fainting sudden weakness and screaming as he tried to lift her over his head.

“Waaaarm.”, she groaned after he had successfully lowered her and hugged him. He hugged back until Iida threw himself over the two, slinging his arms around both their shoulders and throwing them of balance, seeming perfectly content as they all tumbled onto the ground, just a few meters from their destination.

“Now,” Uraraka chided: “Now I really need to shower.”

“You sat in a garbage container.” He replied as he rolled off them: “You should anyway.”

#pixiesandink #rainyweather #bnha #bnhagenexchange #midoriya izuku #iida tenya #uraraka ochako #writing #my fic

6 notes · View notes

lpdwillwrite4coffee · 6 years

Text

Breaking Free (I Feel Violent) pt.2

{Post-TPS Kastle fic written for @purelyfueledbycaffeine‘s birthday and Beta’d by @kteague. Don’t let the holiday timeline fool you, there’s plenty of angst to go around.}

{Part 1}

* Thanksgiving came and went, and soon Karen was noticing more and more Christmas lights decorating shop windows. Small plastic trees with tiny ornaments on her co-workers’ desks and in the break room, shiny garland hung around the office, even Ellison had multi-colored lights around his door, and he was Jewish.

“Everyone enjoys twinkle lights, Karen,” he’d told her when she saw him hanging them up. She’d just giggled and walked by to get another cup of coffee.

Things almost felt normal again.

Almost.

She still woke up in the middle of the night to the sounds of exploding doorframes, metal doors being wrenched from their hinges, the feeling of a solid arm and calloused hand gripping her head, her neck, tangling in her hair.

A sandpaper voice asking, “You okay?” through the ringing in her ears.

Karen was back to old habits and she couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Staying late at the office, going home and refusing to sleep until it was necessary to be able to function the next day. She was drinking too much coffee, eating too little, and when she wasn’t overloading her system with caffeine, she was having a glass of wine for dinner. The glass usually turned into a bottle on weekends, if she didn’t have anywhere to be the next day.

It was like looking in on herself from outside a window. She could see herself making the same choices—ones she’d once declared self-destructive after Matt died and tried to give up—but she didn’t have the willpower to stop herself.

At least she knew how to operate in these patterns. She knew this dance. She even knew how to cover up her missteps.

Her work never suffered. In fact, she thrived on the strenuous deadlines, the constant hum of adrenaline in her system. Thrived on it because she could hide in it.

You’re gonna break, you know, that voice warned. You’ll break, and no one will even know why.

Karen swallowed her tepid coffee, imagining that voice drowning in it, and got to work on her next story.

***

The company Christmas party was always on the 23rd, and Ellison demanded Karen take Christmas Eve, Christmas, and the following two days off. She’d been pumping out article after article and he thought giving her time off was a reward. But Karen’s heart started beating double-time, the edges of panic closing in. She didn’t want the time off, she didn’t want to be in her apartment, alone, for 4 full days. Foggy was up to his neck in briefings, and Karen’s fledgling friendship with Trish Walker wasn’t exactly to the level of ‘come distract me from myself over Christmas’ yet, which left Karen precisely in the Party of One category.

She tried, and failed, to convince Ellison she didn’t need the time.

“Nonsense,” he said, shaking his head in that way that could only be described as ‘dad-like’. “Take the vacation. You’ll be getting paid for it anyway, so it’s not like you really have an excuse not to.”

Karen opened her mouth to respond and then quickly snapped it closed. It felt like another trap, a way to get her to slip up and tell him what’s really on her mind.

“Alright,” she said, flashing a quick smile. “You’re the boss.”

“Don’t remind me,” he said, leaving her office to deliver edits to a couple other staff writers.

Karen was surprised she enjoyed the office party as much as she did. As she sipped her punch, spiked with something much stronger than she was used to, she absently thought if she was soaking up as much social interaction as she could, knowing she was about to be thrust into isolation come the morning.

Way to be a Debbie Downer, she thought, snorting at her own joke.

Maybe she should switch to water…

Karen and a few others were the last to leave, sharing a cab instead of marching through the snow and slush.

Warm from her buzz, but still in charge of most of her faculties, she made it up the 4 flights of stairs to her apartment with only a little swaying. Keys jingling in her hand, she took a moment to steady herself before attempting the lock, pressing her forehead to the door.

“Go, go on.”

“…Take care.”

A knot swelled in her throat, choking her.

She’d told him to go. She’d pulled herself away.

Maybe if she’d hung on a little longer, a little tighter… Maybe if…

Karen slid her key into the lock and twisted with such force she thought the key would snap, and was thankful it didn’t. Finding a locksmith two days before Christmas would be nearly impossible.

Flicking on the light, she dropped her purse on the entryway table, and shucked her coat, ready to fling it over the back of the couch. All she could think about were her warm flannel PJ bottoms and her fuzzy socks—a gift from Foggy for her birthday.

She left a trail of clothes and illumination as she moved through the apartment-- shedding her heels by the couch while she turned on the lights of her Christmas tree, her sweater over the back of a chair as she clicked on the lamp, her skirt and tights as she moved into her bedroom and turned on the reading light.

Before redressing, she dug a hair band out of her jewelry box and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She caught herself humming a Christmas song—Last Christmas, the Wham! version—while she searched for a sweatshirt to go with her sleep pants. Eventually, with only one dramatic tilt to the side as she pulled on her PJs, she was comfortable and warm and ready to crash on her couch with a bad movie playing on the tv.

She made it three steps out of her bedroom when she saw black boots, dark jeans, dark… everything.

Karen gasped, hand flying to her throat.

Lamp light and the reds and greens from her tree gave the figure dimension. And finally, she could make out the face under the dark hat and hood.

She’d know that nose anywhere.

“Frank?” She breathed.

Hands lifted to push back his hood, to remove his hat. A smile started to curve his mouth.

“Merry Christmas, Karen.”

She blinked. She blinked again.

He wasn’t disappearing.

“What… What are you doing here?” She could barely hear herself over the roar of her pulse in her ears.

He twisted his hat in his hands. “You didn’t close your door all the way…”

“How did you know my door was open?”

“…It’s not safe, Karen, you should know—”

“Frank, where have you been?” She snapped, cutting him off. She was suddenly feeling soberer. Shock will do that to a person.

Shifting on his feet, he glanced down, avoiding her stare. “I, uh…”

“I had business, Karen.” She expected to hear the same answer, in the same tone that made her cringe away from the prospect of prying.

Frank looked up at her, going still. “I’ve been around.”

Pinching her lips together tight, Karen inhaled steadily through her nose. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from a reunion with Frank, but this… this wasn’t quite it.

If she was honest, he was ruining her buzz.

“Around, huh?” She asked, fighting the urge not to sneer. Turning, she went into her kitchen for a glass of water. She felt him take a couple steps closer.

“I guess you-- you heard about what happened at the carousel,” he said, voice like gravel swirling around a glass of whiskey.

Karen nodded, chugging the tap water and refilling her cup. “Yup.”

“They, uh… They wiped my prints. My records. Gave me a clean slate… sorta.”

“Heard that too.” Karen said, turning to brace her hip against the counter so she could look at him.

Frank smirked. “You talked to Madani.” It wasn’t a question.

“Sure did.” She knew how she sounded. Knew her voice was cold and unforgiving, but any urge to be compassionate hadn’t quite caught up yet.

The sliver of a grin still on his lips fell, and his brows furrowed. “Karen, hey…”

“You wanna know how that meeting went?” She interrupted again, anger fueled by whatever clear liquor she’d spent most of the night drinking rushing to the surface. “We got to have a special sit down with Madani, got to see the inside of her place—nice apartment, by the way—and she tells us, first about the drugs being smuggled out of Kandahar and Billy Russo’s involvement and then she says you’re alive.”

There was a beat of silence as she gauged his reaction. He was frozen, watching her. Waiting.

Pushing away from the counter, she continued. “Not just alive, but free. You’re not being prosecuted. You’re not going to jail. You’ve been given a new identity and have been out in the world for days.” She set her cup down on the kitchen island, next to the white roses that were wilting from lack of sunlight. “And then she had the nerve to use our… relationship as a veiled threat to stay in our lane and not pursue the Cerberus story or anything about Rawlins. To keep quiet.”

An almost imperceptible wince made the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

Karen locked her gaze on him, refusing to let up. “And you know what my first thought was? How good of friends could we possibly be if I didn’t even know he wasn’t in prison?”

Frank sniffed. “Ghosted on you before,” he said, voice impossibly deeper. “Didn’t seem to bother you much then.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped. “That was before, that was—”

“What? What was it, Karen?”

“That was different!”

“Different, yeah. You tellin’ me I’m dead to you now, that’s what made it different.”

“No, it was—”

“You just like gettin’ to call the shots,” Frank cut in, taking a step forward. “People can fuck off, but only on your terms, is that right?”

Karen’s face heated up, anger spiking her temperature. “That’s not what I’m saying!”

“No? No, then what are you saying?”

She stopped, taking a deep breath. “We were… Things changed, Frank. And I just thought…” She went to drag her fingers through her hair, only to remember she’d put it up. “I thought maybe if someone was worth a phone call, maybe it would’ve been me. But I guess… I guess I was wrong.”

Frank’s gaze softened, and she caught the movement of his lips as he mumbled incoherently under his breath before saying louder, “I wanted to. Thought about it. But…”

Karen braced herself for whatever explanation he was about to give her that would cancel her out of his life. Again.

“I… I wanted to get myself a little more right first.”

Confusion doused her anger and drew her brows together.

Frank looked down at his hat still in his hands. “Been goin’ to Curt’s group… It’s, uh… It helps. I think.” He shrugged one shoulder, glancing up. “Maybe what helps is that I want it to help… so…”

Karen’s lips parted. “I… I’m not sure I understand.”

“I wanted to tell you,” he said, with as soft of a voice as he could manage. “Thought about showing up with pizza and beer or some shit, like a surprise, but…” His head tilted, in that very Frank way of dismissing everything, even himself. “I, uh, I didn’t think… And then you started back at work—”

“How did you—”

“I’m a loyal reader of The New York Bulletin, Miss Page,” he said, tone a little lighter, a little jovial. “I saw you didn’t have any new articles for about a week, and then your name was on a front-page story, so I figured…”

Karen’s anger went from a rolling boil to a low simmer. “Still could’ve called.”

“Oh yeah?” He flashed a lopsided grin. “Wouldn’t’ve hung up on me, huh?”

Despite herself, Karen smiled. “Well, you did save my life. Twice.”

The tension from their argument evaporated, floating out of the room through the air ducts.

“You want something to drink?” She asked, feeling the need to do something with her hands.

“If you’re offerin’.”

“Beer?”

He grunted his agreement and she turned towards her fridge. Frank took to slowly wandering her living room, taking note of her decorations.

“Must’ve been a bitch gettin’ a tree all the way up here,” he said, jerking his chin at her Douglas Fir.

“Foggy helped,” she said, smiling as she brought him his beer.

Taking a swig from the bottle, Frank quirked an eyebrow. “Hm.”

“What?”

He shook his head and Karen could practically read what he wasn’t saying on his face.

She chuckled. “Foggy’s stronger than he looks.”

“For a suit, maybe.”

“He offered to help.”

“At least he’s got manners.”

Karen folded her arms over her stomach, still unsure of what to do with her hands. “You… wanna sit?”

She got to the sofa first, folding herself into the far corner as he took the opposite end, legs open in a wide V, back slouched just a little. She wasn’t used to seeing him in such a relaxed posture. It was… nice.

“The suit help you decorate too?” He asked, sipping his beer.

Karen shook her head, propping her elbow up on the back of the couch. “Nope, that was all me. So keep your criticisms to yourself.”

Frank grinned. “Nah, none of that. It looks great.”

They sat there for God knows how long, with Frank staring at the Christmas tree, and Karen staring at him.

He shifted a little on the cushion, resting the bottle on his knee. “Maria, she… She loved decorating for the holidays. She went all out too. Day after Thanksgiving it was like waking up in the North Pole.”

Karen giggled, and Frank turned his head to look at her.

“You… you got a favorite?” He asked, gesturing to the ornaments shimmering in the multicolored lights.

“Hmm…” Karen thought, looking up at her tree. “Maybe the fuzzy reindeer? Up there, near the top.” She pointed out the worn, handstitched reindeer.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, resting her head on her fist. “My grandma made it for me. She made ornaments for all the grandkids. The reindeer is mine, my brother got a snowman, my cousin got… um, I think she got a Christmas mouse—"

“A what?” Frank asked, bottle halfway to his lips.

“You know, a little Christmas mouse,” she said, trying to pantomime. “It’s a little mouse with a Santa hat.”

He arched a brow, looking at her like she was nuts. “A mouse with a Santa hat? Is that… that a Vermont thing, or…?”

Karen laughed. “It’s a thing, I promise.”

“Alright, guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“Guess you will,” she retorted, feeling warm again, but this time it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Did you have a favorite ornament growing up?”

Frank sipped his beer and thought. “Not an ornament… but my mom, she had this set of nutcrackers. They all were characters from the play, you know? I loved the Toy Soldier one the best.”

Karen laughed softly and Frank chuckled, glancing at her.

“Yeah, I know, some kinda cliché bullshit, right? The Marine loving the solider one the best.” He smiled into his beer. “I always got in trouble for sneaking it up to my room to play with.”

“I used to steal my mother’s best outfits to play dress up in,” Karen admitted, smile still on her lips. “The expensive cocktail dresses she’d have to wear to company functions, her designer shoes, her pearls…”

“Uh oh… Y’didn’t lose those, did you?”

Karen shook her head. “No, no, but I’d hide them under my bed and my mom would get so mad.” She laughed at the memory. “She’d ban me from her closet but the second she was out of the house…”

“Went right back, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah.” She nodded, grinning at him.

“Seems like you’ve always been a tenacious one, huh?”

Karen lifted her chin with pride. “Since day one.”

“Atta girl.”

They stayed like that, chatting easily long into the night. Karen even got to tease him about how he was letting his hair grow long again, calling him ‘hipster’ a couple of times just to see him smile. Frank held onto his long-empty beer bottle, refusing to get off the couch for another, or to make her get him one. Soon Karen was drifting off mid-sentence (Frank’s or hers) and he started to excuse himself, telling her he shouldn’t have kept her up so late.

“Stay?” She asked without thinking. Her eyelids were half-down, but she would have sworn she saw genuine shock flash across his face. Straightening up a little, she decided to ask again. “Will you stay?”

He regarded her a moment, dark eyes catching the glow from the Christmas tree. “Not still mad at me, are ya?” He asked, tilting his head. “Don’t wanna wake up with my hand in a bowl of warm water or somethin’…”

Karen’s laugh exploded from her and she covered her mouth. “I’d never!” She said, still laughing. “Scouts honor.”

“You were a scout?”

“Um… no…?”

Chuckling, Frank shook his head. “Then that don’t mean much, does it?”

“I promise not to fuck with you in your sleep,” she said, as earnestly as she could. “So… will you?”

He was quiet, staring down at the empty bottle still in his hands. “Okay,” he said, nodding once.

“Okay.”

***

Karen awoke with a start—the sound of metal banging being too similar to the sounds from her nightmares. Blinking rapidly, she glanced around her room, remembering where she was.

She rolled onto her side, stretching as she stared out into the living room. Details from the night before started filtering back, just as another metal bang sound made her jump.

Quickly rolling out of bed, she hurried into the kitchen, bare feet instantly freezing on the cold linoleum.

“Frank?” She called, voice rough from sleep.

Standing up from where he was crouched, Frank turned to face her, holding a frying pan. “Hey, mornin’,” he said. “Didn’t mean to wake you. I was gonna get breakfast going for you and then I knocked over the leaning tower of Pisa you got in that cabinet.” He pointed with the end of the pan.

Karen flashed a tired smile. “Oh, yeah… Been meaning to reorganize.” She finger-combed her hair back from her face. “Coffee?”

“Already made.”

She cast him another look, noticing he’d rid himself of his jacket and hoodie, and was only in a black henly and his jeans and boots. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she got a mug from her cupboard and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“You want some?”

Frank’s answer was to lift his own mug—one she hadn’t noticed—and quietly grunt. It made Karen grin.

“So what’s on the menu this morning?” She asked, leaning against the counter to watch him dice a bell pepper.

“You had a bunch of vegetables that needed to be eaten,” he said, gesturing to the selection next to the cutting board. “What, you go to the store just to buy stuff to let it rot?”

Karen pulled her mug away from her lips. “I’m busy, Frank, I don’t always have time to cook.”

“Hm. Seems to reason you shouldn’t buy food you don’t have time to cook then.”

“Seriously?”

He sniffed. “Just a waste, is all.”

“Someone woke up on the lecture-y side of the bed this morning.”

“Sofa. And… sorry.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I think I’ve been around David too long.”

She sipped her coffee and smirked. “You didn’t happen to pick up any computer smarts did you? ‘Cause my laptop has been a little glitchy.”

Frank shook his head and she caught the corner of a smile. “Nope. You’re on your own.”

“Damn.”

“How’s an omelet with spicy sausage sound?”

Karen nodded, stomach already growling. “Sounds perfect.”

Frank gestured towards the lone barstool by her kitchen island. “Have a seat, it’ll be done shortly.”

“I didn’t know you could cook,” she said, watching him as she sat down.

“I’m a man of many talents, Miss Page,” he told her, graveled voice surprisingly sweeter. “I can also sew.”

“Fabric or flesh?”

“Both.”

Karen chuckled into her coffee.

“You sleep alright?” He asked, scraping the vegetables into the frying pan.

Flattening her lips into a line, Karen hummed a ‘yes’. It was the best she could do to deflect. She wasn’t sure she was ready to tell anyone—let alone Frank—about her nightmares.

“You?” She asked quickly.

“I’ve been sleepin’ on a cot about as thin as a sheet of paper for the last few months. Your couch was a cloud compared to that.”

“I’ll have to leave a review on IKEA’s website then. ‘Better than a basement cot’.”

Frank chuckled, turning the heat up on the pan and adding salt. An amenable silence enveloped the room, with Karen sipping her coffee while Frank cooked. Occasionally they’d catch each other’s eye and duck their heads, almost blushing.

It felt strange having Frank in her space, being so surprisingly domestic with a KBAR still strapped to his belt. But it was a strangeness Karen found herself wanting to get used to. Wanting more of.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” she announced, breaking the silence. “Got any plans?”

She realized how ridiculous that question must have been, as if she expected previously-assumed-dead-Frank-Castle to turn around and tell her he was going to a Christmas party.

“Nope,” Frank said, graciously sparing her a sarcastic glance. “You?”

“Ellison gave me 4 days off from the paper,” she said, distracting herself with one of the shopping mailers she’d gotten with her stack of junk mail. “I was thinking of attempting a real Christmas dinner for myself. I make a mean Thai curry.”

“Thai food?” Frank looked over his shoulder at her, halting his sautéing. “How the hell is Thai food Christmas-y?”

“It can be,” she retorted, hands cupping her warm mug. “If it’s food you eat on Christmas, then it’s Christmas food.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Oh no?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Ya gotta have the real deal stuff. The… the ham, sweet potatoes, green bean casserole, that nasty-ass cranberry jelly from a can—”

“I actually like that stuff.”

“’Course you do,” he said, looking over his shoulder again and smirking. It made Karen’s stomach tremble.

Or maybe that was the 2 cups of coffee on an empty stomach.

“Well I can’t make all that just for me,” she told him primly. “It would be a waste.” She arched an eyebrow at him when he turned to look at her again. Two can play that game.

She wondered if he’d catch her double meaning. She couldn’t make all that food for just her… but if he stayed…

“What about the suit?” Frank asked, cracking a couple eggs into a bowl to scramble.

“Foggy’s working and then spending Christmas day with his girlfriend—”

“Suit’s gotta girl, huh? Good for him.”

“Marci. She’s… Well, Foggy likes her, so…”

Frank chuckled, a sound Karen still wasn’t used to hearing. “Not a fan, I take it.”

“As long as Foggy doesn’t ask me to be her new BFF, we’ll be fine.” Karen hopped up for her third cup of coffee, and found Frank there, a little too close too quickly.

His large hand covered the top of her mug. “Need somethin’ more than just that,” he said, graveled voice even lower. “Here.” He handed her a water glass and nodded to the sink.

Karen flattened her lips in a line. “Didn’t realize I needed a babysitter.”

“Gonna make yourself sick, all the coffee on an empty stomach.”

“Well maybe if someone hurried up with the food…”

Frank pegged her with an unyielding stare. “Indulge me. One glass of water.”

Karen’s shoulders stiffened but she took the water glass. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

She filled it in tense silence and chugged it down. Walking back over to where he stood, she made it a point to turn the glass upside down on the counter next to him before grabbing the handle of the coffee pot and pouring herself more.

Frank shook his head. “More stubborn than a mule,” he muttered, barely audible but Karen still heard it.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

He grunted, flipping the omelet in the pan.

Karen returned to her seat, aimlessly looking over the holiday sale ads as she drank her coffee defiantly.

A plate of food appeared under her chin and she lifted her head.

“Bon Appetite,” Frank said, holding out a fork for her.

“Thanks—Wait, where’s yours?”

“Not hungry,” he said, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

She thought he’d sit with her, but he walked around the kitchen island and into the living room, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch. Karen watched, her stomach dropping. She’d run him off already, she’d irritated him into leaving, she’d—

“Where… where are you going?” Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears.

“Told you, y’can’t have Thai food for Christmas dinner. Just ain’t right,” Frank called, yanking his jacket on. “Bet if I hurry I can find a decent spread for us, even if it’s all picked over.”

Karen blinked. “You… So you’re…” She swallowed thickly.

“Be back in a little while, yeah?” He held her gaze for a moment before offering a smile. Jerking his chin at the plate, he added, “Better eat before it’s cold.”

Relief flooded her system as she nodded weakly. “Okay.”

“Don’t go anywhere,” he said as he headed for the door. “Hate to have to pick your lock with an arm full of groceries.”

Karen laughed, and he glanced over his shoulder just before closing the door behind him.

***

She heard him come back in as she was getting dressed after her shower. Heavy boots and the rustling of bags, a grunt as he nudged the door closed. She scurried to close her bedroom door, a towel being the only thing covering her. It probably wouldn’t have been in either of their best interests if she accidentally flashed him before noon.

“Be right out,” she called, seeing his silhouette move into the kitchen.

“Take your time.”

Quickly digging out a pair of leggings and an oversized cream-colored sweater, she scrambled to find a pair of underwear that wasn’t terribly lacy… Laundry day was fast approaching if all she could find were her ‘date night’ panties.

She dug through her drawer, suddenly and intensely aware of the man moving around her apartment.

Jesus Karen, get it together, she thought, grabbing her last plain black pair and a bra and pulling them on.

“You got a package,” Frank called, making her jump.

Frowning, Karen looked at the door as she finished dressing. “Huh?”

“Left by your mailbox, so I brought it up.” She listened to him pace across the living room. “Not very big…”

She opened her door, working a comb through her hair. “Does it say who it’s from?”

Frank shook his head, holding the box out for her. His eyes drifted down to where she brushed her damp hair, but his expression was neutral.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it and going to the couch to sit. “So, I see you were able to get more than just a couple cans of beef and bean soup, huh?”

“Yeah, didn’t make out too shabby.” Frank wandered back to the kitchen to continue unloading. “Even found a decent sized ham to bake.”

“Ooh, with brown sugar?”

He grunted a ‘yes’ and she smiled softly, folding her legs under her. Looking down at the box in her lap, she stopped, fingers trailing over the familiar lettering.

“Need scissors?”

She didn’t answer, hardly heard him if she was honest. She was too busy deciding if she even wanted to open it.

“Karen?”

“Hm?”

Frank was a little closer, holding a can of green beans, brow furrowing as he watched her. “What is it?”

“Oh… uh,” she faltered, glancing down at the box. “It’s… nothing.” She set the box aside on her coffee table. “So are you one of those ‘no one is allowed in the kitchen to help’ kinda cooks or is there room for two in there?”

“Why didn’t you open your package?” He asked, completely blowing passed her attempt to change the topic.

Karen bit her lip, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Frank’s jaw ticked as he stared at her. He set the can on the counter and strode into the living room, sitting on the arm of her reading chair. He was staring her down, waiting for her to crack under the weight of his dark gaze.

“Really?” She scoffed. “It’s nothing, Frank, just drop it.”

She stood up, about to walk into the kitchen, when Frank grabbed her wrist. It was the first time he’d touched her since… Since the elevator.

Karen’s head whipped around, glare hot. “Frank.”

His only response was to lock eyes with her, thumb over her pulse point.

They stayed like that for what felt like ages until Karen yielded.

“It’s from my dad. And I don’t want to open it right now, nor do I want to talk about it, okay?” She looked to where Frank’s hand was still wrapped around her wrist. “Is that answer satisfactory enough for you?”

Frank’s jaw ticked again but his gaze was softer. After a beat, he released her, and her skin was troublingly cold from the lack of touch. Karen didn’t waste any time walking away from him, but Frank didn’t move from his perch on the chair.

She got herself a glass of water just to busy herself, and stood at the sink to drink it.

“You… you can, y’know…” Frank said, voice deep and raspy. “Talk about it, I mean. If… if you want.”

Karen swallowed the last of her water and smacked her lips. “Nope.”

Sighing, Frank nodded once before standing up. “Alright.” It was barely loud enough to hear over the clink of her glass in the sink.

He went around the kitchen island, picking the can of green beans up. “Ya got any objections to slivered almonds?”

Karen turned, frowning at him. “Huh?”

“On the green beans,” he said, rolling the can in his palm. “Only way I really know how to make ‘em.”

The knot that was tightening in her chest loosened enough for Karen to breathe. The topic of her father was dropped… for now.

“No, not at all.” She shook her head. “You want some help?”

“Nah, I got it,” he said, pulling out all her pots and pans from her cabinets. “How about you play bartender though.”

Karen arched a brow, smirk playing at her lips. “Do what now?”

“Can’t have Christmas Eve dinner without a little holiday cheer,” he said, tone lighter. “Check that bag over there.” He nodded to the paper bag he hadn’t unpacked.

Karen grinned as she pulled out two bottles of wine—one red, one white—and a fifth of top shelf whiskey.

Lining them up on the counter, she said, “Merry Christmas indeed.”

***

Frank Castle was a fucking lightweight.

One glass of wine had him pink at the tips of his ears and apples of his cheeks. Two and he was smiling a lot easier, laughing a fraction louder, fine motor function not nearly as finessed.

Karen covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle as she watched him cook.

“That’s some strong shit,” he muttered, looking into his glass after another sip.

“You sure you don’t wanna eat something?”

“We’re gonna eat soon.”

“You gonna make it to ‘soon’?”

“I can hold my liquor, Karen.”

Smirking, she sipped her wine. “If you say so…”

She decided not to comment when she saw him nibble on the carrots he was cooking on the stove.

It was only three o’clock in the afternoon and they were both buzzed. Now this was a Christmas tradition Karen could get behind.

“We need some different music,” she said, jumping up from her bar stool to go pick a new Spotify station. She changed it from non-descript Christmas classics to a Rock Christmas station, in need of something with more pep.

“Y’really listen to this?” Frank asked, scrunching his nose as he tasted the sauce for the ham.

“Sure,” she said, turning. “And you don’t?”

“Can’t say I’ve listened to much of anything the last few months.”

The comment made her sad for reasons she wasn’t sober enough to really put together.

They chatted a little as he checked on the multiple dishes he had in the oven and as Frank drained his wine glass. She’d never thought she’d ever see Frank get tipsy… But then again, she never thought she’d be friends with the Punisher, of all people. Or having him cook her Christmas dinner. It was a holiday full of surprises.

The opening bars of Bruce Springsteen’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” filtered through her computer speakers and Karen smiled. It was one of her favorites. She glanced up to see Frank bobbing his head a little as he stirred the carrots.

“Fan of the Boss, huh?” She asked, grinning.

“Who isn’t?”

She saw the shift immediately. Frank’s shoulders going rigid, his back straightening, hand gripping the wooden spoon like a vice.

Incoherent mumbling got a little louder. “Can… can you turn that off?”

“What?”

“Turn it—turn it off? Or change… Just change the station?”

Karen frowned. “I thought—”

“Ple-please, Karen?” He didn’t turn around. He didn’t need to for her to know the tormented look in his eyes.

As quick as her inebriated fingers would allow, she turned the volume down and changed it back to some jazzy Christmas station. She stood there, leaning on the table, running her fingers through her hair as she exhaled slowly. Her heart was racing, like she’d just kicked a grenade away from them.

Maybe she had…

She waited until she could breathe normally before going back to her seat at the island, clutching her wine glass by the stem.

“My… my wife…” Frank faltered, clearing his throat. “Maria, she… For my birthday, she got us Springsteen tickets.”

Karen didn’t dare move an inch or make a sound.

“’Sposed to go the week after I got back,” he murmured, keeping his back to Karen. “We, uh… That didn’t…” He shook his head.

He didn’t need to finish. Karen knew.

She knew too well.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” she whispered.

He nodded jerkily, stirring the pot.

They listened to the new station—a little too much Michael Buble for Karen’s taste—in relative quiet.

Finally, Frank turned to face her. “I have a confession to make.”

Karen’s eyes widened.

“I can’t bake worth a damn,” Frank said. “So I bought the pie.”

Karen had to bite the inside of her cheek so she wouldn’t laugh. “I think I can forgive that.”

“Alright then.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and she felt a swell of relief in her chest.

Some memories of Maria Frank welcomed, and some tore him asunder, bringing his very being to a screeching halt. Karen understood that implicitly. And she was more than willing to bear witness to both-- to listen or to change the station.

It was the least she could do, Karen felt.

***

“You didn’t!”

“All over the house,” Karen laughed, fork bumping her plate. “I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack.”

“Who was watching you?” Frank leaned on his forearm, eyes sparkling. “Was anyone watching you?”

“The babysitter was trying to get my brother to stop coloring on the walls.”

“You were terrors, both of you,” Frank told her, shaking his head and grinning.

“I thought it would be funny!”

“Cutting a hole in the flour bag and tying it to the dog is not funny, trust me.”

“It was a little funny,” Karen giggled, sipping her wine. “Besides I was 5!”

Frank took a bite of ham and shook his head again. “Poor Sparky…”

“I think he was more upset he had to have 2 baths just to get all the flour out of his fur.” Karen speared a carrot and gestured to Frank with it. “Alright, your turn. Worst childhood antic.”

“Oh man…” He chuckled, setting his utensils down and rubbing his right hand over his left fist. “Uh… Let’s see…” Tilting his head, he considered her a moment before nodding. “Alright. The time I filled the washer with bubble bath instead of laundry detergent.”

Karen nearly choked on her food. “Oh god!”

“I was trying to help,” he said, grin splitting his face apart. “I didn’t know they were different. Soap is soap, right?”

“No, no they’re not,” Karen shook her head and giggled.

“Yeah, well, I figured that out pretty damn quick.” He hid his face a little with his hands. “The laundry room is filling with bubbles and I’m, shit, I’m freakin’ out, right? I’m 8, standing there in wet socks and slippery from all the soap, and I’m about 3 seconds from losin’ my shit, and that’s when my mom comes in the house.”

“Uh oh…”

Frank shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “Ma… She walks in, hears the machine going berserk, calls for me, and when she comes around the corner and sees the gigantic mess I’ve made she…” He chuckles, hands falling to the tops of his thighs. “She just bursts out laughing.”

“What?”

“She’s doubled over, she’s cracking up so hard. And I’m standing there—probably with bubbles comin’ outta my ears—and I just…” He ducks his head, still grinning but obviously a little embarrassed. “I just start wailing.”

Karen covered her mouth, her ‘aww’ still very much audible.

“I… I guess I was just so overwhelmed, I just had a meltdown. And Ma, she just laughed even harder.”

“You poor thing.”

“She said I looked like the angriest bubble monster,” Frank commented, picking up his wine. “Looking back… I don’t—I can’t even remember half of it, or how we got it all cleaned up. But I swear, to this day, I remember the feeling of wet socks and soap bubbles up to my little bare arms.”

“Your mom wasn’t angry?”

Frank shook his head, swallowing the last of the wine in his glass. “Nah, she was… She took things in stride, ya know? A little bubble bath in the machine wasn’t gonna upend her.”

“And you were trying to help…” Karen added, smiling over her glass.

Mumbling in agreement, Frank tucked his chin. “I didn’t touch that washer again until high school.”

Karen laughed, enjoying how easy it was to laugh now. Sure, the wine helped, but it was more than that. It felt important to laugh with Frank. To embrace the goodness, the levity, because they both knew that things could change in an instant. And that they most likely would.

“You liked the yams?” Frank asked, nodding to Karen’s plate.

She looked down to the clearly vacant section. “They were amazing.”

“There’s more,” he murmured.

“We have to have left overs for tomorrow,” she countered.

“Ah, right,” Frank said, lifting his head. “You save room for pie?”

“There’s always room for pie.”

“Atta girl.”

Their knees bumped as he got up from the table to fetch the store-bought pumpkin pie, and at the same time the legs of his chair scraped sharply on the linoleum. She tried to hide it, but Karen flinched. Hard.

Frank hesitated at her shoulder, holding both of their empty plates, but Karen couldn’t bring herself to look up at him. She tilted her face away, pretending to stare at the Christmas tree, until he huffed and walked into the kitchen.

The plates clattered in the sink and she jumped again, but that time she was pretty sure he didn’t see.

Her skin crawled, sensing the impending questions about to pour from Frank’s mouth, and she dodged with all the agility of a scared rabbit.

“You want coffee with your pie?” She asked, already standing and making her way to the coffee maker.

Frank turned from where he was cutting a thick slice and watched her a moment before humming in agreement. As he finished serving, she made them a pot and leaned against the counter, listening to the gurgling noises.

“We should watch a movie or something,” she told him as he handed her a dessert plate. “You got a favorite?”

Frank shook his head, fork already diving into the hunk of orange. “Pick whatever you want,” he mumbled around the food in his mouth.

Biting her lip, Karen wandered into her living room, grabbing the remote from the coffee table and turning the tv on. She channel-surfed for a minute before finding A Christmas Story on a cable channel, already about 10 minutes in.

“This okay?” She asked without looking at him.

Frank grunted what sounded close to a ‘yes’, and plopped himself down on the end of the sofa. Going back for coffee for the two of them, Karen came back and handed out a mug to Frank.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, taking it from her.

Karen laughed softly at the title. “No need to be formal, Frank,” she said, curling up on her end of the couch. “You’ve seen me in my PJs now. We’re beyond ‘ma’am’.”

“Dunno about that,” he said, smirking as he took another bite. “Decaf?”

She shook her head, watching the television. “Regular.”

Frank’s silence felt heavy, but she didn’t react, didn’t comment. She stared so hard at Ralphie’s face on her screen she was certain she’d memorize every freckle the kid had. She would not budge.

Karen finished her pie and took their plates to the kitchen and refilled her coffee. She offered to do the same for Frank, but he declined.

“You plannin’ on stayin’ up to see Santa?” He asked after her second cup.

She pulled her mug away from her lips. “Huh?”

“Gonna be up all night drinkin’ that,” he commented, nodding to her coffee.

“Says the guy who lived on the stuff.”

His response was a quiet hum followed by turning to stare at the tv once more, dropping the topic. They watched the movie, chuckling lightly and steadily relaxing back into the way they’d been during dinner.

When Karen shivered slightly, Frank pulled the throw off the back of the sofa and unfolded it, tossing it over her knees without a word. She whispered a thank-you, tugging it higher around her waist and leaning back against the cushions.

A Christmas Story ended, and Karen found them another to watch—Frank vetoed Miracle on 34th Street so she put it on Elf.

“Never seen this one,” Frank commented, threading his fingers together behind his head, spreading his elbows wide.

“What? You’ve never seen Elf?”

“I was a little busy, Karen,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t have time to see every bad movie—”

“Okay well that’s your first mistake there,” she cut in. “Elf is not bad. It’s a classic.”

“That right?”

“Mm-hm,” she nodded, propping her head up on a pillow. “Just watch, you’ll see.”

Despite chugging nearly a full pot of coffee, Karen’s eyelids drooped and she caught herself drifting off to sleep during several scenes. She blinked, glancing over at Frank, but he didn’t seem to notice. Either that or he was purposefully keeping his comments to himself.

Just before Buddy saved Santa’s sleigh, Karen fell asleep with her head at an awkward angle and the throw blanket bunched around her.

In those few moments though, the noise came back—screeching, exploding metal. People yelling. The taste of blood in her mouth.

Different memories, different events, all patchworking together.

She jerked awake, bolting up from the pillow and ramming her foot into the coffee table.

“Shit,” she cursed, bending to rub the soreness.

Frank was next to her again, too close, too suddenly. His hand was on the middle of her back, the heat and weight of it grounding her.

“Hey, hey, you alright?” His voice was soft, a little smoother like cigar smoke.

She nodded, wincing. “Fine. Just… clumsy.”

“You want some ice?”

“No, no, I’m okay,” she told him. “Promise.”

She caught his slight nod from the corner of her eye and offered him a smile. “See? All better,” she said, leaning back.

He grunted, but didn’t say much else, and they continued to watch the end of the movie. The next one up was A Charlie Brown Christmas, and even Frank nodded off during that one a couple of times. He blamed the music—too mellow.

Karen glanced over at the clock and sighed. 2am.

“Guess Santa skipped us this year,” she joked.

“I’m shocked,” Frank murmured, voice rough from exhaustion. “I’ve been a very good boy.”

Karen laughed, and he tilted his head to look at her, grinning slightly.

Reluctantly, she withdrew from the blanket and stood up. “I guess I’ll let you get some sleep,” she told him, dropping the throw back on the cushions.

“Karen…”

“G’night Frank,” she said, avoiding the topic once again.

His voice was quiet as he said, “Merry Christmas, Karen,” just before she closed her bedroom door.

***

Karen rolled onto her side, staring at the sliver of dawn outside her bedroom window.

She slept—she was sure she had—but given how her whole body ached, how unbelievably exhausted she still felt, she didn’t think it was very good sleep.

The nightmares still plagued her. They were a constant now, just something to accept. Taxes and death and all that.

She watched as the faint blue light turned pink, then orange, then yellow.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered to herself, hugging a pillow to her chest.

Through her door she heard the shower turn on and the clinking from the rod as the curtain moved. She thought about going out, asking Frank if he needed anything, getting him a couple towels and a wash cloth, but she realized he’d probably found all of that already if he was turning on the water.

She opted for 5 more minutes in bed followed by getting up to make coffee strong enough to strip paint. She didn’t think Frank would complain.

Karen was on her second cup when Frank came out of the bathroom, redressed and toweling his hair dry.

“Mornin’,” he said as soon as he saw her. “Hope you don’t mind, I—”

“No, no, not at all,” she told him. “I should have offered. You’re welcome to anything here.”

The small smile threatening to curve his lips made Karen blush and duck her head.

“Do you… need any extra clothes or anything?” She asked. “Not that I have a lot of men’s clothing lying around… And I don’t think yoga pants are really your style.”

Frank’s chuckle was deep, a little rough still from sleep. “I had a change of clothes in my pack.”

“Sure, right.” She nodded, lifting her mug. “I, uh, I made coffee.”

He glanced passed her to the coffee maker. “Smells strong.”

“It is.” She smiled but even to her it felt sharp.

Folding the towel in his hands, Frank wandered over to pour a cup. Something was different between them… Her stomach had taken to trembling when he looked at her. He was smiling more frequently. Her hands shook slightly when he was close. His gaze was warmer, softer. She didn’t quite feel comfortable in her own body, like she was a teenager again.

Inhaling deeply, she gulped her coffee and forced herself to remain still and calm, and to get a grip.

“Breakfast?”

His voice brought her head around. “Hm—uh, yeah.” She nodded so fast her neck popped. “Whatever you want.”

“Want me to do something with these left overs?”

“Those are for later,” she told him, reaching to playfully swat him away from the Tupperware containers. Frank chuckled and tilted his head.

“Alright, alright, eggs it is,” he said, pulling the carton from the shelf.

They fell into their familiar routine—Frank acting as chef while Karen sat on one of her stools, flipping through the paper and drinking coffee.

“You sure are giving my stove a work out,” Karen commented, reading the last bit of an article. “It hasn’t been used this much since I moved in.”

“That’s just depressing.”

Karen snorted. “You eat MREs and cold cuts, you can’t judge me.”

“I had an excuse,” Frank said, glancing over his shoulder. “But you?”

Looking up, she pegged him with a stare and rolled her eyes. That got him to laugh, which was worth the antagonizing.

“Merry Christmas, by the way,” he told her as he flipped the eggs in the pan.

She smiled. “Merry Christmas.”

“Did… d’ya sleep alright?” He asked, poking the food with the spatula.

Karen took a sip of coffee and hummed. “Fine. You?”

“Oh yeah, dreamt of sugar plums and all that shit.”

Her laugh caught her by surprise. Covering her mouth, she muffled herself.

Frank turned, carrying a plate of fried eggs and toast. “Don’t on my account.”

“Huh?”

“Been in a basement with a neurotic spook for months,” he started. “Hearing someone’s… Hearing you laugh is… it’s nice.” He faltered as he handed her the food. “Feels nice. Normal.”

The confession slammed between her ribs, nestling in tight.

“Oh,” was all she could say before he turned away to get his own food.

They were quiet for a long while, eating and drinking their coffee, occasionally turning to look at the Christmas tree or skim sections of the paper.

“I forgot this part,” Frank murmured from behind his mug. “Christmas morning…”

Karen’s chest ached as images of what Frank’s old life must have been like, how Christmas must have been for him, with Lisa and Frank Jr, flooded her mind.

“I… I didn’t get a lot of them… With the kids. Y’know?” He sniffed, nose scrunching before he took another sip of coffee. “Deployments. Training. Lisa’s first Christmas… I was in a tent in the desert. Got pictures though. Lots of pictures. When… when Frankie was, God, 4? 5? We, uh… We did it up right. Full blown Hallmark Christmas. Big tree, family came over. We… There was tons of food, and…” He chuckled to himself. “So much fuckin’ wrapping paper you couldn’t see the carpet underneath.”

Karen had gotten accustomed to his reminiscences tumbling out, a little broken, a little messy, stalled in parts, faded and unsure in others, but still very Frank. Each word curled up in her lap, held there to be cherished by someone else who understood.

“Did… did you have a favorite Christmas tradition?” She asked softly, not wanting to push. His memory was like fractured glass—if you pressed the wrong spot, it all came crashing down.

Frank glanced into his mug. “I was hopin’ you’d indulge me a little,” he said quietly. “Tell me somethin’ about yours? You have a favorite?”

“As a kid?”

He shrugged, muscled shoulders shifting under black fabric. “Sure.”

Karen leaned forward on her elbows. “Well… We’d usually go to my Grandmother’s,” she started. “She lived outside of Burlington, so we’d all pile in the car and drive down to see her. And my mom would always fight with the radio to get a good Christmas music station, even though we had CDs.” She smiled, moving her hands as she talked. “We’d get there, and it was just like out of a Thomas Kinkade painting, you know? Wintry and the windows all lit up, wreaths on the doors, and you could see the tree from the street.”

She glanced at him and laughed to herself. “Probably sounds cliché, right?”

Frank shook his head. “Nah, it sounds nice.”

“It was,” she agreed, nodding. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she continued. “There were presents all over the living room, but we had to wait until after we ate to open them. It was torture.”

“D’you do the Santa thing? Opening gifts in your PJs?”

“We always had Santa and stockings at our house,” she said. “Mom would make waffles while we tore into our new toys.”

Frank nodded, seeming to enjoy her story. But he watched her like he was waiting for something, searching for something between her words.

Karen kept talking-- describing her family Christmases, her cousins running around making a mess, building snowmen while the adults finished cooking, taking their Santa-delivered toys out to play…

“Who’s ‘we’?” Frank asked, cutting in on her last sentence.

“Oh, uh, me and my cousins, and my brother.” She punctuated it with a long swallow of coffee.

“Did your dad cook?” Frank asked, catching her off guard. “He in the kitchen or was someone out there watchin’ you?”

Karen struggled to laugh through her bewilderment. “We were old enough to play by ourselves,” she said, getting up for more coffee. “It was Vermont. Unless there was a moose nearby, we were safe.”

Frank grunted, clearly feeling the urge to judge. Overprotective to a fault. Karen smiled as she brought the coffee pot over and topped him off.

“It was a nice way to spend Christmas. I… I miss it sometimes,” she told him. “But I love holidays here too.”

“Amid the garbage and the slush, huh?” Frank arched an eyebrow, teasing her.

“It’s not all bad.” Karen sat down, facing him fully. “There’s Rockefeller center—”

“Tourist trap.”

“And Central Park—”

“Crowded.”

“And all the stores and their window displays.”

He hummed. “Yeah, alright. Those are kinda nice.”

“So you agree.”

The curve of his lip over his coffee cup made Karen want to giggle. She felt buzzed and she was stone cold sober.

After a moment, Frank’s gaze darted over her shoulder to the Christmas tree. “Y’gunna open your gifts?”

“Don’t have any.”

“Says who?”

Karen frowned at him. “What are you…?” She twisted, looking behind her. She couldn’t see anything from where she sat, so she stood up, wandering over to the living room. Under the tree was a lone wrapped present—green paper and red ribbon shining under the twinkle lights. Karen blinked.

“Frank…” she whispered, emotion building in her throat.

“It’s not much,” he said. “Just something to… to say thanks.”

“Thanks? For… what?”

He was silent as he watched her pick up the gift. She shook the box gently, hearing the contents rattle.

“I didn’t get you anything,” she said it a little teasingly, but the beginnings of guilt churned in her stomach.

Frank shook his head. “Nah, don’t need anything. Shit, you kept me from sleepin’ in a rathole apartment for a few nights. That’s gift enough.”

Glancing down at the tag— her name written in his tight, neat script—she took a breath.

“Go on,” he urged. “Open it.”

Sitting on the edge of the couch, she balanced the box on her knees, pulling the ribbon off and tearing at the paper. She read part of the label printed on the cardboard and her brows shot up in delighted surprise.

“You got me bullets?” She laughed, looking up.

Standing, Frank started towards her. “Figured you’ve been going to the range a lot—your aim is too good to say you don’t practice.”

“I practice,” she confirmed with pride.

“Thought maybe I’d get you something to help practice with.”

Smiling, she finished unwrapping the box and opened the lid, finger running over the shells. “No one else would ever think to get me ammunition for Christmas.”

“Glad I’m not someone else then,” he told her, tucking his hand in his pocket and sipping his coffee.

“Me too.” She said it quickly, earnestly, and with enough warmth to heat up her own cheeks.

Frank took a few more steps into the living room, hovering near the end of the sofa. “You… you gonna open your other one?”

“You got me something else?”

He shook his head. “Meant the one from yesterday.” He paused, waiting for her to catch on. “Said it was from your dad…”

Karen’s face fell. “Oh. No, I’m not.”

“Karen…”

“I don’t want to open it, Frank.” She stood up, placing the box of bullets on her coffee table and going to brush passed him.

“Why?” Frank tracked her. “Hey, hey, talk to me. Why--?”

“Because I already know what it is,” she snapped, pegging him with a hard stare. “I already know, and I don’t want to be upset on Christmas, so…” Pushing her hair out of her face, she turned to walk away.

“What’s the deal with your dad, huh?” He asked, tilting his head, eyeing her. “Does he… Is he bothering you? Did… Karen, did he do something to you?”

So much was implied in the question, she didn’t know where to start, and her frustration came out as a bitter barking laugh.

“Depends on what you mean.”

Frank was eerily quiet, watching her. The violent urges always simmering under Frank’s surface began to bleed into his features, the rims of his irises, morphing him into The Punisher right in front of her.

“No, Frank. He didn’t do something to me… not like you’re thinking.” She fully exhaled with relief as his darkness faded, Frank coming back little by little.

“Then what? What’s the deal?” He asked, jaw working.

She planted her hands on her hips. “Why are you so concerned about this, Frank?”

“Because…” He mumbled incoherently for a moment before clearing his throat and saying louder, “I don’t… I don’t like seeing you upset.”

She didn’t mean to scoff, but the harsh sound erupted from her anyway. “Since when?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what, this has nothing to do with me being upset.” She gestured to him, emphasizing her words. “You just don’t like not knowing something—It’s driving you nuts that I’m keeping something from you, so you’re trying every tactic you can to get me to spill my guts.” She shook her head, anger beginning to boil. “This isn’t empathy, it’s an interrogation.”

“Hey, that’s not—Look, I am concerned, okay? Don’t tell me I’m not—”

“Then why does it have to be on your schedule, Frank? Why can’t you just accept I’m not ready to talk about it?”

He set his mug down on the coffee table next to her box of bullets. “’Cause it has nothin’ to do with being ready—”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“C’mon, Karen, you really want me to say it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Karen,” he said her name almost like he was chastising her. “C’mon… You— I mean, I’m not an expert but—”

She scowled at him. “Spit it out, Frank.”

“You… You’re not doing well, Karen.”

The laugh that erupted from her was like ice shattering on concrete.

“Oh, that’s fucking rich,” she snapped. “You’re lecturing me now, is that it?”

“’Course not,” Frank said, shaking his head. “You know I’m not, I’m—Look, this shit with your dad, whatever it is, it’s just one part, okay? What you went through… The hotel with Lewis… losing Murdock—”

“Don’t,” she warned sharply.

He didn’t even blink. “All the other shit you’ve gone through. You don’t have to carry all that alone.”

“Wow, a month of therapy and you’re Dr. Castle now, huh?”

She regretted it the moment she said it. Frank needed therapy, needed to connect with other people, needed to talk about his trauma. She was proud of him. But he had his calloused, unclean fingers pressed against a vein she was barely able to keep closed on a good day, and that pain had to go somewhere.

Frank’s lip curled, a little too vicious to be a sneer. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Frank?”

“This, this backbiting bullshit. This ain’t you.”

“Oh yeah?” She snapped. “And what if it is?”

He shook his head, starting to wave her off, when she grabbed him by the bicep, yanking him back.

“What if it is, Frank?” Wide blue eyes locked on his nearly obsidian gaze. “What if this is me now?”

“So you—You wanna spend your life runnin’ on coffee and no sleep, diggin’ that hole deeper for yourself?”

“Stop! Stop presuming to know me, Frank! You weren’t here, you don’t—”

“I watched you every night through that goddamn window, you think I didn’t see you??”

His admission brought Karen’s thoughts to a halt. “You… what?” She breathed.

Frank started to shake his head, looking to the floor. “I… nothing, I just…”

“Goddamn it Frank, for once just—”

“Alright, yeah,” he interrupted. “Yeah, okay, I watched you. I didn’t… It wasn’t like that. I just… I’d walk by every night, wait to see you in the widow, see that you were okay. For a while, you were… I dunno, it looked like you were okay. But then… That light stayed on longer. I’d see you still movin’ around. Sometimes you’d be up at 4am—”

Karen gaped, unsure if she should be horrified.

“You were putting out a story in every issue of the Bulletin. You were doing interviews. But you weren’t even fuckin’ sleeping,” he said, sandpapery voice an octave lower. “Then, I’m staying here, and I’m seeing… I mean, Jesus, the last 2 nights… all fuckin’ night you’re tossing and turning—”

“What?”

“You talk in your sleep, Karen, y’think I wouldn’t hear you? You’re 5 feet away.”

“I didn’t…” She released him, backing up half a step. “I didn’t know I…” Her hand went to her mouth, fingers trembling against her chin.

Frank took half a step forward. “Look, I’m… I’m not…” He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Just… Who’s Kevin?”

Karen’s breath caught in her throat so painfully tears welled in her eyes.

“Y-you kept saying his name, over and over, you were crying it…” Frank’s voice cracked. “Is he… He important to you?”

Hand clutching her mouth, she tried to suck down air and couldn’t. She stepped around Frank, trying to get some space, some footing, something.

“Hey, Karen… hey…”

She waved him off, still battling the sobs lodged in her windpipe.

“I can’t…” She mumbled finally, shaking her head. “I can’t talk about this right now.”

She spun, marching into her bedroom. Finding her sturdy boots and thick socks, she yanked them on before grabbing her winter coat off the hook near her door. When she emerged, Frank was standing there, looking at her with concerned bewilderment.

“Hey, hey, wait, hold on,” he started, trailing after her as she searched for her purse.

“I’m going for a walk.”

“Karen—”

“Stop it,” she nearly screamed. Two tears streamed down her face as she blinked up at him. “Leave me alone, Frank!”

“I… Just—Please, Karen…"

She shook her head. “I gotta go.”

She could hear him call her name again, but the slamming of her apartment door cut off the rest of his sentence entirely.

. . .

#Kastle fic #my writing #my fic #LET KAREN HAVE HER MOMENT 2K18 #Karen Page #Frank Castle #it might be Christmas time in this fic but the angst is REAL #Happy Holidays have some tears #gotta keep the heartbreaking holiday season going idc that it's Jan.6th #otp: ma'am #post-TPS

26 notes · View notes

lucindarobinsonvevo · 6 years

Text

She’s Got It

A secret santa fic for: @queenbeazley! Title: She’s Got It (Also on A03! let me know if you have an a03 account and I can gift it to you : -)) Prompt: Lucien & Jean, meeting via karaoke night AU (bar or location of your choosing) Word Count: 4,000 (almost on the dot) Warnings: N/A A/N: Sorry I wasn’t more present in your ask box, RL has been hectic recently. Hopefully though, you enjoy the fic! I don’t write fluff or Lucien/Jean often (ever?), but I did my best :-) Merry Christmas, and I hope the new year is kind to you!

Well, your daughter only turns eighteen once, was how he mollified himself stepping out of the car. Li comically threw herself onto the ground, but stopped short of kissing the ground. “Oh dear God, I’m alive!” She exclaimed. Her brother scoffed as he slid out of the drivers seat. Charlie looked offended by her comment. “I wasn’t that bad.” He muttered, even though Lucien had to wretch the wheel out of his hand no less than three times.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a boy in a fairly poor George Michael costume approach them. Charlie’s boyfriend, Danny. Compared to Charlie, who was wearing the same denim jacket he wore every day with the addition of one ‘I killed Laura Palmer’ badge (taken from the shed, from a box of things Mei Lin left behind and Charlie had decided were his). “Good evening Doctor Blake!” Danny said, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. The 1980s music pumping out of the pub is a song he recognizes but doesn’t know. “Good evening, Danny.” He smiled. “My driving isn’t that bad, is it?” Charlie asked as they went inside. Danny pulled an expression Lucien recognized from his own marriage that was a ‘you are, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings.’ Expression.

“It is.” Lucien said, stepping inside. “Yeah. I’m adding another song for almost killing us.” Li declared. “You wouldn’t.” “It’s my birthday so you have to do as I say.” Li said. Charlie looked to Lucien for help but he put his hands up. “Sorry son. She’s the birthday girl.” Lucien said, as the four of them wandered over to a large booth towards the back of the building. Charlie slid into one side of the booth, pulling Danny with him. He slid in across from him, Li slid in next to him.

It was on his first glance around the room that he noticed her. She was standing up on the stage, holding the microphone maybe a little tight in her hand. Her green drop waisted dress looked like it came directly from the decade in question, paired with a blazer that gave her shoulders rival to his own. He can imagine going to a nightclub in town and finding her at the bar, sipping an exotic cocktail from a glass with a tiny umbrella in it. And that wasn’t even getting him started on her voice.

“The goddess of beauty and love, and Venus was her name-“

She’s got it, yeah baby she’s got it, Lucien thought, the lyrics to the Bananarama song echoing around his head. He hadn’t even noticed her equally 80’s backup singers, equally coated in neon, tulle and poor choices. He tore his eyes away from the singing to look at Charlie, who was waving his hand in front of his face. “Doc? Doc? Earth to doc!” In a comical fashion. “Hm?” “Do you want something to drink?” “Hm?” “We’re in a pub, Daddy.” Li said, “A place where people go to drink.” Charlie is holding his debit card, while Danny poured over a menu. “Uh, I’ll just…Have a lemonade.” He said, and then produced his own card. “Put that away, use mine.” Charlie shrugged, and tucked his card into his pocket. “Drinks on me.” “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” Danny said, blushing. “My daughter will only turn eighteen once.” Lucien grinned, “So drinks are on me.” Danny conceded, and trailed after Charlie as he went to get drinks.

Green dress has gotten off stage, but he quickly spotted her sitting in a booth down near the stage with her friends. There’s quite a large group of them, and they’re all about her age. “Are you going to sing a song?” She asked, looking at the man giving a rather disappointing rendition of Everybody Wants to Rule the World. “Maybe.” He commented, as Li started combing through the enormous book of songs that the machine played. She’d come prepared with a note pad and paper to write down the ones that she wanted to sing, or force her brother into singing.

“Have you heard from your mother?” He asked, softly. “She texted me this morning.” Li said, looking up from the notepad. “How is she?” “She’s fine. She likes Singapore a lot.” Li smiled, “Looking forward to when I come over for the holidays.” He nodded, and sat back in his chair. He was happy with the way custody was split, (or, had been split now she was eighteen) but that didn’t make saying goodbye to his daughter for months at a time any easier. Over time, his relationship with Mei Lin has gotten better, but it still wasn’t great. They tried their best to keep things civil for Li’s sake.

“I’ve got drinks!” Charlie said excitedly, coming around the table. He was holding a small pitcher of beer and a couple of glasses, and Danny was holding a can of Diet Coke, and a can of lemonade, as well as bowl of chips in his other hand. “Wooo!” Li said, enthusiastically as Danny poured drinks. Charlie slid back into the booth and popped the top on his Diet Coke, and slid a can of Kirks across the table to him. “They didn’t have any Sprite.” Charlie apologized, as Lucien took a long sip. “It’s fine.” He smiled, as Danny and Li tapped their drinks together. His eyes drifted away through the crowd, and he spotted green dress laughing with her friends in front of the machine, clearly going up for another song.

“Looks like we might be fighting for control of the machine.” Danny said, draping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders. Charlie looked for a moment like he might shrug it off, and then thought better of it, squishing up closer to Danny’s side so he could see the book. He observed the interaction and smiled to himself. He liked Danny a lot, he thought it was good for Charlie to be with someone who was affectionate.

Not for the first time, he felt a tiny niggle of jealousy deep in his gut. He and Mei Lin had married young, he wanted to upset his father, and he thought she was going to be the love of his life. Li was born, and things got miserable. He’d been determined that his daughter wasn’t going to grow up in an unhappy home, and he and Mei Lin tried and tried to work it out, but it still ended in divorce. Of course, then Charlie fell into his life, and he’d become a full-time father again, not just the half of the year when Li was with him.

He’d been busy, with work and child rearing (and drinking). He hadn’t done much by way of dating when Charlie was young, and he hadn’t since he moved out, either. His eyes drifted out over the collection of people, and then came back to rest on Charlie and Danny. Maybe it was time to get back into the game.

Green dress was back up on stage, her metallic blue eye shadow sparking in the light. She was alone this time, and her slightly drunk friends are cheering loudly by the stage.

´”You with the sad eyes, don't be discouraged-“

“True colours.” Charlie said, scribbling that down on Li’s notepad. “Have you heard her new album? The country one?” Danny asked, to which Li shook her head. Lucien drowned their chatter out to pay attention to the veritable siren on the stage.

“But I see your true colors, shining through. I see your true colors, and that's why I love you-“

“Don’t be afraid, to let them show…” He murmured under his breath. Oblivious to his heart eyes, the three young people at the end of the table pulled him back into conversation. “Alright, Daddy-o.” Li started, “We’ve picked out some songs.” He tore his eyes away from her for the second time to look at them. “Charlie is going to be singing Wake Me Up Before you Go Go-“ “Against my wil-“ “-Shut up Charlie, Danny will be singing Ice Ice Baby-“ “Which is actually from the 90-“ “Shut up, Charlie, I will be singing Cornflake Girl-“ “That is from the 90s, just like-“ “Shut up, Charlie, and you will be singing Mona.” “Which is also from the 90s.” “Which version of Mona?” He asked, ignoring Charlie. “Well, since you keep saying you look like him, the Craig Mac version.” “I think you mean Craig Mac and the Check 1 -2s.” “Whatever. It’s in the book.” Lucien looked at Charlie, who was arms folded and nearly pouting. “I’m lost, who’s Craig Mac?” “Craig McLachlan, people always say Doc looks like him.” Charlie said, filling his boyfriend in on the situation. “Who?” “Remember when I took you to see Rocky Horror?” “Yeah.” “The main dude.” Danny tilted his head and examined the man. “I can kinda see it.” Danny said, “Maybe if you were wearing lipstick.” “I told you I look like him.” Lucien insisted, as Charlie rolled his eyes. “People mistake me for him all the time.” “Sure they do.” Li said, rolling her eyes, too. Charlie is a terrible influence on her. “Well, if they ever make a movie of my life, I know who they’ll cast.” “Yes, Doc, they’ll make a movie of your life. Working at the clinic, driving Li to soccer practice and dragging your son to an 80s night and everyone decides to sing 90s songs.” “You don’t know that. Maybe I’ll save the life of a famous person, or be in a really bad boating accident.” “Yeah you don’t have to actually be good at anything, you just have to have lots of bad stuff happen to you.” Danny agreed. “We’re not living in Scream, Danny.” Charlie scoffed, “And if Doc’s life was made into a movie, what kind of dinky d-lister are they going to get to play me? Some dude who people only remember from one appearance in a shitty kids film, probably.” “Speak for yourself, I’m at least a B-lister.” Danny said, “Hopefully, some hot, young Home and Away alum.” “With my luck,” Li said, “I won’t be played by anyone because it’ll happen when I was seeing Mum.” The three of them tittered, and Lucien, having had enough of his spawns bickering, rolled his eyes. “I am going to que us up at the machine.” He declared, getting to his feet. “Alright, then.” Charlie said, handing him the slip of paper. Li slid out of the booth, and after a moment, got right back into bickering with Charlie. Lucien rolled his eyes, and wandered down to the front of the pub. The karaoke machine sat at the bottom of a little stage, and it seemed to be a free for all when you were putting in your songs.

He cued up each of the songs Li had written down, and then looked over at the machine. He typed in each song so they were cued up, and paused to watch the women on stage, belting out ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ as if their lives depended on it. Green dress was standing in the crowd, mouthing the word. He could walk up, and talk to her, if he really wanted. There was nothing wrong with that. But he’s a coward, and she’s here with her friends, so instead he goes back to the table.

“Who’s up first?” Li asked, taking another sip of beer. “Me.” Lucien scoffed, “Who else?” “Your freshly legal daughter?” “Don’t be ridiculous. Eldest first.” “Well, by that logic, I should be first.” Charlie counted, “Since I am in fact a one hundred and five-year-old alien.” “Can you prove that?” Lucien asked. “Can you disprove it?” “You look good for your age.” Danny said, “I would have thought you were only eighty-five.” “It’s not my fault I was blessed with beautiful skin.” He’s barely been sitting for five minutes when his song flashes on the machine. “We’ll be here.” Li says, all but shoving him out of the booth.

He hurried to the stage, and took the microphone in both hands. The lights were so bright he could hardly see the crowd, but he did notice Green Dress watching him, interested. Lucien has never thought of himself as a shy person, but damn she was making it hard. Look at you, old fool. You don’t even know her and you’re acting like she’s your high school crush.

The music kicked in, and words danced along the screen suddenly. He hadn’t realized it, but he’d started to sing. He was already at the chorus when his mind kicked in. He’d been swept up in the memory of playing this on Charlie’s school guitar with him.

“Tell you Mona what I want to do!”

He sang, the crowd cheering him on. Suddenly, he’s struck with a devious idea. He moved to the front of the stage, keeping his voice steady as he reached out, drawing on his inner Craig McLachlan, he offered green dress a hand. To his surprise, she took it, and let him lead her to the stage.

In the bright lights, she looks all but angelic. Her hair is ridiculously back combed and it looks like a halo in the light. He can’t tell if her eyes are sparkling or if it’s the makeup, but either way it’s beautiful. She moved left, then right, her hands suspended in the air as she moved in time with the bouncy music. Her lipstick is pink, and has tiny sparkles suspended in it. She smells like a mix of perfume and cocktails. He wants to keep starring at her as she lets him take a hand, hers fits seamlessly into his, and turn her around.

The light catches on the metallic fabric of her dress, and she can’t help but give him the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen as the song finally comes to a close. The romantic lighting fades away, and they’re back to standing on a demountable stage in a slightly dodgy bar in a worse for wear part of town. Only three of the lights work, and behind him the neon lights are only half working. They stand for a moment, looking at each other, before laughing. They get the same clap as everyone else, polite but mostly disinterested.

The next song clicks onto the screen, and both of them scurried off to the tables in the front row. Deciding that the kids could wait, he sat across from her, and they both looked at one another, before laughing again. “I must say, you’re a very talented singer, Mister?” “Lucien. Lucien Blake. And you?” “Jean.” “Nice to meet you, Jean. “And you.” “So what brings a lovely lady like you, to a place like this?” Okay not his smoothest move but it would do. “A girls night. No better decade than the eighties.” She grinned. Her teeth are white and square. “You?” “My kids birthday.” She looked at the stage where Danny was belting out Ice Ice Baby with enough enthusiasm for ten people.

“That’s one of yours?” “He’s actually my future son in law.” Pause. “Should I be worried about my kid dating someone who looks like me?” Apparently, his dad humor amused her because she chuckles. “Ahh, we all mess up our kids, comes with the territory.” There’s something sad under the laughter. He decides to take her mind off it. “Well, children aside, can I buy you a drink?” “Mighty forward of you, am I to assume there’s no Mrs Blake?” “There is not.” Not anymore, not that she needed to know that. She contemplated, before she nodded. She checked her oversized watch. “I’ll have a ginger ale.” Lucien grinned and made his way to the counter. He noticed Charlie is hiding his face, and Danny is now sitting on the opposite side of the table, and Li is all but skipping towards the stage. He grabbed a ginger ale, and a diet Coke for himself.

He returned to his seat, and delivered the lady her ginger ale. “Is this one one of yours?” He doesn’t comment on her usage of one twice. “My only and eldest daughter.” Li was singing off key, but what she lacked in nuance, she made up for with enthusiasm.

“I always wanted a daughter.” Jean said, “But God only saw fit to bless me with sons.” “How many sons?” “Two, Jack and Christoper Jr.” “A family name?” “After my late husband.” “I’m so sorry.” “This isn’t very good first meeting talk.” Jean observed. “As old people, we are strictly limited to discussing our children, marriages and the weather.” “And IKEA sales.” “IKEA is having a sale?” “Yeah it just finished, flat pack was half price.” He clicked his arms in front of him. “Damn. Just missed it.” Jean laughed, and took a sip of her drink, her lipstick left a mark around the rim. Interestingly, she doesn’t use a straw. They lapse into a comfortable silence until Li finishes singing, and Lucien has to do his fatherly duty and ensure he’s clapping the loudest. Li flung herself off the stage, and ran over excitedly. “Did you like it?” “Of course I did.” He said, irrespective of if he actually did. “It was great.” Jean said, as Li eyed her. Apparently, she passed the test, because Li grinned. “I’m going to force Charlie onto the stage.” Lucien caught her arm. “I know ribbing Charlie about his driving and bad attitude is all fun and games, but if he really doesn’t want to do it, don��t force him.” He warned her. “He’s allowed to bow out if he’s not comfortable.” Li nodded, and hurried back to the table.

“She seems like a nice young lady.” Lucien gave a wiry smile. “You haven’t gotten to know her yet.” “Will I?” “I haven’t decided yet.” He replied, “Would you like to?” “I haven’t decided yet.”

Lucien looked up as Charlie took the stage, his hands shaking hard as he tried to keep a tight hold on the microphone. Danny is already cheering, much to the annoyance of the other patrons, but they could all serve to lighten up a little. What Li had lacked in talent she made up for with gusto. Danny…Well Lucien doesn’t know; he’s pretty sure Ice Ice Baby isn’t even a real song, but he’d at least had enthusiasm. Charlie has neither skill, nor excitement, and his singing amounted to him mumbling into the microphone. But he gave it a shot and Lucien supposed that was the most important part

“One of yours?” “Yep.” He replied, as Charlie slunk off stage before he could even begin to clap; Danny cheering as loudly as he dared. He slunk off stage and into the bathroom. Lucien watched as Danny followed after him and supposed he got it covered. Jean touched his arm lightly. “He’s quite brave.” “He always is.” He replied, “Can I buy you another drink?” He inquired, smiling. Charlie would be fine. Jean checked her watch again. “No, but you can sing a little duet with me, if you’d like.” Jean said, swallowing the last of her drink. Lucien observed her for a moment, before nodding. “Of course. What do you fancy singing?” “I’ll surprise you.”

Lucien watched her walk away, and he noticed he’s smiling to himself. She keys in a song to be performed after the woman on stage finishes her (very enthusiastic) version of ’I Ran (so far away)’. While he waited, he wandered up to Jean, coming to a stop next to her. She smiled at him, and she looks like the sun has just risen for the first time.

When the woman gets off the stage, he joins her, there is only one microphone, so they have to stand very close. He can smell her breath: ginger ale and alcohol. Maybe a little bit of toothpaste. The song title flashes up on the screen, accompanied by an unfortunately fake sounding guitar: ‘More Than Words – Extreme’ Huh. He kind of remembers that song, but not too well. Not well enough he could sing it by heart, but It’ll do. Jean takes the opening verse, starting a fraction of a second before he can open his mouth.

“Saying "I love you" Is not the words I want to hear from you-“

Lucien is struck by the thought that her voice would sound beautiful up against a plain piano, maybe a metronome. It’s a beautiful voice, attached to a beautiful woman. He is ridiculously infatuated with her, despite having known her for less than an hour. Matthew was going to think this was a hilarious story when he shares it next time they meet for lunch.

That’s if he survives the teasing from his kids.

“What would you do? If my heart was torn in two?”

Lucien’s heart is already in two, but of course, he doesn’t say that out loud. It’s just a song, after all, it’s meant to be relatable. No one wants to listen to music they cannot relate to. It’s why teen pop sells so well, and also probably why Charlie used to have a wall full of Justin Bieber posters. Because people relate to having a crush, or being in love, or having whatever an Ennie Meanie Miney Mo lover is. And he, in his old age of fifty, can relate to having a heart torn in two. That’s just how it was.

Jean picks up for the Chorus, all but belting the lyrics in true karaoke style.

“Make things new, just by saying "I love you-"”

I love you. Lucien has said a lot of I love yous in his life.

To his mother. To his wife. To his daughter. To his son. To his close friends. To his dogs. He’s said a lot of I Love Yous and he is suddenly and shockingly struck by the fact that he would like, some day, to say I love you to Jean with no last name he met in a dodgy bar in a worn out neighborhood, like a fool. He is a fool. A hopeless romantic, sure, but still a fool. You don’t fall in love with someone you just met. Love takes time, and work, and effort, and he wants to do all that. But first, he just wants to get through this song.

“Touch me, hold me close, don't ever let me go. More than words is all I ever needed you to show-“

Could he have saved his other relationship? Potentially. Touch me. Hold me close. He wanted to hold someone close. He wanted to be held. He wanted romance, and love. Someone once told him, potentially Matthew, that he was built to love, that he had too much of it, and he was destined to be a bleeding heart. That has never felt more true than it did right now.

“La di da, da di da, di dai dai da-”

Beautiful.

“More than words-“

Wonderful.

Her perfume smells chemically floral. Her voice sounds like honey

The music fades out. Kiss her, you fool! Kiss her! Thankfully, Lucien is not a slave to his base urges, and he does not invade the woman’s space more than he needs to. They depart the stage, and she gathers her bag. Lucien casts an eye to his table. The kids are sitting and talking among themselves. Charlie seems to have recovered, and Danny is trotting to the stage. Lucien recognizes the opening to ‘I Love You, Always, Forever” if he’s ever heard it. Didn’t seem like Danny had much musical talent, either. Oh well, C’est La Vie.

Jean is speaking with her friends, he looks over at his one time companion. She’s holding a napkin in one hand, it has the logo of the bar in one corner and a stain that could be anything from grease to beer in the other. She passes it to him, and there is a note scrawled there in purple gel pen.

‘Lucien –

Hope you had as much fun as I did. Call me xx

Jean B.-

P.S: You owe me a kiss for next time.’

Then her phone number, and a kiss imprint, complete with tiny pink sparkles. He looked up, Jean was nowhere to be seen. Neither were her friends. After a moment, he moved back to the table, and sat back down next to Li. He put an arm around her shoulders and looked at her list of potential songs. Your eldest daughter only turns eighteen once.

#tdbmsecretsanta2k17 #mitziwrites #the doctor blake mysteries #lucien/jean #not going on to ff.net due to the fact that it includes song lyrics sorry to ff.net only people

25 notes · View notes

alexismav-blog · 6 years

Text

Merry Christmas

Author’s Note: Hello, this actually the first time I’ve posted my writing on Tumblr so please be kind. The characters in this short story are my own characters and this was just intended to be a short story to fill the prompt. I specifically chose cold night/no heater, “He’s not worth your tears”, and blankets for my prompt. This an entry for @justsomewritingprompts Writing Prompt Challenge so please enjoy! One final note italics are Emeric’s texts and bold represents Alec’s texts.

As Alec sat in the living room of an apartment he hasn’t been in for months drinking rum alone on Christmas Eve, he wondered what he had done to God to land himself in this position. My parents probably would have told me that when their son decided to sleep with men was the moment God condemned me, he thought after the first few glasses.

Alec heard his phone vibrate on the coffee table. He got up from where he was sitting on the couch taking the bottle of rum with him to see what was sent to him. He sees a few unread messages from his sister and uncle, and a couple from his friends wishing him a merry Christmas. At the top were a few messages from Emeric. The first few messages were a couple of pictures of Emeric and all their friends in their stupid Christmas sweaters with a tall man he presumed to be Alaric glaring in the background. A couple of the messages were videos of Wes’s drunken political rants. The messages looked to be from a couple of hours ago.

It’s only been two hours and Wes is completely wasted. I think that’s a record, the text under it read.

Are you honestly surprised? I’m guessing Josiah already tried to cut him off?

Yeah but he somehow managed to find more. I swear he’s a walking liquor store during the holidays.

Alec laughed a bit at the reply.

As he started his rant about capitalism yet?

No he didn’t quite make it there, Josiah made sure to take him home before he got that far. How’s your Christmas going?

Alec looked over at the empty bottles of liquor lining the kitchen counter.

It’s alright.

You sure you can’t swing by tonight? The invitation is still open, no Christmas sweater required. You can even bring your fiancé if you want.

The thought of seeing all of them is so tempting. After all, Emeric is only next door but Alec took a good look at how terrible he looked and how much Emeric and all their friends were smiling in those pictures and he decided against it. He wouldn’t want to bother Emeric with his petty issues.

No, It’s ok. I’ll probably swing by after New Year’s.

You sure?

Yeah, Merry Christmas.

Happy Christmas. Just let me know if you change your mind.

He plugged his phone to charge in the kitchen. He then walked back over from the kitchen and flopped onto the couch to get in a comfortable position as the aging sofa groaned in protest. By this point, he probably looked like a proper mess, his normally neatly combed blonde hair was rumpled and knotted beyond repair, his caramel brown eyes were bloodshot from crying, and his suit was wrinkled and his tie went missing sometime during the evening. He leaned over to grab off the coffee table the ring his now ex-fiancé gave back to him at dinner that evening as he wondered what went wrong.

Was he gone too often? Was he too cold and distant? Did Thomas think that he wasn’t serious enough about their relationship? Did he ever make Thomas feel trapped and overwhelmed? Alec couldn’t help but to be bitter about the sacrifices he had made for a one-sided relationship. He changed his friends. He moved out of his own apartment after graduating college so they would be closer without Thomas having a longer commute. Alec started working significantly less so he could be home more. He stopped going out without Thomas. Alec took care of the bills, the apartment, food, and anything else that happened to pop up. He did everything for a jealous ass who Alec came to find out had been cheating on him for most of their relationship.

He could no longer bear to look at the reminder of his failed relationship so he weakly tossed the ring out of sight and curled up into fetal position facing the cushions of the headrests. He attempted to fall asleep to the white noise of the heater whirring. As he resigned himself to yet another sleepless night, the whir of the heater stopped dead.

“Of course,” he grumbled.

He honestly shouldn’t have been surprised that the ancient heater broke down but it didn’t stop him from being a bit peeved. He refused to get up until it was so cold that he couldn’t stop shaking. He flipped over onto his stomach and placed his hands flat on the couch and pushed up in attempt to get up. Unfortunately, he got up a bit too fast causing him to become a bit dizzy and disoriented. He moved to steady himself of the armrest when his hands slipped causing him to lose his balance and tumble off the sofa nicking the coffee table before crashing onto the floor with a loud thud.

*******************************************************************************************

Emeric’s Christmas Eve was a fairly standard affair for the first time since he moved away from his friends in England. While his parents were unable to join him, his older brother and a couple of close friends were able to come. As per usual, by 10 in the evening Emeric’s friend Wes was already blackout drunk forcing Josiah to take him home before Wes hurt himself. Emeric, his older brother, and his sister-in-law were seated at the dining room table simply talking. To be more specific, grilling Emeric about his non-existent love life while Emeric checked his phone to see how his friend, Alec, was doing.

“Emeric, it’s been two years since you’ve even attempted a relationship. That’s completely unlike you,” Tsuna sighed.

“Tsuna, how many times have I told you that I’m fine. I just moved to America less than a year ago. I can’t even take time to adjust to a new country?”

“Little brother of mine, you and I both know that that is complete and utter bullshit. If I can remember correctly, it only took you about two months to find a serious boyfriend when mom and dad sent you to boarding school in England,” Alaric interjected

“So?”

Alaric raises his eyebrow, “You could only speak German.”

“I didn’t invite you here to be lectured about my life choices.”

“You make me wear a stupid sweater, I get to be nosy. It's a fair deal. Seriously though , I haven’t seen you single this long since you were pining for Grace - No,” Alaric smirked, “You like someone don’t you?”

“No, no I don’t.” Emeric’s phone went off.

“Emeric, who are you texting?” Alaric teased

“No one,” he sighed, “Excuse me for a second”

Emeric walked over to the kitchen alone to read the reply from Alec. He attempted to convince him to come over. When Alec declined, he left the invitation open but respectfully backed off. Emeric turned around after wishing him a Happy Christmas to see Alaric looking over his shoulder.

“Who’s Alec, Emeric? Judging by his contact photo, he looks awfully young for you. Pining for a student of yours are you?” Alaric quipped.

Emeric rolled his eyes, “Alec is a co-worker of mine, I met him when I was still a TA and he was a grad student, he’s not that young. Not that it matters because he is just a friend.”

“But you admit that you like him?” Alaric pales. “He isn’t straight, is he? ‘Cause if he is I’m really sorry about talking about it. ”

“That’s not the problem, He’s engaged ” Emeric glares, “He’s engaged to someone he cares for quite dearly and I’m not going to mess that up for him.”

“So you’re not going to try anything are you? Please don’t tell me you’re still hanging around him?”

“His wedding is next month,” Emeric sighed, “I’m going to be there to support him like I’ve always have.”

“Please tell me, you’re not going,” Alaric pleads.

“Kinda hard to skip the wedding, if you’re the best man.”

“Em-,”

Emeric cuts him off, “It’s fine, no matter what he’s still my friend first. If he’s happy, that’s good enough. I’ll move on eventually,” his voice trembles, “Just please go. I’ll see you on New Years.”

Alaric and Tsuna both quickly left the awkward situation, leaving Emeric by himself in his apartment. Emeric left the kitchen to grab his laptop from his room to drown his sorrows in Netflix. Just as he was about to queue up the first movie, the sound of the heater stops.

Emeric groaned but eventually raided his apartment for every blanket he could find and cuddled up on the couch. Just as Emeric was finally going to start the movie, he heard a loud crash coming from Alec’s apartment. As soon as Emeric realized where the sound was coming from, he bolted out of his apartment to rush to see if Alec was okay.

*******************************************************************************************

As Alec made an effort to get himself up, he felt a dull throbbing pain spread from where the left side of his body made contact with the coffee table. Just as he was able to get back on his feet and started walking towards his cell phone on the kitchen counter, there was a knock on the door.

He opened the door to see Emeric, ugly Christmas sweater and all, standing in the doorway with his black hair ruffled and green eyes filled with concern.

“Jesus it’s freezing,” Emeric shivered, “Are you alright? I heard a crash and I wanted to make sure you and your fiancé were ok?”

Only God knows what came over Alec but he just started sobbing. Emeric rushed him back into Alec’s apartment to sit down. They sat on the creaky sofa for what felt like hours as Alec sobbed into his shoulder while Emeric murmured assurances to Alec in attempt to get him to calm down. His tears eventually ebbed down to the point where Alec could actually meet Emeric’s worried green eyes without breaking down.

“I’m sorry,” Alec mumbled, “I’ve just been having a pretty crappy night.”

“It’s ok. Just threw me off that you started crying out of nowhere. Well not out of nowhere,” he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m guessing it has something to do with the fact that you’re drunk alone on Christmas instead of with your fiancé?”

Alec looked down as he started fidgeting with his hands, “Ex, he’s my ex-fiancé now.”

Emeric’s face turned paper-white, “I’m so sorry. I feel like a bit of an ass now.”

“It’s alright, you didn’t know. It’s just,” he started rambling, “My douche of an ex just wanted to have ‘a holiday to ourselves’ so I didn’t get to see my sister or uncle when I haven’t seen either of them in well over a year. A-a-and then guess what? He decides to call off our engagement a month, a month, before our wedding because, you guessed it, he’s been cheating on me with his best friend for three years of our four-year relationship and he just wants to ‘move on from this’.”

He could feel himself start to cry again, “I just feel so stupid because I sacrificed everything for him. I gave up my family, my friends, my financial independence because I was dumb enough to think, ‘Well he’s stuck by my side since we were kids surely he would continue to do so’. I did all this to be told sorry, I’ve never actually loved you. Now I’m going to have to explain to everyone that sorry, the wedding’s off because my fiancé is sleeping with his best friend. And of course, of course, when I get back to my apartment which I haven’t been in for months, the heater breaks down on the coldest night of the year and all my blankets and crap are back at his apartment.” He takes a deep breath,” I’m sorry. I know you were with your brother and I’m just wasting what little time you have with him and you don’t want to hear all this depressing stuff on Christmas-“

Emeric grabbed Alec’s hands and cut him off, “It’s not a problem Alec. Even if Alaric was still here, which he isn’t, I would still want you to tell me what’s upsetting you. I would be a terrible friend if I wouldn’t try to help you. Trust me when I say that you have every right to be upset and I’m happier knowing that you’re sharing these problems with me instead of drowning them with a bottle of whiskey. Okay?”

“Ok.”

Emeric let go of Alec’s hands and stood up, “I’ll be right back just give me a minute. He runs quickly out of the apartment.

After a few short minutes and a couple of thuds, Emeric walked in with a large pile of blankets and his laptop precariously balanced on top. Alec moved to stand up to help him.

“No, you just sit down. Give me a second to situate everything.”

Emeric laid out the mountain of blankets on the couch and sat down right beside him. He turned his laptop on and pulled up Netflix.

“Any preferences?” Emeric asked

“Home Alone?”

“I thought so.”

Two movies later and Alec found himself falling asleep curled up against Emeric’s longer build with Emeric’s arm wrapped around Alec.

“Alec,” Emeric whispered.

Alec murmured an acknowledgement as he turned to look up at Emeric.

“I’m really sorry that your Christmas was ruined. The way your ex treated you was absolutely unforgivable. I hope you realize that you didn’t deserve what he did to you. There is far more out there for someone as loyal and kind as you than sleazy, unfaithful men like him. Trust me when I say, he’s not worth your tears.”

Alec hugged him tightly,” Thank you, I don’t think you realize how much I needed that today. Merry Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas.”

The two of them drifted off to sleep cuddled together, the frigid winter night forgotten under the warm pile of blankets.

Final Author’s Note: This is a bit later than when I was planning on posting this but I wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year

#justsomewritingprompts #justsomewritingprompts writing challenge #writing #christmas

0 notes