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genyatta-ss · 7 years

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Cookie Cutter

from @melyntenshi:

Happy Holidays to D! (@dontneed-nohealing!) This was fun to write! I hope that this was fluffy and cute holiday stuff for you!

There was something utterly unreal about the idea of their ragtag group of mercenaries deciding to do this. Even after the discussion of their pasts actions towards one another, as well as the fact that about 90% of them had some sort of criminal connection or bounty on their head (or death certificates for at least two of their members), a Christmas Celebration was in order. It did not seem to matter that some members of the group did not celebrate the season (In fact, Ana and Fareeha were the first two to drag out the ancient plastic tree hidden away in the storage room). Nor did it seem to matter that some members of the group were on a path to redemption and did not want to be bothered with trivialities such as this. (Hanzo seemed particularly off-put with the idea of socializing). It was the holidays, damn it, and they were going to have a party.

Winston was pleased with the idea of organizing and setting out tasks. As of late, with more and more joining the cause it meant there were more personalities on base, the routine of Overwatch just did not exist. More old soldiers who believed that the old, military way Overwatch had been run before was just fine, thank-you-very-much mixed in with the new recruits who wholeheartedly believed they could change the world. It was refreshing to see everyone join in together for the cause and Winston delighted in the fact that everyone wanted to perform well.

Tasks had been assigned to every member, such as who would be decorating the mess hall(Thank god Tracer and Emily were tasked with that) and who would be bringing what to eat. McCree had been tasked with bringing the main course (roasting both a ham and a turkey. The man wanted to show off his cooking skills and no one was going to take that away from him). D.va and Lucio were assigned entertainment (Genji was convinced that this was no accident, even if Winston claimed it was completely and totally random).

Genji and Zenyatta were assigned a task together; bringing dessert. Cookies. Fareeha insisted on it. Nothing screamed out the holidays more than plain, simple gingerbread cookies. It was a perfect task for them, sweet and easy. Cookies were not a hard task, Genji had eaten plenty of them in his life. And Zenyatta was always so delicate with his work that the frosting and decorating the treats would be a task they both would enjoy. Then they were told they were not allowed to get that “pre-made crap” according to Fareeha. Home baked. From scratch.

Again, they were lucky enough to have a friend like Jesse McCree around. After scouring through the remaining books left over in the kitchen, Genji was quick to realize that deserts were not a necessity on a military base. Jesse McCree, on the other hand, had a liking to everything that happened in the kitchen. The man enjoyed food plus he was the best friend that anyone could ask for, and almost like a second brother to the cyborg.

Jesse was eager to honor the request, handing Genji a folded, yellowed paper. As everything else in Jesse McCree’s life, it had a sentimental story attached to it. It was his Grandmother’s recipe that went back generations. It had been perfected through the years and now, it made award-winning, sweet gingerbread cookies. While his tone had been mirthful, there was an underlying threat attached: Do not lose his gingerbread cookie recipe.

Genji had been delighted. He was even more delighted when Jesse left a basket of ingredients outside their door, simple things that the commons already possessed like flour and baking soda. Taped to the top, in his scrawl of handwriting was a list of things that they would need to pick up on their own.

He and Zenyatta then bundled up tight and made their way into town, arm in arm, to obtain the rest of the needed elements, like frosting and molasses.

Genji smiled and leaned against the warm frame of his master, his arm linked in the crook of the other’s elbow and the managed their way through the soft cascade of snow on their way back to the base. There was a beautiful silence that always came with a snow like this, it muted out the cars and noise that usually permeated a city and instead made the whole street feel like a fairytale. The gentle crunch of the soft snow under his feet and the whir of Zenyatta’s mechanics were the only things needed, grounding him to the reality of this beautiful town.

The Gibraltar base was now under surveillance. Talon operatives managed an ambush just outside the city and the misfit group of heroes had retreated north, to the city of Lyon in France. They would return at the new year, recharged and reawaken to the cause, but for now, they were holed up here, where it felt like a Christmas he had once seen in pictures where snow fell in large flakes and frost etched into every window. The sun was low in the sky and slowly the streetlights twinkled on, casting long shadows along the empty street. It was beautiful and perfect.

Zenyatta’s arm fluidly moved around Genji’s trim waist and pulled the cyborg near and nuzzled his faceplate against the other’s jaw. “It is rather chilly out, do you not agree?”

Genji snickered and leaned further into the other, nuzzling with affection, “Of course, my master. We should get back home before we catch our death out here.”

Zenyatta let out his own, tinkering laugh and squeezed him tighter, delighted in their own joke. While the weather was less than ideal for most, Genji could hardly feel cold. Most of his body was made of metal and wires now and the parts that weren’t made of metal were snuggly tucked inside his comfortable metal armor. Little things like the cold hardly bothered him now.

“What is the first thing we need to do when we get back?” Zenyatta’s soft, calming voice felt so near to his heart and Genji fluttered a little. “I must admit, my student, that I have never once created a cookie in my existence. I am excited about the undertaking.”

Genji let out a soft laugh and nestled in as they approached their makeshift home. “It is not impossible. They are cookies, people make them every day. I am sure we will manage.”

___________

The frowned set deeply on his features as he looked at the things set up before him neatly and he was momentarily thankful he had not removed his armored mask yet.Metal bowls were arranged in order according to their size, measuring cups (both kinds, for wet and dry ingredients), metal sheets for cookies and tiny little cookie cutters in the shape of tiny human beings and, of course, the recipe itself.

Zenyatta’s elegant fingers moved with precision as he tied a pink apron over his casual clothing before flattening out the front from wrinkles. Genji smiled and leaned on the counter, pulling out his phone to snap a few pictures while he removed his facemask, setting it out of the way. “Master, I doubt you will be spilling things on yourself. Those are meant only for children,” He laughed as he set aside his faceplate on the table.

Zenyatta hummed happily as he rolled the long sleeves of his holiday sweater up his elegant arms, “I am going to follow the rules to the letter, my student. Aprons are required for cooking to keep it a sanitary work station. Now, wash your hands with soap and water.”

Genji laughed again, moving over to hug his master around the middle, resting his chin against the other’s shoulder and basking in the warmth of his frame. It surprised him how wonderfully warm the omnic could be, even in the chilliest of nights. He was entirely grateful for Angela giving him receptors throughout his body to keep his temperature regulated (“You are still human, and you will get sick if you do not take proper care of yourself). “Master,” He let his lips dance along the thin wires of the other’s neck, feeling him shudder in his arms. “Your hands, as well as mine, automatically sanitize themselves. We do not have to bother with those things.”

“Genji, the instructions to any cooking project explicitly state that we must wash our hands and our workspace, especially after handling meat. I do not wish to infect any of our friends with disease.” There was a teasing tone to his words like he wanted to experience the totality of baking from a human’s perspective. Genji was more than happy to oblige.

He stepped away to the sink and began to gingerly wash his hand in the warm water, smiling at the simple act. It felt strange, participating in this ritual that had been ingrained in him as the other watched on in fascination. “The trick to washing your hands, Master, is to make sure you get in between your fingers and make sure all the soap is completely washed off. If it is left on, it can irritate your skin and leave a disgusting taste in the food.” He turned off the water and picked up a festive reindeer towel left out by the sink as he dried his hands. “Would you like my help?”

“No, my student. My hands self-sanitize, I do not think it is necessary to wash,” Zenyatta moved past him to the crumpled and worn recipe. “Besides, water is always so terribly difficult to dry out of my joints, I think it would be best for the recipe if I don’t waste our time with washing.” There was that teasing tone again, the one he reserved for private moments with Genji. The omnic was endlessly fascinated with every mundane aspect of human rituals, like dressing for the weather and basic medical care, even to the point of wishing to participate, even when it was unnecessary. Humans were so fragile and delicate, the monk would muse, it was a beautiful thing to see how much care went into their daily lives.

Zenyatta held the recipe out to Genji with reverence, like it was a sacred text bestowed on them for safe keeping, and not McCree’s Grandmother’s cookie recipe. He smiled as he took the folded, stained and yellowed paper card and unfolded it with as much reverence as Zenyatta had shown. He laid it on the counter, running his hand over the creases to straighten it out as they both gazed at Jesse’s weathered and sloppy script. Things had been crossed off or erased, the ink bled from some long dried droplet of water, obscuring some of the tiny notes left the margins with phrases like ‘Not again’ and ‘no lime’. Genji smiled. Jesse had tinkered with the recipe until it sat in this current state. He wondered how much of his grandmother’s original recipe actually remained and how much was Jesse’s own concoction.

Genji’s eyes darting to his left, watching as Zenyatta turned away to adjusted one of the metal bowls, aligning it with the others in a perfectly straight row before humming contently. He looked absolutely adorable in his well pressed, perfectly clean apron and perfectly neat pulled up sleeves. He looked so serious while he went about his tasks, making sure everything was in its perfect place before turning back to him “Well, Genji, what is the first step? I will take your lead here, as you are the expert and I the student.”

Genji flushed he turned back to the counter and away from his master’s eyes. Surely this could not be so difficult. The whole recipe rested on a single side of the page, fourteen easy steps. They were cookies. Simple, holiday cookies. A staple in many homes. Of course, they would not be terribly complicated, if they were, no one would make them. Hell, he could probably eliminate some of these steps and combine them together. It was just putting food items together. Did it really matter the order in which they went?

Genji felt pride swell inside him as he cleared his throat dramatically. He would be teaching his master something new, something that was completely human. He had participated many times as a child with preparing and baking cookies. He enjoyed the simple times and now he could share them with the person the most important to him.

“The first step, Genji,” Zenyatta trilled again, his voice still even and content as it pulled him from his memories.

Genji looked at the badly written recipe and read the entire recipe over the first several steps were all about mixing things together. Easy. Jesse must have separated them into smaller steps just to make sure he did not miss anything. Well, Zenyatta was an omnic. He had a perfect, photographic memory. “In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon, and cloves until well blended.” He looked over the items lined up on the counter and nodded in approval.

“How small?” Zenyatta asked. “We have seven different sizes of mixing bowls.”

A pang of anxiety ran up his artificial spine as he looked over at the bowls, that ranged from the size of an egg all the way up to one that could easily fit an infant. Genji gave a quick shrug and looked back down. “It just says medium so…give me the third one in?” Zenyatta held out a bowl that would have easily fit one that would have fit a bag of microwave popcorn. He nodded in approval. This was small, but not too small. It would work perfectly.

Genji looked back to the recipe. “So flour first…” He looked back up to see Zenyatta already cradling the bag to his chest in one arm, the other pulled it open so carefully not even dust flew out. Genji swelled with pride. This was going to be simple. He picked up the measuring cup and began to liberally scoop out the two of the cups that were required, plopping them into the small bowl with a little ‘plaph’, until the flour threatened to spill over.

Genji dipped his hand back into the bag and pulled out a liberal amount for the third cup. Just a little extra flour would not hurt the recipe, he reasoned.

“Is this to be exact?” Zenyatta hummed as he looked back to the paper. “It says three, my guess is that is more like three and three-fourths.”

“I do not think so,” he waved Zenyatta off and set the plastic measuring cup on the counter as he took the bowl from him. “I have watched McCree bake many times and he seems to just add things as he sees fit. Why do you ask, Master?”

“I have never baked before,” the omnic chatted as he moved back to the counter, setting the flour aside and folding over the top to close it. He turned and looked over the different measuring spoons laid out before him, from smallest to largest. “It calls for one and a half t’s of baking powder. What is a t?”

Genji blinked. “I would guess the one labeled with a ‘t’ would be the teaspoon.” It was logical. Baking was not an exact science, it was throwing things together into a bowl then cutting out shapes from the mixture and shoving it all in the oven. McCree did it all the time while dirtying up the entire kitchen. There was no way that Genji could not match him step by step.

Zenyatta grew quiet. His hand hovered above the different spoons, reaching out before recoiling. “Genji, they are all labeled with ‘t’s.”

“Then the one labeled as 1 and the one labeled ½,” Genji shrugged. “Simple mathematics, you know? We can add things together”

Zenyatta reached out and picked up two spoons. “Genji, there are two that have 1 on them,” His voice was filled with distress. He held them out at arms reach for Genji to inspect. It was true, there was a difference in their size. “This one says it is a teaspoon, while this one is a tablespoon.”

Genji felt the sweat break out on the back of his neck as his eyes darted between the two spoons. He had not expected there to be measuring equipment labeled as such. “Um….the bigger one?” He shrugged. “I mean, they are cookies, adding more would only make it better, right?”

Zenyatta let out a soft hum and looked down at the spoons in his hand.“Genji, I am not convinced. There is quite a difference in size, it might change the composition of the cookies.”

Genji smiled at his master and wrapped his arm around the omnic’s shoulders and gave him a quick, reassuring squeeze as he looked down at the two spoons. It was true, the spoons were quite different in size. His stomach twisted as he gazed at the both of them. “What is the worst that can happen? It is such a small amount of baking soda and baking powder, I am sure it will not affect the taste at all,” he lied.

Zenyatta stared down at the two spoons in both his hands one final time before setting down the larger of the two. “Then, I believe that less should be sufficient. More sugar, less of these.”

Genji gave him a quick peck on the cheek and held out the bowl of dry ingredients for him. The omnic slowly measured out one and a hand ‘t’ of baking powder and gingerly let it drop into the bowl, followed by the baking soda and salt. He looked into the bowl, at the different textures of white powder before giving a short nod. He took up a wooden spoon and began to stir the ingredients together.

Genji shrugged again as he stepped away, “They are cookies. If it doesn’t taste right, we will just add more sugar,” The words left his lips and he suddenly felt the sweat trickled down his neck more. The anxiety swelled in the pit of his stomach as he mulled over Zenyatta’s words. How bad could the cookies be?

Genji turned back to the spices and fiddled around with the different bottles as his mind began to spiral. ‘How could you know?’ His mind asked over and over. How could either of them know? Zenyatta was an omnic. He had never baked cookies before in his life because he had never eaten in his life. And Genji…

After all the augmentations, the many surgeries he had to endure to replace and repair his body left him with a muted sense to taste and smell. He frowned slightly, rolling his tongue into his mouth and wondering if he even could taste the sugar now.

He had experience though. He had been a complete human at one time in his life, and as a human, he consumed many varieties of sweets and pastries. His father had a private baker in the castle. A woman that Genji loved spending his free time with the woman, watching as she meticulously crafted sweets and treats for the castle. She would smile over to his perch at the counter and wink before handing him the spoon to lick off. She would sneak boxes of treats meant for him and his brother, making his whisper promises in the dark to not reveal who broke the brother’s strict diet.

It took years for Genji to realize that was part of the game. Father would have never stood for anyone lying under his watchful eye. He would never have allowed anyone to harm his boys especially.

But…had he ever helped the woman bake? Had he ever did more than occupy her time and taste test her creations? His mind could not remember…

“All mixed,” Zenyatta set the bowl down, his pink apron still pristine and beautiful. “What next, my sparrow?”

Genji felt the smile creep back on his face from the sweet name. He looked back to the recipe “In the KitchenAid beat butter, brown sugar, and egg on medium speed until well blended.” He let the words hang in the air and looked over. “What is a KitchenAid?”

Zenyatta chuckled and began to unwrap the sticks of butter that was laid out before taking out a knife and cutting out the amount that was needed for the recipe. “I do not understand what it is at all, but I understand the term ‘beat’ and ‘blend’. We must add these ingredients together.”

“The butter is rather hard, Genji. How would we go about softening it so it will mix in?”

A light bulb went off in his head. The microwave. He easily slid the butter into a small, glass jar and popped the whole thing into the cooking device. “How long do you think it would take to melt it?” He asked as he rammed his fingers into the buttons. “I am thinking five minutes should do it.”

“Five minutes sounds reasonable,” He nodded as he slid a delicate finger across the top of the brown sugar, even it out in the measuring cup before dumping it into the same bowl with the flour and egg. “And humans do not consume the shell of the egg, correct?”

Genji nodded. Eggs were familiar territory. He understood how to eat eggs. He knew how to make them as well. “The shell is trash. We do not eat that part.”

“Good,” Zenyatta picked up the wooden spoon again and continued to mix the ingredients together. He could smell the ginger and cinnamon clearly now, letting it waft over his muted senses. “I assumed so, but I wanted to make sure.” He knocked his shoulder into Genji’s and leaned over, nuzzling against the other sweetly as he gave a short hum.

Genji flushed at the unexpected affections and let himself lean into the other’s warm frame. It surprised him how many people just assumed that an omnic would feel

Three minutes left on the butter. He stepped back over to the ingredients. “Well, it won’t make much difference if we continued on at this point, would it? The next several parts are just mixing more in with the batter.”

“I do not see the harm,” Zenyatta stated. He gave a shrug mimicking Genji’s own as he continued on, mixing in the thick molasses, vanilla. “My student, please set the oven to three hundred and seventy-five.”

Genji nodded and moved over to the stove and fiddled with it until he was sure it was heating on the inside. Again, dread crept into his mind. This was the first time they had even thought to use the oven, Genji spent most of his time eating whatever was in the mess hall and Zenyatta did not need to cook.

The loud ‘POP!’ from the microwave made him jump. The butter made another loud snap and pop as the microwave continued to whirr and spin. Genji ran over and pulled open the door and pulled out the steaming bowl. “Uh….butter is done.” He held it up. “All soft and….liquid.”

Zenyatta chuckled as he took the spoon and slowly worked the batter into a soft, brown dough as Genji slowly poured in the butter and watched as the mixture turned tackier. Was it suppose to look like that? The question came to his lips and he forced himself to bite it back. Zenyatta was counting on him to know what to do. “All right…the next step is to flour the counter and roll out some of the dough and cut out cookies.”

He took the bag of flour and sifted out a fine powder onto the counter as Zenyatta formed small balls of the dough and laid them out on the powder. “Master, are you not concerned about getting it between your joins? Earlier you worried so much about the water and this would be far more troublesome.” He gave Zenyatta a quick wink.

“I never worry about that, my sparrow. Besides, why would I when I know you would gladly be there to lick it away.” The monk stated evenly, causing Genji to choke ever so slightly on the air. His cheeks burned as he turned away, trying to hide the heat from his cheeks. Zenyatta chuckled and picked up the wooden rolling pin, applying a generous amount of flour to that as well. “Do not tease unless you are sure you want to get it in return.”

Genji floundered. He wanted to retort again. He wanted to send another quick snip at his master, but instead, he stood, mesmerized and transfixed watching how Zenyatta slowly worked the ball of dough into an even, thin sheet. He moved over and picked up the small, metal outline of a human and pressed it into the dough.

It wasn’t long until an army of tiny, sweet men lined the baking sheet, ready to go into the oven. Shoulder to shoulder as it were. The recipe stated five to ten men per sheet, but the sheet easily fit the fifteen men for their first batch. Genji nodded in approval. They were indeed human shaped. And they were mostly keeping their form, even if they oozed just slightly. He assumed they would harden while baking.

Zenyatta lifted the sheet and slid it neatly into the oven. “How long should we bake them for?”

Genji snapped up the recipe again and let his eyes wander down the page, ignoring the underlined section where it said ‘Refrigerate batter for four or more hours’. They were in a time crunch. Besides, what good would freeze the batter do? It would just make it harder to roll out. Besides, the cookies looked fine.

“It says…” Genji started. He squinted down at the scratch of handwriting as it got more and more sloppy as the recipe continued. “Either seven to ten minutes or seventeen to eighteen minutes.”

“That is quite the jump,” Zenyatta lifted the hem of his apron up and wiped the remainder of the batter away as he looked down. The omnic took it delicately in his hand and looked it over, humming. Genji knew that sound well. It was the sound of Zenyatta contemplating. A faint tick mark in front of the seven definitely made it seem like it was the number seventeen and not just a simple seven, but the number following it started with a one and, much to Zenyatta’s chagrin, was a circular number with a line drawn through it. It resembled a zero more than an eight…but there was doubt.

“Seven,” Zenyatta stated and moved to pick up the egg timer, twisting the nob until landed on the seven. “We will check on them after that time, then we will put them in for longer if need me. We can always add more time. We are incapable of retreating back in time.”

“Unless we are Lena,” Genji pointed out.

Zenyatta gave another little hum, one that said he was not amused in Genji’s smartassery. “We have time, how should we spend it.?”

Genji looked back to the counter and the three other trays waiting out. He frowned slightly, why hadn’t they slipped in one on the top rack and one on the bottom? It would have moved that much quicker…Next time…maybe they could even manage to put in all three sheets… “Well, Master, if it is all the same to you-”

“It must be an activity that we can stop when we hear that ding,” Zenyatta interrupted, pressing a finger to Genji’s lips. “So I would let all those dirty little thoughts you keep in your mind locked far away.”

Heat rushed to Genji’s cheeks again as he followed his master into their seating area. Zenyatta neatly folded himself onto the couch and held his arms open for Genji. Genji had to smile as he folded himself into the other’s arms and nuzzled against his neck. There was just something positively…domestic about all of this: Zenyatta seated with the pink apron still wrapped around his thin frame, completely clear of all mess. Genji peppered sweet kisses along his jawline, listening closely for the exact moment when Zenyatta’s internal fans would kick on and need to cool him.

“Sparrow.” Zenyatta hummed, his long fingers danced along his spine as he folded himself in more closely to his master. “We have about four minutes. That surely is not enough time for anything more than gentle kisses.”

Genji laughed and continued to kiss down his neck, letting his tongue gently lap at the thin wiring. “Do not worry master, I can finish in four.”

“That is a shame for me then. I thought I taught you better about patience.” Zenyatta stroked back up his spine and moved along his shoulder blades. “I think we will need to work more on that again.”

A shiver ran through his spine at the low tone of his master. He nuzzled in. “I never told you what it was that I wanted to do. I just want to enjoy the company of my favorite person. I want to kiss you and love you is all. I do not know what you are talking about.”

His hands moved up, cupping Genji’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together. Genji closed his eyes and pressed his forehead tighter against him before he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against the seam of Zenyatta’s faceplate. His arms slowly circled around his neck and held him close. He nuzzled in closer, moving his lips slowly across this faceplate, reveling in the quiet joy that came with him just being near.

His hands moved down his back, pressing him closer. “Master….” He gasped out.

And the timer dinged.

Zenyatta slipped out of his arms and over the back of the couch, into the kitchen. “Ah-ah, my student. Patience.”

Genji sprawled on the couch, stretching himself out like a cat as he listened to the clang and scrape of metal from the oven. He smiled as he heard Zenyatta hum as he slipped the next batch into the oven and clang as the door shut.

“Genji, my love,” Zenyatta called. “Come here please.”

Genji leaped off the couch and sauntered into the kitchen….and the great plume of smoke that came from the oven. His eyes bugged. “What…happened?!”

Zenyatta shrugged. “I came in here and…I believe that we may not have followed the recipe correctly.” He motioned over to the tray of cookies. The batter had…melted, to say the least. The cookies had spread in the heat before hardening over and becoming an ambiguous blog of burnt, brittle cookies.

Genji snickered. “Oh that is…that is bad…” He moved over and looked it over, snapping away one gingerbread man (monster?). The heat did not bother his fingers. As he twisted it in his fingers. He looked to his master. “I think that with enough frosting they can be salvaged.” He bit into it and mulled the taste around in his mouth.

“Do they taste burnt?” Zenyatta asked.

Genji shrugged. “I think they taste fine. I can pick up cinnamon and…ginger?” He blinked and shrugged again.

Zenyatta perked, clasping his hands together, “Splendid! I worried that they were beyond repair!” The omnic worked carefully, snapping apart the cookies and letting them cool on the counter. “It brings me great joy to know that we did not destroy them.”

Genji moved to the fridge and pulled out the different color frostings and laid them out while cleaning up the counter space, not once mentioning that he probably could not taste them if they were burnt or not. It would be better that way.

He looked over to his master again, watching as he slowly broke apart the cookies and set them aside to cool. “Look Genji, this one looks a bit like Ms. Oxton!” Genji looked over at the reformed cookie and the way its tiny legs were spread wide. “See, doesn’t this one look like it is running? And this one is missing an arm. We can put it back on with frosting of course…do you think we can decorate them to look like our friends?”

Genji’s heart swelled. He wrapped his arms around the other and nuzzled in. “Of course, Master. I think they would like that.”

_____________

Genji stood in front of the tray of cookies, all neatly arranged. Zenyatta had insisted on making a cookie based on every single one of the Overwatch members and then handing out the respected cookie to each of them as a present. They had spent hours on the decorating, making sure each one fit the personality of each operative. Cookie Zenyatta and Cookie Genji sat propped against the mantle, close enough together they could have been holding hands next to a gingerbread jail cell they concocted that held the cookie version of every Talon member (made from the leftover gingerbread people.)

Mei cooed over the tiny blue piped coat Cookie Mei was given and the white snowflake sprinkles. Genji was especially pleased with her cookie, as it looked very much like the climatologist. He also quite liked his Soldier cookie, as the black piping for his mouth twisted and made to look like he was scowling.

“Just know that Satya went to get a glue gun and ribbon so we can make these into ornaments,” Genji insisted as he handed Angela the Cookie Mercy (complete with tiny wings). “Please do not eat it.” He emphasized the word. The cookies were safe, that much he knew. But edible was another question entirely.

The doctor smiled and held her cookie up, looking at the soft gold glitter spread all through it. “Zenyatta, these are fantastic! Danke!”

McCree burst through the door with all the flair the cowboy could manage with a trayful of his own sweet treats. Sugar cookies and peanut butter blossoms and chocolate mint cookies; everything but Gingerbread. “Genji, I know you and Zen had yer hearts set on making a batch on yer own, but I couldn’t help it. I had some extra time in there so I whipped up a batch!” He cried out over the hullabaloo of the party, heading to a small table on the opposite side.

Genji slipped away, watching as Zenyatta handed Zarya the shockingly pink cookie version of herself. He made his way over to the cowboy “Thank you,” He whispered.

“Welcome,” McCree hummed back. “I woke up this morning and remembered the damndest thing from Blackwatch. Do you remember the time you tried to make scrambled eggs and got mighty irritated with how long it took, so you threw the whole damn thing in the microwave and caught the kitchen on fire? See, I was thinking back to that, and I realized you weren’t gonna follow my recipe at all. You would throw everything into a bowl, crank the oven up and make a right old mess of everything.”

Genji did not speak. He didn’t need to.

“See, and then I thought, well, Zenyatta there is a good guy. Very on it all, he surely would follow the directions…except he wouldn’t cause you gotta mouth on you and you wanna impress your boyfriend there with how awesome you are, so he wouldn’t follow the directions neither.”

Genji nodded.

“Then I get up and go right to my kitchen and crank these out cause who is gonna question Jesse McCree? When he gets an itch to cook, he cooks.”

Genji was eternally grateful as McCree turned and handed him a napkin with a chocolate mint cookie. “I take thank yous in the forms of bourbon or whiskey. The former over the later.”

“You will be getting that,” Genji chuckled as watched as the doors tentatively swung open and his brother joined the party. “Just don’t mention it to Zenyatta. I told him the cookies tasted fine and after we finished decorating them to just hand them out as decorations because they were too damn cute…you know?”

McCree tipped his hat. “I hear ya.”

Genji gave him a final punch in the arm before wandering back over to where Hanzo stood in front of the omnic.

“Hn,” Hanzo frowned down at the scowling cookie in his hand as Genji moved back over, snaking an arm around Zenyatta’s form.

“Merry Christmas, Anija,” Genji stated.

“I thank you,” He mumbled out and inclined to the cookie in his hand. Hanzo was not the sentimental type. He never kept things unless they served a purpose, but to see him here, with the rest of them, it made his heart swell.

“And Look, Mr. Shimada, I have given you the tiny chicken feet your brother always talks about!” Zenyatta sounded so impressed with himself, so utterly thrilled with the fact that he was able to make Hanzo’s cookie that he missed the massive scowl that was directed straight to Genji. “Genji said you were able to climb so easily because of your dainty ankles.”

Hanzo nodded and looked down at the cookie him, sitting in his hand again. “Genji was always very….astute.” He was always as polite and reverent as he had been taught, even if his current styling read more murder than holiday cheer.

Genji squeezed his master tighter. “Merry Christmas,” He repeated himself, not able to think of anything else to say at this moment besides ‘Shit, sorry I told everyone here your deepest insecurities. You see, I was in a dark place after you murdered me and-’

His line of thought went out of his head as he watched Hanzo pop the entire cookie into his mouth. It took the first chew to see Hanzo’s face contort the slightest.

“Genji stated that the cookies were far too cute to eat and has been telling everyone all evening that they are adorable decorations. You, Mr. Shimada, are the first to actually try one. Tell me how it is?” Zenyatta gushed, clapping his hands in front of him.

Water pricked the edges of Hanzo’s eyes as he nodded and chewed again. And again. Each time looking much more distressed than the last. Finally, he swallowed hard. “Was that lemon?” He asked, his voice straining to stay even.

“Oh yes! The recipe called to zest a lemon. I was unsure of how one would go about zesting a lemon, so I squeezed the juices into the batter. Is it lovely?”

Hanzo covered his mouth and nodded a few more times. Genji had to do the same to keep from laughing out at his brother’s misfortune and not due to a gag reflex.

“We have more if you would like a second,” Zenyatta produced a tray of unfrosted cookies.

Hanzo shook his head violently. “No!” He looked to Genji, panic in his eyes. “I could not possibly have another-”

“Anija has a strict diet,” Genji smiled, taking pity on his poor brother. “There is so much to eat here, I do not wish for him to reach his limit and then not be able to have any actual food.”

“Oh,” Zenyatta’s shoulders sank.

“I can…take a bag of them home though. Have them later.” Hanzo said. “They were the most…unique cookies I have ever encountered.”

“Wonderful!”

Genji curled up close as he watched Hanzo dart away to the liquor table as soon as Zenyatta’s attention was turned. He poured himself a big glass of some undefined liquid and drank it down in one gulp. Genji smiled, somehow this would be his fault. That he pranked his brother on Christmas with terrible cookies.

Hanzo would then seek retribution. He smiled and curled up to Zenyatta’s side once again. “Did you need to torture my brother so?”

“I was rather hoping that I could get him to eat more.” Zenyatta purred out. “I am sure if you would have pressed harder he would have eaten another.”

“And then vomited all over the floor,” Genji snickered. “You know he is going to come back at me for this. He’s going to shave my eyebrows or hide my Katana.”

Zenyatta pulled Genji in close. “Let him try. Nothing will ever hurt you, my sparrow. You are my all.”

Genji snuggled into his warm embrace. “Watching him eat that awful cookie was the best Christmas present I could have wanted.”

Actual Gingerbread Cookie Recipe

INGREDIENTS

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 1⁄2 teaspoons baking powder

3⁄4 teaspoon baking soda

1⁄4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon ground ginger

1 3⁄4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1⁄4 teaspoon ground cloves

6 tablespoons unsalted butter

3⁄4 cup dark brown sugar

1 large egg

1⁄2 cup molasses

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 teaspoon finely grated lemon zest(optional)

DIRECTIONS

In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon, and cloves until well blended.

In a large bowl (KitchenAid’s great for this) beat butter, brown sugar, and egg on medium speed until well blended.

Add molasses, vanilla, and lemon zest and continue to mix until well blended.

Gradually stir in dry ingredients until blended and smooth.

Divide dough in half and wrap each half in plastic and let stand at room temperature for at least 2 hours or up to 8 hours.

Preheat oven to 375 deg. Prepare baking sheets by lining with parchment paper.

(Dough can be stored in the refrigerator for up to 4 days, but in this case, it should be refrigerated. Return to room temp before using.) Preheat oven to 375°.

Grease or line cookie sheets with parchment paper.

Place 1 portion of the dough on a lightly floured surface.

Sprinkle flour over dough and rolling pin.

Roll dough to a scant ¼-inch thick.

Use additional flour to avoid sticking.

Cut out cookies with desired cutter– the gingerbread man is our favorite of course.

Space cookies 1 ½-inches apart.

Bake 1 sheet at a time for 7-10 minutes (the lower time will give you softer cookies– very good!).

Remove cookie sheet from oven and allow the cookies to stand until the cookies are firm enough to move to a wire rack.

After cookies are cool you may decorate them any way you like. I usually brush them with a powdered sugar glaze when I am in a hurry, but they look wonderful decorated with Royal icing.

#fanfic #submission #includes a gingerbread recipe check it out!#genyatta

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looonnamoon · 3 years

Text

I have writers block currently

But I wanted to write some krbk x reader Christmas stuff :)

Hope you enjoy sweets!

[Unedited]

Christmas Headcanons

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

- oooo you bet the house is going to be decked out in Christmas decorations (thanks to bakugou ofc :))

- and the house also gonna be smelling like cinnamon mixed with peppermint ♡

- kirishima always buys the Christmas calender boxes bc he likes counting down to Christmas (and also the treats too-)

- you better expect once the snow starts falling, there will be even more cuddling sessions

- you don't know why the sessions increase when the season rolls around, but it always feels nice to be snuggled in between your strong men ♡

- every morning, Bakugou will always make you guys a slightly Christmas themed lunch

- he also includes a little homemade cheesecake as an extra snack!

- Kirishima will also turn on his mother hen mode

- he will check if you put on enough layers, maybe you might need more like a neckwarmer or a scarf or both! Yeah, that's perfect okay, lemme go get everything-

*insert million layered y/n*

- he just cares abt you a lot and doesn't want you to get sick :(

- also, matching sweaters all the way baby

- it doesn't matter if you don't like them or not, you ain't gonna disappoint the guys, are you?

- ohohohhhhhhhh the gift wrapping.

- shit gets so intense

- it has to be perfect, according to Bakugou

- the best gift anyone had godamned seen in their life

- anything less-

- throw it out and restart again, Bakugou won't take loser gifts to give to people nuh uh.

-you guys also like to make a gingerbread house every year

- before, you guys just bought the ginger bread houses from the super market and builded it

- but after bakugou found a recipe off of a reliable source (a cooking blog he followed), he showed it to kiri and you

- and now, you guys always made homemade gingerbread houses

- speaking of food, because your guys house is fairly large, Kirishima proposed the idea of hosting an annual Christmas party for all of their freinds and family!

- when a snow storm hits though-

- on the couch, multiple soft blankets and pillows, warm cocoa, and some soft Christmas jazz playing in the background as you guys talk and snuggle together

- on christmas, its such a warm feeling all day

- from when you wake up, sandwiched between two large behemoths

- to when you all go downstairs and make some breakfast for eachother, talking softly about how pretty outside looks and how good the food smells

- to unwrapping your gift, a small velvet box

- confusion was written all over your face as bakugou gently took the box and him and kirishima knelt down on one knee

- to you gasping softly at the proposal and hugging your now fiancées in acceptance ♡

#anime #art #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #ugh hope yall like it #♡♡♡♡♡#bakugou x reader fluff #kirishima x reader fluff

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spiltmusings · 3 years

Text

Day 3 - Baking cookies together ft. Kita, Hinata, and Akaashi

Kita:

This year, he decided to surprise his granny with her favorite - shortbread cookies.

When he asks if you would like to bake with him, you say yes without missing a beat! More importantly, you were excited to show off your skills since baking was one of your hobbies.

Baking with Kita is really relaxing and orderly. He takes things step by step and definitely asks for your opinion.

As you prepare the cookies, you take a toothpick to create a little snowflake design in them as he smiles.

While the cookies bake, you both spend some time tidying up what little mess there was. When the cookies are done, you both have one each and hum in delight.

"These are as pretty as they are delicious. She'll love them."

Hinata:

Baking cookies with Hinata is fun and a little playful. You both decide to make a holiday classic - gingerbread cookies.

As his neighbor and friend for many years, you always had a great time with each other. You turn on some holiday music as you both hum and follow the recipe.

Humming turns into singing which turns into laughing which turn into a full blown dance off.

You do end up going back to baking cookies eventually but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Putting icing on the cookies gets a little messy but delicious nonetheless.

"These are great! We should do this every year!"

Akaashi:

Keeping with his calm and collected personality, baking cookies would be super chill. You decide to go for a fan favorite - chocolate chip cookies.

Akaashi follows the recipe to the tee, making sure the ingredients are measured out perfectly. Nothing goes to waste with him.

He looks at you and blinks as if he was in disbelief causing you to giggle. But it's even funnier when he does the same to you and laughs about it. He is cheeky for the rest of the time baking.

"I'm not sure why you put flour on me. I wasn't included in the recipe."

Check out the other 12 days of Haikyuu Christmas here!

#❤ kita #❤ hinata #❤ akaashi #🌸 fluff #haikyuu x oc #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #kita x reader #hinata x reader #akaashi x reader

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kerikaaria · 4 years

Text

Where You Belong

Vampire!Jungkook x Reader (Oneshot)

Genre: (PG15) Fluff with a bit of angst

Warnings: Mentions of death and blood

WC: 5.6k

Description: It took Jimin three weeks to convince Jungkook to spend the holiday break at his family’s house. Why he conceded at all, he had no idea because Jungkook knew it was a bad idea not only with what he was, but also since he had the biggest crush on you, Jimin’s sister. He had a feeling that whatever happened, he wasn’t going to make it out of this quite the same.

A/N - Written for the Secret Santa exchange with @thebtswritersclub for @jungkooksbroski! I really wanted to have this done by Christmas so I’m sorry it’s late :( But I had a goal to at least have it done before the deadline tomorrow, so at least I succeeded with that! I’m sure if you’ve kept an eye on discord you probably know why I wasn’t able to get this out sooner. And it might be a little more angsty than you hoped for, and I also apologize that I don’t write smut XD And I hope you don’t mind it being mostly Jungkook-centric :) But I hope you still like it! Merry belated Christmas!

“Fucking Jimin,” Jungkook mumbled under his breath as he stood outside the front door to the Park residence. “Why did I let him talk me into this?”

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself before entering, but realized too late that that was a mistake. You must have been close to the front door, seeing as he could practically taste your sweet scent. Which of course only made him berate himself once more for letting his best friend get his way.

“Yo, Jeon!” Taehyung called from behind him, dragging his own suitcase as he approached the house. “What are you doing just standing there? Knock!”

At least Jungkook wasn’t the only one Jimin somehow convinced to spend the holiday break at his house. Granted he was sure that Taehyung only needed to be offered once before happily agreeing, while Jungkook took weeks of convincing to come around to this.

Jungkook raised his hand to the wood, giving it a few knocks before Taehyung could complain again.

“Coming!” you cheerfully called, footsteps approaching the door.

Jungkook’s heart would probably feel like it was jumping out of his chest, were it still beating.

You opened the door with a big smile on your face. “Welcome!” you happily greeted your brother’s friends, stepping aside for them to enter.

Taehyung nudged Jungkook from behind when he didn’t move, still feeling all too nervous about spending the holiday break here. But he quickly gathered himself and finally walked through the door.

Christmas was just a few days away so your house was already littered with holiday-themed decorations, which Jungkook happily noted included extremely few religious items. You could blame mostly your mom and brother for that—they went crazy every year, super excited for the holiday. The only thing that was left to do was decorate the tree, which was purposefully held off until everyone had arrived so you could do it together. "I know Jimin is around here some-" you started before said boy came running down the stairs.

"Taetae! Kookie!" he exclaimed, throwing himself into their arms. "I'm so happy you guys are here!" The way he acted, you would have thought it had been years since they last saw each other.

It had literally only been two days.

Taehyung's deep voice rumbled in a chuckle. "Of course we're here, Chim! How could I pass up the chance to spend Christmas with the family who knows how to celebrate it right?"

Jungkook was much less enthusiastic in his response, which was of no shock to you. You knew (because of how often Jimin would complain to you about it) that it took a lot of convincing to get him to come. But even so, he didn't look miserable. From what you gathered, he just wasn't nearly as excited about the holidays as your family tended to be.

"Come on, let me show you guys to the room!" Jimin said, practically dragging them toward the stairs.

They barely had enough time to react, let alone grab their suitcases, so you took them instead, following behind the three boys. You knew your brother, and you had seen the antics the trio had gotten up to together, so you could only expect that this holiday break was going to be one of the most interesting ones you'd had yet.

"I still don't get why you were so adamant about not wanting to come," Taehyung said to Jungkook when it was just the two of them in the guest room, going through their suitcases.

Jungkook looked at him blankly. "Seriously? You should know why."

"What?" Taehyung pouted in confusion.

"Well, I don't exactly want anyone to know about what I am, do I?" Jungkook whispered.

"Spending a few days at Jimin's isn't going to get you caught," Taehyung said, shrugging. "Unless you think it'll be harder to control or something when you're around Y/n."

"I don't know, it might be." Jungkook sighed. "You know how flustered I tend to get around her. And I guess it's probably instinct or something that sometimes I just have an urge to-" he cut himself off and took a steadying breath, trying to not already get himself worked up when he had been here for barely ten minutes. "And besides, remember how quickly you found out about me? We were roommates for only a few days before I slipped up."

"Yeah, but you have me to come to if you have any problems. I'll keep you in check, don't worry!"

Jungkook eyed the other suspiciously, unconvinced.

"What? I will. Promise. If your fangs pop out or something and you don't notice I'll tell you."

"Don't say that so loud!" Jungkook whisper-shouted.

Taehyung chuckled. "Hey, stop stressing out so bad, huh? It'll be harder to keep it under control if you stress."

Jungkook closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right. I'll try."

Silence fell between the two for a few moments before a thought occurred to Taehyung. "Oh! Did you bring some with you, by the way?"

"Some what?" Jungkook asked, more than used to Taehyung's vagueness and random questions, but still confused nonetheless.

"Blood," Taehyung specified, making sure to keep his voice low this time.

"Of course I did." Jungkook even pulled out the small bag where he was keeping his stock to show him. "I wouldn't be dumb enough to go on a vacation somewhere without bringing enough with me."

"Just wanted to check. You know I can always help if you need it."

"We've talked about this, Tae. I'm not drinking from you."

"I just mean that it's an option if you ever need it is all. I trust you not to hurt me."

"Well, that won't be necessary. But thanks, I guess."

"Anytime," Taehyung said, and Jungkook would almost think he was naïve with that big smile of his and what he had just suggested, if he didn't know any better.

The first time Jungkook should have noticed Jimin was up to something was when the four of you were decorating the Christmas tree together. Apparently it was family tradition for the "kids" to be the ones to do it, something Jimin was more than ecstatic about but you seemed to be doing more or less to make your brother happy.

Not that you hated it by any means. No, Jungkook may have been Jimin's friend first, but he knew you well enough to be able to tell you were enjoying yourself. You just weren't as enthusiastic about the holidays as the rest of your family it seemed, merely riding the flow that they set for you.

Jimin was basically instructing you on where to place each ornament, where he felt they would fit the best with the array that had already been placed. It was of no surprise to Jungkook that you followed along with his directions with no complaints. You not only were more than used to Jimin's personality, but also found your own enjoyment by making sure your brother was happy.

He wouldn't have paid it any mind normally, if it wasn't for the fact that everywhere Jimin pointed out for you to place one of the decorations seemed to be dangerously close to Jungkook. The amount of times your arms brushed together, or you bumped into each other during the time spent adding ornaments to the tree was probably more physical contact than he had ever had with you before.

And that was absolutely not doing Jungkook any favors. He was already nervous enough coming here as it was, being this close in proximity to you for so long and in a much more personal setting than usual.

But maybe he was imagining it. Maybe, it really was just a coincidence.

One look at Jimin and the triumphant smirk on his face proved otherwise.

The second time was the next day when you and Jimin were supposed to be baking cookies together. It was your mom's homemade recipe that she had taught to both of you years ago when you became old enough to make them without her help.

Jungkook recalled Jimin mentioning before that it was one of the things both of you loved doing together this time of year. So he found it rather odd when Jimin ushered Jungkook into the kitchen and insisted that he be the one to bake with you.

"But isn't this your thing?" Jungkook asked.

"I have something I need to take care of today, so I thought you could take my place this year," Jimin said. He wasn't a very good liar.

Jungkook turned to look at you, silently checking if you seemed okay with this. When you smiled at him and lightly shrugged, he relaxed. While he was starting to feel suspicious that Jimin was up to something—although he couldn't quite place exactly what just yet—he knew it was pointless to fight it. Even if being alone in your kitchen, baking gingerbread and sugar cookies with you made him feel extra nervous.

You really knew what you were doing, easily instructing Jungkook on each step. There was a reason this was your favorite holiday tradition, and it was because you really enjoyed baking. Doing it with your older brother was an added bonus, but there was just something about all the ingredients coming together to make something delicious and sweet that was so fun and satisfying.

So you focused on that instead of how much you wanted to strangle Jimin. He just had to overhear you telling your friend about how frustrating it was to be crushing on your brother's best friend a month ago. And now he was doing everything in his power to get the two of you close, trying to play matchmaker.

Which to be honest was completely the opposite of what you expected to happen. You thought he'd be mad, tell you that Jungkook was bad for you and you should just forget about it. But instead he was thrilled. Not only did he get more material to tease you with, but he also decided he was going to try to set the two of you up.

He felt like he was doing you a favor, and you felt like he was making you suffer.

Although, you had to appreciate that Jungkook was a complete gentleman. Even though working together to bake required staying in close proximity with each other a lot, he was being very careful about keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you couldn't deny that this was actually really nice.

"This stuff smells so weird," Jungkook said as he measured the molasses. You had already put the sugar cookies in the oven after cutting and chilling them so they'd keep their shape, and now you were preparing the gingerbread mixture.

"Yeah, it does," you chuckled. "But gingerbread cookies wouldn't taste the same without it. I promise it'll all come together."

"If you say so," he said before his nose scrunched in displeasure when he got a particularly strong whiff of the sickly sweet yet sour smell.

You laughed at his reaction, taking just a moment to admire Jungkook's handsome looks while he was distracted with scraping as much of the thick liquid from the measuring cup as possible.

For a moment you let yourself think that maybe, just maybe, the reason Jimin was trying to push you two together was perhaps because Jungkook felt the same? But then again, would he have even told him that? You were sure that any conversation that included, "by the way, I have a crush on your sister" would have been just about as awkward as if you admitted to your brother that you had been crushing on his best friend.

Maybe you should just ride the flow of whatever your brother had planned. If something came of it, then that would be great. And if not, you could put this crush behind you and move on.

You decided at that moment that you would just trust your brother this time around, even if his track record wasn't that great.

The third time was so painfully obvious that Jungkook could no longer mistake what it was Jimin was up to.

Jungkook was sitting in the living room on Christmas day. It was the afternoon, having already opened all the gifts that morning. Which was a rather interesting ordeal. Despite knowing their personalities, seeing Taehyung and Jimin act like literal five-year-olds on Christmas morning who were overly excited when opening their presents was still incredibly amusing. Now that it was the afternoon, things had calmed down to a pleasant buzz and Jungkook was actually feeling really happy that Jimin had convinced him to come.

It had been a long time since he had last spent time with other people like this. The Parks were nothing if not welcoming, and he could almost fool himself into believing that this was normal, that he belonged somewhere—with people.

But he had to reel in that thought and remind himself of who he really was. The fact of the matter was that he didn't belong with people. He was a monster, and people were his food source. He couldn't let himself believe anything other than that, even if it was something that he wished were untrue with all his being.

So when Jimin came into the room, dragging you behind him and getting you to sit on the couch right next to Jungkook and then sitting next to you, he kept that reminder ringing through his head. He had to ignore that light feeling you just naturally gave him. He couldn't let his non-beating heart run away with fantasies.

And then Jimin was up to his tricks again, keeping you distracted from what he was doing by chatting up a storm about his thought process behind why he bought you the gift you received from him today. But Jungkook saw it plain as day.

Jimin was attempting to discretely place mistletoe that he must have stolen from another room's decorations on the wall behind the couch, right between you and Jungkook.

That was when Jungkook realized what Jimin had been doing the past few days. Making you constantly bump into each other when decorating the tree, baking cookies together when it was usually something Jimin did with you, and now putting mistletoe above you?

Park Jimin was trying to set you up with Jungkook.

And it almost made him want to smack him upside the head because Jimin was being an absolute idiot if he thought trying to set Jungkook up with his sister was a good idea. It wasn't. it was a stupid, stupid idea.

But then again, he couldn't blame him all too much when Jimin was clueless to Jungkook's true nature.

He realized, that was something he was going to have to amend—right now.

"Jimin, can we talk for a minute please?" Jungkook asked, completely interrupting Jimin's spiel.

"What?" he asked, eyes going wide when he looked over and realized Jungkook noticed what he was doing. "I mean, yeah, of course. What's up?"

"In private," Jungkook emphasized, trying to sound as stern as he possibly could.

"Why would you need to talk to me in priva-" Jimin was cut off when Jungkook quickly got up, yanking him off the couch and dragging him upstairs to the guest bedroom, leaving you behind on the couch and very confused.

After shutting the door behind him, Jungkook firmly stared down Jimin. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" Jimin asked, his heartrate increasing—whether out of fear or nervousness Jungkook couldn't tell. "W-what do you mean?"

"Are you trying to set me up with Y/n?" Jungkook asked more directly.

It was then that Jungkook realized it wasn't just the two of them in the room, when he heard a very surprised Taehyung almost comically scream, "What?!"

He took a quick look around to make sure there was no one else in the room who couldn't hear what Jungkook was about to admit, what he thought he would never purposefully tell anyone. Once confirming that it was just the three of them in the room, Jungkook continued.

"Is that what's going on?" he pressed. "You're trying to push us together, aren't you?"

"Wh- I mean," Jimin started, clearly very flustered. "What's so wrong about that, huh? I could have sworn that you were into Y/n by the way that you look at her with those googly doe eyes of yours."

Jungkook sighed. He didn't realize he had been that obvious, and especially in front of Jimin of all people. "Jimin, I can't. You don't want me to date your sister."

"Well it's not up to me, is it?" Jimin asked, starting to get defensive. "I don't get to dictate what she does and who she dates. So what if I'm trying to help her out? And what's wrong with dating my sister? What, is she not good enough for you or something?"

"No! That's not what I mean." Jungkook ran a hand down his face, pacing for a moment while he gathered the courage he needed to tell Jimin who—what—he was. "Jimin, you don't understand. I'm the problem. I can't date your sister, even if I wanted to. I'm-"

Jungkook was cut off when Taehyung leapt off the bed and stood next to Jungkook, firmly digging a hand into his shoulder. "Kook, what are you doing?" he harshly whispered.

"I'm telling Jimin what I really am," Jungkook replied, voice still at normal volume. "I can't exactly let him think that I'm a good idea for Y/n."

"Are you sure you want to do that? You don't know how he'll react."

"What is going on?" Jimin asked, getting more confused by the second. "What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Pushing Taehyung's hand off his shoulder, Jungkook braced himself to potentially lose one of his best friends. "I'm not human, Jimin." When Jimin very rightfully just stared at him confused, Jungkook added, "Well, I mean I used to be. But I'm not anymore."

"What the heck are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense,” Jimin said, taking a step back from him. “You sound crazy right now, Jungkook.”

“I know how it sounds. But I can prove it to you. And if you don’t want anything to do with me afterwards, I understand. That’s a risk I’m willing to take. But I just can’t- I need you to understand that your sister shouldn’t be with me, or even interested in me. No one should be.”

While Jimin still couldn’t understand what his friend was talking about, he had enough respect for him to hear him out so he remained silent while Jungkook grabbed a small bag from his suitcase.

“I used to be human,” Jungkook repeated, voice small. “But sixteen years ago my life ended, in more ways than one.” He unzipped the bag, pulling out an even smaller pouch of what Jimin could have sworn looked like blood.

"I had been on my way home alone late at night after going out with some friends," Jungkook continued. "I was dragged into an alleyway, and it was so dark I couldn't see anything. Except for a pair of bright red eyes. Next thing I knew, there was a sharp pain in my neck and I could feel my body going cold as he drained all the blood from my body."

When Jungkook paused, Jimin couldn't help but interject. "Wait. Are you telling me that you got attacked by like, a vampire? Vampires don't exist, Jungkook."

"I didn't think they did either, until I was left for dead by one." The sadness in Jungkook's eyes over recalling the memory felt like it was piercing into Jimin's soul. "I had to piece this part together later since I obviously don't remember it, but I was found the next morning. Buried just a few days later. Before they had covered my coffin though, I had woken up. But I wasn't human anymore."

By this point, Jungkook looked on the verge of tears. Taehyung was still next to him, now comforting Jungkook with a gentle hand on his lower back. "I don't remember much about my first moments as a vampire. All I know is that I was so hungry and I just went wherever my feet took me. I don't think I ended up hurting anyone, at least. When I started to come to, I was in the woods near the cemetery with a deer lying beside me and blood dripping from my mouth."

Jungkook paused, letting Jimin absorb the information.

"Wha-" Jimin stumbled over his words. "But you were dead? I thought- I mean- in stories or whatever, people don't die before they become vampires, right?"

"In some, I guess," Jungkook shrugged. "I've met other vampires since and have asked about how that worked. And from what I've been told, if a vampire feeds off of a human but doesn't drain too much blood, the human will be fine. When the human is completely drained, then obviously they die. But sometimes, the vampire doesn't completely kill them. They think they've drained all their blood and leave them, but there's actually still a little bit of life left in them. That's what happened to me.

"I was so close to death that everyone thought I was dead. But there was still barely that tiny sliver of life left in me. That's how a human becomes a vampire. Kind of messed up if you ask me, that it's usually unintentional."

"So, what you're saying is that you're a vampire," Jimin very smartly summed up. "And you're telling me because I was trying to set you up with Y/n and you think that's a bad idea because you're a vampire."

Jungkook nodded. "Yes, exactly."

"And you knew about this, Tae?" Jimin asked. When Taehyung nodded, he further asked, "How long have you known?"

"I found out the first week we were roommates at school," he responded. “Jungkook hadn’t fed in too long and I saw it.”

Jimin’s gaze snapped back to Jungkook. “Show me.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened, a bit taken aback at the sudden command. He expected Jimin to want proof, but to be asked so suddenly was unexpected. Once he gathered himself, Jungkook nodded. He opened his mouth just enough before letting his fangs extend, making sure Jimin saw it happen. Once they were fully extended, his eyes turned an unnatural bright red—a warning of danger.

Jungkook could sense Jimin's heartrate speed up once more, a natural reaction to being so close to a monster like him. But in true Jimin nature, he was quick to control himself, forcing his heart to calm down.

"You really are..." Jimin marveled as he slowly stepped toward Jungkook. The latter stood as still as possible, not wanting to make any moves that would scare him off. "I can't believe vampires exist."

"We do," Jungkook said, sounding almost solemn. "I don't belong with your sister. I don't belong with anyone. I haven't for sixteen years and I never will ever again."

"Aren't there, like, vampire communities?" Jimin asked, remaining a lot calmer than Jungkook expected.

"There are," he confirmed. "But I haven't found one that I'm willing to be a part of. The ones I've come across all enable each other to be violent and not fight their instincts. I don't want that. I've been told I'll grow out of it, that most vampires are like that at first but they all give in at some point."

"And how long do they say it takes other vampires to do that?"

Jungkook shrugged. "Usually by ten years or so."

"But you still don't want that," Jimin clarified.

"Not at all. I can't even imagine hurting someone. And I have met one other vampire who is like me. Seokjin-hyung has been around far longer than me and he has a way of getting blood safely, without hurting people. He's how I get these." Jungkook lifted the packet in his hand, which Jimin could no longer question what was contained in it. "Others say it's unnatural, that there's nothing like getting food from the source, but this satisfies me perfectly fine."

"And Tae, you've never been scared of him?" Jimin asked.

"I mean, at first I was a bit sure," Taehyung answered. "I didn't know what was going on and I kind of freaked out. But I've never once thought he would hurt me. I trust him."

Jimin locked eyes with Jungkook. a serious expression on his face. "Then I trust you," he said.

Jungkook's eyes widened in surprise, a tentative smile growing on his face. "Really? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Jimin assured him. "And I know what you mean about Y/n, I understand why you wanted me to stop trying to set the two of you up. But you do like her, don't you?"

Jungkook broke their eye contact, too embarrassed to admit something like that while looking at her brother. "I mean, I do," he whispered. "I couldn't help it. But, you don't have to worry about that! I won't try to pursue her or anything, I swear."

Jimin walked toward the door as he said, “I did mean what I said earlier. I don’t have any say in what she does or who she dates, even if I am her big brother and want her to be safe. So as long as I trust that she’d be okay, I wouldn’t stop her from doing anything.”

Your eyes widened when your brother opened the door in front of you.

“Why don’t you come in here instead of eavesdropping from the hallway, yeah?” he asked.

You looked at the ground as you stepped forward, embarrassed that you had been caught. You really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but when you had passed by the door on the way to your own room, you heard them talking about you so you stopped. And then Jungkook started talking about not being human and... Well, before you realized it you were listening in.

Your thoughts were all over the place after hearing Jungkook's story. You were overwhelmed with the idea that vampires existed, angry at that man—vampire, you corrected yourself—for what he had done to Jungkook, and sad for Jungkook and what he had gone through. You could only imagine how lonely he must have felt. How lonely he was still feeling.

One thing that he said kept repeating itself in your head. 'I don't belong with anyone. I haven't for sixteen years and I never will ever again.'

Once you were inside the room and Jimin closed the door, you lifted your head and met Jungkook's gaze.

His fangs were visible and you could see a red hue to his eyes, but only for a moment before Jungkook seemed to realize that he hadn't hidden them yet and quickly retracted them. In a split second he once again looked like the Jungkook you were familiar with.

But should you have been worried that seeing his other nature didn't scare you one bit?

"Y-Y/n," Jungkook stumbled out. "I didn't know you were listening... How much did you hear?"

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping," you said. "I didn't mean to, I just- when I passed by you guys were talking about me and then you started talking about your story and I just-" you bowed your head in shame. "I shouldn't have listened in. I'm sorry."

"So you heard everything then?" Jungkook quietly asked.

"I think so," you admitted.

"I can leave tomorrow," Jungkook suddenly said, making your head snap back up.

"What? Why?" you asked.

Jungkook's brows furrowed. "Why would you want something like me here? Knowing what I am now, why would you want me staying in your house?"

"Jungkook," Taehyung whined, a frown on his face.

You saw Jimin glance at you out of the corner of your eye. "We never said we wanted you to leave," he said. "It'd probably be best not to tell our parents, but there's no reason you should have to go."

Jungkook looked even more confused. "But, I-"

"Deserve to enjoy the holidays with people who care about you," you finished for him. He looked at you, clearly shocked. "It sounded like you've felt so lonely. I could only imagine how you feel. Not fitting in with others like you and feeling like you shouldn't belong with people like us. But there's no reason you shouldn't be here. When was the last time you spent a holiday with someone before today?"

Jungkook was speechless for a minute before his expression softened. "Not since I died. I couldn't exactly go back to my family after that. I haven't seen them since and have always reminded myself since then that I don't belong."

"But you do," you insisted, taking a step toward him. "Just because you're different than us doesn't mean you can't belong."

"I could hurt you! Why aren't you afraid of me?”

“Because we know you wouldn’t hurt us,” Taehyung said. “If you wanted to, you would have a long time ago. And you wouldn’t have been so hesitant in coming here.”

“And you wouldn’t have admitted a secret that could have ruined our friendship just because you were concerned about my sister’s safety,” Jimin said. “Out of everything you’ve said today, there’s one main thing that I understand—you’re still the same exact Jungkook I’ve known for the past few years. None of this changes that.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of Jungkook’s eyes. “It should," he almost whispered.

“I can’t understand how you feel,” you said. "I couldn't even begin to try. But I think you're scared because you've been telling yourself that you don't belong anywhere for so long. You could belong here if you wanted to. Do you want to?"

His eyes met yours, tears now falling down his face. He took a moment to think before softly nodding. "I do," he admitted.

"Then you do," Jimin said, stepping up next to you to place a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "You don't have to leave. Not now, and not in the future."

"If I haven't abandoned you yet, you can expect I'm not ever going to," Taehyung added.

After a moment of silence between the four of you, Jimin gave Jungkook's shoulder another squeeze. "Tae, I think you and I should probably leave so these two can talk," he said.

Taehyung nodded. "Good idea." He gave you a knowing smile as he followed your brother out.

When the door closed once more, Jungkook was the first to talk. "You don't have to-"

"I like you too, Jungkook," you said.

He looked at you in surprise for a moment before saying, "Y/n, you know what I am now. You really shouldn't."

"I don't care." There wasn't an ounce of hesitation in your voice, and Jungkook didn't sense any change in your heartrate, assuring him that you were telling the truth. "When I heard you talking, I felt a lot of things. But fear wasn't one of them. Even when I saw your fangs and your eyes, I wasn't scared. Not one little bit. You're still Jungkook, my brother's best friend who I've had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time," you chuckled.

Jungkook's gaze on you had softened to something much more tender, a sparkle in his eyes that you were now realizing you were strangely familiar with. "Do you realize what that means though?" he asked. "A crush is one thing, but what if it becomes something more, Y/n? I'm not going to age with you. We couldn't stay together because before long, I'm going to look more like your son than a friend or boyfriend. And I'm for sure going to outlive you, unless someone does me in before then. Is that really something you want?"

"I think that's something that we should have the chance to decide together," you said. "If this continues to something more and we want to keep going with this then we can decide what we want to do from there. If we care about each other enough to make it worth it, or not. All I know is that right now, I really like you, Jungkook. And if you like me the same then I want to give this a shot. I trust you."

Jungkook felt like he was about to cry again. He had hope at one point soon after his death that he might get lucky to find people like Jimin and Taehyung, maybe even possibly someone like you, but he had quickly lost that hope. That feeling coming back, even in the smallest amount, was overwhelming and it made him want to go along with what you were saying.

Before he could let himself think too hard and talk himself out of it, he carefully nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "If you think you can handle being okay with making a decision like that in the future, then I trust you too."

The smile you graced him with was blinding, and it made all of his insecurities about the situation fade away. He managed to smile back at you, but only for just barely a moment before you placed your lips against his.

It was the first of many kisses that the two of you would share for many, many years to come.

If you’d like to donate to my Ko-fi, feel free! Absolutely no pressure though :)

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #thebtswritersclub #btswriterscollective #thebtsficarchive #btsbookclub #jungkook #jeon jungkook #vampire!jungkook #vampire au #christmas #thebtswritersclubsecretsanta

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doiedreams · 4 years

Text

A Cozy Christmas Eve // w.lc

Brought to you by the Walking in a Winter Wonderland collaboration hosted by @suh-insane and @neocitybynight

◈⇢ Synopsis: With only a very limited amount of time, you and bf!Lucas prepare to have your parents over for a Christmas Eve visit, but after all the stress, the day ends in a cozy evening of Christmas movies, hot cocoa, and cuddles

◈⇢ Prompt: “Put that cookie down. NOW!”

◈⇢ Genre: fluff ద

◈⇢ Pairing: reader x bf!lucas

◈⇢ Wc: 2.3k

◈⇢ Warnings: none

Lucas’s full attention is captured by the wintry white snowscape in his view. Bright-eyed and mouth agape, Lucas calls out to you. “Woah… Y/n, come look! It snowed so much last night.”

The excitement in his voice lures you out of your room, toothbrush still between your lips, as you see Lucas with his hands and nose pressed up against the cold glass of the window. You giggle seeing how his actions reflect that of an amazed child seeing snow for the first time. When you approach him, you tap his shoulder, silently requesting that he move out of the way. The moment you step in front of the window, the bright white view blinds you. Considering you woke up not too long ago, the radiance was harsh on your eyes, causing you to squint momentarily before fully being able to take in the view.

The pretty sight incites a muffled gasp from you. Blankets upon blankets of snow cover the ground, presenting little to no color contrast between it, and the grey wintery sky. The rooftops of the houses across from your home are also coated with snow, while their perimeters are draped with thin icicles varying in size. Color can only be found on the holiday decorations scattering the lawns of your neighbors’ homes or the occasional evergreen shrubs nearby. Besides that, it is a white winter indeed.

“It’s so pretty,” you say after taking your toothbrush out. “Okay, we have a long day ahead of us so let me finish getting ready and we can start cleaning up, alright?”

Lucas turns from the window to face you and says, “but it’s already clean.”

“Clean? Lucas, it’s so messy in here. Look around.”

He faces the room, not too disheveled, but surely not in its tidiest state. Magazines of holiday decor and Christmas meal recipes almost covered the entire glass coffee table. Some opened pages had brown ring stains on the wrinkly paper where a couple of hot cocoa mugs, now empty, had sat the night prior. Half of the throw blanket rests on the ground while the other half is slowly slipping off of the couch. Needless to say, it was a bit of a mess.

Turning back to you, he says, “We can clean this up easily. It'll take us… like, 20 minutes?”

Your eyes widened, wondering what makes him think the two of you could fully prepare your house for your parents’ visit in such a short amount of time. “That’s just impossible. There's a lot more to do than to tidy up this room. Plus, anytime I tell you we have to clean you get distracted in about five minutes and leave all the dirty work to me.”

“Do I?” Lucas asks as if this is something he's never noticed.

“You do, but not this time. It's gonna be a team effort and we're gonna get it done as soon as we can, alright?”

Lucas crosses his arms and lifts his chin as though he’s already completed the tasks he's meant to finish. “I’m at your service, m’lady. Where do you want me?”

Laughing at his newfound determination, you tell him, “Well, how about you start by clearing off that table while I finish getting ready.”

While still in his triumphant stance, he gives you a forceful nod before he goes to the table and picks up the empty mugs to place on the sink, and gets started with cleaning. Although you suspect his focus will only last for a little while, you appreciate the effort he’s putting in now. And hopefully, by the time you come back, some progress would be made.

“Ta-da!”

Upon entering the room, you’re met with a completely different atmosphere than before. The coffee table was no longer cluttered with papers and mugs, the sofa’s decorative pillows were placed comfortably at its corners, and Lucas even managed to turn on the fireplace which hadn’t worked in months. If you were to add a few more decorations, the room could’ve been featured in one of the holiday decor magazines he had set aside.

“Lucas- You did all of this?” you asked, gaping at the cleanliness of the room.

He breaks out of his jazz hands and nods. “Yes. I did.” The accomplished grin on his face made it clear that he was proud of his work.

“I’m impressed!” you say with a smile. You thank him for what he’s done and pull out your phone to check the time. “Okay. We have like a couple more hours before my parents start on their way. Oh, but it’s supposed to snow even harder by then...”

You look out the window, noting that the driveway is already covered in snow from last night’s snowfall. “Would you mind shoveling the snow out of the driveway while I clean the rest of the house?”

“I can do that,” Lucas replies while making his way to the door to get his coat.

“Perfect. While you do that, I’ll finish getting the rest of the place ready and I can start making cookies.”

He agrees and you part ways, leaving Lucas to conquer the heaps of snow while you make sure the house is in perfect order in time for the visit.

Once the rooms are all neat and tidy, you move to the kitchen and look for all the ingredients you’ll need to make a couple batches of tasty Christmas cookies. Humming and swaying to the Christmas classics playing in the background, you make the cookie dough, tasting small bits of it against your better judgment. You turn the oven on to let it preheat and take out metal cookie cutters of various holiday theme shapes including a Christmas tree, a candy cane, a gingerbread man, and a snowman. All of which would add a fun touch of festivity to your cookie batches.

While the cute shapes of dough undergo its transformation in the oven, you look out the window and catch sight of Lucas’ figure wrapped in his large, puffy, winter parka, waddling around in the snow like a penguin with his head hidden under the faux fur hood. From the way he shuffles the snow around his feet aimlessly, he seems to have lost his shovel. Seeing him in his own little world causes a giggle to rise from your chest until you become worried he’ll lose his footing and hit the ground due to the lack of friction underneath his sneakers. Perhaps you should have reminded him to put on his snow boots.

The thin high-pitched beep coming from behind you rouses you from your thoughts and you shift your attention back to the cookies in the oven that are now producing a sweet aroma filling up the kitchen. As soon as you open it, a warm sugary scent wafts from the heated compartment, reaching your nostrils. Placing the sheet of cookies on the countertop, you figure Lucas would want to help decorate them, so you let them cool until he gets back.

As you lean against the countertop, delving in the Christmas music and delicious fragrance consuming the room’s atmosphere, a gust of icy air enters and brushes against your leg, following the sound of the front door opening and closing. You hear Lucas sniff and groan once he comes in. You’re suddenly reminded of all the time and effort you put into cleaning the floor while he was gone and your eyes widen as you rush out of the kitchen.

“Lucas, wait! Did you-”

The squeak coming from Lucas’s wet shoes stops you mid-sentence and with the words leaving your mouth, you freeze. In front of you, Lucas is huffing warm air into his hands, oblivious to the small piles of snow at his feet and the trails of melted ice he’s tracked in. Letting your head fall into your hands, you groan, rubbing your temples as if to alleviate the stress that has just been added to your plate.

“The driveway’s all clear,” you hear Lucas say between sniffs. With a sigh, you shut your eyes and nod, approaching him to take off his coat for him and hang it up.

“Well, now I have to clean this up too,” you say as you let out yet another sigh.

Lucas’s mouth forms an ‘O’ shape upon realizing what he’s just done. You’re already rushing to find a rag to wipe up the mess.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I can help you out if you want,” he says, looking for a way to undo his mess.

Frustration evident in your tone, you say, “No, it’s fine. Move.”

You get on your knees beside his legs and hurriedly wipe the floor with a cloth, occasionally glancing at the clock which only builds your sense of urgency. Time is running out and this extra task is not ideal.

“Y/n,” Lucas starts. “Let me help.”

“I don’t need any,” you say as you finish wiping the floor.

As you try to walk past him, Lucas holds you by the shoulder and pulls you back into him. The tension in your muscles starts to melt away at his touch and you allow him to hold you against his body. The last thing you want to do is project your frustration onto the one person that makes you feel at peace through it all.

“It’ll be okay, we still have time,” he reassures you.

You know he’s trying to comfort you, and it’s working as always, but you know that in reality, you don’t have much time before your parents are on their way.

He kisses your cheek and says, “Now, what is that delicious smell?”

“Cookies.” You giggle at the bright smile on his face at the mention of the yummy Christmas treats. “Wanna decorate ‘em with me?” you ask. He’s already pulling you towards the kitchen before you can even finish the question.

“Okay! I think everything’s perfect.” You set the tray of freshly decorated sugar cookies on the table. You roam around the room listing off the tasks you’ve completed. “The bathrooms are clean, the kitchen is clean, the mirrors and windows are wiped down, the driveway is- Lucas!”

You snap your attention back at the boy with a star-shaped cookie in hand, held up to his opened mouth, ready to be eaten. Frozen, he peers over at you, caught in the act.

“Put that cookie down. NOW!”

Lucas slowly places the cookie back on the tray, and sighs softly before taking a seat at the table with his head hung low, as if he’s put himself in ‘time-out’.

Your attention is captured by the ring-tone coming from your cell phone.

“Oh my gosh, they must be on their way,” you say before picking up.

“Hi, my dear,” your mother’s familiar voice gives you a taste of home as soon as you hear it.

“Hi! Are you on your way?” you ask, hopeful.

“I hate to come bearing bad news, but it seems like we won’t be able to make it.”

A disappointed sigh leaves your lips as you think of all the work you’ve done to get the place ready for your parents’ visit. It would’ve been nice to see them again, especially in the holiday spirit, and enjoy quality time together. Your shoulders slouch as your mood drops listening to your mother explain that they’re snowed in for the night. They can’t come.

“They’re not coming?” Lucas asks once you hang up the phone.

You shake your head in response and slump into a chair at the table next to him. Sighing, you prop your elbows on the table, resting your head in your hands, and close your eyes, letting yourself enjoy a moment of calm. Your little moment is brought to an end when you feel a tickle at your bottom lip. Opening your eyes, you see an iced sugar cookie held up to your mouth.

“Taste it.” Your eyes shift upward to Lucas’s cheeky grin. You comply and take a bite out of the cookie. Eyelids fluttering shut in delight, you hum at the deliciousness of the cookie in your mouth. “Is it good?” he asks.

“Perfect,” you giggled.

He takes a bite of the cookie himself and says, “Let’s put on our pajamas,” with his mouth full. “Why? It’s not even late.”

Although the time indicates that it’s only around 5:30 pm, the darkness outside makes it seem a lot later than it really is.

“Looks like nighttime to me,” he says, pointing towards the window.

“Okay, I guess.” He takes you by the hand and pulls you up from your seat, ushering you towards the bedroom where you can get dressed in your matching fleece pajama sets. In the warmth of your pajamas, you and Lucas decide to make the very best out of this Christmas Eve. While Lucas turns on How the Grinch Stole Christmas, you make hot chocolate in the kitchen and pour yourselves a couple mugs. You top it off with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a candy cane leaning against the rim, adding a hint of festive cheer. Bringing the hot cocoa and tray of Christmas cookies, you join Lucas on the sofa, who didn’t bother to wait for you before starting the movie. Crystals of ice fall down the sky outside the window while the crackle and pop of the fireplace keeps you cozy inside. Lucas drapes a fleece blanket over your laps as the mugs of hot cocoa in your hands keep you warm. He wraps his arm around you, bringing you closer in, and places a sweet kiss on your cheek. Although you’d gone through so much stress during the day, to be able to comfortably relax in the warmth of Lucas’ embrace made it all worth it.

a/n: Merry Christmas! And to those that don’t celebrate it, much love regardless ♡

Proofread by: @hunjins @danishmiilk @crownily thank you guys so so much ♡

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justlookfrightened · 4 years

Text

Home Sweet Home

Prompt: house hunting

“Bits, did you have anything special planned for today?”

Jack sat at the island, the remains of his peanut butter toast and protein shake pushed to the side while he tapped at his laptop keyboard.

“Special? No,” Bitty said, staring at the coffee maker like he was willing it to brew faster. “I wanted to go to the market, and there’s a couple of new recipes I want to try out for my vlog. But nothing important. Why?”

Bitty arched an eyebrow at Jack.

“Now that you’re all sweaty from your run, did you want to go back to bed?”

“Tempting,” Jack said, “but --”

“But if you want to do that, you’re in charge of changing the sheets later,” Bitty said.

“Fine,” Jack said. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

“Okay?”

“You know my birthday’s next week,” Jack said.

“Of course,” Bitty said. “We’re having a party, remember? You’re going to grill, I’m doing desserts and sides, your parents are coming down … ”

“I know,” Jack said. “Remember when you were asking what I wanted for a gift?”

“DId you come up with something?” Bitty said. “Because I have been thinking on it, and I’m drawing a blank. When you want something, you usually buy it, and that makes gift-giving a little difficult.”

“I want a house.”

“What?”

“I want a house. We’ve had this condo for four years, and it’s nice, but I have four more years on my contract,” Jack said. “We’ll be here a while. And I think this is going to be home for us. Providence, I mean. So, yeah, I want a house.”

“Jack,” Bitty said, finally turning completely away from the coffee maker, “I can’t buy you a house. I mean, things are going pretty well for me, and the new book is out in a couple of months, but …”

“Of course you can,” Jack said. “We can afford a house.”

“You can afford a house,” Bitty said.

“We can,” Jack said. “Community property, remember? We share a bank account.”

“But that’s just the checking account,” Bitty said. “For like, groceries and utility bills. And sure, maybe I spend a little too much on clothes and baking supplies. And I know you can afford a house, but how is that a present from me to you?”

“Because I want you to do it with me?” Jack said. ”I want to pick a place out together, and to decorate it -- well, mostly for you to decorate it -- and I want it to be our home. I want there to be space for us to have guests, and for us maybe to have kids one day. I’m going to be thirty years old, Bits. I want to live like a grownup.”

Bitty looked pointedly around the condo, from the kitchen with its matching dish towels and oven mitts to the painting over the sofa and the plants in the corner.

“This … is not living like a grown-up?” Bitty said. “Going to bed at eleven and up by seven for a run, even on Sunday?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jack said. “I just thought that, maybe it’s time for some more space? We can get you a bigger kitchen.”

“Fine,” Bitty said. “But because it’s something you want. You are not buying me a house for your birthday. What did you want to do about it today? Because don’t we need to, like, find an agent and everything?”

“I guess,” Jack said. “Maybe once we know what we want? I found a few open houses we can check out. Look.”

Bitty pulled a stool closer and turned the laptop towards him. Jack watched his eyes as he read, looked at pictures, scrolled down and read and looked again.

“Jack, those houses are all over a million dollars,” Bitty finally said, looking a little pale.

“I know,” Jack said. “But they’re nice. And did you see the kitchen in the one on the water in Cranston?”

“The one that’s over $2 million?” Bitty said. “We could build a big house that’s half kitchen for half that much.”

Jack shrugged.

“Probably not in that location. It’s a quick commute to the arena and the training facility. But if you want to buy property to build something, we might have to go further out,” Jack said. “Would you rather do that?”

“Build a house?” Bitty said. “Jack, I don’t know the first thing about building a house, and neither do you.”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking we’d build it ourselves,” Jack said. “We’d hire someone. Unless you want to bake a house.”

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, we are not living in a gingerbread house.”

“But do you want to go to these open houses?” Jack said. “Get an idea of what we want and what’s available? For my birthday?”

Jack tried to do that thing Bitty did to him, where he looked up with huge, pleading eyes, but he was pretty sure he just looked like a demented seal instead of a cute puppy.

Bitty probably thought so too, but he laughed and said, “Fine. The farmer’s market opens in fifteen minutes. Let me go before all the good stuff is gone and then we can go look at houses.”

There must have been a lot of good stuff, because it was nearly noon by the time Bitty was back and had the shopping stowed. Then he had to shower and change. (“I need to look like a potential homebuyer, Jack, not a grocery shopper!” “What’s the difference?” Apparently, in Bitty’s mind, homebuyers dressed like they were going to casual office jobs. Except with khaki shorts instead of trousers because it was nearly 34 degrees outside.)

“Come on, Bits, I don’t want to be late!” Jack said.

“What, you’re afraid all the good houses will be gone?” Bitty asked. “I mean, is there seriously one house you have your heart set on? Because otherwise, I don’t think we have to worry. We’re just going to get an idea of what’s out there today, right?”

“Right,” Jack said.

As soon as they were in the car, he headed for Cranston. There were several places in that area that had open houses, including the place on the river. Two and a quarter million -- more than that even -- was a lot, more than Jack had ever spent on anything in his life, but he had the money. They had the money.

All it would take would be a call to his people. Well, to his lawyer, the one he counted on for everything except contract negotiations. Shelby would call his financial people and take care of everything.

The house was … a lot. Bitty did like the kitchen, especially the double oven and what looked like acres of counter space. There was an island with a breakfast bar where they could eat and where Jack could sit to watch Bitty bake, and look out the windows and over the deck to the water.

“My husband does video segments about baking and writes cookbooks,” Jack told Aila, the listing agent. “So the kitchen is really important.”

The master bedroom wasn’t huge, but neither he nor Bitty were the type to loll in bed all day. And there was a guest house where the parents could stay when they visited.

“The property can be sold without the guesthouse,” Aila said as she not-so-helpfully followed them from room to room. There were no other lookers at the moment, so it made sense, but Jack would have preferred a bit more privacy. That would have helped him sell Bitty on the place himself.

“No, if we bought it we’d want the guesthouse,” Jack assured her.

“Don’t you think it’s a little too … I dunno, grand? For us,” Bitty said, looking down from the second floor landing.

“My parents’ place is bigger,” Jack said. “You seem comfortable enough there.”

“Now we’re competing with a movie star and a hockey legend?” Bitty said. “We’ve never owned a house before.”

“Can we walk around outside?” Jack said, steering Bitty toward the French doors that led off the dining room.

“Of course,” Aila said. “You’ll notice the sophisticated multi-level outdoor living space!”

“What does that even mean?” Bitty muttered, before trudging across the deck and into the grass to look back at the house.

He came back to Jack and said, “Let’s go. This isn’t the place for us.”

“What?”

“Unless you were sure you wanted this house specifically?”

“No. But --”

“Then let’s keep looking,” Bitty said.

“It’s like you saw a ghost,” Jack said. “Is it haunted?”

“Might as well be,” Bitty said.

“What?”

“We can’t move here,” Bitty said. “It’s not big enough.”

“A four-bedroom five-bathroom house with an in-ground pool and separate coach house isn’t big enough?”

Jack knew he sounded incredulous. He was incredulous. The house Bitty’s parents lived in -- the house Bitty had lived in as a high school student -- had four bedrooms, sure, but it was about half the size of this place. Without the coach house. And it only had two bathrooms.

Besides, Bitty usually opted for practicality over ostentation. The only really expensive things he seemed to covet were kitchen appliances.

“All that building?” Bitty said. “On a lot that’s just over a half-acre? Where would we put the rink?”

“What rink?”

“The outdoor rink that you want to build in the backyard for little Johnny or Sally to learn to skate on,” Bitty said. “So they can skate and come in for lunch and go right back outside.”

“We don’t have to have a rink,” Jack said.

“No, we don’t have to,” Bitty said. “But when you talk about when you were little, you talk about skating with your dad all the time. And you get this little smile, like just thinking about it makes you happy.”

“Maybe our kids won’t even like skating,” Jack said.

“But you still will,” Bitty said. “So if you don’t absolutely love this place already, let’s move on.”

“But the kitchen is so great,” Jack said. “Did you see the breakfast bar?”

“We can remodel the kitchen in another house if we want to,” Bitty said. “But we can’t magically make more property here. Do you have other places to visit?”

“There’s a list,” Jack said.

From Cranston they headed south to Barrington, where Jack had seen a few open houses advertised. One house was too small (despite four bedrooms and three bathrooms) and one Bitty ruled out immediately (“I know it’s on the water and it’s beautiful, but $1.35 million for a place with no air conditioning?”). Bitty made the same complaint about an 1894 six-bedroom house on the market for just under a million, but turned down a house a hundred years newer (with central air) because it was part of a suburban development and didn’t have a big enough yard oir mature trees.

When they got home, Bitty started pulling out ingredients for a strawberry rhubarb pie.

“I thought you had some new recipes to try,” Jack said.

“I do,” Bitty said. “But right now seems like a good time for comfort food.”

“Can we make a list of what we want in a house?” Jack said. “What’s important and what’s negotiable?”

“We need space,” Bitty said. “A big yard for a rink. Even a smallish rink will take a lot of space.”

Jack wrote that down.

“It might be better to look further out, then,” he said.

“I’d also like to be close to the city,” Bitty said. “But maybe that’s not as important. I don’t want to build new, though. Not for a first house. My Aunt Judy and Uncle Bob built themselves a brand new home on a lake in Georgia, put in a home theater sound system to watch movies in the great room, and it turned out you could hear it better in the bedrooms upstairs than sitting in front of the TV. I don’t want to make mistakes like that.”

They could probably find and hire a better architect -- and a sound engineer, if it came to designing a home theater -- than Bitty’s Aunt Judy, but Jack kept that thought to himself. If Bitty didn’t want to supervise the construction of a house, Jack wasn’t about to make him, and there was no way Jack could do it during the season.

“It needs to have a good kitchen,” Jack said instead. “I mean, we can get new appliances and do some remodeling, but there has to be enough space for you to work and for us to eat.”

“For you to distract me, you mean,” Bitty said, but he looked fond, and didn’t object, so Jack added it to the list.

“Good schools,” Jack said. “A patio or deck, or at least room for one, and space for a decent gym. And mature trees.”

Bitty nodded at all of that, then said, “I think maybe we should set a budget, then you can talk to Shelby about how we pay for it? And who to work with as a buyer’s agent?”

“You thought two and a half million was too much,” Jack said.

“Unless the house cleans itself and shovels its own snow in the winter,” Bitty said.

“A million and a half?” Jack said. “As a target?”

Bitty shook his head like he was exasperated, but then he grinned.

“It’s your money,” he said.

“No, it’s our money,” Jack said.

The next day, while Bitty was on calls about the next cookbook, Jack called Shelby.

“Bitty and I want to buy a house,” he said. “But we need help.”

“Okay,” Shelby said. “Help how?”

“Help with finding an agent, knowing what questions to ask, how to do the money part of it,” Jack said. “I mean, I think we can afford most places, but I don’t know the mechanics of it.”

“We can help with that,” Shelby said. “Let me make some calls and set you up with a buyer’s agent. They can help with the search, and getting a home inspection and all that. And I’ll get the financial team together to run some numbers. It might make more sense, tax-wise, to get a mortgage, or you might find a seller who will give you a discount for cash. Do you have an idea about the budget you’re looking at?”

“Well, Bits and I went out to a few open houses yesterday,” Jack said.

“You did?” Shelby said. “Oh, my gosh. The agents must have been falling all over themselves. If they recognized you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jack shrugged. Maybe that was why the agents followed them around so much.

“The most expensive place was listed at $2.35 mil,” Jack said. “I thought it was pretty nice, but Bitty thought it was too much.”

“Too much money? Too much house?” Shelby asked. “Do you remember the address?”

“Yeah,” Jack said, and read the address off his phone. “Too much money, yes, and he said it was a bit too grand. But he also thought the property was too small. He seems to think we need room to put in an outdoor rink in the winter.”

“He wants a rink?”

“He thinks I want a rink.”

“Do you?” Shelby asked.

“It would be nice,” Jack said. “I guess. Especially if we ever have kids. But it’s not a deal-breaker for me.”

“What is it that you want?”

“I want Bits to have a great kitchen,” Jack said. “But Bitty pointed out that we can remodel the kitchen, as long as there’s room.”

“Sounds like you two spent some time talking about this,” Shelby said.

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“Okay, let me look for a buyer’s agent,” she said. “I can have some names to you tomorrow. And Jack, congratulations. I know this is a big step.”

Things moved quickly after that. Shelby provided a list of possible agents, along with her recommendation, whom Bitty and Jack agreed to hire. By the Thursday of that week, they had a meeting with the agent, Melissa Field.

“It was so nice of you to come to us,” Bitty said, seating Melissa in the dining room. “Can I get you coffee? Tea? Pie?”

“Shelby said your pie is not to be missed,” Melissa said. “So yes, please. Coffee, too, if it’s not any trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” Bitty said. “I have a traditional cherry pie and a ginger peach.”

“Ooh, ginger peach,” Melissa said.

“Good choice.”

Jack took a seat as Bitty disappeared into the kitchen.

“Did I pick right?” Melissa asked.

“They’re both great,” Jack said. “Though I think I prefer the cherry, so yeah, perfect choice. More cherry for me.”

“Can you tell me about why you decided now was the time to buy a house?” Melissa asked.

“It’s not just my decision,” Jack said. “It’s Bitty’s too. But I am turning 30 next week, and my contract will keep us here for at least the next few years, and it seemed like time to put down some roots.”

Melissa nodded.

“Do you want to wait for Eric to talk about what you’re looking for?” she asked.

“That would be best,” Jack said.

Bitty bustled in and out, first bringing coffee with cream and sugar, then tea for Jack, then three slices of pie: two ginger peach and a sliver of cherry for Jack.

Melissa took them through a very long checklist of what they wanted, what they didn’t want and what they just didn’t care about. Baseboard heat? Built in shelves? Gas fireplaces?

“But air conditioning is important,” Bitty said.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s a buyer’s market, especially just now with school about to start, and there are several properties for sale that might fit the bill. Let me send you information tomorrow and we can make maybe two or three appointments for the weekend. If we have to, we can do the same thing next week, and the week after, until you’re comfortable making a choice.”

“Sounds good,” Jack said.

On Saturday, Melissa had three appointments set up. The first was an 1890 Victorian in Warwick, with five bedrooms and three and half bathrooms and more than two acres of property.

It had been updated inside, Melissa said as she led the way inside, with central air and new plumbing and electrical systems.

Bitty let out a bark of laughter as soon as they entered the living room.

“Dog people, I guess?” he said, nodding at the oil portrait of the German shepherd over the fireplace.

But he wasn’t laughing at the open kitchen, or the laundry room/mud room/butler’s pantry, which had an extra fridge and stove. It was also well within the budget at $1.2 million.

Next was a house in North Smithfield with four bedrooms and six bathrooms, which seemed disproportionate to Jack. But the kitchen was spacious, as was the yard, and it already had a play set, which made Jack imagine what it would be like with kids. Listed at just over a million dollars, the price was no obstacle,but it didn’t have as much character as the first one.

“I’ve saved the best for last,” Melissa said, driving them toward Lincoln. “This is the biggest of the three, with two separate in-law units, an adjoining workshop or studio that you can use for a gym, an in-ground pool, six-car garage and more than four acres.”

The main house, whose oldest parts dated to 1812, was gorgeous, with a stone exterior and clean lines. But the adjoining garage and workshop didn’t seem to match the aesthetic. Then again, what did Jack know about aesthetics?

Bitty was taken with the open land, Jack could see.

The inside of the house was also good, until Jack saw the kitchen. How could a six-bedroom house have a galley-style kitchen?

Jack knew Bitty was disappointed in the kitchen as well, but he didn’t say so in front of Melissa.

“Any thoughts?” Melissa asked.

“Let us talk for a while,” Jack said. “Can I call you this evening? Or tomorrow. I know it’s Sunday.”

“Either is fine,” Melissa said, dropping them at the condo building.

“Come on, bud,” Jack said, heading for Bitty’s favorite diner instead of going upstairs. “Let’s talk about it over food.”

They settled into the booth, ordered and waited for their meals before getting down to business.

“It has to be the last one,” Bitty said, after inhaling half of his grilled cheese. “It’s the biggest, and has the most property, and it has plenty of room for people to stay, and for a gym, too. And it wasn’t any more expensive. Less than the one in Warwick.”

“But the kitchen is small,” Jack said, pulling the toothpick out of his turkey club.

“Maybe we could add on?” Bitty said. “Or not. The appliances are good. I liked the double oven.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said. “It’s in the old part of the house, so I’m not sure an addition would work. What about the one in Smithfield?”

“It ticked all the boxes” Bitty acknowledged. “But didn’t love it. I can’t really say why. Too boxy, maybe?

Jack nodded in acknowledgement, chewed and swallowed. “That leaves the one in Warwick.”

“With Rin Tin Tin?” Bitty said.

“We don’t have to keep the portrait,” Jack said.

“It only had a one-car, detached garage,” Bitty said.

“That would probably be easier to expand than the kitchen,” Jack said.

“Or not,” Bitty said. “You don’t know that.”

“I didn’t really like that whole six-car garage thing in Lincoln,” Jack said. “It’s basically attached to the house, but it’s like a big shed. We could do so much better expanding the garage on the one in Warwick. And it has a view of the water.”

“From the third floor,” Bitty said. “How’re those knees holding up, Mr. NHL Player?”

“Fine,” Jack said, a little stiffly. “What do you have against the house in Warwick? You liked it when we saw it, especially the butler’s pantry and laundry room.”

“Nothing,” Bitty said. “Well, besides the dog picture. Could you imagine that room with Lardo’s painting? But we would need a bigger garage, at the very least.”

“I really don’t think that would be a problem,” Jack said. “It’s old, but it’s not landmarked or anything and there’s plenty of room. And it’s not far from Marty and his family. Why are you so set on the one in Lincoln?”

“It seems like a better deal,” Bitty said. “More space -- bigger lot, bigger house, more bedrooms -- for less money. You shouldn’t turn that down just so I have a bigger kitchen to mess up.”

Jack dragged the last of Bitty’s fries through a dollop of mayonnaise.

“I still don’t understand how you like that,” Bitty said.

“It reminds me of home,” Jack said. “And that’s what it is about the kitchen. For me, home is the place where I sit and watch you bake, and eat what you cook, and listen to you go on about butter and shortening and a thousand other things. If I can’t do that, the house won’t be home, no matter how many cars will fit in the garage.

“I want that, and if we do end up with kids, I want there to be room for them to sit in the kitchen and have a snack after school, and do their homework, and talk to us. Remember the way everyone gravitated to the kitchen in the Haus? It wasn’t like that before you got there, but I want it to be like that.”

“So you like the million-dollar house in Warwick because it has the potential to be more like the falling-down frat house we lived in in college?”

“Yes,” Jack said.

“Then let’s buy that one,” Bitty said.

“You’re sure you don’t want to see more?” Jack said.

“Do you?” Bitty said. “I do like that house, and I loved the view from the kitchen. As long as it passes the inspection and all that.”

“Then let’s do it,” Jack said. “I’ll call Melissa when we get home.”

On Monday, Jack woke up to a bouncy Bitty who was already tying his running shoes.

“Coming with, bud?”

“Yep,” Bitty said. “It’s your birthday. And I intend to follow you into the shower when we get back. Fair warning.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

Bitty laughed, then said, “You have to pick up your parents after lunch, so we have to take advantage of our opportunities.”

The run was fine, the shower was better, and the post-shower romp in the bed was best of all.

“Is it weird that I’m thinking about how this is the last birthday we’ll celebrate here?” Bitty said, snuggling up to Jack afterwards. “We’ve had some good ones.”

“This is already a good one,” Jack said. “At least from my point of view.”

“Hush. I have to get up to start getting things ready. Your parents land in two hours, so you don’t have that much time either, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack had groaned and stood up, ready for another shower, when his phone rang.

“Jack? This is Melissa. I have good news,” she said. “The owners accepted your offer, at least verbally. Well, of course they did. You offered what they were asking. But I’m going to work with Shelby to draw up a contract and we should be looking at closing before your season starts.”

“Wow,” Jack said. “That’s great.”

He looked around the bedroom with a sudden rush of nostalgia. The new bedroom in the new house would be good too, he told himself.

“What is it?” Bitty said, rubbing at his hair with a towel as he came out of the bathroom. “Everything okay?”

“They accepted our offer,” Jack said. “They’ll draw up the contract and we can close in a few weeks.”

“That is great,” Bitty said. “Even if the change is … a little disconcerting?”

“It’ll be fine,” Jack said. “We’ll do it together.”

That evening, after steaks and portobello mushrooms were grilled, and the guests stuffed themselves with salads and homemade bread and three kinds of pie, Jack stood and tapped his wine glass.

“Everyone, I have an announcement,” he said.

“But he already married Bitty,” Tater whispered to Shitty. “You think they have a baby coming?”

Shitty shrugged. “I dunno,” he said.

Jack could hear every word because Tater’s whisper … wasn’t.

“Not a baby,” he said. “But we are putting down roots. Bits and I are buying a house. Our offer was accepted today.”

His parents hugged him, and Bitty pulled out his phone to show off pictures.

“Look at that portrait of the dog, Lardo,” Bitty said. “Can we commission something else to go there?”

@jackzimmermannturns30

#jack zimmermann turns 30 #zimbits #omgcheckplease #omg check please #my fic

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trashyswitch · 5 years

Text

Gingerbread Heros

Chase Brody discovers that Jackieboy Man has a soft spot for gingerbread cookies...a soft spot that turns into playfully childish behaviour!

As Chase let’s the man help with the baking and decorating, Chase takes advantage of the rare, Christmas-y occasion.

Chase was checking pantry by pantry, with the recipe in hand, for the ingredients on his list. So far, he had found the flour, the baking powder, ground cinnamon, margarine, brown sugar, an egg, and the vanilla extract out on the counter with a bowl nearby. Now was the part he dreaded: the shopping...

Chase wrote a list of what he needed to complete the recipe: -ground ginger -ground nutmeg -ground cloves -molasses

He folded it, put it in his pocket, and started to put on his coat.

“Hey Chase!” Someone cheered behind him. Chase turned around, to see a sweaty Jackie behind him.

“Hey Jackie!” Chase greeted.

“You going out?” Jackie asked.

Chase looked down at his coat. “Does it look like it?” He replied in a teasing tone.

Jackie rolled his eyes. “You got a point...where are you going?” Jackie asked.

“Shopping. I’m gonna make some gingerbread cookies, and I’m missing a few things.” Chase replied.

“Oooh! Gingerbread cookies? I’m down for that! Can I join?” Jackie asked.

Chase lowered his eyebrows slightly and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not that exciting. Not yet, anyway.” Chase warned as he put his hat on. “But if you really want to, you can co-“

“YES! GINGERBREAD COOKIES!” Jackie shouted, throwing his fists in the air and flying in circles excitedly.

Chase smiled and chuckled at the childish behaviour. “You coming?” Chase asked.

“Oh ya! Coming!” Jackie replied quickly, before flying into his room to change.

“There’s a ground, perfectly renovated and laminated for your feet you know!” Chase yelled with a big smile, towards the room.

“OH SHUT UP!” Jackie shouted back as he put his other foot into the correct pant leg. Chase let out a short laugh as he waited for the superhero to get dressed for going out. Chase put his ankle boots on and tied the laces.

“Ready!” Jackie declared, fully dressed in his coat, boots, hat and mitts. Though, there was something still on his face...

“Uh...you have the mask on your face still, you know that right?” Chase pointed out. Jackie’s smile dropped as his hand felt the felt mask around his face.

“Oops...” Jackie mumbled as he pulled the mask off his face.

“Come on, you nut job.” Chase said.

Jackie followed Chase out the door, and closed it. Locking the door, he removed the key, put it in his pocket, and speed-walked past Chase. He opened the car door and held it open.

“Ladies first.” Jackie said politely.

“Oh, shove it, Irish asshole.” Chase shot back, with a teasy smile.

Jackie gasped, placing a hand onto his chest. “How dare you? You know what? Since women are sO iNdEpEnDeNt, You can close your own door.” Jackie replied with a smirk, before letting go of the door and walking over to the passenger door. Chase rolled his eyes. His smile got wider as he reached out and closed his door.

A few minutes past before the duo reached the local grocery store. They got out of the car, grabbed a grocery basket and went to the spices area.

“Alright. We need ground ginger, ground nutmeg, and ground cloves.” Chase explained. Jackie nodded, and looked around at the many containers and bags of spices. Pretty soon, Jackie’s eyes fell onto the ground cloves.

“Found the ground cloves!” Jackie cheered.

“Awesome! I already found the ground nutmeg.” Chase replied. Chase took one look up, and came across a bag of ground ginger! He grabbed it from the shelf, and placed both spices into the basket.

Next, the duo were off to the baking section. Jackie immediately got distracted by the different things offered there, while Chase focused on what he needed: vanilla extract. He looked around, grabbed the little bottle of vanilla extract off the shelf and lightly threw it into the basket.

“Chase! They have different colored frosting!” Jackie exclaimed, bouncing around and pointing at the tubes of frosting on the shelf. “Red, blue, orange, GREEN?! CHASE! THEY HAVE GREEN!” Jackie exclaimed excitedly, grabbing one of every frosting tube colour and carrying it in his arms.

Chase chuckled and shook his head.

“We don’t need every colour, do we?” Chase asked the childish superhero.

“Yes we do! Gingerbread men should be decorated with all the colours, so they can look their absolute best!” Jackie argued.

Chase sighed with an amused smile. “Could we include ‘gingerbread women’ to the mix, then?” Chase asked, attempting to compromise.

Jackie sprinted up to the man, and dropped all the tubes of frosting into the basket. “Of course! And gingerbread children?” Jackie asked, running up to the selection of cookie cutters and grabbing a smaller gingerbread man cookie cutter off the shelf.

“Yup. And maybe...” Chase trailed off, walking over to the selection, and grabbing a collection of Avengers* cookie cutters. “...Some superhero cookies as well?” Chase offered.

Jackie’s jaw dropped, as the little cookie cutter fell out of his hand and onto the floor.

“THEY HAVE THESE?! NO WAY!” Jackie exclaimed, grabbing the package and spinning with it in his arms. Chase pulled out his phone to record the reaction.

“YES! Avengers* cookies! And we should make sure to get white! We need white for Captain America’s Shield, Thor’s thunder, and Iron Man’s eyes, right?!” Jackie asked excitedly.

“Yup. Grab whatever you want.” Chase replied.

“YAAAASSSS!” Jackie shouted, jumping up and down and clapping his hands in the middle of the store aisle. He sprinted up to Chase and gave him a big squeeze, before grabbing the rest of the colours he needed for the cookies.

Though the trip to the store lasted a little longer than expected, it was definitely worth every second. Jackie unloaded the groceries and placed the new ingredients in the previous pile, while Jackie pulled out a pair of scissors and practically destroyed the cardboard package.

“Slow down there, speedy Sonic! We still need to make the gingerbread!” Chase warned.

“Oh! Right!” Jackie reacted, putting the cookie cutters down and joining Chase.

Chase pulled the recipe out of a binder, and placed it onto a wooden stand.

“Step 1: Sift together the flour, baking powder, ginger, nutmeg, cloves, and cinnamon; set aside.” Chase read aloud.

“Okay.” Jackie replied, separating the dry ingredients from the wet ingredients. Chase grabbed the plastic measuring cups and the teaspoons out of the drawer, and placed them aside.

Chase got started on the first ingredient: 6 cups all-purpose flour. He grabbed the cup sized measuring cup, opened the big bag of flour, and dipped the cup into the bag. He used his finger to flatten out the top, and dumped it into the bowl. Chase repeated this 5 more times, and placed the measuring cup aside.

Next, Chase grabbed the tablespoon cup, and the baking powder. He put the cup into the baking powder, grabbed the right amount, and placed it into the bowl.

“Done.” Chase said.

To end it off, Jackie put the tablespoon of ground ginger, and the teaspoons of ground cloves, ground nutmeg, and ground cinnamon into the bowl. Grabbing the whisk, he sifted the dry ingredients together and placed it aside.

“I’ll get the butter melted!” Jackie declared, grabbing the butter and placing it into the microwave.

“Thanks! ‘In a medium bowl, mix together the butter, molasses, brown sugar, water, egg, and vanilla extract until smooth. Gradually stir in the dry ingredients, until they are completely absorbed.’ Sounds easy enough.” Chase said.

Chase grabbed the beater bowl and the correct steel measuring cup, and placed the needed items in. Next, he cracked the egg into the bowl, and threw the egg into the trash. While Chase washed his hands, Jackie put the vanilla extract into the bowl and placed the bowl into the beater.

After drying his hands with a towel, he locked the beater head in, and turned the beater on.

Jackie pulled out his phone, turned on Slo-mo and recorded a video of the beater beating the gingerbread mix. He continued the recording for a few more seconds, before ending it.

“Hey Chase! Look at this!” Jackie said, turning the video on and showing his friend.

“That’s pretty cool!” Chase reacted.

While he was waiting, Jackie sprinkled some flour onto the counter and placed the rolling pin and the cookie cutters nearby.

Soon, the beater was finished mixing the batter. Chase turned the beater off, pulled the dough out of the bowl and laid it on the powdered counter. Chase split the dough into 3 pieces, placed the other 2 pieces aside and started rolling out the first piece.

“The trick for rolling out gingerbread dough, is you want the dough as flat and level as possible, so the cookies are level.” Chase explained.

“Huh...okay.” Jackie reacted, watching the man flatten the dough with his hands and the rolling pin.

After a few more minutes, the dough was level enough for the cookie cutters. So, Jackie grabbed the Captain America cookie cutter, and pushed it down into the dough. While Jackie was shaping the cookies, Chase ripped off a couple pieces of parchment paper, and placed them onto the baking pans.

“Alright. You can place the cookies onto the pans when you are ready.” Chase said to Jackie, who had most of the dough covered with every single cookie cutter in the house.

“Yay! Avengers cookies!” Jackie exclaimed before wiggling the cookie cutter, picking it up and slowly taking the mould out of the plastic cutter. After another couple seconds, the mould had fallen onto the parchment paper with a short crinkle sound, and Jackie moved onto the rest of the cut out cookies.

It took a while...but soon, the duo had two batches of cookies ready for the oven. As soon as the oven made the familiar beeping noise, Chase put the oven mitts on, put the batches of cookies onto the middle rack, and closed the oven.

‘10:00’ Chase types onto the oven, before celebrating by throwing both fists in the air.

“We’re done!” Jackie yelled excitedly.

“Not quite. The cookies are done, but we still need to wait for them to finish. Then, comes the fun part!” Chase replied.

“Wait- making the gingerbread wasn’t fun for you?” Jackie asked, in a curious, but pity tone of voice.

Chase turned around. “Yes! Making the cookies was fun. But decorating is a lot more fun.” Chase clarified.

“Oooh...” Jackie replied.

While they waited, Chase and Jackie played a game of Uno. They managed to do almost 6 rounds, with Jackie winning 3 and Chase winning 2. Now, you may think ‘That’s odd...who would’ve won the last game?’ Well...that answer remained unclear, for the stove timer ended in the middle of their game, and the gust of wind from getting up and sprinting had thrown the cards absolutely everywhere...

Chase ran to the stove, turned off the timer, pulled the oven gloves on and opened the oven door. After the heat wave hit and faded, Chase eyed up the cookies eagerly. Jackie, who was waiting behind him, was clapping his hands in excitement and anticipation.

They were ready. Chase pulled the baking pan out of the oven and placed them onto the stove. After putting all the cookies onto the cooling racks, they placed the pans and spatulas onto the stovetop to cool down.

Next, Chase grabbed the new icing tubes and started removing the lids. Jackie went to the baking drawer, and found a couple more colours: grey and purple. They took the time to clean up the flour and the cookie cutters, and put the bowls under some hot water to sit.

Once the gingerbread was cooled enough, the two bakers got to work!

Jackie immediately got started on the Captain America cookie. He spun the red and white icing in circles, and carefully drew a star in the middle. Lastly, he filled in the spaces outside the star with blue, and placed it onto an empty plate.

Meanwhile, Chase had started working on the Iron Man cookie. He had already finished the red parts of the helmet, and comfortably gripped the yellow tube. As the icing came out of the tube, Chase controlled the icing as it covered the blank part of the helmet. In a minute or so, Chase removed the yellow tube, eyeing up the finished Iron Man helmet cookie.

The two adults continued to cover the cookies in their respectful colours. Jackie started sneaking bits of icing into his mouth before putting them down, and Chase had started looking up the avengers logos to get the cookies as accurate as possible.

Before they knew it, all the cookies were finished. Jackie and Chase lifted their fist in celebration as they eyed up their work. The cookies turned out better than they expected! They had a Hulk cookie, a Captain America cookie, a Spider-Man cookie, an Iron Man cookie, even a Thor Mjolnir cookie! There were a few gingerbread men, a few gingerbread ‘woman’, a couple gingerbread kids, and a couple gingerbread trees to end it off. All of the gingerbread cookies were laid flat onto 2 big plates, free for the icing to harden and for their roommates to grab and go whenever they want.

“You want one?” Chase asked.

“Wait, really?!” Jackie reacted, clapping his fists together with a big, suspenseful smile on his face.

“Well, ya! Feel free to grab one! We made them!” Chase clarified.

Jackie threw his fists in the air. “YES!” He shouted, before grabbing the Captain America cookie and taking a big bite. Upon actually tasting it, Jackie’s entire body practically melted! It was SO GOOD! One of the best gingerbread cookies he’s ever tasted!

Chase chuckled as he watched. “Is it good?” Chase asked.

“Mm hmm!” Jackie replied, giving him a thumbs up with his free hand.

Chase decided to grab one of his own. He took a bite of the Black Panther cookie, and lifted his eyebrows in happiness and surprise: It was really good! Like, not only actually edible, but almost addicting! After finishing the first cookie, Chase was ridiculously tempted to have another one. But, he pushed his temptation aside and focused on cleaning up the icing tubes.

He put the lids onto a few of the tubes, and put them away. When turning around to face the tubes, he put a few more of the lids onto them. But after putting the lids on, he noticed that there was an extra lid. Curious, Chase looked up, to see Jackie holding the red tube of icing, squeezing it into his mouth. Chase sighed, rubbed his nose and shook his head with a smile.

“Give me the tube please.” Chase ordered. Jackie closed his mouth, leading to some red icing getting onto his lips. Jackie’s mouth twisted into a nervous grin, as he scratched his head and slowly backed away.

“Give it! Give it here!” Chase ordered, holding his hand out. Jackie took off sprinting, giggling as he ran away with the tube of icing. Chase followed suit, creating a playful chase scene. Jackie jumped over all the furniture in front of him, and even flew over the table to get away from him.

“HEY! That’s cheating!” Chase accused. Jackie laughed at the claim, and spun around the sofa. Jackie ran for the coffee table, and jumped. He slid across it Steve Urkel style, and tried to land on his feet. But, he didn’t anticipate the Uno cards being right where they were before: on the ground. So, he ended up stepping on the Uno cards. Quickly, he jumped up and flew, but his back hit the low roof and knocked him right back down. He fell onto the back of the couch, and slid right behind the couch.

Chase slowed to a walking pace, walking over to the space behind the couch. He climbed up onto the couch cushions, and eyed up Jackie, who had gotten himself stuck behind the couch.

“Peek a boo!” Chase cooed. Jackie gulped and held the tube in his hand tightly. “You gonna give me the icing?” Chase asked. Jackie’s eyes frowned, before a smile showed up on his lips. He shook his head confidently. Chase’s smile turned into a mischievous smirk, as he left the spot for a minute. He picked up a nearby reaching tool, and the long Swiffer* duster. Walking back to the couch, he climbed onto the cushions, looked back behind the couch, and showed the superhero the items.

“What are those for?” Jackie asked, pointing at them.

“To do this!” Chase replied. He lowered the reaching tool down to the red hero, and tried to grab the tube. However, Jackie was moving the tube left and right, to dodge the item. Anticipating it wouldn’t work, Chase moved the reaching tool towards his shirt, grabbed the bottom of the shirt, and slowly lifted it. Jackie’s one eyebrow raised, curious to what he was gonna do.

Next, Jackie lowered the yellow feather duster down and fluttered it back and forth on his bare belly.

“Hehehehey! Dohohon’t you dahahahare!” Jackie laughed, twisting to the side and curling into a ball.

“Oh, I dare! I dare to even touch those reeeeaally ticklish feet! It’s a shame you baked those cookies in your bare feet!” Chase teased, dragging the feather duster down to his bare feet. As soon as the duster went under his feet, Jackie’s giggling got louder.

“EEEEEEKK! Hahahahahaha! Thahahahahat tihihihihickles!” Jackie said through his laughter, shaking his head as he laughed.

“It DOES?! REALLY?! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! HOW COULD THIS-” Chase mocked, stopping mid sentence to flutter the feather duster even more. “-TICKLE?!” Chase ended sarcastically with a smile. Jackie’s face turned slightly red as his laughter turned to cackles. “Perhaps someone’s feet are ticklish? Is THAT it? Oh! What an amazing discovery! I shall take advantage of this right away!” Chase exclaimed sarcastically. He lifted the feather duster away from the feet, removed the removable duster to reveal the clamps underneath, and lowered the extendable stock down to his feet again. Next, he used the clamps on the end of the stick, to scratch the inner arch and soles of his feet.

Jackie’s eyes widened as he threw his head back. “OH GAHAHAHAD! NOHOHOHOHOHO! AAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jackie bursted out immediately, squirming frantically.

“You gonna surrender the icing yet?” Chase asked. Jackie attempted to glare at the man, but failed to thanks to his laughter taking over every part of his face.

“NEHEHEHEHEVER!” Jackie yelled through his laughter.

“Very well.” Chase said, shrugging his shoulders, and removed the duster. He pulled the feather duster back to himself, put the feather duster onto the clamps once again, and reached the feather down. Suddenly, Chase shoved the feather duster into Jackie’s face and used the reaching tool to poke and prod at Jackie’s sides and stomach.

“AAAH! WAHAHA! WAIT! DOHOHON’T! NOT THERE! OH GEEZ- BAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jackie yelled. His voice was jumping up and down as he reacted to each and every poke and prod from the clamp tool.

Then, to end it off, Chase shoved his tool into the right side, and slightly clamped down, let go, clamped down, let go, and repeated these actions to squeeze his ticklish side.

Jackie’s wise smile grew bigger as his arms flailed just about everywhere, with the tube in his right hand as it flailed. In the middle of his flailing, he dropped the tube of icing onto the ground beside him.

Chase removed the reaching tool, picked up the tube and lifted it away, along with the feather duster.

“Thank you.” Chase said, before putting the lid on the tube and getting off the couch to put it away.

Jackie stayed behind the couch for a few minutes longer, before flying himself up and back into the kitchen.

“Feeling better?” Chase asked, with a smile.

“You suck man.” Jackie replied.

Chase looked up at Jackie, and let out a sudden laugh. “What?” Jackie asked.

“You still have icing on your face! It looks like you’re wearing crappy lipstick!” Chase exclaimed, pointing at Jackie’s lips. Jackie’s eyes widened as he wiped his ‘lipstick’ off his mouth with his sleeve.

“Merry Christmas, Santa.” Chase said as he walked by the superhero and put something in his hand. Jackie looked down at his hand, rolled his eyes and smiling.

“Har dee har har.” Jackie said back, before twisting the lid off the tube of white icing. He put some icing onto his hand, and spread it onto his face.

“HEY CHASE! LOOK!” Jackie yelled. Chase turned around, and bursted out laughing at the silly sight. Jackie had white icing spread onto his chin and upper lip, to imitate a white moustache and beard.

“MERRY NATIONAL BURGLAR DAY! THE DAY WHERE SANTA GETS PRAISED FOR YEARLY MISCONDUCT!” Jackie yelled.

Chase and Jackie laughed at his remark. He wasn’t wrong. The Santa Present thing was a way of teaching kids ‘slave labor, talking children and breaking into their houses to give them gifts is perfectly okay!’. But, that was just adult logic. Kids don’t fully understand any of that Law and Order stuff, and care more for the idea that a big man dressed in red will give them whatever toys they want. Kids, man! You love ‘em! Even the adult-sized ones!

#christmas #ticklefic #lee!jackie #ler!chase #childish jackie

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my-52-weeks-with-christie · 5 years

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(The cookies in the picture are garam-masala chocolate gingerbread cookies - I use a different recipe than the one Nancy Atherton put in her book because it required nuts and I'm allergic!)

Aunt Dimity & the Heart of Gold - Nancy Atherton

Did you ever wonder how Miss Marple honed her investigative abilities? Or in fact, how she remained so sharp in between each case?

I believe she kept her wits keen through continual practise. Miss Marple not only investigated the occasional murder that crosses her path - but all the little mysteries that popped up in her village of St. Mary Mead as well.

Now you shouldn't confuse the word little with unimportant.

As Miss Marple's learned the small mysteries (and therefore their solutions) are often analogous to the bigger mysteries, like murder and blackmail.

Which I think explains how Miss Marple was able to solve Colonel Protheroe murder in her first full-length mystery, Murder At The Vicarage. She'd already had decades worth of parallels to draw from and years of practice finding answers to prickly questions.

Now you might be wondering why on earth I am talking about Miss Marple in a review for an Aunt Dimity mystery.

The answer is this: Lori Sheperd (our sleuth), in many ways, reminds me of Miss Marple.

Go with me for a minute here.

Married with three children, an American and decades younger than the Grand Dame herself - I know superficially, Lori doesn't appear to resemble Miss Marple in the slightest. However, if you take a closer look at their traits, striking similarities start popping out of the text.

Both women are fixtures in their community, volunteer their time, help their friends, and enjoy a good chat with their neighbors.

This "chatting" is where we find one of the most significant similarities between these two extraordinary women - their marked partiality to obtaining and occasionally disseminating village gossip. This "newsgathering" allows them both to acquire a richer view of the villages in which they reside and a better understanding of human nature - which is essential in solving mysteries.

The other important trait Lori shares with Miss Marple is her love of solving little mysteries. Any curious puzzle that pops up in Finch - Lori wants to solve it. From a quilting bee that ends with a revelation of a widow's curse to a mysterious wishing well - very little can stop Lori from pursuing the truth.

And by keeping this murderless mystery series, Nancy Atherton has successfully avoided the Cabot Cove Syndrom which oftentimes plagues series of this length (24 books and counting). Meaning? We aren't left wondering why anyone would live in the small village of Finch if people keep getting shot, stabbed, poisoned or garrotted in it.

Similarly, Agatha Christie was able to neatly sidestep this Syndrome by only penning twelve full-length titles and of those she set a fair few of those outside the borders of St. Mary Mead. (Atherton's done this as well only her mysteries are set outside Finch - though wouldn't it be fun if Lori visited St. Mary Mead? Or is that to on the nose you think?)

The most notable difference between these two ladies that I think needs addressing is their outlook on life. Miss Marple's take on the world is one of pronounced pragmatism. Over the years, Miss Marple's heard a plethora of rumors and solved a multitude of crimes. This knowledge has lead to the understanding that while not always pleasant, the dimmest view of someone's motives is often the most accurate. While Lori, who hasn't seen nearly as much, holds a far more upbeat vision of the world and the people in it. Perhaps in time, Miss Marple and Lori's world views will align, but only time will tell.

Until then Lori will continue to hone her skills (much as Marple did) solving every niggly little puzzle that creeps up in Finch.

Such as the latest installment, Aunt Dimity & The Heart of Gold. A lovely mystery which uses Christmas/winter as a backdrop/springboard to propel this mystery forward. Where a mysterious motorist crashes a Christmas party, then discovers a Hindu alter hidden in a priest hole no one, including the homeowners, knew was there!

Lori really has her hands full in this one...

I thoroughly enjoyed every page in this book. Atherton does a great job in balancing the mystery with the Christmastime theme. Happily, she never succumbs to the syrupy sweetness that often plagues book set in December! Again using the time of year to move the mystery forward - not stall it under a ton of garland.

Now, if Atherton's backlist daunts you, don't worry. So long as you understand you are not starting with the first book and are willing to roll with it, you'll be fine. As it was, I was a few books (six) out of date and had no problems picking up the thread of the series again. Now I normally recommend you start with the first book first, so you understand the hint of magic eddying around the fringes of this series, but it's not required.

All that being said, I must say I couldn't put this book down until I finished the very last (and highly satisfying) page. And the only reason I didn't finish it in one sitting is that I needed to get some sleep!

I would recommend this book to anyone like me who loves a great mystery and/or enjoys reading Christmas books in July!

Don’t forget to check out my other blog - Finder of Lost Things!

This week, Dourwood decided it’s time to execute The Brace Affair...what could go wrong?

#my 52 weeks with christie #nancy atherton #aunt dimity #lori sheperd #finder of lost things #book review #mystery review #book #mystery #book cover #miss marple #agatha christie

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cyrus-andimack · 6 years

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12 Days of Tyrus

Day 2 - Christmas with the Kippens

“You’re sure this is okay?” Cyrus asked his mom one last time as they walked from the car towards TJ’s door on Christmas Eve.

She smiled down at him, her arms hugging his sleeping bag and pillow. “When we had TJ round for Hanukkah, he was very respectful. I don’t see why you can’t do the same for him at Christmas,” she explained.

Cyrus nodded, glad that celebrating Christmas with his friend didn’t upset his family. He sat the bag of gifts he was carrying down on the front step and rang the doorbell. When the door swung open, TJ’s dad greeted them, along with the sound of Christmas carols playing in another room.

“Hi, Mr Kippen!” There was a series of thumps from the hallway as someone bounded down the stairs, and TJ appeared by his father’s side in an instant.

“Cyrus, you came!” TJ beamed at him.

“You sound surprised,” Cyrus laughed. Mr Kippen stepped aside in the doorway, inviting Cyrus and his mother inside.

“Oh, thank you, but I’d really best get home.” She offloaded the pile of bedding into Cyrus’s arms and kissed his forehead lightly. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

Cyrus blushed at the affection but smiled in return. “Thanks, Mom.”

As she left, TJ took the sleeping bag from Cyrus, leaving him to carry just the pillow, which he managed much more easily. “This can go up in my room,” TJ smiled.

Cyrus shuffled inside. He lifted the presents and set them down by the door as he closed it, shutting out the cold. TJ was already halfway up the stairs, and Cyrus hurried after him. He’d been to TJ’s house before, but he’d never stayed over, though TJ had slept at his house plenty of times.

When Cyrus entered TJ’s room, he was surprised to see that the bed had been slid over to make room for a blow up mattress, which already had a sleeping bag on it. He shot TJ a confused look. “I thought you said I had to bring a sleeping bag?”

TJ shrugged. “Yeah,” he grinned. “I figured that if I offered you my bed, you probably wouldn’t take it. So we’re both camping on the floor - or, air mattress, I guess.”

Cyrus was constantly finding himself surprised by his friend’s thoughtful gestures. He threw the pillow down next to TJ’s. As he made to lie down on it, TJ grabbed his hand.

“Nope, come on. There’s a lot to do before we go to sleep!” He pulled Cyrus out of the bedroom and guided him down the stairs and into the kitchen. Now Cyrus knew where the Christmas music had been coming from. Amber was wearing a Santa hat, putting Tupperware into the fridge, her phone playing ‘Jingle Bell Rock’ from the countertop.

“Hey, Cyrus!” Amber greeted him. “You’re just in time.”

“In time for what?”

TJ let go of his hand and brought out a mixing bowl from the cupboard. “Baking gingerbread cookies!”

“I just finished prepping the vegetables for Christmas dinner tomorrow night,” Amber told them. “Trust you guys to turn up for the fun part.” She smiled at Cyrus, clearly in too much of a festive mood to really be annoyed with them.

Despite being the world’s worst baker, Cyrus was excited at the prospect of gingerbread cookies. He put the bowl on the scale and opened up the bag of sugar.

“Not so fast,” TJ stopped him. He handed him a folded piece of cloth.

“What...?” Cyrus opened it out curiously, and grinned when he realised what it was. “A snowman?” he laughed, holding the kitchen apron in front of his torso.

Amber rolled her eyes from the other side of the room. “It’s just cookies, TJ, you don’t need aprons.”

TJ smirked at his sister. “You’re right, we don’t. But don’t you think Cyrus would make an adorable snowman?” Amber smiled knowingly, and it was Cyrus’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Well you may just be joking around, but I’m going to take all the help I can get in the kitchen. Come help me fasten this,” he instructed, hands reaching to tie the apron’s straps behind his neck.

TJ chuckled and did as he was told, laying the recipe book face down so as not to lose the page. He stood behind Cyrus, and watched him struggle for a second longer before taking the ribbons from Cyrus’s hands, their fingers brushing only for a moment. Cyrus felt TJ’s cold touch on the back of his neck, but it wasn’t the temperature that made him shiver. “Thanks,” he breathed, turning to look up at TJ.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Gag,” came a sound from the corner, which reminded both of them that they were not alone.

TJ flushed. “What?”

“Nothing,” Amber giggled. “Come on, it’s already quite late. We want to have cookies to leave for Santa, don’t we?”

“That’s always confused me,” Cyrus said. “Shouldn’t he be too busy rushing to deliver presents to have time to stop and eat cookies in every house he visits?”

TJ looked offended. “Santa’s magic. He can eat as many cookies as he likes, he’ll always have time to deliver presents all round the world.”

Cyrus laughed. “That explains it.”

*****

When the cookies were finally baked and out of the oven, it took TJ a lot of effort to convince Cyrus they had to wait for them to cool down before they could decorate them. They had made gingerbread people, stars, hearts and cats; the cat-shaped cookie cutter was intended for Halloween but Cyrus insisted that it was just too cute to not include.

When Cyrus was losing all hope of ever getting to eat these cookies, Amber announced, “They should have cooled enough by now. You guys can go decorate, I’ve got some presents to wrap.”

“Yay!” Cyrus exclaimed. He instantly knew what his first cookie was going to be. He retrieved the recipe book they’d used earlier and stood it up, so that it acted as a wall around the gingerbread he was icing.

“What’s that for?” TJ frowned.

“So you can’t see it.”

TJ feigned hurt. “I’m not allowed to see?”

“It’s a surprise! You’ll see it later,” Cyrus assured him. TJ smiled at that. “What are you making?”

“Is mine not allowed to be a surprise?” TJ joked.

“Well, it’s in plain sight, so it’s not very secret. I just don’t know... what is it?” He hoped he wasn’t offending TJ’s artistic skill.

TJ rolled his eyes and spun his plate around. Cyrus gasped. He had wondered why TJ had used the leftover dough to make such a weird shaped cookie. “It’s a swing set!”

TJ nodded, smiling brightly. “Well,” Cyrus began, hurrying to finish his own attempt, “we need someone to swing on it.”

He put down the book and positioned his gingerbread man on the swing. TJ grinned as he noticed the basketball hoodie the cookie was wearing. “Is that me?”

“No, it’s Jonah. The Space Otters disbanded and now he’s decided to join the basketball team,” Cyrus told him. TJ looked confused. “Of course it’s you!”

“Well then, I think Gingerbread TJ needs a Gingerbread Friend.” He got another cookie and began to style it around Cyrus, who watched with a content smile.

*****

Cyrus was the first to get into his sleeping bag. He lay waiting for TJ to return from the bathroom, looking up at the ceiling. He glanced at the clock. 23:55.

The door creaked open, letting some light in from the hallway. TJ chuckled. “You don’t have to lie here in the dark.”

“I like the dark,” Cyrus told him. “It’s peaceful. Still.”

TJ nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose it is,” he agreed. He closed the door quietly, but not before Cyrus noticed that TJ, the boy who always slept in a t-shirt at his house, was wearing pyjamas. Elf ones, at that.

“You don’t wear pyjamas,” Cyrus giggled.

TJ shrugged. “Christmas tradition. The elves leave them for us.”

“That’s adorable,” Cyrus grinned, unsure whether or not TJ could see his face in the darkness. He could make out the other boy’s silhouette as he navigated towards the air mattress and shuffled into his sleeping bag. As he lay down, Cyrus felt the bed move underneath him.

The two faced each other and Cyrus could feel the warmth radiating from TJ’s face. He felt the soft, steady movement of the bed in as the other boy breathed. Then he felt a gentle touch on his face. He smiled.

“Just wanted to check you’re still here,” TJ whispered, brushing his cheek as he removed his hand slowly.

“I’m here,” Cyrus confirmed.

“Good,” TJ sighed, rolling onto his back. The bed moved again as TJ shifted, and Cyrus giggled.

“What?” TJ asked him.

“It’s like we’re on a boat.”

“Oh yeah?” Though he couldn’t make out details of his face, Cyrus could tell TJ was smirking at him. Just as he realised this, the air mattress began to wobble in waves as TJ shook it from his side.

Cyrus screeched with laughter and almost fell onto the floor. “Shh,” TJ laughed. “Amber’s probably asleep, it’s late.” He looked at the clock. “Hey, it’s after midnight. Know what that means?”

“Yeah,” Cyrus yawned. “Merry Christmas, TJ.”

With his eyes now adjusted to the dark, he noticed the happy curve of TJ’s lips. “Merry Christmas, Cy.”

#really christmas eve but oh well #12daysoftyrus #12 days of tyrus #andi mack #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #mine #tyrus fic

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alchemyeats · 5 years

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Diving fully into Autumn with a big bowl of gingerbread oats 🍁Ginger is great for maintaining good immunity, and is especially helpful during flu season. Oats are a delicious way to incorporate more ginger. To add more warming flavours to this bowl we also added cinnamon, and topped it with caramelised apples, bananas, chia seeds, and almond butter 🍁🍏🍌 . Elements included: Ginger. . Use #alchemyeats and tag us in your recipes. Bonus points if you use one or more of the 7 Elements. We love seeing your creations. We'll feature our favourites! . Check out alchemyldn.co.uk to find out more about us 🍍🍓🍏 (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/B4x1nE6pDBf/?igshid=ytca5m2kexvz

#alchemyeats

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 5 years

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Caramel Skin Under A Red and Green Cloud prt 7 full draft

For the next two days after the storm, Keith was roped away to help with the clean up in town with his team, Marco and Jorge, while Lance spent the morning with his siblings and his own team cleaning up and doing chores around the farm, before getting into the Christmas spirit. All things considered it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Keith had gotten pretty jumpy when the weather had turned worse around the middle of the night, unable to settle down properly due to each loud crash of thunder. After how badly his husband's instincts had been affected, Lance hadn't wanted to seperate from him. He wanted to keep Keith close, show him there was nothing to fear, that no Galra ships were about to destroy everything his family held dear. Instead, he was on the team helping prepare for the Christmas party in town now that it was Christmas Eve. Being the biggest of them Luis would dress up as Santa and hand out presents to the kids from town. The rest of them would dress up as elves, and help to keep the peace. Dozens of children hyped up on sugar was bound to get rowdy. It wasn't helped by the copious amounts of Christmas cookies they were baking. With his home town trying to return to normal, they'd picked the tradition up again, now including aliens that had chosen to make Earth their home. Lance was somewhat ashamed to admit he'd spent the day drinking himself stupid as he'd stupidly mentally planned all these Christmases and holidays with Allura. All his stupid plans had wound up meaning nothing, Christmas even spent throwing up all over the bathroom. At the time he didn't want help... or want to admit he'd needed help. This year, he was going to be the best goddamn elf in the world. He'd already slipped a small present to Luis to hand out to Keith, and Marco had found a pair of reindeer ears for Kosmo to wear. Everything was going perfect. He just needed an excuse to slip off and change before Keith came back.

Pulling out the tray of gingerbread... they were supposed to be gingerbread men, but "men" would be a very loose interpretation. They were more like gingerbread blobs. With little blobby legs and hands. He'd told Rachel she was adding too much self raising flour, especially when there was no self raising flour in the recipe. Maybe if they got creative with the icing sugar, they could pass them off as gingerbread aliens. Glancing up at the clock, it was nearing three o'clock. This Christmas thing would start at 5, run until about 8. Then they'd head clean up, head to the town house before midnight mass. His mami had assured him that he didn't need to come to Christmas morning mass, or midnight mass, but Keith had never done the church thing before, so he really wanted to share it with his husband at least once. He also wanted his team to experience what it was like in their church. The aunties wouldn't be at midnight mass, no, they'd be coming for lunch with their dreary expressions and judgmental gazes, which only served to make night mass more appealing.

"Lance, stop looking at the clock. Keith will be back when he comes back"

Rolling his eyes at Rachel, it wasn't as if he didn't know that

"Leave him alone. He's a married man now"

Poking his tongue at Daehra, Daehra was attempting to teach Lucteal how to work a piping bag with no clue what she was doing either

"And whose fault is that? No, I want to go take a shower and change before Keith comes back"

"Don't you usually shower with him?"

Rachel choked as she went to laugh at Daehra, Marco looking up from the gingerbread house he was making to roll his eyes

"We don't need to know about what our little brother does with his husband. But Lance is right, we need to start getting changed. Why don't you go ahead, it'll give us time to question your team about what else you get up to"

"Like you didn't do that the other night over monopoly. I don't know if I'm ok with you all conspiring against me"

Daehra looked alarmed

"We are not conspiring"

"It's a joke, Dae. Rachel, you murdered this batch. You can ice them, I'm going to shower and change"

"Your costumes in the..."

"The living room. I know. I'll shower and come right back"

"Why don't you just shower here?"

Lance felt his cheeks dust red. There was a very good reason he wasn't showering and changing in the house

"Because they'll want hot water when they get back. Try not to destroy the house while I'm gone. And don't let Rachel near the dough mix..."

Throwing the comment back over his shoulder, Lance rushed from the kitchen to grab the shirt and hat from the living room. It wasn't really a costume. Just a green shirt and pointed hat with ears... but Lance had more than that planned. He and Keith would have tonight after mass all the way through until roughly 10am the following day. So, he was a man with a plan that he knew might very well backfire... He didn't know what his husband would think, though he was hoping he wouldn't laugh at him. Not when it'd taken all the courage he'd been able to muster at the time to put his plan into motion. All he could do was roll the dice and the play the hand he was given... and if things went to quiznak, he'd be taking the first available wormhole off Earth, changing his name again, then going into hiding for the rest of his life which wouldn't be all that long given he'd be dead from embarrassment. He'd already left all his presents under the tree for the following day. They'd all have something to remember him by... if this all went horribly wrong.

Manual labour felt good. The simple process of moving something from point A to B. It was easy and repetitive, yet he and his team were making a difference. The storm had hit the town harder than the farm. Houses had lost fences, gates, trees... but thankfully no one had been harmed. With four healthy part Galra chipping in, the work flew by. Streets cleared and rubbish taken out of town to be dumped. The way everyone came together warmed Keith's heart. Lance came from a strong and loving community... if not a slightly nosy one. Intergalactic media had shown up at the rumour of the former Black Paladin of Voltron was helping a small Cuban community after a storm... the very same community that the former Red Paladin came from. Whispers grew from mouth to mouth, before Keith knew what was happening, he was being asked to confirm rumours that he and Lance were dating. Without Lance there, all Keith could do was dodge the questions as his team hung him out to dry.

When the cleanup work was done, Keith found himself somehow assisting in setting up for a Christmas party he'd never expected to be attending. He'd never heard of a town where someone dressed up as Santa and handed gifts to the children. Some were provided by the parents of the children, and others stores donated for poorer families. With all the love in the air, all Keith wanted to do was get home to Lance. They'd left the farm before nine, and now it was nearing 4. They'd worked all day. Every tick he'd thought he have the chance to check in with Lance, he was being summoned off to do something else. He'd probably annoyed his husband to his wits end as it was. The storm had really messed with his head, he hadn't been able to leave Lance's side that night... the night when he'd almost confessed the horrors of all those bad foster homes. Lance had held him tightly, both of them sleeping through dinner only to creep down in the middle of the night in a mess of soft laughter. That hadn't lasted long when the thunder had started up again, Keith dragging Lance back up to Rachel's old room to lock down the situation and make sure no one could get close to his husband.

It was half past four by the time they finished up. Instead of returning to the farm, Lance and the others drove in to meet them all at the town house where Luis and Lisa lived. His husband looked both ridiculous and kind of cute as he marched around in an elf outfit giving orders. Tag teaming with them, they barely saw each other for longer than a few minutes before Lance was off to the party and he was sent to shower and change, relieved to find that he wasn't going to be wearing the same outfit as his husband. He most certainly wasn't an elf...

Dressed in black jeans and a white button-up shirt, Keith felt over dressed until they arrived at the party. Most of the children were dressed up, with the girls in all sorts of pretty dresses, and boys with their hair slicked back by fussing parents of all different kinds of races. He didn't think aliens would be so into Christmas... Lance was already standing by a dressed up Luis who was posing for photos with children, by the looks of it his husband was taking details of everyone getting a photo. This was all something he had no experience with. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, or how he could help. He'd been working all day, stopping now seemed kind of a let down... besides, if Lance's family was running all of this, didn't that mean he got a job too?

Jumping at the feeling of a wet nose brushing against his hand, Keith sighed as he looked down to see a sad looking Kosmo with reindeer ears on. His wolf looked confused and scared by all the kids around. Most of them would never have seen a wolf in their lives, let alone a space wolf

"Keith? What's wrong mijo?"

For the second time in as many ticks, Keith jumped. This time as Lance's mother carried over a beer to him

"Oh, hey Miriam... mami. Sorry, did it look like something was wrong?"

"You have been standing in the same spot for some time now. Doesn't Lance look cute?"

Lance looked like a lanky idiot as he waved his arms, talking to one of the parents of the kid on Luis's lap

"Yeah. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No, no honey. You relax tonight. Lance is sending the photos Marco is taking to the families, and Rachel has the gift bags organised"

"Oh..."

What did he do then?

"You don't do well with relaxing, do you? Here, you take your beer and go sit yourself down with your team. They're not used to Earth Christmases are they?"

He wasn't either.

"Um... Mami, I don't know what to say. The only recent Christmases I've had was with Shiro and his ex-fiancé... and his brother. I've never done all of this"

He'd been too old for all this "Christmas magic" business. With Shiro being sick, Adam would let them take their hoverbikes out for a few hours then it was home, Chinese takeaway and bad movies. Adam usually had work to catch up on, so did Shiro... so it was a weird kind of Christmas, without Santa... and cookies. It'd been everything to him at the time... but not what he'd call a true family Christmas like Lance would... but maybe it was? And this was just another type of family Christmas?

"In that case, why don't you go stand with Lance if that makes you more comfortable. Once the photos are over, Marco will hand Lance presents to be handed out, he'll mark them off his list and hand them to Lu-Santa. All the kids will sit in a semi-circle in front of Santa, waiting for their names to be called out. The packs of cookies are for the children while us adults sit and eat, over where your teams are now. You did a wonderful job helping with the clean up. Jorge was bragging about you to his friends"

Lance's father bragged about him?

"He... he did?"

"Of course, mijo. He is very proud of you and we're both... so grateful that you have been there for our Lance. You've given us back our son"

Now his awkwardness level had gone up a step...

"Lance did all the hard work"

"We all need a little help, heavens knows Lance is quite stubborn over all the wrong things. He's so used to placing everyone ahead of himself. It's nice to see him finally pursuing something for himself"

"I think I was the one who did that was me"

"I'm certainly glad you did. Oooh, he's looking at us. I better let you go. I'm supposed to be over there... somewhere. I don't remember now. Dear me..."

Rushing off, Miriam really did seem confused as to what she was going to do before coming to see him. With nothing else to do, and a staring husband, Keith patted his leg to tell Kosmo to follow as he walked over to join his husband... where he once again stood awkwardly. Lance was busy and he didn't want to interrupt... But quiznak... his husband looked hot as hell in work mode... and cute as hell when helped kids out of Luis's lap. Lance was amazing with children, his smile not wavering as he sent them off back to their parents with a smile. Would it be weird if he and Lance had kids some day? That was the whole reason Allura has changed Lance's biology for him... And quiznak, the beer he was drinking must have more alcohol than he realised in it because he definitely wasn't surrounded by kids while thinking about having kids with his husband. Nope. He wasn't doing that... Not about how adorable Lance was as a child, with those wide blue eyes... and that perpetually sun kissed skin... Nope. Nooo... now he was blushing... Stupid beer. This was all his husband's fault...

As Lance turned to him, their eyes met. A cheeky smile as Lance waved his hand in front of his face

"Hello? Earth to Keith? You ok there?"

Catching Lance's hand, Keith couldn't help himself as he moved to capture the Cuban's lips in a loving kiss. Laughing as it broke, Lance's eyes seemed to sparkle

"There's kids watching"

"Sorry... I couldn't help myself"

"It's better than you standing there looking lost. If you want to sit down, I'll be up here for a while longer"

"No. I'm good. Plus, someone has to protect the reindeer"

"Ahhh. Kosmo didn't look too happy with his headband"

"It's probably all the kids. You saw how he reacted to Annla"

"I didn't think about that... my poor puppa"

"Oi! Lovebirds, get back to work!"

Lance gave a snorted laugh, turning to poke his tongue out at Marco before turning back to him

"You heard the boss. If you want to go sit with everyone, that's fine. I'll be right here"

Again... Again he had nothing to do. He wasn't sure if Lance was being polite and attempting so send him away, or if he didn't mind either way

"No. No brow scrunching. I just don't want you being bored"

"I'm not bored. You... make a cute elf"

"I know... hmm, now that I think about it, you should definitely go sit down... We've got church tonight, and I might have something planned for after that"

"You have something planned?"

Lance shifted, looking a little flustered as he looked down at his holopad

"Yeah, so... go rest. Plus, you're really hot and it's starting to distract me"

"Fine. But I don't like doing nothing. If you need help, you'll call me over, won't you?"

"Yeah, babe. Now shoo. Marco is still glaring at us for interrupting his system"

Kissing Lance's cheek, Keith then forced himself away. A flustered Lance was simply too alluring

"I can't wait to find out what you have planned"

Sitting with the remainder of their combined teams, Ezor had so far made a kid cry by popping her gum too loudly. Acxa wound up holding Lisa and Luis youngest, a pouty toddler by the name of Juana who kept grabbing for her ears. Zethrid seemed to be embracing her unknown maternal side as she repeatedly commented on the kids receiving their presents. Her words were gruff when comparing Galra gifts of weaponry to the toys from Earth. Lucteal growing bored of her and calling her out on the feelings he was picking up from her. It's promptly brought Ezor gum popping to the end. Zak was typing away on his laptop ignoring the stares from the children who'd never seen an alien like him, thought, to be fair, Keith hadn't seen anyone else like Zak out there. Missing from the group were Daehra and Tobias who'd been roped into playing with some kids and a soccer ball. Tobias so huge that he could easily block the ball from being stolen, leaving him confused as to how he was playing the game wrong. Everything was going well, until Keith heard his name called out... by Luis. Sitting in his Santa's throne, both Luis and a chorus of kids were all staring at him

"Former Black Paladin Keith! Keith my boy, where are you?! Santa has a present for you"

Taking his beer from him, Lisa appeared out of nowhere

"Up you go"

"Me? What?"

"Santa called your name silly"

"I'm an adult"

"And everyone is staring at you... go on"

But... He was an adult. What the quiznak was happening here? And why was his heart doing all kinds of weird things as he nervously walked towards Luis. In the corner of his eye, he saw his husband shoot him the thumbs up. That little shit. He wanted to strangle him. God. Why was he so nervous? He was literally getting a present from Lance's brother... Stumbling over his own feet, "Santa" laughed as he approached

"Keith, my boy! Santa has heard all about your hard work. Come sit in Santa's lap"

What now? What... just because most of the kids had to pose for photos, didn't mean he had to... yet, when he reached Luis, he found himself pulled into his lap with one hand and a pressed pushed against him with another, then Marco popped up to take the photo

"How about it kids, Black Paladin Keith! Now Keith, what is it you want for Christmas?"

Whispering so only Luis could hear, he was blushing hard at all the attention

"To murder your brother"

Luis snorted with laughter, nearly breaking character in front of the staring children. Coughing and clearing his throat, the man waved his free hand

"Hear that boys and girls! Keith says he wants us all to be happy! Now off you go Keith!"

Sent back to his seat, Keith was in a daze. Laughing happily at him, Ezor went to swipe his present only for Lucteal to stop her

"Lance picked his gifts for Keith carefully. Leave him alone"

Lucteal sticking up for him was some kind of Christmas miracle in it's self

"Keith, are you alright?"

Placing his beer back in front of him, Lisa placed her hand on his shoulder. Looking up at the woman, he didn't know what to say

"What the quiznak just happened?"

"Lance has as in with Santa. I heard him telling the big man you've been good this year"

It still wasn't quite registering. Something in his brain was mad at Lance. Something in his brain felt embarrassed over being called up. And something in the back of his brain was also irrationally saying "Holy quiznak, Santa knows my name". These three tiny thoughts went a long way to explaining why his eyes were wet. Dropping his gaze back to the present in front of him, he stared at the sparkly red paper, nearly tied with a green ribbon

"Go ahead and open it. Your elf has a few more duties to do. Merry Christmas, Keith"

"I... thank you. Merry Christmas Lisa"

It wasn't a huge present. No bigger than a shoe box. Keith's hands shaking slightly as his tugged the ribbon undone, well aware that more than a few eyes were on him. Kids. Team members. A confused Kosmo. Adults he didn't know. Probably Lance if had the bravery to turn around. Pushing the paper back, he laughed at the vintage hand held game console. He could remember being a kid, when these were as popular as hell. Of course, all the other kids at school had them. He'd called them stupid, and babies for playing with them to hide his own jealousy...

"What is it?"

Peering over his shoulder, Lisa laughed

"I remember those! Luis was bitter for years that he had to share one between the five of them. I wonder how he got his hands on it"

"I have no idea. I thought most things like that were destroyed?"

Keith may have been ever so very awe struck as he pulled the game console box out of the box Lance had wrapped it in. Undoing the end, his awe only grew as he slid the plastic packaging out to reveal the red console. This was better than good. It was... He had no words

"Wow. It looks in amazing condition..."

As Acxa leaned in to suss out his present, Keith pushed it back in to the box, snatching it up to his chest

"Nope. It's mine. I'm not sharing"

"It's just a game console"

"It's not just anything. Do you have any idea how popular these were? You were like the coolest kid ever if you had one"

"Keith is right. Even I remember them. It must have... what? 10-15 years ago?"

Nodding, Keith stared down at his precious present. How could Lance possibly know? He didn't even know he was still holding a grudge over never one, not until he finally got one for himself... He needed Lance. He was about to cry... Shiro had loved him. They were brothers until the very end of time... but Lance... Lance truly understood and loved him... As far as he could remember, he'd never sat on "Santa's" knee... or been to party like this... or... No. He needed to find his husband

"Keith, are you alright?"

"He's fine. He's really happy right now. It's kind of annoying"

Lucteal sounded bored, Keith not giving two shits if he was being rude. Pushing his chair back, he kept his present close to him as rose and slipped past Lisa.

Standing near the throne still, Lance wasn't expecting the near crash tackle as Keith hit him with enough force to knock him back into the decorated tree behind the throne. Sniffling, he held his gift to his chest with one hand and looped his free arm around his husband's shoulders, fingers gripping Lance's hair as he buried his face against his shoulder. Slowly, his husband wrapped his arms around him

"Babe, what's wrong? You're crying"

"Thank you... I... thank you. I love you so fucking much... I..."

Nuzzling into his hair, Lance pressed kisses just above his ear

"I love you too, Keith. I love you, and you are more than welcome. I was a little scared when you came charging over here"

"I... all the kids..."

Lance laughed softly

"I wanted to give you good Christmas memories..."

"No... yes... but... I never had this as a kid. I really wanted one, but if I asked... there was no point"

"Oh, babe. Hey. I had to share one with my siblings. When I saw them in an Earth store, I nearly couldn't believe it. I found myself buying red things, but I was always thinking of you and that red jacket. I'm happy you like it. I hope you don't mind I kind of opened it to make sure it worked"

Keith hadn't even considered the fact that it might not, but knowing it did opened a whole new world of opportunities

"I... thank you. It's perfect"

"You're perfect. You're also squashing an elf in front of children"

"Oh!"

Keith's face was a mess when he stepped back so Lance was no longer squashed against the tree. With his hand still on the back of Lance's neck he was forced to step forward. Keith sniffling loudly as he tried to calm down

"You're a mess babe"

"Sorry"

Letting his hold go, Lance moved his hands to his face, wiping the tear tracks down his cheeks with a smile

"No. I'm happy you're so happy. I wasn't sure... I thought it might be too dorky"

"It is the perfect amount of dorky. You're the perfect amount of dorky"

"Merry Christmas, Keith"

"Thank you... I got you something too. But you'll have to wait until tomorrow now"

Lance raised an eyebrow

"You think this is your only Christmas gift?"

It wasn't? Moving his head slightly, it was Keith's turn to be confused

"You mean..."

"Oh babe. You literally married into the wrong family. 5 of us. 6 with Lisa. Mami and papi. Your team. My team. My grandparents... oooh, you haven't met pop-pop. He's going to try give you tequila, and my abuela. She's likely to stab me with her knitting needle for not introducing you sooner... They always give us 10 peso notes, with a cheeky smile and a wink. So I don't know if you count that as a gift... but babe, you need to prepare for tomorrow"

Presents. Actual presents from multiple people. His mind couldn't comprehend. Sure, not all homes had been awful, but those memories faded faster than the bad ones

"I didn't... I mean..."

"I know you got gifts for Mami and papi. I was there. And when we got the gifts for the others. I promise you, they know it's from both of us and that you went to the effort of asking me. Seriously, Marco is so easy you could give him a sock and he'd be happy"

"Marco also takes large donations of unmarked bills. Lance, can I have the holopad? So I can start sending out those photos?"

Marco's voice came out of nowhere, Lance sighing as he turned his head to look at his brother

"An elf's work is never done. It's by the throne. I set up the facial recognition program, so all they should all be sorted into who is who for those who got second photos taken"

"I hope I didn't get any of your ugly mug in there. It'd break the whole system"

Keith growled as Marco insulted his husband. Laughing, Lance just shook his head

"I'm too beautiful for this. Come on, babe. Let's go join the others?"

Keith didn't want to join the others. He wanted to rush back to the Telula and play his game... buuut... he had to at least pretend to be an adult until they got home

"Yeah... yeah..."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to take your game away. I've been watching you all night and I had to wait all day to hold you again. Right now, I want to get off my feet and wrap my arms around you"

It wasn't Marco's fault he was so forgettable. All it took was Lance's big blue eyes and warm hold

"You guys are gross! I'm telling Mami I saw Keith kissing an elf in the bushes if you don't get out the way already"

"You want to see something extra gross?"

Marco didn't stand a chance. Lance was in a shit stirring mood. Without warning, his husband jumped up and wrapped his legs around his waist, holding himself there as Keith was left to scramble to slip his free arm under his husband's arse to hold him. With both hands on his cheeks, the kiss was deep but over too fast. Probably so as not to scare the children. Keeping himself stable, Lance didn't move once it broke and Keith was confused all over again

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No. I jumped without thinking. I was worried if I moved I'd damage your present"

Lance had tried to curve around the box, even if he'd jumped up without thinking. Pulling it up to sit higher against his chest, he smiled knowing that it wasn't damaged

"I think we're good"

"I think we should sit. I've broken Marco"

"That I can do"

"Oooh. My big strong husband..."

"Damn straight"

"Actually, you're gay..."

Giggling his head off, Keith could only roll his eyes at Lance as he started back to where he'd been sitting with everyone else before.

This new family Christmas thing was weird. It was scary... daunting and left him kind of nauseous with anxiety when he stopped to think about it too much, but somehow Lance was pulling down walls he didn't know still existed and easing his soul in only a way his dorky arse husband could.

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army-author · 7 years

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written on our veins (pt.1)

↳ next part

❝ You and Hoseok are sick of spending the holidays soulmate-less while your friends enjoy Christmas as couples... tired of waiting for fate to make a move, you decide to take matters into your own hands. ❞

➳ prompts: “Wake me up when winter’s over.” + “We’re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. I won’t allow that!”

➳ pairing: hoseok x reader

➳ word count: 19.4k

➳ genre: fluff, angst, soulmate au

➳ warnings: implied smut, mentions of alcohol

➳ part of the ‘cold days, warm hearts’ collab

➳ author’s note: sorry that this took so long to be posted... and sorry that it’s completely self-indulgent... merry Christmas!

Jung Hoseok greets everyone with a kiss. Just to make sure they aren’t the one. While others might go in with a handshake, Hoseok prefers to tug strangers in for a press of his lips, only to pull back and check for the writing on the wrist that indicates you’ve discovered your soulmate.

You, on the other hand, have never kissed anyone. Not even Hoseok.

He did try to kiss you when you first met, your best friend, Mina, introducing him as a friend of her soulmate. You had stepped towards him to say hello with your hand outstretched, and he took that as an open invitation for his ‘soulmate check’, pulling you past the small distance that anyone with a sense of personal space would know to leave free. You only just managed to duck out of his way, leaving his lips to graze your cheek. He had quickly apologised after that, and tried to explain that it was just his way of speeding up destiny’s swirling indecision – keeping the soulmate-less waiting, hoping life would be merciful to them, and drop a lover into their open arms. But that doesn’t seem to be how the world works. There must be some secret that you’re missing. Do you have to slip a bribe to fate under the table of the universe, praying it’ll match you with someone nice?

It certainly seems that way. With all of your friends already paired off, the name of their soulmate gleaming bright on their skin, their eyes shining brighter still as they gaze lovingly at each other, you can’t help but wonder what you and Hoseok are doing wrong, why neither of you have found your soulmates yet. It would probably have been a good idea to give up a long time ago, resolving yourself to the fact that fate doesn’t want you to be happy, not like the couples you see everywhere you go. You’re getting older and older, and with each year that passes, the idea of someone coming into your life to love you, dictated by destiny before you could decide, seems more and more bizarre. You begin to wonder… do you even deserve love in the first place? Or is there a reason that the hand of fate holds away all the shining goodies of a fulfilled life with a soulmate?

This feeling only gets worse around Christmas time. With the holiday marketed towards soulmates, the whole world shouting out in one voice that December 25th is a day to spend time with the one you love most – although lost somewhere in the background you’re sure there was meant to be something about a baby born in a manger… The shops are filled with cards spouting cheesy love poems, couples Christmas sweaters are displayed in the windows of shops, and the ads on TV proclaim that you should be buying your soulmate what they really want this year - their newest product of course! All the restaurants and cafes are filled with couples, ogling each other over mince pies and gingerbread lattes, and all the events in town are planned with soulmates in mind, ending with the Christmas festival, strictly for those lucky enough to have someone else’s name on their skin, while the soulmate-less are left beyond the lights and colours, told to wait their turn. It’s all there to remind you that you’re alone – rubbing it in your face, stinging like salt on an ice road. No matter how much you try to smile, and tell your friends that you don’t mind being excluded while they go off on dates, the truth is clear – you mind a lot.

And no matter how hard your friends try to include you in their plans, there are some things that the soulmate-less simply can’t do.

“Oh, we should definitely try baking Christmas cookies together!” Mina says over a mug of hot chocolate, pointing down at the ever-growing list sitting in the middle of the coffee table in her living room, with the heading ‘ideas for Christmas’ scrawled across the top in red and green pen.

Your friends do this every year, taking a day where you meet up to decide what you’ll do with the free weeks you have over Christmas break before you have to go back to the dull reality of work, attempting to make the most of the bubble of candy canes and sherbet snowflakes before it pops apart. It’s always fun planning all you can do, helping you get in the Christmas spirit. But this year, you’re filled with a nibbling apprehension, stinging just below your skin. You know this Christmas will be worse than the ones before it.

As you sip of the hot chocolate Mina made, her own secret recipe - although you know that all she does is add peppermint syrup to the cream - your eyes flicker to the reason for your worry this year: your friend Soomi with her arm around her newly-found soulmate, Namjoon. Soomi and Namjoon used to be a part of the no soulmate club, proud members along with you and Hoseok, but now they’ve crashed together, leaving you and Hoseok as the sole soulmate-less friends. Your eyes flicker around the rest of the group, Mina poking Yoongi with her Christmas-socked foot to encourage him to write ‘cookie baking’ down on the list, and even though Yoongi grumbles, you know he’ll obey her, because despite surface facades, he’s completely enamoured with your best friend. Her name in black on his white wrist, printed in her cursive hand, is enough to expose him.

Seeing your friends with their soulmates, you couldn’t be happier for them, but a part of you, a selfish part, wishes you could go back to the time when it was only you and Mina and Soomi in high school, fresh-faced and ready to take on the world together, hoping your soulmates would show up along the way.

Your hand self-consciously slides to your own wrist, bare of any name, marking you out as one of the poor, lonely souls without a lover prescribed by fate. On the other side of the coffee table, where Hoseok’s loud red hair is a constant distraction for your eyes, you see his gaze flicker to where your hand is rubbing at your wrist, and he offers a small smile as consolation. You manage to return the gesture, before focusing in on the conversation again, hearing Yoongi complain to Mina, telling her that he’d rather not go the Christmas festival this year, since it’s always so crowded.

“But it’s a tradition to attend,” Mina pouts, eyebrows furrowing under her thick rimmed glasses.

Yoongi huffs a sigh, before finally adding it to the list, “Fine. Fine.”

Namjoon laughs. “Are you sure you two are actually soulmates? Your bickering makes me think that fate made a mistake.”

Mina and Yoongi snap their attention to Namjoon, and answer in one voice, “Of course,” while holding up their wrists as proof, before glancing at each other with a smile, surprised by their own synchronization.

Beside Namjoon, Soomi sighs, “The story of how you two figured out you were each other’s soulmates is so cute! Can you tell it again?” Her eyes shine bright, always eager to hear about other people’s romances.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, muttering, “We really don’t need to hear this again,” while Mina happily complies, launching into the story you’ve heard a hundred times before, and forcing a smile on Yoongi’s face, despite himself.

“It was… two years ago. Two years, right Yoongi?”

He nods.

“Yeah, and we both knew each other because we were working extra shifts together at the coffee shop. And every time a song came on that we liked, I would end up singing along while I washed dishes. And Yoongi would start humming as well.”

Yoongi blushes at this, but doesn’t dispute it.

“It turned out that we had the same tastes in music,” Mina continues, “We ended up bonding over that. It was like we had this secret chord extending between us, pulled taught every time the music played, and in the end Yoongi managed to work up the courage to ask me out. I kind of knew he was the one before he kissed me, and when he finally did, it was like fireworks going off inside my chest. Then I felt this odd stinging at my wrist, and when we looked down, we saw our names engraved on each other. But I didn’t need to see that to know we were soulmates,” she concludes, “Although it is nice to have the marks to prove it.”

Soomi leans her head against Namjoon’s shoulder as she smiles, “How romantic.”

Mina dips her head, short hair bobbing, “Your story with Namjoon is pretty cute too!”

At this, the attention shifts to the newest couple, only having realised they were soulmates a few months ago, when they both got drunk and ended up kissing each other at Namjoon’s birthday party.

Namjoon glances around the group, cheeks heating up as your friends grin back, still laughing at the couple who had claimed they would never need or want a soulmate. Quickly, before the teasing can start, Namjoon says, “Don’t you think we’re being a little unfair on our soulmate-less friends.”

At once, the attention snaps to you and Hoseok, as Mina says, “Oh yeah! Now’s the perfect time for you guys to find your soulmates! Imagine discovering who you’re destined to be with on Christmas. How romantic would that be?”

Under his breath, Yoongi grumbles, “Sorry I didn’t show up during Christmas,” to which she reaches out a hand to rub his shoulder, “I didn’t mean it that way, baby! I’m just saying that these guys are lucky because they still have their love story to look forward to. I mean look at us, we’ve been together two years - we’re practically an old married couple at this point!”

Despite Mina’s words, you don’t feel very lucky. You just feel alone and useless - the one that fate forgot. You don’t have anyone to kiss, no one to connect with, and with no affection being showered your way, there’s no chance of a soulmate mark appearing on your body.

On the other side of the room, Hoseok’s eyes dart your way, and your see his discomfort, a mirror of what you feel. Not one for wasting time, he’s kissed everyone he’s met, and still, his wrist remains blank like your own.

This is why you hate Christmas. Every year, when December rolls around, you’re forced to put on a brave face, pretending you’re still excited by the prospect of meeting your soulmate, like you were at the age of sixteen, with your friends all soulmate-less as well.

Mina seems to pick up on the awkwardness stretching out between you and Hoseok, as you share a second of embarrassment with all the attention focused on you. “Why don’t you guys try blind dating?” she suggests. “A lot of soulmate-less people do it this time of year, and you sometimes hear of couples who really hit it off, and end up finding their soulmate that way.”

“I don’t know…” you mumble, uncomfortable with the suggestion. To you, blind dating is only an option for the soulmate-less who have grown desperate, needing something to keep them entertained over Christmas. It seems as if December only has two options for people like you: blind dating, or helping out at a nursing home or soup kitchen, making yourself useful while the more fortunate side of the population is rendered useless in the arms of a lover. You don’t want either of those things for your Christmas, both options seem too close to admitting defeat.

“Come on,” Soomi says, “You won’t find your soulmate if you don’t put yourself out there!”

But what if there’s no soulmate to be found? The idea of going through the trouble of dating, only to kiss and find your wrist still bare, seems too much for you. You’d rather cut yourself off from disappointment before it can happen.

Instead of explaining this, you only mumble, “I’ll think about it,” fiddling with the cuffs of your sleeve, covering up your nameless wrist.

Sensing your embarrassment, Hoseok leaps in, “Speaking of things we should be doing this time of year, don’t we need to decorate?”

Mina surveys the room, still lacking a tree and ornaments, before turning to Yoongi, “We should have a house decorating party! Write that down on the list.”

With that, the conversation shifts back to Christmas activities you can do together, and you mouth a “Thank you!” to Hoseok while the others aren’t looking. In response, Hoseok rolls his eyes, and pulls a face, making you bite down on your lip to stop yourself from laughing – he makes the prospect of the next few weeks bearable. But even with Hoseok, you know that until the 25th passes, you’re going to be living in Hell. Forget joy to the world and peace on Earth, you’ll be glad if you’re still alive and breathing by the end of it all.

♡♡♡

With Mina and Yoongi waving you off from their house, you make your way down the icy drive, breathing clouds of fog as you call goodbye.

With them closing the door to you, going back to their blissful life, warm and happy, you make your way down the street to your own house, Hoseok by your side, his home in the same direction as yours. As you walk, Hoseok bumps his shoulder against yours gently. “Tonight was pretty intense. Are you okay?”

You turn your gaze his way, then as you feel your soles sliding on the icy pavement, you return your attention back to where you’re placing your feet. “It was fine…” You’re not convinced by your own tone, and you know Hoseok isn’t either.

As a friend of Yoongi’s, he came into your life two years ago, at the same time that Mina discovered her soulmate, and as the months stretched on, and your other friends slipped away, too busy with their new found loves, you’ve gotten to know Hoseok well. You can’t hide how you’re feeling from him, especially when you know he feels the exact same way. Looking back up to him, you see the disbelief you expected resonating in his pupils, reflecting the Christmas lights from the houses you pass.

“Okay… so it wasn’t fine.”

“Yeah…” Hoseok tousles his hair with his fingers, and huffs a cloud of white steam, “This time of year’s pretty tough.” It’s odd to see him this way. He’s normally loud and optimistic, full of hope that someday the person that he kisses will be the one to fill up the empty space on his wrist and in his chest. But it seems that this time of year has gotten to him as well.

“What do you think of blind dating?” you ask, as you round the street corner, where Hoseok’s house approaches ahead of you.

He stops and raises his eyes to the clear night’s sky – bright stars promising frost for the next day. “To be honest, I hate it,” he sighs, returning his eyes to yours with a wistful look, “That’s why I kiss everyone I meet, so I know right way what they are for me… so I’m not wasting anyone’s time, going on dates with them when we’re never meant to be.”

“Right…” you mumble, “I… I just don’t want to disappoint Mina, and the others. I know they only want us to be happy over Christmas.”

“I would be happy if they didn’t rub our singleness in our face!” Hoseok cries at this, voice raising in the cold night air, “Why does the world need to make Christmas a thing for soulmates?” His question seems directed to the space around him, his words echoing off the bare trees of the gardens, strung up with fairy lights to make their dead branches look more festive.

Caught up in his frustration, you mutter to the frozen wind, “Yeah world, what’s up with that? Don’t you want us to be happy?”

Hoseok grins, and then raises his voice a little louder, face pointing up to the sky, “Hey, fate, if you want to send my soulmate my way sometime soon, that’d be great!”

You laugh at him, and he continues on with his act, railing at the heavens, that wink back their stars, silent to his anger – “Fate, I’m ready whenever you are! Send a cute soulmate soon!”

His voice get louder, reverberating through your bones with words you wish you could shout as well, but instead, you grab onto his coat sleeve, lowering your tone, “Hoseok, not so loud. It’s late and people are trying to sleep.”

His eyes glitter and he takes a deep breath, shouting louder than before, just to annoy you, “If my soulmate would like to show up at any time, that’d be great!”

Shaking your head, but laughing yourself, you pull him towards his house. It has become a tradition that the two of you will end up together after spending time with your other friends, both of you bonding over your singleness, now that you’re the only ones left without soulmates. You don’t even need to ask if you’re invited inside as Hoseok fumbles for his keys with gloved hands, and pulls you through the door.

“Would you like some eggnog?” he asks as you shrug off your coat.

“I’d prefer something stronger...”

Hoseok chuckles at this, “Right.” You follow him to the kitchen, watching as he splashes out rum for you. “I think we need this,” he laughs, and you reach across the table to grab a glass and hold it up to him:

“To singleness.”

“To hopefully meeting our soulmates,” he corrects, and you curl your lips, before taking a gulp and letting the burning alcohol slide down your throat to warm your stomach.

“This time of year is the worst,” you moan as you set down your empty glass. Not being able to handle your liquor well, it automatically makes you moody, before it’ll push you over into tipsiness. You beckon for Hoseok to pour another glass and speed up the process, continuing, “I wish I could just sleep through this season. Do you want to wake me up when winter’s over and all this celebrating soulmate crap is done with?”

Hoseok’s lips quirk up, dimples showing in a half-smile. “Aren’t you excited for all Christmas has to offer?”

“It doesn’t have anything for me!” you complain, “It’s only fun if you have a soulmate! I mean, come on! Did you see the list of Christmas activities our friends have planned this year? It’s filled with things only couples can do! You can’t even get into the Christmas festival if you don’t have a date, and the restaurants and cafes are all too expensive without the soulmates’ discounts.”

At this, Hoseok’s smile recedes, dimples deepening as he presses his lips together. “Yeah… almost makes me want to go blind dating, just so I can get into all the benefits of having a soulmate. I want to at least see the Christmas festival…”

“This will be the worst Christmas yet,” you groan, “Why did Soomi and Namjoon have to get together, and leave us in our singleness?”

“Well, hey! At least we still have each other!” Hoseok makes his way around the table, until he can tackle your back in a bear hug. He collapses all his weight against you, like his legs have given up on holding him, in the same way that he’s given up on holding his positivity. It makes you feel special, knowing you’re one of the few people he’ll show this side around, dropping his bright smile for you. Your hand goes up to find his head, where he rests his chin on your shoulder, and you run a hand through his hair:

“Yeah, at least we have each other. Just promise me, Hoseok…”

He hums to you, you feel his chest rumbling.

“Just promise me that you won’t find your soulmate until I find mine. I don’t want one of us to be left single on our own.”

“Okay, I promise,” he murmurs, chin digging into you as he speaks.

“Good. Good.” You pat him on the head, while he takes your cup from your hand, and sets it by the sink, a hint that maybe you shouldn’t drink anymore, which you find mildly offensive. You’re barely tipsy, mind only slightly mushy, like you haven’t slept enough. Still you can’t find the strength to complain, and ask for another glass. Maybe you are tipsier than you realised.

“Wouldn’t it be good if we were soulmates?” Hoseok grins, returning his hold to you, the alcohol making him all the clingier.

You pout your lips, “That certainly would be an easy way to tie up all our problems.”

“Hey…” Hoseok drags out your name in a wheedling tone, “You never did let me kiss you…”

You turn to face him properly, hands on his shoulders, partly to steady yourself, and partly because you need someone to hold onto while Christmas drills your loneliness into your heart. In the low lights of his kitchen, Hoseok’s lips look warm and pink - a welcome escape from all the cold, and his offer is tempting, but you stop yourself:

“I want my first kiss to be with my soulmate…”

“But you’ll never know if they’re your soulmate till you kiss them.” He raises his eyebrows, as he points out the flaw in your logic, talking around a giggle. Maybe he’s more drunk than you realised. Or maybe he’s totally sober. Sometimes it’s hard to tell with Hoseok. “You’re the only friend I haven’t kissed. Don’t you feel a little left out?”

You roll your eyes. “If I really am your soulmate, I’ll be angry that you’ve been going around kissing all your friends before you reached me.”

“Would you be jealous?”

You nod your head. “Of course. I want my soulmate’s kiss with me to be their first.”

This makes Hoseok laugh. “You have very high standards for your poor soulmate! That’s probably why they haven’t shown up yet… they’re too scared.”

“Ouch,” you clutch at your chest, feigning pain, “You’re making me seem so cold and heartless, Hoseok!”

“It’s okay… I know you’re not. In the end, you just want love.”

As he talks, his lips get closer, closer. Whether that was your decision, or his you’re not really sure…

“Don’t we all want love?” you ask, so close now, breathing the same air as him. Maybe you should let him kiss you, just to be sure. Cross the space between the two of you, and give up your resolve for the physical comfort he offers.

But then he’s pushing you away, snapping you from your daze as he cries, “Ah, you’re making us sound so pathetic! This just won’t do!” He takes a few paces from you, then a few paces back, all while worrying his hair with restless fingers. “We ‘re not going to spend the holidays alone and sad. I won’t allow it!”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” You throw your hands up, mirroring his dramatic performance, over exaggerating all your emotions as he begins to bounce up and down on his toes.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” He punctuates each sentence with a bounce. Watching him moving around in frustration is making you feel slightly motion sick. “We’ve just got to do something fun! Get our friends off our backs for the holidays…” He stops bouncing suddenly, and in his silence, you see an idea sliding into his head, eyes illuminating from the inside, like Christmas lights.

You have a bad feeling about this. “What?”

He stays unnaturally still, and you watch him with increasing curiosity, not to mention a sense of dread prickling along your skin. “Hoseok. What is it?” You poke him in the shoulder, and his eyes finally focus back on you.

He grins widely, mouth stretching into the shape of a heart as he grabs you by the shoulders, and spins you around. “I’ve got it!”

“Got what?”

“If fate is too lazy to try and tie up our endings neatly, then we’ll just write our own story.”

Your brows furrow at his words, until he grabs a sharpie pen lying on his table, and tugs at your arm, pulling up the sleeve of your jumper to expose the bare skin beneath. With his tongue poking out in concentration, he carefully writes his name on your skin, and you finally understand.

“There,” he pulls back to admire his handiwork, “Do you think that will keep our friends happy for a while?”

This has bad idea written all over it, as bold and sloppy as Hoseok’s writing. And yet… the thought of spending the holidays with him, being able to take part in all the Christmas couple’s activities that are closed off to you, having someone to hold in the cold - it seems nice. But even in your slightly groggy, alcohol-fogged state you can spot the flaws.

“What will we tell our friends after Christmas? What will happen if our soulmates actually show up? What if…”

He presses a finger to your lips. “After Christmas we just tell our friends that the names faded… It’s happened before. People sometimes have such intense feelings for someone that a name will appear temporarily on their wrist, only to disappear when the crush dies away, and they discover their true soulmate. And as for our real soulmates… well… fate has a funny way of working, right? It won’t let love get away from us just because we’re a little impatient. So trust it. And trust me. We’re going to enjoy the holidays, okay?”

You think it through, aware that you shouldn’t do this, but desperate enough to try it. So, despite all the warnings ringing in your head, you give in, and murmur, “Okay.”

And at that, Hoseok grins, and leans in to press his lips to your own.

Before you can even register the feeling of his warm mouth against yours, he’s pulling away, laughing at your flushed face.

“Sorry, just had to check before we go through with this.” He hands you the sharpie before pulling up his own sleeve, and holding out his wrist, still blank, “Would you do me the honours?”

Shaking your head at him, and swearing you’ll get your revenge for stealing your first kiss, which you saved for your soulmate, you carefully write your own name on his skin, just above the veins flowing back to his heart – a supposed reminder that soulmates will forever be what your heart longs for.

You can’t help but feel a little disappointed that nothing showed up on your skin when he kissed you. Fate really isn’t that kind, and you know once Christmas is over, and you and Hoseok let go of your shared lie, Hoseok is going to end up kissing a stranger and have their name show up on his skin, and you’ll be left alone. No matter how much your friends promise they won’t forget you, being caught up in their own love lives keeps them distracted, distancing themselves after the name of their soulmate burns into their skin. It’s nice to have Hoseok to yourself, just for the few weeks leading up to Christmas. You should make the most of it, before fate takes him from you.

Letting go of his hand, you admire your handiwork while he holds it out to look at, and then smiles wistfully. “It’s kind of nice…” he says, “You know… to have someone else’s mark on me.”

Your both stare at the ink on his wrist – a cheap attempt to create the marking that appears embedded on the bodies of those with true soulmates, under the skin, a part of the fabric that makes them. All you can give Hoseok is a surface level stain. For now, it will do.

♡♡♡

You wake up, cosy in your own bed, extra blankets draped around you to fight off the December cold, and stretch your arms up to the ceiling, moaning into a yawn before you pull your hand down again to rub the sleep from your eyes, and notice the black ink on your wrist.

You sit up, and stare down at the name printed on your skin, wondering if you’re still dreaming, until the cogs of your brain kick into gear and you remember all that happened last night, noticing Hoseok’s messy penmanship, and how the ink is already rubbing off. So no soulmate, just a mate who’s intent on stealing your soul as he leads you into his lie, dragging you down by encouraging you that the worst ideas are the best. He could probably lead you into Hell and you’d let him, if he kept on smiling while doing it, bright and cheery.

Still foggy with sleep, you stand up and drag yourself to the bathroom, hoping a shower will clear your head and get you fresh and ready for the day ahead. After planning with Mina and the rest of your friends, the whole week leading up to Christmas is packed, all of you wanting to make the most of your free days before work rears its ugly head again. As the warm water floods over you, and your nose fills with the scent of strawberry shampoo, you try to remember what your friends had planned for today: in the morning it’s decorating Mina’s house for the party later in the week, and then the evening is set out for a meal at a restaurant. You grin to yourself as you remember that you and Hoseok will finally be able to get into the discounted soulmate suite for dinner. You’ve only ever heard of it from your friends, but it’s supposed to be very fancy, not to mention romantic, set out as a place for couples who’ve already found each other, while the soulmate-less are left still searching.

Stepping out of the shower, you check your wrist again to see that the ink has started bleeding away. Drying yourself off and throwing on jeans and a sweater, you search your room for a pen, and carefully go over the letters Hoseok lined out for you last night in black ink. Stretching out your arm, wrist extended, you check your handiwork. As long as no one looks closely, it could certainly pass for a soulmate mark. You’ll just have to make sure that your friends don’t examine it too carefully.

By your bedside, your phone vibrates, and you dart across to read the latest message.

It’s Hoseok, writing: “So are we telling our friends the good news today, or what?” followed by a long string of emojis, laughing, crying, looking shocked, and then a lot of hearts. He has a habit of throwing all possible emotions into a message until you have no idea what he’s actually feeling. You’ve got used to his odd style of texting by now, so rather than asking if he sat on his phone before sending, you simply reply with: “I don’t see why not? We’ll be able to get into the soulmate suite in the restaurant tonight this way!”

You wait while the three dots appear, showing he’s replying, before another string of emojis appears, and then in all caps, “OH YEAH! YOUR RIGHT! IM SO EXCITED TO SEE IT!!!”

You fight the urge to correct his ‘your’ to ‘you’re’, and answer, “Yeah! I’m leaving now, so I’ll see you there!”

Hoseok then proceeds to spam your chat with stickers, and you head out the door with your phone still vibrating in your pocket. You should mute him at this rate. But the smile playing on your lips tells you that you won’t.

♡♡♡

You arrive at Mina’s house at the same time Hoseok does, and he laughs a cloud of frozen fog when he sees you. “Great timing! It’s almost like we planned it!” He finger guns at you, and you can’t help but grin, before asking:

“So, how do we go about breaking the news?”

He purses his lips, dimples deepening as he thinks, “I don’t really know. How would we respond if this was actually happening?”

“You’d probably scream.” You say it in such a dead-pan tone that Hoseok stops halfway through going to push the doorbell, and turns back to you with his lower lip jutting out:

“I wouldn’t!”

“I’m just joking,” you poke his pouty face, pushing up one corner of his mouth to force a smile, “You’d cry, wouldn’t you?”

“So would you!”

“Then do we turn on the water-works when we tell them?” you ask, “How good are your fake tears?”

Hoseok pulls a face akin to distress, and puts a fist to his mouth, with over exaggerated sobs. “I’m just so surprised I finally met my soulmate… I never thought this day would come… but why did fate have to assign me such a horrible soulmate?” He turns his head away, pulling up a hand to cover his non-existent tears, while you grab his fingers, to pull them away from his face, where he hides a smile.

“Hey! You would be lucky to have me as a soulmate!”

He gives up on the facade of crying to bop your nose gently with a finger. “I know.”

You let go of his hand, and both seem to come to the realisation that you’ve been standing on the porch a bit too long. Hoseok presses on the doorbell, while you say, “We’ll just tell them that we ended up kissing last night, and that the names showed up. Maybe we’ll cry a little, but only if the mood calls for it. Just… try to be convincing.”

You can’t continue to brief him as the door is being flung open and Mina is careening into your arms, yelling “Hello!”. As an afterthought, Hoseok squeezes his hand into yours and gives your fingers a press as Mina leads you inside.

The decoration has already started in the living room, with a wreath of holly on the doorframe, and Yoongi frowning at the unassembled parts of a fake Christmas tree. He’s become a victim of the festive spirit, as somebody, probably Mina, has stuck a crown of tinsel on his head, which he’s bearing with surprising grace.

As Mina leads you over to the box of decorations that still needs to be sorted, she keeps rattling on about what all that needs to be done, and how stressful Christmas can be, while Soomi and Namjoon try to untangle Christmas lights in the corner. And then, slowly, silence settles around the room, as each of your friends notice your hand threaded through Hoseok’s.

Mina keeps on rambling, pulling out a few ornaments, inspecting them, before she turns back to you, sensing the odd atmosphere of the room, and notices you and Hoseok’s closeness. And then her eyes fall to your wrist, where Hoseok’s writing peeks out under your sleeve.

The ornament she’s holding falls to the floor with a smash. But she doesn’t seem to notice or care, just covers her gaping mouth with her hand. You realise she’s crying.

Before you can open your lips and say anything, she throws herself at you. “I knew this day would come!” Her arms tangle around your neck, and then you feel Soomi’s arms around your waist on the other side, Hoseok being crushed closer to you as Namjoon joins the group hug, and soon you’re in the middle of a human sandwich, finding it difficult to breath. In the wave of emotions flowing through your friends, you almost get caught up in it, your eyes stinging. You try to latch onto that feeling, hoping it will make your story all the more convincing.

At last your friends let you go, and Mina pulls up your sleeve to inspect the writing. Panicking over the sloppiness of your attempt to recreate a soulmate mark, you pull back your hand quickly, and when her eyebrows furrow in concern, you quickly explain, “Sorry. My wrist still kind of stings.”

“Oh, of course!” she says, “It’s been so long since Yoongi’s name imprinted on my skin I forgot that it kind of actually hurts when you first get it!”

Your chest heaves in relief, managing to keep the interest away from the feigned marks, supposed to bind you to Hoseok. With his hand still laced in yours, you feel his fingers press as a way to say well done for covering so well. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch his lips quirking up, amused by how well you lie.

“So…” Mina takes you by the elbow, leading you over to the sofa. On the other side of the room, the rubble from the dropped ornament lies forgotten for later. What your friends want to know is, “Tell us exactly how it happened!”

Four eager pairs of eyes light on you and Hoseok, and with a glance at him, you launch into a dumbed down version of last night, explaining the walk under the stars, the drinking, the decision to try kissing. You, of course, exclude the part where you wrote your names on each other, substituting in some rubbish about feeling a glowing below your skin when your lips connected, about your wrists stinging, and looking down to see your marks on each other, left there for what your friends believe will be forever. For not having much time to prepare your story, you’re impressed with how well the two of you manage to pull off the tale. It was a good idea to stick closely to the truth, and even though you and Hoseok aren’t really soulmates, you decide that you definitely make good partners in crime.

♡♡♡

So the rest of the day is planned out ahead of you, with decorating and prepping for your visit to the restaurant in the evening, plus a few celebratory glasses of champagne for your and Hoseok’s sake.

“We’ll finally be able to get into the soulmate suite together,” Mina sighs happily, as she slots another few cards into a card holder in the shape of a Christmas tree.

The boys are out of the room, warded off as Mina and Soomi claimed that they needed some time alone with you to get all the juicy details, and more importantly, to squeal over how cute you and Hoseok are. You try to fight back the biting annoyance that it took you finding a (fake) soulmate to finally get back with your old friends again. No matter how much they try to include you in their activities, it always ends up that you’re left out from their conversations, unable to complain about how your non-existent sweetheart forgot to do the dishes last night, or how you’re not sure if you have enough money saved up for a couples retreat together. You’re aware it’s not your friends’ fault - finding a soulmate tends to cloud judgement, everything turns to sweet mist, until there’s nothing that you want to talk about but your other half, tied to your side by fate’s red string. It feels nice to have the two girls to yourself, even if it took an inked name to get them back. Despite yourself, you get swept up in the romance of your own fabricated story, almost believing it as you recount it again.

“I always knew it would be Hoseok for you,” Soomi says, her task of organising a box of mixed up decorations forgotten as she smiles over at you, eyes glazed by images of sugar coated love and kisses between you and Hoseok, “Before I got together with Namjoon, I always worried that you two would get paired up and leave me as one of the last soulmate-less ones in our group.” She laughs at herself - looking back on her fears seems daft now, knowing the steady relationship she has with Namjoon. Their dates, visiting old-fashioned bookstores and peaceful museums seems close to idyllic. You’re surprised to hear her earlier concerns. Namjoon with his deep-cut dimples, and Soomi with her unruly curls, and bright blue eyeliner on her lashes, seem completely inseparable now. It’s strange that she somehow thought:

“Hoseok and me? You really believed we would end up together?” you ask, curiosity bubbling in your veins. Why does she think you and Hoseok are a good match? What is she seeing there? You certainly don’t see it, whatever it is. After all, Hoseok is a good friend, but he’s only that out of necessity, with you both on the outside of your friendship group, the last to be paired off by the hand of fate.

Soomi shrugs her shoulders, long earrings jangling as she shakes her head in defeat. “I don’t know… you just seem good for each other. Hoseok always manages to lift your spirits, while you keep him grounded. And you’re constantly teasing and flirting with each other. It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Flirting?” Your cheeks turn crimson, and your friends begin giggling.

“Ah, you’re so cute!” Mina grins, “It’s okay to flirt with him, you know! You’re soulmates after all! No point in denying it!”

Soomi begins to put on an affected version of your accent, saying “Oh, Hoseok, stop, you’re being far too loud! You’ll give us all a headache!” As she speaks, she swats at an imagined Hoseok.

Mina picks up on the act, “Hoseok! It’s super cold this evening. Let’s huddle closer to keep warm!”

You open and close your mouth, wanting desperately to deny all this, yet knowing that doing so would blow a massive hole in your cover. And even as you think about it, your brain flies back to earlier this morning, when you and Hoseok teased each other on the porch. There’s certainly a lot of touching between the two of you, but that’s just you being friendly. Hoseok is so clingy, he shows affection with little taps and light presses of his finger to remind you that he cares. And he does it with everyone, not just you - it’s only natural that you reciprocate. But you can’t explain this to your friends, can’t make a case for your innocence, so your just let your blush settle in, and, rather gruffly, reply, “All right. That’s enough.”

Mina chuckles, “Sorry. It’s just too cute! I’m glad you’re happy.” She sets down the cards she’s sorting, and leans across the table to pat you on the arm. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

Did she pick up on your irritation at being teased? You quickly push your smile a little further, your cheeks beginning to hurt from the act. “Yeah! Of course… I’m just… shocked is all.” You hope you’ve convinced her as she pulls away again.

“Yeah, it can be overwhelming at first,” Soomi says, nodding sympathetically, “I remember the first few days after Namjoon’s name showed up on my skin were all just a whirlwind of phoning relatives and friends, and trying to organise a new life with him.”

“Oh, yeah! How did your parents take it?” Mina asks, frowning over her pile of Christmas cards, “I’m sure they’re glad you’ve finally found someone.”

“Ah-” her question catches you off guard. This lie was supposed to stay among your friends. You hadn’t cast a single thought to your parents, now living a long drive away. They would most certainly be happy to know if you were paired off - it seemed to be the only thing they care about when you do call them, asking if there’s anyone special in your life, insisting that you should try to be more active in finding a soulmate. You know you’re a disappointment to them, never giving them a promise of grandchildren to continue on the family name. Thinking of them now has your arteries tightening, blood pressure rising. There’s a reason you don’t call often. “They were – yeah – they were happy,” you say, brain tumbling over itself. You add in a forced laugh, “At least now they won’t be on my back all the time, asking me when they can expect news of a son-in-law.” At your own insinuation, your blush deepens, and your friends look at each other knowingly.

“What about living arrangements?” Soomi asks, “You and Hoseok live close to each other, so it won’t be too much trouble to move into his house, right?”

The questions keep getting worse, and your mushed up brain can barely process each turn that the conversation takes, leading you deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole. At this rate you’ll expose yourself, and you just pray the boys will get bored, and burst back in, asking Mina how she wants the tree to be decorated, or if she wants them to run to the store for more Christmas cookies.

“Well…” you mumble, willing your brain to kick into gear, “I think… it’s a bit early for that.”

“But you’ve known each other for so long,” Soomi says, “Moving in together wouldn’t be that weird, you practically live together any way with the amount of time you spend at each other’s houses!”

Busy sorting Christmas cards, Mina stays quiet, brow furrowed.

“We’re going to think about it once Christmas is over,” you say, a lie finally falling into your mind, “It would just be a bit too much to think about moving right now, since we’re so busy.”

Satisfied with your answer, Soomi drop the questions, and you let yourself relax, glancing over at Mina, who’s still concentrating on her card display. Sensing your gaze on her, she looks up to flash you a distracted smile, but there’s something in her eyes that sets you on edge, and you know you’ll need to make your story more convincing if you want to keep her from pressing you further.

♡♡♡

“What do you think?” you ask, stepping out of Mina’s bathroom that evening, and giving a twirl to let your friends see your outfit. Saying you didn’t have much clothing appropriate for dating, Mina had insisted that you borrow some of hers for your trip to the restaurant. The sparkling silver jumper tucked into black skinny-jeans feels odd on, and the high heels are one size too small, but your friends clasped hands and showered complements are enough to convince you that it looks good.

“Hoseok’s going to be gob-smacked when he sees you,” Mina coos, taking you by the shoulders and spinning you around again.

Just then you hear Namjoon shouting up the stairs, “Any time tonight guys.”

Soomi leans over the banister to call, “We’re coming!” while Mina pushes you after your friend.

Downstairs, the boys are waiting for you, dressed up for tonight. Your breath catches in your throat when you see Hoseok. His hair has been pushed off his forehead, and he’s wearing a plain white dress shirt, tucked into black trousers. Unlike the other men, he hadn’t gone for a tie, instead wearing his top button undone to show the tanned skin below. He looks good, and the thought of him being your date tonight suddenly sends a shiver down your spine. People are bound to realise that you’re faking when they see such an otherworldly man strung through the arm of someone as plain as you.

Pulling at your sleeves self-consciously, you descend the stairs and take Hoseok’s waiting hand. “You look gorgeous,” he murmurs, and despite knowing it’s an act, you can’t help but blush.

“You too.” You wish you were lying.

Rather than laughing it off like he does with most compliments, Hoseok ducks his head to the floor bashfully, with a mumbled, “Thanks.” You’re surprised at how good his acting is.

“Ready to go?” Namjoon asks, and with a nod, your group makes their way out into the cold. The restaurant is only a couple of streets away, but the air is nippy, and even with your choice of a long-sleeved sweater, the cold bites through you. Noticing your chattering teeth, Hoseok pulls you close to his side, arm threading around your waist, while he guides your hand to the small of his back, below his blazer. Telling yourself that your red face is due to the cold, and not his proximity, you make your way to the restaurant in relative silence, listening in to your friends’ excited chatter, rather than trying to say anything to Hoseok. This close, you feel strangely shy around him.

At last the restaurant appears ahead of you, and under your touch, you can feel Hoseok’s steps becoming bouncier as you draw close. He turns to you with a bright smile and sparkling eyes. “Finally, we get to see how the more fortunate live,” he whispers to you, and you can’t help but chuckle at your shared secret, exhilarated at the prospect of seeing an area that’s been denied to you for so long, all because you were missing a soulmate.

“What are you two giggling about?” Mina throws you a knowing grin, like she doesn’t need to ask, and your blushing face gives her exactly the answer that she wants.

“Nothing!”

“Okay,” she raises her eyebrows at you, “Nothing.”

Namjoon pushes open the doors for you, and you are grateful to step out of the cold into the noisy heat of the restaurant. You eye the stairs that lead down to the section of the restaurant where the soulmate-less eat, glad that you won’t be cordoned off to that area this year. The soulmate-less basement isn’t unpleasant, in fact it’s nice - filled with neon lights, it has a bar along with the booths for eating, and a pool table and arcade games to encourage you to interact with strangers and maybe meet your soulmate. But you’re tired of going down there, of constantly having desperate men calling you to come and chat with them, insisting that you must be their soulmate. Getting to go upstairs instead is a welcome break from all that. But as your friends ask for a table for six, you suddenly grow nervous. What if the waiter checking wrists will be able to tell that your soulmate mark isn’t legitimate? You grab Hoseok’s shirt a little tighter, and his hand on your waist responds with a reassuring press.

Your friends go ahead with the waiter waving them on, and your heart flees to your throat as you pull up your sleeve to show off the writing beneath. You hold your breath, expecting the worst, so much so, that you blink in confusion when the waiter says, “On you go. Table’s on the right, over there.”

You turn back to flash Hoseok an excited grin as he follows behind, and the two of you follow the rest of your friends upstairs. You can’t help but gape as you reach the top, to take in the view you’ve dreamed of for years. Finally, you know what the soulmate suite looks like. The floor is wooden, walls and ceiling white, and the whole area has a light and airy feel, with a wide-paned window looking out on the twinkling lights of your town. The tables are laid out with rose petals at each place, candles flickering to fill the space with a warm glow.

Most of the tables seat couples, but there are a few tables with bigger groups, where people are double or triple dating.

Overcome with the whole experience, you still can’t keep your gaping mouth shut as you sit down, Hoseok taking the spot opposite you. In the candle light his eyes look darker than usual, deep and daunting, to draw you in, like whirlpools in a black ocean. You’re convinced the owners of the restaurant must pump chemicals into the air to make couples extra gooey while they’re here. That can be the only explanation for the strange tug you feel in your chest at this moment.

With the first bottle of red wine being passed down the table, you let yourself get caught up in the intoxicating experience, feeling the warm burn of the burgundy alcohol slipping down your throat to heat up your chest and heart.

Past his menu, Hoseok keeps raising his eyebrows at you, looking as excited as you feel to finally see the suite you’ve heard so much about. Every time his eyes dart your way, he adds to the warmth in your heart and your belly, mixing up the alcoholic exhilaration that pulls your lips to a smile, and closes your eyes to the pleasure of the happy bubble surrounding you.

With the starters coming and going, then the main course, and then desert, you keep up with the chatter, feeling a low blanket of enjoyment come down to muffle out all the bad in your life, at least temporarily. In the low lighting, you can almost believe in the story you and Hoseok have created, a wonderful romance between two good friends. After all, you do love him, platonically maybe, but it’s still love, and the fiction of falling into something else with him isn’t too far a stretch. With his hand reaching over the table to hold yours, slender fingers threading through your spaces for the sake of a show, while his feet accidentally brush your leg under the table, each time with a small crack in your pretend love, with an embarrassed smile, with all these feelings, you get caught up, let your heart free from the cage in your chest, pinning it to your sleeve instead. Looking at Hoseok, watching the rise and fall of his throat as he speaks, brown eyes cascading stars, and dimples cutting into his face, you sense a wobble in your heart, only fleeting, but present nonetheless. Like a glitch in your chest that rights itself quickly.

You decide that the restaurant must be drugging everyone here, doped on love chemicals to make you forget your name and your face.

Because there’s no other explanation for this odd tightness in your heart.

Before you can consider the consequences of this sensation, beside you, Namjoon, who’s getting too excited in a story he’s telling, fails his hands and knocks over his glass of wine. Burgundy splashes onto the light silver sleeve of your borrowed jumper.

“Oh no!” He holds his hands out of the danger zone so he can do no more harm.

It’s enough to snap you out of the trance this restaurant has put you under, and you quickly grab a few napkins, trying to dab at the spillage before any more wine can drip onto the floor.

Hoseok reaches spare napkins across to you, while Namjoon keeps mumbling, “I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine,” you soothe, shooting a thankful smile to Hoseok as you take his offering of napkins, before returning to mopping up.

Mina stands, quickly taking you by the hand, “Why don’t we go to the bathrooms to get it washed off?” she suggests, and you let her lead you away.

In the blue lights of the bathroom, you feel yourself snap free from the mind melting effects of the alcohol and Hoseok’s warm eyes on your own, the smell of soap and bleach clearing your head.

Mina pulls you over to the sink, grabbing a few paper towels from the side, and wetting them under the tap. She begins to daub at the damage on your sleeve, knitting her brows as she concentrates.

“Sorry tonight had to end like this for you,” she chuckles.

“It’s no big deal,” you shrug. With your sobered mind, away from the hazy romance of the restaurant, you notice that Mina is holding the wrist that bears Hoseok’s name awfully close to the sink, and you begin to get anxious as water drips down your sleeve. How long can the ink hold to your skin before it starts washing off?

“I just feel bad that your first night out with Hoseok was ruined,” Mina explains as she presses with the damp paper, trying to soak up what red wine she can, “You looked so happy together until you got distracted...” She pushes up your sleeve try and clean any wine that might have splashed onto your skin, and below her fingers you see the smudged name of ‘Jung Hoseok’ blending off in black on her fingers, writing out your doom.

You quickly snatch your hand away, muttering, “It still hurts,” but her eyes are already going wide. She looks to the ink on her fingers, and then grabs your arm back again, yanking your sleeve up fully to expose the worn letters.

There’s no way to explain yourself.

“What’s this?” she runs her finger across the wet ink, smearing it on your skin in a condemning trail. Her eyes jump to yours, full of accusations. “I knew it. I knew you were acting weird about this! It was far too convenient…” She lets your hand fall limply to your side.

“Mina… please…” you try to plead with her, “You can’t tell anyone else about this. Just keep it between us.”

“Why?” she crosses her arms, “Why would you do this?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” under her wounded glare you find yourself defensive, tone sharper than intended, “Maybe because Hoseok and I were tired of being left out of everything just because we don’t have soulmates? Because we’re lonely and bored and worn-out from disappointing everyone just by existing? Don’t you remember what that feels like?”

Under your venom, Mina’s anger crumbles, leaving hurt burnished on her face. “Of course I remember… and you’re right, we have been treating you and Hoseok pretty bad, but it’s hard, you know... trying to remove yourself from your soulmate once you meet them, even to spend time with friends. Still, this? This isn’t how to fix the problem.”

“Well, I know that Mina!” you throw your arms out, sleeve slipping down a little further as ink and water track weakened black down your skin, “Obviously it’s not the right thing to do. But you know, right now I don’t care…”

“And what if your soulmate comes along while you’re off pretending with Hoseok? What if you miss your chance because of this?” Mina’s eyes have slipped from hurt to worry, as the consequences of you and Hoseok’s impatience hits her.

“I don’t know, Mina…” you let your arms fall. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I’m tired of waiting, and I’m tired of being left behind, and I’m tired of my parents waiting for me to continue our family, and I’m tired of seeing every other person in the world paired off except me… and Hoseok and I are just having... fun. So please don’t ruin it for us.”

She bites her lip, then sighs. “Fine. I won’t tell the others. But I don’t think you should be doing this… acting out love with someone who isn’t your soulmate can lead to problems. Haven’t you heard of those people who get soulmate marks prematurely, only for them to fade again because they tried to force themselves to fall in love?”

You have heard of it, of those who start dating someone they knew isn’t right for them, so desperate to settle down they’ll love anyone who looks at them right, only to discover a temporary name on their wrist, that will fade painfully, leaving their skin blank and their heart empty. Stirring up feelings before fate is ready is certainly dangerous. But that’s not what’s going on with Hoseok.

“It won’t happen,” you assure Mina, “We’re just friends...”

“Then why were you giving him heart eyes over dinner?”

A warm flush sweeps over you uncomfortably, as if all your arteries have started leaking blood up to your cheeks. “I wasn’t-” you choke out, “I just – we’re acting.”

Mina doesn’t look convinced, but she hands you a couple more paper towels, dropping the subject with a final, “Just be careful, okay?” She leaves the bathroom, letting you clean up the rest of the wine by yourself, carefully wiping the stipes of ink off your arm.

When you return to the restaurant, she’s back by Yoongi’s side, laughing at a joke you missed.

You sit down with a sigh, trying to look as normal as possible, and not as if your whole plan had blown up in your face. Hoseok shoots a look across at you, furrowing his eyebrows. While the rest of the group is busy discussing how they’ll split the bill he mouths across to you, “You okay?”

You give him a small nod, before turning your attention back to the rest of the group, while Hoseok keeps his eyes on you.

You don’t have any more time to convince him that you’re okay, with the rest of the group getting up to leave. The night is over, not as successful as you had expected. It leaves you with nothing but guilt at the ink burning on your arm, and Hoseok’s hand smarting in your own, all for show.

♡♡♡

The next day is spent making cookies back at Mina’s house, but it isn’t without a sickness in your stomach that you show up on her doorstep, remembering all that went wrong yesterday, and all that could go wrong today.

Hoseok’s name on your arm has been reinforced with sharpie again, you carefully going over his letters the best you can. It still looks a little off compared to the way he writes, you own shaky hand going imperfectly over his scrawl.

You step inside to the smell of vanilla and Mina with her hands already covered in flour as she opens the door. Her greeting is awkward, remembering what you went through last night, but she still gives you a short hug, trying her best not to get flour on you in the process.

Hoseok’s already in the kitchen, helping as Namjoon tries to get the electric mixer to work, while Soomi frets that her soulmate is going to break something.

You shrug off your coat, saying hello, and Hoseok’s eyes light up as he steps across to greet you, as is expected of him. But as he comes closer, and keeps going, you realise that he’s not going to just hug you, but is planning something more. Before your brain can process what’s going on, his hands wrap around you, pulling you close, your chest pressing to his, as he bends down to pluck a kiss off your frozen lips.

Your mind is still whirring as he steps away again, murmuring, “Hi.”

You shake your fuzzy head, still trying to understand what just happened. Your eyes dart across to Mina, who’s watching Hoseok’s PDA with concern glittering in her irises, and your cheeks flush for shame.

“Don’t embarrass me in front of everyone,” you mumble to Hoseok, self-conscious, as he leads you by the sleeve of your jumper to the kitchen counter where he’s been working.

“There’s no need to be shy,” Soomi says, “You and Hoseok are completely entitled to be sappy around each other. After all, you’ve only just discovered that you’re soulmates. That must be so exciting!”

“Are you saying we’re not exciting anymore?” Namjoon accuses.

“You’re still exciting, baby,” Soomi assures him, poking his cheek with a flour covered finger, leaving a white splodge on his skin. With the group’s interest redirected towards Soomi and Namjoon, laughing at each other, you breathe a sigh of relief, given a few seconds of grace to slip out of your expected role and worry about Hoseok and the ghost of his lips on yours, still keeping your mouth tingling – because you weren’t expecting it, and not because you enjoyed it.

But as the baking continues, with Hoseok unending in his affection and affectations, reaching over you to help you get bowls off the high shelves, and wrapping his arms around you to aid with stirring when you get tired of it, you wonder how true that is. Beyond your love for Hoseok as a friend, is there something more lurking below the surface? If he kissed you again, would you mind it? And if not… where does that leave you?

With your stomach dipping, you remember your talk in the bathroom with Mina, the worry of falling in love before fate is ready to pair you up. You can’t force yourself into feelings just because you’re so starved of that kind of affection, wishing someone would touch you the way Hoseok does right now, hands resting on your waist as he hugs you from behind.

Mina’s words have probably just made you paranoid. You only like Hoseok as a friend. It’s nice being so comfortable with him, his hands on yours and his smell in your head all feeling like it’s meant to be there.

With the last of the cookies done, left out to cool so you can ice them later, your group moves back together again. But as you all head towards the living room, to hang out before whatever else is planned on your Christmas agenda, you sense a change in the atmosphere. Beside you, Hoseok is oddly quiet, and the rest of the boys seem to be on edge. Uncertainty dips in your chest as you settle down on one of the sofas, with Hoseok sitting on the floor at your feet, resting his head against your knee.

Subconsciously, you place your hand to his bright red hair, running your fingers through it to keep yourself calm, while he nestles closer.

And then Yoongi stands up, turning to Mina, and you realise why the mood has been so tense, when you see his hands behind his back, clutching a small black box.

You know what that means.

It was bound to happen eventually. Your friends have been together for so long. It’s the inevitable result. But this still feels like a stab in your stomach as you realise that another wall is being built up between you and your friends, moving on with their soulmates, while you’re being left behind.

“Mina,” Yoongi clears his throat, “I’ve been meaning to do this for a while… and I’ve been trying to think what would be the best way to go about it. I imagined all kinds of scenarios, where I’d take you to a restaurant, or the park, or somewhere else romantic, but you know that being cheesy doesn’t suit me…” he gets down on one knee, bringing out the box, “So I figured that this was the best place to do it, at home, with our friends who made us who we are today.” He opens the box to show a delicate ring, sparkling bright. “Mina, will you marry me?”

Mina gets off her seat, crouching down to look into Yoongi’s eyes as he kneels, “Of course, you sentimental idiot.” Her voice is wobbling, and you see that she’s fighting to stop herself from crying. “Of course, of course!”

Yoongi leans across to intercept her tears with a kiss, and then he’s standing, picking her up and spinning around, while the rest of your friends cheer.

“I knew you had something planned!” Soomi cries, before turning to thump Namjoon in the arm, “You knew about this and you didn’t even tell me!”

“Well it was meant to be a surprise,” Namjoon says, “You would have just told Mina!”

“Would not!”

Their bickering blends into a blur as crushing worry powers down on you. Your friends are getting married. It won’t be long before Namjoon follows suit with a proposal of his own, and then they’ll move on to thinking about children. They’ll start getting on with their lives, and slowly, more so than ever, they’ll slip from your life, too concerned with their new families. No matter how fun it is to pretend over Christmas with Hoseok, his name in ink on your wrist doesn’t solve the problem that you’re single, and getting older by the day.

You realise that you’ve been sitting with your hand frozen on Hoseok’s head, gripping a fistful of his hair. Quickly, you let go, while he turns his head to look up at you, sensing your stiffness. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, and you nod, although you don’t feel it at all.

All that’s left is a suffocating fear of your loneliness, a worry that you’ll be left by yourself as your friends forget everything but their lust and love.

As you gaze blankly, feeling nothing but a crush of panic, and Hoseok’s warm hand in yours, squeezing, trying to break you from your reverie, a bottle of wine is being opened, and a glass is being pushed into your hands, cold on your clammy skin.

In the background, outside of your head, you hear your friends celebrating, babbling about the wedding, what Mina will wear, where they’ll go for their honeymoon. And then you hear the jokes that it will only be a little longer before more happy announcements are on the way. Eyes dart over to you, seeing you with your hand still stuck in Hoseok’s, looking to those outside your head like you’re head over heels, except you’re only holding onto him, not because you love him, but because, right now, if you let go you might fade away completely, forgotten by fate.

Unable to take it anymore, you set your glass of wine down, untouched, and leave the room, telling your friends that you need the toilet. Hoseok’s hand leaves yours, and you don’t look back to see the concern on his face as you flee up the stairs, away from the heat and light and celebration. You take the stairs at a run, and fall into Mina’s room, where you’ve been so many times before, visiting for sleepovers and parties. But it’s been a long time since you’ve stayed here, now that she’s so entangled with her own soulmate.

You collapse onto her bed, no longer her bed, but her and Yoongi’s bed. The whole room feels different now. It’s a couple’s room. Yoongi’s clothes folded over the chair, his shaver in front of the mirror, and his deodorant by the bed all remind you that Mina is being snatched away, and then Soomi soon after, and you’ll be all by yourself.

Despite their promises to stay close when the names appeared on their wrists, you should have known better than to believe them. The blinding pull of destiny is too strong to resist, and they’ve gone down the path all soulmates go down eventually, forgetting the soulmate-less who need them.

You throw your arms over your eyes, blocking out Mina’s room, not hers anymore, and hope to block out all the thoughts with it. But in the dark of your closed eyes, your worries are louder than ever.

You hear the door opening, and glance up quickly, worried you’ve been caught moping on a day when you should be happy. But it’s only Hoseok, stepping in with a hesitant smile.

“Hi,” he whispers, voice husky.

One of the great things about Hoseok is his ability to sense what you need, and switch moods accordingly. When you need him warm and bright, he’ll be that. When you need him loud and comic, he’ll be that. And at moments like this, when you need him quiet, he’ll be that as well.

“Hi,” you reply, leaning back down on the bed again.

He lies down on the space beside you, you feel the mattress shift below him.

Glancing across, you see him staring up at the ceiling with his red hair falling off his forehead, expression neutral. You turn your attention back to the ceiling as well, as if there’s a story scribbled up there that you find incredibly interesting.

At last, Hoseok’s voice cracks the quiet settled around you. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” You give him the honest answer.

He doesn’t respond, only turns his head to watch you; you can feel his eyes on you from the corner of your vision.

“Seeing Yoongi and Mina finally making plans to get married just made me remember that no matter how fun this is…” you wave at the space between you, at your agreement to enjoy Christmas together, “It’ll never be a replacement for finding our soulmates. I feel as if I’m just on standby, waiting for love to come to me…”

Hoseok’s chest heaves up and down in a sigh, and by your side your feel his fingers brush against yours. “I know… I’m sorry that I’m not able to take those feelings away from you.” He gives a half laugh, huffing through his nose. “If it was up to me, if I had fate in my hands, I would have paired you up long ago, and kept you from all this hurt. Sometimes I really do think that you and I would make good soulmates for each other… that would be a neat tie up for it all, wouldn’t it? No pain for us, and none of the excruciating waiting… but I know that my writing on your arm can’t take any of this away from you, and I’m sorry for it.”

You sit up to look down at him. “No, Hoseok. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. It’s not your fault. And, I’m being incredibly selfish, because obviously you must be finding this difficult as well… so I’m sorry too…”

He smiles up at you, sadness slipping into his face, filling his sparkling eyes and tipping his lips, “This sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Completely.”

With a “hup” he pulls himself to sit up as well, “What do you say we go out for a little bit? Some fresh air might help you feel better.”

“What about Mina and Yoongi?” you say, “Won’t it be weird if we just leave while we should be celebrating?”

Hoseok shrugs as he stands up, fixing his shirt that had ridden up while he lay. “In their eyes we’re new soulmates. If we slip off for some alone time they’re not going to mind…”

He’s probably right. And a break from the atmosphere downstairs sounds incredibly tempting.

“Alright!” you hold out your hands to him, letting him pull you up from the bed, and lead you downstairs to grab your coat and scarf before you sneak out the door, and into the fresh December cold.

It’s at that stage of late afternoon, when, with the sun going down soon, it feels more like early evening. The colours are softer outside, like you’re viewing them through bleary eyes, but no matter how often you blink, they still feel washed out and weak. The sky above your head in covered with blushed-grey clouds, with a few streaks of pink by the horizon.

As you take the steps down from Mina and Yoongi’s house to the pavement, Hoseok threads his hand in yours, fingers red in the cold.

“We don’t have to pretend to be a couple anymore,” you remind him, but he simply responds with:

“I know. But my hands are cold,” so you keep your fingers intertwined with his as you walk.

Walking down the winding path of your development, you and Hoseok admire your neighbours’ decorating jobs, drinking up the flashing lights and strings of tinsel that brighten the street, all while the sky is slowly drained from pink to red through to purple.

Away from Mina’s house you finally relax. Hoseok knows just how to make you feel better, and you wonder at his words in Mina’s bedroom earlier - how he was sorry that he couldn’t be your soulmate. You feel a pull in your chest; having Hoseok as a soulmate certainly wouldn’t be bad, he knows you well enough, your personalities blending nicely. Was fate lazy for not sticking you together? Or does it mean that there’s someone better waiting in your future?

Whatever the reason, you’re still glad that Hoseok is in your life, happy as long as you’re by his side, smiling as he jokes for you, shouting complaints about how cold it is, and puffing up his frozen pink cheeks.

By his side, all worries dissolve from your mind, like sugar in hot tea, until you can’t quite remember why you were so upset in the first place.

With Hoseok’s hand still stuck in your hold, you thread your way through the development and over the bridge leading into town, just as the orange of the streetlamps begin to flicker on.

“Hey, look!” Hoseok points up the town street, to the tall Christmas tree right at the top, a black shape before you, still unlit, “They haven’t turned on the lights yet.”

“That means…” you turn your eyes to him, seeing a smile break across his face:

“We’re just in time to see them getting switched on!” With a tug on your hand, he pulls you up the street, puffs of breath billowing from his grinning mouth as he runs.

You laugh as he leads you, caught up in his enjoyment, enjoying it yourself. Just as you reach the top of the street, the lights of the Christmas tree begin to switch on, and you stop to stare up as the glowing points spark up, beginning at the top with the star, and twisting their way down to the base, like a wave of light that brightens up the dull dark of a December afternoon, creeping into evening. From the base of the tree, the lights spread out across town, lamps by the shops flickering on in a chain reaction of rainbow colours. You turn to Hoseok, seeing the reds and blues and greens reflected in his eyes, dancing with wonder, and you can’t help but mirror his smile, infected by his laughter.

“Feeling better?” he asks you, and you nod, giving his hand a squeeze. You can barely remember why you were upset in the first place.

“Shall we go back then?” You’re aware that you’ve been gone a long time, far too long, and your friends might start to get suspicious. Your mind flies back to Mina. What will she be thinking, worrying about you alone with Hoseok while she knows the truth behind the mark on your wrist?

Hoseok’s smile slips a little, but he nods his head. “I’d almost forgotten we needed to go back,” he laughs at himself, while you steer him away from the lights of the tree, heading back for the path leading to your development.

You both fall strangely silent on the return journey, your mind filled with what you’ll have to cope with once you go back. Hoseok’s mind is busy as well, although with what, you don’t know.

At the steps leading up to Mina’s house, the lights all on and your friends’ laugher spilling out onto the street, Hoseok turns you to him, holding both of your hands in front of him, “Are you going to be okay?”

You nod your head, putting on a smile to convince him.

“Are you sure?”

You nod again, and Hoseok smiles, softly say, “Okay. Just checking,” before you both go into the house again.

“There you are!” Soomi pokes her head out of the kitchen, “We were wondering where you two love birds went.” Her eyes sparkle, imagining all the romantic situations you and Hoseok most certainly didn’t get into while you were gone.

“We just went for a walk,” Hoseok says, shrugging off his coat, “With all the excitement of the past few days, we both just wanted to take some time out to take things slow.”

“You? Take things slow?” Soomi leans on the doorframe shaking her head of curly hair, “I don’t believe it!” Her eyes dance across to you, “What have you done to him?”

You hold up your hands in defeat, “I don’t know… maybe Hoseok’s finally matured after finding himself a soulmate!”

“Hey, I was perfectly mature before then!” Hoseok complains, lifting his leg to pretend to kick you, “Don’t be rude!”

“Oh, sorry, Hoseok!” you laugh, pulling him into a hug where his flailing limbs can do you no damage. Right now, you’re not even sure what’s acting for you, and what’s natural.

Still, Soomi’s grinning at you as you head to the kitchen, like she’s holding a secret. It’s a smile that tells you she understands exactly what it’s like to be freshly in love with your soulmate, but she has no idea…

Inside the kitchen, the rest of your friends are decorating the cookies you baked earlier, with the boys trying to figure out the instructions for constructing a gingerbread house.

Hoseok grabs over Mina’s shoulder to get a cookie with icing still wet. “Hey, no!” she calls to him, but it’s too late, it’s already in his mouth, biting off a corner with eyes widening at her, “It’s good! Here, try some.” He holds out the rest to you, offering a bite, and despite Mina’s insisting that the cookies need to be saved for later, you really can’t say no, since this one can’t be rescued from Hoseok’s bite-marks anyway.

You lean over, and let him feed you a corner, biting off from his fingers and letting the taste of vanilla sweep across your tongue. Hoseok smiles at you, as you copy his wide-eyed expression: “Woah! It is really good!”

“Told you!” he sing songs, before reaching over again to give you another bite, which you happily take, until he smears the icing across your mouth, and pulls back laughing at the damage he’s done.

“Hoseok!” you can’t stay angry with him, wiping off the mess with your fingers and poking his cheeks to leave streaks across his face in strawberry red and apple green. He reaches a hand to the smeared icing, acting shocked, with his mouth open, before grabbing your hand, still covered in the cookie residue, and bringing your fingers to his mouth, he removes the last traces with his tongue.

“Ew, Hoseok, gross!” you complain, pulling your hand away from him to wipe the remains on his shirt, “Now your spit is all over my fingers.”

You notice now that most of your friends have paused what they’re doing to sneak curious glances your way, watching you and Hoseok’s display of… what… what is this? Flirting? Romance between soulmates? Or just teasing with a good friend?

“Why are you complaining about that?” Hoseok raises his eyebrows, “My spit was in your mouth when we kissed!”

“Gross!” you smack him on his arm, while he keeps on laughing, poking a finger to your burning cheeks.

“Sorry. Sorry.”

You bat his hand away, but can’t help but smile.

It’s only later that you realise that Hoseok’s display has completely distracted you from the ring shining on Mina’s finger, and the worries sliding into your head.

♡♡♡

The day after is free from Mina’s frantic schedule, left to spend some time relaxing, or in your case, doing some hectic last minute Christmas shopping. All while you know that your friends will be off doing things as couples, taking the opportunity to spend some quality time with their soulmates.

As you step out into the cold, with your keys in hand, and your scarf wrapped around you to block out the cold, you find your feet turning towards Hoseok’s house, just a little bit away from yours.

Your legs lead you up his drive, knocking on his door before you can stop yourself, and you are greeted by his tired face, obviously only just awake, with messed up hair and bleary eyes.

“Oh, hi…” His voice is an octave deeper, clouded by sleep, as he rubs his eyes with a fist, “What’s up?”

You fidget on his doorstep, not entirely sure what brought you here. It’s scary how reliant you’ve become on the sunshine he offers you. Blushing at your own weakness, you search for a suitable excuse, clutching at your scarf. “Um… I was going to go into town to do some Christmas shopping… and… I need you to help me carry all the bags… so I didn’t want to go by myself...”

He chuckles, reaching out a finger to pinch your cheek. “Ah, you missed me, did you? So cute. You can just say that you don’t want to be lonely, you know? There’s no shame in it.”

“Alright, fine! I’ll be lonely without you,” you say, sending a scowl his way, which only makes him laugh louder, before he answers:

“Okay, just give me a second to put on shoes.”

That’s how you find yourself heading into town, with Hoseok by your side, his arm around you to fight off the cold, as he complains about the bitter wind.

It feels good to be out with him, acting as you always did, without your friends around to wonder at the way you treat each other, letting him be super clingy, laughing at his jokes, and lapping up the warmth he offers. But you sense that there’s something different now. Maybe it’s all a side effect of the act you’ve put on around your friends, being sure to flirt obviously and love deeply, with extra feeling, handholding, and kissing, which is completely new. You aren’t sure how you feel about the kisses, which Hoseok seems to be quite liberal in giving.

You try to shake these thoughts from your mind as you head to the mall, glad to be inside the doors where the heaters rush hot air towards you, and you can disentangle yourself from Hoseok, getting rid of the warmth rising in your face. Today is a day with just you and him, and you’re going to enjoy it like you always do, as friends and no more. Mina’s worries about you falling in love are completely unprecedented when it comes to Hoseok – how could you fall in love with him, who you’ve seen far too much of, watching him throw up when he drinks too much, and accidentally discovering his browser history, which you wish you could remove from your brain with bleach. You could never fall for him, not when your body rejects him as its soulmate, not when your mind rejects him as anything more than a best friend. But seeing him turning back to you with that wide grin of his, face shining and lips stretching, the wobble in your heart gives you a warning that maybe you’re going a bit too far this time, that the mark on your arm, redrawn for today, is overstepping a line you should have put up a long time ago.

Despite this, as Hoseok grabs your hand, pulling you towards the shops, and asking you what you want to look at first, you let go of your worries, and decide to just enjoy today.

You wander around the mall, ducking in and out of shops, picking up things that seem suitable for your friends, and laughing over the ridiculous puns on the cards you buy. As the day wears on, you forget all that worried you, only enjoying Hoseok’s presence banishing all the bad feelings you have when you’re alone, left to overthink your singleness and your inability to be loved. It all slips your mind with him around, working hard to make you smile.

With a large bag of shopping in each arm, ready to head back home, you walk out of the last store, laughing at something Hoseok says, until he stops short, and you almost knock into his side.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Look,” he points across to the shops on the other side of the mall, where a young child, who can’t be older than six, is standing with his thumb stuck in his mouth and tears rolling down his cheeks, “Do you think he’s lost?”

Before you can say anything in response, Hoseok is handing his bags to you, weighing you down, with a mumble of “Hold these for a second,” before he crosses the hall, with you following behind, struggling with the shopping.

He crouches down in front of the child, while you wait behind him, “Are you alright?”

The child looks up with wide, brown eyes, scared, before he glances over to you, and you offer him a kind smile.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok encourages, “We don’t bite.”

The boy removes his thumb from his mouth, giving a sniff, and saying, “I lost my step-brother...”

“You did?” Hoseok’s mouth pops open in surprise, “What an irresponsible step-brother, going and losing you like that.”

The little boy’s eyes glitter at this, and he begins to giggle, “Yeah… he’s awful! Will he get in trouble with mummy for this?” It’s good to see that the fear of being abandoned in the mall hasn’t quelled sibling rivalry.

“Maybe,” Hoseok chuckles, “Shall we try to find him first before we worry about that?”

The boy wipes the tears and snot off his face with the back of his sleeve, and then nods his head, holding out a hand for Hoseok to take. Hoseok stands up, the boy gripping onto him with white knuckles. “Shall we go to the help desk then?”

You stare at Hoseok for a moment, completely surprised that he was able to stop the boy’s crying so easily. You haven’t ever seen him like this. But then again, you’ve never seen him around children before. “Okay,” you say, “That sounds like the best plan.”

You walk with the little boy, taking the long trip back down the mall to visit the help desk that you hope will aid in finding his older step-brother, while Hoseok chats with him.

“What’s your name?”

“Jeon Jungkook,” the boy answers proudly.

“And how old are you?”

“Five and three-quarters.”

“Wow!” Hoseok turns to you with wide eyes and a look of amazement on his face, all for Jungkook’s sake, “Did you hear that? Five and three-quarters? That’s so grown up.”

Jungkook giggles, and kicks his heels a little as he walks.

You reach the help desk, where the girl behind, dressed up in elf ears for the occasion, makes an announcement over the speakers for Jungkook’s older brother, who he tells you is “an airhead, although I don’t know what that means, but that’s what daddy says”.

While you wait for the step-brother to show up, Jungkook rocks back and forth on his heels, glancing over to the Santa’s grotto display, just a little way down from the help desk.

“Do you want to go visit Santa?” Hoseok asks, noticing the young boy who keeps glancing at the bright coloured lights marking out the way to Santa’s seat, and the model reindeers outside.

He blushes when Hoseok catches him staring, and looks down to the floor quickly, mumbling, “No. Grown-up boys don’t go to talk to Santa…”

“Says who?” Hoseok asks, indignation spreading across his face, “I’m an adult and I love Santa.”

With a bright face, Jungkook raises his eyes up to Hoseok, his irises sparkling, “Really?” he asks, and Hoseok gives a nod:

“Sure. Santa’s super cool. In fact… I was thinking of going to visit his grotto myself, and I was hoping you’d go with me while we wait… but if you’re too grown-up for that…”

“No, no!” Jungkook yanks on Hoseok’s hand, dragging him towards the grotto, “I wanna see Santa!”

Hoseok glances over his shoulder to you, “Do you mind?”

“Go ahead,” you smile to him, “I’ll stay here to see if the brother shows up.”

With a smile to show his gratitude, Hoseok pats his hand on your shoulder, before letting an ecstatic Jungkook drag him off, with you chuckling after them.

You’ve never seen Hoseok like this, it’s a pleasant surprise to see him so kind around the child. Somehow he had managed to completely alleviate the child’s worries in seconds, distracting him and keeping him smiling. Is that what he’s doing with you as well? Making you happy, distracting you, treating you like a child?

The thought has your smile wiping off your face. All that you imagine between you and Hoseok, your connection, your friendship, your deep understanding of each other, is that all wishful thinking, looking for kinship in a best friend while you wait on your soulmate?

As you mull over these things, brain liquidating to a turbulent sea that tosses and turns your worries, you see a boy around your age approaching the help desk, to mutter to the girl in the elf ears, before she points your way.

He steps towards you. “Hi… I’m Jungkook’s brother,” he says, hesitantly, “I heard that you found him?”

“Oh, yeah!” you smile, looking him over, a lot older than you had expected the five and three-quarter year old’s brother to be, and a lot more handsome than you had anticipated, “He wanted to visit Santa’s grotto while he waited.”

You point across, just as Hoseok emerges with Jungkook again, the little boy’s hands filled with a parcel from Santa and a smile on his face. He stops in his tracks when he sees his step-brother, a loud gasp escaping his mouth, before he catapults himself over into the older boy’s arms. “Taehyung! Where were you?”

The older brother, Taehyung you guess his name is, grins a boxy smile as he picks up the young boy, “Ah, sorry, Jungkook! I got distracted and when I looked back you were gone!”

“Big brother is an airhead…” Jungkook chastises, his fist closing around Taehyung’s shirt, showing his relief to be back with his step-brother, despite his apparent distaste at being left behind, cheeks puffed up, and eyes narrowed.

“I know…” Taehyung laughs to himself, “Big brother really is an idiot isn’t he? You won’t tell step-mum about this will you?”

Jungkook thinks about it. “If I don’t tell mummy, will you buy me an ice-cream?”

“Okay, fine, you get as much ice-cream as you want,” Taehyung soothes, before turning back to you and Hoseok, “I’ll buy you guys ice-cream as well to say thank you if you want?”

Hoseok answers, “That’d be great!” before you can respond, and quickly takes a couple of your shopping bags off you, before walking after Taehyung and Jungkook. All you can do is follow behind, as the boys head for the food court with the promise of ice-cream.

At the McDonalds, with the smell of grease filling your nostrils, you stand, with Jungkook’s mouth slathered in ice-cream as he tells Taehyung all about Santa’s grotto, and how Santa had promised him his presents on Christmas day. “But I think big brother will get a lump of coal because he’s terrible at looking after me…”

Taehyung just gives a low, rumbling laugh, and ruffles his step brother’s hair, while you and Hoseok hide smiles behind your ice-cream spoons. Taehyung looks back to the two of you, “Thank you once again for all that you did! I really appreciate it, and Jungkook does as well, don’t you?” He gives the little boy a tap on the shoulder, “What do you say?”

“Thank you!” Jungkook mumbles around a mouthful of cold ice-cream, and from his screwed up face it looks as if he’s suffering from brain freeze.

“That’s no problem,” you reply to Taehyung, ready to leave, bags seeming to get heavier and heavier as the clock counts on.

But Hoseok doesn’t seem to be quite finished with his new friends, because just as you’re walking away, he suddenly gasps. “I didn’t do the soulmate check with Taehyung!”

“What, you mean that kissing you do with literally every person you meet?” you ask, and Hoseok nods his head aggressively:

“What if he was my soulmate?”

“Unlikely…” you mutter, while Hoseok narrows his eyes at you:

“You think he’s out of my league?”

“No, Hoseok, that’s not what I meant… just… what are the chances?”

But before you can stop him, he’s turning around and running back to Taehyung, “Wait!”

Taehyung turns back, face confused, as Hoseok gives him the same explanation that he gave you when you first met him, and Taehyung, with his brows furrowed at Hoseok’s suggestion, but not completely put off by his forwardness, gives him a nod.

Just before Hoseok leans in to kiss his new acquaintance, his eyes dart back to you, standing with ice-cream in one hand, melting in its tub, and bags of Christmas shopping in the other, and you see a glimmer that sets your heart on fire, just before your best friend leans in to press his lips to a stranger’s.

The kiss only lasts one second, but seeing him so willing to show that kind of affection to anyone is a stab in your chest. As Hoseok and Taehyung both pull back, and Taehyung checks his wrist, still empty, giving Hoseok a shrug, you realise that these feelings for Hoseok probably aren’t normal for a best friend.

You shouldn’t care who he kisses, and you should be glad at any chance he has to find his soulmate.

“Hey,” Hoseok calls over to you, pulling you out of your reverie, “You want to kiss Taehyung as well? He could be your soulmate!”

“No thanks,” you say, “Unlike you, I like to save my kisses for someone special…”

As the two of you wave Taehyung and Jungkook off, for real this time, Hoseok grins beside you like a Cheshire cat, “So… am I special then?”

“What’s that mean?” you ask, as you walk out of the mall and into the chilly wind of December, dangling the possibility of snow in your face without ever committing.

“Well, if you let me kiss you…” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You push his face away, not wanting to see his glittering eyes, ready to tease you. “Only because you’re my friend, and we’re pretend soulmates,” you grumble, cheeks heating up. You’re not entirely sure what to do with all of the discoveries you made in the mall today, seeing both you and Hoseok in a new light, his friendliness, his attractive qualities, and the uncertainty of your own heart, that’s getting more and more tired of waiting for a soulmate that never shows up, all while you have a man like Hoseok right in front of you, baiting you and testing you.

“Aw… I’m sorry…” Hoseok cries as you elbow him off you, “I’m only teasing. You’re not angry? Hey, you’re not angry are you?” He follows after you, poking at you, and pulling at your scarf, until you let out a laugh:

“Okay. No, I’m not angry. Now, can you stop being annoying?”

“I’m not annoying! I’m adorable,” he claims, as you offer your free arm back to him, and he grabs onto you for extra warmth. As you walk home, you forget the sick dip in your stomach when Hoseok’s lips met Taehyung’s, and you worried a new name would appear below your sharpie mark on his skin, this one permanent above his veins.

At your house, you pause, with Hoseok’s house only a little further down the street. You hang there for a moment, all of your worries crowding back to your head as the idea of going home to an empty house, cold and dark, sends a shiver tumbling through your frame, more to do with your fears, than the cold that clings around you.

Hoseok waits by your side, licking his lips, before he says, “Hey… do you… wanna come back to my place for the evening?”

“What’s wrong, Hoseok? You know you can just say if you don’t want to be lonely,” you tease, repeating back the words he spouted to you this morning.

But rather than laughing along, his face falls out of his smile for a split second and he answers, “Yeah… I’ll be lonely without you.”

You gulp cold air, your heart quickening its pace. “Well… okay then… if you need me so much… then I’ll come over.”

His smile returns as quickly as it disappeared. “Great. Thank you!” His arm falls over your shoulder as you walk back to his house, and you lean into his warmth, glad to drink up the comfort it offers, to get lost in the traces of him around you, his warmth, his smell, his sound.

Inside his house is like you always remember, when you would go around to his place to keep each other company while your friends spent time as couples. It’s inside these walls that Hoseok ended up becoming your best friend, maybe even closer to you than Mina and Soomi were before their soulmates evaporated into their lives.

“You want a drink?” Hoseok asks, and you raise your eyebrows:

“This early in the day?”

“I meant water,” he says, flashing you a grin, “But if you need more than that, then there’s still rum, and I’ve got coke.”

“Yes please.”

The two of you settle down on Hoseok’s sofa to watch through a collection of cheesy Christmas movies, with Hoseok lying down to rest his head in your lap after he finishes his rum, while you run your hands through his hair, forgetting your worries in the warmth of his room, and the heat of his head on your thigh, pressing his comfort.

As night sneaks in, with the sky darkening, you wonder if you should be heading home, but Hoseok sits up, rubbing his eyes, and you wonder if he had actually fallen asleep half-way through ‘Elf’, before he asks, “Do you want pizza?”

“Sure,” you say, glad of an excuse to stay longer, but getting a sense that you’ll only make things worse for yourself if you stick around. Your discovery of your feelings for him has dread chilling your veins, and you know you should detach yourself while you still can. You need to remember that out there, somewhere beyond his familiar hold in his familiar house, your soulmate is searching for you.

But Hoseok’s face is pleading, cracking through his smile, and you can almost taste his loneliness in the air, as bitter as your own, so you stay by him, going with him in the kitchen, while he orders your favourite flavour over the phone.

When he sits down at one the chairs at his table, setting down the phone again, you wind around to his back, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his head, unable to resist the urge to touch him when your pity strikes you. Maybe you hold him for your own sake, maybe you hold him for his – does it even matter at this point?

“Hoseok…” you mumble into his hair, smelling of shampoo, “What’s up?”

“The sky…”

“Very funny,” you murmur, “But really…” You know something’s wrong, his smile slipping off.

“Really…” he sighs, you feel his breath shudder through his body, “I’m tired of this.”

A hollow silence falls after his words, filled with the emptiness you’ve both grown so sick of.

“I hate not having a soulmate,” he tells you, “I mean… my parents met each other when they were 21. And I’m 23 now. I feel like as I get older it’s getting more and more likely that I’ll be soulmate-less forever. I mean… at what age do I give up? At what age do I stop kissing every single person I meet, with a small hope that their name will show up on my body?”

“There’s still time, Hoseok,” you tell the top of his head, although it feels vacant coming from you, when you feel the same way. There’s still time, sure. But with each second that passes that time shrinks a little.

He laughs against you, but it’s lacking all his usual joy. “I really thought this would make me feel better…” he says, his hand falling to your own hand, resting around his shoulder, rubbing at the name he wrote on your wrist.

Before he can say anymore, the doorbell rings, and he jumps up with his normal smile back on his face: “That’ll be the pizza.”

♡♡♡

After dinner and helping Hoseok clean the cheese-stained plates and glasses topped up with rum, you know that it’s time you should be leaving, but the longing inside you is screaming to stay.

So, when Hoseok leads you up to his room, you don’t object, only focusing on his hand fitted snugly in your own, rather than the warnings sounding in your head.

Sitting on his bed, the curtains drawn and the lights low, you don’t resist his hold as he balances your hand in his lap, his thumb carving out the shape of his writing on your wrist.

“I feel like I should apologise to you,” he says, eyes dark in the minimal lighting, and you quirk your brows at him:

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I dragged you into all of this… I only wanted to have some fun, but it’s made me sad instead, realising what I’ve been missing without a soulmate. I wish I’d never seen it. It’s better to live in ignorance, than to know what our lives lack. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that, just because I was too blind to see how bad an idea this was.” His eyes fall to the floor, red hair slipping in to clash with his dark eyelashes.

“Hoseok,” you turn your body towards him, crossing your legs on the bedspread, and reaching to brush the hair away, so you can look into his chocolate irises, “I agreed to this, completely. So it’s all my fault as well, alright?”

He smiles, broken. “Alright…”

You pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his back, and pushing your nose into shoulder, enjoying the shape of him against you, and hating yourself for liking it so much. Fate really was cruel to not match you with him, when you know that no one else can make you feel this way – not even a soulmate hidden in your clouded future.

“Oh… there’s something else I should apologise for…” Hoseok says to your shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Sorry for stealing your first kiss.”

You pull away to look into his serious eyes.

“I know that you were saving that for your soulmate, and just because my ideas about kissing are… well… a little different from yours, I thought it would be okay to take that from you. Which it wasn’t.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “We can just count it as practice for my real soulmate…”

“I don’t think it works like that…”

You furrow your brows, “Well, maybe I should get you back for taking that kiss from me.”

“Yeah?” His gaze glides down to your lips and then back to your eyes, “And what will you do to get me back?”

“This.” Before you can pull yourself away, before you can change your mind, you tip your head up, rising to meet his lips with your own.

This kiss is different from the ones before, those ones pressed quickly, not meaning much. This is so much more. Hoseok’s mouth isn’t closed to you, and his tongue isn’t nearly so shy. He feels warm and soft against you, experiencing him with every molecule that makes you. One thousand different emotions travel along you, leaving your lungs devoid of air as you pull away with closed eyes, and breathe, “Now we’re even.”

“Not yet… Don’t you owe me two kisses, for the two I gave you?” Hoseok’s low voice, so different from his loud joking, sends shivers reverberating through your body, and before you can pull yourself away, realising how bad this is, that you’re cheating on your future soulmate, you lean in for a second dose of his intoxication.

A second leads to a third. And a forth. And a fifth.

Each one leaves you less and less satisfied, needing more from him, all of this a blockade to the loneliness spilling over inside you.

You know that you should wait for your soulmate, but in this moment, all you feel is your passion and your lust and your anger – anger that fate hasn’t given you someone to love yet, anger that you don’t know what you’re doing wrong, anger that you don’t even know what it really means to love.

As Hoseok keeps his lips locked to yours, you shift your position on the mattress, letting him sit up, while you straddle his thighs, feeling his shape between your legs, grinding closer. His hands begin to explore you, and you follow suit, feeling out his shoulders, his arms, and then his chest, down to his stomach, and then your hands are riding up under his shirt, feeling hot skin on your hot hands, fingers tracing the beginnings of the muscles just below.

You’re lifting up his shirt, and he’s moving away from you, holding up his arms to help you draw the collar over his head, and then he’s sitting on his bed, half-naked, with only the moon to light him up from behind, rimming his whole body with silver, and giving him a halo of gold.

Seeing him like that, like an angel among the sheets, you realise you need to pull yourself away, and decide what you’re to do with all these feelings.

When he pushes himself forward to squat on his haunches, rather than following your instinct to melt against him, you stand up, leaving him looking at you, confused in the white of his bed sheets.

“I’m just going to use the bathroom,” you tell him, and he nods, wordless, before you go into his en suite and close the door behind you, switching on the lights, and staring into the mirror. You barely recognise yourself, with your hair mussed up from Hoseok’s hands, and your cheeks red and flushed. Going over to the sink, you lean your hands on the rim, and rest your forehead against the cool glass.

What are you doing?

What is Hoseok doing?

What are you both doing?

You know that the best thing to do now would be to leave, to preserve all your love for your soulmate, but Hoseok is just a room away, while your soulmate is who knows where, and Hoseok needs love just as much as you do right now.

You stare into the mirror, breath steaming up the glass so that your eyes disappear from view. Think rationally for a second. Get rid of the mists in your brain. What are the pros and cons?

Pro: You love Hoseok, and he’s willing to love you in return, even if it’s only for a night. Even if he grows sick of you in the morning.

Cons: If you let yourself fall deeper in love, you’ll end up like those people that grow impatient and stir up feelings before they should, gaining premature soulmate marks for someone they can never have, and going through excruciating pain to lose the writing on their wrist.

Pro: This will alleviate all your loneliness for now, making you forget exactly why you’re grieving. Hoseok, always a comfort to you, is the one you need more than ever at this moment.

Con: Will Hoseok even like your body, so normal compared to him, shining like an seraph in the sheets?

Pro: Everything’s okay because it’s Hoseok, your best friend, the one person who understands you, the one who should have been your soulmate, if only fate knew what it was doing.

Con: This is Hoseok, your best friend, and taking that extra step, making love with him, might cause you lose all his love in the end.

Pro: Hoseok.

Con: Hoseok.

You wipe the condensation off the mirror, so you can see your eyes again, resolute, knowing what you want.

Stepping out of the bathroom , you find Hoseok sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs hanging over the side, with his shirt in his hand, staring at it, almost as if he can’t understand how it got off him in the first place.

He looks up to you as you emerge, eyes asking if this is okay, or if you would rather leave.

You answer by stepping closer to him, in between his legs, and bending down to lay a kiss on his lips.

He pulls you under the covers, and you give yourself up to him that night, as the sky turns a darker shade of black outside. His body is like gold and honey on your own, as he discovers every part of you, every part you were holding back for your soulmate now open and bare for him. He drags you through paradise with him, and as you come to a climax below him, you find there are tears sparkling down your cheeks, and you don’t know if they’re there from the pain expected with a loss of virginity, or from the knowledge that you’ve let your future soulmate down, or if they’re from the exhilaration of the experience.

As Hoseok lies down beside you, calming his heavy breath, you stare up at the grey ceiling, expecting to feel hurt or happiness or anything… but instead there’s only emptiness, as you realise you can’t do that ever again.

Not with Hoseok. Not if you love him like you do.

♡♡♡

The next morning, you get out of his bed, and try to grab your clothes as quietly as possible.

But while you slip your jeans on again, you see him moving, red hair and golden skin stark against the white sheets, as he sits up to glance over at you.

You look down at him, mouth feeling sticky and dry.

“Sorry,” he says, and you reply:

“You keep apologising. Is this going to become a habit?”

“I only keep apologising because I keep making mistakes…”

You press your lips together, hands digging into the fabric of your shirt to keep away the pain rising in your chest. So last night was a mistake.

“I was sorry for stealing your first kiss from you,” he says softly, “And now I’ve taken a first that’s a lot worse than that… I shouldn’t have done that…”

How can you tell him that he was all you had wanted last night? That you fell in love over and over and over last night? That he stole nothing because you gave everything last night?

There are no words in your mouth, and you can’t give him anything but a sad smile, and manage, “Goodbye, Hoseok.”

The walk back to your house is too long, even though it only takes you a few steps, and you lock the door behind you, with a shuddered gasp, leaning back against the wall.

You take a second to let your legs find their strength again, before you run up your stairs, throwing off your clothes and stepping into a boiling hot shower, trying to wash off all traces of last night.

The water runs a dull grey down the drain as the last remains of Hoseok’s inked name wash off your wrist. Remembering it’s still there, you begin scrubbing at what’s left, not wanting to see it anymore. But as you attack with soap and your nails, the black stays stuck, like it’s clogged in your pores. Your scratching only leaves your skin stinging and red under the hot rush of the shower head, each press of your fingers sending jagged spikes of pain rattling up your arm.

You clatter out of the shower and grab the nearest towel, rubbing the water out of your eyes before you take a closer look at your wrist where Hoseok’s name remains, sticking stubbornly. That’s not ink. It’s embedded below your skin, right above your veins.

For one second you hope…

But even as you blink away drops of hot water, heart shuddering, the black fades away, turning to murky grey.

No.

You should have listened to Mina.

No.

Falling in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate only brings pain.

No.

It will only give you a premature soulmate mark, and leaves your skin blank when it fades, with all the pain and heartbreak of losing a real soulmate.

No.

Hoseok’s name, muddied below the first layers of skin, shivers down another shade of dark grey, faded and dull, sending a burning pain coursing up your arm.

No.

You had hoped… that maybe it would stay… that it was a real soulmate mark… and not a temporary one… fated to fade of your skin with searing pain… but…

No.

Hoseok’s not your soulmate. And falling in love before fate intended was never meant to be painless.

♡ TO BE CONTINUED ♡

Author’s note: Well, here it is... the first part of this monster fic. It’s been so long since I started it, it was kind of hard to finally let it go and decide it’s finished. It’s been an amazing learning process for me, writing something so long, and has filled me up with passion all over again.

I hope that the whole premise of it isn’t too confusing, since I wanted to do something a little different with a soulmate au... and I thought it would be interesting to build a world where you don’t actually know your soulmate until they kiss you...

Oh... and yeah... Jungkook is waaaay younger than everyone else in this fic, just because.

I’ll be posting the next part before Christmas... so... yeah... tomorrow!

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