#my house is downright frigid in the winter

[rimeswithpurple]

I've been zooming through knitting projects lately! In the last 3 months I've managed to make sweaters for my friend's baby, my nephew and the Little Purples. I sort of tricked myself into this frenzied pace by putting these projects ahead of a sweater for myself. I'm so excited to finally cast on my sweater!

[mychemicalrachel]

prompt 10 with adam x kavinsky could be fun,,,

(This turned out way longer than I intended oops)

For the prompt; you’ve been breaking into my car to sleep at night and I’ve let it slide because it’s been cold out but I have a date and I need you to find somewhere else (fine, go in my house/garage, I don’t care, you’re not messing this date up for me)

Read on ao3

Send me a prompt!

Henrietta didn’t have an autumn. There were the burning days of a seemingly endless summer and then, abrupt and harsh and frigid, winter fell like a bomb. Even though it was only mid-October, there was a chill in the air that crept beneath Adam’s collar no matter how tight he pulled his jacket around himself. The water heater in his apartment was broken– again– and phone calls and texts to his landlord about fixing it had gone unanswered– again. As he hurried across the parking lot to his car, he distracted himself from the cold by daydreaming of the day when he would be able to leave this shitty apartment building behind. If he could afford any place better, he would’ve told his landlord to go fuck himself ten times over. But he was a college student living off of minimum wage working at the campus bookstore in no position to tell anyone to fuck themselves, much less the person in control of his housing. He couldn’t even afford a new jacket, let alone a new apartment.

At the top of his daydream list, right beneath a nice winter jacket and an apartment with hot water, was a new used car. He’d been driving the same shitbox since high school and it had been ramshackle back then. Now it was downright decrepit. The door whined reluctantly when he pulled it open and the engine sputtered angrily, but it worked. It was held together with duct tape and a prayer, but it worked.

Fiddling with the heat, wheezing asthmatically and offering little puffs of cool air, Adam wondered if he needed more duct tape or prayers, or maybe a new blower motor. He closed his eyes and hoped that it would just get him through the winter. If he could make it through winter, he could temporarily go back to biking to work and maybe save up enough money to get the car fixed. He just needed it to get him through the winter…

He tossed his backpack into the backseat and froze when it grunted at him.

Slowly, Adam turned.

Then he screamed.

In the backseat of his car, half hidden under a pair of dirty coveralls and an old moving blanket, was a man. He stirred, frowned at Adam’s backpack, noticed Adam watching horrified from the front seat, and screamed back.

Adam gripped the steering wheel tightly like he could possibly use it as a weapon if it came right down to it. But the man in the backseat didn’t seem like much of a threat, even now that he was awake. He was bone thin, visible because as he sat up and the blanket fell away, Adam could see that he was wearing nothing more than a white muscle shirt. He blinked blearily and pushed a hand through his hair, though it fell back in greasy strands across his eyes a moment later.

Adam had never had it easy growing up, first living with abusive parents and then getting emancipated and working himself into the ground to pay for college and his own place, but he’d also never been homeless. Even in the particularly rough times, he always had his friends to keep him from falling too far. He’d never hit rock bottom, not like this. Not pushed to the point of sleeping in a stranger’s car. Looking at the man in his backseat, Adam’s initial terror slipped into something akin to pity. He brushed that aside that thought– he didn’t like to be pitied and so he would not feel pity for this stranger. Even if he did have dirty clothes and unwashed hair and– fuck, he didn’t even have a jacket.

The stranger picked up Adam’s backpack by the strap. “Dude,” he said, his voice gravely. Adam wondered absently how long it had been since he had something warm to drink, or an actual meal to eat. “Did you throw this at me?”

He hadn’t intentionally, but he probably would have if he had known the stranger was there. Instead, he asked his own question; “What are you doing in my car?”

The stranger shrugged. “It was unlocked.”

“The locks are broken,” Adam said, and shook his head. “That’s not the point! You can’t just break into someone’s car to sleep. That’s illegal.”

The man didn’t seem concerned with the legalities of it. “You actually drive this piece of shit?” He laughed. “I didn’t even know it worked. I thought it was abandoned.”

Something like fury burned away any pity that remained in Adam. He didn’t think this homeless stranger was in any position to be criticizing his car, even if it was objectively a piece of shit. “That’s still illegal,” Adam pointed out.

“Yeah, yeah,” the guy waved him off– literally waved him off, like he was a bothersome fly. “Won’t happen again, I’m leaving.” He climbed over the moving blanket, got his ankle tangled in the coveralls, and pushed the door open. The immediate blast of cold air from outside froze Adam all the way to the core.

He closed his eyes.

He blamed it on his own selfish interest– he couldn’t very well go about his day knowing he had forced a homeless man out onto the street to freeze, he’d feel guilty and it would put him in a bad mood the whole rest of the day– when he said, “Wait.”

The stranger waited.

Adam sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Kavinsky,” the stranger said. It sounded too odd to be a fake name.

He was already running late and he regretted it before he even offered, “Can I drop you off anywhere?”

Outside the car, Kavinsky mulled it over. He thought about it so long that Adam almost took back the offer and left him there to die in the parking lot. But eventually he shut the back door, made his way around the car, and climbed into the passenger’s seat. He fidgeted with the vents, angling up and then down. He didn’t seem to notice the chill as much as Adam did, just playing with the settings on the heater. “You never told me your name,” he said.

Adam pulled out onto the street. “Adam. Stop fucking with that.”

Kavinsky shot him a grin and continued fucking with the heat.

“Where should I take you?” Adam asked. He was having second thoughts already. He hoped wherever Kavinsky wanted to go was close. The sooner Adam could get him out of the car, the sooner he became Not Adam’s Problem.

Kavinsky looked over at him. “I don’t know. Christ, it’s early. Where are you headed?”

“VCU campus,” Adam told him. “I can drop you anywhere between here and there.”

“VCU,” Kavinsky repeated carefully, seeming unfamiliar with the concept. “Sure, okay. VCU it is. Does your radio work?” He didn’t wait for an answer. The radio did work, sometimes, in certain areas, with varying degrees of success. Mostly it was sporadic tunes from different stations overlaid with static. Kavinsky didn’t seem to mind, changing it from one station to another without pause. He fidgeted a lot and Adam found himself wondering if he was on drugs– that probably would have been something to know before he offered to give him a ride. But it was too late now and they were nearly there.

When they finally arrived on campus, Adam was more than ready to part ways and pretend this morning was a lapse in judgment, a near miss, a cautionary tale to remember later. He got his bag from the backseat as Kavinsky got out and patted his pockets. When he retrieved a crumpled pack of cigarettes, Adam was silently grateful he’d at least waited until he got out of the car to smoke. Kavinsky looked around curiously at the buildings, the early risers with early classes bustling half asleep down the sidewalk. “Thanks for the ride,” he said.

“No problem,” Adam lied. “Just– you can’t sleep in my car anymore. This can’t become a habit.”

“No problem,” Kavinsky echoed. His lips curled into a smile around the cigarette. “Won’t happen again. It was a one time thing. Promise.”

It wasn’t a one time thing.

A week after their first encounter, just as Adam was starting to forget it ever happened, it happened again. This time, as Kavinsky roused from the backseat, he didn’t seem as surprised to find Adam as Adam was to find him.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “Morning.”

“No,” Adam shook his head. “No, do not ‘morning’ me! What the actual fuck? What are you doing back there?”

Kavinsky seemed to take this as an invitation to move from the backseat to the front, climbing over the center console to do so. Once he’d settled in the passenger’s seat, he smirked sideways at Adam. “You always get up this early?”

“What are you doing here?” Adam asked.

“I’m sleeping,” Kavinsky said. “I was sleeping. You hit me with your bookbag again.”

“Kavinsky–” Adam said.

Kavinsky smiled. “Adam.”

Adam had a million choice words on the tip of his tongue and half of them were swears, but Kavinsky’s crooked smile and his rough sleep-addled voice brought Adam’s retort to a withering stop. He was wearing the same white muscle shirt, the same faded jeans, all hanging loose off his wirethin frame.

“Are you on drugs?” Adam asked.

Kavinsky’s sharp laugh echoed in the interior of the car. “Sometimes,” he said. “Not right now.”

Adam wasn’t going to judge him. He wasn’t. It wasn’t his place, it wasn’t his business– except it kind of was. It became his business as soon as Kavinsky decided to start sleeping in his car. He started the car without another word and had pulled out onto the main road before he spoke again. “You can’t keep sleeping in my car.”

“How come?”

“Well, because– because it’s…” Adam sputtered for a response, each one dying in his throat. Because it was illegal, but it was only illegal if Adam pressed charges. Because it was unethical, but it was also maybe the safest place Kavinsky could find. He frowned at the road and sighed.

“You got a last name, Adam?” Kavinsky wondered offhandedly.

“That’s personal,” Adam said. “Why would I tell you that?”

“That’s personal,” Kavinsky mocked. “Fuck that, man. I know where you live, I know what you drive, I know where you go to school. But last names are too personal?”

“What about you?” Adam asked.  “Do you have a last name?”

“Kavinsky,” Kavinsky said.

“Kavinsky? Your name is Kavinsky Kavinsky?”

“Wow, pretty and smart.” Kavinsky rolled his eyes. “My last name is Kavinsky, dipshit. Never said it was my first name.”

“So what’s your first name?”

Kavinsky made a sucking noise with his teeth. “I don’t know, Adam. That’s kind of personal.”

Adam could pull over right now. He could leave Kavinsky stranded on the side of the road. Honestly he doubted anyone would blame him.

But Kavinsky just laughed, that chilly sound as before, and said, “Joseph. But nobody calls me that.”

Joseph Kavinsky. If he was to be believed, at least Adam would know who to report to the police if this did end up being a massive mistake. “Parrish,” he said.

“Adam Parrish,” Kavinsky said.

Adam pretended he didn’t like the way his name sounded in that gravely voice, but if he rolled the memory around in his head afterwards, imagining other ways, other tones, other scenarios that his name would sound in Kavinsky’s mouth, no one had to know.

He started checking in the mornings before he tossed his bag into the backseat. Sometimes Kavinsky would be there, snuggled comfortably among the moving blanket and sometimes the car was empty. Adam didn’t want to admit it, but he started to enjoy the company in the mornings on the drive to school. Kavinsky was brusque and funny in a dry way. Maybe it was vanity, but he thought Kavinsky enjoyed his company, too. He laughed at Adam’s sarcastic comments, filled his quiet mornings with commentary about whatever happened to be on his mind, whether it was criticizing Adam’s car or asking about Adam’s degree.

He never asked where Kavinsky went during the days or where he stayed on the nights he didn’t spend in the backseat of Adam’s car. He convinced himself that it wasn’t any of his concern and, if Kavinsky wanted him to know, he would tell him. For the time being, Adam could offer him the solace of a somewhat warm place to sleep and hope that was enough.

When Blue asked him out, Adam panicked. He knew her from around campus; they had a few classes together, he’d talked to her briefly in the bookstore when she was buying a few used environmental law books. She seemed nice enough, but Adam hadn’t considered dating much since– well, ever. His ten year plan involved meeting someone eventually, after he graduated, after he got a steady job. So when Blue asked him to accompany her to the Christmas tree lighting at the local tree farm, Adam kind of freaked out. It didn’t sound like a real thing and it certainly didn’t sound like somewhere he would take a girl on a first date, but he didn’t have anything better to do so he said yes. When she grinned, touched his arm, and said, “It’s a date!” he knew he had fucked up.

He couldn’t back out without seeming like a jackass, and it wasn’t like he could ghost her because they went to the same school and she was actually kind of cool, even if he didn’t want to date her.

So he would suck it up, suffer through a cold night surrounded by Christmas trees, and at the end of the night he would let her down gently. He could do that. As he walked briskly across the parking lot, he considered what he would say. He’d never broken up with anyone before, and he wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for telling someone you’d rather stay friends after only one date. Shit. He would figure it out. He had to.

It was habit by that point, as he climbed into the car, to look into the backseat. He didn’t expect to find anything, but sure enough, nestled in the blanket, was Kavinsky. He looked different than Adam remembered from the first time, sleeping peacefully. He looked… soft. Relaxed. Adam wondered if that was maybe an effect of the drugs.

“Hey,” Adam whispered loudly. “Kavinsky. Wake up.” He reached back and nudged the blanket. It wiggled as Kavinsky moved.

Blinking slowly, Kavinsky rubbed his eyes. His words slurred together sleepily when he asked, “Is it morning already?”

“No,” Adam said, “it’s like nine PM. But you can’t be here. Not tonight. You have to go.”

“Go?” Kavinsky asked.

“Yes,” Adam said. “Like… get out.”

Humming, Kavinsky closed his eyes and sank down further into his cocoon. “You gonna make me?”

“Kavinsky,” Adam said. “Look, I’ve let this slide but you can’t be here tonight.”

“You got a hot date?”

Adam was glad that it was too dark to see his blush, but Kavinsky must have heard it in his silence.

He shifted, sitting up a little. “Oh, shit, Parrish. For real? Who’s the lucky lady?” He pointedly raised his eyebrows. “Or lad.”

“Lady,” Adam said, then realized Blue would probably hate to be described as a lady, so he corrected, “Girl. Woman.”

Kavinsky seemed wholly amused when he climbed into the front seat. “Where are you taking this lovely girl woman? Are you picking her up? I hear ladies love cars, but this piece of shit might be the exception. If it breaks down, will you let her steer while you push?”

“K,” Adam said. “I don’t have time for this. You have to go.”

“I can stay in the backseat. I’ll be quiet, I promise. Unless,” he looked over at Adam with the shadow of a smile tugging at his lips, “you plan on getting lucky back there.”

“Kavinsky,” Adam snapped.

Kavinsky must have realized he was pushing too far and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, fine. I’ll go.”

“You don’t–” have anywhere else to go. But Adam didn’t say that out loud. Instead, he swore under his breath, checked the time, and said, “You can stay in my apartment tonight.”

Kavinsky’s eyes widened.

Adam interrupted before he could say anything. “One night. That’s it.”

When Kavinsky smiled, it was more than a shadow– it was an entire beam of sunlight. He was quiet as he followed Adam into the building, up the stairs, looking around curiously. Adam expected him to make crude comments about the stains on the floor and the constantly present smell of must in the air, but he said nothing at all. When they reached Adam’s door, his fingers fumbled with the keys in the lock. Once it was open, Adam grabbed Kavinsky and pulled him inside before he could think any better of it.

Kavinsky’s wrist was thin under Adam’s fingers, the kind of frail he remembered being back in high school when he was rationing his own meals. He could feel the thundering of Kavinsky’s pulse echoed in his own.

“There’s food in the fridge,” Adam told him, “and a spare blanket in the closet if you want to sleep.” He paused, and added, “On the couch.”

“You sure about this, Parrish?” Kavinsky asked. He ran his finger along the single small bookshelf Adam owned, perusing the titles of his secondhand books. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you about stranger danger?”

“I don’t know if we’re strangers anymore. You sleep in my car,” Adam said. “You know my name, where I live, where I work, where I go to school.”

It wasn’t lost on him that Kavinsky knew all of that and yet he hardly knew anything about Kavinsky. All he knew at the moment, all that mattered, was that Kavinsky was homeless, he was cold, he was tired, and he needed help. Adam didn’t have much, but he was going to offer what he could.

“Just don’t break anything,” Adam said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Kavinsky hummed, plucking a book off the shelf. Adam wondered if he could even read and then chastised himself because of course Kavinsky could probably read. He had already kicked his shoes off and was settling down on the couch before Adam was out the door.

The date with Blue was worse than Adam imagined. It was cold and his jacket was too thin to keep out the chill, his fingers were practically numb by the time the tree lighting even happened and that itself was entirely underwhelming. Blue talked about her family and her major and pointed out the different types of trees to Adam, but Adam couldn’t focus on most of what she was saying. His mind kept wandering back to Kavinsky.

It was probably a mistake to leave Kavinsky in his apartment alone. He kept imagining the horrible things Kavinsky was doing– setting the kitchen on fire, eating his entire week’s supply of food, clogging his toilet, annoying his neighbors, using up what meager amount of hot water he had. Maybe Adam would come home and the entire apartment would be emptied out, everything he owned gone. Not that he had much that was worth anything anyway, but what he did have was his and he’d left a complete stranger– a poor homeless, possible drug addict– alone with it all.

When the night was finally over, Adam was practically vibrating with the urgency to get home, to fix whatever mess Kavinsky had left. He drove as fast as his car would let him and took the stairs two at a time up to his floor. When he pushed the door open, bracing himself for the absolute worst, Adam was surprised– shocked– to find Kavinsky exactly where he’d left him. He was halfway through the book he was starting with Adam left, in the same spot curled up on one end of the couch. A pizza box was open next to him, half finished.

Kavinsky looked up when Adam burst in. He used his finger to hold his place and the book in his lap fell shut. “Honey, you’re home. How was your date?”

Adam ignored him. He looked around, closing the door carefully. Everything looked the same, not a dust mote out of place.

Kavinsky noticed his unsubtle once over and barked out a laugh. “I didn’t break anything. I made dinner. Hungry?”

He was, and he tentatively took a piece of pizza from the box. “How did you get this?”

“I ordered it.” Kavinsky looked at him like he was dumb. “I used the phone. They have this cool new thing where you can order food online and someone will bring it to you. Modern technology, man. It’s a motherfucking wonder.”

Adam chewed as it mulled that over. He knew a lot of homeless people had government-provided cell phones and it wasn’t entirely unusual that Kavinsky had enough money for a single pizza. But it still felt weird. He felt like someone had told a joke and he was missing the punchline. He finished his bite and swallowed it down, dry and rough, before he found his voice, breaching the subject he had, for weeks, managed to avoid. “Do you have somewhere to stay?”

“Huh?” Kavinsky looked back up from the book.

“Somewhere to stay,” Adam repeated carefully. He considered the pizza. He knew what it was like to be hungry. When he was a teenager, pizza was a delicacy he couldn’t often afford. “They have shelters, places with heat and beds, somewhere safe you can sleep for a few nights. I can help you find somewhere if you want.”

Kavinsky blinked at him, then blinked again. “Hold the fuck up,” he closed the book again and sat it down in his lap, then folded his hands on top of it. “Parrish, are you talking about a homeless shelter? Like for poor people?”

“Well,” Adam wanted to put it more delicately, but he couldn’t figure out a way. He grimaced. “Yeah.”

There was a beat of silence, a single moment, before Kavinsky laughed, loud and raucous, full and hardy. He sank down into the cushions, tossing his head back to expose the winding veins in his throat.

Now Adam was certain he had missed the punchline.

He waited until Kavinsky calmed down, his laughter tapering into an amused chuckle. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, “do you think I’m homeless?”

Think? “Wait,” Adam said. Looking back on the meager things he knew about Kavinsky, it wasn’t a thought. It was a fact. Kavinsky was homeless. Unless, of course, he wasn’t. “Are you saying you’re not?”

Kavinsky stifled another laugh that came out anyway, sounding like a strangled hyena. “Obviously I’m not fucking homeless.”

Adam’s jaw tightened. He felt suddenly like he was the punchline of this joke and he didn’t like it one bit. “How was that supposed to be obvious? You’ve been sleeping in my car for weeks!”

“It was unlocked,” Kavinsky said.

“The locks are broken!” Adam shouted. “That is not the point! What the hell is wrong with you!?”

“You should really get the locks fixed,” Kavinsky said calmly. “Anyone could just break in.”

When Adam just glared at him, Kavinsky bit down on his smile.

“You seem upset.”

He felt way past upset. He was confused and fuming and embarrassed and he was burning under Kavinsky’s humored gaze. “You have a place to live,” he said, though it came out as more of an accusation than a question.

“Where did you think I was sleeping when I wasn’t in your backseat?”

Probably under a bridge, but Adam didn’t say that because now he clearly knew that was the wrong answer. He asked, “So what was this? Why did you keep breaking into my car?”

“Why did you let me?” Kavinsky challenged.

“Because,” Adam said slowly, making his words very deliberate, “I thought you were homeless.”

Kavinsky pursed his lips. “You let a homeless man with a drug problem sleep in your car and then invited him into your apartment? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Kavinsky–” Adam started, and stopped. “Is that even your real name?”

“Course it is. Why would I lie about that?”

Adam was going to murder him. He was going to strangle him with his bare fucking hands.

Maybe Kavinsky sensed this because he put his hands up, placating, like he was talking to a caged animal. “Okay, okay. Sometimes my parents fight. It’s nice to get out of the house and find some peace and quiet. That’s all.”

“And you decided my backseat was a good place for some peace and quiet?” Adam asked, disbelieving.

Kavinsky shrugged. “The first time was an accident. I really did think the car was abandoned, and I was too wasted to care.”

“But you kept doing it. You could have gotten a hotel room or stayed with a friend or something, right?”

Kavinsky nodded.

“Why did you keep going back to my car?”

“Because,” Kavinsky said and his smile was back, a sparkle gleaming in his eyes, “I realized the guy who owned the car was kind of hot.”

Adam stopped. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, so he closed it again. Kavinsky seemed proud at having rendered him speechless. “You broke into my car,” Adam finally managed, “because you think I’m attractive?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck?”

Kavinsky’s grin was sharp and sharklike. “In simple terms; I like you, shitface.”

Adam’s face burned. “Why wouldn’t you just ask me out like a normal person?”

“Well it seemed inappropriate to show up where you lived or worked just to ask you out.”

“And breaking into my car wasn’t inappropriate?”

“You didn’t stop me,” Kavinsky reminded him. “You let me sleep in your car.”

“Because I thought you were homeless! I mean,” Adam gestured at Kavinsky, “you have one shirt and it looks like you haven’t washed your hair in two years.”

“First of all, I have many shirts that all look alike. I’m a very simple person. And second,” Kavinsky said, “that was rude. I have washed my hair like twice in the past year, at least.”

Despite himself, Adam snorted.

Kavinsky smiled. “You never answered my question. How was your date?”

“Terrible.” Adam kicked off his shoes and shoved the pizza box aside so he could sit on the other end of the couch. “She talked about trees the whole time and I was just thinking about you the entire night. Not like– I mean–”

“No, keep going,” Kavinsky insisted. “You thought about me while you were on a date with someone else?”

Adam did his best to glare at him, but it lacked the heat he’d felt before. “I thought about how I was never going to get my security deposit back because I let a homeless drug addict into my apartment.”

“Recovering addict,” Kavinsky corrected. He leaned back and let his head fall to the side, watching Adam curiously, the same curiosity as when he’d been on campus the first time, and when he’d come into Adam’s apartment. A look of genuine awe. “Adam Parrish, I can promise you I have my own car and I live with my parents, but I’m not homeless. I have a part time job and a checking account with real grown-up money in it.”

“K, stop talking,” Adam interrupted, “I’m impressed, okay? Just ask me on a fucking date already.”

“I’ll take you somewhere nice,” Kavinsky grinned, “and I won’t talk about trees at all.” His gaze flicked briefly down to Adam’s mouth and he licked his own bottom lip. “And if the date goes well,” he said, “maybe you can find out what the backseat of my car looks like.”

[jysmloves]

even winter ends | jjk

↳ synopsis: jeon jungkook is winter, but like all seasons, winter eventually comes to an end.

↳ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

↳ word count: 3k

↳ genre: angst, tiniest hint of fluff if you squint?

↳ warnings: none

↳ a/n: i actually originally wrote this fic way back in june of last year because i suddenly got inspired even though christmas was literally six months away. i planned to post it during the holidays, but i was busy visiting my family, and i am not waiting another year to release this around wintertime! i hope you guys enjoy my first ever tumblr fic, and happy (not really) reading!

Jeon Jungkook is the personification of winter.

He is your favorite Christmas song, distinct and melodious, blasted on repeat as you dance around your apartment in your favorite red and black plaid pajama pants and black oversized tee shirt at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning.

He is the string of rainbow holiday lights adorning each and every one of the houses in your neighborhood, bright and captivating and inconceivably beautiful.

He is your favorite holiday movie, cheesy, flawed, and downright ridiculous at some points, but still managing to make a smile stretch across your face every time you watch it.

He is your favorite pair of thick, woolly socks, having come across them by chance and not particularly caring about them before eventually growing to realize how much you need them, especially during frigid and difficult times.

He is your favorite chipped mug, the one you fill to the brim with hot chocolate to sit with in front of the roaring fireplace as snow gently blankets the ground outside, the mere taste of the beverage warming you inside and giving you ecstasy.

He is the present that you’re most excited to open underneath the Christmas tree, because you can plainly see that it is wrapped delicately and with care. It’s certainly not the largest or the prettiest one, but it’s the most appealing to you.

And when you’re finally able to open that present, what’s inside is even better than its wrapping paper. It’s none other than Jeon Jungkook, and he is all you ever wanted, all you ever needed. He is kind and generous and funny, loyal and trusting and sweet. He is good, and oftentimes it makes you wonder if he is just a dream, if his existence is a mere figment of your imagination.

But those thoughts are always dispelled when you’re in his embrace, his arms warm and strong and steady. He’s your refuge from the horrors of the world, from the stress placed upon your shoulders due to school and work, and from the weight of the future that lies ahead.

When you’re in his embrace, the two of you are the only ones in the galaxy, in the universe. It is the two of you alone, without the presence of lingering worries or intrusive thoughts. You are frozen in time, eyes closed, bodies still, hearts beating in the same musical rhythm.

Unfortunately, as much as you wish you could, it is impossible to stay in Jungkook’s embrace forever, just like how it is impossible for the winter season to last year round. It is just that: a season.

Jeon Jungkook is your favorite Christmas song, now attached with an entire film reel of painful memories, eventually removed from all of your playlists once you discovered that you couldn’t listen to it without crying, despite its joyful tune.

He is the string of rainbow holiday lights adorning each and every one of the houses in your neighborhood, including your own, which you couldn’t have managed to put up in the first place without his assistance.

He is your favorite holiday movie, cheesy, flawed, and downright ridiculous at some points, now permanently stashed away in the very back of your large pile of DVDs, out of sight and out of mind.

He is your favorite pair of thick, woolly socks, now two sizes too small and much too itchy and inconvenient to wear, stuffed in the back of your socks drawer and forgotten amongst all of the other pairs.

He is your favorite chipped mug, the one that is no longer chipped but shattered to pieces, no longer in your possession but in a landfill somewhere far away where you’ll never be able to get it back. He is your favorite chipped mug, the one you accidentally dropped onto the floor in shock after hearing the following six words leave his mouth: “I think we should break up.”

He is your favorite shattered mug, the one he immediately rushed to clean up by your feet and make sure that you weren’t harmed, all while you stood there like an imbecile trying to process his words. He is your favorite shattered mug, the one thrown carelessly into the trash can after being with you for two years, impossible to be repaired.

He is the present you are still most excited to open underneath the Christmas tree, because you can obviously tell that it is wrapped delicately and with care. In comparison to the others, it still isn’t the largest or the prettiest, but it remains the most appealing to you.

When you’re finally able to open that present, what’s inside is even better than its wrapping paper, because it’s none other than Jeon Jungkook. He is all you ever wanted, all you ever needed. And you love him. You love him more than he will ever be able to fathom, and that is a fact.

It is also a fact he doesn’t love you back. At least, not anymore.

Jeon Jungkook breaks up with you exactly a week before Christmas. He shoots you a text at ten o’clock on the dot when you are already in the middle of your weekly Saturday dance session, so you don’t see it until a few minutes afterward.

The text message has no underlying tones, just a simple “hey, can i come over?” It isn’t out of the ordinary since the two of you are typically always at each other’s places; Jungkook’s apartment is your second home, just how yours is his. However, it’s been a while since either of you have gone over to each other’s residences, too caught up in the hustle and bustle of life. You swiftly reply with a “you already know the answer” before heading into the kitchen to prepare a mug of hot chocolate for when he arrives, your own mug already in hand.

Three distinct knocking sounds against wood approximately fifteen minutes later prompt you to make your way over to the front door, and without even having to look through the peephole, you already know that it’s Jungkook outside. (He’s the only one who chooses to knock rather than ring the doorbell.) When you open the door, he’s standing before you wearing a plain black short sleeved shirt and grey sweatpants, which his hands are stuffed in the pockets of.

You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips to his cheek like you always do when you see him, greeting him with a “good morning” before leading the way back into the kitchen. Jungkook crosses the threshold of your apartment silently, shutting the door behind him before murmuring a barely audible “good morning” in return and following after you.

Instantly, your gut tells you that something is up with Jungkook. His demeanor is off and his attitude is noticeably much less enthusiastic than the several other times he’d visited your apartment before. However, you try to ignore the nagging feeling, shoving it away to the best of your abilities as you hand Jungkook his hot chocolate, supplied in the mug he always uses when he comes over. You chalk it up to the fact that Jungkook is just not a morning person. He never has been and never will be, and you don’t blame him because you aren’t either. Having Jungkook there with you admittedly makes mornings a lot better, though.

He takes his hot chocolate from you without a word, bringing it up to his lips for a fraction of a second before setting it down on the kitchen island. You aren’t sure who he thinks he’s fooling, because anyone can tell that he didn’t take a sip of the drink.

Rather than push him to speak his mind, you lift your own mug up to your lips, finishing the last of the hot chocolate you’d made for yourself earlier. Jungkook calls your name quietly once you’re done drinking and you turn to look at him, patiently waiting to hear whatever it is that’s been plaguing his thoughts since before he arrived.

“I think we should break up.”

The hand that’s wrapped around your mug involuntarily loosens out of shock and your mug slips from it and falls to the floor, meeting it with a raucous crash that shatters the mug into several small pieces, scattering all around your feet and miraculously none piercing your skin. You don’t comprehend what’s just happened even as Jungkook rushes to the supply closet in the hallway to grab the broom and dustpan and returns to the kitchen in the blink of an eye. He hurriedly sweeps a safe path to you and kneels down, checking to make sure that none of the shards injured you. After a thorough examination, he begins silently sweeping the pieces of the mug around you into a neat pile, and does so without meeting your eyes.

Throughout all of this, you remain silent, though finally having come to your senses and stepping out of the way as he works to clean up the mess you made.

You can’t help but wonder if perhaps that’s why he’s breaking up with you. Is it because you always make messes that he has to deal with the aftermath of? Are you too high-maintenance for him to handle?

Once he finishes sweeping all of the broken pieces into a pile and then moving them into the dustpan, he opens up the trash can and pours everything in, every last piece of your favorite mug. You can't help but feel a tad bit resentful about the action. Obviously, the mug is shattered beyond repair, but he still chooses to throw it away without hesitation, without a second thought, just like that.

Perhaps that’s why he’s breaking up with you. Not necessarily because of your attachment to inanimate objects, but because of the sentimental value you hold to things, the powerful emotions you feel. Although he feels things just as deeply as you do, Jungkook has always had difficulty expressing his emotions. It was one of the obstacles you had to overcome in the early stages of your relationship, and nowadays, he showers you with love and affection.

At least, he used to. Somewhere along the line, apparently something went wrong.

Jungkook leaves to return the broom and dustpan to their places in the supply closet before entering the kitchen again, eyes on you with the intention of providing an explanation. He yearns to clarify what he means, and you can tell he does. Words tumble out of his mouth at the speed of light, stringing together sentences revolving around the typical “It’s not you, it’s me” blather, which really means “It is you, but I still care for you and I don’t want to hurt your feelings.” You can’t help but notice that the pet name “baby” falls from his lips exactly twice, most likely out of habit.

Everything he says goes in one ear and out the other as you selfishly try to memorize the way he says that one word, how melodious it is to your ears and the shape his mouth makes when he does so. Instead of focusing on whatever it is that he’s telling you, you try to memorize those things, and you hope with all of your heart that you’ll be able to recall it for a long time, because you know you’ll never hear him call you that again in this lifetime.

Jungkook seems to have finally ended his nonsensical and unnecessary speech slash apology, but you don’t dare meet his eyes, unsure of how you’d emotionally and verbally react. This will probably be your last time seeing him, won’t it? Do exes typically keep up with each other’s social media? Aren’t they supposed to cut off all contact with each other, never to cross paths again? That seems to be a common occurrence with all of your friends and their past lovers.

“Please say something,” Jungkook begs quietly, the silence from you eating away at him. “At least look at me.”

Your body reacts before your brain can, and you’re doing as he requested, elevating your gaze from the floor in order to meet his eyes. Looking at him, you don’t feel anger. You’re not sure if you can ever feel that emotion toward him. You don’t feel hurt either, you realize surprisingly. You just feel… sentimental, in a way. You trace the shape of his nose with your eyes, follow the line of his jaw, outline the curve of his lips, count the beauty marks on his face. This is the face of the man you’ve grown to love. This is the face of the man who no longer loves you back.

Perhaps another person standing in your shoes would fight for your relationship and dig those broken mug pieces out of the trash can to glue together in a desperate attempt to fix it. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t see this coming. It’s the reason why you were so afraid of getting attached to Jungkook in the first place. The process of him falling out of love with you was just as effortless and smooth and accidental as the process of him falling in love with you was.

Finally, you open your mouth to speak. “I don’t really know what you want me to say, Jungkook.”

“I don’t want you to say anything specific, I just…” He sighs and his hand stretches out toward you, as if he wants to hold your hand in his and rub his thumb over the back of it soothingly like he’s done so many times before, but he stops himself and shoves his hand back into his pocket. “I just don’t want you to hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” you reply, because it’s true. You could never hate a single bone in his body, could never wish to harm a single hair on his head. You could never, and it all comes down to the fact that you love him. So you decide to tell him that, because you know that you’ll never get the chance to do it again. “I love you too much.”

“I love you too,” he says, but you can tell he only says it out of habit. It is so blatant that the intimate phrase is meaningless to him, and that there are no true feelings behind those words. You can’t help but wonder if it’s been like that throughout the entirety of your relationship, and if you were just too blindsided by your own love to notice.

“Is that, uh, all you came over for?” you ask, unsure if you can handle being in his presence any longer now that the two of you were officially broken up and your now ex-boyfriend is just standing there in your kitchen like it’s nothing.

“Um… yeah,” he says awkwardly. “I didn’t want to do… you know, it, over text or call. I feel like that would’ve been insensitive.”

“Yeah. Thank you for that,” you reply genuinely and he nods. You’re glad he cares enough not to break your heart in one of the aforementioned ways. You don’t know what you would’ve done if he did, but it probably would’ve been something much worse than accidentally dropping your favorite mug.

You keep sending casual glances over in the direction of the front door, hoping for Jungkook to get the hint instead of you having to verbalize your request for him to leave, and thankfully, he does.

“I think I’ll get going now,” he says quietly, and he begins walking over, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he moves past you to get to the exit. You ignore the spark you receive from the split second of physical contact. He stops in front of the door, one hand on the knob, and turns back to where you’re standing.

“Baby,” Jungkook breathes, and suddenly your heart rate is speeding up twice its normal rate. You were wrong earlier. That is the last time you’ll ever hear him call you by that name. “Can I please…”

“Can you please what, Jungkook?” you ask, and you can tell by the way his breath hitches that he, too, is memorizing every last bit of you, from the way you part your hair to the way you say his name.

“Can I please hold you?” he asks, his grip on the doorknob already loosening. “One last time?”

If you thought your heart rate was erratic before, it’s even worse now. You could hardly hear his words over the rapid thumping of your heart against your ribcage. What was he trying to do, playing with your heart by asking to hold you one last time when he was the one who made the decision to give up on you? You don’t know if this is some sick tactic to get you to miss him more when he ultimately leaves, but you do know that you aren’t going to decline his request.

Not for his sake, but for your own. You deserve to be selfish just this once.

You exit the kitchen and run over to Jungkook, throwing your arms around his neck. You take him by surprise and knock him backward a couple of steps, but he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your smaller figure with the same degree of tightness that you’re holding him. He buries his face in your neck and you feel him inhale deeply against your skin, taking in your aroma. It’s taking everything in you not to burst into tears in his embrace, the last one he’d ever grace you with.

“Thank you for being the first person I ever loved,” he says, effectively shattering your heart into pieces, just like your favorite chipped mug.

You shut your eyes tightly and savor the moment. You’re in Jungkook’s warm, strong, and steady embrace, and he is your refuge. You’re in Jungkook’s warm, strong, and steady embrace, and the two of you are the only ones in the galaxy, in the universe. You’re in Jungkook’s warm, strong, and steady embrace, and you are frozen in time, eyes closed, bodies still, but hearts no longer beating in the same musical rhythm as they once did.

You force yourself to pull away first, and the moment is gone all too quickly. Jungkook seems to have difficulty letting go of you, but he still does so, albeit unwillingly. He almost looks like he regrets his decision to end your relationship, like he wants to change his mind about it. You decide not to give him a chance to, though, because what’s done has been done, and if Jungkook no longer wants you in his life, then so be it.

You pull open the door and look back at Jungkook, who, despite his tall stature, seems so small standing there beside you. His hands are back in the confines of his pockets and as he stares at you, he’s biting down on his bottom lip so hard you worry it might bleed.

You open your mouth to bid him farewell and the typical “I love you” crawls up your throat out of habit, but you prevent those words from slipping out of your mouth.

Instead you opt for, “I guess this is where we go our separate ways.”

“I guess it is.”

You muster a small, tight-lipped smile, not wanting your last moments together to resemble anything of the negative sort. “Goodbye, Jungkook,” you say, and you almost add, “I’ll miss you,” to the end but decide against it.

Jungkook seems crestfallen, though you don’t know why. He takes a look around your apartment, one last good look, before turning back to you, managing a small, tight-lipped smile of his own. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, he leaves. You silently shut the door behind him and make your way back into the kitchen and over to the sink, pouring out his full mug of hot chocolate that’s now gone to waste. You walk into the living room afterwards, collapsing onto the couch, and stare into space for several moments. Then you begin to cry.

Jeon Jungkook is the personification of winter.

But like all seasons, winter eventually comes to an end.

[bangtancentricsblog]

》 Unbeknownst to Jungkook, there is a rise in popularity for a particular human holiday, one of which leaves him blindsided and scrambling to find the absolute perfect gift for his one and only. They say food is the quickest way to a man’s heart but no one ever said it didn't work on women.

❒ pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

❒ genre: fluff, established relationship, a dash of angst, and a pinch of smut

❒ alternative universe: fantasy, college/university, werewolf, witch,

❒ rating: 18+

❒ word count: 12.4 k+

warnings/disclosures: werewolf Jungkook, witch MC, kinda tsundere mc, cat shifters Yoongi and Yoonji, Fairy Jimin, Siren Taehyung, MC is on the bigger side!, Merman Seokjin, Elf Hoseok, Vampire Namjoon, friendly fondling from yoonji, heteroflexible/bicurious yoonji, boob talk, mc is not good at cooking, misunderstanding on jungkook’s part, baking mishaps, frazzled jungkook, not so helpful/helpful yoongi, half-hearted frenemies Jungkook and Yoonji, Jungkook cries a little, yoonji jumping to conclusion, sense8 references, harry potter references, killing eve reference, way too many allusions to sex, jungkook isn't a good at baking, always reliable Seokjinnie, chubby POC Bunny shifter OC, whiney JK and MC, ‘rich’ jungkook, not edited i tried to i really did, taste testers Jimin and Taehyung, SMUT is at the end, bad smut at the end, food play (mostly them getting turned on by feeding each other), fingering (ew why do we call it that? Finger blast sounds better lmao), cock warming-ish, tiny hints of a size kink, grinding, soft fuck, soft spanking, sappy endings

❀ this is part of the bangtan pastries valentine collab hosted by the lovely @suhdays, who also made my lovely banner 💖 make sure to check out the other fics as well, they’re amazing as are the other authors and please excuse any incoherent inconsistencies or misspelling as this fic was written over a many days and long hours ❀

main ml • AO3

His nose is cold, a weird thing to think about when a werewolf's body temperature literally runs higher than every other species. There’s a chill racing up his spine as he shivers reaching a lazy arm across the bed in search of your warmth only to come up empty. Jungkook finally cracks an eye open, pushing himself into a sitting position to see if you really are missing or you’ve only scooted to the very edge of the bed to escape his scalding body temperature. Though to his displeasure you are in fact missing, he’s running his hand through his hair and taking a deep breath before scrunching his feature. His nose is still cold, so he can't smell much, can only feel the slight sting of the frigid air as he breathes it in.

He hates the winter, all he can ever smell is the damp ground and the cold of the air. Funnily enough most werewolves loved winter since it gave them a break from their heightened senses, not Jungkook though, he couldn't stand not being able to smell you on his bed, in your house, on him. Your shared bedroom is extra chilly this morning raising goosebumps along his exposed skin, he’s tired, not having gotten enough sleep from the long night of studying he’d done the night before.

You’re a naturally early riser so he knows why you’re up, Jungkook however isn't exactly a morning person, never has been, especially on the weekend when neither of you have anywhere to be. He’s groggy as he pads down the hallway, a yawn stretching his mouth wide, another shiver wracking his body the closer he gets to the back of the house, it’s always been chillier there, it’s downright brutal in the winter time.

He isn't surprised when he finally comes to stand in the doorframe of the sunroom watching your figure drop what he’s pretty sure is mugwort in the bubbling cauldron. There’s this sense of domesticity watching you work, a luxury he couldn't afford as the two of you grew up. He can almost vividly remember the ugly way you’d scowl at him when he’d plop down in front of you brandishing scraped up hands or knees. A soft almost unkind reminder that he should be more careful and that next time he came in you wouldn't treat his wounds. He remembers thinking you didn't like him, maybe even hated him, so after a while (more like into his teenage years) he just stopped showing up. So you would imagine his surprise when you’d finally cornered him after his abrupt disappearance. His lips tug upward at the memory of you clumsily confessing your feelings to him before running off, never giving him a chance to properly convey his own feelings.

It’s weird for Jungkook to think that he’d almost let you slip through his fingers, his dumb teenage werewolf hormones had told him to just let you be. That you weren’t even one of his kind, so you wouldn't be worth it. He’d been so close to letting you get away, so close to letting you leave the pack when he’d taken his precious time working through his natural instincts (at least the ones he had then). How he’d almost brushed off your confession because there was no way cold, stoic you liked him. Impossible he’d thought, and then a week after he’d overheard your parents asking permission for you to attend a school away from pack lands. Away from the pack, away from your family, and away from him. The very thought twisted his stomach unpleasantly, making him nauseous as he thought of everyday life without you.

It was then that he knew he couldn’t let that happen, something about you leaving didn't sit well in his being. He couldn’t describe it then, after all a sixteen year old only understood the bare minimum of love and life and he knew even less than that. Somewhere in his mind rushing to your house at that moment had made sense, more sense than anything had in the short amount of time he’d had to process the information. He probably should’ve knocked before rushing into your house, maybe also knocked instead of flinging your room door open the way he had. The grin he wears grows wider as he recalls what he’d seen all those years ago. The rest is history, at least the embarrassing parts that he refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t regret the way your relationship had started, especially not after almost seven years of dating. Hell, he considers himself lucky that you even stuck around this long because truth be told Jungkook could be a handful, like now for example.

“Is that my sweater?” he asks, watching amusedly as you jump nearly spilling an entire vial of pixie dust. Your hand has gone to your chest to calm your racing heart as it beats harshly against your ribs, scowling as you think of how you hated that he was so light on his feet.

“I couldn't find an apron, and it’s cold.” you say rubbing at your nose with sweater pawed hands before sprinkling some of the pixie dust into the cauldron.

“Y’know I don't like when you brew in my clothes, the smell sticks for too long.” he sniffs, still only feeling the cold sting of the air.

“I know.” you mutter not once glancing in his direction, only reaching out to take a jar of snake venom from the array of ingredients lining the counter space beside you.

“What are you making anyways and on a Saturday?”

“Vitality potion, for extra credit.” he hums to himself content with just watching you finish up your work which really doesn't take long. You add a few drops of mint sighing contentedly while you put out the fire with a simple incantation. Jungkook watches as you rub at your eyes and easily close the distance between you, your arms wrap around his waist as you nuzzle into his chest relishing in his warmth. A muffled ‘m’tired’ slipping past your lips and tickling his chest where they press to his skin. He hums his reply, hands slipping down your sides pulling soft sighs from you as he slips them under the hem of your hoodie to press chilled hands to your warm hips.

You squeal, trying in vain to wriggle away from him as he muffles his laugh in your neck. He’s quick to pull your body close, before lifting you over his shoulder, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs to keep you steady. Your giggles are almost manic as you laugh all the way to the bedroom where he proceeds to take full advantage of this early Saturday morning.

*

Monday morning comes way too soon, and you’re once again seated at a table of your favorite on campus cafe. Though much like always Jungkook is being clingy, scenting your neck while you kill some time before your first class. The frappe you ordered sits untouched, the slush goodness melting into a mess of almost coffee flavored water. It’s a waste of money if you don't drink it now, although you’re also sure Jungkook will polish it off should you leave it be.

“Please stop making people uncomfortable.” you sigh, pressing a palm to his face to push him away before he can bury it back in your neck.

“I’m not making people uncomfortable.” he says with a confused furrow of his brow as he casts a glance around the cafe to catch these so called uncomfortable people. He doesn't see anyone other than a couple of baristas who refuse to make eye contact even with the way his gaze is burning holes into the side of their heads. You don't look the slightest bit amused as you narrow your eyes at him, waiting a beat then two only to realize he really doesn't know. Your heart skips a beat, ‘stupid heart’ you think as it continues to do so the longer he remains oblivious. It’s moments like this that make you think that being with Jungkook is like having a big dumb dog, except you absolutely adore the shit out of him, amongst other things.

He quirks his head the slightest as your brows pinch further together the longer you stare at him, further reminding you of his canine counterpart. There’s this flutter in your tummy, the butterflies that have long since taken residence awaken fluttering about and fanning a flame that is slowly growing, traveling to your face and warming your cheeks. Stupid heart, stupid butterlies, stupid Jungkook and his big stupid beautiful eyes, you curse mentally finally ripping your gaze away from his. It’s all a little too much, so your best course of action is going to class early, you decide standing and making to leave only for his grip on your hand to tighten, one that you had forgotten about.

“Gimme a kiss.” he says around a smirk, it heats your cheeks further as you work to calm the rapid beat of your stupid heart as it bangs against your ribs. You’re almost expecting for your chest to burst open or your heart to spontaneously combust. Luckily neither of those happen as Jungkook leans in close pressing a soft peck to your lips before moving to deepen it. He’s gentle in coaxing your lips apart, much better than your first kiss, taking his time tasting you as he always does...at first. He’s squeezing one of your tight clad thighs in his big hands, a sigh almost slipping past your lips as the warmth of his palm sinks through the material. You pull away abruptly, eyelids fluttering before blinking a few times to clear the sudden haze that clouds your vision. Next to you Jungkook is whining trying his hardest to pull you back in for another kiss, that sly dog.

“I’ll see you later.” you say pressing one last barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth, almost tripping over the threshold on your way out. His gaze follows your figure until you turn the corner disappearing from his sight. He sighs heavily, it’s laced with undertones of fatigue as he reaches for your unfinished frappe.

“You guys are gross.” Yoongi breathes, taking a seat opposite Jungkook. Jimin takes your seat, as Taehyung and Hoseok follow. Hoseok takes the empty seat beside Yoongi while Taehyung pulls up a chair from a neighboring table.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is hotter than yours.”

“Sure kid, you go ahead and believe that.” he almost sneers.

“Why are you here so early?” Jimin asks steering the conversation away from girlfriends for now. He’s yawning suddenly, reminded of how little sleep he’s gotten today, school was the worst.

“I came with ____, can’t have her coming all alone y’know.”

“Isn't your first class at the same time as her last?” Yoongi chimes in before asking Taehyung to get him an Americano as the younger man walks over to the counter.

“Yeah, and what?” he sniffs a little defensively.

“It was just a question.” Yoongi deadpans.

“Don’t you and your satan spawn of a twin share all your classes with ____?”

“No, we have classes together Tuesdays through thursdays.” he supplies easily, leaning back in the chair.

“Why not all week?” Hoseok asks in a tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Monday and Fridays are the hardest days to get out of bed, duh.” he says almost matter of factly and they have to agree with Yoongi on this one. Monday is truly the worst day of the week, though it's now that Jungkook notices the absence of the previously mentioned satan’s spawn. He almost bristles, thinking that Yoonji might be out there somewhere harassing his sweet little girlfriend.

*

You scream, startled by the sudden weight that presses itself to you, a giggle like purr filling your ears before you relax. Yoonji’s hair brushes your cheeks softly, her arms wrapping around your frame and you squeak at the feel of her hand cupping your chest through the hoodie you wear. It’s a usual occurrence, though no less embarrassing as she continues to snuggle closer to you.

“Did your boobs get bigger?” she asks nose nudging against the soft pudge of your cheek, you know she’s scenting you, her way of messing with Jungkook later when she can’t physically be there.

“No, please stop.” you sigh, feeling a gentle squeeze followed by a soft breathy moan, heat erupting across your cheeks in embarrassment. She snickers giving your ample chest one last squeeze before finally moving away. She falls in step with you, walking along the path, snow crunching underfoot before moving to speak again.

“I’ve been meaning to ask, what exactly do you like about Jungkook? I mean sure he’s great, not really, and all but really what is it? Is it his dick game because other than you I don't really think he’s ever been with anyone else.” She asks stuffing her hands in her coat pockets to stave off the slight chill that has zapped all the warmth from her fingers. There’s a brief pause in her thoughts as she wonders if Jungkook uses your impressive rack as the natural hand warmers they are, the lucky bastard she thinks with a scowl.

“I don't know, all of him.”

“That’s too vague an answer, like if I were to ask him what do you think he’d say he likes about you?”

“That I’m just so cute.” you answer almost immediately hands cupping your cheeks as if to further prove that you are in fact cute. The scrunch to her nose is adorable, squishing her already delicate features, as you smile softly at her and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Not that cute, but to each their own I guess. I’ll see you later yeah?” she asks, turning on her heel to walk in the direction you had just come from.

“I’ll be there.” You call after her watching as she raises a single hand to show you she’d heard you.

*

Yoonji is sliding onto Hoseok’s lap with all the grace of the satan spawn she is, easily wrapping a single arm around his neck and taking a sip from your abandoned frappe. She hums around the straw gaze trained on Jungkook’s bewildered expression, it brings her immense pleasure to see him so distressed.

“Why are you here and what do you think you’re doing?” Jungkook asks, snatching the drink back.

“It was only a sip you’re overacting, besides it’s mostly water now anyways.” She scoffs feeling Hoseok wrap his arms tighter around her waist pulling her closer to him.

“You don’t understand, now my poor ____ has indirectly kissed you. She’s been tainted by your nasty germs, Hobi do something!” Jungkook whines cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of red, it’s almost endearing how childlike that is of him.

“I don’t think I can do anything, since it’s already happened.” He replies easily long since used to antics and strange rivalry between his girlfriend and Jungkook. Yoonji licks her lips mischievously snickering before shooting a somewhat sultry gaze at Jungkook.

“Hmm, can I ask you something Junglebook?” she says.

“No, in fact I would very much enjoy it if you never spoke again. Yoongi how did the two of you share a womb?”

“I don't know, it just happened, what were you saying Yoonji?”

“It’s not my fault you prefer the fossil over there over me. I’m literally amazing, anyways what do you like about ____?” she asks, ignoring Yoongi’s muttering and the somewhat awkward silence that has settled over the table. Jungkook to his credit doesn't blow this out of proportion as he usually does, so she watches as he sits quietly hands wrapped around the cup. This time there’s a slow flush of color flooding his cheeks, it’s kind of cute in a weird ugly kind of way. It’s not like she found Jungkook particularly attractive, but she guesses she could, maybe if the boy next door was her type.

“I don’t know, she’s just really cute, she looks tiny compared to me, and I don't know, all of her?” the flush has spread to his neck and ears, a look she has to say she’s never witnessed before. Again cute in a gag her romcom kind of way, she would be sick if you hadn't already prepared her for his answer. She still fakes a gag either way destroying the warm bubble he’d created with all his mushy sappy feelings.

“You’re so lame, no wonder you didn't have friends in high school.” she laughs before planting a kiss to Hoseok’s cheek.

“You guys were my friends in high school.” he says, brows pinched together an ugly glare directed at Yoonji who has begun ignoring everyone, so that she can whisper to Hoseok.

“Ignoring Satan and the literal walking ball of sun, what are you doing for Valentine’s day?” Yoongi asks, sounding mildly irritated at the topic he himself has brought up.

“That’s like two weeks away, what does it have to do with us singles?” Jimin laughs resting his chin in an open palm.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have plans.”

“Valentine’s day is for girls, and again I’m single what would that do?”

“What are you doing for Valentines day Jungkook?” Yoongi asks, turning his gaze to Jungkook who has sat silently from the start. The expression he wears is of confusion, brows pinched as if he were sitting in on a pack meeting full of boomers that didn't understand the world of today.

“Jungkook?” Jimin says catching Jungkook’s attention.

“What is that?” he asks timidly, again silence settles over the group all of them wearing a different expression. It’s broken by Yoonji who literally looks like the cat who ate the canary, it’s truly disgusting and he wishes he never has to see it again.

“Are you serious, you don't know what Valentine’s day is.” she snickers, a little too happily for Jungkook who remains just as confused as he had been before.

"Your girlfriend is human." Jimin says just as unhelpful.

"She's a witch, not a human." he reminds them.

“Witch still lands on the human side of the spectrum.” The conversation is going in circles, he thinks feeling irritation creep into him at the way they all continue to discuss your race.

“Can we please keep this conversation moving? What is Valentines day?” he asks, letting just a tiny bit of irritation seep into his tone.

“It’s a human holiday, made for couples to celebrate love.” Taehyung says, adding to the conversation for the first time this morning and suddenly reminding everyone of his presence. He shrugs off their stare, instead gathering his things and leaving them just as easily as he had joined the conversation.

“Why is a human holiday so important all of a sudden? It isn’t anything like the summer solstice right?” Yoonji looks more and more amused the longer they stay on the topic, lips curling upward into a smile that is both haunting and sort of breathtaking in a sinister steal your soul kind of way. He shivers, deciding then that he’ll pray to the moon goddess for Hoseok’s sanity.

“God you really are out of the loop, poor doggy.” Yoonji laughs sliding into the vacant chair but making sure it’s pressed as close to Hoseok as possible.

“Hoseok, please.” Jungkook breathes, maybe it’s the fatigue that is allowing Yoonji to annoy him quicker than usual or maybe she’s just testing his patience more than usual. Either way he’s distracted by Jimin clearing his throat, always playing the peacekeeper.

“You’re right, it isn't like the summer solstice but for some reason the girls like it. I think humans traditionally give chocolate, small gifts, or do other romantic couple things. This is usually the day most people confess feelings to someone, it’s actually really popular nowadays. I think even my parents celebrate valentine's day.” Jimin says the last bit more to himself than to the others.

“Wait, so do you guys give girls chocolate?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“No, I’ve had people give me friendship chocolate before.” Jungkook can’t seem to wrap his head around the whole chocolate thing at least not right now. Still he wonders if you would like to receive a gift from him. He listens intently as Yoongi and Hoseok talk about a course they’re taking seemingly having forgotten the prior conversation with the departure of Yoonji and Jimin who share an astronomy class.

*

He’s not forgotten about the conversation later that week while he sits on Jin's couch killing time before he goes home after all you texted him earlier saying that you’d be studying in the library and not to wait up. Jin had been filling him in on the show that’s been playing for the last two hours, one based on eight individuals who all share a birthday and somehow a weird mental connection. Truth be told Jungkook has been staring listlessly at the screen the colors long since blurred as his eyes have lost focus, hazy blobs moving this way and that. The sound has been drowned out almost as if the volume has been turned down while he thinks.

“- Riley to me is the least useful of the cluster, don’t you think?” Jin asks, Jungkook hums along not really hearing what his friend has said.

“Whispers isn’t really a bad guy, and neither is Rajan’s dad, right?” he says this time watching intently as Jungkook hums again leaning further into the couch.

“Jungkook, seriously you aren’t even watching it.”

“I am, Sun is in prison and Joongki must die.” he mutters, blinking a few times before turning his gaze to meet Jin’s.

“What’s wrong, if you’re tired you should go home and get some sleep.” Jin huffs leaning back into the recliner.

“Not tired, just thinking.” he says unconvincingly around a yawn that stretches his mouth a little too wide, suddenly reminding Jin of a lion. They sit in the relative silence for a brief moment, the sounds of another fight scene playing in the background drags Jin’s gaze back to the TV.

“What are you doing for valentines day?” he finally asks, he feels his lips twitch at the way Jin is quick to pause the show.

“Why? Are you going to tell me how much you love me?”

“No, it’s just my first time hearing about it.” he mumbles pouting slightly. Jin wonders how this boy was going to lead a pack when he’s such a child, then again he doesn’t understand werewolf hierarchy all too well.

“Are you planning to celebrate it?” Jungkook stills, once again wondering if you would be happy to receive chocolate as the others had mentioned.

“I don't know maybe, do you think ____ would like it?” Jin can hear the uncertainty in Jungkook’s voice, and for some odd reason he wants to laugh. He shouldn't because it’s rare for Jungkook to really share his feelings with someone that isn't you. Instead he asks himself the same question, would you be happy if Jungkook gave you a gift. It’s hard to imagine with you being reserved and all, but he thinks that you might, if it was behind closed doors in the safety of your own home.

“Yeah, I think she would.” And his answer is worth it he thinks as he watches the way Jungkook’s eyes twinkle with determination at the prospect of surprising you. When Jungkook goes home that night he spends a little too much time doing what he calls ‘research’ completely ignoring the course work that sits beside his laptop on his desk.

*

The weekend has come again and Jungkook is more than tired between school, and trying to find the best kind of gift he’s stumped and a little miserable. It had snowed again, covering the roads that had already been cleared, what’s more is that you have virtually moved into the library the last week. He’s seen less of you in the past week than he has his whole life, which just makes him more irritable as he drags himself out of bed, hoping, no, praying that you are home today. It’s Saturday after all, and you should be here in bed cuddling him, but you aren’t so he thinks you might be in the sunroom again brewing more potions. He finds it empty, not a single sign that you had been there at all by now he’s beginning to worry.

Slowly he pads back down the hall stopping briefly when he catches a soft almost muted sigh. He recognizes it almost instantly, his gaze falling to the couch as he rounds it to find you curled up underneath a thin lap blanket. You look so comfortable he doesn’t have the heart to move you, so instead he opts for something a little different. Jungkook is quick to leave returning with a heavier blanket and a pillow before he’s slipping his body into the tiny crevice you’ve left between your body and the back of the couch. He’s almost sighing at the way you unconsciously snuggle closer to his warm, he pulls you in closer, tucking your body as close to him as possible but also keeping you both comfortable in the limited space. His eyelids begin to flutter, the past weeks exhausting catching up with him now that he’s found ultimate comfort with you.

When Jungkook wakes again he’s on his back, his pinky finger just barely skimming the sliver of skin exposed by the way your shirt has ridden up. You’ve yet to awaken, brows furrowed in your sleep, your face relaxes when he nuzzles the crown of your head. He cherishes these quiet moments, not that he didn't all the others but these were his favorite. Enjoyed the naturalness of it all, like this you weren’t hiding from others, you weren’t reserved, you were just yourself and he liked that. He briefly wonders what time it might be, when he feels you begin to stur, it always starts off slow. You sigh softly a single puff of air leaving your nose, then you nuzzle into what would usually be your pillow but today it’s Jungkook’s chest, next comes the twitch of your fingers followed by the stretch of your arm, hand seeking the warmth that is usually Jungkook beside you. Instead your hands tangle in the softness of the blanket pulling it closer softly knocking him on the chin as you snuggle into the comfort.

“____, baby it’s time to get up.” he murmurs voice husky from disuse.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Gotta make us some breakfast.” he sighs feeling you shift further before you sit up, your eyes are half lidded, hair mused. The long sleeve your wear is slipping off one of your shoulders, you’re blinking sluggishly, gaze still unfocused but at least you're awake now. His hands find purchase on your thighs, squeezing them slightly so that your gaze meets his.

“You awake yet baby? Need some help?” he asks watching the way you frown down at him before shaking your head, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. His heart squeezes in his chest, a slow heat swirling low in his belly the longer you straddle him. You shift your weight as you stretch, back arched in a way that pulls his gaze to your chest, through the thin material he can make out the stiff peaks of your nipples. There’s a twitch of his fingers as he restrains himself from feeling the soft weight of them in his palms, but there are other things troubling him at the moment. Mostly the way he can feel the heat of your pussy through the thin material of panties as you settle more of your weight on his crotch.

“Breakfast?” you ask, the single word is enough to drag his thoughts back to something fluffy, something softer, less deprived. He squeezes at your thighs again sitting up to press a kiss to your cheek before sliding you off his lap and intertwining your fingers as you follow him to the bathroom.

Jungkook is humming as he sways at the stove chuckling as you squeeze your arms tighter around his waist when he stops swaying. It’s odd for you to be this openly affectionate, even here in the safety of your home mostly because he likes to take advantage of the situations persuading you to do things he would rather keep to himself. Still he can’t say he isn't enjoying himself, at least he was until he hears the door fly open and the telltale muttering of one Min insufferable Yoonji. Your grip tightens further as you press yourself closer almost as if you’re trying to hide from her, but that doesn't make sense, as much as he hates to admit it you two are super close.

“What are you doing?” she asks, and just her tone makes him pause.

“Making breakfast.” he replies before he hears a scoff.

“I wasn't talking to you Junglebook, ____ what are you doing, you were supposed to meet me three hours ago.” she sighs as you whine pathetically against Jungkook’s back rubbing your face into the soft material of his shirt.

“I can’t hear you.”

“M’tired, don't wanna go.” you cry and Jungkook feels heat rush to his cheeks at the tone you use, it reminds him of the way you sound when he’s balls deep in you. He really shouldn't be thinking of that, especially not with that thing you call your best friend around.

“This was your decision, I’m just there for moral support. Now let's go before I catch whatever disease Jungkook carries.” she sniffs, narrowing her eyes when you don’t budge.

“Can’t you at least let her eat breakfast before you drag her away?” Jungkook asks, moving the grilled cheese to the cooling rack glaring at Yoonji over his shoulder. She sighs heavily but silently agrees as she takes a seat at the kitchen island. He can hear the clicks of her keyboard as she typed something into her phone followed by the swoosh of her message being sent. Briefly, and just briefly he wondered who the hell would want to talk to her so damn early. Though he can’t really call afternoon early now can he.

*

You look sleepy when you’re finally ready to leave after having eaten your weight in bread, cheese, and butter, a look he absolutely adores. Yoonji is standing in the open door typing on her phone again, ignoring the flowery atmosphere that blankets the two of you like some cliche shoujo manga. The way you smile up at him makes his heart flutter, a pleasant wave of warm slowly makes its way through his body as you hug him and he’s planting a kiss to the crown of your head not so subtly scent marking you. It’s only when Yoonji makes an exasperated sound do you two pull away.

“See you later, be safe.” he says smiling in a way that makes your tummy flutter.

“I will.” you almost sigh before Yoonji glares at him once more and pulls you along. With you gone, he has nothing else to do than to look through the possible gifts options he’d bookmarked. There’s so many things to chose from, gourmet chocolates, edible arrangements, teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, spa days, sex? It’s all so much, he’s saved so many links it’s a folder that he’s pinned to his bookmarks bar on his search engine. Maybe he should ask for help, Yoonji wouldn’t help him even if he asked nicely while on his knees, but perhaps Yoongi and Seokjin would. He has to take that chance, and pray to the moon goddess that they’ll offer their insight.

*

“I can’t help you.” Yoongi says after Jungkook has gathered the most reliable of his friends.

“Why not?”

“Prior engagements, and this if your girlfriend. You should know what she’d like, let me know what you go with.” he says, wrapping his scarf tighter around his neck and leaving the oldest and the youngest together.

“Jin please tell me you’ll be more helpful than Yoongi.” he whines, and Seokjin takes pity on him because as much as he hates to say it, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“I can try but it really depends on what you think ____ would like the best.” Jungkook beams at Jin’s willingness to help even if he doesn’t promise anything. He’s quick to pull open his laptop, opening one too many links that have both their heads spinning. Jungkook’s because he’s just so excited to surprise you and Jin is mostly amazed at Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. He switches through tabs, scanning over the things Jungkook has chosen, truth be told he’s not sure if any material items would be any good. He also doesn't like the ridiculous price listed beside the edible arrangements and gourmet chocolates, absolutely gawks at the price next to the jewelry. It’s not like Seokjin doesn’t know what kind of family Jungkook comes from, sure werewolves were a dime a dozen but not Jungkook, he was from one of the founding packs and in being so he was more than well off and that came from a literal prince of the sea such as himself. Still he wonders what kind of craftsmanship could be worth that much, or did Jungkook not care about price? He wants to laugh at the sheer absurdity that is the younger and his lack of care for things such as this, but he supposes that was where he came in.

“What did you have in mind?” Jin asks hesitantly, almost dreading the conversation.

“I don’t know a little of everything.” Jungkook answers sheepishly.

“A bit of everything.” Jin repeats already appalled at the idea. “Maybe you should stick to one, how about flowers?”

“____, do you think she’ll like them?”

“I don't know, i’m sure she’ll be able to use them in her potions.”

“Nevermind, not flowers. Then maybe jewelry?”

“Does ____ wear jewelry?”

“Not really, she doesn’t like being too flashy.” he mumbles.

“What about chocolate?” Jin finally asks, skipping over all the other options for fear of prolonging this dreadful conversation.

“That’s perfect, I should order it right now.” he beams, reaching for the laptop in Seokjin’s grapes but coming up empty when Jin scoots away from him.

“Or, and this is just a thought, but why don’t you make it yourself?” it’s posed as a question, though to Jungkook it sounds more like a statement, a suggestion if you will. One that he doesn’t think sounds too bad after all how hard can making chocolate be? He smiles at Jin, in a way that lets Jin know that it’s finally over. But boy was he in for a trip.

Jungkook had dragged Jin to the closest supermarket, throwing every bar of chocolate into the cart that he could find, even including other ingredients. After the supermarket they’d gone to a craft store for silicone molds, he’d even stopped at a small variety store for what he called cuter molds, because the ones from the craft store were too plain. Truth be told Jin wasn’t too sure what Jungkook would do with all that he had purchased but he knew he’d find some adequate guinea pigs for Jungkook. The younger thanks him with a meal followed by a brief goodbye before heading home to start the process of chocolate making.

As it turns out chocolate making isn’t too hard, but there’s something unsatisfying about melting premade chocolate and filling molds. It’s okay Jungkook supposes as he demolds yet another batch of half strawberry half milk chocolate rilakkuma molds. There are a few more trays of chocolates, some have pocky others have nuts but he’s still dissatisfied paying no mind to them as he dumps the finished chocolates into a tupperware instead of the box he’s intended to pack them in. This was supposed to be a test run, a successful one if they asked him but one that left him thinking that it wouldn't be enough. He heaves a heavy sigh as he finishes pulling the chocolate from the molds, moving to seal the tupperware that held them.

He’s decided then as he’s stacking the containers in a canvas bag that he’s going to Jin’s again he needs more help, but before that he needs to clean up so that you won't come home to this mess. He also doesn't want to risk you finding out what he’s planned as a surprise, he’s so focused on the task at hand he doesn't hear the door. Much less the way you and Yoonji speak animatedly as you make your way further into the house.

“Jungkook what’s this?” you ask giggling the slightest as he flinches at the gentle hand you place on his shoulder. His shock is quickly replaced by something gentle, something that has your brow furrowing. Maybe it’s the way he widens his eyes as he turns his body to face you properly, he used to do this a lot when he was trying to hide something from you back when you were kids. This faux innocent look got him in more trouble than you can remember and you don't like it, especially now.

“Hey baby, I didn't know you’d be home so soon.” he says wrapping you up in a hug. You squirm in his hold trying in vain to get him to loosen his hold on you, which makes you all the more suspicious of what he might be hiding.

“Jungkook, please.” you murmur a little confused as he continues to evade your question from earlier.

“I’m going to Jin’s for a bit. I'll be back with some take out is that okay?” he says instead grabbing the bag and heading for the door. You stare after he’s gone, a little more than confused at what has just transpired.

“Is he going to bring enough for three?” Yoonji asks from her place on the couch the tv playing a reality show you don’t particularly enjoy.

*

“Why is Hermione always out of breath? It’s like she’s always on the brink of hyperventilating in every scene.” Yoongi asks as he sits beside Jin, a half confused half annoyed expression sitting pretty on his face. To his credit at least he isn't hyper analyzing other aspects of the film, ones that he knows are a lot more pressing than Hermione’s inability to catch her breath. So you would imagine how relieved he is to get the door after a series of knocks, even more relieved to see Jungkook if only for a moment. Jungkook to his credit doesn't look any less different than he did earlier in the day, in fact he looks normal? Maybe he should be worried that Jungkook looks significantly less excited than he was mere hours ago. Jungkook thrusts the bag at Jin before throwing his weight down on the couch beside a very amused Yoongi.

“What is this?” Jin asks, a little too hesitant before recognizing his ‘como se llama’ eco friendly bag.

“Chocolate.” he answers quickly but a little too quietly while Yoongi perks up at the prospect of free candy.

“I thought you said you didn't have my bag,” Jin says pulling out one too many containers “are these my tupperware?” Jungkook remains silent, gaze settled on the tv as Yoongi pulls open one of the tupperware.

“What’s with all the chocolate, kinda cutesy don’t you think?” Yoongi comments offhandedly popping a few pieces into his mouth with a hum.

“They were for ____.” Yoongi pauses mid chew, turning his attention to the younger.

“Why would you give us candy meant for your girlfriend?” he asks around a mouthful of strawberry chocolate hearts.

“It was practice, I didn’t wanna give her homemade chocolates after all.” he sighs, turning his gaze to Jin who still stands beside Yoongi who continues to eat the chocolate.

“Do you have a backup plan?” Jin’s gaze falls to Yoongi who posed the question, he’s glad he wasn't the one who asked. He watches in a weird mix of concern and amusement as Jungkook’s eyes glaze over before he whines.

“No,” he all but sobs looking up at Jin with a tremble to his lip “what if ____ hates me because i didn't give her anything.” It’s so hard to hold in his laughter, Jungkook was being a little dramatic.

“There are other things you can make besides chocolate y’know.” Yoongi sighs, setting the bowl on the coffee table and finally pausing the movie after all he really likes the scene where Harry realizes the patronus he saw was his own.

“Why not bake her something, there are plenty of pastries that use chocolate.” he offers, ignoring the way both Jungkook and Jin gawk at him.

“Is hell freezing over, are you actually offering to help?” Jin gasps a little too dramatically, it makes Yoongi scowl.

“No, you ugly I won't be helping but I might know someone who can.” beside him Jungkook makes a choking noise, one that has both of them casting their gaze in his direction.

“Thank you so much Yoongi, I’ll give you my first born.”

“Keep it, I’ll have enough of my own.” he says, scrunching his nose at the thought of Jungkook’s kids. Jin on the other hand is grumbling at the level of disrespect from a solid 8 when he was in fact a 10, a 10!

“Go home, I’ll text you the information later.” he sighs trying to pacify Jin who continues to list all that makes him a 10 and Yoongi an 8. He does as he’s told, trying his best to slip out so as not to be lumped in with Yoongi even though he was feeling grateful for his hyung. He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and he’s scowling down at the sole message that lights up his screen.

my moon ♡

➣ don’t forget the takeout, plus extra Yoonji is here :)

He supposes he can deal with Satan just this once, he’s got a good feeling about this.

*

Jungkook is feeling overwhelmed to say the least, it’s Wednesday and he’s suddenly swamped with course work. To add insult to injury he hasn’t heard a single word from Yoongi who has also somehow gone missing for the last three days following their conversation over the weekend. He’s so tired he’s thinking of skipping his only class for tomorrow, what’s worse is that valentine's day is a week and a half away now and he’s still very much at square one. Luckily he’s at home so he’s free to let out a tear or two of pure frustration, he curses Yoongi for lying to him. What's worse was that he played nice with the she-demon too! Maybe he’s overreacting, there are worse things than not having giving you a gift for some stupid human holiday. Still though, he wanted to make this one memorable, even if it ended up being the only one you celebrated together. Hell you aren’t even here, he’s sure you’re doing it on purpose now.

How much extra credit could one person need, especially when you were one of the top students in your field. If push came to shove he would drag you back if he had too, but right now he just wants to curl up and pretend he didn't care about this stupid holiday. It would seem though that the universe won’t let him throw a pity party because as soon as his eyes fall shut there’s a knock at the door. He ignores it at first hoping it’s just one of his friends and they’ll leave if he doesn’t make a sound. He shouldn't have bet on it, when the knocks continue. It’s funny how urgent they sound, but really he just wants to be left alone. Still he groans, dragging himself off the couch and shuffling to the door with a scowl. The door swings open as he readies to spit nasty words at whoever has interrupted him only to catch a faint whiff of apples. His gaze falls to someone just a head shorter than him, a woman, one he doesn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” he asks, feeling the chill of the air nip at his nose as he takes a deep breath, catching the scent of a prey shifter species.

“I um, well, are you um, are you Jungkook?” she asks, her gaze easily meeting anything else except his own as he stares. He’s sizing her up, not in a scummy way of course, how could he when he had you, but he doesn't recognize her at all. Nor does her scent smell familiar so he really can't place how he would know her.

“Yes, and you are?” he finally says watching as her nerves seem to settle the slightest, though her heart is still beating a little too loudly for his liking.

“I’m Bunny, Yoongi said you would be expecting me?” she offers up easily though it’s almost a whisper. His features twist into something of confusion, Yoongi said what now? That damned cat had gone MIA, surely this was a prank or something.

“How do you know Yoongi?” He asks instead, watching a shade of rose color the light olive of her cheeks.

“We’re dating.” she mumbles bashfully clenching her hands at her side. Suddenly he recalls pestering Yoongi into letting them meet his girlfriend, and the former almost immediately putting his foot down in a firm no. So really is he at fault he didn't recognize Yoongi’s girlfriend, someone he has never met, until today that is.

“Oh, you’re that Bunny!” he almost howls watching as she flinches at the sheer volume of it. It’s cute really, he takes back what he said about her not being as hot as you, though you will always be number one in his book.

“Yeah, did Yoongi not tell you that I would be here today?”

“I don't think so.” he answers easily, watching the way she scowls more to herself than him, as she pulls her phone out and presses it to her ear.

“You didn't tell him I would be here?” Bunny says after a brief moment. He can slightly hear what he assumes is Yoongi’s voice though it's more muffled than anything.

“But Yoonie you said you would tell him. No, I was on time. Are you sure you texted him? Yoongi! Okay, you owe me big time. Promise? Okay, love you.” she finishes hanging up with a sigh, the rose on her cheeks is darker bordering more on red now.

“Sorry about that, Yoongi was supposed to send you my schedule. He said you needed help with baking a pastry?” she says with a smile sweetly at him.

“Wait, you're the someone he knows?” she tilts her head slightly brows furrowed at his words.

“I guess I am, can I come in or is this a bad time?” He’s quick to step aside, showing her to the living room and offering her something to drink. It’s odd to be alone with another woman, one who is very much not single but still weird since he’s never done it before. It’s almost off putting, so much so he feels a growl building in his chest. He really shouldn't be so guarded, especially when she is harmless and seems to have no ill intentions. He’s placing a cup of tea before her taking the seat adjacent to her as she smiles warmly at him.

“So what did you have in mind?” she asks, not unkindly pulling a notepad from her bag and resting it in her lap while she waits for his answer.

“I’m not entirely sure, I just know it has to be something with chocolate.”

“That narrows it down a bit, do you want something more elegant or simplistic?”

“Simplistic, my girlfriend doesn’t like things that are too flashy.” he sighs thinking of you and the easy smile you give him when you're eating sweets. It eases his nerves the slightest, as Bunny takes note of this.

“This almost seems like a therapy session, what with you sitting here taking notes and all.” he says to break the gentle scritch scratch sound of her pen on paper. She pauses, a small hesitant smile on her lips as she moves to meet his gaze.

“Truth be told I’m a little nervous, you’re aura is a little intimidating.” she chuckles, grip tightening on her pen. He can see the reasoning behind her words after all werewolves very rarely interacted out of their species even amongst the supernatural.

“You shouldn’t be, I’m house trained after all.” he’s amused as a flurry of giggles flee her being, and she tries in vain to stifle them. After that she seems to relax, easy narrowing down their options to a devil's food cake or a chocolate tart. He likes the idea of a tart so it’s with a little glee that he makes his decision.

“I’ll be here tomorrow at the same time and we can get started.” she says as she gathers her belongings while he shows her out. He’s excited to say the least a little more than he was when he was with the chocolate. So he guesses that in the end Yoongi was a least a little helpful.

*

True to her word Bunny is at his door at the same time as the previous day and Jungkook is more than happy to let her in, even taking some of the shopping bags out of her hand. He isn’t quite sure how he’ll do, but he is confident in his ability to try. After her departure and a stressful amount of time spent doing school work you had come home, sans Yoonji of course and you’d cuddled before he’d made the two of you a light dinner. Even after he’d spent too many hours reading over a single chocolate tart recipe, so much so he probably knew it by heart.

“I brought enough ingredients to make room for trial and error. You don’t have to be good at it from the get go, just follow the recipe okay?” she says in a voice that is oddly calming, he wonders briefly if she uses it on Yoongi. He nods his head in confirmation tying an apron around his waist as she does the same. She’s quick to take the reins, directing him in the tasks, and helping him when he asks for it. She says that they’ll be working in pieces, cutting the recipe in half for now as she whisks the ice water and egg yolk while Jungkook mixes the dry ingredients with butter.

“Making the dough is easy, the baking part is what usually takes a while to get right. I’m sure you’ll do fine, after all Yoongi has told me you’re a great cook.” she offers still whisking the egg and water.

“This is actually my first time baking in a while, I’ve found that I’m not that good at it.” he laughs.

“Really, your girlfriend must be very special. It’s actually kind of romantic.” He offers her a smile as they move to the next step. As it turns out Bunny is a very good teacher, helpful and patient when Jungkook thinks he might’ve messed up the dough. He learns that she’s studying to be a preschool teacher, and that one day she hopes to have a litter of her own. A soft rouge settles on her cheeks after she had divulged that tidbit of information before she asks him what his course of study is and his dreams for the future. The dough is now chilling in the refrigerator as they wait, so he supposes he can indulge her if only a bit.

“I’m doing pack management, an easy degree for someone like me.”

“Yoongi said you were loaded and I didn't believe him, but i guess it’s true.” she laughs.

“I guess that’s one way to look at it, I just want to be a good Alpha.”

“How about pups? Do you want any?”

“Of course, I want a whole pack full of my pups. I just have to marry my mate first.” She seems to perk up at this, a smile splitting her features.

“Marriage, have you asked her yet?” she asks a little too giddy for his liking but he feels a blush color his cheeks regardless.

“Not yet, I don’t think it’s the right time.” She nods her head in understanding, before pressing him for any dirt he has on Yoongi. All in all the first lesson goes smoothly, well except for the fact that he over cooks one of the tart shells and burns the other. She reminds him that there is still room for improvement, which somehow settles his nerves. He agrees with her after all there are still nine days left before the 14th.

*

He manages to get the tart shell perfect seven days before valentine’s day, which means he has a week to learn how to make the filing and how to put it all together. He’s feeling a little more stressed than usual with midterms coming up and your virtual lack of presence over the last few days. Really he’s starting to wonder just what is keeping you away from home all these days especially when you easily redirect his attention any time he asks. Maybe he’s overthinking it, it could really just be school work. He’s hissing, as the knife he’s using to chop the semi sweet chocolate slices through his middle finger. Luckily for him Bunny is quick to usher him away from the island and towards the sink. She wraps a bandage around his cut offering him a rubber glove to cover his bandaged hand before she wipes down the blood that had leaked onto the counter.

“Are you okay?” she asks a little too hesitantly for someone who he has become quick friends with.

“Yeah, I was just stuck in my thoughts.”

“We can always take a break, we have time.” She reminds him again, moving to clean up before leaving him alone and saying that he deserves a break from not only school but baking too. With Bunny gone he has some time to himself, time to think, to cool down and let his rational mind take control of the rampant nasty thoughts rearing their ugly little heads. To his credit he’s never once thought that you would cheat on him, it just wasn't in your personality to do so. He knew that you wouldn’t, but he really can't help letting his head tell him otherwise. Still he would know if you were, his wolf would feel it and he’s yet to cause a commotion. He decides then that he’s overthinking it, there’s a high chance that you’re just off doing god knows what with Yoonji. He doesn’t like that either but it’s still better than what the little voice in his head is saying.

*

Five days from Valentine's Day, he and Bunny are making the filing for the tart. He’s once again chopping semi-sweet chocolate listening to her as she tells him the next step. She’s made the tart shells beforehand so it would be easier on him so as to relieve some of the pressure for a perfect tart. He’d thanked her for the consideration when she’d arrived, which led to now as he combined heavy cream, milk heating to a low simmer before he mixed in the chopped semi sweet chocolate. He added sugar and watched as Bunny beat the eggs needed to finish the filing. The only thing left to do was stir the eggs into the chocolate mixture before pouring it into the tart shell and baking it again. With a timer they set out to clean up, before Bunny excuses herself telling him to try the tart with some friends and if he needed any further help she was only a phone call away. With her departure he’s quick to call up Jimin and Taehyung asking them rather cryptically if they wanted to come over. To his surprise they showed up rather quickly and they brought Namjoon along.

“Smells good in here.” Jimin comments.

“Really good, what are you making?” Taehyung adds.

“Are you baking?” Namjoon asks, catching the attention of the other two.

“I am, don’t tell ____. I need you to taste test it for me.” he says quickly, moving to run his fingers through his hair as his nerves kick in again.

“Cool.” Taehyung laughs, throwing his weight down on the couch before turning the TV on to show with a female assassin who’s in love with a woman from MI6. Jungkook gnaws on his lip as he watches from the kitchen, silence falls over the four of them as they watch the events unfold on screen. Jungkook is surprised at Taehyung's choice, mostly because he very rarely enjoys anything the former recommends. Since he prefers shows he can use as background noise that he doesn't have to pay much attention to. But this one is good, it’s interesting enough he barely hears the timer go off. None of the others move, gaze trained on the show as the blonde assassin plays a prank on her retainer. He likes the relationship between the retainer and the assassin, in fact he likes them a lot more than the lady from mi6. The tart is warm in his oven mitted hand, and smells amazing if he does say so himself. The shell is golden brown and the filing looks just as beautiful as he’d seen in the pictures. But he’s still not in the clear just yet, he still needs his taste testers to give him the green light.

The nervous flutter of butterflies has returned, swirling in the low of his belly as he leaves the tart to cool. He’s gone back to gnawing on his lip, thoughts running rampant that maybe it won’t be good enough, perhaps Bunny had been lying to him, maybe this would be a disaster. He tastes blood, the skin of his inner lip torn open by all the anxious gnawing, he swipes his tongue over the wound letting the coppery taste linger the longer he sits in his pool of self imposed anxiousness. The sounds of the TV are muffled, the images blurring as his gaze grows unfocused the longer he sits and waits, there’s something about the waiting that gets to him. His gaze slowly falls to the tart as it cools to the side, his brows furrowing as he looks at it.

“Oh are you cutting it?” Jimin asks, gaze focused on Jungkook and the knife he holds in hand. He can barely manage a nod, watching just as silently as his friends crowd him at the counter as he cuts them all a slice. He doesn't wait for them to take a bite, watching his fork easily cut through the chocolate and the shell hearing the soft clink of the metal on ceramic. He slowly brings the fork to his lips, and when he finally takes a bite he almost weeps.

*

He wakes up to you snuggled into him, an arm and leg slung over his body to keep him close. To his surprise you don’t have anything to do that day you offer up when he asks what your plans for the day are. He tries to hide the way he freezes at your revelation, after all you’d both been busy leading up to today. Finally the holiday is here and he was ready to prepare your gift while you’re out but this has thrown him for a loop. He counts himself lucky that it’s a weekend before he shoots a text to Jin asking to borrow his kitchen and that he would be more than happy to offer compensation for said favor. Jin easily agrees, reminding him that if he wanted to use it he had to be there before five since he had a date. The real pain is having to leave you when he finally has you to himself, he has to physically force himself to leave you alone with a kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back early.

Time seems to fly by, because when he finally reaches Jin’s after what he thought was a quick trip to the supermarket the sun hangs lower in the sky than when he’d left. Jin greets him at the door, as he comes through bags in hand, before he rushes to the kitchen. To his surprise Namjoon is here, and he offers a small smile.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, taking note of the way Namjoon is dressed up.

“Jin and I have dates in the human realm, thought it’d be easier to catch a ride with him.” Namjoon says with a shrug.

“Aren’t you afraid of biting them?”

“You’d be surprised how many humans are into that.” Namjoon laughs, catching the look Jin gives him.

“Anyways, we have some time before we head out. I can help you if you need it.” Jin offers, tying an apron around his waist. Jungkook beams at the older, grateful for the help even though he’s determined to do all the work himself he’s more than happy his friends offer the help. The motions come easily, the dough and the filing are easy enough to do now after he has practiced. He makes a mental note to send Bunny a thank you gift and he supposes Yoongi too. Namjoon offers idle chit chat to fill the silence as he compliments the tart Jungkook had made all those days ago, saying how he’d been thinking about it often, he even goes far enough to say he would pay to have Jungkook make him one. The three of them laugh, Jin taking slight offence refusing to be upstaged by the youngest. Some odd hours later the tarts are done, one for you, one for Jin as thank you and one for Namjoon who looks more excited over the pastry than the date.

“Thanks for the tart, I hope she likes it.” Jin says as he locks his door leading Namjoon to his car. The drive home is a calming, classical music filling his ears as he lets his frenzied mind unwind. He thinks that he shouldn't be worried, he knows you and that is enough to finally calm the nervous flutter of butterflies in his tummy.

It would seem the butterflies have returned as Jungkook stands awkwardly on the porch, canvas bag in hand. His heart beats against his ribs too violently he’s afraid there’ll be bruising, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this nervous in his whole life, perhaps it’s the holiday, truly he isn’t quite sure. He recalls Jimin saying that Valentine’s Day was made to celebrate love, while Yoongi said it was capitalism but he liked the thought of celebrating love better. Jungkook was a sap like that, and what better way to celebrate love than to give you something that he’d worked hard to make to show you, his one and only how much you meant to him? It’s this thought that finally frees the butterflies, setting them free from the confines of his belly taking his nervousness with them. Still he takes a deep breath before he finally enters his home.

“Hey you’re here!” you beam at him from down the hall. He takes in the dress you wear, something loose and flowery but still form fitting enough it hugs all his favorite parts. His gaze however remains on the apron you wear, something frilly and cutesy he’s never seen before.

“I am, are you cooking?” he asks, unable to help the way his tone fluctuates the slightest on the last word. There’s this bashful smile spreading your lips, tugging them upward ever so slightly it makes his heart skip a beat.

“I am, come and sit I’m almost done.” he does as he’s told, taking in the absolutely decadent scent of food. You fuss over him, taking the bag from him and setting it gently on the counter. He’s seated at the table chin resting on an open palm watching you work. It’s nice he thinks, especially seeing you dressed up for something as simple as dinner. Still it’s a welcomed change, a sudden furrow settling on his brow as he remembers you aren’t a particularly good cook and as such usually refrain from doing so.

“Hey, where’d you learn to cook?” he asks.

“It was supposed to be a surprise, but if you must know I had Yoonji and Yoonji teach me how to make you something special.” you say shooting him a smirk over your shoulder, it stirs something in his belly something that he struggles to tamp down.

“Oh yeah, special occasion?” he teases with an easy smile.

“Just wanna spoil my man.”

“Hmm, lucky him, wonder where he’s at.” you gasp dramatically. Turning off the stove while pointing tongs at him.

“I do too, he’s very charming, cute smile, big, y'know all the things a girl likes?” she sighs as his cheeks pinken at the unexpected praise.

“You think I’m big?”

“Of course baby.” you simper, plating the food before cutting up the steak. He smirks as you saunter over placing the plate before him leaning up as you lean down to plant a soft kiss to his lips. He hums as you nibble at the skin of his lips, one of his hands moving to squeeze your hip before you pull away. You take your seat opposite of his, careful to remove the apron and setting it aside.

“Go ahead, dig in.” you say watching with rapt attention as he takes a bit of the steak and some greens. His gaze never leaves yours even as he takes a bite, letting the taste wash over his tongue. You smile so wide eyes sparkling as he groans, the savory bite of meat melts on his tongue, and he finally looks away.

“Oh god, what did they teach you?” he asks around a mouthful, quick to dig in as you giggle softly.

“Enough, Yoonji said you should be grateful she taught me well and that this was her one good deed for the year.” you laugh chewing the bite of steak. He nods his head, it seems he’ll be indebted to her.

“So this was the prior engagement Yoongi had mentioned.” he says more to himself than you.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, this is really good. My compliments to the chef.” He loves the way you smile at his compliments. The rest of dinner goes by much the same, the two of you exchanging teasing words in between bites and soon enough you're doing the dishes. You’re drying them as Jungkook rinses, resting comfortably close to one another when you spot the canvas bag that Jungkook had come home with.

“What’s in the bag?” you ask turning to look up at him taking the last dish from him to dry it.

“What bag?”

“The one you came home with, what’s in it?” you ask again as you dry your hands. He turns to see the bag, and suddenly he’s reminded of the tart.

“Oh, you go sit on the couch, it's a surprise.” he says spinning you in the direction of the couch smacking your ass playfully when you don’t budge. You flinch slightly as the mild sting, moving towards to take a seat on the couch as he says. It’s not long before he’s settling beside you as you look down at his hands to see a single slice of chocolate tart topped with whipped cream. Your brows furrow, lips twitching as you fight a smile.

“I made this for you, happy valentine’s day.” he says bashfully, chuckling softly when your gaze shoots up to meet his. 

“Jungkook, you didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted too, besides it’s mostly self indulgent.” he whispers leaning into you to slot his lips against yours. He breathes in your sigh, tilting his head the slightest to deepen the kiss relishing in the taste of you before he pulls away.

“You taste like steak.” you giggle while he simply rests his forehead against yours.

“Yeah, well then I’d say we taste the same.” He pecks you once, twice, three times sighing when he finally pulls away taking the fork and bringing up a small portion of the tart to your lips. 

“Open up baby.” he breaths eyes half lidded watching intently as your lips part ever so slightly wrapping around the pastry teeth scraping over the fork to catch every last bit. The rich taste of the chocolate washes over your tongue. You moan slightly blinking sluggishly as you savor the taste of the creamy filling parting your lips for more. Jungkook's pants feel tight as he feeds you more, each bite you take is more painful as he finally lets his mind wander. Let’s himself think of all those nasty little things he’d been holding back for a little too long. 

“Need you baby.” he breathes, moving to take your bottom lip between his teeth. You whimper softly pressing yourself closer to him as much as you can. He’s quick to set the plate aside pulling you onto his lap, pulling you down by the hips so you can feel him press against you right where you need him. He swallows you gasp as he gently thrusts his hips up into you, teeth nipping at your lip again because he just needs to feel you. 

“Want you Kook, please.” you murmur against his lips as he slowly trails them to your jaw and neck. He hums hands squeezing your thighs with a muffled groan as he slides them under the hem of your skirt, finger slipping into the waistband of your panties and giving a swift tug. 

“Want these off baby.” you nod eagerly shakily sliding off his lap to quickly pull them off as he rids himself of his pants and boxers. His hands find your thighs again, squeezing as he pulls you to straddle his lap once more. Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, tugging slightly to tilt his face up for another kiss, mewling as he slides his fingers through your folds spreading your slick and rubbing your clit in small tight circles. You buck your hips as heat swirls in your belly, sighing shakily as his fingers dip into your heat. 

“So wet for me, how bad d’you want it?” he breathes, nuzzling your cheek as your fingers tighten in his hair. 

“So bad, kook plea- oh!” you squeal as his sinks a finger further into you, pumping it slowly as he eases in a second finger in beside it basking in the way you clench around them whimpering as you drop your hips with every upward stroke of his fingers. 

“That’s it baby, just a little more, don’t wanna hurt you.” he sighs feeling his cock twitch as he thinks about being buried in your warmth.

“Need you, please.” Your hips grind into his palm crying out as he pulls his fingers from your heat, soothing you with soft bites to your shoulders. 

“Shh, I got you, s’okay, ready for me?” he asks, not really expecting an answer. He spreads your arousal as he gives his cock a few pumps before he lines himself up to your opening. 

“Deep breath okay, yeah just like that.” It’s a tight fit as he slowly pushes into your warmth, you groan into his ear at the stretch, twitching as he buries himself deeper. There are tears in your eyes as you clench around his girth, crying out as he grinds your hips into his. You can't take it, can almost taste your release as he continues to grind your hips into his as he whispers soft praise into your skin. His grip on your hips loosens, breath ragged as you continue to grind down on him feeling your walls flutter around his length. Your panting broken incomprehensible words, one’s he recognizes easily as your plea for help. His palm comes down on your ass, the sharp smack accompanied by your gasp when he thrusts into you. He only manages a few pumps of his hips before you wail, clenching around his cock so tightly it almost pains him to just sit and let you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body has grown slack against him, head buried in his neck as he rubs at your back.

“Are you tapping out on me?” he chuckles into your skin grunting as you twitch in his lap, squeezing your thighs closer. 

“Gimme a sec.” you murmur sleepily, lips ghosting over the mole on his neck. He’ll give you all the time you need because you won’t be sleeping tonight. 

“Happy valentines day, baby.” he growls when he feels you begin to rock your hips easily lifting you both off the couch and making his way to your bedroom. 

*

“I can't, it's too much.” You cry.

“It’s okay, just a little more.” Jungkook reassures you softly. 

“P-please s’too much.” The sob that you let out is whiny, bordering on distressed. Yoonji’s cheeks heat the longer she stands in the hallway, maybe she should’ve announced her entrance instead of barging in. Perhaps if she did she wouldn’t have walked in on you and Jungkook fucking in the kitched.

“That’s it, good girl, that’s perfect.” he sighs followed by your whine, and so Yoonji decided she should just leave. After all there was no use in interrupting if it meant being scarred by the image of her friends mid fuck. She definitely didn't need to see Jungkook’s tiny weiner, gross she thinks closing the door as gently as she can and leaving them blissfully unaware of her accidental presence. 

“I hate cutting onion.” you cry when Jungkook cups your face and plants a few kisses to your lips.

“I know baby, but you wanted to learn.” he laughs as you grumble to yourself and he sweeps you up into a hug. 

“So should we move on?” he asks, watching you nod excitedly, he’s equally excited to see what the future holds. It may have taken some time and more than ten ounces of semi sweet chocolate but eventually Jungkook learned that you would be the sweetest thing in his life.

[theoceanfaewriter]

Sleds and Splashes

Happy Holidays my sea cretin and snusband @booksandlewks​!! 

“Mama? Daddy? Can we please go sledding?” Autumn asks us from her nest of pillows by the fireplace, giving us both her typical puppy dog eyes. The look never fails to melt us both into puddles.

“Sure, go get the sled and meet us back here.” My wife gives in to our beaming daughter, who erupts into cheers before running to get her sled. 

 Jude smiles, bundled up in an oversized puffy jacket with a bobble hat and matching gloves She now looks like the Stay Puft Marshmallow. Never mind that we’re inside on the couch under blankets. She’s got no body heat, and is always trying to steal mine.

“Those eyes of hers are a weapon. You can’t say no to them,” I tell Jude softly. She turns to me with a smirk before pressing a kiss to my lips.

“Just like her mother,” she jokes, making me smile before pressing another kiss to her cheek, happy to just revel in her touch. We only break apart as we hear the pitter patter of Autumn’s feet as she runs back to us, holding up a sled that is about twice the height of her.

“To the sled we go!” I announce in a dramatic tone. Autumn giggles. Jude rolls her eyes, giving me a loving look.

“You’re such a dork,” Jude tells me fondly. I wink.

“Well, I’m your dork,” I say before taking Autumn’s hand and walking out of our house, trying to decide which hill to use. Jude follows behind us watching with a soft gaze. She loves how close Autumn and I are. Ever since the first time I held her and she latched onto not just my finger, but my heart, she’s been a daddy’s girl through and through.

“This one! Mama gets first go since she didn’t go last time,” Autumn announces as she passes the green sled over to her, slightly shivering. Her hair is littered with snowflakes.

Jude takes the sled and places it into the starting position. “Let me show you all how it’s done!” Jude says cockily. I shake my head at her braggery, before giving her a huge push down the hill, scooping up Autumn as we chase after the sled.

Autumn squeals in delight as we get farther down the hill. About halfway down, I notice the shimmering object at the foot of it, not realizing that it’s in fact a small creek until it’s too late. My mouth opens wide in shock as I watch Jude fly off the sled into the ice cold water.

“Fucking shit! That’s cold!” Jude gasps out as she resurfaces. Autumn and I both stand looking at the wet woman trying to stop ourselves from laughing.

“Daddy, Mama swore!” Autumn pipes up beside me, I nod my head at her statement.

“I know sweetie, that was very naughty of her,” I join in, making sure to make eye contact with Jude. As much as she tries not to, she has the mouth of a sailor. She gives me the look of death before raising her arm and slamming it down in the water, splashing my leg with the frigid liquid.

“Just get me out of here please, Cardan,” Jude says, sounding downright pitiful. I decide to put her out of her misery by giving her my hand to pull herself up with.

Once I get Jude out of the water, she begins to violently shiver, I take off her winter wear and instead wrap her up in my own stuff. I then snuggle her up in my arms, trying to warm her up as Jude snuggles up into my body in an attempt to leach away my body heat.

“Think maybe we should find a new hill to use”

“You think?!”

[nonbinary-ghost]

Hollow Knight fluff

I realized it’s been a while since I posted any of my writing on tumblr! So here’s some cheerful bug-fluff involving my favorite siblings.

This drabble takes place sometime after the fix-it fic I’m working on, so there are a few changes - The Grimmchild is now a teenager and uses she/her pronouns while going by the name Scarlet, and The Hollow Knight uses the name Hope (which will be explored more in the fix-it fic on AO3).

--

A blustering wind swept through the small room, carrying the scent of icy stone and snow. Hope shivered as the chill cut through the cloud of warmth from the heating oven and they glanced up from measuring out a cup and a half of flour. A red shape blurred through the narrowly cracked door before slamming the heavy wood shut against the wind with a bang. Hornet leaned back against the door and pulled her thick scarf down as she violently shook snow from her red cloak.

“It is far too cold for any self-loving bug to be out there,” she muttered under her breath and Hope silently chuckled as they added the flour to the mixing bowl. Today was Quirrel’s birthday, and the four siblings had decided they would surprise the adventurous pill bug with a cake and dinner tonight. Odds were good that he’d even forgotten about the special occasion. Hornet had been out making sure that Quirrel would be home at the selected time of surprise.

“What’s wrong,” taunted the Grimmchild, now going by the name Scarlet, from her place by the stove. “The great Hornet Protector can’t tolerate a little snow?”

Hornet scowled.

“I don’t need any flack from someone with literal fire for a heart.”

Scarlet grinned, the jagged smile cracking her mask in two, and she waved her wooden spoon at the bristling spider.

“I’m just saying, one might think someone from Deepnest would be a little more tolerant of the cold. Those caverns are downright frigid.”

“Oh, but the snow doesn’t bother you?” Hornet snarked. Hope noticed her secondary set of arms gather the lingering snow on her cloak out of Scarlet’s sight. Hope wondered if they should warn their adopted sister. But one look at Hornet’s stance told them they would only get caught in the crossfire if they intervened. Instead, they shifted away from Scarlet under the pretense of grabbing the eggs from the fridge.

“Of course not,” the oblivious Grimmchild stated, dramatically splaying her free hand over her chest. “As you said, the Nightmare Heart keeps me plenty warm and –“

               SPLAT

A tiny, half-melted snowball whopped Scarlet full in the face and splattered the slush around the kitchen. Hope lunged forward to shield the bowl of batter with their body and watched their littlest sister go rigid in shock before yelping as the snow began to drip down her neck. Hope couldn’t hold back their laughter as Scarlet flailed around.

“Oh, I am so sorry,” Hornet teased with a smile in her voice, all four arms clasped innocently before her. “I thought you said snow didn’t bother you?”

The Grimmchild turned with a hiss, the snow that still clung to her mask sizzling into steam as her eyes narrowed into vertical red slits.

“Very mature,” she growled, her raspy voice holding a barely restrained anger. She pointedly wiped the snow away with a shake of her hands, even though there was little more than vapor left. Hornet leaned forward with a grating smile.

“And what are you going to do about it?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Scarlet claimed. “I have a cake to help Hope bake. Besides, I am far more mature than –“

A second snowball pelted across the room. Scarlet was fast enough to turn out of the way of this one, so it only splattered against her shoulder instead of her mask. The very air around the Grimmchild began to waver with heat as she glared at Hornet over the counter, her narrowed eyes positively blazing.

“You’re going to regret that,” Scarlet hissed.

“I’d love to see you try and make me.”

Hope rolled their eyes in exasperation as Scarlet vanished in a burst of crimson flame, reappearing behind Hornet to dive at her. Hornet clearly expected this and rappelled away on a thread of spider silk. Hope turned from the fight to eye the scorch marks on the stone floor and made a mental note to make Scarlet clean them up later.

There was a reason they had very little furniture made of wood.

Hope barely looked up at the crashes and hurled insults as they returned to baking. The water on the stove was well past boiling (likely hurried along by Scarlet’s burst of anger) and Hope clicked off the flame before pouring the hot water over the roughly chopped coffee beans waiting in the press. Coffee was a rare commodity, especially now in the winter, but Hope had made sure to buy a decently sized bag or two from the last merchant to pass through Dirtmouth. None of Hope’s siblings cared for the stuff, but Hope enjoyed the bitter earthiness.

A particularly loud crash! literally shook the small house and Hope hissed as hot water splashed onto the back of their hand. Their actual hand. Great wyrm, why was it never their prosthetic that got caught in their sibling’s crossfire?

“Apologize!” demanded Scarlet as she lunged at Hornet.

“Only if you catch me!” Hornet laughed and leapt over the dashing Grimmchild, using her silk to rappel up onto the loft the served as Hope and Ghost’s bedroom. Scarlet crashed into the couch that Hornet had been standing upon, tipping the furniture to slam to the floor with a resounding bang.

A quiet creak from behind drew Hope’s attention from running cold water over their hand, and the trap door to the basement pushed up to reveal Ghost, their arms full of vegetables and mushrooms. They kicked the door to the basement shut and dropped their burden on the counter just as another clatter and more yelling filled the air.

“What’s going on?” Ghost asked, their fingers shaping the words carefully.

Hope shrugged and wavered a flat palm in a so-so gesture to mean “the usual”. Ghost snorted and nudged Hope away from the sink so they could start washing the vegetables. It still took Hope by surprise that Ghost was tall enough to even reach the sink. Just a month before, the Mask Maker had finished crafting an adolescent mask for Hope’s littlest sibling. They came up to Hope’s ribs now, and looked quite a bit like Hornet, with a slightly more angular mask and sloping horns. Except, the side of their mask also sported small ridges that hinted at longer spines in the future – similar to the Shade Entity Hope had seen in the realm of Void.

“Wasn’t Scarlet helping you?”

Hope just lifted their hand towards the chaos in explanation and Ghost rolled their eyes under their mask.

Finding the coffee had turned dark, Hope pushed down the strainer on the press and added a few spoonfuls of the brew to the batter, along with a good bit of cocoa powder, sugar, and an egg. The bowl had small grooves in the base that Hope could slide into similar slots carved into a heavy base that sat on the counter, which in turn held the bowl in place while they stirred the batter. Their prosthetic arm was good at holding some things, but at this angle they couldn’t get the right support from it to hold mixing bowls stationary. Hornet had actually helped come up with this solution so Hope could cook on their own.

“Ew, you added coffee to the cake?”

Hope jumped, not having realized Scarlet had appeared behind them.

“I thought I smelled that awful bean juice,” Hornet observed, handing upside-down from the ceiling by a thread of silk. Hope narrowed their eyes at their sisters, tempted to swat at them with the batter-covered spoon.

“It can’t be that bad,” Ghost signed and shook water from their hands. Before Hope could move to block them, Ghost dipped a finger in the batter and stuck it under their mask. They went straight in surprise, eyes wide.

“Well,” demanded Scarlet, practically twisting around Hope to see Ghost’s hands as they signed.

“It’s really good!”

“No way,” Hornet exclaimed. Without hesitation, Scarlet snatched the wooden spoon from Hope’s hand and danced away as she licked it.

“Pale Beings, that is good!”

She laughed as Hope lunged to seize the spoon back from her. With a wicked grin, she tossed it to Hornet, who caught it with a thread and skittered away. A pleased hum followed shortly after and Hope strode around the counter, standing up straight so they could glare over the edge of the loft at Hornet sitting primly on top of their desk. She waved the spoon at them tauntingly.

“This is really good!” she complimented, giving the spoon another lick. “Do we really have to bake the cake before we eat it?”

“Yes,” Hope signed impatiently. They grabbed at her, but Hornet threw the spoon over their mask and hopped back out of reach. Hope spun to find Ghost now holding the spoon. What followed was a frantic game of keep-away as the three siblings worked together to keep Hope running between them, trying to catch the spoon as they threw it over, under, and around Hope. Eventually the initial irritation that had smoldered in Hope’s belly shifted to glee as they hopped around and chased their giggling siblings. Ghost had a tendency to cloak themself in void to dash through Hope if they got too close, while Scarlet was more than happy to vanish in a burst of flame. Hornet was simply fast, able to pull herself around in nearly any direction at a moment’s notice by her thread. But, at last, one of them slipped up. In all of the chaos, much of the furniture had been knocked around and Ghost stumbled over a displaced chair at the end of one of their shade-cloaked dashes, nearly falling flat on their mask. At the same time, Hornet had swung in on a thread to avoid Hope’s desperate grab. She crashed into the stumbling Ghost and the two of them fell to the floor in a snarl of thread. With the two of them occupied, Hope turned their attention to the laughing Grimmchild. Faster than a blink, Hope snagged a startled Scarlet around the waist while she was distracted by her sibling’s mishap. With one sister retained, Hope blanketed themself in void and teleported behind Hornet and Ghost, and simply used their larger body to fall across them. All three of siblings squawked in complaint as Hope squashed them to the floor, effectively pinning them with their body.

“Hope, that’s not fair!” whined Scarlet, squirming in their grip. Hope just laughed and nuzzled their mask against hers.

“Alright, alright, you caught us,” Hornet wheezed, trapped somewhere under both Ghost and Hope. She was panting for breath, but small bursts of laughter kept cutting her off as she tried to negotiate. “You can let us go now.”

Nope. Hope shook their head and squeezed the three of them tighter as they trembled with laughter. This was nice. This carefree mischief, so different from the life Hope had lead before. A sudden wave of affection washed through them and Hope held their siblings as tight as they could while a happy, rumbling purr vibrated in their chest. They endeavored to never let their siblings go.

They eventually did, of course. But only after Scarlet promised to clean off the scorch marks around the house. And Hornet swore to help pick up the scattered furniture. And Ghost assured them that they would help Hope finish cooking. Before long the cake was finally in the oven, a hearty vegetable stew was bubbling merrily on the stove, and the four siblings were lounging in a newly reorganized living room. Hope had made everyone steaming mugs of hot cocoa; except for themself, who sipped on the leftover coffee they’d made for the cake.

Hope’s chest still felt warm and tight, and they almost felt close to tears at the affection they held for their siblings as they watched the three of them sprawl on the floor around a board game. This was exactly the life Hope had always dreamed of having. A life where they could be safe, and warm, and loved.

 A loud cry of dismay drew Hope out of their reverie as Scarlet glared at Hornet, who had apparently just sent one of the Grimmchild’s pieces back to start. Hope chuckled silently to themself and amended their thoughts. It was far louder and more chaotic than they ever could have imagined. This was not exactly how they dreamed life could be.

It was so, so much better.

[lookbluesoup]

I know I asked already, but...

👀👻🖊

I will never say no to more asks 👀 <33

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

I think most of my better fics actually start out with this mindset. If I plan on not sharing them with the public its easier to put that pressure out of my mind and just, really get into the unapologetic emotion of it. I'm not worrying about whether its good or bad, I'm just focusing on enjoying it and experimenting. So... I guess MANY of my WIPs are like that. And once they're finished I can decide whether I feel like letting other people read them, or not!

---

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

So I actually have an entire Google Doc affectionately titled "Compost", where stuff that just wasn't working or I decided later wasn't in character gets chucked. But I keep it all there to look back at. Sometimes bits and pieces find their way into other stories. I also recently picked back up a Revan/Carth KotOR fic that had been untouched since 2016 so... never say never, actually?

---

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Some Pipan:

Winter travel was a challenge even in clear weather, but a nuclear storm below freezing turned the road downright treacherous. Dark coldness seeped out of the earth, as though the veil to Purgatory had been torn open. Even the wind seemed to shriek as a wailing ghost. Piper stuck to Nate’s side with the tenacity of wonderglue. If they got separated in a whiteout like this, it would be impossible to find their way back together. “Unless you wanna go back to bein’ a frozen relic, we need to get out of this storm!” She yelled over the fray. He nodded back. Or at least, seemed to. The best they could find was a half-collapsed house through the sleet. By then she couldn’t feel her toes anymore, and even Nate had started shivering. First he cupped her hands in his, kissing them with chapped lips before exhaling a warm breath against her frigid fingers. Piper sighed, a cold shudder running down her spine. All she wanted to do was press closer and feel his warmth all around. Soon enough. First though, they needed a proper shelter. His coal-black hair was coated in ice. She reached out to ruffle it. “Blue you ah, got some snow there. All over you.”

-----

I will also share a bit of the KotOR one! It spoils a big part of the game's plot so it will stay under the cut:

Suddenly, Carth is my rock. The only other person in this room as unhinged by Malak’s revelation as I am. It seems hardly possible but I think he may even be in worse shock than me. Because he’s been through this kind of betrayal before. Because he had finally dared to trust me, only to learn that everything he’s endured, everything we’ve fought and lost and sacrificed to stave off the darkness… is my doing. I am Revan. In an instant, the part of me that loves Carth is severed. It’s instinctive. Whatever he felt for me, whatever idle fantasies I entertained – they are ended now. It’s not a clean break. In fact it feels quite a bit like dying. But he will despise me. And he will be right to. I must make peace with this. It’s the only way we’ll both survive.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

The Art Of Remembrance (Part 4)

Azula sits up, every fiber of her soul and body standing on end. The wind whistling against the side of the house unsettles some part of her. She can’t say exactly why; at first she thinks it is simply because it is a reminder of the unrelenting cold that had almost killed her. But she thinks that it is deeper than that. More primal. Complemented by the nightmare, the shrill howl and the slight shaking of the house leaves her jittery and on edge.

She doesn’t know where to go but she doesn’t want to remain on that sofa, fighting for sleep that won’t come, so she takes to wandering aimlessly about the house with only a small flame in her palms. She meanders into the living room and stands before the rack of weapons. Those will occupy her, at least for a short span of time. 

She brushes her fingers over the dull surface of the blades, runs them over the intricate tribal etchings. Her fire glints and bounces off of the metal. She traces her fingers to the end of the topmost sword. To the hilt. Wrapped around it is a dark leather that ends in long fringes. 

She follows the length of the fringe to wear it ends with several large wooden beads, teal and navy in color. 

The craftsmanship is sublime. 

“What are you doing?” 

Azula gives a start and nearly drops the sword. 

“Sorry.” Sokka whispers, holding his hands up. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

Azula shakes her head. 

“Is the bed not comfy?” He pauses. “No wait, I know! It’s too cold isn’t it?” 

“That’s not it.” Azula replies. Though it is rather chilly for her liking. 

“Then what is it?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She replies. 

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” 

“Nothing, nevermind. It’s foolish.” She cradles the sword back in place. 

“So it was a nightmare then?” Sokka asks. “Zuko always gets really defensive and secretive about nightmares.” 

“Zuko…” she tests the name, trying to coax any familiarity out of it. Still, the name remains as empty as her own. 

“What happened in the nightmare?” Sokka persists. 

She picks up another weapon and inspects it. This one is a spear with a stone head. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.” 

“I died.” She puts the spear back in place. 

The wind gives another howl at the house. She stares down at her feet with her hands clasped behind her back. 

“I think I know how to make things better.” Sokka smiles. 

Azula stares expectantly. 

“It always comforts me.” 

Azula quirks a brow. 

“Follow me.” Sokka smiles. He tosses her a coat and a pair of mittens.

The firebender looks at the door. Reluctantly, she slips into the winter attire and lets Sokka lead her out into the snow. Instinctually, her stomach turns. In comparison to the last time she had stepped outside, it is more pleasant. It is quite peacefully so. Snow still falls but it is lighter. Kinder. A gentle little dusting that clings to her lashes and the fur on her hood. 

Her breaths come out in small puffs. She watches an artic wolf-fox cross the snow in the distance. Despite the tranquility, she wants to go back inside. Even as abundantly bundled as she is, she still shivers.

“Why are we out here?” 

.oOo.

Sokka’s heart sinks; she isn’t even giving him a chance. He should have known that the firebender would have no interest in the cold majesty of an arctic night. He marvels at twisting curtains of light, she hasn’t even noticed. In fact she seems only to stare at the ground, watching each and every step she takes or blankly at the snow gusting about in the tundra. Winds blow loose flakes into large banks, the wisps of wintery powder slither like snakes in the wind.

The sight is familiar and comforting as it is sinister and dangerous. He thinks that she can only ever know it as a sight to dread.

He considers asking her again, what she had dreamt of. 

He comes to find that he has no need. 

“I died in the cold.” She says.

Instinctually, as he would with his own sister, Sokka takes her hand. “You’re alive.” He laughs, “I can tell because you’re complaining.” 

“In my dream, I mean.” Azula replies. 

Sokka gives a resigned sigh, “is this your way of telling me that you want to go back inside?”

“It’s my way of telling you that you better have a good reason for bringing me back out here.” She folds her arms across her chest. 

“Look up.” Sokka points.

.oOo.

Azula tilts her head. A quartzy dusting of stars glimmer in a deep blue sky. The glistening snow below creates a frigid and elegant ambience. And then she sees what Sokka is referring to. They are luminous curtains of vivid teals and electric greens with an occasional burst of rosy pink. 

“I like to watch them. They never get old because they seem to look different every night.” Sokka says.

They shift and twirl in the air like pastel flames. Sometimes dipping low enough that Azula feels as though she can reach out and touch them. She holds a hand out, if only to humor herself, but only catches snow.

“They’re nice, right?” Sokka grins. 

Azula shrugs, “they’re alright, I suppose.” They’d be better under different circumstances. The more she stares out into the vast tundra, the more that the unease begins to seep in. She half expects to see them stalking over the snow, ready to fight to take her back. She takes an unconscious step towards Sokka. 

A particularly strong gust sends her into another round of vicious shivers. 

As awestriking as the celestial colors overhead are, the icy breath on her cheeks pulls her attention elsewhere. Feeling it on her skin makes her fingers tingle, even the one that she no longer has…

Especially the one that she no longer has.

The queasiness doubles. She can feel the cold seeping into her bones, turning them to ice. Abruptly, she turns and begins a brisk and somewhat clumsy walk back to the house. Sokka, well accustomed to trekking through deep snow, catches up absurdly quickly. 

“Sorry.” He mutters. “I thought that you’d like them.” 

Azula pauses to look at the lights once more. “I do.” She admits. “But I also like the nine fingers that I still have.”

She doesn’t mention how unsettled the landscape--and its horrific weather--makes her feel. 

How trapped.

How downright frightened. 

.oOo.

Sokka laughs. “That’s fair, I guess.” 

“You guess?” She whips around to face him. “How about this, I’ll amputate your finger and keep it for myself.”  She carries on with her stubborn, awkward-gaited stride, leaving him to dwell on her empty threat. 

“It didn’t change you much.” 

Azula brings her strides to a halt once more. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you’re still you. Even if you don’t have your memories.”

“Is that a good thing?”

Sokka considers the question; it is almost like a reset in some way. She is more like her old self; less impulsive, more logically driven. Sharp-staring and rational. And yet this is her more dangerous temperament. It is the one that had allowed her to burn and singe he and his friends. That helped her overthrow Ba Sing Se. He considers that cold and calculated, piercing stare and then that later vicious, more wild gleam in her eyes as she lashed out at his sister and at her own brother. He decides that he does wish that her amnesia would have left her softer, more timid. “Let’s talk about this inside.”

Azula doesn’t protest this suggestion but she doesn’t drop the topic now that they are back in the warmth of his home. “You think that it’s a bad thing.” She says simply. “Why? Who am I?” 

“I told you, I’ll tell you all about yourself on the boat ride home.”

“Home as in the Fire Nation  in general or home as in, to my home specifically.” 

“Your home.” He replies. “Your brother has been looking for you, believe it or not.” 

“I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t.” Azula shrugs and finds herself a seat closest to the fireplace. She ignites the wood within. 

Sokka cringes. “Yeah…” 

The way she stares at the fire gives him the impression that she has picked up on his wince. He could really use some more time under the lights. Maybe he should leave her to the comfort of the fire and return to his own happy place. 

“I shattered.” She speaks, leaving pause enough for Sokka to take in the crackle and pop of the fire. “In my nightmare my body froze and shattered.” 

Sokka isn’t sure if he is supposed to fill the gap with a reply.

“I don’t like it out there, Sokka. It’s too cold and the only memory I have of it is that it almost killed me and then took my finger to ensure that I’d never forget.” She gives another pause. “Do you know what it is like when your clearest memory...your only memory is that.” 

Sokka swallows. “That’s why I was trying to show you something pretty. It isn’t all harsh, it can be beautiful and kind.” He wonders if and hopes that the same can be said for the woman in front of him. 

She peels off her mittens and stares at her palms. “I suppose that I appreciate the attempt. Even though it was a dreadful one.”

“Was it though?” He quirks a brow.

“Alright. Fine. Those lights were rather incredible.” Azula admits. He watches her stretch herself out on the sofa and bundle herself up. “Stay with me?” She asks.

“There’s only one sofa.” 

“There’s plenty of floor.” She points out and gestures to a sleeping bag that is haphazardly laying on the ground.

“I can’t sleep on the floor.” 

The firebender frowns before snatching her pillow and curling up on the sleeping bag. 

“You can sleep on the floor?”

“No.” Azula replies. “But I...I won’t be able to sleep anyways, so you might as well keep me company.” 

Sokka sighs. “You can keep the sofa.” Joking or not, he decides that he won’t give her a hard time about not wanting to sleep alone. “I said that you can…” but she is already asleep. He almost forgot that she is still running a fever. He lifts her back onto the sofa and curls up on the sleeping back, wondering how he always manages to get the short end of the stick. 

He thinks that he is too sympathetic for his own good. 

“Hey.” She mumbles. Apparently she isn’t a heavy sleeper. He almost feels bad for having woken her. Not that she won’t fall right back asleep. 

“Yeah?”

“You’re taking me home tomorrow, right?” 

“I’m taking you home as soon as you stop coughing and sniffling.” 

She nods and rolls over, turning her back on him. As soon as he is certain that she is asleep, he wanders back outside--with a promise that he’ll be back inside before she can realize he’d left at all. He only wanders a little ways from the house before turning his face to the sky. Teal and green weave in and out of each other. He is going to miss them. But it will be nice to see Zuko and Aang again. And if he is lucky, Toph too. 

He just hopes that they will handle Azula’s arrival well. 

He looks out into the tundra, the dark and unforgiving openness. She’d made her way out of such a dismal place, he hopes that he can keep her in the light. 

The auroras roll and shift.

[stufftippywrote]

rescued

"This is not good. Oh, oh Lord, this is not good at all."

Bitty peers through the windshield. The snow is falling in curtains now, thick sheets of white that drift down heavy and soft onto the deserted highway. He runs his wipers a few more times, clears the view, then watches as the snow repaints it dot by frigid dot.

He should have known better than to think he could drive up to Massachusetts with a storm approaching. He should have canceled the trip, postponed it, made other plans. But the promise of a real white Christmas had sounded so intriguing, and Larissa had begged him to make the trip.

"You'll like Samwell," she'd told him. "It's pretty sweet." Which, from Larissa, was the equivalent of singing its praises from the rooftops. And the pictures she sent were so nice -- long flowing river, pond, green spaces on the local college campus coated with a dusting of snow.

What he wouldn't give for a dusting now!  But no, now, he's stopped by the side of the highway, Samwell a mere two miles away per the last sign he passed, his own fog lamps the only glare in the sea of white outside.

"Two miles!" Bitty tells the car, empty but for his suitcase and Senor Bun in the passenger seat. "Might as well be a thousand light years. We'll starve to death here, Bun, you and me. Or freeze to death, if the heat gives out first."

He's about to launch into another chapter of the solioquiy when lights appear, dim, in the rearview mirror. Oh, God, it's another car. Another car! He could be saved. Bitty puts on his emergencies. He flashes his brights off and on. He honks his horn, as the lights approach, hoping that whoever it is has at the very least a cell phone that's not hopelessly out of juice.

Whatever's coming toward him is bigger than a car. The back window may be coated with snow, but Bitty can see that much. Maybe it's a truck. Truck drivers are nice, right? Surely a truck driver will take pity on him and scoop him up no out of here.

No. It's not a truck. That scraping as it approaches... oh, thank heavens. It's a snowplow.

It's a snowplow, and it's slowing to a stop. It's stopped. Bitty's saved. Thank the snow gods.

A thud as a door shuts. and a figure rounds the front end of the plow to come knock on his window. Bitty hears a muffled shout. "Hello?"

Bitty rolls down the window a crack. Snow starts filtering in through his window like errant powdered sugar. He ignores it and fixes his gaze on the man outside -- what he can see of him, right now, which is just a wool hat and a pair of eyes.

Nice eyes, though. Blue eyes, maybe?

"Come on," says the stranger.

Bitty was expecting something else. "What?"

"Come on. You're not driving anywhere tonight." And dang it, he's right, Bitty's certainly in no position to move this car an inch, and he shouldn't plan on sleeping here if he can help it. He'll have to come back -- Larissa will have to drive him back -- and he'll have to recover his car tomorrow, after the snow stops.

Bitty grabs his suitcase and braces for the influx of snow to the face as he opens the driver's side door. It's a long, cold, and wet slog across the ten feet of space between him and the passenger side door of the snowplow's cab, and by the time he climbs all the way up there, his socks are soggy even through his boots, and his fingers are nearly numb.

He looks around. The cab is a generous space; behind the two seats, there's a whole host of what Bitty can only imagine is emergency equipment. On the dashboard, illuminated by the light above, there's a picture of a handsome-looking couple with a frankly not-so-cute baby boy between them. Hanging from the rear view mirror is a pair of plastic figures of ice skates.

His rescuer climbs into the driver's seat. Bitty lets himself relax. "Oh, my goodness, thank you so much," he says. "I didn't know if I was going to die out there, just freeze right into a popsicle overnight."

"Where are you headed?" The stranger pulls the scarf back from his face. Bitty takes a good look at him. And such a good look it is. The man's just downright handsome. Sharp cheekbones, chiseled jaw, like he climbed right on out of a superhero comic strip to rescue Bitty from the elements. Despite the chill of his wet clothing, Bitty feels a bit flushed.

"Samwell," he answers. "Isn't that just ridiculous? I'm driving all the way from Georgia and two miles short of my destination, I end up at the side of the road. With my phone drained, no less, and I've never been up this way before! Honestly, I should know better--" At that point, Bitty becomes acutely aware of his own babble. He falls silent with a blush.

"That's quite a road trip," his rescuer says as he eases the plow into motion. "I'm Jack."

"Jack." It's even a superhero name. Bitty's cheeks stay hot. "I'm. Bittle. Eric Bittle."

"Bittle." Jack gives him a bit of a smile, lips just turned up. "That's an interesting name."

"Interesting? It's a perfectly good name." Bitty is immediately ready to defend his Southern pedigree. "It doesn't--" And then he remembers his own nickname. "Does this have anything to do with my height?"

"Your height?" And oh no, now he's gone and called attention to it. Bitty sits up just as tall as he can in the passenger side seat.

"I-- never mind." Bitty turns to peer out the window, watching the white-covered husk that is his car disappear slowly behind them. "Anyway. If you could drop me off at a hotel?"

"I can take you into town." Jack's words are low and easy. "Where were you headed?"

"My friend's house." Bitty fumbles in his pocket for the address. "Well, she's an online friend. We're meeting for the first time, face to face, you know."

"Oh. So like a Tinder date? Is that what it's called?" Jack looks briefly confused that such a thing even exists.

Bitty sputters. "No! She's... I..." Well, he's in Massachusetts now, isn't he? He can say it. "I'm gay." And oh goodness, he just up and said it. Every time Bitty thinks he can't become any more flustered, he proves himself wrong.

"Oh." Jack glances at him briefly, but doesn't give any further response.

Bitty hastens to explain himself anyway. "It's just that I can't really be gay where I'm from. But people online are a lot more understanding. So she's been a friend. And she invited me to come up for Christmas. So I thought I'd go. That's all."

Jack's eyes are kind. "That's nice."

There's a bit of silence. The CB radio wedged in near the gear shift crackles. Bitty glances at Jack, wondering what drives any man to willingly go out in a storm like this. Lord knows if he lived up here, Bitty would be huddled inside with hot chocolate if he had any say in the matter. But Jack -- Jack really is a kind of superhero, Bitty thinks. A handsome hero that's rescued him from an icy death. That's downright romantic.

The exit for Samwell comes up, and Jack eases the plow into the right-hand lane. "What's your friend's address?" he asks. Bitty reads it out loud. Jack nods. "I know the street."

"You have an accent," Bitty ventures.

Jack breaks into a laugh. "I have an accent?"

"Well, okay, I know that is pot-and-kettle territory, but--"

"No, it's okay." Jack's smile is dizzying, his profile sharp as a streetlight illuminates him with diffuse orange light. "I'm from up north. Montreal."  

"Oh." Bitty gestures up toward the rear-view mirror. "That explains the hockey skates."

Jack glances at him again, this time a little more curiously. "You know they're hockey skates?"

"Of course! I know my skates."

"I didn't think they had ice skates in Georgia."

Is he making fun? Bitty bristles. "I'll have you know that junior regional figure skating champions can indeed be born and bred in Georgia, and you happen to be sitting next to one." Jack's lips twitch, and Bitty's immediately self-conscious. "Well. All right, that was a decade ago. Now I coach the next generation."

"You're a skating coach?" Jack turns a corner.

"Mm-hm. Do you skate?" Bitty glances at the skates again. "I suppose you play hockey."

"Sometimes," Jack says. He peers through the windshield. "This looks like the address."

"Oh." Bitty looks out the window. It's a nice house, if a bit dilapidated, but more importantly... "It's all dark."

Jack nods. "The power's out. Looks like it's the whole block."

And oh gosh, he's right, aside from a few dimly orange streetlamps the entire block is dark. Images dance through Bitty's head. Poor Larissa, stuck in the pitch black, freezing to death, because who could survive a night this cold and snowy? Bitty turns to Jack with hands clasped. "Oh, no. She'll be trapped in there! What do we do?"

Jack gestures toward the back seat of the cab. "I have a generator. If we can shovel our way in, we can get her set up with it for the night."

"Oh!" Bitty lights up, but a moment later he's crestfallen again. "But you have to go plow streets, don't you? You can't take the time to shovel out one person's yard." Jack catches his gaze. "Bittle," he says. "I do this job to help people. You and your friend count."

Bitty's dizzy for a moment. Jack's a presence like hot chocolate on a winter's day. Warm, strong, comforting. Sweet. Bitty wants to drown in him. If only he weren't just making a road trip from down south. If only he had the luxury of being local. Imagine living here, being able to be himself. Meet an attractive man and actually entertain the idea of getting to know him better. Yes. Bitty wishes that was his life.

Several minutes later, though, he's ready to take it all back. Who in the hell would want to deal with this all the time?

"Put your back into it!" Jack hollers from a few paces away. He's working tirelessly to clear Larissa's front walkway, bending his legs and heaving shovelful after shovelful to his left. Bitty follows, and tries to do his part, but dear Lord, snow is heavy!  

"Look," Bitty hollers back at him, "just because you're the size of a semi..." and, from a few steps back, Bitty's got a view of Jack's rear that bears up that comparison. That is definitely the ass of a hockey player. He shouldn't be staring, but how can he help it?

"No excuse. Come on." Jack bends his knees and takes a heaping scoop out of the walkway. Bitty tries to ape his movements, but it's still not easy. His fingers and toes are numbing, and even though the snow that's still floating down is pretty, it's getting into his face and making it hard to see. He wipes his eyes and cheek with one sleeve of his parka and gets back at it.

There's a kind of serenity out here, even though Bitty's now soaked from both sweat and snow. The scrape of the shovels against the snow is a soft, irregular percussion to a night that's otherwise amost unnaturally quiet. Bitty is used to Georgia nights, with the buzzing of mosquitoes and the chirps of crickets backing up the sounds of distant traffic on the freeway. But here, with the streets abandoned and with the only motion the slow steady rush of snowfall, Bitty feels like he and Jack are lone explorers in a foreign world. Methodically, stubbornly, clearing away the hush of an alien landscape to uncover something familiar. Together.

Warmth in his belly rising at the image, Bitty glances up at Jack--

--and immediately gets pelted in the face with a clump of snow.

Any thoughts of warmth vanish. Bitty shakes it off  and stares now simply in incredulity at Jack, who has this tiny, impish smile on his face that says he's far too pleased with himself.  

The smile is cute enough to melt over, but Bitty tries to summon up some rage anyhow. "Really, Jack? A snowball fight? Now?"

"Is there a better time?"

Bitty does his best to fume. "Honestly! This is serious! Lardo could be frozen solid in there for all we know."

"Not if that's her in the window," Jack says, hooking a thumb toward the house.

Bitty turns, gaping. There she is -- holding a candle in one hand and waving with the other -- there's Larissa! His heart leaps, and he grins and waves back. They've been exchanging emails and Skype sessions for so long, and now they're just a few scoops of shoveled snow away from meeting in person. Jubilantly, Bitty turns back to clearing the path.

"Did you call her Lardo?" Jack asks over his shoulder.

"Oh!" Bitty laughs. "Screen names, you know. She's Larissa, but her name online is Lardo. Mine is Bitty."

"Screen names, huh?" Jack leans on his shovel, resting. "But 'Bitty' is nice. I like that."

His smile is sweet and fond. Something leaps in Bitty's chest, and he has to swallow it down. He takes a step toward Jack, boots scuffing against the newly cleared walkway. "Sometimes people even call me Bits," he volunteers.

"I like that even better," Jack says.

A tiny dot of falling snow finds a perch right on the tip of Bitty's nose. Jack lifts a gloved hand and brushes it off. The night is very still.

"Bits!"

The door bursts open. Lardo, shivering in a sweater but with a face full of delight, opens her arms wide. Whatever moment had been building with Jack is gone, but here's a new moment ready to be made, and Bitty runs up the steps to the porch to give Lardo the biggest, wettest hug of her life.

"Jeez, you're soaked," Lardo declares, holding Bitty at arm's length. "Did you pull up in that plow?"

"Oh, my God!" Bitty goes into animated storytelling mode."My car is still sitting somewhere on 95, but Jack here rescued me and..." He gestures in the direction of where Jack was a few seconds ago, but he's absent. Another look up the path clears that up. "Oh, he's prolly gettin' the generator. He said he'd set you up with it for the night so you wouldn't freeze to death."

"Pff. There's heat in the house. So get inside." She ushers him in through the front door, then closes it behind them. "Gimme your coat."

"But Jack--"

Lardo fixes him with an are you stupid? look. "I'm not leaving the door open for the heat to escape." She extends her hand again, and this time Bitty shrugs off his parka and offers it to her, taking stock of the house around him as he does. It's not a bad little house, and thank goodness, it is warm, warm, warm. Through an open doorway, Bitty spies a comfortable-looking couch suffounded by lit candles. He wants to collapse right onto it and pass out.

But by then, Jack's knocking on the front door. Lardo lets him in, closes the door. "Hi," she says. "You're Jack."

"Uh. Yes." There's a note of confusion in Jack's voice.

"Thanks for shoveling. And for that." She gestures at the generator Jack has in hand. "I'm Larissa."

"Lardo, I hear." Jack's eyes dance in the light of the candles lining the entryway.

Lardo grins. "Yep."

"Nice." Jack nods.

And Bitty has never seen two people instantly become friends before, but there's a first time for everything.

Lardo takes Jack's coat, then leads him down a darkened hallway toward the basement. Bitty makes a beeline for the couch. Settling down into it, with candles flickering all around, he feels something inside him relax and unspool. He made it. No more freezing or shivering or wondering when the snow is going to stop. He's here.

A motor starts somewhere in the depths of the house, and a moment later, the lights come on all at once. Bitty hears Lardo and Jack coming back up the stairs. "Sit down," Lardo admonishes Jack, "I'm putting on hot water for tea or cocoa. Or whatever."

Jack appears in the doorway, ambles over to the couch. Without his coat on, Bitty can see better the shape of his body, the lean sprawl of his limbs. His legs stretch out forever in front of him as he leans back on the couch, tipping his head so his chin juts toward the ceiling. He makes a soft noise of contentment, and Bitty's imagination goes everywhere with that noise.

"Thanks for helping us out," Bitty says gently.

Jack tilts his head toward him. "No problem." He pauses. "You did a good job, too. For someone who's never shoveled snow before."

"And I'm gonna feel it in the morning." Bitty stretches out, raising his arms over his head, then extending them wide.

And come to think of it, this pose is actually good for something.

"C'mon," he tells Jack, a tad reproachfully.

"Huh?"

"You helped me get here," Bitty explains. "I have to at least hug you."

Jack's eyebrows shoot up. "At least?"

"Well." Bitty turns red. "Anyway, I have to hug you."

Jack eases closer on the couch. His expression is quizzical for an instant, but then it relaxes, and he stretches out his arms to pull Bitty close.

Oh. Goodness. This is ... a lot of warmth, and a lot of man, and Bitty's overwhelmed. He's dreamed about, fantasized about something like this more often than he can count, but he's never had it, and having it might just kill him. Oh, he wants this closeness, he wants this warmth, for longer than a moment. Longer than a night. Longer than a Christmas vacation up north can allow him. But if this is what he gets, he'll take it. He lets his head bob aginst Jack's chest, curls his fingers around the curve of Jack's shoulder, and sighs.

It's maybe another minute before he realizes Jack isn't pulling away. That Jack's hand on his waist is cinched as tight as Bitty's own hands are pressed to Jack's sweater. Full of questions, unable to come up with the words to any of them, he lets Jack guide him gently into a comfortable sitting embrace against the couch cushions, his weight on Jack's chest, Jack's arm bent posessively around his shoulders.

It's so warm. So good. Bitty has to remember to breathe.

"So," Jack says in a soft voice. "I probably have to go back and plow some more tonight."

Disappointment sinks like a cold stone in Bitty's gut. "Yeah."

"But I have to come back to pick up my generator when the power goes back on."

"Oh." That sounds like an opening, but Bitty can't quite find the words to fill it.

Jack's arm is tense around Bitty's shoulder, and his voice is halting. "I could ... take you back to pick up your car."  

Bitty's heart does a few funny things at once. It leaps, because Jack's being kind to him (and stil holding him, Jack's still holding him!), but it also sinks, because Lardo's got her own car and can probably take care of that, so it wouldn't be polite to make Jack go out of his way. The up-and-down motion is making Bitty slightly queasy. "Um," he says, "Well, while I'm in town...."

"And since you're in town--" Jack says at the same time.

They laugh. Jack's chuckle, a delicious low rumble, vibrates into Bitty's body. He straightens up a bit, enough to look at Jack's face.

Oh, goodness. He's so close. A whisper away. Bitty wants to kiss him more than anything else in the world right now. He averts his eyes, knowing he's flushed, heart pounding. "You first," he says shyly.

"I thought..." Jack's picking his words carefully, thinking about them. "Since you're not from here... you might like. Well. Samwell's a nice town."

Dots of color appear in Jack's cheeks. Bitty stares. It dawns on him, then, and it's not like he didn't suspect it before, but now it's clear. Bitty's heart, which has been so unruly over the past few minutes, now feels like it's going to burst.

"And," Jack goes on, still cautious, "I could show you around. Although. I suppose your friend Lardo's going to do that. Um."

Bitty grabs his hand. "Jack," he says with real feeling, "I would love for you to show me around Samwell."

Jack lights up. "Yeah?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. ... what did you say your last name was?"

"Zimmermann."

"Zimmermann!" Bitty laughs. "And here you thought Bittle was a funny last name. That works, though. Jack Zimmermann. It sounds like the name of a celebrity. An athlete, maybe! You could be a--"

And he never gets to finish that sentence, because Jack is kissing him.

It's all the magic of a snowfall and then some. Jack's lips on his like a gift. The candles around them. The cold brush of Jack's nose, the warmth of his chest when Bitty takes hold of the front of his sweater. Jack raises a hand to cup Bitty's cheek. Bitty gasps into the kiss.

Jack pulls back at the noise. "I ... sorry, I shouldn't have."

"Yes, Mr. Zimmermann," Bitty murmurs, still feeling the honey tingle on his lips. "Yes, you definitely should have."

He presses in close to Jack again, dares to lean up and dart a kiss onto his mouth. Jack glows. "I'll come back tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow." Bitty murmurs. "Okay."

"Pff."

They both turn. Lardo's standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. Her smile is wicked. "Don't let me interrupt you."

"You're--" Bitty extricates himself from Jack's embrace in a hurry. "You're not interrupting anything! It's just... it's just sometimes you get to shoveling snow with a guy, and one thing leads to another and--"

"Chyeah. I see." Lardo walks over to the couch and pats Bitty's head like he's a puppy. "You're good, Bits. Come into the kitchen when you're ready for cocoa, kay?" She winks and leaves the room, humming.

Bitty looks at Jack sheepishly. "I s'pose we ought to get in there. I did drive up all this way to meet her."

"Of course. And I should go." Jack stands. "I ... it was nice to meet you."

Bitty snorts out a laugh. "Nice to meet me, you just kissed me, dear Lord, Jack Zimmermann!"

"I--" Jack fumbles, then he lets out a laugh of his own. "I guess I did."

"And you owe me one more before you go. Now get your coat back on, Mr. Zimmermann, don't think you're going back out there without being all wrapped up." Bitty fusses over Jack until he's got hat, scarf and gloves all back on, then walks him to the front door. This may be the craziest thing he's done in his life, driving across state lines and into snowstorms and meeting new old friends and kissing strange men. But his heart is glowing with excitement, and he is beyond ready for whatever tomorrow brings. After a change of socks and a night's sleep, that is.

Jack gives him that promised second kiss at the door. Bitty watches, fingers on his lips, as Jack traipses back down the path toward his snowplow. Then he shuts the door and hurries toward the kitchen to tell Lardo absolutely everything.

[allyinthekeyofx]

Up, up and away 1/1

Written in response to the ‘Hot air balloon’ requirement for this weeks challenge from @txf-prompt-box and also tagging @today-in-fic

Included in this is also a prompt from a while ago from @shalomksenia ‘I don’t care what they think and you shouldn’t either’

It’s sort of semi-AU.  Post revival, the world didn’t end but it was a little ropey for a while.  I will completely gloss over how they saved the world, how Mulder was cured, what happened on that damn bridge or how they found William.  Just take it as read that it all happened and we have time-jumped a couple of years to this pointless piece of nonsense.  @baronessblixen here’s that fluff I promised you :D

Up, up and away.

When Mulder told me he had something special planned for my birthday, I have to admit that, even given that my partner’s taste in entertainment can be described as quirky when I am feeling generous - and downright unfathomable when I’m not, the sight that greeted me when it became clear we had reached our destination and his ‘surprise’ hove into view was the last thing I had imagined over the past week or so when I had grilled him on a daily basis as to what he had planned.

The only information he would divulge through those glorious lips of his was that I would need to wrap up warm and wear sensible footwear, which frankly, knowing Mulder the way I do could have literally meant anything.

But I went along with his almost giddy excitement because after all, it had been a while since he had been in a place where he had even acknowledged my birthday, the darkness having stole upon him slowly and insidiously until really, he stopped noticing anything much at all.  Not to mention that my last birthday, while we were reconciled in every sense possible, went by virtually unnoticed anyway in a haze of fear and frustration as the world got sicker and sicker and I had watched him continue to fade before my horrified eyes.  But the world hadn’t ended and although the cost to humanity had been enormous, with typical resilience, the human race had prevailed and even more crucially, so had he.

But even so, I was still taken aback by the sight, which although beautiful, was wholly unexpected and I couldn’t imagine why he had brought me here, I mean, I would never admit it to him but I had quietly hoped for something with a little more romance that might justify the 4am wake-up call and the subsequent drive on icy roads that led us to this immense stretch of frigid grassland in a quiet corner of rural virginia.

And I know my incredulity must have shown on my face even as I felt my eyebrow quirk in his direction.

“Balloons Mulder?”

Seemingly undeterred by my apparent lack of enthusiasm he just grinned broadly and popped yet another sunflower seed.

“Balloon festival Scully.”

I have to admit though that it was quite an arresting sight.  It was just a little before 6am when we arrived and the winter dawn was as yet just a faint hint of golden light on the horizon against an inky blue sky, the stars twinkling faintly, visible even as night and day jostled for position above us.  And below, scores and scores of brightly coloured balloons, glowing like chinese lanterns as the roar of butane flame warmed the air and filled the canopies, a sight that was almost ethereal in quality and which, despite myself, gave me a feeling of childlike wonderment as to what I was witnessing.

He had taken my hand in his once we exited the car and even though I was wearing fleece gloves, I was glad of even the smallest of transferred heat because february dawns in rural virginia are nothing if not freezing cold and I had shivered as soon as the air hit my exposed skin.

It had snowed a few days ago and whilst it had rapidly turned to a wet, slushy mess on the streets of DC, out here it was still sereny perfect, the thin crust of ice crystals that sat upon it’s surface crunching satisfyingly beneath our feet with each step we took and sending up puffs of the powdery snow that glittered like tiny diamonds in the strange half light and the closer we got to where the balloons were tethered, the warmer I became, the heat of the flames warming the frigid air around us.

I was surprised actually by the amount of people who had chosen to leave the warmth of their saturday morning beds to make a trip out to see this spectacle of colour, noise and light, weaving my way around them as Mulder held on tightly to my hand, moving forwards with a purpose that suggested he knew exactly where he was going and exactly what he was looking for.

And then I saw it - standing proudly between a ladybug and a basketball was a huge green alien-head balloon complete with menacingly black eyes and bizarrely, what looked like a pink fedora perched atop its head at a jaunty angle. I have to admit, it made for a pretty impressive balloon; if you liked that sort of thing of course and judging by the goofy expression on Mulder’s face, he of course, all too clearly did.

“C’mon Scully, let’s get our picture taken in the basket.”

I must admit I had baulked at the suggestion, I mean, I am a federal agent with a medical degree who is the wrong side of fifty and I admit it, I have a pretty rigid way of behaving in public; and doing the touristy thing of waving at a camera whilst standing beneath a giant fire-illuminated alien head wasn’t too high up on my list of ways to draw attention to myself.

But there was no stopping my partner as he fairly dragged me to the base of that pink-hatted monstrosity and literally threw a ten dollar bill at the rather neanderthal looking guy who was taking the pictures before virtually leaping into the creaking wicker box from the handy metal two-step stool that sat beside it, grinning at me as he extended his hand in a typical Mulderesque act of chivalry so as to help me make the transition from solid ground to wicker.  Of course I didn’t deny him because I am pretty much incapable of denying mulder anything - especially given the amount of times I have almost lost him and even though this isn’t exactly my idea of a stellar birthday treat, I humoured him because I knew that this little early morning jaunt had come from his heart and I adored him for it.

I was surprised and more than a little embarrassed though when, the minute my feet touched the slightly roughened base of the basket he pulled me into his arms and without preamble, he pressed his lips to mine; lips that even in the freezing temperatures were as warm and soft and achingly comforting as they have always been.  But even so, we were in public and I could feel a flush spreading across my face as I pulled away from him slightly.

“Mulder stop.  There are people looking at us.”

And he tipped his head in that endearing way of his that reminds me of dagoo when he sees something he doesn’t quite understand and smiled gently at me.

“I don’t care what they think Scully....and you shouldn’t either.  We’ve more than earned our right to behave inappropriately in public places don’t you think?”

I laughed then and placed my palms against his chest, allowing him to wrap his arms around me, pulling me close as he once again dropped his lips to mine, the kiss this time more intense, sending small tremors of pleasure down my back as the sights and sounds around us faded away until there was only him because really, there has only ever been him and I let my eyelids flutter shut, melting against him as he paused for a second to murmur words I didn’t quite register until it was too late to stop what was about to happen.

“Hold on Scully, because the earth is about to move for us.”

And the balloon began to rise, the ground beneath our feet, suddenly replaced with a floating sensation that liquefied my bones and sent my heart up into my throat I was suddenly gripped with a vice like sense of panic; because we were in the basket of an alien-head hot air balloon that was now rapidly ascending into the lightening sky - and even more terrifying was the fact that we're alone.

******************

It soon became apparent as we drifted lazily above the virginian countryside that Mulder had planned far more than a simple trip to a balloon festival and once my blind panic had subsided somewhat, it was clear that in some unfathomable way, not only did he know how to pilot the balloon, he also knew in which direction we needed to go.  I have no idea how or when he had found time to learn and really, that was something I would discover at a later time because right at that moment it just didn’t seem to matter.

He had smiled softly at me, imploring me with his beautiful eyes to please enjoy this experience and really, how could I not?  The level of planning that had gone into this whole thing was incredible in it’s complexity and I’m not sure that I had ever loved him as much as did at that single moment in time when he had reached down between us to a medium sized hamper I hadn’t noticed earlier, withdrawing a soft woolen blanket and carefully draping it around my shoulders to give extra protection against the chill morning sky we now found ourselves in. Then came a large thermos that contained steaming hot chocolate and finally a container of plump, juicy, sugar- frosted strawberries that he fed me adoringly as I gazed transfixed at the snowy landscape beneath us, awed by the silence, by the sheer beauty of it all but also that even after all these years this incredible, passionate man, despite everything we had gone through and all that we had lost, could still surprise me in ways I could never have imagined.

And I’m not sure i ever felt so at peace as I did right then as he stood behind me, enveloping me in the warmth of him as he rested his chin atop my head and just allowed us to be, as he piloted the balloon across the countryside and took us home.

I spotted the house when it was still just a dot in the distance, the roads beneath us well traveled and familiar, recognisable even from that unique vantage he had created and as always, my breath caught in my throat when I saw it, gradually getting closer and more discernable - a house so unremarkable in appearance but one which had seen us fall and fight and love and flee from each other.  A house that somehow, we had always found our way back to and which continued to be my safe place, nestled in the tall grasses and trees that surrounded it would always represent the struggles we had faced and the victories that had been hard fought along the way.

And more recently it also represents family.  Our precious son who, in ways I had never dared hope for, had found us again; because even though we will always acknowledge that he has a whole other life that is separate from us, with people he loves and who love him, finally, in some small way we are able to have a piece of him that belongs only to us; getting to know him and the person he has become during the long years when I yearned to hold him in my arms and find a way to justify to him why we had had to do what we did.

He visits as often as he can, when school and family commitments allow and I will be forever grateful that his parents not only give their blessing but encourage him to form a relationship with us - the two people who gave him away just to allow him to grow and flourish far from the threat of harm that darkened our lives and sent us fleeing from everything we knew.

But the past is the past and with each visit, each phone call, each e-mail the hurt lessens just a little more and the guilt is replaced with a sense of pride that what we did was right.

Then suddenly, as we drift closer to the house I see two figures standing on the porch waving, the taller instantly recognisable as Skinner and the other.......

I gasp and turn to Mulder who is smiling softly at me, his eyes flickering down to where our son stands below us. waving both arms above his head in greeting as daggoo gallops in circles around him, barking madly in excitement at the sight of us as William starts to laugh.

My son, now a young man, so much like his Father it almost hurts to look at him because it reminds me of all I almost lost, my son who called only last night and never mentioned a thing.

Then just before the balloon touches the ground once again, I feel Mulder’s lips graze the soft skin just behind the shell of my ear, his breath whispering against my hair.

“Happy Birthday Scully.”

And it is.  It really is.

End 

[kill-your-idols]

destination

Cullen Rutherford & Evie Trevelyan 1974 Words

It had taken him weeks to reach his destination. His journey had begun with days of contemplation, deciding whether he should even do it. He thought of every reason for it, every reason against. He conjured every situation surrounding it, the mundane to the phantasmal. He weighed the pros against the cons. And in the end, the decision was made. He would do it.

Days were put aside to determine the best way to go about it. He had options. Too many, in fact. He could go about it any way he wanted. Once again, he counted the positives and the negatives. Each method had its own merits and its own downfalls. He made a choice he thought would be best for everyone who was involved. He could only pray it wasn’t the wrong one.

The next week was spent picking a date. There were a great many factors to consider. Winter was coming to an end, the snow would melt, the evenings would become warm, and the streets would become more lively at night. It would have to happen in the middle of the night, before the snow was gone. He didn’t want to make a fuss. No one need see his departure. No one outside of his life need know about it. This was for them after all. His gift to the people he loved most.

On the date of his choosing, he spent his day feeling lighter than he had in months, years even. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That night, once it was late enough to almost be considered the next day, he left his sister’s house with a skip in his step. A smile brightened his tired features as he strode down the desolate street. He felt the joy and relief of a man about to cross the finish line after a long, arduous race.

Now he stood at his final destination. The bridge was tall, well-built. It was a true marvel of engineering, in his humble opinion. The river that the steel and asphalt construct crossed over was at least a hundred feet below. The frigid rapids were a danger to those who toppled in from the bank; they meant certain death to any who fell from the bridge. At least once a year there would be a story of an unfortunate soul who made the one-way trip into the river. In such a small town, where everyone knew everyone else’s business and everyone watched out for and took care of their neighbor, no one had ever taken that plunge on purpose.

Until now.

He took a deep breath, suddenly nervous about the next few moments. There was no second thoughts about his decision. No, he was worried he would be the first outlier. He was terrified he would live. Pushing the thought from his mind, he climbed over the steel bars to stand on the small ledge on the other side. There was nothing between him now but his own force of will. He need only relax his grip on the railing behind him and he could tumble into sweet oblivion. It would finally be over. For him. For his family. Everything would be better. All he had to do was let go.

“Hello.”

The meek voice nearly sent him falling before he could make the final decision for himself. For a moment, he thought his mind or the wind was playing a trick on him; there couldn’t possibly be someone out at this time of night in the dead of winter. However, when he peeked over his shoulder, there she stood. Whoever she was, she was dressed for the cold, at least, unlike him. While he had come out in only faded jeans, a worn hoodie, and dirty sneakers, she wore a heavy, black parka with a fur-lined hood pulled up to shield her from the freezing winds. In addition, she wore a thick wool scarf and matching violet mittens. She looked downright cozy to him. A pair of worried emerald eyes watched him closely. And when she parted her full lips to speak again, he forced himself to look away.

“Do you need-”

“I don’t need anything,” he shouted toward the river. “Or anyone. Or… I’m doing quite well, I assure you. Thank you for your concern.” Not a sound came from behind him. Not even the patter of her boots against the sidewalk signalling that she had left. Chancing a look over his shoulder, his eyes landed on her pink-tipped freckled nose. Nothing could ever be easy. Not for him. “You’re wasting your time, miss. I’ve made my decision,” he assured her with a firm nod.

A long minute of silence hung in the air before finally she spoke again, confusing him to no end. “Alright. Then perhaps I could just stay with you? I know if I was about to… I just don’t think anyone should be alone in moments like this. Or would really desire to be. Sure, someone might say they want to be alone but most of the time they’re not being truthful. They say humans are social creatures and I think that’s pretty accurate. I mean, even I like to have someone around once in awhile, and I’ve always preferred the company of plants to people, to tell you the honest truth.” She rambled on and on while taking slow steps toward the railing. Less than a foot down the railing from his position on the other side, she perched herself on the raised curb and paused to take a breath. “My name is Evie, by the way. Would you mind telling me yours?”

He stared mystified at Evie. “Cullen… I’m Cullen…”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cullen.” The warmth in her eyes and tenderness in her smile told him she was being sincere.

They remained silent for several minutes after that. Cullen tried in vain to puzzle out his current situation while Evie seemed perfectly content to simply sit there for the rest of the night. She gazed up at the stars, a smile never leaving her lips. “It’s a lovely night,” she said in a casual tone. “A tad chilly, though.”

“If you’re cold you can go,” Cullen snapped. This had gotten out of hand. He had made his decision. He had a plan. It was a sound plan and then this girl comes along and ruins it all. He felt like screaming, like weeping. He felt like climbing back over the railing to give her a proper dressing-down.

“Oh, no. I’m quite alright. My coat is very warm. I thought perhaps you might be cold, Cullen. But I suppose not.”

“Evie…” His voice was tight, throat aching from the strain of not shouting at her again.

“Yes, Cullen?” When he didn’t respond she continued. “Whatever it is, you can say it. I’m listening. I’m here. I’m not going to judge you or take offense. Just let it out. I’m here for you.”

The carefully constructed walls Cullen had erected around himself crumbled then. He wanted to confide in her, needed to. He couldn’t explain it. His family been so supportive but he had stopped talking to them about it all. Perhaps it was the fact that she was a stranger. She had no obligations to him and he had none to her. There was no real reason for her to be there. Yet, she was there. She was listening.

“I don’t sleep anymore,” he began tentatively. “It’s been months since I had a peaceful night. My family, they tried to help. They really did. They were so understanding but I could see how my troubles were starting to wear on them. They have their own lives to live. I couldn’t keep burdening them. It isn’t fair. I started lying to them. Told them I was getting better, that I was alright. I wanted to be well for them. I just want them to be happy.” He barely spoke above of whisper, his voice cracking with the tears rolling down his cheeks. “They’ll be better off without me.”

He didn’t pull away when a mittened hand settled over his. He allowed Evie to gently rub his freezing fingers while she let him openly sob for the first time in months. After a moment, he had calmed down a little. Then she spoke again, with such certainty in her soft voice he couldn’t argue. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but that’s not true. You love your family and they love you. That’s quite apparent from the little bit you’ve told me. They would not be better off without you. They’d be lost.” She curled her fingers around his, squeezing his hand. “I can’t stop you, Cullen. But I am urging you to take more time. Think about the choice you’re about to make. It’s not one you can take back. How will your family feel knowing they’ve lost you forever?”

A fresh wave of anguish washed over Cullen. Tears stung his eyes and streamed down his cheeks unhindered. He thought about the day he and his siblings lost their parents. He could still hear their mournful sobbing now, remembered his older sister having to explain to their younger siblings that mom and dad were never coming home. That night, Mia had been strong for them. Until the middle of night, when she thought everyone was asleep. He, Branson, and Rosalie had found their sister crying alone. They had promised each other that none of them would ever have to bear such a burden alone. They mourned their parents together. And continued to do so to this day. To give them another reason to mourn and not be there to help them carry the weight was not something he could do.

Carefully, Cullen turned around on the precarious ledge. His legs were unsteady and his hands were numbed from the winter air but he managed to make it back over the railing unscathed. Once he was safely back on the sidewalk, his knees buckled. He knelt in the snow, sobbing without shame or restraint.

Warmth surrounded him as Evie settled her parka on his trembling shoulders. She settled on her knees in the snow in front of him, wrapping her scarf around his neck with care. “My coat doesn’t really fit you, I know, but it’s warm.” She offered him caring smile while trying to fit his large hands into her much-too-small mittens. She took her cellphone from her sweater pocket and held it out for him to see. “I’d like to call for help now,” she explained. “But I’ll give you a choice. I think you should go to the hospital, you need to talk to someone who can really help you. But just like before, I can’t force you. I could call your family instead but I will have to tell them why you were out here and I have faith they’ll want you to go as well. Either way, you’ll get the help you need but how you go about it is up to you, Cullen.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, Cullen was sitting in the back of an ambulance. He was no longer wearing Evie’s winter gear; one of the emergency responders had him wrapped in a heated blanket and was now taking his vitals. The other stood outside the open doors, speaking with a police officer and Evie. Cullen watched his rescuer as she spoke to two men. He didn’t have the words to describe how grateful he was to her. Though he knew he had a long road ahead of him, she had stopped him from making a decision he would never be able to take back. She had set him on a new, better journey.

Thanks to Evie, Cullen had a whole new destination.

Thank you for reading. ✿ Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. ❤

[onlylovekpop]

Animals | Chapter Forty-Six

The alpha and his beta trotted through the snow, relieved the storm had stopped for the most part. The white powder flurried into the air as they breezed through, striding firmly to the meeting place.

With the heat fading away, everyone remembered the situation at hand and only a day later, a scout arrived requesting Yixing to meet with Yunho nearby.

“Take me with you,” insisted Chanyeol. “I’m your warrior.”

“That is why you will remain with your alpha,” said Yixing, looking at Aela. “When I’m gone, she is the leader of this family and it is your responsibility to protect her.”

Chanyeol turned to Aela and earned himself a comforting smile. Yixing angled to Miyune and added, “Yours too.”

Miyune nodded and replied, “Yes, alpha.”

Aela approached her lover, putting her hands on his chest and staring into his eyes. “Please, be careful,” she whispered tenderly.

“I will,” said Yixing, kissing her nose. “He wants to meet and talk. I’m not the one he’s after.”

“You’re sure?” Aela questioned.

Yixing shrugged. “As sure as I can be, but I want to talk to him. I want to convince him we have no battle with him. I need to keep him far from you.”

At that, Aela pressed her lips to his, lingering as long as she could until Yixing and Luhan left the house and headed north.

That was this morning. Now, an eerie silence had snared the house. Aela paced the foyer without pause, thinking of what could happen. She bit her lip until the skin cracked and blood trickled into her mouth.

Suddenly, Minseok and Soyeon burst through the front door, having been on their rounds as sentinels.

“Alpha,” Minseok announced unsurely. “We have a big male on approach.”

“Yunho?” asked Aela with widening eyes.

Minseok nodded.

“I should have known,” Aela groaned, running a hand through her hair.

Yuna shuffled to Aela’s side and panicked, “But he said…”

Aela faced her beta and nodded. “He lured them away,” she sighed.

Yuna’s features paled, overwhelmed with fear.

In perfect sync, Miyune and Chanyeol stepped forward, one on either side of Aela, and the latter said, “We protect the alpha.”

Aela turned, offering them both smiles of gratitude with a short bow of her head. Then, she angled to Yuna and ordered, “The rest of you lock yourselves in here. By any means necessary, you keep him and his pack out of this house. Do we understand each other?”

Baekhyun and Halla were the first to nod.

Aela’s tone was stern, authoritative, and her family loved her all the more for it. It was clear her sole focus was the defense of her siblings.

Sehun stepped forward, murmuring, “I’m fast. I can go after Yixing and Luhan. I can bring them back here.”

“It’s too late for that now. Focus on protecting each other,” Aela asserted.

Yuna agreed with a nod. Sehun respected her judgment.

Aela turned to her beta and spoke, “I don’t know why he’s here, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good. If something happens to me, please tell Yixing I love him. I love him more than life itself.”

Yuna’s face tensed, as if she wanted to cry, and shuddered when she replied, “I will, my alpha.”

“Thank you,” Aela sighed, giving her family one last glance before taking a breath. Then, she turned to the doors and opened them.

Boots crunched loudly in the snow as Aela strode with her pair of warriors. Chanyeol and Miyune flanked her in battle formation, constantly searching the world around them for signs and any means of strategy.

It was Aela’s decision to meet Yunho before he reached the house. She wanted the others to have as much time as they could to prepare for a possible attack. It was admirable, but she knew Yixing would never forgive her for it.

But something told Aela the time was too conspicuous for Yunho to be coming specifically when Yixing and Luhan were away. It meant he had been watching and intentionally wanted to speak to Aela without Yixing’s resistance. If his motive was to fight Yixing into submission, this move didn’t show it.

Aela was a female; she hoped that meant Yunho would not be visiting her with the intent of violence. From what Luhan had said, Yunho was not so different from Yifan when it came to power and strength.

Aela shuddered at the thought. She knew the most she could do was slow Yunho down, but she wondered if he was merciful or brutal. Would he flinch at the thought of ending her life?

With the house still in sight, Aela came to a stop near a small frozen stream, her exhales forming a cloud in the frigid air. The snow had stopped for the time being and the day was bright, but still winter made itself known.

“Are you nervous?” asked Miyune quietly.

“Terrified,” Chanyeol replied, honest as always.

Aela planted her feet and said, “I am the alpha and I will not hesitate to trade my life for yours.”

“Aela…” Chanyeol started.

The alpha female silenced him with a shake of her head and kept her eyes on the distance. From the spots slightly behind their leader, Miyune and Chanyeol exchanged glances of love and fear.

Only a moment later, a cluster of wolves cleared the bluff. The dark male at the front was massive and formidable, trekking through the snow with little effort. Two wolves flanked him – a daunting male more muscly than any wolf Aela had ever seen and a female the color of faded copper.

On approach, the alpha male warped in midair until he came to stand on two legs, as did his company. They walked the rest of the way until they stood before Aela and her guards on the other side of the icy stream.

Yunho, for being such a ruthless and driven entity, flashed a friendly smile and offered Aela a bow of his head in greeting. “You must be the feisty Aela. I have heard much about you,” he said sweetly.

Aela replied, “As I have of you. What brings you here today?”

“Ah, straight to the point,” Yunho sang, clapping his hands before rubbing them together. “Well, given that your mate is gone, you are the alpha of this pack.”

Aela nodded. “I do believe that is how this arrangement works,” she retorted.

“Mind your tone,” hissed the female, looking downright murderous.

Yunho crooned, “Sora, please.” Then, he turned his attention back to the woman before him and apologized, “You’ll have to forgive my beta. She has quite the temper.”

Aela lifted an eyebrow and replied, “Beta, you say? Then she should mind her tone when speaking to an alpha. Especially the alpha of a pack that includes the sons of Valera.”

At the mere mention of her name, Yunho and his two guards shifted their weight and instinctively bowed their heads. Aela blinked in surprise. The name of Yixing’s mother carried such influence and power, she regretted using it so informally. Even Chanyeol had flinched slightly.

Yunho rubbed his jaw, losing some of his patience, and said, “I didn’t come here for this.”

“Then, cut to the chase, because I can’t comprehend any reason why you would come when my mate is gone except that you know it is when we are most vulnerable,” Aela pressed.

Yunho tilted his head and murmured, “Aela, I need you to be my ally in this…”

That wasn’t what Aela had been expecting. “Give me a reason,” she interjected.

Yunho stepped forward and on sheer instinct, Miyune and Chanyeol inched closer. Pleased at their display, Yunho stopped and began, “Something is going to happen. It has to be done. But I’m afraid it will turn your mate against me. I fear it will be the one thing that could drive him to seek my position.”

Aela furrowed her brow and questioned, “You’re afraid Yixing wants to be high alpha?”

“I know being high alpha is the last thing in this universe Yixing wants, but there is something that could force his hand and it’s coming.”

“What’s coming?” asked Chanyeol worriedly.

Yunho met Aela’s eyes and whispered, “Yifan.”

Aela was confused and waited.

Yunho continued, “Yifan will be the end of our species as we know it.”

The alpha female shook her head and snapped, “What are you talking about?”

Simpering, Yunho came closer and said, “He never told you what happened. I can see that now.”

There was a noise behind the three intruders and Chanyeol rocked on his heels, smelling the wind.

Yunho sighed and kept his gaze on Aela, seeing he had her unraveling. “Yifan is the very reason we went to war all those years ago.”

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol screeched, beginning to falter as the smell of wet steel and hot-blooded horses wafted into his nose.

Yunho answered, “Ask that vampire he loves so much.”

“Reyna?” Miyune hesitated.

Aela was resistant and she opened her mouth to ask more questions, but Yunho darted forward and grabbed her by the throat.

“You have to come with me, Aela,” he growled, while his beta and warrior charged in to deal with Miyune and Chanyeol, both having turned into wolves at the fraction of a second.

Aela grabbed his wrist, screaming as his grip prevented her from changing given the long nails digging into her neck.

Yunho whispered, “You are the only one that can break Yixing. And Yixing is the only chance we have against Yifan.”

Story Page: Animals

[xevjuliann99-blog]

Free Contents Under The Tag Pet dog's.

Where do tortoises go when the cold weather returns and also ice forms over the area of the water? The actual auto racing will certainly start Sunday, when pet staffs leave coming from the tiny area of Willow north of Anchorage over icebound trails that wind by means of hill passes and also all over frosted wilderness to the aged Godsend town of Nome. Immediately you are actually possibly reviewing this information since you're desperate to eventually discover how to not simply educate your canine swiftly as well as properly, but you also don't would like to must spend a significant piece of cash on professional pet dog coaches or go through however an additional pet dog instruction publication that doesn't obtain you results. On February 3 and 4, they are going to have the opportunity to contend at a rally at Pembrey, near Llanelli, set up by Michael Clarke and also Sue Lowe.: FROM WEBPAGE 21: 'Mushers' pray for snowfall in the forest so they can easily delight in the complete Arctic experience: The 2007 Arden Farmstead Aviemore Dogsled Dog Rally, which is actually set up by Siberian Husky Club of Great Britain, is actually run around Loch Morlich, deep inside the Cairngorm woodlands. This isn't really the only tale from a dropped, blind pet dog to end gladly in Fairbanks over the last few years: A blind eight-year-old canine called Abby walked more than 10 miles in 2012 from her house in the 2 Waterway place prior to she was saved. Therefore to conclude, hot dog bedrooms are actually not merely a high-end as they are going to offer comfort, relief as well as properly being actually for your canine or dogs and also if your canine sleeps in a frigid room or even area during the night, they are actually a really good assets. , if you're like me you like having your pet dog to the seashore or even to parks that possess a pond or pool your pet could skip in.. In the dead of Winter season nonetheless, fish ponds and also lakes could ice up, and the sea is downright cold. Also in one instance our company had a saving foster canine intimidated from linked internet page the bowl, our company believe this was actually the audio the metallic dish created, however she will consume coming from the Kong while our company slowly introduced the bowl as an advantage in her life. I always prefer consultation and a third one:-RRB- My veterinarian is offering my dog anti-biotics for cystitis right now, considering that he doubts for it. The end result ater 2 injections is actually that the pee hasn't already obtained that unpleasent odor this possessed urine examination revealed reduced body weight yet the vet set perhaps due to the a lot of consuming. There are actually numerous things about a dogs individual that lend themselves to being good with kids, one that is actually docious, loving, client, and also going to be moved. Discovering a pet that possesses these characteristics is the secret.