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sgt-scottymoreau · 5 months ago

Text

Lay low and learn

Summary: Trying to pick up the pieces left behind after what happened 3 months ago, Scotty and Task Forces 141 found themselves in a dire situation that requires them to stay low and hidden for a while. But where to go in a country where you don't know who to trust anymore? Well Scotty might have a solution, but... can she reveals her secret to them? Can she trust them?

Warning: None.

Words: 5.9k // AO3 // Masterlist

A/N: Back to the main timeline with a fic that I have been work on ever since I created Scotty. An idea that I had back then, but I struggled so bad to feel in the gap between some scene, then wrote more fic that I could connect to it and eventually spend so long on the ending. Technically this is like a 2.0 version of it, I rewrote the whole thing after like a year(?) and honestly I'm just glad it's done! Italized text mean that they are speaking French here. For the sake of being used a lot and not wanting to have a character translate everything or such, I just did so.

It started like any other operation. The intel was good, their luck was running high and honestly nothing that made it feel like it would turn sour in a matter of hours. A cover mission to help the BSF after what happened 3 months prior with their ex commander. He apparently had more connection then they thought and even if he had by now been court martial, his allies were still roaming around. So, when the intel came in, they trusted it. They followed it till they realized that a very important detail was missing and now they were on the verge of a diplomatic incident with the French authority. For now the 141 had to cut themselves from everything, lay low till they could figure out a way to fix all of this. This is how they found themselves in the middle of nowhere in the countryside, in the darkest time of the night.

"That ain't the worst that could happen to us." Soap tried to light up the mood.

"Sure, it's not like Laswell isn't coming for our asses after that." Gaz replied with a hint of sarcasm. "But being alive has its advantages."

"Very funny you two." Price groaned. "Well for now we should probably camp for the night. There’s nowhere to go until we figure out some plan." They all agreed. Despite the risk, they still lit a small fire so they could see what they were doing. After a quick meal from their rations, they made bed with whatever could be comfortable; their bag and some leaves. Wouldn't be the first time the night would be spent like this. Of course no sleeping under stars would be complete without taking shifts. The night started with Ghost on first watch, Gaz second, Price third.

Price looked at the time on his watch. Three in the morning. It was time to wake Scotty up. He stretched his sore muscles and got up. He softly shook her shoulder. "Rise and shine, lass." He whispered. Scotty mumbled something but eventually woke up. "Everything is calm so far, hopefully it stays that way. At 6 you wake up Soap, understand?"

"Yes sir." She said, rubbing her eyes. Scotty took the spot next to the fire where everyone had been keeping an eye on the surroundings. It was eerily silent. She didn't mind it, but it also made her feel uneasy. Even the bugs weren't making a noise. Which was a little strange. She remembered all those summer nights where some cicadas would be annoying almost till early morning. Maybe the forest was different. At least the captain was right when he said all was calm.

She threw some small branches in the fire to keep some warmth, for a night in June, it was chilling. Her mind drifted for a moment, eyes lost in the dancing flames thinking about everything that happened. There was no real point in trying to understand why, but maybe it could give a foundation to their next step. She wondered if they could even attempt to contact the French authority and make them understand the reason. They were usually reasonable from what she remembered from her days in the BSF. However this time it was different. The team was not supposed to operate in the country without their knowledge and… it is precisely what they did. It would be hard to explain themselves. A rustle startled her. Her eyes scanned the surrounding, hand already on her gun. It was only Soap moving in his sleep. She let out a sigh of relief. However her body tensed up again when this time, it was a shadow she saw in the distance. It moved fast. The sergeant jumped on her feet, grabbing her pistol. As if her worriedness vibrated through the ground, the rest of the task force emerged from their sleep. She advanced toward the last position of the hostile. "Come out!" She ordered. "I know you are there and I won't hesitate to shoot!"

A man came out, hand raised, and stood there. "I mean no harm." He explained in French. A civilian? No, not by his clothes. He looked different. "I'm with the AGIGN!" What in the world would they do here at night? Her gut feelings made her reach for her upper arm and rip the flag off her uniform before shoving it in her pocket.

"What is going on here?" Price asked her once he was by her side.

"GIGN, captain. Technically a sub branch of it." She replied, her eyes and gun never let go of the man.

"Hey Thierry what is going on?" Another French voice came out. Five other men joined the one named Thierry, also surprised to see the 141.

"Oh, on peut vous aider?" The probable captain of the group asked.

"We don't speak French." Scotty said. Price looked at her from the corner of his eyes, his expression remaining calm despite her statement. He could see the frown and her concern. He understood that he should just play along.

"My captain asked if we could help you." Thierry translated. He lowered his arms.

"You are special forces? We could use some help to get in contact with our base. We need extraction." Price explained before the Frenchman translated.

Scotty put back her pistol where it belonged, keeping an ear to what was being said. Thierry and his captain said that it wouldn't be a problem. They had their headquarters not far away, they were welcome there. The 141 grabbed their belongings and followed the men to their cars. Without much more, they climbed in, Soap and Ghost in one, Gaz, Scotty and Price in another. For this one time, Price wanted to keep her nearby. Especially that she was acting odd.

"I thought you spoke French?" Gaz whispered to her once the engine was on and the vehicle drove off.

"Let's just say it's better that way." She replied. Price gestured to Gaz that if Scotty thought so, it was better to follow.

They drove them for an hour before stopping again. This looked like an old village, almost abandoned. The kind of village only locals would know of. "We have arrived at the HQ." Thierry said, getting out. The 141 did the same.

"What base?" Soap inquired, not seeing anything as usual. Even if it was a makeshift one, he couldn't figure out anything that resembled it.

"C'est un peu plus au nord, dans la montagne." The driver of their car said, not even caring about them understanding. Him pointing up the mountain gave them the idea that the base was maybe there. Some more walking to do.

Soap, who was also wondering the same as Gaz approached Scotty as they walked back into the forest. "Why don't you talk with them?"

"Because something is not right." She whispered. "I could be wrong, but I know the GIGN and I know that none of their branches are in this area." This small information was enough for them to be on high alert. They followed in silence. One thing Price couldn’t shake off since they were found by the AGIGN was how no one questioned what four British SAS officers and one unknown military personnel were doing in France, lost in the forest. He trusted and believed Scotty when she said something wasn't right. Because anyone with the slightest common sense would have been concerned.

While the Frenchmen chatted like they had nothing to worry about. Scotty tried her best to not reveal her secret, but Soap and Gaz wanting to know what was going on made it hard. She shortened the whole conversation to they were making fun of them because they are Brits, making comments on Ghost being scary and other small talk.

"How long we still have to go?" Price asked. He was getting irritated that they had been walking for a long time without even a sign of being close to any building.

"I'll ask." Thierry said. He looked nervous himself. "Captain, we should hurry, they are getting impatient."

"Thierry, tell them we are almost there and everything is alright. Once we are in the clearing, a bullet for each one of them. They won’t even know what’s happening."

Scotty, who was watching her footing, snapped her head back up and she stopped in her tracks hearing this. Every part of her body tensed up. Her arm flung in front of her captain to stop him, surprising everyone. "Fils de pute!" She yelled. Son of a bitch. All the Frenchmen moved a step back finally realizing what was going on. She took her gun and pointed at the French captain. "Captain, they plan to kill us! There never was a base!"

"Son of bitches!" Soap cursed, raising his own weapon. It was only a matter of seconds now. The first to pull the trigger would save their team. The 141 reacted fast taking advantage of the Frenchs being shocked that someone had been listening all along. Their bodies dropped dead quickly. A better look at their uniforms confirmed Scotty's suspicions. They had a logo resembling AGIGN, but it was botched. Good enough to trick anyone from afar. After more look around, they connected these men to the terrorist they had tried to take down. If these men could find them in the middle of nowhere, the 141 definitely had to lay low for sure. Disappear. They walked back to the village, finding the cars still there. At least they could now travel easier.

"Let's get out of here." Price ordered. "Gaz, you drive."

"Captain, with all your respect, I should be the one driving." Scotty interjected. "I probably know the region more than him." He agreed and took the passenger seat while the other three men squeezed in the back.

*****

She had been driving for an hour now. The dark sky was slowly lighting up on the horizon, a sign that the sun was making its breakthrough. Her eyes looked in the rear mirror, to see the three men still sleeping, even Price was softly snoring. The road signs began to look slightly blurry, reading the town and exit’s names was difficult. Tiredness was on the edge of her brain and she knew she had to stop soon. Scotty had two options. Stop and let Soap drive or keep driving till they are safe. There was a reason she decided to take the wheel. Well at first it was mostly a wild guess and hoping she was right. Once they hit the big road, Scotty did figure out they were in an area she knew well indeed. They weren’t too far now, if her brain could let her stay awake just a little longer. She finally took an exit, went through the center of town which was completely deserted at this time of the day, maybe the local bakers were already working, and took an old dirt road.

His head hit the window after a small bump that made him emerge from his slumber. Price fully woke up when the engine came to a complete stop. Before he could comprehend what was going on, he saw Scotty walk out of the car to the house in the distance. He watched as she knocked at the door, waiting restlessly and when the door opened it looked like she was talking with the owner. Glancing at the radio’s clock, it was already five in the morning. A shifting from the back caught Price by surprise. Gaz moved up between the front seats. “What's going on?”

“We will see.” He pointed at Scotty who was jogging back to the car.

“I asked these kind folks if we could stay for the rest of the ‘night’ and they said yes.” She explained.

“How did you convince them?” The captain wondered.

“Hmm… You know a simple little lie!” There was a hint of nervousness in her tone that he dismissed. If this place was safe enough, they might as well take the chance for now. The captain ordered everyone out, grabbed their bags and walked to the door.

A woman and her husband welcomed them in. They looked like they just had been awakened from their sleep and weren't exactly sure what was going on. "Bonsoir, we have some bedrooms for you, messieurs. Et madame." The woman said shyly.

"Thank you ma'am. We won't be staying too long." Price reassured. The husband brought everyone upstairs and showed them the room. With a heavy accent he explained that the kids weren't home at the moment and they could use their room. Apologized for the mess the little ones might have left behind. Once everyone was tucked back in, Scotty made her way back to the kitchen on her tiptoes. Awakened by a second wind, she didn’t feel like sleeping at the moment. The woman was there making tea, and her husband grabbed three mugs. Scotty leaned on the counter as the woman put down the kettle. Her eyes glared at the sergeant.

"I haven't seen you in months, not even a phone call and you just show up at my door in the middle of the night!" The woman berated her.

"I'm sorry, Gabrielle!" Scotty apologized. "We were in the area and we need somewhere to lay low for a while and then we will be out."

"Cam, I have no problem with having you here, but I don't have enough to feed all of them. Have you seen their size! Even Nathan looks small next to them!" The husband raised an eyebrow unsure whether to take this as an insult or not. Camille assured her that it wouldn’t be a problem, she could also help with any extra groceries. Gabrielle sipped on her drink with a snort. “So much for wanting to keep your family out of your job. Who are these guys anyway?”

Camille realized she had a lot to catch up with her sister. She was sure she had mentioned something about her new career path, but then again so much had happened she might have only mentioned being transferred to another country and didn’t mention the task force. A quick recap of all that happened since the beginning of this year was enough to bring Gabrielle up to speed. Sometimes, she wondered how sister could handle such a life. After their cup was done, Camille finally felt tiredness coming back and decided to give in.

Later in the same morning, Scotty woke up feeling like last night was a terrible nightmare and wished that it was the case. But reality hit back when she woke up on the floor of a room decorated with stickers, posters of a football team and toys all over the carpet. Her body was stiff from the hard floor, the only spot she found to sleep on when she sneaked in the room. She pushed herself up holding down a groan of pain. Soap was still snoring in the very small bed. Ghost was sleeping on a mattress that was on the floor facing away from her. She caught herself staring at his shoulders that were slowly rising up and down. She approached to check if… Yes he still had the mask on. She smiled, that was crazy to her. Silently, she made her way out, at the same time Gaz came out of the other room. "Mornin'." He greeted her.

"Morning, slept well?"

"Oh, not so bad. Better than in the woods. Are Soa-" He was interrupted by her grabbing something from behind him. Gaz was quite surprised by this strange reaction, even more by the forced smile she put up. Was she hiding something? He was curious, however with the lack of really want to know what was going on, he simply let it go. "Are they still snoring?"

"Oh yes, sleeping like babies." The smell of eggs and fresh pastries reached their nose. Their stomachs growled. With a laugh they headed to the kitchen for some grub. Price was already there trying to help to set up the table. If he had to be a guest here, he would at least be a good one. The two others helped around till the last two finally woke up. After a good late breakfast, it was time to take it easy for a lack of knowing what to do. Eventually they discussed how long they should remain low. The consensus was at least a good week or two. Give time to whomever to clear them out of trouble. Hopefully Laswell or the BSF could help. The captain admitted that squatting here was an option, but also felt abusing the kindness of these people.

But Scotty told him it was fine, she talked with the owners and they were happy to have them around. He raised an eyebrow. She already did so? Without him knowing a single word of it until now? It sounded a little odd that some random French civilians would be so inclined to accept English military personnel in their house, but if they didn’t mind then so be it. Ghost didn’t touch much of his breakfast till Gabrielle and Nathan left the table to clean the dishes. Something Gabrielle commented in a whisper to Camille. The sergeant excused her lieutenant saying he usually never shows his face to anyone. If it could make Grabielle feel better she herself hadn’t seen his face yet either.

Later in the day, the couple said they would head to town for some extra groceries. Left alone in the house, it feels like a relief for Scotty. No more reason to play translator. Gabrielle and Nathan’s house was far from the town, maybe forty five minutes drive, surrounded by large terrain and trees. Not a destination anyone would go to by accident… You had to know exactly where they lived. A question Soap was too eager to ask, which she deflected by saying that she was simply looking for some place to stop for the night quickly and it was not unusual to have a house like this when she saw the off road path. The perfect spot to disappear.

With not much to do, the boys helped around; chopping woods, cleaning the terrain, sparring with each other. Taking advantage that the owners were away to clean their guns and do an inventory check on their remaining gears. Scotty and Soap finished their last lap around the premises a little before the sun had completely set. Ghost was watching them arms crossed. “Takin’ vacation, sergeants?” He smiled behind his mask.

“If running half a marathon is considered vacation, sure.” Soap joked.

“You wish we ran one third of one.” Scotty rolled her eyes. Ghost leaned on the fence and looked at them. For a split second she swore her eyes met his and her gaze darted away quickly. Recently, Scotty didn’t know how to interact with him outside of mission. She tried hard to convince herself that it had nothing to do with the crush she was developing on him. It wasn’t high school anymore, who had crushes in their late 20s! But it was very obvious this was the reason. Scotty swore it all happened since that ops a few weeks ago, but it only became worse in the recent days. She knew the implication and problem that dating would cause, if he even returned the feeling and so she did all she could to keep it secret. Hoping it would one day fade away and it was indeed a small crush, nothing more. At least when the others were around, she was capable of keeping it together and not making a fool of herself.

On the fourth day, Scotty was on the porch watching the surroundings with Gabrielle next to her, enjoying a lemonade. It was rather warm today but that didn’t stop Ghost from still wearing his mask while chopping wood. “At this rate, Nathan won’t have to do anything until winter next year.” Gabrielle snorted.

“I’m sure he will appreciate the time off. More time with the kids, unless he enjoys all the hard work.” She teased. Taking a sip of her drink, Camille gaze lingering on Ghost from afar. Only with a t-shirt on, his muscles tensing and being defined at each movement, his tattoo out in the open, the fabric tight on his chest as sweat made it stick to his skin. It was a sight for sore eyes. She couldn’t take her eyes off him even if the more she watched the hotter the weather was. Or it was her. A little detail Gabrielle noticed and was too happy to point out.

“Someone is in love.” She teased, nudging her. Camille turned fast to her with a glare and red cheeks.

“I’m not!”

“Oh please, you have this look you always had when you were looking at your crushes. You can’t fool me. What are you finally settling down after all these years? It’s about time.”

Camille took another sip of her drink to cool off a little.“I’m not like I used to be in the army. I calmed down a while ago, you should know. But even then Gab. It’s not like I could do anything about it for a various number of reasons. There’s rules! Anyway, it might pass.”

Gabrielle nodded, not believing her entirely on the idea that it would pass.. “But seriously from all these men, you go for the one with that creepy mask, who barely talks and feels he could kill you in your sleep. You are weirdo.” Camille laughed at her insult and nudged her. She missed their casual teasing.

After a week, everyone was rather itching to go back into action. Vacations were always welcome, but most of the days were the same because no one could go out to town for a change of scenery. It was getting boring. Till the woman of the house took Scotty aside. Nathan had left earlier this morning without saying why. While the men were talking about something, Gabrielle spoke up about a little detail that was worrying her. “Camille, listen, we might have a problem.”

“If it’s money, I can help. Just tell me and I can pay for it.” Camille did agree that all five of them did eat their fair share of food with not so small portions. She did feel bad for her sister, however also teased her that this was only a trial to show her how it will be when the kids will be teens.

“No not that, although I wouldn’t refuse that. But that’s not it! If you wanted to keep us a secret, it might be complicated. Nathan’s parents called. The twins were at their place for two weeks and there was a problem in their house. The boys have to come back home.” The information hit Camille like a rock to the face. Gabrielle and her husband understood the importance of playing along but her nephews? Not a chance they keep it down. She let out a swear loud enough that even without understanding the language, the 141 turned their heads. She gestured that it was nothing. Her sister confessed that Nathan should be back in an hour or less by now. Scotty’s heart sank down her feet. She had barely time to make a choice. Either tell her teammates about her family and trust them or say nothing and hope to catch the kids before they come in. However Gabrielle wasn’t too keen on allowing her children to lie when she always told them it was bad. But was it so bad if it meant to protect them? Gabrielle apologized for putting her in such a situation on short notice, but they themselves learned about it only last night, hence why Nathan left so early in the morning.

Scotty took a deep breath and joined in the conversation of the boys. However it was easy to see her uneasiness. Price’s mind raced to try to figure out what could cause this. Would they need to leave this place? Wouldn’t be surprising. Did things turn sour and they will have to remain hidden longer? No, he would be the first one to know. “Everything is alright Scotty?”

“Well, I don’t know how to explain this.” She started. “You know we all have our secrets right… Things we don’t want others to know, like Ghost and his face.” It made them laugh, except for Ghost who crossed his arms.

“Just spit it out, sergeant.” He said, rolling his eyes. Scotty opened her mouth to explain. The door flung open with a man shouting in the back and two small humans bursted in.

“Auntie Camcam!” They both shouted jumping on her, completely ignoring the four men sitting on the couches. All of them looked at her surprised and she timidly smiled. The kids started to ask her plenty of questions till one of them noticed the 141 and they went silent quickly. The twins watched each man carefully. They looked like giants! One of the boys grabbed at Camille's jeans half hiding behind her, while his brother looked much more enthusiastic.

"La tête de mort il est trop cool!" He said pointing at the masked man. Ghost tilted his head to look at the boy. It was his usual look, nothing out of the ordinary. But the twin hiding being Scotty started to sob. She quickly kneeled to his level to reassure him.

"Je veux pas que la mort t'emmène!" He started to cry. She hushed him, promising that this was not Death but just a man with a mask.

"Tout va bien Mathéo. Il ne te fera rien." Camille said, kissing him on the forehead. Mathéo stuck his tongue out at him, still upset and ran to his mom. The 141 looked at her eager to know what just happened. Even if they had a little idea.

"Nicolas found Ghost cool while Mathéo thought you were Death coming to take me. I had to reassure him that that was not the case." Soap didn't hold his chuckles as she translated. Neither did Gaz and even Price had an amused smile on his face.

"Maybe Lt should take off his mask or the lad won't come out ever again." Soap teased. Ghost shook his head and firmly reiterated that the mask stayed on. Gabrielle hushed the boys to their room, leaving the task force alone. Scotty felt very uneasy at the moment. The silence was heavy.

‘’I took a risk by bring you here, but this was the only safe place I could think of back then.’’ She let out after a while. “I really wanted to keep it a secret.”

‘’Everyone wants to keep their family safe, especially with our job.’’ Price reassured her. ‘’That would explain why they have been so kind to keep us for so long.’’

Scotty chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. It indeed explained a lot. Even if she knew that they had no issue with that, Scotty was torn between everything. She never planned on revealing the location of her family. It was a calculated risk that she thought of with a very tired mind when it all happened and yes when her sister admitted that the twins weren’t home, it did sound like it would all work out for the best. The sergeant just wanted everyone to be safe on all sides. She barely knew the 141, only for a few months and she knew she could trust them in a way, but Scotty still had this feeling that she did something wrong. Even her old colleagues only knew she had family somewhere and that was it. They never saw a picture, even less met them in person. But what was done was done, she can’t change anything she might as well live with it and hope for the best.

Later that night, they were all around the table for dinner. Scotty didn’t have a second for herself. Flanked, surrounded, ambushed with the twins who kept asking questions about her work and babbling about what they learned at school recently and what they were doing at their grandparents. Gabrielle had to intervene so they would let her eat in peace. The sergeant said that nothing could surpass the children's interrogation which made everyone laugh.

Scotty went to grab a plate that was slightly further from her. Ghost, noticing that she was obviously struggling to get it, kindly helped by handing it. For a second, their fingers touched each other. Scotty thanked him, her cheeks already coloring with a soft pink. A reaction that didn’t go unnoticed by her sister, nor nephews. Mathéo tugged on her sleeve so she could lean and he whispered in her ear. Whatever the little one asked, it was enough to make her face turn red and straighten up quickly.

“What did he say?” Soap asked amused.

“N-nothing! Nothing important. No Matt I-I don’t.”

“But you are all red just like when mom gets a compliment from dad!” That remark made his parents chuckle as well. Camille suddenly really wished this dinner could be over already and was oh so glad none of her teammates knew French. At least the rest went without an itch. After dessert, Nicolas tried his best to interrogate the rest of the task force. Mathéo on his side simply stayed in his aunt’s arm in silence, listening. Soap and Gaz answered to the best they could, having some fun along the way. Making their stories more unbelievable sometimes as well as much more kid friendly. Price shook his head with a smile. To Scotty this moment reminded her when her dad would be telling her stories of his deployments. These were the days, the innocence of a child. Eventually, the twins crashed from their busy day. Their energy completely drained and they passed out quickly. The parents picked up their children and brought them upstairs.

After an eventful day, Scotty needed a break. She headed outside, walked a few meters away from the house and lay down on the grassy ground. It wasn’t comfortable but the view made it all worth it. Being far from any town, Gabrielle’s house offered a clear view of the stars. Left alone with her thoughts a lot of turmoil resurfaced. On one hand she felt like a hypocrite to be demanding to protect her family when she was the one who took the decision, on the other she knew it would all be fine. Did she regret bringing the task force here? A little perhaps. But at the time, it was the only safe place she knew of and they needed it. Would she do it again if a situation demanded it? Most likely. The safety of her teammate was as important as her family. Deep down, Scotty was aware that this need to keep her family secret came from make up scenarios, horror stories she heard again and again in the past years. There was no need to be so mysterious about her loved ones. Most of her work was done in the shadows rarely engaging with any enemies who would make retribution

But.

What if? The lingering question that made her so worried. She let out a deep sigh as the turmoil cleared out of her mind leaving her alone with the stars. The sound of the crunching peebles and gentle rustle of the grass caught her attention, but she remained in her position. Whoever it was, it was friendly. The smell of cigar gave away who stopped next to her. Scotty started to push herself to sit, but Price gestured to stay still. With a groan, he saw on the grass, arms resting on his knees. “It’s a nice view.” He simply said.

“The first time my sister invited me to her house after they bought it, I spent all night outside.” She smiled. They remained silent for a little while.

“I understand it might have been a hard call to make, but I’m glad you did so. Scotty, you know we won’t betray your family.” Price said casually blowing off the smoke. “No matter what.”

She pushed herself in a sitting position. “Thanks Cap. … Can I speak freely sir?” The captain nodded. “If anything happens to them, you are the first ones I’ll go after, no friendship will change that.”

“A little dark side of yours?” He had a playful grin on his face. She returned the playfulness, but Price knew she meant what she said. “I promise it will never come up to this, lass. No worries.”

As they watched the sky they saw it. A shooting star flew in the dark blue. Jokingly Scotty told the captain they should make a wish. Price scoffed. They stargazed a little longer, till maybe five minutes later, his phone buzzed. The brightness of the device illuminated his face, he had to squint a little the time his eyes adjusted to the light. A heavy frown lowered on his eyebrows. An unknown number had sent him something. You and your team are cleared and can return home. Laswell sends her regards. Tell Kabouter hello, she will understand.

Price read the message out loud to the sergeant who couldn't help herself but chuckle at his pronunciation of kabouter. “Who is that?”

“Someone we can trust, captain. An old friend of mine at the BSF.” Scotty stood up and dusted herself off. “I suppose it’s time to go home.”

“I know some lads who will be happy to.” Price stood up a few of his joints cracking. Years of hard work.

****

When the news was brought to the others about their probable departure, the rest of the task force was rather glad that their unprompted vacation came to an end after only a week! Laswell eventually contacted the captain with more information and where safe areas they could reach to return to England. They would need to find a way to reach any of them which was a little logistic problem but they can figure something out. Gabrielle, although sad to say goodbye to her sister, was also happy to see them leave. There were a lot of people in the house for far too long. The only two who were devastated by the news were the twins. They barely had the chance to see their aunt long enough and they just met these four awesome men! It took a little time to make them understand why they had to leave.

They finally embarked on a plane in a military base nearby who could provide them transportation back home. In a little more than an hour, everything will be done. The five of them allowed themselves to completely let the pressure down, relaxing at the thought of home.

“So who wants to join in for a drink?” Gaz proposed as they barely stepped a foot on the tarmac.

“Didn’t we spend enough time together?” Scotty chuckled and threw her bag over her shoulder.

“Aye! Count me in.” Soap replied. “Come on Scotty, one drink and then you can go home.”

She lifted her finger to emphasis on the only one drink. The captain excused himself, rather liking to get on with some paperworks. They shouldn’t forget about it. Ghost was on the same page as Price. Ghost passed behind her and stopped for a second. “You have a nice family.” was all he said in a monotone tone.

Scotty was a little taken aback by this comment. What did he mean? Why? Nonetheless. “Uh thanks sir.”

Her eyes lingered a little longer on him as he walked away, discreetly biting her lower lip till Soap pulled her out of whatever thoughts that were forming in her mind. Right, drinking with friends now, thinking about her crush, later.

#cod fanfic #call of duty #cod oc #series: wie goed doet goed ontmoet #oc:camille scotty moreau #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #oc:gabrielle moreau #oc:nicolas & mathéo

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angie-starz · 3 days ago

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The chonozawa timline in my Au is a decade long affair:

In Canon Aizawa is 31(30 at the beginner of the series) and Chrono doesn't have a Canonical age so I put him as the same age a Chisaki, 28 (27 during the SH raid); so that gives them a 3 year age gap.

The Neolithic age

First meeting: Hari 18 & Shouta 21

Aizawa is just beginning his hero career, still very scarred by the death of his friend and his relationship with Mic on the rocks(⚠️apologies in advance, this will be the death of erasermic⚠️) they decide to take a break and not see eachother for a while. He gets offered to go on a mission in Esuha yakuza territory, he agrees, he goes, he settles in a hotel, they get started on the case. (I will not talk too much on the case no spoilers for the fic). Essentially, Aizawa is approached by Kurono who offers to help him with the case since he doesn't know jackshit about the yakuza, Aizawa asks why he'd help and Kurono tells him he's just a local keeping a look out for his people since no outsiders will. They obviously dislike eachother at first, both of them tolerating the other to achieve their goals with Aizawa planning to arrest him after all this is over. Aizawa eventually pieces together Kurono is yakuza after a series of misadventures and investigation, they started as reluctant allies and ended as unlikely friends going their separate ways.

Interlude I...

Aizawa goes back to Tokyo, to mic after the mission and they try again but Aizawa keeps thinking about the time he spent in Esuha and just can't shake off the feeling of wanting to go back. Months pass and eventually mic breaks it off with him himself because he realises things really won't work. Meanwhile back in Esuha, Kurono Is getting reprimanded by the old boss for his reckless actions through the investigation but he insists he only did it to protect the SH. He talks to kai about it to which he ensures hari he did the right thing by preventing the police from coming snooping in their territory(Yes. Tragic one-sided chronohaul)

Meeting again: Hari 19 & Shouta 22

It's been a year, and Aizawa is still pondering why he doesn't feel a thing for the breakup but longs to go back to esuha. He's watching the news one day and finds that investigations are being held for the figure who was held responsible for threatening the authorities in The first meeting this gives him the push/excuse to finally go back to esuha to check on Kurono. When gets there he finds kurono, he's staying in an abandoned building across the city and he's freaking out because he's practically endangered the SH and now he's realising that the boss was right. Aizawa snaps him out of it and tells him that he's here to help, kurono doesn't believe him and ask why he would even try to and Aizawa replies that he's just an outsider looking out for the locals. The rest of it is spent with them on kind of on the run, aizawa offers his car amd pays a motel for Kurono until his name is cleared even if he did actually have ALOT to do with the accusations. They spend alot of time bonding and opening up, surprisingly by the times all the ruckus has died down another year has passed, Hari is 20 and Shouta is 23

The middle ages

Frequent interactions: Hari is 21-24 and Shouta is 24-27 during this period

After everything that happened, they're seeing eachother alot more often, exchanged numbers And Aizawa has an apartment in Esuha that Kurono break in to stays at whenever he's not busy with SH work. Through the years they're essentially dancing around eachother, they could be dating but they never put a label on what they are. Aizawa is willing to make them official but Kurono hold off from it because he feels guilty because he feels he's betraying Chisaki. It's almost like he's cheating but can it really count as infidelity if him and kai are not even really together? He leaves the apartment early every morning before Aizawa can wake up but he always comes back even when Aizawa is all the way in Tokyo. This is also around the time Aizawa takes in Shinsou, so just throw that in there.

The ice age

Ghosting: Hari is 25-27 and Shouta is 28-30

Eri gets dumped on the doorstep of the DH at the age of 3 in December right before she tirns 4 and everything in the compound falls into chaos. Kurono gets sidetracked with everything going on, helping chisaki in the lab to figure out what her quirk is, reassuring him that she isn't a replacement for him in the old man's eye. He's doesn't visit Aizawa as often, practically at all but they are still texting. Until he changes his number and goes radio silence for 2-3 years. Aizawa on his end is confused because he got no explanation and not even a goodbye. He goes around Esuha, to places they'd frequent together but there's no trace of him at all. He doesn't believe Kurono would skip town, he's too loyal to his organisation to do so. Kurono now has fully embraced chronostasis alongside overhaul continuing the experiments for the quirk eraser drug. They go on about their lives but still ruminate about eachother deeply. That is until the raid. When Aizawa finds out that its based on the SH, he tries to reach out to Kurono again but still nothing. The first time they meet again is when he's captured by chronostasis underground.

The extinction or revival age

Where we left off: Hari is 27-28 and Shouta is 30-31

They have a one-sided conversation with Aizawa not being able to move. Kurono is pissed that he's here, he shouldn't be here, they were never meant to see each other again. Kurono grapples with his loyalty to the SH and what he wants but will never admit. He Considers killing Aizawa to put an end to this entire affair but as he raises his dagger and prepares to plunge it into his back, he stops and just can't. With the dagger in hovering above, he sighs and tells Aizawa that he'll let him go but to never expect to see him again as he prepares to take the last of the drug and research and run. But then Suneater bursts through the door, stabs Chronostasis's hand with the swordfish and he has reinforcements with him. The rest of the raid goes on as is. Kurono is taken to a Villains hospital for his hand and Aizawa after a while goes to see him.

From here, anything goes. That's why call it death or revival because it can go either way depending on how I'm feeling. They could work thing out for the better or they could stay just accept that the stage of questioning is permanent.

I'm always anxious to post any long writing/character pair analysis because I just feel that I'm not smart enough to analyse them and or they just make sense in my head that when I try to form words or explain them it doesn't make sense so it really tried to get the idea of them here!

#pragmatic meets enigmatic #their shared sense of dut and responsibility in their respective roles #grows into mutual respect over the years and they keep meeting by some form of invisible string or something #the emotional infidelity and feeling of Betrayal with one sided chronohaul #chronozawa #hari kurono #chronostasis #kurono hari #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #eraserhead #chronostasis x eraserhead #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #wow this has been in tye drafts for a while...

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clarencethemouse · 2 years ago

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Too Early

You are the daughter of a powerful political ally of Ravka. You practically grew up within the castle walls while your father would meet endlessly with the King. Soon enough, your attention was caught by the younger prince. Months bled into years when you would run the halls and pore through books together. You laughed together, you cried together. Nothing could have prepared you for the day the young prince left the palace to fulfill the life of a privateer.

Now five years have passed, and Nikolai is finally ready to return from time on the sea. You’re not ready to forgive him for leaving.

part 1/?

This is more of a prologue if anything.

Vasily is a good man. A good man with no backbone, you had to remind yourself as you walked away from the future king of Ravka.

This was the fourth time this month he had approached you with talks of a deeper form of alliance between your two families. He was persistent, you could give him that. But he was wasting time.

You had given up placing faith in the Lantsov family long ago.

Life at the royal court was... tiring. Everywhere to be all at once. Everyone needed some question answered immediately. What few free hours you had were poured into the library. The texts often offered solace and wisdom in your constant times of need, but it was never enough. The scholars in the books did not know the people of the Royal Ravkan Court. They likely would crumble under the demeaning stares of the King’s advisors.

Ever since your father’s death, the politics between your father’s business and the throne had been handed to you. It was now your responsibility to uphold the political alliance - a job you had not signed up for.

As a little girl, you dreamed of managing a small farm. Some day, you dreamed to wake up to the sounds of animals outside your window, your dutiful husband at your side before he set off on a fishing rig. As he would faithfully return every evening for dinner, you would tend to the pigs and chickens. Perhaps, once children came into the picture you would hire a nanny to keep up their education. You would grow into old age with your husband. You would welcome grandchildren and great-grandchildren into the world you felt fulfilled in, having lived a long and successful life by the shore.

Your childish dreams could not be fulfilled by Vasily Lantsov and his overgrown ego.

You did once imagine a different Lantsov boy in the place of the dutiful fisherman. But that boy made his choice very clear the day he left you crying at the steps of the Grand Palace, begging him not to go.

This boy was meant to be returning to court later in the afternoon. That was what all the hustle and bustle was about. Word had been sent from his ship days ago that his crew had apprehended the Sun Summoner and was returning her home. There was also news of the Darkling.

After nearly a decade, your friend was coming home. And you hated the thought of it.

“Have you seen the King lately?” A mid-aged woman asked, grabbing your attention from the street below. Anita was her name: a fragile widower who had been employed at the Grand Palace as a taster. You were sure she took the job because even if the food was poisoned, it would be a better ending to her story than what more time in her home village of Novokribirsk could offer.

You did a quick scan over your shoulder of the perimeter, as if it would do any good. “Not today, no.”

“Well, he was supposed to meet the Sun Summoner at the gates. I thought I saw him at the doors just a minute ago, but then I swore he was back at his throne, but Fedyor told me-”

“Wait- he’s leaving now? Right now?”

It was much sooner than expected. They promised you two more hours to prepare yourself.

Anita nodded. “Fedyor told me he returned just now. With the Sun Summoner,” she finished.

But it’s not noon! You were promised at least two more hours! They were too early.

You hadn’t been planning to be in the open when the Sun Summoner arrived with her royal escort. You planned to hide in the safety of your bedroom. It didn’t seem right to be around when he finally arrived. But they were too early.

You had heard the rumors flying around the country as of late; the people he flaunted Alina Starkov around like a trophy, acting like the attentive and adoring courtier with ideals for marriage. You didn’t blame him. If you had the chance to marry Alina Starkov and all the power that came with her, you would jump at it in a heartbeat.

There was a time when you would leap at the opportunity to marry him.

A light tap on your shoulder. Anita cleared her throat and made a hasty low bow to the person behind you. You suck in a deep breath, savoring every millisecond before you must turn and acknowledge the man.

You spin on your heel, making sure to lean back as not to meet his face any closer than necessary. The days for that were long gone.

A slight smirk befalls his lips as he peers down at your disgruntled self. Oh, how you wanted to smack that horribly attractive face.

Nikolai Lantsov.

#nikolai lantsov #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai lanstov imagines #please don't let this flop #I promise the later parts will have more effort put into them

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bedlamsbard · 1 year ago

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Hi there!

I just finished reading Queen’s Gambit, for the first time, and first off, I wanna extend my personal compliments. It’s probably some of the best Star Wars anything I’ve ever read, let alone one of the best fics I’ve ever read. Excellent job.

My actual question is this: was the plotline with “our” Anakin/Obi-Wan/Padmé (aka the versions from the Wake the Storm-verse) ever officially continued anywhere? I found the posts outlining what the sequels to Queen’s Gambit would have been, but I can’t seem to find anything for the other versions if the characters. I’m not necessarily asking for fic or demanding anything, I’m just genuinely curious if there’s anything out there about potential plans.

Thank you so much and I hope you have a lovely day/evening/whatever time of day!

Thank you for reading, I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the story!

To the best of my memory, I don't have any posts up about what would have happened in All Along the Watchtower, the third Ouroboros story -- there's some concept writing posted well far back in my cut scenes and concept writing tag that dates from when Gambit was in progress, I believe. At a later point in time I planned to use the Watchtower 'verse, the 'verse that the Wake trio ends up in at the end of Gambit, as the same universe that Ezra ends up in during The Starry Crown, though I left the fandom and stopped working on that story before that was revealed; there's some concept writing that shows a later incarnation of that universe from Ezra's POV.

The three alternate universes in the Ouroboros trilogy -- the OT canon universe (as of 2013) in Wake, the Gambitverse in Gambit, and the Watchtower 'verse in Watchtower -- were designed to be mirrorverses for each of the three trio members, so the outcome of each character's worst case scenario. Canon for Anakin (he was responsible for the death and destruction of everything he loved), Gambitverse for Padme (she was the tyrant responsible for corrupting a Jedi and launching the galaxy into civil war), and Watchtower for Obi-Wan (he lost control, fell to the Dark Side, and was unable to help when the Jedi were slaughtered because of circumstances outside his control). I don't remember exactly the precipitating factors now, but Obi-Wan had ended up on Dooku's side here (I think he was captured by Maul? and tortured and later rescued by Dooku? it's been a long time now), and Dooku was able to manipulate him into turning on Palpatine, killing him early and allowing Dooku to become emperor. There was an Order 66, but it wasn't as successful as the canon one; a large portion of the Jedi Order was able to escape and regroup under the grandmastership of Mace Windu. (Yoda having been killed.) Anakin was one of them. Padme and a number of other Jedi allies remained in the now-Imperial Senate; Padme specifically was spying for the Jedi. She had had Luke and Leia, but gave them both up (Luke to Anakin and the Jedi, Leia to the Organas) so that they wouldn't be vulnerable to Dooku. Dooku started -- I can't remember what I was going to call it, an Order of Sith Knights, maybe, sort of like the One Sith from the comics, which Obi-Wan headed up. He and Padme were having a sexual relationship, which Anakin was aware of; uncertain if he and Anakin were also involved but they might have been. The galaxy had fragmented pretty significantly; Maul was still running around, Dooku didn't have as good a grip on recalcitrant systems as Palpatine had, so there were various independence movements.

The Wake trio had all gotten dropped into different locations in the galaxy about, uh, ten years or so onwards from the divergence point? Padme we see at the end of Gambit; Anakin ended up on Coruscant and goes to contact that universe's Padme, who is understandably a little freaked out but does help him. I can't remember where exactly Obi-Wan was, but ultimately he ends up on Tatooine with that universe's Ahsoka, who is at this point a Jedi Knight representing the Order during an auction facilitated by the Hutts for major weaponry, at which a bunch of other political groups in the galaxy are also present, so we meet various Mandalorian groups (Sabine is a junior Protector), rebels/terrorists (Hera is there representing Free Ryloth), and Maul's apprentice (Kanan/Caleb, who had gotten kidnapped from the Order years earlier and has been believed dead for years). This is also where the Ezra of The Starry Crown ends up (as seen in the concept writing linked up above); when I was writing Crown I was still leaving it up in the air if I would use that to crabwalk sideways into actually using the Wake trio there too.

As early as 2016 or 2017 (Gambit wrapped in 2015, I immediately started working on Backbone that summer with the intention to go back to Ouroboros after I finished, I thought it would be a quick project ha ha ha Backbone didn't wrap until 2018), I had been planning to integrate Rebels plot points into Watchtower; I don't remember all the details now, but it involved a plan to use the Malachor temple/superweapon (which I have postulated elsewhere was actually a massive starship) and a counterpart on Coruscant to do Bad Things. The Malachor end got shut down by Hera, Kanan, Crown!Ezra, and that universe's Ezra (masterless Jedi padawan nicknamed Rat, the Jedi had to change up some of their Process because so many of them had died in Order 66); this is also where the Malachor holocron is destroyed and absorbed by Crown!Ezra, which is seen in Crown. That universe's Anakin went to deal with the Coruscant end, fought and killed that universe's Obi-Wan, and was fatally injured destroying the Coruscant superweapon, dying there.

This obviously doesn't leave a lot of room for the Wake trio to do anything but observe, which isn't that different from what they do in Gambit (and which gets a lot of criticism). But that is, as I remember it, the plot. Because it never got written and finalized, it's changed a lot over the years, but many of the fundamental details of the universe remained the same; like I said, I at one point planned to use it for Crown after I'd decided not to write Watchtower itself, but it was always the same plot, just with a larger cast of characters.

I say this pretty regularly because Wake/Gambit are always picking up new readers, but there aren't any current plans to pick up Ouroboros again -- I have gotten a regular amount of vitriolic comments on both fics for the better part of a decade now and it's completely killed any desire of mine to work on them. Also left some permanent scars and fundamentally changed the way I write, plot, and interact with fandom, which I complain about regularly in my talking about feedback in public tag. (Wake went up in 2013, so we really are coming up on the ten year anniversary. Watchtower got hate mail EVEN BEFORE it ever went up.)

#sailor marinara22 #bedlam replies #ouroboros #all along the watchtower

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vegalocity · 2 years ago

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If Spider Queen where to theoretically wake up fully in the Red Awakening ending, would she have problems wearing her old regalia like Spindrax would? Also what would the wife-ified Sanzang be like and what would his reaction be to his get up if he could wake up?

oh man if Spider Queen went lucid she'd be heading for the fucking hills man

she'd play along JUST long enough to 'be retired for the night' and fucking TEAR her regalia off as she just fucking runs away. She'd be desparate just to fucking get out of there, no plans no allies left that haven't been snapped up by the Prince, no clan to fall back on, she's fucking OUT of there. Her only hope to try and break through to would be MAYBE Goliath since Xiaotian didn't super care to do a lot of work on him where as Syntax Huntsman and Spindrax have all been under HEAVY conditioning, but she's GONE she's BOUNCING.

Spider Queen is relatively low on the danger list if she goes lucid

Sanzang is THE most dangerous person to go lucid. the only person close to the same level of potential threat is Syntax, but that's mostly because he does ALL the personal tech work in the city. Sanzang is someone they 100% no matter what cannot AFFORD to even CHANCE going lucid. I was actually chatting about something similar with @unseelie-robynx and we came to the conclusion that Xiaotian would definitely be smart enough to identify that since Sanzang can UNDO his work that he really needs ALL the stops and ALL the failsafes in his head to KEEP him from going lucid. If Sanzang wakes up this whole thing is gonna go full nuclear bc there's no way he WOULDN'T not only contact EVERYONE in heaven that he possibly could, but ALSO undo as much to everyone around him that he possibly could.

So outwardly it seems like he has the least done with him, there's been a sort of cheeky 'breaking of his monastic vows' thing that happened early in since in the ending where Sanzang gets got the Cult has already been fully bought into by the rest of the 'court' so there's already plans underway for him to 'Join' them and he can't exactly still be a Buddhist monk while also being a god in another pantheon. But that was more of a 'something while he was still getting mentally broken' thing.

After that they let him keep basically the same personality and traits, both because with less behavior modifications it'll be harder for him even on a subconcious level to realize that there was something wrong, and also because Wukong LIKES him like this, and as we know an Oblivon Wife's entire life is in orbit around their Husband (heh) so he wouldn't want many behavioral changes anyway.

So to anyone looking in there wouldn't be THAT much different about him, other than that he just sort of changed creeds in order to 'be with' Wukong.

The only real behavioral change is that they basically turned his feelings for his monkey up to eleven and broke the dial off. essentially a mind control love potion, he's CONSTANTLY dizzy with infatuation in his ending. he can still DO other things of course, but it's REAL easy to just go full heart eyes over Wukong and get kinda carried away with it.

Yeah it'd REALLY fuck him up if he went lucid though, primarily due to the whole 'broke his own vows while under' thing, but the whole 'being dressed up like a doll' thing won't help either. I'm not entirely sure just WHAT would happen though, since he's the one with SO many failsafes in his head to ensure he DOESN'T go lucid, it's a statistical wonder if he does and suddenly EVERYTHINGS up in the air.

#the stepford wives of Oblivion deffo have brunch once a week (mostly so Red can 'check up on everyone')#And Sanzang and Shuyin are the only ones with enough braincells left to actually talk about stuff beyond gushing over their spouses #though they both do quite a lot of that as well lmao #Tyrant prince au #the Cavalry falls #letters to vega #suntang #but like a really fucked up one lmao #lmk Spider queen

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outsideratheart · 3 years ago

Text

The One That Got Away (Alex Morgan x reader)

For years you had loved Alex Morgan and not in the team mate way but in the I want to spend everyday of the rest of my life with you way.

You had felt like this since the moment you met Alex and up until now the feelings were entirely one sided. You never acted on them because you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had with Alex, oh and because she had a boyfriend who for the most part made her happy.

Two night ago everything changed. Alex told you that she had broken up with Servando because she had feelings for you. It felt like you were in in a rom com and it was the part were you finally got the girl.

Waking up you had to pinch yourself a few times, last night was like a dream, one you never wanted to wake up from.

As you lay in bed you look down to fine the spot behind you empty, Alex must have already gone down for breakfast.

The USWNT was in Chicago for a friendly against New Zealand, the game last night ending in a US victory. Today was the last day together before the off season officially began, you had planned on spending as much of it as you could with Alex.

You walked into the makeshift dining hall and headed towards your regular table, where conversation seems to be booming. You take a second to wonder what could be so interesting.

“What so interesting that it has all of you talking this early in the morning?” You ask as you sit down.

“Alex is back with Servando” Kelley says.

You space out. Surely they are wrong, you and Alex had finally admitted your feeling to each other.

“Y/N? Earth to Y/N” Ash says washing her hand in front of you face.

“What did you say about Alex?” You ask.

The table take turns looking at each other figuring out who should tell you. This wasn’t the first time Alex and Servando had broken and and got back together but your reaction told them something was different this time.

“Alex and Servando got back together” Carli says seen as though you and her were close.

You stand up sending your chair flying in the process. As you turn around you come face to face with the one person you did not want to see.

“You’re back with him” you say, the hurt in your voice is clear to everyone.

“Y/N” Alex says. She goes to reach for your hand but you pull away from her.

“Don’t. I don’t want to see you or talk to you ever again. If it is not to do with this team, don’t bother” You spit.

“Let me explain”

“No. You fucked me then went running back to him. All this time I thought you were too good for me, turns out it is I who is too good for you” You shout and storm off to your room.

The whole room is silent, taking in what had just happened.

“You did what?” Carli says going into protective mode.

“Not now, I need to go talk to her” Alex says running after you but you feels someone grab her.

“I don’t think thats a good idea” Allie tells her friend. Although the midfielder and forward was close, the two of you were just as close as you both played for Gotham.

Alex slumps do into a seat, she knew what she did was wrong but she did it out of fear. Scared of what the world would think of her. She was so focused on herself that she never thought about what this would do to you.

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

A few weeks pass and you stay true to your word, you haven’t spoken to Alex. You didn’t text her back, you don’t take her calls and you delete her voicemails.

That only leaves one thing Alex can do and that is to fly to New York and see you in person. First she goes to your apartment but there is no answer, your neighbour telling her you haven’t been home in days. The next stop is Carli’s and Alex can’t help but wonder if this is a suicide mission.

She knocks on the door and Bryan answers.

“I’m surprised it took you this long to show up” He says.

“I thought I would give her space”

“Well you definitely have that now” He mumbles before telling her to come in.

Alex furrows her brows at his words, what did he mean?

“Babe, Alex is here” he shouts to his wife “she is in the kitchen”

“Thanks” Alex says heading in the direction where he pointed.

“You’re too late” Carli says emotionlessly. She was still mad at Alex but you had asked her to let it go and she was trying.

The vet picks ups on Alex’s confusion.

“She isn’t here”

“Where is she?” Alex asks.

“She left for Australia a week ago” Carli says somewhat sympathetically, she thought you would have at least told her to were leaving.

“When will she be back?” Alex says assuming you had just gone for a vacation.

“Probably when the season is over”

“What?”

“She joined the W-League, Perth Glory wanted her”

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

You had been in Australia for 4 months, not returning to America once. Perth had won the league and for the first time in a long while you wasn’t necessarily playing to win, you were playing to have fun. You didn’t have the pressure on you like you did in America.

Jill had called you several times throughout the season and invited you to camps and to play at friendlies but you turned her down.

Now it was time for you to go home, the world cup was looming and you had been called up for the qualifiers, you were happy to find out your first match would be against Australia.

You asked Jill to keep your attendance a secret as you wanted to surprise you team mates and due to your flight been delayed your surprise would be taking place at open training so the media would have a field day.

The team was out on the field warming up before the drills started.

Alex was passing the ball back and forth with Christen and Tobin when they heard fans screaming and all cameras were suddenly pointing the the tunnel.

“I wonder what’s going on?” Christen asks as she stops the ball with her foot.

Alex moves so that she has a clear view and that is when she sees you.

“Careful you’re drooling” Tobin says nudging her friend.

“She looks good, like really good” Alex replies still checking you out.

She couldn’t help herself. Your newly brown skin showing off your toned muscles, she mentally thanks the Australian sun.

The three forwards watch as several players run up to you. Everyone had missed you, you were a key part of this team and you absence effecting everyone.

You hold Carli and Allie a little longer, you had missed your Gotham team mates the most.

“Have you spoken to her at all?” Allie asks and you know who she is talking about even though she didn’t say her name.

“No but I guess there is no time like the present” you say as you see Alex, Tobin and Christen walk towards you.

You hug Tobin and Christen before turning to Alex.

“Hi Al, how have you been?” You ask wrapping your arma around her.

“I’ve been good, how are you? How was Australia?” She asks.

All of your team mates watch your interaction, waiting for the things to get heated considered the last time you two talked.

“It was incredible. The sun, the sea” you pause for a moment smiling at memories in your head “ and the people”

“I saw the photos, it looked beautiful” Christens says.

“It was, you would have loved some of the hikes we went on” you tell her.

Dawn calls you over to warm up before you can say anything else.

“Well I wasn’t expecting that” Kelley says shocked

“I thought she would still be a little mad” Pinoe says

“Does that mean she has forgiven me?” Alex asks hopefully

“I think so” Allie says

“What other reason would she have to be so nice?” Ash asks curiously.

“Maybe she met someone, maybe someone healed the hurt that Alex caused” Christen says “It is easy to forget the pain you feel when you have someone who makes you happy everyday”

Christen suggestion broke Alex. Is it possible that you met someone in Australia, does the mean that you will move their permanently.

“She did seem really happy, I don’t think I have ever seen her like that” Julie says.

The team watched as you did laps around the pitch, smiling and laughing with Dawn.

The last scrimmage gets a little heated as your competitive side comes out and considering you hadn’t played with these girls in such a long it was worse than ever.

“Thank god you are on my team I wouldn’t want to be the one marking you” Sonnet says and you both laugh at Kelley who was laying on the floor trying to catch her breath.

“Shut up” Kelley groans so you go over to offer her a hand up.

“C’mon Kells don’t be a sore loser”

“You’re just happy because you have been been getting laid in sunny Australia”

Kelley’s question grabbed the attention of almost the entire team. they couldn’t turn down the opportunity to get the gossip.

“It was very sunny” You say playfully winking at the defender.

Everyone noticed that you didn’t deny the getting laid part of the statement.

“So the only thing that marked your skin was the sun?” Sonnet says joining Kelley quest for information.

“No” both defenders sigh loudly at your vagueness.

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

You are in your hotel room when you hear a knock on the door. You open it to see Alex.

“Baby, I have to go” you say as you hang up your phone.

“Come on in” you tell your team mate.

“Was that you’re girlfriend?” Alex asks curiously remembering what you said or more importantly what you didn’t say at training.

You roll your eyes at her question before walking away putting as much distance as you can between the two of you.

“After everything that happened between us, you feel you have a right to know my personal business?”

“I knew you hadn’t forgiven me” Alex tells you.

“How can I forgive you when you haven’t apologised?” You snap.

“I’m sorry” Alex says.

You pause for a minute contemplating whether or no to accept her apology.

“I accept your apology Alex. Despite all you have done I still care for you”

Alex walks over to you.

“You still care about me?” It’s clear to say Alex did not expect you to say that.

“I do” and before you can stop her Alex is kissing you.

You push her away immediately shocking Alex. You had never pushed her away before.

“What are you doing!” You shout “I told you I forgive and I care for you, but only as a friend.”

You both stand there in silence for a few seconds.

“Do you know what you did to me?” You ask “Why do it? Why sleep with me and then get back with him?”

Even after all this time you still wanted to know why she did it.

“I know you won’t believe me but I do have feelings for you. I wanted a future with you but I was scared. Everything was easy with servando”

You roll your eyes at her reasoning.

“You destroyed me Alex. I left America thinking I was worthless, that I didn’t deserve to be happy” you blink away a few tears.

“I closed off my heart and rebuilt the walls that you had knocked down”

“Y/N I…”

“No Alex, let me finish” you pause collecting your thoughts “even though you hurt me, I still want to thank you” the forward looks at you with a furrowed brow.

“It is wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have gone to Australia and I wouldn’t have met the love of my life. I thought I loved you but I soon realised that wasn’t the case, I couldn’t love you but I never really had you. But then I met her and she showed me what true love is. She makes everyday brighter and tells me time and time again that I am worthy of love”

You cannot help but smile as you think of your girlfriend. She makes you feel like the only girl in the world, something Alex never did.

“So thank you Alex, you breaking my heart was the best thing that ever happened to me”

“I’m happy for you” She says but you see right though her.

“No you’re not and that is ok. You will meet someone that makes you feel the way she makes me feel”

“So we are back to being friends?” Alex asks.

You nod you head, holding your arms out “Friends can hug you know”

Alex laughs at your gesture and words before accepting your hug.

“I’m glad you’re happy, you deserve nothing but the best” Alex says sincerely but you can hear the hurt in her voice.

“Thank you Alex”

That night you go to bed thinking of Alex but not in the way you used to. You had told your girlfriend about what happened with Alex and she was that one the convinced you to forgive her. You just hoped that you and Alex could go back to who you was before the feelings got in the way, Alex was your best friend and you missed her.

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

A few days later and it was like you had never left. Before you knew it it was game time. You had loved playing on the same side of the Australians but now they were the Matildas and they were your opposition.

Everyone was lining up in the tunnel ready to go out for the match. You had been able to catch up with some of your Perth team mates before going onto the pitch.

The game was physical from the first whistle, neither team could get past which was resulting in desperate tackles.

You watch as Kelley takes out one of the Matildas and they were very slow to get up. You saw red and went after Kelley.

“What do you think you are doing? You could have broken her ankle!!” you shout in her face.

“Y/N calm down” the defender days says.

“I mean it Kelley! You’re a good defender, that was a sloppy tackle”

You make your way over to the player she took down.

“Are you ok?” You ask clearly concerned.

“I will be”” She says.

“Good” you offer her your hand smiling when she takes it.

Kelley tries to grab your arms as your go back to your position but you shake her off.

The rest of the game is action-less. Nobody can score ending the game in a 0-0 draw.

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

After the game you go back to the hotel and to the room that you were sharing with Kelley. Someone that you didn’t really want to see as you were still mad at her for her reckless tackle but you also know you might have overreacted slightly.

“Y/N”

“Forget it Kelley. I reacted when I shouldn’t have so I’m sorry” you apologise for your reaction.

“I accept your apology. Also I invited some of the others over here for a movie night. You can pick if you want”

“Actually I have plans” you say smirking.

Kelley doesn’t have the chance to dig for more details as there are several knocks at the door.

You open it to see some of team mates who barge straight in.

“By all means guys come on in” you say sarcastically.

“We wasn’t interrupting anything was we?” Becky asks.

“Nope. Y/N was just telling me that she has plans tonight so she can’t watch a movie with us” Kelley tells the team.

“Why?” Lindsey asks.

“You can’t miss movie night”

“I can and I will” you tell them.

“And to answer your question” you point at Lindsey “I have a date”

“A date with your Australian girlfriend” Sonnet teases like a ten year old.

“The very same” you finally admit.

You can tell they have questions but a knock at the door gets your attention.

You open it revealing your girlfriend, placing a quick kiss on her lips.

“Hi beautiful” she says making you blush slightly.

“Hi baby” you reply.

You turn to see the team staring the two of you, everyone but Alex who is looking anywhere but in your direction.

“Sam this is the team. Girls this is Sam Kerr” you introduce.

“So this is why you went off on me. I took out your girlfriend” Kelley says, suddenly your reaction making sense to her..

“You’re lucky it didn’t put you on your ass” you say to the defender.

“Are you ok Sam?” Kelley asks.

“Fine, just a little swollen, nothing some ice won’t fix” Sam explains calmly.

Truth is the tackle wasn’t that me but you still wanted to protect your girlfriend even if it did mean going face to face with your team mate.

“Good, I would’t want Y/N to smother me in my sleep” Kelley jokes.

“Well as much as I love watching movies with you all, I love her more. Shall we go?” You say to Sam before leaving your room..

Alex winces at your words. Even after your conversation earlier she still hoped she would have a chance at getting you back. She watches as you leave hand in hand with Sam.

Over the years you have been several things to Alex. A friend, a best friend and a shoulder to cry on but from here on out you would be known as the one that got away.

#alex morgan one shot #alex morgan x reader #alex morgan imagine #uswnt one shot #uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine

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artxyra · 3 years ago

Text

The Return of the Premier Chaotique

Marinette was only eight years old when her primary school life changed for the better.

On that fateful day, in Mlle. Gilbertine’s classroom was the introduction of a new transfer student. He introduced himself as Damian; there was no last name. And if there was one, Gilbertine made sure she didn’t say a word of it.

To Marinette, Nino, Chloe, Nathaniel, and Kim, he was an odd boy. Someone that would fit right into their group after a push, as Damian stressed for no social interactions with anyone.

During the early weeks of his stay, Marinette had caught him several times engaging in lonesome activities, whether they were in the classroom or out in the field messing around. Marinette, being the outgoing child that she was, began to plot.

Created from that plotting period was her life’s mission to befriend the emotionless kid.

It was hard at first.

She and the others tried tricking the young man into hopscotch matches, and when that didn’t work, it was a game of red light, green light. Occasionally, Nino and Kim would challenge Damian to dance battles.

Damian was very much against the childish games claiming that they were beneath him, but humored them into defeat.

That was until Marinette decided on a shooting game with water guns and makeshift go-carts out of bike parts. Damian’s eyes lit up with excitement, and Marinette knew right then and there that she finally fulled her goal.

After being soaked from head to toe and laughing amongst friends, Marinette and the others swore Damian into their friend group, thus changing their lives forever.

Soon newer and crazier games began to take over the classroom of Mlle. Gilbertine.

The moment Nino would bring out his portable CD player and the music began to boom out of the speakers, everyone knew what was about to happen.

One day, while the group was in the school’s pool area pretending to be sea monsters attacking each other with kickboards and pool noodles, they were officially dubbed the “Premier Chaotique” cult. As they were youthful and the material they came up with was more chaotic than anything the future Hawkmoth could ever create.

Everyone knew that Marinette and Damian were the leaders. Together they oozed power, as Marinette was their strategist while Damian was the chief.

Chloe was their lawyer and location scout. The blonde knew what areas had cameras and heavy guarding. Kim was their chaotic developer. He knew what methods were more chaotic than the rest. Kim never failed to disappoint. Nino was their sound design and videographer in some cases. His love for filmmaking and DJing started here and continues to grow. Nathaniel was the tagger as he made sure every graffiti they did was perfect.

Nothing could ruin these kids.

Mlle. Gilbertine, bless her soul, was determined to get the Premier Chaotique cult under control, but they were slick and made plans at random. She remembers the day when empty ice cream cups filled her classroom. Every desk was covered, and nothing could explain the appearance of snow sleds in the class.

It was no rumor that the mini cult managed to create their own little snow resort using ice cream and shave ice. It was a pain to clean up.

Marinette remembers the days when the mini cult would paint the city red with flowers and chaotic goodness. Or turning the entire city into a roller skate derby.

It’s a miracle that the cops never brought their parents into the investigation. Then again, with a child as pure as Marinette in the lead, people would fall over when they saw her smile.

Their significant achievement was when the school’s kitchen managed to catch on fire during a lunch period. During the evacuation, the group somehow managed to slip through the adults and back into the cafeteria.

Kim had brought marshmallows that day.

When the firefighters entered to put out the flames, the six children greeted them with wooden sticks eating s’mores and telling scary stories.

That fire had been their last valuable success because they experienced the worst nightmare a couple of days later, Damian had to go back to his home country.

It was heartbreaking for everyone within the cult but groundbreaking for the city.

Marinette fell into depression along with the others. After a month without Damian, they vowed to never speak of the best year of their life unless they were ever to meet Damian again.

It was no secret that Marinette had a crush on the foreign boy, so the cult disassembles along with any memories of Damian and the cult.

Years passed since that day.

Chloe took it upon herself to bully Marinette when they had entered college, as those who knew them in their younger days forgot that they were ever friends. Marinette took up fashion designing and making her seem like the perfect student. Nathaniel started working on comics based on their adventures. Nino stayed friends with all but Chloe and continued with his calling in music production. Kim began busying himself with sports, specifically swimming.

Soon the name that used to strike fear in the hearts of the Paris citizens began to fade away into a false memory.

Little did anyone know, the spirit of the Premier Chaotique cult lives on and would ignite in a blaze of fire.

At sixteen, Marinette works her butt off to make their end-of-the-school-year trip a reality.

The trip was not for the approval of her classmate, which has gone stale but for her sanity. Three years of being Ladybug have put a toll on her, and she plans to take advantage of the lack of akuma attacks going on.

When the acceptance letter landed in her hands, her parents swear they saw a boulder lifted off their daughter’s shoulders. She was smiling more and appeared less stressed than she had ever been since finding out the school board decided to move teachers with their students as a handful of teachers left Paris, some even left France altogether.

Her allies (remaining friends) were the first to know about the trip to Gotham, New Jersey, and they cheered happily for her. Lately, someone else has taken the credits for her work.

The day before the trip, Marinette rundown the patrol routes, and emergency protocols with Luka and Kagami, ensuring the safety of Paris if and when Hawkmoth decided to go active while the rest of the team was away.

She then goes on to convincing Kaalki to come with her to Gotham only to be used as an emergency. Marinette was ready to leave Paris and head to Gotham.

Upon entering the streets of Gotham, a cold chill runs down everyone’s spines aside from the former mini cult members. Too Mme. Bustier, the chill was all too familiar, bringing up memories of the kids that terrorized the streets before Hawkmoth. She looks around to see nothing out of place before promptly calling out her students so they would make it to the hotel.

Everyone who felt that chill had every right to be wary.

On the first day, everything seemed fine, but when you leave nearly all the members of Premier Chaotique alone for a moment, well, chaos was sure to happen.

Chloe and Marinette had put aside their differences during the Lila era of the classroom reign. Even after it was over, they managed to remain friends, rekindling the essence of primary friendship. The boys joined in on them not long afterward.

Plans were made but not yet enforced. It did not feel right, and they knew why– it was because they lacked their chief, the one and only Damian.

~☾★☽~

All Marinette wanted was a cup of coffee, but instead, she got something--someone much more pleasing.

Frozen in place, she calls out a single name, “Dames?” The dark-haired male turned around; she couldn’t breathe. Her eyes soften at the sight of her first crush. He hadn’t changed by much, though he was now taller than her.

“Mars?” That nickname sent the French-Asian teen running into the arms of the Ice Prince himself. Instead of pushing her away, he wraps his arms around her.

Time froze in that café for several reasons, but the main one was definitely because they just witnessed Damian Wayne hugging someone willing.

Their embrace ends with them staring into each other’s eyes. It felt surreal. They couldn’t find the words to say, but they didn’t have to.

Life continues in the cafe as Damian leads Marinette away from the flashes of lights. It wasn’t long before Damian’s phone began to blow up with notifications. He turns his phone off and stuffs it back into his pocket.

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, Marinette pulls Damian in closer. Lifting herself onto her tip-toes, she whispers, “The others are here too.” into his ear. She steps away to see what she has unleashed, hoping that nearly a decade away from each other hasn’t altered their relationship.

This time it was Damian who smirks, bringing Marinette closer to him. “Mm, shall be bring Gotham to its knees?”

They share a smirk that ends with an explosion, thus, reigniting the Premier Chaotique cult with a burning passion for mayhem.

They decided to meet that night after hours.

Music blared in the streets of Gotham, seemingly close to the classroom’s hotel near Wayne Enterprise.

The members of Premier Chaotique strut down the middle of the streets in inflatable dinosaur suits dancing to the remixes that played from the boombox on one of the dino’s skateboards (Nino’s).

Jamming to Bats @crazyforbats Did anyone else wake up to music and dancing dinos last night?

Bearbe @Bearbe Replying to @crazyforbats THAT WAS REAL!!??? I THOUGHT I WAS HULLACINATING

Krazie Kay @gokaykaer [A one-minute video with various strobe lighting colors flashing around and six dinosaurs doing the Cha-Cha-Slide] I swear I just saw @thebloodwayne for a split second.

Vera Pitts @vera_pitts [A short video of inflatable dinosaurs chaotically dancing to the Harlem Shake.] I thought this trend of over and done *crying emoji*

By the morning, Twitter was blowing up with various videos and gifs of the events that happened the night before. The only people who weren’t affected by the popularity were the people who were a part of it.

At Wayne Manor, Bruce could already feel a migraine coming as his two oldest play the videos repeatedly in the main room.

Damian scoffs at his family members, while Dick complains about why they haven’t thought of that for a family outing. It’s all about class, Dick; it’s all about class.

Alfred, being all-knowing, takes notice of Damian's hidden smirks and recent purchase from his account at a party store. Nothing to worry about in this household. However, Damian asking him about where to find used pocket bikes (mini motorcycles) and wire rope reels was troubling.

The next night began the fears of every Parisian that experienced the reign. Blessed that it wasn't not happening in their city for once.

Per their plan assignments, Chloe and Kim found the buildings necessary for the zip line. Nino was in charge of setting up the equipment with the help of Nathaniel. Damian’s task was to get the bikes and zip line wire. Marinette’s job was to keep the class and others from finding out their plan.

Once everything was ready, the Premier Chaotique entered their playground wearing hooded leotards (or bodysuits) with matching latex masks stretched over their eyes.

Kim went first down the zip line as Damian race down the streets on the bike. Initially, they were going to use the bikes, but the zip line couldn’t hold the weight of the bike and the person on it, so they turned it into a race instead. Of course, they put challenges throughout the route to make it more even.

Their mayhem took a turn for the best when someone had called the cops, causing the for once silent night into a regular night of crime. Instead of stopping, like normal people, the mini cult went on a high-speed race against the GCPD.

Gotham’s Twitter users were having a blast with the events. It was the best and bravest thing to surface since Batman, though some were very vocal with their opposing thoughts.

The GCPD never caught the Premier Chaotique members, and they went on as if nothing happened.

It was during the tour of Wayne Enterprise that the Premier Chaotique members learned Damian’s last name. He was an effing Wayne.

Marinette had asked Damian what his last name was when they were eight, and he replied nonchalantly with something along the lines of not being a Wayne until he was ten. Afterward, they continue hanging out and plotting throughout the tour.

After seeing their younger brother interact with teens his age, Dick specifically begs Bruce to invite the group while the rest stands there in shock. The sight of seeing Damian doing what they thought was impossible needed to go into the history books.

While it was a momentous occasion for Damian’s brothers, it was a reality check for Mme. Bustier. Her screams echo against the halls of WE as buried memories of the chaos awakens.

She stared pointedly at Marinette in denial. There was no way her star student was in the cult that did so much damage all those years ago. When Chloe, Nino, Kim, and quiet Nathaniel joined her, Caline started to feel faint. She immediately excused herself to call her therapist. Her wails for help could reach the lobby.

Bruce unknowingly invited even more chaos into his household that night.

It didn’t take Chloe and Marinette much to convince their teachers to let the five of them stay with Mr. Wayne for the night in hopes of “catching up” with Damian.

After getting the approval from Mr. Wayne and their parents, she agreed, secretly ecstatic that they wouldn’t be in her care for the next several hours.

~☾★☽~

“I’m bored. Let’s play a prank?” Kim randomly shouts, playing catch with himself, when they were all staring out the TV waiting for something good to come on.

“What do you have in mind?” Marinette asks, making her way over to Damian. He pushes her away, knowing that she’ll use him as a throne.

“Hey Dames, do you own go-carts are something of a familiar nature?”

Damian thinks about it for a minute, “Tt, father wouldn’t dare let those things in the house. We can prank my brothers. Scaring them would bring me joy.”

“Well I have a few ideas, we can use.” Chloe states, pulling out the book of mischief from her purse.

They all huddle over the book with smirks on their faces.

-----

A retouch version of Request #9.

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #artxyra one-shots #slight daminette

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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

Text

it’s not christmas ‘til you come home

a/n: hello!! please enjoy this piece from my dad!harry universe! (u dont have to read any of them for it to make sense, but it would be cool if u did! loosely based on it’s not christmas ‘til you come home by norah jones <3 hope you enjoy! thank u to @harryysstyless for beta reading for me!! happy holidays everyone :)

warnings: SMUT, a bit of angst <3 word count: ~5.1k

my ko-fi! thank you :)

December 23rd, 2:00 PM

For as long as you and Harry have been in a relationship, you’ve never not spent a Christmas together.

Before expanding your family, you and he used to hop from party to party every Christmas Eve. Both of you would be absolutely trashed by the time Harry’s driver would drop you off at his house in the early hours of the morning. You’d sleep in until approximately noon, willing your hangovers to go away before finally making it down the stairs and into the kitchen to prepare two steaming cups of coffee. The two of you would then make your way into the living room and exchange gifts (where Harry always went way over the budget you’d set).

Once you had your first child, Allison, your yearly tradition of party hopping and getting so drunk you could hardly put one foot in front of the other was no more. Instead, you and Harry opted for calm nights in, watching Christmas movies and drinking hot cocoa until she eventually grew tired and got carried up to bed. You would wait an hour or so before springing into action, playing Santa and setting out all of the gifts she asked for and then some. Harry never forgot to take a big bite out of the cookie and carrot left out for Santa and his reindeer.

This tradition stayed the same once your second baby, Oliver, was born. Even though he was too young to know what was going on, Harry was still excited to spoil him rotten this year as it was his first Christmas. However, given the current state of the world, you were afraid Harry would not be here for the first time ever.

“Mumma, when’s daddy coming home?” your six-year-old, Ally, asked for what had to be the seventh time that afternoon. “I made him a drawing for his gift ‘nd I can’t wait for him to see it!”

“Let me see what you drew for Daddy, love bug,” you say cheerily, purposefully glossing over her question. Ally proudly holds her drawing up next to her face. She looks up at you with wide eyes, awaiting a compliment from you.

“That’s gorgeous, bug! Daddy’s gonna love it,” you inform her. “Maybe you can stick a lil’ bow on it and set it under the tree for him, hmm?”

“Good idea, Mumma!” Ally runs to the box where you kept all the supplies for gift wrapping, digging around for a pink bow to stick on the corner of her drawing.

While she’s preoccupied with finding the perfect bow to place on her drawing for Harry, you take a quick glance at your phone. He still hadn’t gotten back to you since last night’s quick conversation when he very briefly mentioned he didn’t know if he’d be able to make it home.

He was filming in Los Angeles. You shared your uncertainties about him going before he departed but in the end, this was an opportunity you didn’t want him to miss out on. You read the Los Angeles Times free articles on your phone daily, keeping track of the state of the pandemic in Southern California. You knew it was much worse there than it was at home in London. You feared what you were afraid of was sadly bound to happen— Harry may get stuck in LA.

You didn’t want to say anything to your curious daughter because communication with him had been so sparse. You didn’t know anything for certain yet. But what were you supposed to think? You knew flying nationally wasn’t a good idea at the moment, never mind internationally.

“Hey bug, d’ya think you can watch your brother for a moment? Mumma’s gotta go make a phone call.”

You hear your daughter let out a slightly irritated sigh. “I suppose I can, Mumma.” Ally responds with a voice laced with exasperation. You chuckle slightly under your breath at your overly dramatic (much like her dad) six-year-old and head into the kitchen, quickly dialing your husband’s familiar number.

“Hello?”

You let out a sigh of relief upon hearing Harry’s low, hoarse voice.

“Hi, honey. Just checkin’ in to see how things are going…” you hear shuffling on his end. “It’s December 23rd, you know.”

“I know, love.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Six in tha’ mornin’ here.”

“I’m sorry, H. S’just Allison keeps on askin’ when you’ll be home and ‘m just so worried you won’t make it home on time and you’ll miss Oliver’s first Christmas—“

“Darling,” Harry interrupts your anxiety-fueled ramble. “‘M gonna make it home. Have I ever not been there when I said I would?”

“No,” you say quietly. “I’m just worried, Harry. I hear traveling is going to get very strict because they’re trying to prevent people from going anywhere for Christmas…”

“Fine, then I’ll get my own plane with jus’ me and a pilot. Wear a mask the entire time and whatnot. Yanno I can make that happen if it’s necessary, pet.”

Harry’s calm demeanor about the whole situation brings you a bit of peace. Perhaps you were catastrophizing something that wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought it was a mere two minutes ago. If he wasn’t worried about not making it home, you didn’t see any reason to stress about it— not for one second longer.

“Okay then,” you reply, still a bit wary of his travel plans. “What shall I tell your daughter? She’s drivin’ me up the walls asking where you are every twenty minutes.”

Your husband lets out a breathy laugh, causing you to giggle along with him. “Tell her not to eat up all the Christmas cookies before I get a taste of one.”

December 24th, 8:45 AM

Part of you was hoping you’d wake up on Christmas Eve and Harry would be tucked into bed next to you, plump lips parted, the sound of his snores the only noise in the room. However, you were a rational woman, if nothing else. You knew he wouldn’t be by your side when you woke up.

You make your way down the hall and peek inside your son’s room. He was fast asleep, plump thumb in his mouth. You smile at your sleeping baby and gently close the door behind you, deciding to let him sleep in a bit longer before waking him up to feed him.

Next, you walk to your daughter's room, gently pushing open the door in case she was still sleeping. Instead, you find her sat at her desk, deeply focused on what appeared to be another drawing.

“Good morning, lovebug,” you greet your daughter in a sing-songy voice. “You’re up early. What are you working on?”

“Makin’ a letter for Santa,” she replies, not bothering to look up from what she was doing.

“A letter for Santa?” You start racking your brain for anything you and Harry could’ve possibly forgotten to get for Ally, but you finished your Christmas shopping for your children way back in November.

“Yes,” she answers matter-of-factly. “‘M askin’ him to make sure my Daddy is home by tonight so we can eat cookies together and watch Toy Story, Mumma.”

“I’m sure Santa will make that happen for you,” you reassure her. “You’ve been a very good girl this year, been so helpful with Olly and doin’ so well in school. The least Santa can do is get you whatever you want.” You see her smile as she digs around in her crayon box.

“Can we wait ‘til Daddy gets home to make Santa’s cookies, Mumma?”

“Sure we can, bug,” Ally claps her hands together excitedly, bouncing around in her tiny chair. “Gonna go make some pancakes, does that sound yummy?”

“Can we have chocolate chip pancakes please?”

“Are you askin’ me that because your dad isn’t here to throw a fit about it?” You give her a knowing smile, causing her to giggle.

“Maaaaybe…” Your daughter turns to face you, swinging her legs back and forth.

“If I make your chocolate chip pancakes, you can’t tell your dad. Deal?” You hold up your pinky. Ally gets up and runs to you and you bend down slightly so she can link her finger with yours.

“I pinky promise, Mumma!”

“Our little secret, yeah?” she nods. “Keep an ear out for your brother for me, bug. I’ll be downstairs.”

December 24th, 3:00 PM

“Love? ‘M afraid I got some bad news...”

As soon as Harry’s voice comes through on the other line, you can tell whatever news he’s about to share with you won’t be what you’re wanting to hear.

“What is it?”

It’s silent for what feels like entirely too long. You get up from your position on the couch next to Ally, telling her you’ll be right back. After breakfast, she convinced you to watch Toy Story with her, which quickly turned into a whole Disney movie marathon.

“Not so sure I’ll be able to make it home.”

You’re not sure if it’s his calm tone that bothers you, the fact that you didn’t want him to go to Los Angeles in the first place, or simply the fact that you and your children missed him terribly and haven’t seen him in nearly a month–– but your mood changes from relaxed to undeniably outraged in three seconds flat.

“You’re kidding.” Your tone is sharp, venomous. Harry once again takes a moment before responding, knowing that the current tone of your voice means he’d best proceed with caution.

“‘M not, love. I woke up early and everything to try and get this sorted out, it’s 7 AM so I was gonna try and catch an early flight––”

“I told you I didn’t want you going to LA,” you cut him off, voice rising slightly. “You knew how bad the pandemic was getting there. I told you this would happen.”

“What do you suppose I do then, Y/N?” His tone is becoming equally as sharp. “Y’want me to tell ‘em, “Sorry, I don’t give a fuck about the travel restrictions. My wife wants me home so let's make it happen!” ‘S that what you want me to do?”

“Don’t be a smartass, Harry,” you spit. “I’ll give the phone to your daughter and you can tell her you won’t be home in time for Christmas, then.”

“Y/N…” his tone is calm again. Fearful. “Don’t make me do that.”

“She woke up early to write a letter to Santa to tell him she wants you home by tonight, Harry,” your tone softens as well. “Even Olly has been asking for you. Swear his new favorite word is ‘dada’.” He laughs at this as do you, and the shared tension that was present just minutes ago dissipates.

“Just… lemme try a few more things before I tell her, yeah?”

“Harry, it’s already three here,” you gently remind him. “Even if you do make it home today, she’ll be asleep by the time you’re home. I think you just need to tell her.”

Your husband sighs, knowing you were undeniably correct. “Alright. Give Allison the phone, please.”

December 24th, 8 PM

“Almost time for you to head to bed soon, yeah Allybug?” Your daughter lets out a loud sigh in response, not shifting her gaze from the television to you. Ever since Harry told her he wouldn’t be home in time to eat cookies with her, she’s hardly said a word. She’s never experienced a Christmas Eve without her father so understandably, she was missing him tonight.

You shift Olly, who was falling asleep nursing on your lap, into a different position so you could face your daughter directly. From your new position, you can see just how tired she looks.

“‘M not sleepy, Mumma. Gonna stay up and wait for Daddy,” she informs you of her new plans. “When Daddy is home that’s when it’s time for bed.”

“Ally, remember what Daddy told you on the phone earlier? Santa won’t come unless you go to sleep.”

“I don’t wanna sleep,” she’s quickly starting to grow upset. “Not until Daddy tucks me in!”

You purse your lips, not wanting to argue with your headstrong daughter when your son was so close to drifting off into his nightly milk coma. Turning your attention back to the movie that was quietly playing on the television, you decide to drop it for now and try again later.

December 24th, 9:05 PM

Not more than an hour later, Olly is upstairs in his crib fast asleep whilst Ally is still laying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree, fighting sleep. She was determined to stay up until her father walked through the front door, and you knew getting her to agree to go to bed was going to be a battle and a half.

“You’re not ready to go to bed yet, Ally?” Her eyes fly open once she hears you addressing her.

“Not yet, Mumma. ‘M not sleepy yet.” Her words are a little slurred due to the exhausted state she was in. You hum in response.

“Could’ve sworn your eyes just shut for a minute there,” you pause for a second to see if she’ll look your way. “Must’ve just been my old lady eyes playin’ tricks on me, y’think?”

“I wasn’t sleeping!” She immediately defends herself, frown lines indenting her forehead. “Can we drink more hot chocolate?”

You knew if you wanted your daughter to fall asleep within the hour, another sugar rush wasn’t the best idea. You instead offer her a hot cup of sleepytime tea and she excitedly agrees once you tell her it’s her father’s favorite type of tea to drink at bedtime. You place her down on the kitchen counter while you fill the kettle and wait for it to whistle.

“What are you looking forward to the most from Santa, bug?”

Her eyes light up at your question. “Well, I really want a new bike! ‘Member Mumma? How I asked him for a pink bike? And I also want a cool swing set! Since we haven’t been able to go to the park in so long,” her smile falters and she looks down at her dangling feet. “I want Daddy to come home the mostest, though.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break in two upon hearing your daughter admit that Harry being home would be the greatest gift of all. “So do I, lovebug. He’ll be here in the mornin’ to watch you and your brother open all the gifts Santa got you though, don’t you worry.”

For everyone’s sake, you hoped that was true.

December 24th, 11:50 PM

Sleep wasn’t coming easy.

You finally got your daughter to bed at around ten o’clock and waited thirty minutes before laying out your children’s gifts. It took much longer than it usually did considering you had to do it all on your own. Harry was usually the one to quickly assemble the larger toys while you laid everything out around the living room.

Despite it taking longer than desired, you were proud that you got it all done without waking your children up. Consequently, that meant you were now left all alone with your thoughts considering you had no more tasks to occupy yourself with.

You kept contemplating calling Harry, but you weren’t sure if he was busy on set or not. Surely he was immersing himself in work to distract himself from the fact he would not be spending Christmas with his family.

Deciding you may need a cup of the sleepytime tea you offered Allison earlier, you quietly get out of bed and open your door, sock-clad feet padding softly against the wooden floors. It’s unnervingly silent in your home–– the tea kettle coming to a boil being the only source of noise. You keep unlocking and re-locking your phone, finally deciding to call your husband to see how he’s spending his day. It goes to automatic voicemail.

You assume the reason for this must be that he’s busy filming on set and set your phone down with a sigh, standing on your tiptoes to retrieve a mug from the cabinet. You mutter a slew of curse words under your breath intended for Harry who always puts the mugs up far too high even though you tell him not to.

Right as you begin pouring the now boiling water into your teacup, the faint jingling of your front door causes you to startle so badly that you nearly drop the kettle on the ground. You try to think back to everything Harry ever told you to do in the event of an intruder but your mind goes blank from fright. Deciding to use the scalding water as your weapon, you slowly creep towards the door, your only plan being to fling the water on whoever it was as soon as they got the door open. As soon as you hear the lock click, you flick the lid open that covers the spout and draw your arm back.

“Shit––”

“Harry?”

Your husband jumps slightly, his eyes blinking rapidly in an effort to adjust to the dark living room. You reach beside him and quickly turn on the light, shakily letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He looks exhausted, his hair is an absolute mess, and his eyes are red from sleep deprivation–– but he’s home. You set the tea kettle down on the coffee table and fling yourself into his arms, breathing in the scent of the man you haven’t seen in a month. He drops his bags at his feet so he can properly embrace you, pulling you into him.

“Merry Christmas, darling,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head and stays like that for a moment saying nothing, just breathing you in. “Missed ya so fuckin’ much.

“How? I thought…” you trail off. “You said that they said…”

Harry laughs quietly. “Remember what I told ya? I said to ‘em, ‘Don’t give a fuck about your travel restrictions! M’wife wants me home.’” You laugh at him, knowing he was far too kind to talk to anyone that way.

“Yeah, okay,” you reply sarcastically. You pull him in for another hug, placing wet kisses along his jawline. “I’m so happy you’re home. The kids are gonna be over the moon, especially Allison.” Harry hums, surveying the room.

“Looks like you did a good job in here, Mrs. Claus. See ya even assembled some toys all by yourself,” he quirks an eyebrow. “Were you jus’ pretendin’ not to know how to do it all these years so I’d be stuck with all the hard labor?”

“Maybe.”

He pulls you back into him, tickling your sides. “My sneaky girl,” he bends down so his lips are level with your neck and sucks gently, causing you to let out a quiet moan. You see his eyes land on the tea kettle that was sitting forgotten on the coffee table. “Making a cuppa? Can I have one? ‘M freezin’.”

“I can think of something else we can do to get you warmed up,” you reach for his hands, interlocking his fingers with yours. “If you know what I’m gettin’ at.”

“Hmm…” Harry releases one of his hands from your grip and taps at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “Not too sure I can say I know what you’re sayin’. Maybe you should just tell me?”

You frown. “You’re really gonna make me say it, huh?”

“Y’know I’d give you the entire world if you asked me for it. All you gotta do is tell me what you want from me and it’s yours–– ‘m sure you’ve known that since the first day we met, though.” Harry takes a step back, crossing his arms across his chest. Even in his thick winter coat, you can see the way his biceps flex, and it makes you even more feral for him.

“Fine,” you say quietly, feeling yourself start to grow shy under his intense gaze. “I’m kinda... in the mood.” You say it so softly that it would most likely be inaudible to Harry if he wasn’t standing mere inches away from you. Harry throws his head back in laughter and you quickly shush him, not wanting any of your children to wake up.

“In the mood? C’mon, pet,” he uncrosses his arms and reaches for one of your hands. “Tha’s not tellin’ me what you want from me. Tell me exactly what you want, lovie.”

“You know what I want, H,” you tell him with a hint of annoyance in your voice. “It’s been a month. Yanno I want you to fuck me, why are you makin’ me say it?”

Harry gives you a shit-eating grin. “You jus’ said it. I didn’t make you say anything.”

You roll your eyes at his immaturity, already in the process of lifting your nightshirt (one of his old t-shirts that’s become just a little too tight on him) over your head. “Are we gonna get to it or not? Because if not, I’ll just go back to makin’ myself some tea and call it a night––”

Harry takes half a step towards you and reaches up to cup your face, colliding his lips with yours. His lips are a little chapped and taste of his favorite rose lip balm. You feel your body relaxing into the kiss, knees going weak as he walks you back onto the couch.

“You’ve been eatin’ up all the sugar cookies, haven’t you? Can taste it on ya. Thought those were for Santa,” he’s pulled away from you to examine your face. “A bit naughty of you, wouldn’t ya say?”

“Please stop referring to yourself as Santa when we’re about to have sex, Harry.”

“You’re not bein’ very kind to the person that’s about to go down on you, are you?” He sucks harshly on the valley between your breasts, wanting to be sure a deep-colored bruise will appear on your skin later. “That’s okay. It is Christmas, after all. ‘M in a giving mood.”

“Stop talking and get to it then.”

Harry slides off the couch and onto his knees in between your legs, gently kissing your thighs. “Cute pair of undies–– s’like you knew I was comin’ home tonight.” Before you can respond Harry’s fingers are tugging at the waistband of your underwear, eager to get them off of you. He presses light kisses to your core, mumbling about how much he missed the smell of you and how sweet you tasted.

One hand is resting across your stomach while the other one is in between your folds, spreading you open. You try squeezing your thighs around his head, overwhelmed by the feeling of your husband’s lips around your clit after being away from him for so long, but he removes his hand from your stomach and pushes your thighs back apart.

“Feels so good,” you’re breathless, tangling your fingers in Harry’s hair as his hollowed cheeks begin to suck more roughly on your clit. “Missed you so much. Missed this–– us.”

Harry pauses momentarily to look up at you. “I know, angel. God, do I know.” He attaches his lips back on you, swirling his tongue around your clit as you choke back your moans. The hand that is holding you open moves down to toy at your slit as he wordlessly checks to see if you’re okay with his fingers being in you.

“Please,” you say softly, encouraging his next move. He spits on his index and pointer finger before slowly sliding both of them in you, immediately curling them up. “Oh, Harry. Fuckin’ love when you do tha’...”

“Know you do,” His response is curt, simple. He’s focused on the task at hand–– getting you off. He uses the hand that’s lying across your stomach to rub tight circles on your clit, sensing you’re nearing your orgasm from the way you’re starting to clench around him. “Such a good girl fo’ me, darlin’. Gonna make a mess on my fingers in a second, aren’t you?”

You nod as you try to control your breathing and the loudness of your moans. The last thing you wanted was for your daughter to come down to inspect the source of the noise. “Fuck, Harry.”

“Come on, darlin’,” he gently pinches your clit, causing your body to jolt at the sensation. “Gimme a good one. A lil’ welcome back gift for me, hmm?”

Your hips are bucking up to the rhythm of his fingers slipping in and out of you as your orgasm quickly approaches. “Har, I’m close…” it comes out sounding more like a warning than a statement. He moves the two fingers he has inside of you in a back and forth motion, coaxing your first orgasm out of you.

“Tha’s my girl,” he whispers, not stopping his movements even as your back arches as your first orgasm rolls over you like a giant wave. “Givin’ me a good one jus’ like I knew you would. Jus’ like you always do. M’ sweet girl.” As you’re starting to still, Harry pulls his fingers out of you and holds them up to your mouth, instructing you to suck them clean.

You prop yourself up on your elbows so you can properly lean in to steal a kiss from him and notice a rather sizable tent has formed in his pants. Harry gives you a sheepish grin as he palms himself, hissing from the feel of his palm against his cock.

“Want me to do somethin’ about that?” You scoot over on the couch and pat the spot next to you, signaling for your husband to sit beside you. He lifts himself from his seated position, stretching his legs out a bit before plopping down beside you.

“Are you offerin’ me a blowie?”

“I mean, yeah?”

“Can we skip that an’ you can jus’ ride me instead? Think I’d quite like that.”

“Oh you would, would ya?”

Harry nods and unzips his pants, taking himself out. He licks his hand and gives himself a few pumps. “Still on birth control, I’m assuming?”

You roll your eyes as you move to straddle him. “Only been gone for a month, Harry. Of course ‘m still on it, you goof.”

“Can never be too careful. I don’t think now’s a good time for another lil’ one, do you? Think we should at least celebrate Oliver’s first birthday before we try for another one.” His hands are on his hips as he lines you up over his cock, helping you slowly sink down. You missed the burn of him which was even more intense than it usually was considering it’s been a while since he’s taken you.

“I think you’re right,” you reply. You rest your head on his shoulder while you adjust to the size of him, needing to take a moment to yourself before attempting to move. After a short adjustment period you begin rolling your hips, grinding against him in a way that was also bringing pleasure to your clit, still swollen and sensitive from your last orgasm.

Harry’s eyes are fixated on the way your breasts bounce in front of him, the way your stomach slightly jiggles each time you crash back down onto him. His lips are caught in between his teeth; you’re hoping he doesn’t break any skin so you don’t have to hear him whine about how badly the bruise hurts him later.

“Ridin’ me like your life depends on it,” Harry mutters. “Fuckin’ love takin’ you like this, angel. So fuckin’ deep.”

You simply hum in agreement, brain far too foggy to form a coherent sentence. Harry notices your movements starting to become smaller, lazier, so he puts his hands on your hips and decides to take over. He’s thrusting up into you like you’ll up and run away from him if he doesn’t give it his all. He cups your face with one hand and gently guides you towards him, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your lips.

“Fuck, H,” your eyes are squeezed shut and your wrap your arms around his neck, feeling your second orgasm quickly approaching. “Rub my clit please, almost there.”

Harry’s fingers immediately come down to rub at your slick nub, not faltering his relentless pace in the slightest. “Clench around me again, lovie,” his voice is higher than usual, whiny, and you know your husband is just as close as you are. “Love when you do tha’, jus’ need you to do it one more time.”

You do as he wishes once more, knowing once he cums you’ll be directly behind him. Harry lets out a string of expletives as he releases inside of you, pulling you tightly against his chest as he rides out his orgasm. You continue riding him, not slowly down as you chase your own release next.

“Harry,” you’re in a trance-like state, chanting his name over and over as you bring yourself over the edge. “Harry, fuck!”

“That’s my good girl,” he says quietly, rubbing your back as you rest your head on his shoulder while you catch your breath. You feel him beginning to soften inside of you so you lift yourself off and lay back on the couch, legs still shaking. It’s quiet for a couple of minutes as the two of you reveal in the afterglow of your orgasms, Harry gently running his fingers along your leg.

“Round two in the shower?”

December 25th, 6:42 AM

“Mumma! Santa came and he left lots of toys–– Daddy?”

Harry lets out a dramatic “oof!” as Ally jumps onto him, pulling the covers back. Her eyes are wide and she giggles are Harry pulls her into one of his infamous bear hugs, placing kisses all over his face.

“Mornin’, love bug! What’re you doin’ up so early?”

“It’s Christmas, Daddy! Santa came!” she sits back on her feet, a confused look on her face. “Did Santa bring you on his sleigh last night after me ‘n Olly went to bed?”

“Y’know what? He told me to keep it a secret, but he did,” Allison gasps in response to his news as she processes it, placing a little hand over her mouth. Harry sits up and gets out of bed, scooping her up in the process. “How ‘bout we go make Mum a cuppa before we see what Santa got for you and Olly? Tha’ sound good? Let’s let them sleep for a while longer, hmm?”

As you hear them exit the room you take a second to reflect on how lucky you are to spend another Christmas with you beautiful family before drifting back off into a deep, albeit short, sleep.

#harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #its not christmas til you come home #thanks for reading!

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lemonjoonah · 4 years ago

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Wrapped Together (M)

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader Word Count: 18K Rating: M Genre: Christmas AU, Romance, Drama Warnings: Protected sex, oral (m. rec.), referenced illness/death of parent, swearing, classism. Summary: Despite your best efforts to keep your head down, to self-preserve and endure what will no doubt be the worst Christmas of your life, you are still roped into volunteering for the hospital's annual gift wrap fundraiser. The enticing factor that lured you out? The promise of a new shift partner, Kim Namjoon. Though your first day together starts off with a slight miscalculation of his skills for wrapping, he soon becomes your essential ally in the fight to get through this lonely holiday season.

| Secret Santa Collab | My Masterlist |

A/N: A big thank you to @kimtaehyunq for asking me to join her Secret Santa Christmas Collab, this was my first collab ever and I absolutely loved it. And of course to my beta readers @m00nchild-shi and @ladyartemesia thank you for helping me gain the courage to post this. I hope that this fic is able to bring a bit of comfort to those celebrating the holidays a little differently this year, so please enjoy!

...

-5 Weeks Until Christmas-

Amidst the chatter of the office, a dull rumble reaches your ears and vibrates the desk beneath your fingers, waking you from the repetitive haze of your hundredth call report. The moment of confusion switches to frantic action when your brain finally catches on and recognizes it as your own personal phone. Scurrying through your purse, you nab it just in time, but after checking the caller ID you desperately wish you hadn’t.

You knew this call was coming, you’ve dreaded it since you felt the first freezing snowflake on the tip of your nose, when you heard the first carol blaring over the radio, and saw the first tacky inflatable gracing a lawn on your street. It happens every year, like clockwork, though this will be the first time she’ll be enlisting one and not two. Unable to put off the dreaded moment any longer, you answer, accepting that if you rip the band-aid off now and decline her invitation to join the wrapping fundraiser, it’ll be one less uncomfortable moment later.

“Aunt Emma, hey it’s been awhile.” She’s not exactly your aunt, but you’ve known her ever since you and your mother settled down here ten years ago. With little other family nearby she was one of the few you and your mom could always count on. Making your task to turn her down all the more difficult now.

“My dear, how are you holding up? I’m so sorry to do this but I'm calling with some rather unfortunate news.”

“Oh?” You exclaim, careful not to sound too hopeful that you might be free of your heavy burden.

“Yes, well it’s regarding the wrapping fundraiser. I wanted to put you on the same shifts as myself or Maria. I didn’t want to have you alone, since, well, you know... but there are so many rookie volunteers this year. And with you being part of the organization for so long, I was hoping you work with one of them instead for the evening shifts? It’ll just be you and him, do you think you could manage it?”

“I-I uh...” Now this is something you had not expected. You spent the past few weeks worrying about how you might have to work side by side with pitying glances, condolences, and referenced scripture from the usual staff. Any thoughts and prayers for your loss would likely turn you into a pool of tears. Not something you want to happen in public, or private for that matter, but if you are partnered with a newcomer, one who knows nothing of your past, maybe... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “I can do that.”

“I knew you could! I’ll put you down for the weekday evenings from the seventh up to Christmas. You’re off work at four, right? I’ll send you more details later, but do you want me to be there to introduce you to the other volunteer?”

“No!” You blurt out, insisting in a volume far louder than necessary, but you can’t risk her acting on the offer. Introductions when done by Emma are dicey at best, with one solid breath she has the capacity to share every bit of your sad history, leaving you exactly where you’d rather not be. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. No need to put yourself out like that, you can just tell me their name now and save yourself the trip.”

“Thank you dear, always so considerate. One second let me just grab that for you...” She pauses on the phone line, as you look around your office in worry, not wanting to get in trouble for taking a personal call on the clock. “Ah here it is. You’ll be working with Kim Namjoon...”

...

-Less than 3 Weeks Until Christmas-

After finishing work you head off to the mall for your first day on wrapping duty. It should be a relatively quiet night, since the majority of the crowd typically disperses at this time, heading home to be with families for dinner. Your own sits in a paper bag on the passenger seat of your car. A solitary meal as you battle the rush hour traffic. Finishing off the last of the salted fries with a lick of your fingers while you secure a parking spot.

Flipping down your visor you scoff when confronted with your appearance, your makeup melted off thanks to the struggles of your earlier shift. You dab and blend a fresh blot of concealer on the dark bags beneath your eyes, determined to erase any evidence of your doleful days and sleepless nights.

The rented store space is already set up, with a long table propped up right at the entrance. Dressed with a variety of paper and ribbon and looking particularly festive. The other volunteers give you a brief greeting and run down before they leave and pass the duties off to you. With them gone you take a seat, looking down at the selection you have to offer this year, trying with all your might not to focus on the empty chair beside you, one that is usually fill by your-

“Hi, sorry I’m late...” Your gaze flicks up from the table, startled to find a giant of a man. Greeting you with a smile warm enough to melt your frozen expression.

“H-hi,” You stutter out, staring at his handsome face framed with light brown locks, feeling as though you’ve seen it before, but can’t quite place where. “You must be Namjoon?” You ask, running through the list of actors and singers in your mind but coming up empty on who he reminds you of.

He nods, before confirming your name too, and launching into the reason behind his tardiness. “The traffic was not in my favour today.” He gestures to the table and the vacant seat behind it. “May I?”

“Of course.” You quickly scoot the folding table over so he can slip by the barrier that separates you from the mall. He takes off his coat to reveal a whole suit beneath, though he soon disposes of the jacket and tie too. You try not to gulp as he rolls up his sleeves in front of you, his arms flexing as they reveal themselves.

“Pretty quiet?” He asks looking around the mall.

“It usually is around now, give it an hour or two.”

“Have you been doing this long?”

“A few years...” You mumble, not wanting to dive too deep in that well, you quickly turn to pin the question on him instead. “What prompted you to volunteer? Did Emma enlist you during her recruiting effort?”

“She did, I found her posting the flyer at my workplace.” Namjoon chuckles. “But I’ve seen you all set up here before, and since my usual Christmas plans with my family have changed, I thought I’d join you all instead.”

“Oh, so you’re not spending Christmas with them?”

“No, they’ve gone to visit my sister and her family in her city this year. I unfortunately have a few work commitments I can’t get out of to make the trip in time, but rather than just mope about at home I thought I might be of some use.” Namjoon smiles again, his fingers folding the corner of the wrapping paper in front of him. “What about you, any plans?”

“No, I usually spend it with my mom, but she won’t be with me this year...” Or any year going forward, you consider while you give him a weak smile. She was the very reason you joined this organization all those years ago, when Aunt Emma was making her rounds and signing up everyone she could at the hospital, you and your mother were there for an appointment, your mom offered up both of your services lending you to a tradition that would extend for years through her treatment, remission, and the final return.

“So we're in the same boat?”

“I guess so.” His grin is so contagious, despite the differences in your situation you can’t help but agree.

Your first client of the evening comes forward and drops a small pile of kids toys in front of you both . “Thank god you're here. If I bring these home unwrapped my kids won’t hesitate to spoil the surprise.” You divide the presents between you and Namjoon while the mother keeps talking and flicking through the different styles of paper offered. “At least if they’re wrapped I can say I saw Santa at the mall and he gave me these early. They are so hard to fool these days.”

“I take it you’ll want the Santa stickers?” You ask pointing to a closed box behind you, hidden away from the wide and prying eyes of young children passing by.

“Yes, thank you so much!”

“No problem.” You assure her while putting the last piece of tape on the stack of video games. Though when you look over to check on Namjoon you find that he has barely even started. He cut off a sheet entirely too big and is attempting to fold it around the boxed animatronic pet. Your eyes stare at the state of the poor paper unable to look away from the crumpled carnage. But the shock soon turns to amusement over his determination to salvage the mangled sheet, and you find yourself biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh. Luckily the woman in front of you hasn’t noticed but once you're finished with yours, you reach over for the assist.

“Here, I can take over that one. Could you do the ribbon for me?”

Namjoon nods opening his mouth in an embarrassed grin. He does manage to secure the strand around the package but loses the spool before he can cut it. The red ribbon rolls all the way to your foot, before you stop it with a tap on the sole of your boot. Namjoon winces, while you let out a chuckle before bending over to hand it back to him, and finish wrapping the other present.

The attempt at a ribbon curl unfortunately goes the same as the package before it, with him completely at a loss and using the wrong edge of the scissor blade. Trying to save him you make another suggestion. “If you want you can always use the premade sticker curls.”

Namjoon nods and places them on the two packages along with the vibrant sticker of a cartoon Claus winking as he delivers the warning, ‘Do not open ‘till Christmas, Santa’s watching.’

As you load up the presents into a bag, Namjoon takes to the cashbox, looking expectantly from the client with his dashingly dimpled grin.

“Oh right.” She comments with an awkward smile. Opening her Gucci bag and matching wallet, the corners of her lips turning down when she rifles through several triple digit bills unable to find any smaller denomination.

The stand is by donation only, but the implication has always been that one should compensate the fundraiser for the service provided. You can usually tell when someone intends to leave no payment at all, and unfortunately you know this act all too well. She’ll apologize and say that she has to run to the bank and get some cash, but you’ll never see her again. Namjoon, unfamiliar with this ploy, continues to give his eager smile, and to your utter shock she submits, handing him a hundred dollar bill.

Namjoon thanks her profusely as she melts too under his gaze muttering, “Not a problem.” Before walking off clutching her now wrapped gifts.

You look to Namjoon in disbelief while he locks the money away in the cash box. Only breaking the silence when the client is fully out of earshot. “How the hell did you do that?!”

“Do what?” He raises an eyebrow completely oblivious to what he just achieved.

“She... she... you got her to donate, and such a large amount. How?”

“What do you mean how? People give that much all the time don’t they?”

“No, they don’t!”

“Oh...” He gives you another of his knee weakening smiles. “Sorry I assumed, I guess I’m just used to it.” He scratches at the back of his neck looking down at the table.

“Used to it? Where on earth do you see, do you get used to, that kind of generosity?”

“Through my job I suppose?” His grin turns to a look of embarrassment. “I work in art procurement, currently under contract with the museum. I seek out collectors and convince them to donate or loan out their assets.”

It would seem that getting people to open up their wallets is practically his profession. “Well... looks like manning the cash will be the perfect job for you.” That smile of his is a dangerous weapon, and one you would be remiss not to use in the fundraiser’s efforts. Though it still leaves one question unanswered. “But I have to ask...” Your previously concealed giggling comes to the surface. “Why on earth would you volunteer for a holiday wrapping station if you don’t know how to wrap?”

A blush reaches his cheeks. “Last year when I was here... I left with far more than I was expecting, and feeling as though I should have given more. So I figured if I couldn’t be with my own family, I wanted to do this instead.” He starts habitually folding a paper scrap. “And maybe I’d learn a useful skill-”

When a streak of red is left on the paper trailing behind his finger you jump to interrupt. “Is that...”

“Fuck.” He mutters pulling his index close to examine it. “Yeah, those scissors are sharp, didn’t realize I drew blood though.”

You immediately start rummaging around in your bag. “I know I have a couple in here, one second.” You pull out a small box of bandages and peel apart the papers to reveal the adhesive.

“You carry band-aids in your purse?” Namjoon asks, with a raised brow.

“You're the one who cut their finger trying to make a ribbon curl.”

“It wasn’t a criticism, sorry I just thought it was... nice.” He holds up the injury and you're careful to wrap the strip around it.

“Yes well,” Your face heats up as you catch yourself lingering. “Try to stay away from the scissors unless absolutely necessary. I’d rather not have to make a trip to the hospital.”

“That would be counter productive wouldn’t it?” Namjoon laughs outright.

...

Despite you being the only one to wrap you both manage the evening surprisingly well, pulling in a record donation amount.

“You must be good at your job,” you mutter with a smirk, as you finish counting the lockbox. “I’ve never seen people so happy to part with their money.”

“I only showed them how good of a job you did,” Namjoon explains. “I’ve never seen someone put so much care into wrapping.”

“First impressions for a gift can be important too.” You justify as you secure the cash in a deposit bag. “They put a lot of care into selecting the gift, why shouldn’t I exemplify that?”

“Even the gift cards?”

“Especially the gift cards. I have to make them memorable somehow don’t I?”

“True.” Namjoon concedes, with a small frown. “Listen I’m sorry if I didn’t make a good first impression on you myself. If you want I can call Emma and we will find someone else to help you.”

“No, I enjoyed working with you. It just caught me off guard that you didn’t actually know how to wrap. If you get bored of handling the cash I could try and teach you if you’d like... you said you wanted to learn right?”

“You’d be willing to show me?”

“Definitely, though let's stick to the premade ribbon curls. I’d rather not have to use anymore band-aids if I can avoid it.”

After pulling down the gate and locking up the station up behind. Namjoon accompanies you to the bank to drop off the deposit before you part ways for the evening, with you going out one exit and him another.

The sudden blast of cold air forces you to huddle in your coat, and crank the heat the very second you step into your car. As the windows to thaw and frost retreats, you spot your tall wrapping partner waiting at the bus stop.

“Now why would he...” You’re left perplexed judging from the description of his job and quality of his attire you assumed him to drive some sort of flashy car, never would you think he would take public transportation.

You drive over and stop right in front of Namjoon, rolling down the window. “Where do you live?”

“The Swan Estates, but if you don’t leave near there that’s fine I don’t mind bussing home.” Namjoon looks down the road. “It should be here soon.”

“It’s no problem, I pass by that area on my way home.” You reach across the car for the handle opening the door. “Come on get in. It’s too cold to wait for a bus.”

Namjoon nods, and eagerly hops into the car holding his hands close to his vents with a sigh. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I didn’t think to ask, I just assumed-”

“That I could drive?”

You nod giving him a sheepish grin this time.

“As you saw earlier I’m rather accident prone. I think it’s safer for everyone if I leave the driving to others.” He chuckles looking out the window. “What about you? When not rescuing people from cold transit stops or wrapping disasters, what do you daylight as.”

You grimace at the question knowing your answer is nowhere near as impressive as his. “I’m a phone-rep for Interlude Shipping, I work in their tracking department.”

His reaction is not the usual glazed expression you get when you reveal that you work in a call centre, but a look of awe. “You must be so busy this time of year, how do you have energy for volunteering too?”

“I’m used to it.”

“Do you like it there?”

“It’s... a paycheck. I needed a full time position with benefits right out of school and that was what was available. I would have preferred something else but...” You stop yourself, scolding how much you almost revealed. Finding it far too easy to talk to Namjoon. He doesn’t pester you to continue but lets your abrupt end linger in the silence until he points out his house within the estate. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Namjoon nods in agreement with his dimples on full display. “Looking forward to it. Thanks again for the ride.”

After he leaves your car another nervous giggle you’ve been holding in finally escapes you. Three weeks working with this kind, considerate and downright gorgeous man. Though there’s no ring on his finger, he has to be attached to someone. Men like him don’t walk around single for long. Your shoulders fall at the thought, despite the fact that you have no intention of forming an attachment at this time... it’s still too soon.

Before you even pull out of Namjoon’s driveway, your phone vibrates from the cup holder you stashed it in. Aunt Emma’s name popping up on the display. You press the green button to accept and put her on speaker while you pull out onto the road.

“Hello my dear, just checking in to see how the first night went?”

“Good, no great actually. I think you’ll be happy with the result.”

“And your partner? Everything working well with him?”

“Yeah,” You confirm looking up in the rearview mirror taking one last look at Namjoon’s house. “He’s really nice, we already have a system in place so I think we’ll work well together.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. I was worried at first, wondered if I had made the right decision-”

“You did!” You encourage her, not wanting her to change her mind, and make another switch.

“Great, so we’ll carry on as is then. I’ll message Maria to let her know, I think she’s still on shift at the hospital though...” Aunt Emma mutters to herself. “Speaking of which I had to stop by there today and guess who was asking about you?”

You freeze in the front seat of your car, unable to say his name, but that doesn’t stop your chatty Aunt from continuing on despite your silence.

“That Jackson, such a nice young man, it’s a pity you-”

“Aunt Emma, I’m so sorry but I should go. ” You cut her off unwilling to listen to her disappointment over your own personal matter. “It’s getting late and I have work in the morning.”

“Oh of course, no problem dear. Call me if you need anything.”

When you arrive at your cold and empty apartment. The silence greets you with the usual punch to your gut, just as it has for the past eight months. She should be there to say hello and ask you about your day, just as she always had. But all that’s there to welcome you is the stack of dusty Christmas decor boxes thrown in the corner of the living room. Unwilling to spend another minute alone you sulk off to bed, ready to put another day behind and start the next. But for the first time in a while, you are actually looking forward to a fraction of the never ending cycle.

...

Whoever said Christmas time is the most wonderful time of year, clearly never worked a customer service job. They’ve never been yelled at for four hours straight, gone to lunch, and then endured another four. With a couple weeks still left until the looming deadline of Christmas you can only imagine what you’ll have to listen to in the coming days. The woes of a parent trying to track down their child's number one gift... it’s enough to send chills down your spine. Just once you’d like to find someone happy on the other end of the line, someone who didn’t need something from you, someone who called just to say hi, and indulge you with a friendly chat.

With the last call of the day done you throw on your coat, and bolt out of the office before anyone else. Elated by the fact that you have somewhere else to be, happy that someone else is expecting you. Namjoon beats you to the station today, chatting with the other volunteers as they leave. One of them pats you on the arm and delivers a sad smile, you seize with fear and the worry that they had discussed you, but when you find Namjoon beaming without a hint of concern the weight lifts and you can once again forget your loss for now.

“Hey, how was work?” He asks.

“Good... good.” You cover with a smile not wanting to drag him down. He doesn’t look convinced his eyes narrow and the corner of his lip twitches, but you reciprocate before he can confirm. “How about your day?”

“Quiet, I’ve spent the past few months alongside the curators putting together an exhibit and with it finally finished all that’s left is to wait until it’s over.”

“So you had to stay here for Christmas only to wait for it to end? That’s too bad.”

“There are a couple other tasks I have to attend, an auction, and an event for the patrons, but the tear down on the 24th is pretty important, some of the lenders will want their pieces back in time for Christmas.”

“That’s such a miserable deadline for so much work. Why would they ask you to give up your Christmas Eve to do that? Surely it can be done after the holiday can't it?”

“Not this one, it’s ‘The Gift of Christmas’ Past’ exhibit,” Namjoon explains. “Many people were good enough to donate their family heirlooms for the majority of the season, but come the actual holiday, it’s time for them to return home.”

You just about fall off your chair in awe. You’ve seen that exhibit advertised everywhere, even been tempted to go yourself, but the thought of going alone has prevented your attendance. “I had no idea, that’s such a popular exhibit, you worked on that?”

“I did, I even helped come up with the idea for it.” Namjoon beams, with a small amount of red rises to the surface of his cheeks. “The curators at the museum have been more than accommodating. I never thought I’d get the chance to step into their roll myself. I was lucky to be given the chance, so you can understand why I had to stay and help them once it’s finished. Of course it’s given me some other opportunities I would never have had in the past too, like the ability to help you here.”

You nod still looking at him in admiration, while in your mind a further divide falls between you. As friendly as he is to you, it’s obvious that he’s way out of your league. Even if you wanted to pursue something more with him, someone of his status... really it’s a wonder he even looks in your direction, let alone chose to volunteer at this tiny holiday wrapping station.

Your conversation is interrupted by a mall goer with a bag of gifts. Namjoon helps as best he can, supplying you with tape as he learns over your shoulder. Loaning you his finger to help you knot the ribbon around the gifts. With a sizeable donation left in Namjoon’s care you are both left alone at the table again.

Between clients you do your best to show him how to wrap the small boxes and ready cut paper at your disposal. Though his folding has improved, his use of tape can be considered... excessive. “You shouldn’t need more than three pieces on a present like this.” You chuckle as you catch his hand before it can apply the seventh piece of tape.

“But your packaging looks so durable compared to mine. How is it supposed to hold together if not for more tape.”

“Years of practice with tighter folds and better adhesive placement.” You analyze his work. “You might be an up and coming art curator but wrapping is my craft.”

Namjoon laughs and grabs a fresh sheet along with the scissors.

“Should I go fetch my band-aids?” You ask, gazing at the sharp implement with trepidation.

“No I’ve got this, I’m ready to earn my redemption.” Namjoon folds the paper several times before cutting a rounded edge. “Wrapping might not be my forte, but this I mastered long ago.” He opens up the paper grinning madly as he reveals a perfect snowflake.

You giggle at the innocence of the piece in question. “That is quite impressive, when did you become such a proficient?”

“I’d say I peaked at eight. One evening when it was just my sister and I, we covered my whole house with them. Every surface, every window, plastered with paper snow. Though my parents were less than enthused I like to think of it as my first full art show.”

“What on earth possessed you to do it?” You ask, trying to imagine the look on his parents as they returned home to the indoor flurry.

Namjoon looks up with a heavy expression, for such a lighthearted story why does he look so wary to tell you “A mutual fri-”

But as chance would have it he is once again interrupted by another coming to your station. When the post dinner rush hits you hardly get another chance to chat.

...

-2 Weeks Until Christmas-

The week passes in much the same way as the past two days, but with each evening session Namjoon is able to improve upon his wrapping skills a little more. To the point where you are comfortable to leave him alone for a few minutes to man the station.

“You’re sure it’s all right if I just run to the washroom for a minute?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I could put up the be back in five minutes sign if you-”

“Go, I can hold down the fort... just leave the band-aids.” You are ready to let out a big sigh when Namjoon holds up his hands in defeat. “Just kidding, I promise, now go.”

You hurry off as fast as you can swearing when you find a line up. By the time that you are finally able to return you find Namjoon finishing up with an attractive woman and her single gift. You smile at her as you join him behind the table, she pauses, caught off guard for a moment but then hands him the donation along with a slip of paper.

Namjoon opens it as she walks off. Blushing profusely before throwing it in the trash along with the wrapping scraps.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing... she just must have gotten the wrong impression.”

“Did she give you her phone number?”

Namjoon nods looking down with guilt.

“And you're not going to keep it? She was gorgeous.”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Right, I assume that wouldn’t go over well with your girlfriend.” You speculate, seeking to figure out his status once and for all.

“No girlfriend.” Namjoon mutters.

“Boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend either.” Namjoon smiles. “I just wasn’t looking to get her number.”

You look at him in disbelief. If she wasn’t good enough, there’s no way in hell you could ever dream of being with him.

...

The drive home in the evening is rather quiet. Namjoon’s fingers drag across his lips as if in deep compilation.

“Any big plans for your couple days of freedom?” With Aunt Emma’s team working the weekend that gives both you and Namjoon some time off, but unfortunately apart.

“What? Oh yes, I suppose.” He answers as though you dragged him from a stupor. “I have an auction to go to tomorrow for work.”

“Buying art for the museum are you?”

“Not exactly in the market to buy. But if you're not busy you should come along, I would love some company.”

“Not because you would love a drive?”

“No, not at all, I was planning on booking a car tonight. I could come pick you up on the way.”

You shake your head. “No, if we’re going together I’ll drive. No need to waste your money on something like that. What time should I pick you up?”

“I’ll have to double check and get back to you but likely late in the morning?” You nod in agreement as he pulls out his phone. “What’s your number?”

You give it to him and your cell vibrates in your pocket as he sends off a text a second later, leaving you with his own.

“So I guess I will see you tomorrow now then.”

“It’s a date.” Namjoon smiles as he gets out and leaves you in the car.

You snort in disbelief, staring after him while he runs off to the front door of his house. No, there’s no way, he can’t be serious, it’s not a date, date. The phone vibrates again, reminding you of the unread message he sent, prompting you to look at it before you drive off home.

This was the only phone number I actually wanted. See you tomorrow, - Namjoon

...

You lie in bed caught between denial and anticipation for what’s to come in the next day. Every moment that excitement bubbles up inside, you are forced to push it down with the weight of scepticism. Namjoon was looking to distract from his lonely Christmas, you are just the band-aid to his superficial wound, but would that be so bad? Haven’t you been using him the past week in the same manner, a mode of distraction? The only difference is the depths of your injuries. While his might be a simple cut repaired by time, yours is a laceration straight to the heart, damage that will soon bleed through a flimsy bandage, but at least you can hide it for now, you can conceal the extent of your misery and enjoy the comfort that is him for the holiday. Ripping that band-aid off won’t hurt, not compared to the damage that has already been done.

You look back at your phone smiling at his message, confirming that this is what you want for now, when to your surprise another comes in.

KNJ: Are you awake?

You double check the time, 12:23 a little late for a friendly chat isn’t it?

YN: Yeah, everything okay?

KNJ: That depends, what are your thoughts on Hallmark Christmas movies?

You pause in confusion, questioning his motives for such an odd query. Coming up dry you can give him the most truthful answer you can.

YN: They’re chestnuts.

KNJ: Chestnuts? 🤔

YN: Palatable only when thoroughly roasted. 🔥🔥🔥

Your phone starts ringing a second later, the caller Namjoon. You pick it up to hear him laughing on the other end. “I’ll have to remember that. You up for burning a film? I could use another open fire, there’s a pretty horrible one on their channel right now.”

“I’m sure I could spark an ember of criticism. How bad are we talking?”

“There’s a made up country, a town that looks like it exists solely for the purpose of celebrating Christmas-”

“And let me guess, a prince?”

“You know it?”

“Nope, just following the trend of tropes.” You grab your earbuds and venture out to the living room wrapped in your blanket, a beverage in hand, and ready to turn on your own TV. With one bud lodge in your ear to listen to Namjoon the other is free to take in the cringeworthy dialogue. “My god why were you watching this?”

“Couldn’t sleep, and I thought this would also help put me in the Christmas spirit, but I can’t stop laughing at how bad it is.” Namjoon chuckles deeply as the heroine stumbles over a mere pebble and falls into the hero’s arm.

“I don’t think you have any right to laugh at that part.” You join him in laughter. “You two appear to have some similarities.”

“Wait, so does this make me the clumsy lead and you the dashingly perfect love interest?”

“Oh most definitely, I’ll be saving your Christmas.”

“I suppose you are pretty perfect.”

You’re thankful that Namjoon isn’t there to see your response, silently choking on your glass of water, followed by spilling your sip all down your shirt, further emphasising your next point. “I’m not perfect.”

“Well you should let me see that side sometime, or I will continue to feel like this poor woman who is confronted with someone way out of their league.”

Namjoon thinks that you're out of his league? “No, I’m sorry but in order for me to save your Christmas based on this movie I have to play the perfect hero.” Of course the leading lady swoons in her prince's arms. “I just wish the characters had more depth, I’ve read kids books with a wider emotional range.”

“Me too. And the timing,” Namjoon scoffs. “It’s always so perfect. They always meet at the perfect moment and latch on immediately only to have everything work out in their favour, and it all claims to be a Christmas miracle, it doesn’t work like that.”

“That sounds like someone’s been scorned before on Christmas.”

“Not scorned no. More like a missed opportunity, one that I’ve regretted for a long while.”

“Anything I can help with?” You ask. “As the supporting lead that is my mission is it not?”

“Maybe, I’ll have to think about it. Unfortunately my dilemma isn’t so easy to solve.”

“I don’t think anyone's dilemma’s are ever as easy or clear cut as theirs.” You yawn as you lay down on the couch and watch the pitiful drama unfold. “Their world is perfect and always has their back through some sort of mystical power or being.”

“I think people in the real world call that god...” Namjoon chuckles.

“Yeah well, our god is a shitty writer if this is what their creations come to expect.” You murmur, stifling a yawn.

“Is that a crack in your shining armour I spy?”

“No, just commentary.” Though your own internal defences are askew, and the longer you watch the more you understand why. It’s jealousy, jealousy of how quickly they overcome any tragedy, and how they do so with a picture perfect life, as if the creators left all the negative emotions, the realistic impacts of trauma, on the cutting room floor. If only you were that perfect love interest that Namjoon wanted you to be... maybe you can keep the facade until the end of the holidays, at least one of you can have a better Christmas for it.

All you have to do is continue ignoring the most painful parts, a practice you are well versed in considering the boxes still looming in the shadowy corner, still unmoved after all this time. You know nothing good will come from unpacking them, there is no comfort inside, the only thing that could help is long gone, the story which your mother used to read to you every Christmas before you moved here. You’ve hunted through those boxes so many times while she was still here with you, but now that she’s gone you don’t even have the desire to look, nor the strength to store them away.

...

You wake hours later with a loud crumpling sound in your right ear. Your bud still in place, and your call time continues to count past the 7 hour mark. “Namjoon, are you there?” You inquire with a groggy yawn.

“Fuck... yeah, did I wake you?”

“It’s fine, sorry I fell asleep.”

“Don’t worry I did too. But unfortunately I seem to have lost an airpod at some point in the night.” The rustling continues as he chats to you. “I refuse to lose another to this couch, it’s taken so many from me already, you’ think I would have learned by now.”

“Oh, then this is a regular occurrence for you? Chatting up women until you fall asleep,” you scoff.

“No! God no, I just usually fall asleep listening to music and then my cushions eat them when I lower my defences.”

“I leave you to battle it out with your sofa, but what time should I pick you up?”

“Eleven okay with you?”

You double check the clock, ensuring you have enough time for a shower and to look presentable. “Yeah that works. I’ll see you then.”

...

You pull into the packed parking lot of a large warehouse. With Namjoon looking dapper in a blazer and peacoat. You yourself are glad to have chosen to dress a bit classier than your usual garb for a Saturday afternoon. When he said it was for work you couldn’t risk dressing down.

But there is still an air of confusion about your reason for being here. If he’s not attending to buy something for the museum or a client, why is his presence required? The items up for auction are not exactly what you expected, with the majority of it being furniture and woven rugs. You tilt your head in confusion as Namjoon eyes up an old wooden desk.

“Sorry,” He mutters, seeing you as he comes to from his distracted state. “I have a personal weakness for such items.”

“Don’t be, but is that why we're here?”

“No, although it is tempting.” He nods over to a collection of old black and white sketches on the wall across from you, graphite scenes of the city from long ago judging by subject matter and the yellowing of the paper behind the frame. “They’re the real reason we’re here. When I heard of this estate sale I knew that some of those works would likely come to market. I’m here to find out who buys them, and hopefully see if we can secure a possible loan for the museum in the future.”

“So how do you do it? How do you convince them to part with such pieces other than that dangerous smile of yours?”

Namjoon humours you, flashing his most coveted weapon. “Many of the artworks found at estate sales like this, they’ve fallen into disrepair. They often haven’t been cared for, likely kept in some musty room where the humidity damages them. The museum has a team of top rated and highly respected conservators who would be able to properly preserve it and slow any further deterioration, and in exchange for their services we ask for a short term loan of the art.

“A win-win.”

“I like to think so, but some people are rather protective of their investment. It can be a tricky negotiation which I have been on both sides of when I worked for the private sector.”

“Which do you prefer more?”

“Definitely the public. The museum doesn’t pay as much, but the audience and notoriety far greater. I really hope that I can continue my work with them once my initial contract ends.”

“I assume securing this for them will help in that goal?” You nod to the pieces, admiring the sought after collection.

“One can only hope. Who knows, maybe I’ll get my Christmas miracle like the movies promised.” He jokes, putting his hand on your shoulder and leading you on.

While you and Namjoon continue to look around at the lots up for bidding, he proceeds to fawn over the wooden art and furniture, taking pictures and looking up the makers.

You can’t help but enjoy his interest, watching his eyes go wide and his mouth gasp when he’s found something which intrigues him. “Have you ever purchased something for yourself at one of these?”

“A few things, tables, chairs, and books too. It’s a great place to find unique pieces, or things lost to the past.” He gives you a shy smile. “Is there anything you’d like to look for?”

A possible item springs to the forefront of your mind. “Do they have any books here now?”

Namjoon grins at your request and leads you over to several crates filled to the brim with books. All the copies inside look to be older editions of epic novels, nothing like what you hope to find. Your heart sinks as you let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Can I help?”

“Nah, I think I’m out of luck. I was looking for a kid’s picture book. I briefly met someone at the wrapping station who found a copy second hand, must have been at a sale like this. I was hoping I would have the same success, but that seems like a bit of a far reach.” Had it not been their gift to someone else you would have made them an offer for it or even gotten their name at the very least, but you were so distracted at the time... all you can see and remember to this day was the book in front of you.

“I’m sorry-” Namjoon starts with an unnecessary apology, it wasn’t his fault that you lost the favourite book of your youth, that you missed the chance to give your mother one last glimpse of the pages with you before she passed.

“It’s fine,” You cut him off not wanting to dwell on the loss or risk deteriorating that perfect cover right here in front of him, in front of everyone, when he has something important to attend to. “Should we go find seats before they start the auction?”

Namjoon nods, seeming to examine your eyes with careful study, but he will find no tears, no dampness there, those are locked away tight. He escorts you to a seat near the back. “This way we can get a better view of those bidding without looking out of place.”

The auction lots pass by with many remaining silent. Namjoon points out several antique dealers to you that are snapping up many of the pieces. But the rest of the buyers all appear to be waiting for the same prize that Namjoon is.

“Do you have any favourites to win?” You whisper to him as the collection is carried into view.

“I’m hoping for anyone I’ve dealt with in the past.” Namjoon nods in the direction of a middle aged woman dressing in a fur trimmed coat and strands of pearls draped around her neck. “Mrs. Coleman already has a few works in one of the exhibits, and Mr. Roth over there.” He turns to a man wearing a tweed jacket and a sturdy wooden cane in hand. “Is one of the most notable patrons of the museum.”

Silence falls in the room as the auctioneer takes up the gavel again and describes the works. Many around you sit up a little straighter as Namjoon’s eyes dart around at those he thinks might attempt to purchase.

The bids flood in, with very few gaps for breath as the numbers are rattled off. It takes only two minutes before the going price is more than your annual salary. You lower yourself, pooling in your seat as the extravagant wealth is thrown around you.

Once the pace slows, Namjoon's face highlights his concern, his eyes glancing back and forth between two people, the older lady in mink he spoke of before, and an unknown man with a cell pressed to his ear.

As the wooden hammer drops so do the corners of Namjoon’s lips.

“And sold to the gentleman on the phone number three-two-eight, number three-two-eight for sixty-five thousand.” The auctioneer announces.

“Shit.” Namjoon mutters under his breath.

“What, what happens now?”

“Now we have an anonymous buyer who I have no ability to meet or advise.” He sighs, hanging his head, with his fingers dragging across his mouth again.

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper as he nods next to you taking several deep breaths. Your hand reaches out to his arm and he turns to you with a small smile.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll figure something out, but I might as well make the most out of my time here.” With the auction now over he rises from his seat and approaches one of the museum's patrons with an outreached hand. “Mr. Roth, good to see you, you’ll be attending the final night of the exhibit I hope, and who is this with you...”

While Namjoon continues to make pleasantries and exchange business cards you keep your eye on the sketches watching as they are rolled behind the desk and packed away in crates. You approach the area where one of the clerks is recording and distributing the information for the now rightful owners, with a mob of bidders descending on him for their newly purchased items so they might leave as soon as possible.

It would seem that this business too is feeling the crunch of Christmas. A flurry of paperwork is exchanged in haste passing from one hand to the next, until one signed receipt of purchase escapes his notice and falls to the ground in front of you. Picking it up you wait for the crowd to clear, giving the clerk a chance to recover before you approach with the lost sheet, setting it on the desk before him. His confused gaze soon changes to outright shock over his loss when he realizes what you’ve returned.

He thanks you profusely, causing you wonder how much strife he would have encountered had you not been there to return it. “No problem, you look like you have a lot on your plate.” You smile politely, attempting to soothe your fellow casualty of the Christmas rush. “I just have a question for you though, if that’s okay?”

“Not at all how can I help?” He agrees, his stance far more relaxed than it was with the horde a few moments before.

“My friend, he was hoping to get in contact with the purchaser of those sketches there, on behalf of a museum. I don’t suppose there’s any way we could get a hold of them, is there?”

“I’m sorry but not at liberty to divulge that ma’am.” Your rising hope falls, you knew it would be a long shot but you didn’t want to leave without trying. “However... if there’s a phone number or information regarding the museum’s interest I can include that in the paperwork to send off along with the purchase.”

“Really? You would do that?”

When the clerk confirms, you immediately turn on your heel and take a step in Namjoon’s direction before bumping into his solid chest, not realizing that he had already come to find you.

“What are you doing-”

“Getting you that miracle.” You grab one of his business cards from his hand, and turn back around to give it to the clerk who tucks it into the envelope along with the other documentation. “Thank you.” You smile at the clerk who returns the gesture.

“And you said I have a dangerous smile?” Namjoon mutters as he leads you away with a chuckle. “What did he say exactly?”

“That he would include it with the paperwork for the sale. I just hope they will reach out and call you.”

“Me too.” Namjoon smiles, but it doesn't quite appear to reach his eyes. “Shall we head out. I think I’m done here.”

The drive home is rather quiet, the weight of Namjoon’s gloom hanging in the air and he makes no attempt to hide it.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just trying to figure out where to go from here,” he groans. “Those sketches were going to be the start of something new for me. I know the buyer might still come through but I’m not going to hold my breath. I need to keep searching for what comes next, I’m just a little lost, but I’ll find my path again soon.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Sometimes it is, sometimes life will drop it right in front of me and other times I will have to search for it, but that’s a problem for after the holidays.” Namjoon looks out his window at the lights which start to come alive as you drive home. “Are you ready for the big day?”

“Christmas?” You give a nervous laugh, “No, I haven’t even put up any decorations.”

“Why not?!” Namjoon asks in alarm.

“Just haven’t really felt the need this year. There’s no one there to enjoy them but myself.”

“Which makes it all the more important to put them up.” Namjoon sits up in his seat, his whole persona changing. “I could help you if you’d like?”

You wince over the quandary. With your decorations sitting in your living room under an inch of dust it might arouse some confusion, and his heart would likely sink if he knew how long they actually rested there for. “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for it yet. Maybe another time?”

...

-1.5 Weeks Until Christmas-

Work continues to degrade as the countdown progresses. The only thing getting you through the shifts is the thought of Namjoon’s help at the stand. But as soon as Christmas is over, you wonder if your friendship will go the same way as the festive season, cast aside like the wrapping of the gifts you tended to in the weeks prior.

After a few days of busy shifts you’re both thankful to make it to another close. But when you are packing up the station Namjoon’s phone starts to ring. He looks down in confusion at the number without a contact attached. “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all.”

He grins as he answers the phone pacing further back into the vacant shop space and away from the sounds of the echoing mall. You continue to count off the deposit, and roll the wrapping paper. Trying your best not to listen, to give Namjoon his privacy, however you can’t help but notice the happiness in his tone, spotting his dimples from across the room when you sneak a glance. When you grab to move the last box of bows Namjoon ends his call. Tears glisten in the corners of his eyes accompanied by the widest smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“That was- that was the buyer.” He explains as he comes to help you with the final box, taking it from your hands and placing it on the back shelf. “He wants to meet with me this weekend.”

He’s so close, vibrating with an overwhelming delight. His arms move around you as though he is about to pull you in for a gracious hug. You start to congratulate him as he embraces you, “Really?! That’s gre-” only to be cut off when his lips come for yours instead. Once the shock evaporates, you start to appreciate the heat of the moment, the warmth of his skin, the softness of his mouth. Your hands reach up to his toned shoulders and neck pulling him down, diminishing the space between you. Breathing him in like this with your eyes closed, nothing else matters in the moment, nothing other than his firm chest pushing back against yours, his hands on your waist gripping at your shirt.

With a deep sigh and a bite to his own lip he pulls back. “Sorry I just-”

“Don’t, don’t apologize.” You cut him off this time.

“I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“I hardly did anything.” You laugh at the extremeness of his appreciation, though a small part of you dies when you realize his kiss was nothing more than a gesture of gratitude.

“That’s not true...” He responds, giving you his wide eyes and a shy smile.

On the drive home your companion can barely contain his delight, breaking into random smiles and laughter as he informs his coworkers of the success via text.

“There’s this event...” Namjoon starts, as you pull in front of his home. “At the museum on the twenty-third, a week from today, I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

“Next Wednesday? But we have a shift at the wrapping station.”

“I spoke to Emma a few days ago and she agreed to cover if we both wanted to go.”

“Emma, making a change so close to Christmas? I don’t buy it. What did you offer her in return?” You ask with a critical gaze. The woman runs such a tight schedule, only something great or important would have prompted her to agree.

“My next year of service.” Namjoon confesses, he looks down at his feet as though he might buckle from the embarrassment.

“Next year? You already promised to work it?”

“If you want me there that is. I’ll practice more in the meantime, I promise I won’t leave you to all of the difficult packages.” Namjoon chuckles. “But what do you say, will you go with me?”

“Ye-yeah I would love it’s just...” You stutter trying to come up with a good excuse but your brain draws a blank leaving only the truth. “I don’t know how well... how well I’ll fit in there.”

“What? No, why would you think that?” Namjoon places his hand on your leg while you drive. A move which causes the both of you to pause in reaction and him to retreat. “Trust me when I say you belong there more than anyone else.”

You nod your head and give him a small smile, wishing more than anything his hand would return. “I’ll come if you want me there. What’s the attire?”

“Semi-formal, and don’t worry about driving I’ll pick you up.”

...

-2 Days Until Christmas-

You stand in front of your mirror, wearing a dress which fits your shape perfectly, but stretches your pocket book significantly. The price tags hanging down from the zipper taunt you, tempting you to rip them away, to commit to the indulgence. Even if it’s only for a night, the payoff in the end might be worth the overpriced lace. You give in with a snip of the scissors and a swallow of guilt, letting the printed cardstock hit your bedroom floor.

You’ve spent the past couple of hours leading up to this moment in a fit of stress cleaning, disposing of the dust bunnies. Now at least if Namjoon comes over after... you won’t be completely off guard.

The phone on your bedside vibrates with a new message.

KNJ: Just pulling in.

YN: Be right down.

Sliding your shoes on and grabbing what you need, you leave your empty apartment with a growing smile on your face. The moment you can see the car from the buildings foyer both Namjoon and the driver exit the vehicle, though Namjoon is quick to wave the driver back to his seat, choosing instead to hold the door for you himself.

The thoughtful gesture is made more appealing as if it gives you a full view of your date in his dark three piece suit, his hair tamed back framing his handsome face, whose gaze appears to be giving you the once over for you too.

“You wrap up nice.” Namjoon jokes.

“Of course, I couldn’t embarrass you now could I? Have to land that first impression.”

“You would never. Besides I’m sure my colleagues will be fascinated to know who has enough courage to teach me how to wrap.”

“And how do you plan on introducing me to those colleagues of yours? As your date or your teacher?” You laugh.

“I was actually hoping I could introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend for tonight?” You panic, not expecting this development. “Wait, is this one of those fake dating scenarios? Did you tell them you had one and then-”

“I think we’ve been watching too much Hallmark.” Namjoon laughs and shakes his head. “No this is not one of those scenarios, but I’ll take whatever form of companionship you are the most comfortable with.”

He gives you the stare of a man who is looking for more, but you know he won't need you once the holidays pass. His loneliness is temporary, yours is permanent. You’d rather not get your hopes up only to have them lost as he fades away in the cold gloom of January when his family returns. “Let’s see where it goes.”

Upon arrival Namjoon leads you through the massive doors by hand, taking your coat and checking it. The main hall just off the entrance is filled with patrons and staff all mingling and drinking while dining on tiny hors d’oeuvres. You look at the crowd with apprehension.

Namjoon’s fingers interlace with yours again, a grip clearly intended to give you confidence. “I’ll introduce you to some of the staff first.”

Several people congratulate Namjoon on the exhibit as he passes, he responds giving them a brief thank you as he ushers you through the crowd. Stopping at a small group of two, who greet Namjoon with a warm welcome.

“Thank god you’re here, people have kept asking for the brains behind the exhibit.”

“And why didn’t you answer them.” Namjoon smiles before turning to introduce you to them, following up with the man who just spoke. “This is Eric Nam, a curator who I worked on the project with.”

“Don’t pass the torch, we both know it was your idea, I just helped put it into motion.” His coworker smiles gazing at you. “And you must be the one Namjoon has talked so much about.”

The heat rises to your face as you look to Namjoon who confirms the statement with his own embarrassment. “Thank you Eric for sharing that with her...”

“No problem, it’s the least I could do for someone who gave you the insp-”

Namjoon coughs and shakes his head, cutting off his verbose friend.

You're about to question your partner himself when the other colleague of his starts asking you questions. “What do you do for a living Ms....” You remind her of your name while Namjoon spotting refreshments wanders off with a whispered promise to get you both a drink.

“I-I work for Interlude Shipping, in their tracking department.” You explain clasping your hands together in an attempt to settle your nerves.

“Oh, how nice...” The false quaintness in her tone is matched with a smirk as she takes a sip of wine. “Maybe you can help me find out if my sister’s present will arrive in time tomorrow.”

“Valerie...” Eric growls.

“What? I’m merely curious about her employment.” She smirks at him before continuing to her inquisition. “How long have you worked there? Did you have to get a degree for your role?”

“No,” This is exactly what you were afraid of coming here, you just didn’t think the judgement would be coming from someone who works with Namjoon. “I started there right after high school. I didn’t have the luxury to go to an elite school to work in a place like this.”

Eric comes over and claps you on the back. “Neither did Valerie; she just has family on the board.” Giving a coy smile to his coworker who scowls and stalks off without another word to you. “In fact you’ve actually done more work here than her in the past month. I hear you’ve been helping Namjoon secure the collection we’ve been after?”

You nod looking off after the departed curator, worried as to what impact your interaction could have with Namjoon’s position here.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s just bitter that Namjoon didn’t ask her to accompany him here.”

“Oh, does she- do they-”

“Fuck no, but if she’s not everyone’s first choice she’s not happy.” Eric gets in a little closer. “You don’t have to worry about Namjoon looking elsewhere, if he’s at all hesitant it’s just because he’s a little cautious with you.”

“Why would he be cautious?”

“Why would who be cautious?” Namjoon asks, handing you a drink as he appears by your side again.

“Mr. Roth, that man should be careful. I heard he had hip surgery recently.” Eric responds, cutting in with a lie to cover your discussion. “It's good of him to still join us tonight, but enough about that, why don’t you go show her the exhibit before it gets too crowded in there?”

Namjoon offers up his arm in agreement. “I suppose we can get started on the tour, if you’d like.”

“Yes please,” You answer, threading your arm through his. “Thanks again Eric, it was nice meeting you.”

“You too, I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”

The stand next to the entrance bears all the names of those involved in the creation and a countless list of those who loaned out pieces to make it possible. “There’s so many involved, how large is this exhibit?”

“Not too big, you’ll see why there’s such a long list soon.”

When the door opens you find yourself in a hallway amidst what you can only describe as a snowstorm. The walkway, made to look like an alley set adrift in snow, with flickering lights and paper creations hanging from the ceiling. “Did you make any of those?” You ask, grinning as you squint through the flurrying beams.

“No, I left those to the talents of the students who came by on school field trips. It didn’t take them long before we had enough.”

“Find any new prodigies?”

“Several.” He answers, before pointing to the mounted photos on the wall. “But these works here are some of my favourites.” The pictures are framed to seem as though the viewer is looking in through the pains of a window to happy holiday scenes. From unwrapping presents around the tree to the busy crowds of your very own mall, each image sets out to draw from you a sense of nostalgia.

“I can see why.” You find yourself lingering on the last of the photos by an accredited local photographer, savouring the display as much as you can, worried that it might end too soon.

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon whispers, taking your hand in an eager urge to press on, “There’s plenty more to look at.” He points to the end of the hallway, where you find another door, though this one is dressed with a knocker and wreath looking as if it’s the entrance to someone's home.

You open the door to reveal a series of rooms connected by one long hallway. The first you step into you washes over you with warmth and comfort, the sound of a cracking fire surrounds you while the light of fake embers flows from the side. Set up through the room are tables of items from old to new ranging from Christmas tree ornaments, and household decorations to handwritten cards. “All of these-”

“Were loaned by families from the region, they gave a piece of their history and traditions up for most of the season so everyone could enjoy it. Over here we have...”

You could spend hours sitting and admiring in this room alone, but more than anything you want to push on more to see Namjoon’s excitement in sharing it with you. Each room features a different spot of the home. A chilly shed with vintage toboggans and sleds, a kitchen, stuffed with cookbooks and the smells of baking featuring countless cookie cutters of every shape and size.

The next room is a little unusual and different from the rest, throwing you off for a moment, when the distinct scent of pine hits your nose. In the centre you find what look to be the replication of a massive trunk, and above false branches twinkling with lights. All round in a circle you find toys in glass cases spanning generations, when it hits you. “Are we under the Christmas tree?”

Namjoon gives you his coveted dimpled grin. “Yeah, do you like it?”

“I do. I can’t believe you managed all of this.” You exclaim hurrying between each display like a kid on Christmas morning. From wagons, and Rubik’s cubes, all the way to Furbies and gaming systems he has the whole collection of popular toys throughout the years.

Namjoon beams with pride once you’ve circled the entirety of the fake trunk and the presents beneath it. “Only one room left, but I think you’ll like this one the most.”

You're ushered into the next, a dimly lit space, a bed with a quilted cover stands in the centre, and on the walls you find countless story books, pinned open to so their stunning art is on display, papering the room with climatic holiday scenes and loveable characters. In one you find Scrooge meeting the ghost of Christmas past, in another you witness the Grinch save the sleigh from a perilous fall. Namjoon was right, this is without a doubt your favourite. While people filter in and out, you take your time looking at each set of pages. Your pace slow and steady, until you reach the special story that stops you entirely, the book you lost long ago, and have been trying to find ever since. Drawn on the pages before you is a little blue koala, with a pale purple nose, round ears, and a smile that lights up his face as he cuts out dozens of snowflakes. Namjoon stands behind you with a hand on your shoulder as you gaze at the book you know to be titled ‘Koya’s Christmas.’

You take a deep breath, while trying not to bend to the tears that threaten to break from your eyes. Focusing your attention instead to seek out the owner of the book, but unlike most there is no nameplate attached to this desirable artifact. “Namjoon, who loaned this? Is there any way I could contact them?”

When he gives you a sad smile, your gut clenches over the possibility that this might be a similar issue to what happened at the auction, a lender who wishes to remain anonymous. The only difference here being that you’ll fight Namjoon for the information if you have to. You’ve already let this book escape from you last year, you refuse to let it happen again. “Please, I’ll-” Just when you are about to plead with Namjoon’s integrity, another memory of your past walks into the room, but this one unfortunately has more tragic ties. “Shit,” you whisper, shifting to put your date between you and the newcomer.

Namjoon catching the change in your expression immediately reaches out in concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

“There's someone I know just over there,” You nod in the direction behind Namjoon. “I’d like to avoid him if I can. Sorry, it-it’s complicated. ”

Namjoon puts his hands on your shoulders, eyeing a path the closest exit without letting go of you. “Do you want to leave?”

“If that’s okay?” And just when you thought you were free, when you were ready to make a break for the door. The man in question, spots you and calls out your name.

You turn to face him, trying your best to keep your tone even and your lips pulled into a smile. “Jackson? Hey, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s been so long, not since...” Thankful he stops, not dragging up the subject you wish to avoid.

Namjoon moves closer, moving his arm from your shoulder around your waist, a comforting and protective gesture. “Dr. Wang... I had no idea the two of you were acquainted.”

“You know him?” You ask Namjoon, your concern rocketing over what else your date might become privy to.

“Dr. Wang was the phone bidder. I invited him here tonight to see the work we do.”

“The exhibit was impressive, I can’t wait to see what you have planned next.” Jackson confirms.

“I should go and let the two of you discuss-” You ready to step away when Namjoon’s hand grabs yours and Jackson calls your name again.

“No reason for you to leave, we should catch up.”

“May-maybe later?” You plead with him fighting back the tears, pushing down the memories his presence drags up. “Sorry I just, I need to go.”

You pull your hand free and race to the exit.

“Wait.” You can hear Namjoon call behind you. Though you continue to proceed out the exhibit and towards the closest exit outside, breaking into the cold evening air, only to find that he still followed. “Let me call for the car and we can go together.”

You stop in realization that your running will not deter him, he’ll pursue you unless you give him a reason otherwise. “No you should stay, this is your big event, I won’t ruin it for you.”

“Not without you.”

“Please Namjoon,” you beg, adamant that he return. “I don’t belong in there, I don’t fit in and I never will. Even when I try...” The ghosts of your past have a way of finding you and destroying your facade.

“I’ve told you before you belong in there more than anyone else-”

“That’s not true. I can barely keep myself together. I can’t, I can’t go back in, I'm sorry.”

“I don’t understand, what does Dr. Wang have to do with it? Did he hurt you? Did he-”

“No! No, he did nothing of the sort. Jackson was always very kind to me. Don’t let me affect your plans or any arrangement, you should go back and talk to him, I just can't be there.”

“You think I’m going to just drop you for him, especially when he makes you so uncomfortable? No, I’m leaving with you.”

“Fuck, just... please listen to me. He is a good man, he’s a good doctor, you would be foolish to give up this chance.”

“A good doctor...” Namjoon pauses as a grimace hits his face. “Does he have something to do with your mother?”

“How-How do you know about that?”

“I didn’t mean to pry, I swear. It's just, when I was first talking to Emma about you, out of concern she opened up about your past... about your mother, about your loss.”

“She told you?” Aunt Emma, you should have known she would do something like that, god forbid at least one person not know your history. “Then all of this, these past few weeks were they all out of pity?” You should have known, there was no way he would like someone like you. It was all out of sorrow for what you’ve been through.

“Not pity no, I like you, I like you a lot. When Emma said you were pushing her and so many others away... I concealed it out of fear of losing you too. I wanted you to open up about it until you were ready. I was just trying to help you get through this.”

You look up at the museum, drawing a distressing connection between Namjoon’s daily life and you. “Why? You think I’m some abandoned project you rescued from a deceased’s estate? One for you to mend, and later show like an achievement? You should have just left me where I was, instead of breaking me further.”

Namjoon’s hands immediately pull back from you. “I never meant to hurt you. Only help you move on, you can’t deny that you are frozen in place. You have so much more potential, but you're living in denial.”

“I live there because it hurts less...” You snap back in fury, as he exposes your painful flaws. “I live there so I can work, so I can help others.”

“But what about you? When will you let someone help you?”

You step away unable to answer his question, turning your back on him you race to the sidewalk to hail a nearby taxi, refusing to let him see a single tear fall.

Once home, you crawl into bed after throwing the dress to the floor. This was so far from the evening you had hoped it to be, with you instead left alone to ruminate on Namjoon’s words. Despising all the evidence he laid bare against you, turning it over again and again in your mind until your morning alarm startles you out of your stupor. Signalling for the last shift before your break for the holidays.

...

-Christmas Eve-

It’s finally here, the worst of all days at the call centre. With your eyes heavy from a lack of rest you take a seat at your desk with an extra large coffee in hand. On your computer you have this morning's team email pulled up, and attached to it a list of de-escalation tactics. You’ll need them today because if people don’t get their package by the end of the routes this evening, there’s no hope for tomorrow morning.

The call board on your phone is already lighting up like a Christmas tree, but you know those little embers to be fuelled by wrath, fury and unkept promises of delivery dates.

You try your best to remain calm during the egregious conversations. Offering up tips and tricks to parents who are worried that this will be the year that their child gives up on Santa because your company failed to deliver.

Your lunch break can’t come soon enough. But when you finally check your own phone it’s littered with texts from Namjoon. Messages of concern, apologies, and the hopes that he will still see you at the wrapping station tonight. He even sent a picture of your abandoned coat and promised to bring it along.

Fuck, you had completely forgotten about you wrapping shift together. Just one more night, then you can put it all behind you again. If you can just keep your cover for a few more hours then it’ll all be over and Aunt Emma will have what she was promised.

You send Namjoon a quick message confirming that you will be there, but not promising any more before you head back to your desk.

The calls get progressively worse with several people using foul language and demanding to speak to your supervisor, you try to talk them down as best you can knowing any call passed on to the higher ups will reflect poorly on your efforts.

Until one woman calling in search of her package finally wears you down, insulting you, your profession, even your family.

“Ma’am I’m sorry but if you continue to speak to be in such a way I am well within my right to disconnect the call.” A desperate bluff, your superiors would rather them end the call than you, you’ve been penalized for it before, and you’ll be damned if it happens again. But unfortunately she calls your hand.

“You will not! I have spent hours on the line trying to reach anyone. The shortsightedness of your company and staff is all too apparent.”

“It’s the holiday sea-”

“I know what time of year it is, but it seems your staff doesn’t realize Christmas is tomorrow!”

“You ordered your package past the guarantee date, we could not insure-”

“Now you listen to me, if there was any form of intelligence in that office you’d be working hard to ensure that all packages make it out before tomorrow morning, but instead you just sit on your ass fielding phone calls and giving excuses so you don’t have to actually go out and do honest labour. You must be the biggest disappointment to your family, not even having a proper job. How can you go home and face them knowing you've left so many without their gifts?”

With the woman's last insult, something inside you finally snaps, giving you the freedom to do what you’ve dreamed of for so long. “I don’t,” you pronounce, building up to take your final shot at both her and your employment. “Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to let you go, as I’d rather not listen to your nonsensical bitching. So merry fucking Christmas to you ma’am, I suggest you go spend it with your own family if they’re willing to put up with your pompous ass.” You hang up the phone and pull off the headset, refusing to answer the next blinking light that comes on to replace it.

You just sit there looking at it denying the next caller their chance at verbal abuse, and your company's lax policy to protect you from it. The chatter of apologies continue to echo around you as your coworkers press on, but after the years of abuse you can no longer hold it in. Your company always said that this position was a stepping stone to greater things, that opportunities would come you just had to wait a little longer, but after being shackled by circumstances, and no forthcoming higher step to take, you refuse to press on any longer.

...

You pull into the mall parking lot, far too early for your slot at the wrapping stand, with the contents of your desk now stationed in the trunk of your car. Taking refuge in the women's bathroom cleaning your face of the tears you shed on the way over as you try not to think too much about what you’ve just done. After refusing to concede and admit to any wrong doing you quit, telling them to shove their shitty policies right back where they came from.

Namjoon was right... and with the mall closing early tonight you’ll only have two hours with him, two hours to smooth the tension over and allow for an amicable goodbye while maintaining your cover.

He’s already waiting for you, with your coat in hand, when you show up. The look of pity that you never wanted to see grace his face directed at you. “Are you okay?”

“Fine... I just would prefer if we didn’t talk about last night. I’m sorry for what I said, and now I just want to let it all go if that’s okay with you?” You smile up at him extending the olive branch.

Namjoon nods looking down at the floor as his hands habitually fold a scrap piece between his fingers. The silence between you is drowned out by the carols echoing down the emptying halls of the mall.

“Didn’t expect it to be so slow.” Namjoon mutters after what seems like an age with no one coming to the stand.

“On Christmas eve? Yeah generally people are home by now, spending time with their-” You force yourself to stop, unable to say a word which will bring sorrow to your heart and loneliness to Namjoon’s.

“I’m sorry I can’t do this,” Namjoon interjects. “I want to talk about last night, I need to talk about it.”

“Now is not the time.”

“There’s no one here but you and me. It’s just us, the mall is closing, it's our last shift, if not now when?”

“Anytime but now. The last twenty-four hours have been the worst in my life since-since...” You take a deep breath burying the wave of sadness and regret back down in your chest refusing to let it out. “Please, just forget it okay?”

“Not until you stop shielding yourself like that.” Namjoon scolds you. “I’m tired of you living in fear that your tears will erode your cover, and that your anger will tear it away entirely. I’m tired of you thinking that people will only appreciate you if you maintain this perfectly wrapped state. You might think it’s pretty, that it’s convenient for everyone else, but you are only keeping others out.”

“Maybe I keep it on so that you won’t be disappointed in what you find when it’s discarded. A sad woman, with no direction, no dreams, unable to cope with loss, and I suppose I can add unemployed to the list now. Is that what you want to see? Is that what you want to find?”

“That’s not all you are... and as for your job, I’m sorry but fuck it. It’s about time you moved on to better things, that place was only holding you back, you deserve so much more.”

“No I don’t, do you want to know why I worked there? Do you? I took that job to make sure she got the care she needed. I promised her when she got better I would quit and find something else, but she never did. But if I leave now I’m accepting the fact that she’s gone... that she doesn’t need me anymore, because I couldn’t do enough to keep her here.” The first tear falls breaking through the long standing divide.

“Staying there wouldn’t have brought her back. Tormenting yourself by remaining frozen in place, won’t bring her back. It’s Christmas for god sake and you are being kind to everyone else but yourself.”

“This isn’t Christmas for me. If it was, she would be here... not you. I’m tired too. I'm so tired of looking at her chair and- and-”

Namjoon wraps his arms around you pulling you forward as your emotions tear through the shroud. He moves you to the back of the vacant store sitting you among the boxes. “I’ll be right back okay?” You nod, while he tugs the table in and drags the gate down to indicate that you are now closed. When he returns his eyes too are starting to redden. His hands brush through your hair, the side of his palm pressing on your cheek and catching your tears. After seeing one of his own fall you crush yourself against his chest, clinging harder to him than before. His lips touch the top of your head, his hands rubbing on your back and arms as he waits, waits for you to be the first to pull away. The lights for every other store shut off around you the music lowers, all that’s left is the retreating chatter of those going to celebrate the eve of Christmas, and still you hold on to him.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been a very good substitute.” He whispers, encouraging you to finally lean back and admit your denial, accepting his efforts to help, when you yourself wanted to do the same for him.

“Don’t say that, it was never going to be a happy holiday for me, just something I needed to get past. But for you, I at least wanted to make yours better, I’m sorry I wasn’t a very good one either.”

“You never were a substitute. You were the one I wanted to spend the holidays with. A different Christmas than usual but no less enjoyable.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” You smile, but you doubt it’s true. “I suppose we should go...”

“What about all the supplies?”

“Emma will come by in a few days to collect it all.” You grab the small donation from the lock box and seal it in the plastic pouch, while Namjoon rummages through his own bag. “Do you still want a ride home?”

“If you're offering, I would love one.” The flap of his satchel closes as he stops his search and instead goes with you to the bank and finally your car. You hadn’t checked the forecast for tonight so finding your car buried in a few inches of snow comes as an unexpected sight. At least with Namjoon’s help cleaning it off is a quick task.

Once inside you both warm your hands on the sputtering heater, changing them on the wheel as you continue to thaw your fingers while you drive.

“Do you have any plans for the next couple of days?” Namjoon presses, though hesitant in his tone.

“Maybe look for some jobs, and take a good long nap?” You answer with a dark chuckle, still preferring to miss the entire holiday if you could. “You?”

“No, nothing in mind. But if you wake up and want to come over, you're more than welcome to spend it at my place.”

You return both hands to the wheel as the road becomes more difficult to drive on, your tires slipping here and there on the ice beneath the snow. “I’ll think about it, though depending on how much snow we get tonight we might both be stranded at home.”

You pull through the neighbourhood gates and up Namjoon’s driveway. With the car stopped he once again dives into his leather bag and pulls out a thin rectangular gift he looks to have wrapped himself. Dressed as per usual, with far to many pieces of tape, he hands it over to you. “I know this won’t make up for everything, but I want you to have this. Consider it a very belated Christmas gift.”

“Belated? But Christmas isn’t until tomorr-” You take the present and succeed in pulling back the wrapping to reveal the book that you were reunited with just the night before. “Oh...” You look up from the cover to find the return of the sad smile on his face you saw in the museum. “But if this is late then, last Christmas, it-it was you? You were the one at the stand... with this?”

...

-One Year Ago-

You are counting down the hours and minutes until the mall closes, until you can pick your mother up from her doctor's appointment and head home, to your promised tradition of putting up the decorations. The past few weeks have been so busy, with work, volunteer shifts, and her treatments at the hospital, you’ve made it all the way to Christmas eve with the tree and ornaments still packed away in boxes, sitting in the corner of your living room since December first.

Aunt Emma is currently taking your mother’s position at the cashbox, thanks to the scheduling of the last minute check up. You light up your phone again checking the time, only an hour left.

“You can head out if you want my love,” Aunt Emma offers while swaying and humming to the carols. “It’s quiet enough for me to manage myself.”

You grin embarrassed by your desire for a hasty departure. “No it’s fine. I’m still waiting for the phone call to say she’s done, otherwise I’ll just end up waiting at the hospital.”

“Suit yourself.” She stands up to look down the halls of the mall. “Oh, I think we might have someone, he’s heading this way. He’s cute too, you should give him your number and put that mother of yours at ease.”

“Aunt Emma, I don’t need your dating-” You look in the direction she was speaking of losing the rest of your words when you find a tall beaming man coming closer to your station.

“If you need me I’ll just be in the back fetching more ribbon.”

“But we have plenty.”

“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” She waves herself off when he makes it to your table.

“Hi,” He greets you with the warmest smile and an even tone. “I was wondering if I could get these wrapped together?” He holds up a bag of gifts which he hands over to you.

“Of course. Any preference on paper?”

“Whatever you think is best, it’s for my mom. Just a bottle of her favourite perfume and something a little more special.”

You open the bag to find a small box containing the fragrance, and the other what looks to be a kids picture book. But what initially seems to be an odd choice for his mother, slams your chest with nostalgia when you see the cover and read the title.

“Koya’s Christmas.” You laugh with delight, you can’t stop yourself from smiling when you examine the artistry. The memories it brings back is enough to make your eyes well with tears.

“You know it?” The man asks, looking pleasantly stunned.

“Know it? I had it memorized as a child. I loved it so much I couldn't bear it when it was packed away at the end of Christmas each year.”

“Me neither, I flat out refused to let it go, I read it year round to the point where our old copy is currently falling apart on the shelf. Even made snowflakes to put in my windows like he did.”

“That’s right, that scene was one of my favourites. May I?” You gesture asking him for permission to look through it. He nods just as excited as you by the concept of something so sentimental. As you flip through the book you recall the beautiful storyline of a koala living in Australia, one who is so upset that they must celebrate Christmas in the summer, never getting to have a while Christmas described in the songs and shown in the movies. But once Koya talks to the leaves in the trees, and the other small animals of the forest, the realization hits that none of them would be able to stay there if it was cold enough for snow.

You are so close to tears when you reach the page where the little koala realizes it’s more important to have friends for the holiday than the frozen flurries. Proceeding to stay up all night cutting out perfect snowflakes to hang in the windows for all to enjoy at the family's Christmas Eve party.

“Where did you find a copy? I’ve looked for so long, I lost my own in the move here.”

“I actually found it by chance, amongst a bunch of rare second-hand books at an auction.” The man itches at the back of his head. “Sorry, I can’t be of more help in locating another.”

“No it’s fine. I’m just glad I got to see it again. I’ll have to tell my own mom that I was lucky enough to see a copy, she loved it as much as I did.”

You quickly wrap the two gifts in the one sheet as requested. Handing it back to him before you can be tempted enough to make an excessive offer of your own on his mothers gift.

“Thanks again.” He hands you two twenties for the donation. “My mom usually helps me with the wrapping but I didn’t want her to see this, you’ve made her Christmas.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

When he walks off you notice that he makes several glances back to you, holding a smile each time.

“So did you get his number?” Aunt Emma pokes her head back out from the stock area. “Maybe his social media, his dick-dock or whatever it is you kids do these days?”

“No, I did not get his tiktok.” You answer, unable to contain your laughter. “I was distracted by-” You’re ready to defend yourself when your phone starts vibrating on the table, the screen lit up with the number of your mother’s doctor’s office. You answer it, excited to share your account of the book. “Hey mom, you all finished? You’ll never believe what I just wrapped-”

“Sorry dear this is Laurie, I’m just calling on behalf of Dr. Wang’s office. We were hoping you could come by as soon as you can, the doctor would like to meet with both you and your mother before she leaves for the day.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be right down.” You hang up the phone taking a deep swallow of fear, the moment of happiness and nostalgia vanishing with the prospect of the news to come. It’s never been a good sign when they’ve wanted to meet with you both in person.

Aunt Emma catches on in an instant, pushing your coat on your shoulders and your purse in your hand. “Go, I’ve got this. You give your mother a big hug for me, and I’ll stop by soon to see you.”

...

While you try to relive, to pull back and hold on to, that moment from a year ago, Namjoon nods confirming your suspicions.

You mentally kick yourself for not recognizing him, for not remembering a single thing about him except your connection with the book. But after everything you had gone through, in that night alone, the devastating news regarding your mothers health had blacked out everything else. You took her home that night, trying not to cry, trying to be strong for her. Helping her into bed for some much needed rest, leaving your previous plans boxed up in the corner... where they remain to this very day. And the year only got worse leaving your mind engaged elsewhere, far from the man with the kind smile and similar taste in literature. “I’m sorry, I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you sooner.”

“No, it’s fine, it was a while ago, and I’m the one who should be sorry,” He whispers. “The moment I stepped outside that day, I realized you needed it more than my mother needed a second. I went back, but you were already gone. I was selfish though, rather than leaving it with another, I wanted to be the one to give it to you myself, I wanted to see you, to talk to you again, and so I kept it. I even put it in the exhibit on the chance that you might find it. When I met Emma at the museum and found out that you’d be doing the fundraiser again it seems like fate, but then I heard about what had happened since I saw you last. I realized how foolish I had been, how I had stolen your chance to share it with her before she passed.”

You reach up to your face attempting to wipe away the tears before Namjoon can see anymore, but he catches your hands before you can hide your grief.

“When you saw the book that day, you have no idea the impact it had on me. Watching you react, your emotions so close to the surface. You didn’t care where you were, what you were doing, all you could see was the memory in front of you. I wanted to create that for everyone.”

“Then the museum exhibit-”

“Was a result of my meeting you, my breakthrough idea which got me a chance to curate was thanks to your reaction. I was going to tell you when we were there, why you deserved to be there more than anyone else, but everything fell apart so quickly.”

“I’m so sorry, I never intended to ruin your night. I just-” You take a deep breath, finally letting out the words you’ve been holding back. “I was scared. Jackson was one of my mother’s doctors, he was always friendly and kind to the point where my mother would joke that he would make the perfect son-in-law. We even went on a date, but when she passed... it was difficult, painful for me to see him again. Finding him there last night, I was so worried you would learn about what had happened, and that you would look at me with the same pity he did, so I ran.”

“You didn’t ruin it, I deserved what you said for not being more open with you about what I knew. I was scared of losing you. So no more running, no more hiding okay?”

You give him a nod, unable to speak through the tears as you gasp between sobs. He hugs you across the cars divide. “Now will you please come inside? At least for a bit. It’s Christmas Eve and I can’t let you go home like this. I have the snowflakes up and everything but we both know it’s not enough without someone else to see them with.”

You shake your head, now laughing despite the tears, “You really know how to reel me in.”

“I’m just admitting that I don’t want to be alone on Christmas,” He looks at you with a raised brow. “And I don’t think you want to be either.”

...

Namjoon’s house is the very opposite of your apartment, filled with warmth and light, wooden furniture and plants in every corner. The Christmas decorations bring another layer of himself into the fold. As promised, his window pains are full of snowflakes and the sills... you squint at several small blue lumps perched beside the glass. Moving closer you recognize them as clay koalas made by the skill and hands of a much younger age. Namjoon catches you staring at one position in a dozing state. He takes it off the ledge and hands it to you to give a better look.

“Careful with that one though,” He points to another figure stationed in the corner. “It’s ears like to fall off.” He rolls the round bit of clay out of position chuckling as it exhibits the trait.

“Did you make these?”

“When I was a kid. My mom held on to them.” Namjoon muses as he continues to fidget with the figurine. “She dropped off a box of decorations before going off to be with my sister and her family.”

“I’m glad she did.”

“Me too. But even with all the trimmings and decor here this year doesn’t feel quite normal.” He replaces them both in their rightful positions of honour and gestures to the massive couch behind you. “Make yourself comfortable,” he insists, before wandering off to the joint kitchen. “Is there anything I can get you to drink?”

“I’ll have whatever you're having.” You take a seat on the monstrous cushions, which ease you in before swallowing you in comfort. Making it easy to see how this beast of a sofa has eaten several of his several earbuds.

“Beer okay?”

“Perfect.”

He comes round with the drinks and takes a seat beside you. Turning on the television he lets it play with low volume in the background so you might continue your conversation if you wished, but at the same time eases the pressure from you if you’d rather not.

You smile down at your beverage as the overly dramatic film plays out. Your mind still lingering on the damage that you might have caused with your hasty departure the night before.

“Have you talked to Jackson since, is he still going to loan the sketches?”

“He wants to, he sent me an email today saying so...” Namjoon pauses taking a sip of his drink, swirling the contents around in the can. “He asked if you were okay too. I haven’t responded yet, I wanted to talk to you first and get the full story, rather than speak on your behalf. But it’s clear he has feelings for you, if you told him how you felt, I’m sure you could still work things out if you wanted to.”

“No, I don’t think it’s feelings but his concern. He’s just too good of a person not to worry, and I’m sure his own guilt has a place in there too. Jackson and I never would have worked out, we went on that date, we didn’t have much in common, there was nothing there that I wanted to pursue, not like my time with you.”

Namjoon’s eyes perk open as he smiles. His arm reaches around, pulling you in to lean on his side and shoulder. As the strained plot plays out before you.

“Why do you insist on watching these.” You ask as your eyes become heavy after a few minutes. Leaning into Namjoon more he lays back putting his feet up and sliding you down with him to do the same. Your head now resting on his chest the deepness of his voice carrying down to your ear.

“They’re like the snowflakes-”

“A paper thin plot full of holes?”

“Funny and true, but not what I meant. I know they are by no means real, but they have this way of adding to the feeling of the season. I didn’t realize how much of a tradition it has become for me and my family until this year, when watching them alone just felt wrong. The movies were an excuse to sit down with them, to talk and laugh. The other night when I called, it wasn’t that I couldn’t sleep, I just wanted to spend the time with you.”

“But why me? You could have anyone, even Valerie seems to-”

“Why would I want anyone else when you helped me achieve something I’ve long dreamed of? You may think this cheesy but at the end of all these films, when everything comes together wrapped in a perfect bow, that’s how I’ve felt in every moment with you.”

“You’re right, very cheesy, but not unwanted.” You look up at him from his chest finding only sincerity in his face. “Now if we’re to continue in this similar Hallmark course of action, I do believe this would be the part where you kiss me again.”

“But I’m just the clumsy lead,” Namjoon jokes. “I’m pretty sure that’s your-” You lean in doing just that, cutting him off and pushing him against the couch as you kiss him. His chest quaking with silent laughter soon turns to rumbling groans as you fulfil the expectation of your role. “Though this would also be the part where I tell you we should wait before giving into temptation.”

Your nose scrunches up in displeasure over the notion of such abstinence. “Then let's omit that line, and go off script for the rest of the night.”

Namjoon takes his turn, flipping you over to push you down onto the plush cushions, where you sink under his weight. “Gladly,” he growls, his mouth trailing down your neck pulling on the collar of your sweater to seek further in.

Desiring the same you discard your own knit garment, before moving on to unfasten the buttons of his shirt, pushing it back until he is forced to tear his hands from the sleeves himself and whip it down to the ground.

Sliding between your thighs he wraps your legs around his back and picks you up off the couch. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he continues to kiss you while you squeal from being lifted into the air.

“Bedroom?” You ask, excited by the possible prospect.

He nods, looking up at you with a smirk. “If that’s okay? I’d rather not risk losing you to the couch too.”

You giggle at the notion, while Namjoon heaves you up again to get a better grasp, his mouth tucking into your chest. He fumbles for the door now behind you looking as though he might break it open if the knob won’t turn to his grappling grip. You reach back to assist and push it open. The cool air of the room hits you, causing you to cling to Namjoon’s warmth.

With two more steps you’re lowered onto the bed, where he grips the waist of your pants, unbuttoning and tearing them down your legs. Laying on the edge of the mattress, you watch as Namjoon kneels down between your legs. His hands glide up your bare legs and pause at the tops of your thighs massaging them as he asks to go further. “May I?”

You take his fingers and press them down on the dampening fabric. Namjoon groans and dips the tip of his index below the material peeking inside to find the warmth of your cunt. It’s a pity it’s so dark in the room, you would have liked to see his smile.

But it seems you're not alone in this desire, as Namjoon gets up and reaches over flicking on the lamp beside his bed. “No more hiding, I want to see you, all of you.”

“I want that too. I want you.”

He smiles kissing you with both hands before rolling over and pulling you on top of him. You return the favour by taking off his pants and boxer briefs releasing his erection. Running your fingers down the soft skin of his shaft, curling them around the base. Tilting his cock towards your mouth you take the tip, teasing your tongue on the rim of the head. Namjoon groans in delight, thrusting his hips up, you take it again as far as you can manage, enjoying his reactions to your tongue trails downward, tracing the swelling veins of his dick. With another drag of his cock you release him with the pop of your lips and he reaches down to grip your arms, breathing heavily with closed eyes.

“I thought you said you wanted to see me?” You chuckle at his undoing.

“I do, but I also want to last.”

“Condoms?” You ask, continuing to stroke his cock while you adjust to straddle his thighs.

“In there.” He mutters, pointing to his bedside table breathless and helpless to your touch. Only looking up when you have to free him to reach for the box and unwrap its contents. His own hands help you to roll it down his shaft.

You guide yourself down on his cock while Namjoon arches against his pillow and mattress. His fingers tracing up your stomach and ribs. You reach back to unclasp your bra just as he reaches your chest, and lean down into his touch.

With his firm grip you rock your hips clenching on his dick and grinding your clit on his pelvis. The louder he gets the faster you move, trembling as you chase your own high and pivoting down further. When Namjoon’s hands grip your hips pressing you into him the pressure becomes far too great pushing you over the edge, sending waves of pleasure through you until you collapse on his chest. He holds you in place as he thrusts from beneath, gasping as your climax continues, coaxing you to clench down on him, straining his thrusts until he comes.

Dotting the side of your face and neck with his lips at a soft and slow pace, he succeeds in forging another smile in your still gasping lips. He tilts you off and beside him in your blissful haze so he may dispose of the filled barrier. When returning to your grasp you cling to him and he you, dragging the covers up and over the both of you.

“I could get used to this.” You whisper, curling into his warmth. No longer afraid of the emotions that the holiday will bring. Glowing over the prospect of not facing Christmas morning alone, but wrapped together with Namjoon in the sheets of his bed. “Maybe even consider it a new tradition?” You joke with him looking up to witness his smile.

“If that’s a tradition...” Namjoon whispers, coming in for another kiss. “I plan on celebrating Christmas everyday for the foreseeable future.”

#bts smut #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #bts x reader #rm #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts christmas au #bts angst #bts fluff #bts wrapped together

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