#and at one point the staff asked the line to shift to a new spot for some reason

[lyekisses]

i got barricade for mcrla5 even tho i showed up at 11am the day of the show just bc i was nice and smelled good. just putting it out there.

[cocomanga]

To DeServe You. - Ch.01

Pairing: Choso Camo x Fem!Reader,

CW: JJK AU, Angst, Good Boy Kink, Praise Kink, Size Kink, Oral, BDSM, Unprotected Sex, Edging, Drunk Sex, Aggressive Sex, Overstimulation, Yan(dear)y Choso🖤

Note: please block me if my work is not your cup-o-tea. I do not own any of the character art. Please respect my blog art.

Total WC : 9.6K

TDY Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Playlist

Synopsis: Reader is working hard, meeting new people in a new town, and runs into someone she never thought she'd see again. After she left an impression on him that he never forgot, he vows to do anything he can to solidify a connection between them that will cause her to stay by his side for good.

So.... OMG y'all... I decided to just let it go. lol I would have edited, and edited, and edited until I made myself an entirely different story😩 I hope you guys enjoy. 😊

..... Minors: You have no business here. Love you, but please don't ....

▶TDY Playlist

Ch.01 - Unexpected

↞ ··· ↠

There he was again. 

That guy, “Mr. Kamo,” in the same spot. 

Curiosity bloomed more inside you every time you walked by and saw him sitting there. He sat alone, as always, nestled at a table in the corner of this fine dining restaurant.

It’s been nearly four months and he never missed an opportunity to show up, the light gleaming onto his face from his laptop as he sat comfortably in what appeared to be gray designer medical scrubs and black Pumas.

He ordered a light meal since it was late evening, just as he did every week: a Hibachi Steak appetizer, a side spinach salad, and a Hennessy XO.

He seemed to be a considerably quiet man: kept to himself, and was always polite and respectful to the staff and other customers. Yet, though the walls of the front half of the restaurant were lined with windows at each table, he made sure to sit at that one, specifically. Your table, every time he arrived.

At this point in the night your body was really starting to hurt. Two doubles, twelve hours each, and it felt like you’d been on your feet, shocking them with pressure from each step on the cement tile every second of each day.

“Girl, your table is ready to leave,” Shoko muttered, rushing past you.

“Okay, thanks! I’m bringing them their check now,” you replied with a quick huff, as you ripped the receipt from the printer at the computer and grabbed one of the puffy checkbooks from the stack next to it.

Finally, I can get out of here.

You whined to yourself as you rushed over with the thin piece of inked paper in your hand, along with the hope of receiving a fat tip.

“Hey! When do we get our dessert?!”Your customer at the last table yelled. They’d ordered it less than two minutes ago.

Two tables left in your section, and you, Shoko and Yuki were the last three on the shift. You turn to your frustrated customer, apologetic since you knew desserts were made-to-order. Like they care.

“I’m so sorry for the wait. It’ll be out in just a moment, sir,” you replied, hoping they’d calm down.

“My dude... relax. She’s working on it.” A kind and familiar voice is offered up as you set the book with the check down on the customer’s table.

You look over to see your regular, the handsome “Mr. Kamo”, addressing the customer in an attempt to correct their rude behavior.

You were surprised to hear him speak that way, since he was usually so quiet and reserved.

“That’s not my problem!” The customer griped.

“It kinda is your problem, though,” Mr. Kamo advised as he sat back in his chair, legs stretched out, feet firmly planted flat on the ground as he spoke with his hands. “You asked for a made-to-order dessert. So yeah, waiting for it to be made is part of the process, right?” He continued. 

You smirked in his direction, appreciative of him sticking up for you.

Shoko then emerges from the kitchen with his plate. You breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks,” you said gratefully as you took the plate from her hand and set it in front of the customer.

“No problem girl. Done and done,” she mumbled under her breath, rolling her eyes toward the table as she handed you a new check without the dessert on it.

“Tough night again, right?” Mr. Kamo muttered, his voice as deep and buttery as always as he tucked his signed credit card slip in his book, handing it over to you. No doubt with another large tip scribbled onto the total in chicken scratches.

“Yeah. You know how it gets around here when there’s a concert downtown. It’s always good to see you though, Mr. Kamo,” you reply, accepting the book from his outstretched hand.

“Just ‘Choso’. I’m sure we’re about the same age right?” He said, smirking as he glanced up at you from his laptop.

You’d never seen a man up close so beautiful and mysterious. His layered, jet-black hair was thick and healthy, hanging past his large eyes in long strands, the sides and back stopping just at his shoulders.

He’s pretty tall, with a perfect athletic build, solid and noticeable even with his baggy clothing. As gorgeous as he was, he had ... a scar... on his face, stretching clear across the bridge of his nose, a scar that oddly intensified his appearance, making him even more of an enigma and, somehow, even more attractive. You glanced down at his bare ring finger, wondering what his story was.

“Here you go,” you turned to slide the dessert guy’s new check to him. “Thank you so much for waiting, sir. Your dessert’s on the house. ““

He huffed as he snatched the checkbook from your hand.

You turned to see Choso glaring at the customer. If looks could kill, the guy would legitimately be dead.

Hot and protective sure is a hell of a combo. You lock eyes with Choso, flashing him a warm smile with a blush, mouthing a ‘thank you’ for helping make your night at least a little better.

A smile curled up into the corner of his full lips as he asked, “Got big plans after work?

“Uh... Well, I can’t say yet,” you reply with a sigh, “since my girls usually have what we’re doing in mind already by the time I finish my shifts.”

You shoot a quick glance up at him from the money you’re counting after you’ve pried it from the pocket of your apron, and notice he’s watching you intently with his hands interlocked in front of his mouth.

His intense gaze often puzzled you. Possibly making you a bit ... uneasy? Though, you couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. He was a stunning man. And seemingly as sweet as they come, but there was something so familiar about him... A familiarity that seemed to cause a shyness to creep up into your belly in the form of butterflies.

You began folding the cash, stuffing it back into your pockets as you glanced toward him again, “My back and feet are really killing me so I may just ... go home.” You sighed as you sat down at his table, crossing your foot over your knee.

It was common for him to sit there for a bit after most of the customers had gone home. You’d make small talk with him, mostly about random nonsense, and he’d close down the place with the last stragglers, the regulars that received free drinks here and there.

As a result, you, and a few of the employees got to know him a little, though he rarely, if ever, offered much personal info about himself. Most of the time, your collective questions were met with just “yes” or “no” answers.

“You should do some stretches before you go to bed tonight,” he advised as his eyes traveled up and down your presence.

You frowned as you squeezed your foot through your non-slip shoe. “You think so? I try to do them in the mornings.” You muttered through gritted teeth as you pressed on a particularly painful area.

“That’s good too, but considering how hard you work here, and the pain you mentioned, stretching before bed will help with blood flow and relax your muscles. Might also help you get some better sleep,” he continued, observing your tired, glazed over eyes.

“Oh, okay,” you frowned, cocking your head to the side. “I hadn’t considered that, especially since I’m usually so exhausted by the time I go to bed. At that point, all I can think about is sleep...Thanks. I’ll try it tonight,” you said, as your smile spreads a little wider across your face.

If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought you’d seen him blush a bit as he averted his eyes back down toward his computer.

“So... I’ve been kinda curious about you,” you prompted, “What do you do, Choso? I see you come here in scrubs most of the time,” you inquire, genuinely interested.

“They’re actually Masseuse tunics,” he replied, glancing down at his clothes, then back up at you, resting his cheek in his hand.

Your eyes brightened at the information you’d gained, “Really? Are you a Massage Therapist?”

“Hey!” Shoko interrupted, yelling across the empty restaurant toward your table. “Are you gonna get clocked out or are you staying here to lock up?”

She turned her attention to Choso, “Mr. Kamo, we’re trying to get outta here!” She whined.

He chuckled, looking over to you. “Guess we both better go huh?”

“Yeah,” you turned back toward him with an apologetic smile as you raised your index finger to Shoko, gesturing to her to give you a minute.

Choso closed his laptop and grabbed his things from under the table. “You guys working tomorrow?” He asked, standing tall as he whipped his bag over his shoulder.

“Actually, no. Thank God,” you rolled your eyes, “I can’t imagine being here again tomorrow. I’m off from both of my jobs for the next couple days.”

“Both jobs? You have another one?” He quizzed, surprised.

“Yuuup. Well, most of us here are working toward other things. Shoko’s in medical school, Yuki’s training to be a mechanic, and I’m a social worker at a non-profit nearby.”

“Wow. That’s... amazing. And a lot,” he says with his eyebrows raised.

“Well, this place is a damn good side hustle,” you chuckled as you stood with him.

“Seems like it,” he uttered, appearing intrigued by your words as he smiled, his gaze softening. 

His anxious eyes traveled over to where Shoko stood, quickly averted to the floor, then back up to meet yours. “So... I'm uh... I'm having people over tomorrow night. You think maybe you'd wanna come by?” he offers.

Your head snapped up to face him as a wrinkle formed between your eyebrows and your lips flattened into a hard line. You slowed your pace to nearly a halt, as you walked him toward the front.  “That's different... you've never invited any of us out...”

“Yeah, I know...” he muttered shyly. “But since I've been coming here, I noticed you seem to be a pretty chill group of girls. Believe it or not, I've been wanting to for a while.”

“Really?” You asked, curious what kind of gathering he had in mind.

“Yeah. You, Shoko and Yuki,” he shrugged, “it'll be just a handful of friends. Nothing crazy. A few people, a few drinks.”

You take but a moment to deliberate. You figured you'd seen him and chatted with him more than enough times to accept his invitation, and the idea of being that much closer to him seemed to flare a spark inside you.

“Sure.” you shrugged. “Why not? I'm in. I'll ask the girls if they wanna come.”

He nods, a shy smile gracing his face, “Cool. Why don't you plug your info in my phone? We'll keep in touch.”

You paused for a moment, taken aback by the idea of exchanging info with him suddenly as he passed his unlocked phone over to you. You always wanted to, but it never dawned on you that he'd actually initiate it so casually.

“Um... Okay...” You take his phone gently and add your info, handing it back as your eyes travel up toward his face, his hooded gaze and vacant expression locked on to you as you place the device back into his hand.

Your big eyes glanced up at him and back down to the phone in intervals as your lips disappeared into your mouth and blood flooded your cheeks.

His eyes seemed to survey every one of your features before he finally spoke. “See you later then?” He asks with a subtle smirk as he moves toward the door, pressing in the golden handle to leave as he waved back toward Shoko's agitated glare.

You walked over to her with a wry smile on your face as you approached.

“What were you guys over there talking about for so long?” She asks as you follow her out the back door for her end-of-shift smoke.

“He was inviting us out tomorrow night.”

“Really?” Her face mimicked the same confusion yours did. “Out where?”

“His place, apparently,” you shrugged, shaking your head, “said he's having people over and wants us to come by.”

“Wow. Sounds cool. Seems like a great guy, too,” she lights up and takes a puff as she finds her stool she kept outside to sit on. “'Cept I think he's just trying to get you over there.”

“Huh?” You uttered, “What makes you think it's just me?”

“What do you mean?” She huffed, “He's been sitting in your section every week, consistently, for the past few months. You're telling me you haven't noticed he's into you?” She asks, as she takes another drag of her already half gone Newport.

“Oh come on. I mean, for all I know he just likes the window seat,” you shrugged. “It'd be kinda arrogant for me to assume he's just there for me.”

“Tch... How much did he tip you?” She asked, with her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, damn I didn't even see. You called me over before I could look at his check,” you dug inside your apron and grabbed the last black book you had inside and opened it.

Your lips parted slightly mimicking a jaw drop when you saw the number. “Shoko...” you said, as you looked over at her, wide-eyed.

She glanced over your shoulder at the check. “Are you kidding me?!” Shoko chuckled, nearly choking on her cigarette as she saw his tip was two-hundred dollars, on top of the mere eighty-five bucks he'd spent on food.

“What the hell?” You said, frowning as you slapped the book shut.

Shoko giggled, “That's damn near five-hundred dollars he's spent on you this month, just coming to eat at your restaurant,” she murmured.

“He tipped you too, when he first started coming here!” You whined, a poor excuse to justify your position.

“Girl, please,” he gave me like forty bucks that night, and it was only because you weren't here!” She retorted, laughing. “Meanwhile, he's made you a regular monthly expense.”

You sat there in shock, realizing she's probably right, but not understanding what the hell he's doing. “Who does this? And … If that's the case, why hasn't he just asked me out? It's been nearly four months.”

“He just did, right?”

“Yeah, but after that long? I don't get it,” you said, completely perplexed.

“Look, let's just show up tomorrow night and see how it goes. Maybe you'll get some answers then,” she opened the back door, staring with raised brows, holding it open for you.

“Just exactly how long did you plan to have me waiting in here?” Yuki asked as she saw the two of you coming back in from the rear patio.

“My bad, Yuki. You know, you could've just come outside with us.” Shoko grumbled.

“And end up smelling like cigarettes? No thanks,” she retorted. “Can we please get out of here, I don't like hanging out where I get paid.”

Shoko huffed, “Oh my god, woman, alright. Let's get home.”

↞ ··· ↠

“Are you sure this is the place?” You asked Shoko as she drove down the dark road full of trees.

“That’s what’s in the GPS...” she said, frowning. “Unless he gave you shit for directions.” She let her window down a bit as she lit another cigarette.

“It’s awfully dark back here,” Yuki complained, with a turned-up nose, barely making out the trees whooshing past the window though the pitch black.

“Yeah it is...” Shoko squints through her smoke and the faint glow the headlights provided, regardless of the brights.

“Looks like we’re finally close at least,” Yuki interjected, peering at what was a glimpse of a few lights in a house at the end of the road as she rolled her window completely down. “Shoko, God. I really don’t wanna smell like cigarettes when we get there.”

“Oh, be quiet, you’ll live,” Shoko retorted.

“Oh ... my god,” you replied, picking up on what Yuki saw, the building finally coming into view. “Looks like we’re ... here?”

Shoko was seemingly just as shocked as you. ”Whoa,” She muttered.

As the headlights of the car illuminate the property, you pull up to a beautiful, eclectic, mini-mansion nestled away in the middle of this thick forest. The wheels of the car rumble softly as you roll up onto the smooth bound resin driveway of a three car garage.

“What does he do again?” Yuki asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. “You said he was a massage therapist?”

“Well, we were getting to that part but...” you started, as you shook your head, your eyes darting every direction, taking in the beautiful surroundings.

Shoko shifted the car into park, then turned it off. You all paused, gawking at each other, ears perked as you made out distant sounds.

“Hmm, I hear music... let’s go in. I’m a hell of a lot more curious now.” Shoko grins as she makes her way out of the car.

You all exited the vehicle, then walked slowly up the stairs to the front door as the tall glass windows displayed a perfect view inside the house.

An adorable young guy with pink hair flung the door open, wafting the cool air around as it seemed to pull you in. “Hey, what’s up? You guys friends of Cho’s?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Shoko says as she introduces all of you.

“I’m Itadori, Cho’s younger brother. Come on in,” he said with a bright smile as he stepped aside to let you through the door.

One of the first things you notice is the scent. It was a fresh, yet herbal aroma with a hint of dark musk. Strong enough to be obvious, but not overwhelming; lightly overpowered by the smell of the food.

You step into a huge room, onto the beautifully finished hardwood floors of a space so vast and open, you could see straight back into the kitchen, and beyond to more large windows connected to a door leading to the back of the house. 

The second floor was also visible from there, and as your eyes traveled upward, you notice a huge, wooden, intricately carved chandelier fixture mimicking tree branches, hanging from the ceiling, it’s lights brightening the entire space.

There were plants everywhere. Hanging plants, potted ones on the surfaces and a few large houseplants strategically placed about, a couple of them mini trees, stretching up nearly ten feet. There were even dried herbs hanging in the open kitchen.

The place was lit dimly but sufficiently, as the bulbs from the chandelier reflected beautifully off the windows. The entrance opened to the living room. A staircase along the exposed brick wall to the right of the door lead up to the next floor, the wall adorned with a few abstract paintings.

The kitchen, where Choso stood talking to two handsome guys, was full of modern stainless steel appliances, and every area was spotless. The taller guy was making drinks with a huge smile on his face.

The atmosphere was breathtaking. Warm, and inviting. You’d only just arrived and already didn’t want to leave.

“That’s Todo and Ino in the kitchen with Cho,” Itadori said as he locked up the front door behind you. “Make yourselves at home.” he walked over toward the quartz top island bar in the kitchen where the boys stood.

“Holy sh-...” Shoko mouthed to you, amazement plastered on her face as she looked around. “Let’s see how these drinks taste,” she says, smiling widely.

The three of you wander over to join them. You’d never seen Choso this way before. He looked so happy and relaxed in his element.

“He seems a little different here, right?” Yuki whispered to you.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Hey girls. Thanks for coming,” Choso’s face seemed to light up as he popped what appeared to be a piece of dark chocolate into his mouth.

That smile, though small, formed a tiny dimple between his cheek and his mouth. You didn’t see that often, if ever, considering his usually quite stoic expression. But you sure as hell wouldn’t mind seeing more of it.

“Thanks for the invite,” Yuki said cheerfully. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” Choso replied. “Did you find it okay?”

“We did, though we were a little worried when we realized it was back here in the trees,” Shoko jokes.

He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, sorry about that. It can be a little confusing. Especially in the dark.” He looked over to you, his eyes slightly hooded, piercing. His smirk still playing at his lips as he leaned against the counter. “You want a drink?”

“Sure,” you answered, trying hard not to keep gazing curiously at him as if you’d never seen him before. He somehow felt even more familiar now that you were in his space. You really did feel almost at home.

His eyes softened even more, blinking once sleepily as he spoke. “What do you drink?”

Gah... that face would surely be the death of you.

“Uh... I guess it depends. I should probably take it easy though, since I didn’t really eat much for dinner.”

“Hmm...” he said, contemplating as he finished his chocolate. “Ok... one Bloody Mary, coming right up. I’ll even add a celery stalk.” He said, his eyes almost refusing to tear away from you as he turned to make it.

You pressed your smile in, flattening your lips into a thin line. Fine and clever. “That’s actually perfect. Thank you”.

“Of course. I hope you can relax while you’re here.” His demeanor emitted a quiet confidence, but was contradicted by the slightest bit of timidity, making him all the more beautiful.

You tried focusing your attention toward your friends, yet Shoko and Yuki had already become preoccupied with talking to the other guys. It was becoming a little more obvious that Shoko was right.

You watched as he meticulously crafted your drink in a metal shaker first, then poured it into a small mason jar with a handle, adding a salt mix to the rim, then dropping in a celery stalk and ... a skewer... with food on it?

You frowned in confusion, having never seen anyone make a bloody mary look so ... delicious. He added chicken breast cubes, black olives, and cheese from the snack plates he had out. It was crazy.

“Wow. How did you learn to do that?” You asked, fascinated by his ease.

“My mom,” he responded with a small sigh, “she’s brilliant in the kitchen.” He’s quiet for a beat, then asks, “Come outside with me?” as he nodded toward the back door.

He grabs both glasses and walks toward the door behind the kitchen, which led out to his enormous fenced backyard, the entire area surrounded by even more lush green land.

On your way out, you eyeballed the girls so they’d have an idea of where you were headed. “So... I’m more curious than ever now, Choso. What is it that you do again?”

“Yeah, we didn’t exactly get to finish that conversation, did we?” He blushed as he looked down at the drinks in his hand, passing one to you.

You shook your head, taking a sip. Your eyes brightened, brows furrowing as the flavor hit your tastebuds. “Wow, that’s good. Even a little spicy. Yum...!” You giggled, sipping more.

“Thanks. I’m glad you like it,” he said with a grin, obviously pleased with his handiwork.

He sits down on one of the chairs in front of a crackling fire pit. You sit at an angle next to him on another chair. He took a sip of his drink, minus the food.

“So... I actually have a doctorate in Hematology and own a Massage Clinic.”

Your eyes grew wide as you sipped. “What?” Surprise and genuine interest gracing your voice. “Wow... Y-You own one?” One of your eyebrows shot up. “Well, that explains the sound advice you gave me before,” you huffed, smiling brightly.

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I worked pretty hard in college. Nothing mattered to me more than getting out on my own to make enough to take care of my mother.”

“Your mother?” You echoed, curiosity growing behind your eyes and voice. “Where is she now?”

“Well, she and my father separated when I was in college. Things were... difficult. But she’s doing well now. I actually got this place relatively cheap off of her. It belonged to both my parents. She moved back home and didn’t want to sell it outside of the family,” he explains to you.

You nod slowly as he elaborates and you hum, “I’m glad she’s well now. This house...it’s immaculate. Looks like they put a lot of work into it. But so did you, right? Now that I know what you do, it definitely suits you.”

He looked up at you with a warm smile, “Thanks. It’s pretty convenient for work. A lot of the herbs I use for tinctures and aromatherapy are here on this land. I even work from here when offering services to some of my VIP’s.”

You raise your brows, intrigued, “VIP’s, huh?” It was proving to be exciting getting to know him. Turns out he was far more interesting than you thought, but you wanted to know more.

“Yeah, some of my clients I went to school with, and some I met at events. Business just grew from word of mouth. I can’t say I’m good at networking.” He looked up at you after a pause. “But...I’m actually curious about you, too. How did you end up getting into social work?”

“Well, after I finally chose a major at college, I studied for the degree, then received an opportunity here in this city to work at a great place.” Another smile spread across your face as you looked out into the dark green of his vast backyard. You took a deep breath and continued, “It’s good money for the time I’m there, but I’m not as often as I’d like to be. I do love it, though.”

“So, at your part time job you help people, and at your full-time job you serve people?” Choso asked, his lips turning up in one corner.

You glanced down into your glass with a huff, “Yeah. I guess I do.”

“Who’s serving you?” He asked, his eyes burrowing into yours as he peers up at you from his position in his chair, one eyebrow raised.

You return a shy glance in his direction, your brow furrowing a bit, eyes fluttering as you search your brain for what felt like an answer to a trick question.

“I uh... I dunno,” you sighed, and silence falls between you. “I suppose I could ask you the same thing, ’Doctor’.”

“Touché,” he murmured, letting out a small chuckle.

You laugh softly at his reply. “But... there’s something else that I don’t understand. I mean, you’ve been visiting us nearly four months now, and never invited us out. Why tonight?” You squinted, “And ... What’s with the crazy tips?”

He smiled, looking down at his drink, his feet planted flat on the ground, resting his elbows at his knees. He took a deep breath and looked up at you as if you already had the answer.

Your head cocked to the side, curiosity obvious on your face, not to mention, your apparently very strong drink was starting to kick in.

“What’s a guy like you doing coming to a restaurant on a weekly basis, just to drop large bills on a woman you just met?” You press further.

He continued to hold his head down toward his drink as you spoke, swirling it around in his hand. His eyes flick up suddenly towards you. “Tch... You’re just as fiery and tenacious as always.”

“Always?” You echo; the buzz in your head created by that delicious drink traveling quickly through your system, the smell of it, even the fragrant greenery outside complimented it.

The more you relaxed in that atmosphere, the more you noticed about him, his features grew more attractive to you by the second.

Aside from the effects of the alcohol, a warm feeling washed over you. It was as if his meticulously curated environment had created a sense of relaxation that enveloped you. Clearly, he’s good at his job.

“Yeah,” he says, eyebrows raised, nodding. “Do you recall your last year of college?”

“Mmm...” you hummed, taking another sip. “Yeah. Well, most of it. I dealt with a complicated situation back then.”

“What kind of situation? If I could ask,” he requests gently.

You let out a soft sigh, strangely not finding it hard to open up at this moment, “I ended up in a coma for three months of it,” your brows formed a hard line in the center, “I really don’t even recall the reason. I just know I ... woke up in the hospital after having been out of it for that long.”

Choso frowned as he turned his gaze toward to you. “I’m sorry something like that happened to you,” he said as he looked out into the lush yard in the back of his house. “How badly were you hurt?”

“Well ... I had a concussion, a broken leg, and a fracture in my ribcage,” you tell him. As you took a breath, the aroma of burning wood blended in with the fragrance of herbs and the taste of fresh tomato, basil, and ... something else on your tongue. “According to my mother, I had been... attacked... by some of my classmates.”

“Attacked,” Choso uttered, still peering out into the yard, the word reverberating much more like an echo as opposed to a question.

“That’s ... awful,” he frowned, “You’re okay now though, right?” He asked, his gaze now raking over you as if searching your body for wounds.

“So far so good... I have a few scars though, of course,” you huffed.

He paused, slowly nodding. “Did uh... did you have a lot of friends back then?” his voice, lower and softer than before.

“I’d say I had a few. One in particular that I was really close to: Utahime. She’s still living in my hometown. I did have one other ... acquaintance ... of sorts. But... before we could get close, we kind of separated.”

“What do you mean ‘separated’?” He asks. You’re too buzzed to notice how seemingly interested he is in this topic with the endless questions.

“Well, he was a shy guy. Super smart and a bit of a mess. Wore glasses... He took a class with me, Psychology, but was one grade below me. I tried talking to him from time to time when I’d see him around since he was alone so often. I even tried helping him once. But it didn’t go well.”

“What happened?” He inquires almost immediately.

“Uh...” you frowned, sighing, lips scrunched up in one corner. “It’s kind of a blur...” you said, squinting as you shook your head. “I can’t even remember his name at this point. I don’t remember much at all about him except that I felt so...” you looked over at Choso, “comfortable with him.”

Your eyes darted back out into the yard, your expression softening as you spoke, thinking about this old friend of yours as you sigh softly. “He was brilliant, too. And quiet. I remember admiring how well he grasped the material.”

You stirred the remainder of your drink with your bamboo straw, continuing on, your frown deepening as you remembered the not so pretty parts of college...

 ”Some guys with a fraternity...ugh, they were such jerks... ridiculed him all the time. Masked it as joking around,” you scoffed quietly, shaking your head, “They kept taking his glasses, mocking him... It was so childish. I remember they broke a pair. It pissed me off ‘cause he never bothered anyone. I reported them but it was brushed off.”

Choso’s eyebrows jumped as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah... it was kind of a mess there,” he grumbled.

Your eyes flicked in his direction as he sat on the chair, “Did I tell you what school I attended?” You asked, now swaying a bit as you peered at him. Maybe you mentioned it in passing, but you didn’t recall doing so.

The crackling of the fire rang louder than his voice in your ears. He prompted you to continue. “But ... What happened to him after that?” He asked, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving your face.

You cocked your head to the side, “I don’t remember,” you said, as you ripped your gaze away, turning it toward the floor, in hopes that the blank canvas would help refocus your mind and maybe trigger a memory.

It’s silent for a beat, as your gaze trails over the floor, then back up to the vast forest ahead. He does the same, both of you just basking in the silence of the surrounding nature. Fragrances and flavors seemed to come to life in you senses, a tinge of particular floral and musky aromas surfacing in your palate.

You sit with your last sentence for a moment, thinking about how people come and go in life, the alcohol really making you dwell on it, and you bring your gaze to him.

As you begin to speak, he looks back to you curiously, “Isn’t it both beautiful and heartbreaking how people can come and go in your life? How they exit after they have fulfilled their purpose? Kind of like... hah, like a theater stage being life. And they exit the stage once they have finished their role, and you don’t see them until the credits - the credits being when you die, but even then, you probably won’t acknowledge them if the font is tiiiiiny,” you squish your thumb and index finger together with a little giggle, but Choso doesn’t share your humor in the matter.

He looks hurt. Pained, even.

“I’m sorry,” Choso says quietly.

“What?” You said, squinting in his direction. “That was so long ago. It’s really nothing to be concerned about now. Thank you, though.”

Choso put his glass down and stood, walking over to you, stopping a foot in front of you. “No, I mean, I’m sorry,” he said firmly, staring into your eyes with an intensity you hadn’t seen before.

“I um ...” you looked up, gazing at his concerned face. “It’s okay. Seriously. It’s ... not that big a deal anymore...” you breathed, wondering why or how this conversation suddenly became so much heavier.

“I’m sorry I did nothing,” Choso grimaced a bit as he spoke, cringing at his own admission. “I was a coward,” he held his head down in shame, as if in confession, as if spilling secrets that had been hidden, concealed in dark places within his heart.

“What?” You whispered again, gawking at his face - that pretty face - and your head tilted slightly, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You were so good to me,” he says, his eyes moving to meet yours. “Those assholes... they called me ‘So-So’. Tch. After everything, I really worried about you when you didn’t come back to school.”

You peered at him through your lashes for what felt like far too long. He holds your gaze, and you can see fear, hope, and regret swirling in those dark eyes of his. 

What does he mean? He sees your internal battle, and he breaks the eye contact, casually looking down to his shirt where there were a pair of glasses sat snugly over the first fastened button. 

You blink, slowly, the expression on your face morphing into one of shock.” Oh my god,” you gasped, unable to believe what... who you’re seeing.

Choso remained frozen in front of you, a slight hunch in his back, his eyes surveying your features which finally appeared... scared? Or just confused.

At that moment, it was impossible to know what to say. You found it very strange that you hadn’t registered the fact that a pair of glasses had been present there the entire time, though you acknowledged that your attention was drawn mostly toward his face since you’d arrived. Had he ever worn those to the restaurant?

It was as if you’d been under a light form of hypnosis, a daze of sorts that you’d somehow found comfort in. Though somewhere deep inside you, you were relieved the familiarity you felt toward him could now be traced back to a source.

“It’s been a really long time. I know,” he spoke softly as he hovered, no, towered over you. “I’m really sorry... for what happened.”

You were stunned, yet tipsy as you stood there, letting the revelation stew inside you of just exactly who had been sitting so close to you, having conversations with you, practically just paying you for the past few months.

Your breaths passed through your lungs much faster now as your eyes widened, taking in each part of his face, his body, his appearance, not knowing whether to be pissed, or to ask him how he’s been and be happy you could see him again.

The fact that your perception of him had completely shifted, that he’s now an entirely different person, someone you vaguely knew, weighing a thousand pounds on your chest as you took in this, “glowed-up” version of him.

“You asked me a question earlier,” Choso says, “That’s um...” his lips flattened into a thin line, “one ... of the reasons I’d been going to the restaurant. I came to see you every week because... I wanted to repay you.”

“Repay me?” You stood, staring, completely taken aback. “For what?”

“I feel... responsible,” he said as he straightened up. “Responsible for what you went through...for what happened.”

“How are you responsible?” You ask, heart hammering in your chest.

“It’s my fault. If you hadn’t been friends with me...” he shook his head. “I just have to make it right.”

“Friends with you?” Your face contorted in confusion. “You think that somehow caused a problem?”

Choso kept his head down, the look on his face a mix of sadness and frustration.

“Choso, I don’t even remember what actually happened. There were witnesses, but... It could’ve been a complete misunderstanding. Or even a total accident. To be honest, it’s a lot to rehash. Based on what I do know, I don’t understand your ... perception.”

The tipsiness in your body had numbed the feeling of revisiting this topic somewhat, and it hits you all of a sudden. You looked around, beginning to feel slightly dizzy, but very confused, not realizing you’d allowed a couple of tears to fall from your face.

“I um... I have to go,” you finally manage to get out.

You looked around for somewhere to put your glass down as you stood, shocked it wasn’t already shattered on the ground.

Choso stepped toward you, “Please–”

“No, it’s okay,” you interrupted, your hand raised as a silent request for him to keep his distance. “I just... I need to leave,” you tell him, shuddering as you exhale.

Your eyes darted back and forth as you attempted to gather your thoughts, remembering that Shoko and Yuki were inside. You turn to grab the handle of the door and push it open, walking straight past the four souls in the living room who now had terribly worried looks on their faces once they processed the look on yours.

“Shoko... um... will you...” you swallow thickly, “will you please take me home?” Your voice quivered as you worked to keep your flushed, teary expression to yourself.

Shoko panics a little, confused as you cross the room to the front door where she follows you, “Of course.”

Both her and Yuki’s attention turn to Choso, his expression pained as he stands at a ‘safe’ distance from you, yet making sure you get out okay.

“Is everything alright?” Yuki asks, obviously worried.

“Fine,” you nodded, “Totally fine. I just need to go,” you said, forcing a smile as you headed toward the door, both of your friends in tow.

Choso nods gently at her and Yuki, averting his eyes downward, then toward his friends. He walks over to the front door and locks it as he watches you get into the car and disappear back through the woods heading home.

↞ ··· ↠

You had actually lost sleep last night. Your brain was riddled with thoughts that kept churning repeatedly in what felt like an endless loop.

You never imagined running into anyone from your past, and of all people, him. Especially after having moved to an entirely different city. You had all but forgotten the heartache that came with that experience and now...

It happened a long time ago. Nearly ten years. But the PTS attached to it took years to shake, especially since there really wasn’t much closure, only questions and confusion.

No one had ever bothered to apologize for what happened, and up till now, the only ones who acknowledged it were your parents and the police who had investigated based on eyewitness testimonies and hunches.

Not to mention your hospital bills and time lost, having to retake missed classes, and the embarrassment of having gone through something so horrible. And since you transferred schools immediately after that, you never imagined anyone from there would be back within your proximity, and such close proximity, at that.

How did he even know where I was? I’ve been here over a year.

You couldn’t make sense of why this was happening. As you completed your morning rituals, your phone rang. A call from Yuki.

As you answered, you noticed a single text message from Choso.

Choso: ”Please forgive me.”

Your heart thumped once, heavily in your chest. I can’t believe this.

You answered the call from Yuki. “Hey.” 

You had briefly yet vaguely explained things to the girls in the car on your way home last night.

“Good morning, how are you feeling?”

“You know, I really don’t know?” you huffed, staring at the message he sent. “He texted me this morning. This feels so strange. I thought that whole experience was far behind me.”

“What did he say?” She asked.

“‘Please forgive me’. That’s all.”

“What is he asking you to forgive him for?”

You let out a heavy sigh as you processed that. “I really don’t understand it myself. And to be honest I’m not sure I wanna know.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t recall why things happened the way they did. After what it took for me to get past the stress of it, I can’t say I have the desire to dig it all back up again. I don’t get why after all this time he’d show up here.”

“Is your gut telling you something’s wrong?”

You took a moment to consider it, “Actually, no. I don’t remember ever having a single negative feeling around him during school.”

“Well, he’s been pouring money into you for a while now, do you think he has an ulterior motive or something?” She inquires.

“I truly have no idea,” you sigh.

“Maybe just talk to him a bit more? Find out what he wants. That’ll give you some more answers at least. Then you can decide whether to cut ties if necessary.”

“Yeah. I guess that makes sense. I mean, it’d be great to know that much.”

“I’m curious what the hell was going on with the fraternity. Were they really so wild at this university that this behavior was blatantly ignored?”

“Well, he definitely wasn’t the only person to experience them, they were just meatheads being assholes as far as I know. It was frustrating, though. That’s one of the reasons I bothered to intervene. Even I got tired of it.”

“Yeah. Can’t say I blame you for that. I would, too. But look, don’t allow yourself to feel pressured to deal with it all right now, though. Just...take your time and handle it the way that’s best for you,” she says gently.

“I’ll do my best not to wrack my brain over it.”

“Will I see you tomorrow at work?”

“Yeah, but only tomorrow night. I’ll be at the center in the morning.”

“Alright. Relax ok? Make sure you sort out exactly how you feel first.”

“I will. Thanks, Yuki.”

You bid each other goodbye and hung up. Your eyes flicked around a bit as the wheels in your head turned, already neglecting to keep your promise to Yuki not to worry. You gripped your coffee by the handle of your favorite mug, curling your legs up on the couch as you stared at his text.

You: When I was hospitalized, why didn’t you come to see me?

Choso: ...

It took a while for him to answer, you watched him type, then delete, then type, then delete again, evidenced by the bubble appearing and disappearing. You weren’t sure if he was making up an excuse, or actually having a hard time with the question.

Choso: I couldn’t face you.

Choso: Not after everything. Not until I could repay you.

You feel your heart clench and start to beat faster as you read his messages, and you type your response quickly with the first thought that comes to mind.

You: It happened long ago. The damage is done.

Choso: And it’s my fault. I’m sorry.

Choso: I’ll work to make things right. As long as it takes.

Choso: I could never make it up to you but please let me try.

Choso: Please.

The more honest you were with yourself, the more you were able to simply admit that you weren’t quite sure how to navigate this situation.

You: Why did you take so long to tell me? At the restaurant...

Choso: I wanted to talk privately.

Choso: In a better environment. & I didn’t want to scare you.

You sit and stare at your phone, and then up into space as you visualize his face in your head. It’s so crazy that it’s really him.

The guy you helped gather his things after he fumbled his books. The one who sat at the library studying alone only to be harassed by a group of random students with apparently nothing better to do.

What happened to him was pretty fucked up. He didn’t deserve that.

But of course, neither did you. 

Who is he now?

He’s older, maybe wiser, but ... what could you expect from him?

He’s been to the restaurant many times, and was never stand offish, or fearful... not to mention his appearance. He was practically unrecognizable as your old classmate.

But... he was still warm. Still sweet. Still brilliant.

It was just so strange seeing him again. Being in contact with him again. And it seemed that you’d spoken more in these few months than you had the entire time you were acquainted with him during college.

Choso: I just want to do right by you.

You: ... I gtg for now Choso. Ttyl ok?

Choso: Ok.

↞ ··· ↠

You were already tired by the time you went back to work the next day. You suspect it was mental exhaustion. You had talked to a few kids at the Center earlier in the day, and they had actually lifted your spirits, but you couldn’t help how difficult it felt to just get back to normal.

After a few hours there, you had finally made it to the restaurant, walking in through the back door, just in time to pick up a full section of four tables.

“I’m sorry about this,” Shoko apologized as you were wrapping your apron around your waist. “Mahito is an asshole. He talked to the customers at the door and sat them all at your tables even though we told him you weren’t here yet.”

“Ugh! What the hell is his problem?” You griped.

“I wish we knew,” Yuki answers, “Don’t worry though, we got all of their drink orders. We’ll just transfer all of the checks to you when you’re ready.”

“Oh, I have the best friends everrrrr! Thank you!” You gave them a grateful look and smiled softly as you grabbed a checkbook from her.

“You’d better remember that when it’s time to pool tips,” Yuki quipped.

“Ha,” Shoko laughed, eyeing you playfully, “For real.”

“Oh don’t worry I won’t forget!” You called out as you rushed toward the front. You were already a little tired from having worked that morning, but your second wind was coming on.

You check yourself in the mirror in the doorway to be sure you’re straight before you head to your section, scraping any lint from your crisp uniform and apron. You saunter over to your section, and...lo and behold.

A familiar face sitting at your corner window table.

He was breaking his routine.

He had just been there a few days ago and wasn’t scheduled for at least until the rest of the week was over.

Yuki walks by you, raising her eyebrows as she heads to her tables and mouths, telling you with her eyes as well, “Talk to him.”

Neither of your friends had bothered mentioning that he was there.

 You quickly cut your eyes at her before you approach him, your smile fading as you drew closer. “Ahem ...” You clear your throat as his head is buried in his laptop. He was wearing all black today, relaxed and casual with black combat boots and a hoodie, hair down, looking particularly ravishing.

“What can I get you tonight?”

“I don’t need anything else but this right now,” he says as he nods toward his Hennessy, his dark locks falling over his face, quickly swiped behind his ear as he stares up at you.

“Okay,” you reply, turning away. “I’ll be back in a few min–”

“Except...” he grabs your arm to stop you, “you can tell me what I can do for you.”

“Um...” you laugh nervously as you look down at his strong hand wrapped completely around your tiny wrist. “Choso... come on... I’m a little busy right now.”

“Okay, okay. I know. But if you’d just tell me real quick, I’ll be cool,” he says, taking a sip of his drink, using his free hand, his eyes raking over your form.

“We’re ready to order,” another table calls over to you.

You glance over to them before turning back to Choso. “I have to go...” 

“Alright,” he says, slowly releasing your arm, causing your hand to slide through his, his fingers tracing your palm as you pull away.

Choso sat there. All night. Just as he had the last time he was there.

Ironically, his presence made your night easier, considering you didn’t get other customers sat in that spot.

You were finished with work by 9:30, feeling completely drained as you cashed out. You walked toward the front to leave, only to see Choso sitting at a table close to the door, waiting.

Your stride slowed as you approached, “You know you could just text me, right?” You mumbled.

“Obviously. But why, when I can see you in person?” He stood up from the chair, causing you to look up at him as he slipped the strap of his bag over his shoulder, both of you, just standing there for a moment.

“Come to my house. Have dinner with me.” He paused, “I just wanna... talk,” he gazed down at you through his darkened eyes, taking in your form and your sweet face as his eyes landed on your lips.

“It’s late,” you sighed, averting your gaze down to the floor as you tried to hide the heat rising in your cheeks from his intense stare, “And I’m tired.”

“This weekend, when you’re off,” he suggests.

You took a deep breath, figuring you may as well hear him out. You nod once and exhale slowly, “Okay.”

Choso nods, towering over you, savoring your presence one last time with a hint of satisfaction on his face. “Cool. Friday night then,” he says, his smile warming your heart as he disappears through the double doors.

“That looked like a positive interaction,” Shoko jokes as she heads toward the front door to take you home.

“Well, we’ll see about that. I have no idea what to expect from him honestly. Besides more apologies,” you laugh a little, making light of the situation.

“That’s a start, right? I mean, he’s been on your ass for months now,” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. He’s definitely persistent. I’ll give him that,” you mumble, watching him through the windows as he hops in his car and pulls off.

Shoko chuckles at you, an unlit fresh cigarette between her lips, “Alright. let’s go.”

↞ ··· ↠

Choso picked you up in his deep green Rivian. As he opened the door for you, he had to help you to hop up inside. Another pleasing aroma, cedarwood, perhaps?, filled the space of the ride, the lights softly illuminating the interior against the dark of the night, the soft music adding a sweet touch to the atmosphere.

After you’d settled into your seat, he closes your door and walks around to his side and climbs in, looking as amazing as always, his glasses tucked  in a black henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and gray sweatpants.

His hair was down, his tattoo peeking out from under the sleeve of his right arm, his muscles flexing as you watched him shift the truck’s gears. The way he lit up your insides, you’d definitely call him hot. But, you remembered, that wasn’t always so.

However, he was always sweet, making his sexiness even more attractive now.

You tried keeping your eyes on the road, stealing glances at him every so often as he took control of the car, and of where you were going. There seemed to be a sense of comfort and relaxation that came with that, which you loved.

You glanced down at his legs as they stretched out underneath the dash, one knee waving back and forth as he kept his right hand on the wheel, the other pressed against his pretty lips, his focus straight ahead.

If only things weren’t so complicated.

You arrived at his home, and as you walked into the beautiful foyer, you could already smell some of the food he’d begun to prepare.  

“Dinner will be ready in a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Thanks” you replied, following him through the main room to his grey quartz island as you sat on the opposite side, observing him closely while he made his way around his kitchen. 

As beautiful and strong as he was, Choso had a grace about him that was almost mesmerizing. Every movement, intentional. Every intention, deliberate. He lifted each vegetable up to take in it’s aroma before cutting, as if the fragrance was the final quality assurance test it was required to pass before use. 

His tendons flexed clearly against his muscles as he carefully chopped each one, their juices barely spilling onto the cutting board by way of his razor sharp knife. Choso calculated every motion, and savored every moment as he moved, as if the journey toward the end of his process was equally as pleasing as the reward he would receive for the final result.

He served the plates on the corner of the island, as he sat across from you. “Enjoy.” he prompted.

He’d prepared a perfect Kobe steak, medium rare, with seasonal veggies and truffle mac and cheese. And boy, was it divine. The steak practically melted in your mouth, seasoned perfectly with herbs, the veggies were crisp and fresh as if he’d picked them himself, and the mac and cheese was decadent and rich. 

“That was ... so good.” you raved, one eyebrow hiked up. “Did your mother influence your cooking skills also?” You ask him as you finish the last of your drink and set the cup down gently.

He smiles softly, his gaze traveling up to yours, “Yeah. She told me, ‘A man’s gotta know his way around his own home’. I learned plants from her, too.”

“She seems like a wonderful woman,” you reply, the tender look of nostalgia on his face making your heart skip a beat, and his deep voice vibrating you to your core.

“I’m glad you agreed to come,” he murmurs, that beautiful smile peeking again.

“Yet ... I really am still wondering why you invited me,” you tell him, “Choso, I hate to sound too... forward. But...is there something you want from me? I’ve been trying to figure it out, and I just ... can’t.”

He glanced up, locking eyes with you for just a moment, looking away quickly as if the contact had somehow triggered him. 

“Look... I know I can’t change the past. And I’m actually genuinely happy that ... despite how fucked up everything was back then, we’re in good places in life. I just... I can’t help but feel like I’m indebted to you.”

“Indebted?” You shook your head, rolling your eyes in a huff, upset that he feels so much guilt still, “Choso, I’ll admit. I was shocked when you told me who you are. It really threw me off. I spent a lot of time getting over what went down back then. So yeah, seeing you here, now... it was... debilitating. I don’t know. Maybe I realized I needed something...some kind of closure? But you’ve apologized... for whatever it is you think you’ve done. We can leave it at that.”

He leaned against the island, his body facing in your direction, his eyes studying your face, following your every gesture, his gaze sorrowful. “I really am sorry. I wish you could understand how sorry. I regret not standing up to them on my own to begin with, but I regret even more that I wasn’t there for you.”

You purse your lips for a moment and let out a soft sigh, and he continues.

“It’s crazy how this kinda shit follows you into adulthood. For a long time, I let what they said about me shape who I was. And not being who I wanted to be made it worse. I was fucked up. For many reasons.”

He stood from his chair and walked over to you, and you feel your breath hitch as the distance between you grows shorter. “You don’t know this … because I never told you. But... your presence in my life meant … the world to me.”

You turn the stool and your body toward him, your legs propped up by your feet as you observed his expressions. His sincerity remained at the forefront as he spoke, sparking memories of the sweet guy you were once so kind to.

“You were one of the only people who made me feel like myself. Like someone who mattered. Like who I was meant something. All I want now, is to repay you for what you were for me. I’d like to do the same for you.”

Your heart clenches and you swallow as your brain processes his words.

He stepped closer, “You were always sweet. Always helping. Always kind. Even now. You haven’t changed. After everything that’s happened to you.”

You blink, your eyes glassy as tears cloud them for a moment.

“But...Choso, what have you been doing all this time?” You think aloud, your eyes shrinking into a squint, “You created a great career, a home...why haven’t you put this behind you?”

He shrugged, lips curling downwards a little, “I found out that you’d moved here after I started my practice. My mother had already been planning to move out of this house for a while.” he spoke softly, “I got busy focusing on my work, building this life,” his eyes scanned the room.

“I came here...” he continued, “hoping to be closer to you.”

↞ ··· ↠

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Special thanks to the lovely @ashasdiary for not only beta reading for me, but for her wonderful support and helpful notes that pushed me to take this story to the direction I'm currently so in love with! 🥰😘 .

. Thanks for reading! ✨🩸✨

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M.List | Ch.02 (Coming Soon) ↠

Notes: As always, I welcome any and all critiques, suggestions, and comments regarding my work, since I truly feel all of those may make me a much better writer! I sincerely appreciate you taking the time to read my little stories, and if you'd like to be tagged in releases, don't hesitate to comment below! 😊💖

©cocomanga 2024 | Please do not plagiarize, copy, or distribute my work.

Fanart by: @Arekushisu11 Ombre Caution/DNI & Animated lines: Courtesy of @CafeKitsune Additional dividers by @CocoManga

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[demigodsanswer]

Percabeth + coffee shop au + holiday au?

The holiday part of this is a bit squint and you miss it. I meant for there to be more, but alas.

Percy had wanted to open up a bakery, but a coffee shop that sold pastries seemed more lucrative. In hindsight, he was glad he made that choice. He wasn't sure Annabeth ever would have stepped inside if he only sold apple turnovers and cupcakes.

She came in every morning, dressed like a young professional, her hair back in a ponytail usually, high heels sticking out of her purse, flat shoes on her feet. When she got in line, Percy knew to start making her soy latte extra shot before she even made it to the register. Sometimes he slipped one of their vegan brownies in too, on the house.

(He never asked if she was vegan or if soy milk was just a taste thing, but his ex was lactose intolerant. Last thing he wanted to do was ruin her day.)

"Thanks Percy," she said, grabbing her drink seconds after paying for it. He handed her the brownie, in a clear sleeve with their "vegan" sticker on it. She smiled and accepted it graciously. "You're a hero," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he promised.

So, maybe he had a thing for one of his patrons. It didn't matter that much. She was about his age (probably), and never yelled at his staff. Her seven dollar daily latte was keeping his lights on. And she was maybe the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

"Do you think I should add more vegan options?" He asked Grover. Grover was the lead barista and his business partner. He some how sourced fair trade coffee they could actually afford.

"It's better for the environment," was Grover's response.

"So, yes?" Percy asked.

"Give it a shot. Everyone loves a little vegan treat."

"No, you love a little vegan treat. Most people think they taste like sand," Percy said.

"That's an exaggeration. Your brownie is delicious. And I'm sure whatever you make, Annabeth will love it."

Percy bright red face ended that conversation. "I'm going to to hang the Christmas lights," he said, heading out into the cold without a jacket in the hopes that his face went back to normal.

~

Percy kept the coffee shop opened later than was maybe wise, but he worked most of the late shift hours by himself or with Meg, a high school kid working after school. They always got a few late afternoon coffee drinkers, and a couple of high school kids sitting to do homework.

Percy had to be there anyway. He was working on a few new vegan options. The holiday season was a good time to find out what people liked; they were more likely to treat themselves to something sweet.

He'd worked out a good vegan pumpkin pie, which they sold by the slice. That was a hit, although he was still working to get the crust perfect. The oatmeal cookie had been easy enough. The Nutella banana bread was actually so good that Annabeth ordered it the next morning. Percy made a note to keep it on the menu.

The holiday brought festive drinks too. He needed to compete with Starbucks, so he offered peppermint ... everything, caramel everything, and pumpkin everything. He was hanging a sign in the window advertising their peppermint mocha when he spotted a familiar face on the other side of the glass.

Annabeth smiled at him. It was six at night. They were only open for another hour. And she never stopped by after work. She must have come right from the office, because she still had her heels on.

The bell rang as she opened the door. "Are you still open?" She asked.

"Sure am," Percy confirmed. He would have said yes even if that wasn't true. "Soy latte?"

She shook her head. "No, no. Um, what about that --" she pointed towards the sign, "peppermint mocha?"

"You got it," Percy said, heading back behind the counter. "Soy?"

"Sure."

"I don't have a dairy-free whip cream," he said. He made a note to try and find one. Frank would like it.

"Regular is fine," she said. "I'll treat myself. Decaf though," Annabeth added.

"Are you vegan?" Percy asked as he brewed the espresso.

"I try but fail a lot. I'm pretty good at avoiding meat, but real dairy is just too good," Annabeth said.

"Easier to bake with too," Percy said. "For here or to go?" He had a to-go cup in his hand out of habit, but Annabeth had settled down at one of the open tables.

"Here," she said. Percy made the drink in a large ceramic mug.

"What brings you in tonight?" He asked, as he dropped off the coffee.

He didn't have anything pressing in the back, and there were only two college students diligently working on the other side. He could chat for a while.

As if reading his mind, Annabeth used her foot to push a chair out for him. Percy said down as she took the first sip. She closed her eyes and sighed happily.

"That's so good," she said. Percy was pretty sure he was flushed again. He hoped it went away before she could open her eyes. "It was just one of those long end-of-the-year work days, you know? Everyone rushing to get things done. I wanted something to cheer me up, and I walked by and thought ..." she looked at him in a new, attentive way he'd never caught before. "... a warm drink sounds nice."

"I hope it helped," he said.

"It is," she promised.

"I've got a new vegan cinnamon roll I'm testing. Want to try it?" Percy offered.

"How is it?" She asked.

"Not sure, they're fresh, first round," he said.

"I guess I can help test it for you," Annabeth said with a smile.

Percy jumped up and came back a minute later with one round roll on a plate and two forks.

He tried not to be too creepy as he watched her take a bite, savor it, and then carefully make up her mind.

"It's a little dry," she determined. "The icing is great, and the taste is good, but ..."

Percy took his own bite and nodded. "Too much cinnamon. It dries it out."

"Still pretty delicious," Annabeth said, going for another bite, "especially for not having half the ingredients that make food taste good."

"Thanks!" Percy said with a wide smile. "You know, my co-owner Grover is vegan."

"Oh, is he the motivation for all the new treats?" Annabeth asked.

"Uh, sure," Percy said, barely playing off that she was the real reason, not his best friend of almost twenty years, "but he was telling me about this new vegan restaurant. He says it's pretty good."

Annabeth was smiling, and she had a mischievous look in her eyes that told him she was six steps ahead of him.

"Oh?" She said innocently, going for another bite of the cinnamon roll, but not actually putting the fork in her mouth yet. "Have you tried it?" She asked, finally taking a bite.

"No, I was wondering if you'd maybe want to go with me? If you're not too busy?" He hadn't planned to ask her out today. He was thinking of maybe doing something corny and easy to ignore, like writing his phone number on her to-go cup. But he was in it now.

"I'd love to," she promised. Annabeth reached into her bag and pulled out a business card, and then shook her head. "Is this horribly impersonal and --?"

"It's alright," Percy said, "as long as I don't have to fax you the date information." There was a fax number on the card.

"Please don't, it's a communal machine," she said, "and older than I am."

"Alright, I won't," Percy promised. He didn't have a business card of his own, just ones with the coffee shop's information. So instead he did what most modern people did: he texted the cell number on her business card with a simple hey it's percy and a coffee cup emoji.

Annabeth smiled and took a second to save the number.

"So," she said, picking up her still-full drink. "Why did you start making vegan pastries?"

She had that I'm way ahead of you look in her eyes again. Percy swallowed hard.

"Um ..."

[mamamittens]

The Doctor Will See You Now (+18)

This is part 8/12 of December Event 2023 for @akagami-no-laney

Hongo X Fem!Secretary!Reader

Warnings: Medical play kink, possible glove kink?, sex on an exam table (with stirrups), sex in the workplace, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, lowkey roleplay, and possibly inappropriate workplace relationship. No wait, yeah, you're his secretary, so you fuck your boss. Mildly dubious consent but it's pretty clear that this is wanted on both ends without fear of reprimand.

Word Count: 2,906

There was a palpable sense of relief as you locked the front office doors after the last patient of the year. You loved your job as Doctor Hongo’s secretary for his private practice, but the holiday was well deserved at this point. It had been a rough season, and you weren’t even the one seeing all the patients. But you did organize every session, test, correspondence, and other such noteworthy things for the practice. Of which there had been a lot.

A whole fucking lot.

He was well loved in the community and you could see why. He was very good at what he did, had a wonderful bedside manner, and was very easy on the eyes. Even his cliché lab coat couldn’t hide the broad frame and thick muscles that allowed him to move his patients or support them physically with ease. While it was annoying scheduling appointments for lonely housewives inquiring about ‘private home visits’, you’d be lying if you said the prospect held no appeal. Of course, you were more professional than to forward such enquiries on anyone’s behalf.

You turned back to regard the front office. It was lightly decorated for the season, a Christmas tree set up in the corner with donation tags for local charities, garland strung across the front desk, and a holiday special playing on the television in the corner. All of this would be removed and put away after the New Year first thing, but for now it was to stay. The other staff members eager to leave.

So now, it was only Doctor Hongo in his office and yourself. Technically, you could leave right now. He certainly wouldn’t mind it. But your perpetual soft spot guided your feet anyway. Past the exam rooms and offices of your colleagues. Most already tidied up—though someone forgot to clean a few of the exam rooms before the left.

He stood over his desk, back to you as he leafed through his papers. Patient files, perhaps. Ensuring all his tests were sent out and results organized. They should be already, you’d been responsible for organizing them once a week to ensure his appointments ran smoothly as part of your contract and NDAs. But he was a meticulous sort of man. Long blond strand of hair curling around his ear loosely, absently tucked into place when it fell from his bun.

From this angle, you could see the sharp line of his jaw where stubble began to form. The edge of his cheekbone and curve of his nose catching the sterile light. He hadn’t seen you yet, which was a good thing. It wouldn’t be professional to be caught staring at your boss like he’s a marble statue you weren’t allowed to touch. And damn, how your fingers ached to stroke up the back of his shoulders to his neck and hairline. He looked like he’d be warm but hard to the touch and you might just die happy if you ever got to know just how firm his arms were.

You spotted the moment he sensed you in the doorway and quickly redirected your expression to something less scandalous than open want. Instead gazing at him warmly as an old friend.

“Hey there, doctor. Need any help with anything before I go?” You asked softly, feeling strangely small in the abnormally quiet office. There wasn’t even any music playing. Just the light ruffle of papers in his hands and clothes shifting over his broad shoulders as he breathed evenly. Doctor Hongo smiled, almost shaking his head. “I noticed a few exam rooms weren’t tidied up yet. I can at least wipe them down before I go.”

He clicked his tongue, looking faintly annoyed.

“The nurses were supposed to do that before they left…” He sighed, shaking his head. “C’mon, let’s get this place cleaned up and then we can officially start our holiday.” Doctor Hongo smiled, placing his hand gently on your back and guiding you to the exam rooms. Closing and shutting off the lights in each one he passed by.

When he spotted the first one not cleaned up, he let you lead and started wiping down the counters as you handled the table.

“…So, have any plans?” Ah.

Subtle.

That’s not inappropriate to ask, is it? Shouldn’t be, surely?

He looked back at you as he poured more cotton balls into the jar with a smile, dark eyes bright and lively despite the less than flattering light.

“Oh, not really. What about yourself? Any plans with friends or a Christmas date?” He startled when he realized he poured too many, cursing softly as he scooped up the excess and tossed them. Then he went back to refilling the other supply jars with a strange tension in his shoulders.

“Nope. Solo this year I’m afraid. Just me, a bottle of wine, and maybe a few Christmas specials.” You laughed and he looked back at you in surprise.

“Really? I was sure you’d have something planned. You’re a hell of a catch after all… well, their loss, I suppose!” He declared with a grin before gesturing you to follow him out of the room, turning off the lights after you and closing the door.

You were a bit thrown by that response and could only follow him wordlessly until he hit the next room that hadn’t been cleaned properly.

“T-Thanks…” You mumbled a tad breathlessly as you went through the motions of wiping down the leather exam table.

There was a pause before a wave of heat washed over your back.

“Do you not believe me?” Doctor Hongo’s words drifted across the back of your neck and you jolted. “Perhaps I could show you?” he breathed softly but didn’t touch you despite being so tantalizingly close.

“D-Doctor--!” You couldn’t help but stammer nervously, looking back to see him gazing down at you intensely with a faint smile.

“Only if you wish it… only if you want me.” Hongo leaned in closer, his hands resting on the leather. You struggled to remember how to breathe, let alone speak. His dark eyes cutting through your thoughts as heat pooled inside you. “You seem at a loss for words… do you need a doctor?” He grinned mischievously and you choked.

“D-D—” You swallowed hard. “D-Doctor… a-are you…?” you couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t even dream of implying what was almost certainly happening.

Hongo—Doctor Hongo!—hummed thoughtfully, his hands brushing over your cheeks. Fingertips resting over your pulse as he measured the rapid beat of your heart.

“You seem stressed. Common this time of year… perhaps you should take a seat on the exam table?” Hongo leaned back and gave you space.

Noticeably, he left open a generous gap to leave. His expression almost coy but understanding. Interested but unwilling to push.

Out of all his attractive qualities, of which he had many, his integrity is what drew you in the most. More than anything else, though make no mistake, those other qualities were just as attractive.

If you didn’t want to pursue this, he’d happily let you leave and likely not mention it beyond an apology fruit basket for the presumption. But…

But.

If you did—damn how much you did despite words failing you—then he’d gladly keep up this cute game.

And fuck you wanted to play.

Carefully, you turned to face him fully, face hot as you smiled and lifted yourself onto the exam table. His smile was dazzling as he spun on his heel and plucked two gloves from the mounted rack.

“Well! Let’s get to the bottom of this then, shall we?” Hongo purred, snapping his gloves in place before gently adjusting you to lay down. Without looking, he moved the table into a position close to a reclining chair, his hand pressing over your sternum briefly. Gloved fingers rubbing over your neck teasingly, just a little to lingering in their touch to be clinical. “Your heart rate is quite healthy. Lymph nodes are good. Your throat?”

Hongo leaned in, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks as he kissed you. Lips soft and warm over yours. Parting gently as your eyes slid shut, his tongue tracing the fragile seam of your lips. Slipping in deeper as you moaned, your hands clutching his shoulders as peppermint flooded your mouth. Eagerly, he pressed deeper. Like he intended on inspecting your throat intimately. His hands trailing down to the hem of your sweater. Rubber grazing your skin as he rubbed up to your breasts. Pushing up your bra to tease your nipples. Happily drinking up your whines as you squirmed.

Your heart raced as you tried not to moan, but it was futile. His touch, even through gloves, was electrifying. His kiss all consuming. If it wasn’t the crackle of paper and leather underneath you, you would have forgotten where you were. You keened as he pinched and pulled at your breasts with a pleased groan. Pinning your thighs open with his body, hips gently grinding into your skirt, pushing the fabric up higher with every needy pass.

When he finally relinquished your lips, you gasped for air. Panting as your body shook. His eyes hungry for more.

“Doctor! Aaahn~!” You whined as he pushed up your sweater and exposed your sensitive breasts to the cold air.

“Hmmm… your breasts look lovely. Nothing amiss here, though perhaps I should take a closer look just in case?” Hongo mused playfully as he leaned in and took the hard nipple into his mouth. Toying with it between his tongue and teeth. Your heart raced hard in your chest as you failed to hold in your moans, hands gripping the collar of his coat. Yanking when he nipped and blew the damp skin with a frantic shudder. “Your reactions are amazing. Should have done this a lot sooner, could have had you on my table months ago… but there’s still one more place to check before I give you a clean bill of health, isn’t there?” Hongo asked with a grin, pulling away from you.

You couldn’t help the low whine as his heat left you. His hands pulling out something at the edge of the exam table. You rubbed your thighs together to take the edge off your growing arousal, mortified at how wet you were. But not as mortified when he finished pulling out the stirrups and your whole cunt throbbed at the promise.

Hongo pulled off your shoes and lifted up your thighs, settling your knees on the padded stirrups, heels resting on pedals after a minor adjustment. His face was almost obscured by your pencil skirt, but his eyes cut over the taut fabric with a silent question. His hot hands hovering over your hips.

“P-Please doctor!” You moaned, nearly gasping when his hands settled under your skirt. Pushing the fabric up until it no longer threatened to tear between your spread thighs. Palms rubbing your hips before slightly adjusting you up higher into a more comfortable position. Fingers trailing over your stockings to over your panties, teasing the seam where the two halves met. He looked enthralled at the slick slide of fabric against your pussy. Pressing easily between your folds through the fabric.

“Seems to be a healthy amount of arousal. But I think you’d benefit from an even closer inspection.” Hongo purred, ripping your stockings down the middle and your panties as well. “Oh, what a beautiful sight~” His hot breath washed over your cunt as he spread out your folds eagerly. His tongue quick to lap at your clit as you gasped.

You fell back against the leather padding, paper ripping in your hands you as you writhed. His gloved fingers slipping into your body as he probed your quivering walls. Tongue delving between your folds as you dripped under his attentions. He was thorough and hungry for your reactions. Diving into your cunt like he was starved, one free hand pressing your belly down to keep you still for him. His fingertips abusing every sensitive spot he found, searching for the one that made you want to scream.

And when he did find it, he pressed hard, grinding into that spot while panting praises into your pussy.

“I’ve been wanting to taste this for months.”

“Let me hear everything~”

“That’s right, just like that~ You need this so bad, I can tell~”

“Cum for me, just let it all go~ give it to me, baby~” You shuddered, clenching down on his hand as your thighs fought against the stirrups to slam shut to no avail.

“D-DOCTOR! A-Aaahh! O-Ohhh~! D-Doctor~!” You wailed, receiving only a hearty chuckle, his fingers now gently massaging your g-spot as you came down from your intense high. His lips pressed over your clit with soft licks over your drooling cunt.

He hummed after a long moment. Slowly withdrawing his hand and standing up, pulling off his gloves with a satisfied look.

“As I suspected.” Hongo declared with a grin, lips wet as he licked them. “You need an emergency treatment, immediately. Are you ready?” He asked gently, pointedly grabbing his belt.

Your heart stuttered as you nodded.

“Yes! Y-Yes, D-Doctor Hongo!” You cried out and he smiled, immediately shoving his pants down enough to free his cock. You didn’t get the opportunity to look before he pressed in close. Bracing one hand on your waist as he guided the tip to your folds. Brushing it between them, smearing your cum around before gently pressing in.

You shuddered as his thick cock spread you open, throbbing inside you with every inch gained. You struggled to breathe, gasping as he pressed forward, rocking back whenever your arousal started to run too thin for a seamless glide. Almost taunting you as he slowly hilted. Your body felt hot as he finally settled against your thighs as deep as he could go. Your pussy struggling around his length as he rocked against you. The small bit you couldn’t take sliding in and making you whine, your pussy pressing against his base briefly before he pulled back with a smirk.

“W-What a wonderful woman you are. Taking my cock so well. A-Anytime you need this, say the word. Anywhere. I’d happily bend my cute secretary over my desk anytime she wants. You make such cute noises though, I might have to gag you…” Hongo panted, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into place as you wailed. “But not tonight. You can cry out all you like tonight. Just for me. T-That’s it, just like that for me, baby~” Hongo groaned as he set a harsh pace. Driving the air from your lungs as you grew louder. Body tensing as he drove you closer to the edge again, cock pulsing inside you as sweat dripped down his face.

The room filled with the squeak of leather, paper ripping beneath you, your wet cunt being fucked open, and your loud cries. Words slurred past recognition as you wailed desperately beneath him. Affirmation or begging, you weren’t sure.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Special lunch under my desk, heh, not a bad idea. Maybe we can give it a try before we leave, I don’t think you’ll be able to walk for a while when I’m through with you. Will you?” Hongo panted hungrily as you struggled to figure out if you should shake your head for your quivering thighs or nod for the scandalous image of you kneeling under his desk. “Hmmm, what a good girl you are. Couldn’t ask for a better secretary~ Are you getting close? I think you are, I can feel you throttling my cock~! Well, don’t hold back. I want it all.” Hongo encouraged, fucking you into the table harder and faster.

You snapped, throat burning as you screamed, stirrups groaning as you seized beneath him. Squirting hard against his cock and balls. Hongo grunting in surprise as he fucked you that much harder, cursing under his breath. You whined when he suddenly pulled out, his fist slapping into his hips wetly as he spurted over your open thighs and cunt. Hot cum spraying onto your still quivering pussy with a deep, satisfied groan.

“H-Hongo…” You panted, collapsing against the exam table totally wrung out. He chuckled, kissing your knee as he also caught his breath.

“S-Shit, I got a little carried away there… do you want to take this back to my place?” Hongo asked softly. You swallowed hard and smiled back at him.

“I think I’ll need help walking…” You admitted and he laughed.

“Well, as a doctor, I think I can help with that~” Hongo preened. “Can’t think of a better way to spend the holiday.”

“Aren’t you supposed to not work on the holiday?” You asked faintly, struggling to remove your legs from the stirrups.

Hongo laughed.

“As if this could ever be called work! Besides, all you need is some good old-fashioned bedrest.” Hongo waggled his eyebrows.

“Yeah?” You smiled. “How much rest is involved in that?” Hongo pretended to consider the question as he lifted your legs up for you.

“Less than your actual doctor would recommend, I imagine.” He admitted with a wicked smile.

“I think…” You began softly, face hot, “I’d like to really disobey the doctor’s orders in this case.”

Hongo lit up with a bright smile.

“Well, they do say you should always get a second opinion!”

[forevfangirlwrites]

Can you do ”Annabeth passes out on a zipline course and Zipline Staff Percy rescues her”??

“Tfis is so gwood!” Piper mumbles, shoving noodles into her mouth. Beside her, Thalia is doing the same, without expending the energy to compliment the food.

“Your choice was spot-on, Annabeth,” Piper continues, having swallowed her bite. Girl’s night had begun late due to traffic, which had left all of them starving by the time the food had arrived.

Annabeth nods, moving her takeout box closer to her. “I’ve been craving Asian food ever since that Youtube video I told you about.”

“What does your fortune say?” Thalia asks, speaking up for the first time as she breaks open the wrapping.

“We’re not there yet, Thalia,” Piper replies, shaking her head. Annabeth glances towards Thalia’s takeout box and, sure enough, it’s already empty.

“You guys need to eat faster,” she retorts, stuffing the cookie in her mouth. “You awe the dwivea of r own wife.”

“What?”

Piper takes the fortune from her hand and reads it out. “You are the driver of your own life…what does that mean?”

“I think it’s making fun of my commute,” Thalia comments, having finished chewing.

“I think you might be right,” Annabeth replies, reaching for a fortune cookie. Thalia had recently started a new job at a music store further out of the city.

“What does yours say?” Piper asks, nodding to Annabeth’s now opened fortune cookie.

“Try something new.”

“Are these even fortunes?” Thalia asks. Annabeth shrugs, still thinking about the words on her fortune. It wasn’t a bad idea to try something new…maybe she should do it.

“What new thing can I do?” she muses out loud. “I feel like I’ve done a lot of the things around here…”

“Well…” Thalia starts and Annabeth can see the gears turning in her mind as she continues, “there is a zipline adventure place near my work, pretty sure you’ve never done that before.”

“Ziplining? Annabeth? She doesn’t like heights, remember,” Piper says.

“It is true, I don’t like heights…” Annabeth trails off.

“Isn’t that the point of the fortune though? Try something new, come on!”

It’s clear Thalia is set on her point and Annabeth sighs. High risk, high reward, right? Or something like that.

“Okay…”

-.-

A few days later, Annabeth shows up to Thalia’s job right before the end of her friend’s shift. Reyna’s Records is one of those places that looks out of time in the best possible way. She’d thought so the first time she’d seen it when she’d dropped Thalia off for the interview,  and walking in now just confirms it further.

“Ready?” Thalia asks, exiting from behind the counter as soon as Annabeth steps inside.

She looks at her friend past the row of vinyls. “No.”

“Ready for what?” A woman with long braided black hair walks out of the back. Annabeth has the feeling that this must be Reyna herself.

“Zipline Adventure next door,” Thalia replies.

Reyna, Annabeth confirms by her nametag, smiles. “Ah, I’ve been meaning to check it out. It’s new, let me know how it is.”

“Will do!”

As the two exit the store and face the cold winter wind, Annabeth turns to Thalia with a grin.

“Reyna’s pretty.”

“So?”

Thalia would say it’s the cold wind, Annabeth would say it’s a blush. Annabeth smiles.

“Nothing, just thought I’d mention it,” she replies as innocently as possible, even though Thalia is narrowing her eyes at her.

Whatever Thalia would have retorted with is unsaid as the two stop in front of the doors to Zipline Adventure, an uncreative but apt name for the place.

An assortment of ropes, air bridges, and lines running across the huge room are the first things she sees through the glass panel as they step inside the entryway. She spies part of a rock wall to one side and employees in black shirts tagged with STAFF on the back are milling around.

It’s not very crowded—the upside to coming on a Wednesday afternoon, she thinks.

“Let’s go,” Thalia interrupts her thoughts by holding out two bright yellow wristbands in front of her face.

Well, that was quick. They help each other with the wristbands then step through a door to enter the zipline adventure. Too late to back out now.

Thalia walks them over to the beginning of one of the courses. “The girl at the desk said this one is good for beginners.”

Annabeth looks up at the plank bridge suspended from the ceiling, rope bridge, and zipline, and thinks that it doesn’t look very beginner friendly. She once again scans the room for the people who will be seeing her struggle.

Her gaze locks on a very attractive employee, who’s walking over to them.

KEEP READING ON AO3

A/N: Thank you for the prompt! Sorry it took so long for me to get to it but I hope you liked how it turned out! It isn’t exactly what you said but I did put a spin on it! Thanks again!

[pinkhairedlily]

day 1/12 of maligAYAng pasko (christmas snippets) prompt: coffeehouse, sasusaku by @nabissante

“Iced americano, grande, for here.”

Her name’s Sakura, one of their cafe’s afternoon regulars. She’s easy to spot and remember with her pink hair and emerald eyes and her books that change cover every week. Other staff would have fought for this shift; these are the dead hours after all, when students are stuck in classes and office employees are in their cubicles. Silent, patient service for people with no time commitments.

That leaves him the indulgence of soaking in her presence on the corner table by the window. Too preoccupied in following the worlds in the pages to notice that her coffee has gone cold so he always offers to make them iced. They are nothing more than nods and gestures and good-afternoons and please-come-again.

She arrives between 1 and 2 PM and leaves exactly at 5 before the evening crowd drowns the line.

On this certain summer when the heat wave reached a new peak, she was late.

 2:30 PM. No walking cherry blossom on sight.

2:48 PM. Maybe she’s sick.

3:01 PM. She might have other important appointments.

3:27. She enters the cafe looking like summer itself with her yellow sundress and espadrilles, but her usually calm face contorts in thinly veiled annoyance from the person trailing behind her. 

They look like a mismatched couple of all sorts. Sakura heads to her designated spot but the businessman with his fancy envelope bag prefers to sit near the counter.

Sasuke doesn’t know what kind of urge comes over him, but he heads beside the source of Sakura’s affliction and places a ‘reserved’ sign on the surface he tapped a while ago. “This is taken, Sir. May I suggest the corner table by the window? The views of Hanami Park around this time are still beautiful.”

Behind the struggling businessman, Sakura peaks out and directs a smile at him. ‘Thank you.’

The meeting — or whatever that is — finishes in 10 minutes. Relief is plainly visible on her face when the stiff businessman exits the door. 

“May I get your order?”

“I already ordered one.” She points to the still-full, now-lukewarm americano in front of her and grimaces.

“So?”

“An affogato. I need something sweet.”

“Coming right up.”

“Thanks, Sasuke-kun.”

Maybe it’s the way she calls his name that makes him turn on his feels, his mouth agape. She is ready for the question he is yet to ask; her hand gestures to an invisible nametag on the upper left side of her chest.

“Ah.” It’s foolish to think there’s any other reason.

The following week, it’s someone more gentlemanly, could have easily passed off as noble or royalty, and Sakura feigns interest until the point where he starts caressing her hands. Hot cappuccino injures him, but it’s the dark stain on his crisp suit that angers him.

This is Sasuke’s first customer complaint, but it never gets written when you have a charming Sakura appeasing the pseudo-gentleman’s ego.

She couldn’t stop laughing when she finally had the table alone.

Sasuke deftly replaces her americano with affogato. “Just the way you like it.” 

The week after that, an avid car racer. Not hard to identify when he sports an F1 jacket while it’s almost 30 degrees outside. The facade breaks when Sasuke brings over a coffee table book on vintage cars (sure it’s just lying around somewhere), and the racer fails to read the captions.

“So you like vintage cars?” she asks over the dollop of ice cream on top of her lips.

“I don’t know a thing.” He crosses his arms and straightens his posture. “But I can read.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

“Oh shush. Scarlett is only human.”

Thirty minutes or more of mundane conversations of anything from books to customers to weirdest orders bookmarked Sasuke’s afternoon encounters with her. They border seamlessly on casual talk, never drifting on the personal, and this, he thinks, is the line that will forever bind them as strangers.

But that’s all right.

He likes talking to her. This much is good.

It becomes clear to Sasuke that it’s a ploy of Sakura’s machinations. Bad customer service drives away bad marriage prospects. The string of dates finally ends right before autumn with a four-eyed gamer who is more intent on convincing Sakura to shift to kindle and abandon paperbacks.

Of course, it’s a no. On both fronts.

“Do you like your work?”

Clients normally ask this, right? “Inasmuch as the pay lets me live.” Sasuke wonders if she’ll follow it up with a deeper probe, but she shifts, and so he buries the news. 

Why would he even tell her something so life-altering?

xxx

Her sundresses give way to knitted wear, and affogatos turn to hot lattes with a dash of cinnamon. It would surprise her, but Sasuke departs the counter to another staff. Since then, coffee has never tasted the same.

As the branches bare their leaves for snow, the cafe gets fuller. Sakura considers leaving early to give way for new customers. Her time spent inside drastically shortened right after his absence. Somehow, reading books on that quaint corner of the building isn’t enough.

She’s bookmarking the same page she is in two hours earlier when someone sits in front of her.

“Oh sorry, I’ll be leaving in a jiff,” she says without looking.

“Sakura.”

It’s her favorite barista. Dark hair tucked inside a bonnet. An affogato and hot americano in both hands. Tomato nose from the cold. And a book trapped in his chin.

“Sasuke-kun?”

“You’re on your way?”

Sakura settles back in, confused for a moment, but definitely torn between misplaced anger and …yearning. “No, not really. If you don’t mind.”

“How are you?” He slides the affogato to her side as he takes in his first sip.

“Where were you?” She doubles and then quickly recovers, “How are you, I mean?”

“I was busy opening a new cafe.” He looks fulfilled at his declaration.

“Oh wow. That’s big news. Congratulations!” She attempts an enthusiastic clap, but it sounds flat even to her own ears. His sudden appearance is overwhelming for her who got so used to it in the past few months to the point that she falls asleep to the rewind of their conversations in her head.

“I also wanted to prepare before dating someone.”

Did she hear that right?

Dating.

Could he even see how that affects her? Gut punch after gut punch for a thing she couldn’t quite name yet — didn’t want to name yet. 

Sakura was so intent on not getting married. Even had him looped in her plans to foil every blind date and in turn she was rewarded with this irrational fixation towards him.

“Oh, look at you. I hope it goes well.”

“I hope it does, but I don’t think it will.” He takes another sip, calm in his composure. “You see, I just gave her an affogato I brewed myself, but she’s not interested in drinking it.”

“That’s a pity —” She stands up in realization. “Huh?”

“I’m asking you on a date, Sakura.”

She slumps back to her seat in surrender. “You ghosted me.” Now it’s his turn to look equally dumbfounded.

“What? You weren’t interested.”

“Why would I endure long conversations with you when I cannot even stand 10-minute ones with those guys?”

“Because I’m your server?”

“Shut up.” Sakura laughs. “So are you taking me to dinner?”

“Yeah. I had to drink two americanos, but I think they only made me more nervous.”

[arjaandsimoni]

Outsourcing

Castle Fullmoon

Franklin observed the reports on his desk with annoyance. Both teams he sent to India had failed, Jacob’s team had reported back that their mission had failed and they were returning to the castle, the other one had missed their check in and were presumed dead… whats more the reports he received out of India were troubling… Arja was not simply some street girl, but the daughter of one of the noble houses of Jaipur, and Rajesh had been on one of India’s news networks making a statement.

“I do not know why these foreigners have targeted my family, but I am taking measures to protect them and the citizens of Jaipur. Our police force has been informed to keep watch for these men and to detain any unknown foreigners in the city for questioning. While I understand this will greatly inconvenience any tourists visiting our city and do apologize to them for this, the only information we have at this time is that these men seem to be of European descent and armed with weaponry both modern and archaic. I have full confidence in Jaipur’s police force to have this matter resolved and our city safe again in short order. I merely regret that such measures must be taken to stop these attacks.” he had said.

Franklin’s plan had hit a major stumbling block. Clan Fullmoon was almost exclusively Irish. There were a few outliers who had taken partners from Scotland, England, and abroad, but even then the average Fullmoon man stood out like a sore thumb in any Indian city and with Rajesh’s influence over Jaipur’s police force the movements of his men would be restricted.

He had hoped a lightning strike would cut the head off his problem swiftly, Arja and his granddaughter had been alone after all. Now, however, the warlock Nelen had joined them, along with his bizarre companion.

He scowled as he sat at his desk in his office in the top floor of the castle, drumming his fingers on the table. He had considered the Wulfshead, Clan Fullmoon had used them in the past, but that wouldn’t work. Nelen was a patron there and the club had a standing policy of not accepting any contracts for ANY members in good standing.

He shifted through his papers to a report one of his aides had written him, then smirked. The Wulfshead and his own men were not an option for the present, but a good hunter always had a backup plan.

He picked up his desk phone, then dialed an outside line. One nice thing about humanity, there were always those willing to do dirty work for the right price.

Jaipur, India, late evening

Nelen looked over the map of the city spread out on the coffee table in the rec room, several spots on it circled in red marker.  “Right, so in the event of another Fullmoon attack, its vital that we get a decent idea of their numbers fast. If they’re outnumbered we stand our ground in the city and try to take them down or cripple them enough to where the Jaipur police can arrest them. Rajesh has already introduced me to the captain and they all know me as a member of his staff who specializes in ‘unconventional combat.’ That’s Plan A.” he nodded.

“Plan B, if WE’RE outnumbered we fall back to the jungle and scatter, then head for that temple that Arja took Simoni to. From there the vanara can join in the defense and help us drive them back.” he added, pointing a finger at a circled spot in the jungle where a symbol of a stylized depiction of King Hanuman was drawn.

“Plan C, if we’re separated in the city, is to regroup here as quickly as we can. Its on a mountaintop and we can defend it easy enough, but we can’t really do much else until we know the size of the force we’re fighting against.” he nodded. “Everyone understand?” he asked, looking up… then sighing.

“Uh huh, sure, got it.” nodded Arja, who was playing the new Super Mario Strikers game on her switch.

Simoni was on the floor next to Lupe in her wolf form, who was having the time of her life. She was on her back with a big doggy grin as Simoni squealed and rubbed her through her thick blonde fur, “Eeeee whosa-puppy-puppy-puppy? Whosa-floofy-puppy-puppy?” she giggled excitedly as the werewolf’s tail wagged so fast it was practically a blur.

Natasha chuckled in amusement, just happy that Lupe had someone around who she could be with if she woke in the daytime. The vampire was the only one actually paying attention to Nelen’s planning.

Dawn yawned, the Cheshire curled up atop a nearby bookshelf in her cat form, “Nelen… we get it. You’ve gone over the plans like five times now…” she grumbled sleepily.

Simoni pressed her face into Lupe’s belly and rubbed it frantically back and forth as the werewolf yipped and squirmed, panting away, then looked up at him, “Yeah, Franklin is insane but he’s not stupid. Arja isn’t just some Indian kid, she’s the daughter of a major political figure and now he’s publicly recognized that he’s being attacked on TV. I don’t think even he’s crazy enough to keep trying after that and risk some kind of political thing happening.”

Arja nodded at that, “Mm, yeah, sure.” she replied, focusing on her game.

Nelen frowned around the room. “Guys, this is freaking serious. Clan Fullmoon might not come after us but…” he started… and then suddenly the power went out.

They all cried out in surprise, Arja letting out an angry shriek as her game suddenly ended, and then Lupe began to growl.

“Nelen…” said Natasha slowly, “I can hear several heartbeats moving around outside the house…” she spoke in English rather than Romanian. Nelen couldn’t make her or Lupe ear clips like his own as they had to be crafted from silver and, well, being an undead and a werewolf that would cause issues, but Natasha had lived for six hundred years, plenty of time to master a few extra languages. It helped her kill time during the sixteenth century anyways, which was a bit of a dull point.

Lupe growled, and Simoni eeped and scooted back as she suddenly got up on all fours and grew bigger in the darkness, her eyes shining as she sniffed the air, “… Lupe smell fire-stick…” she growled, “… lots.” she added.

Natasha hissed, “She means guns.” she explained.

“Right… okay… everyone, we’re going to get up very slowly… and move to the walls…” whispered Nelen… “They might know where we are, and if they cut the power it means they care about being seen…” he said, and in the darkness he picked up his bag, reaching inside and taking something small and round out…

The group moved to the sides of the room, and Nelen said, “When I yell ‘eyes,’ everyone close your eyes tight, got it?” he said.

Dawn hissed, “He means it, I know what he’s doing.” she warned.

There was a faint chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘got it’ and ‘rrrf?’ and then they heard it. Several sets of heavy footsteps coming through the house…

And into the room…

… and…

“EYES!” shouted Nelen! There was a cracking sound and the room was suddenly lit up like the sun exploded as several Indian men with large handguns were struck blind by the explosion of light and sound! On the floor a small lizardlike creature writhed and squirmed, emitting enough light to rival an American sport’s stadium’s spotlights!

As the glow faded down into gloom Nelen charged and rugby tackled one of the men into the wall, punching his fist into his face with a sickening crack, then spun and landed his boot in the side of his friend, and Simoni swore she heard something pop when she did. Both men went down and she heard shouting in Hindi, her ear clip translating it in the back of her mind.

“MY EYES! MY FUCKING EYES! SON OF A WHORE!”

“KILL THEM! JUST FIRE DAMMIT!”

“FIRE WHERE?! I CAN’T SE-…” that one was cut off suddenly with a loud crackling sound, then a loud wet sound and the last two men screamed before three more slamming sounds, then a loud thud.

A moment later there was a click and Nelen was holding a lantern standing amid a pile of unconscious men.

They were definitely not cops or Rajesh’s men, they wore teeshirts and jeans, and had tattoos on their arms, one of them had several piercings.

Simoni rubbed her eyes, “Augh! What was that?!” she gasped.

“Salamander egg. Think of it like a magic flashbang.” replied the warlock. Nelen grabbed one of the semiconscious men, turning him around, then held the lantern over his arm as he pointed to a symbol. “Arja, they all have this tattoo, you know what it is?” he asked as Dawn grabbed their guns one after the other, teleporting them onto the roof. They’d retrieve them later.

Simoni stared. She’d done some good work back in Covington with Stephy, but Nelen hadn’t even hesitated. The second they were blinded he had taken them down, and she could see the crimson staining the collars of two men he must have used Merihim to take down. They were all alive, but they were clearly not getting back up again. She thought Nelen was being goofy with his over-planning, but this reminded her that he’d survived being marked for death by Clan Fullmoon for several years now.

Arja nodded, a bit impressed herself, then looked close at it. The tattoo depicted a snake’s head engulfing a burning sphere with its mouth. “… shit… that’s bad. These guys aren’t Fullmoon, they’re gangsters. Rahu’s Fangs.” she nodded, “Rahu is the name of a decapitated serpent who tries to eat the sun, these guys are big in the local opium trade. My dad has been trying to encourage some sort of regulation on it lately, they wouldn’t need much of a push to try to send a message.” she frowned.

“Okay, so they’re mundanes. Good. The we have a solution to them at least.” he nodded.

“Slice their throats and leave them in the jungle?” asked Natasha.

Nelen frowned, “… tie them up and call the cops. They’re criminals, they’re probably wanted anyways.” he sighed, taking some sturdy lengths of rope out of his bag, “Arja gimme a hand, Lupe if one of them tries to run sit on them or something, no biting though. Too many questions if they need medical attention afterwards.” he nodded.

Lupe whined, looking at Natasha. “Do as he says my darling.” she nodded, stroking the werewolf’s head, the girl grinning widely and thumping her tail.

As they finished securing the last one he began to come around. Nelen nodded and knelt down infront of him, then smacked his cheek several times. “Wake up.” he growled.

The gangster blinked, then frowned at him and struggled against his bindings, but didn’t shout or curse. He knew when he was caught.

“You get one chance buddy, why are you here? Those guns my partner took off you looked pretty damn new. Someone give you some extra funding?” he asked.

The man hesitated, and Nelen glanced back at the others. His eyes were on Lupe, and he looked confused and fearful.

Nelen smirked, “Kids. I think we need to show this man what he’s dealing with, everyone stop pretending to be human.” he looked back at their captive.

A moment later the man whimpered in terror as he was confronted with a vanara girl holding a flame in her hand and snarling at him, a girl with green wings and golden bird-legs scratching the ground with her talons, a growling wolf-girl, and a pale skinned girl with glowing red eyes and fangs like a serpent.

Nelen smirked, extending a tendril of Merihim’s substance a few inches from his palm, and letting him watch it sprout jagged fangs all along its length, as a cat appeared on his shoulder.

The cat grinned, far too wide, and narrowed its gleaming yellow eyes. “You came to the wrong neighborhood mothafucka.” she hissed.

The man let out a strangled cry of terror, pissed himself, and blurted out, “THIS FOREIGNER CALLED US AND OFFERED TO SELL US ARMS AND COMMUNICATIONS DEVICES AT A QUARTER THE COST WE WOULD NORMALLY PAY IF WE BROKE INTO BARJAR’S HOME AND KILLED HIS DAUGHTER AND HER FRIENDS!”

Nelen nodded, “That’s what I was afraid of. Now, question number two. Is this all of you, or…” he made Merihim spout a few more bone spines for emphasis.

The man swallowed fearfully, watching the bloody tendril whip back and forth, “N-no… there are three dozen outside…” he replied.

Nelen scowled, “Dammit…” he growled, then grabbed the man and slammed his fist home hard, his head snapped back and he went down like a sack of potatoes. “Rajesh’s guards should have stopped them. They must have taken them down first, assume injured and possibly dead. These people are professional criminals.” he stood up. “We’re outnumbered three to one.” he glared around. “These guys must have been the scouts, the rest are waiting to see if they come back out. We don’t have long before they realize something went wrong. We need to get outside and into the city and make sure they see us going. They could torch the house!”

Arja growled, looking around. “Alright magic man, you’re such a big planner, what do we do?” she asked.

Nelen looked at Dawn, “Catch us if you can?” he asked.

Dawn grinned, her tail swishing, “Catch us if you can.”

A few moments later the only people in the basement were the unconscious gangsters.

‘Catch us if you can.’ Code for ‘spread out into the city and lure them into traps.’

Outside the house

The remaining members of the gang stood in a loose circle outside the building, watching the windows.

“… something is wrong, we should have heard from them by now.” muttered one.

“Yeah… everyone, get ready to move. Barjar thinks he can stop our business, lets show him otherwise.” he grinned, cocking his gun… and then.

“HEY ASSHOLES!” came a cry from behind him.

Arja stood in the driveway near the buildings below. “Looking for me?” she smirked, giving them a very rude gesture, and then bolted into the city.

“That’s Barjar’s daughter! That’s the one they want dead!” he shouted.

“Her? She’s just a kid…” came the voice of another.

“Don’t care, we got our deal and our weapons. Lets fucking use them.” came the voice of a third.

They ran into the streets of Jaipur after them, and a group of them saw Arja running down through an alleyway. “After her!” one of them shouted as he ran into an alleyway… and then there were several loud crashing sounds before they fell out in a heap, covered in bruises.

Simoni grinned, letting out a little whistle as the one ontop of the pile got an extra smack on the head, “That trick never gets old…” she giggled, then they eeped as three more men rounded the corner, guns already drawn.

Arja growled, then shifted into her monkey form and grabbed Simoni around the waist, leaping up and pulling them up onto a nearby building as bullets ricocheted off the brickwork.

“Fuck did you see that?! She’s not human!” came the voice of one.

“Who cares! Shoot the bitch!” shouted another.

Arja rolled behind a chimney and nodded to Simoni, she nodded back, and a minute later they took flight and shot up into the air.

“They can fly too?! What kind of madness did that foreigner get us into?!” shouted one of them.

Dawn grinned from a nearby building, watching them guide them towards Nelen, Natasha, and Lupe, who were all waiting in ambush. As soon as the men rounded the corner Lupe roared and charged, slamming them hard into the building.

“Remember! No lethal force! Take them down and let the cops clean them up!” yelled Nelen as Lupe raised her claws.

The werewolf growled in annoyance, but Natasha nodded to her and she lowered her hand again. “Lupe want hunt…” she muttered.

Simoni giggled, then blinked and looked down… noticing something. “Arja… look…” she warned.

Several more groups of men were heading for the Barjar mansion, and none of them looked friendly… across town an explosion sounded, then another.

Arja growled, “They’re setting off some sort of diversion! The cops will be too busy dealing with evacuating people from those fires to come after them!” she snarled, her tail thrashing behind her.

Simoni nodded, “Yeah, and reinforcements… we need to warn Nelen.” she nodded, swooping down quickly to the ground and transforming as she landed. “Nelen! They’re setting fires on the other side of the city and sending more men! We’re going to get swarmed!” she shouted.

Nelen cursed, “Shit! Right, make for the jungle!” he nodded… then paused as he heard several guns clicking. “SCATTER!” he shouted as the smell of cordite filled the air. They all dove away, Lupe snarling and running infront of Arja and Simoni as Natasha leapt up to the rooftops in a swirl of shadows. "Dammit, we're cut off... The fuck are we gonna do?!” he growled.

Dawn looked around, “There’s too many of them!” she hissed, the feline’s ears twisting as she heard the sound of footsteps approaching in force… then she grinned, “Nelen… I got an idea! Keep ‘em busy!” she nodded, vanishing off his shoulder.

“Easy for you to say cat… Arja! Simoni! We’re gonna have to turtle! Dawn said she might know a way outta this!” he called to them.

Dawn appeared a ways up the road, then shifted from feline to humanoid, looking down at herself and realizing she didn’t have a single stitch of clothing. “Uuuuugh… someone is gonna be weird about this, they always are…” she hissed, then she pressed her hand firmly to the wall and shouted in Lemurian, “OPEN UP, YOU BASTARDS!”

Meanwhile Nelen and the others had retreated to a square in the city. The citizenry seemed to have fled the second the gangsters pulled their guns out, leaving them alone against what looked like every member of the Rahu’s Fangs that they could spare. “Shit… this is not good… after all the crap I’ve fought am I really going to go out to a freaking mundy with a gun?” he muttered, raising his hands.

Arja had dropped all pretense at humanity, snarling and flexing her claws in her monkey form, as Simoni took several deep breaths, ready to call down a hurricane if she needed to… but there were just too many! They couldn’t be sure that someone wouldn’t get shot!

“Nelen… any ideas?” asked the garuda.

He looked down at his hands… “Just one really bad one… but if I do that there WILL be collateral damage, maybe even casualties.” he nodded, “I used it against Isolde because it was JUST her minions and you two kids, but we’re surrounded by people’s homes here! I can’t control Merihim when I do that, he could kill a bystander!” he growled.

Natasha glared about them, “Think of something Nelen… very… quickly…” she warned.

The air was tense. it was a standoff. The word had gotten around that their targets weren’t normal which gave the members of Rahu’s Fangs pause… but they outnumbered them, and all it’d take is one of them being ballsy enough to open fire…

Then, suddenly a voice cried out!

“LOOK OUT BELOW!” came a loud bellow, and a statue of a tiger cast in stone fell from the sky and smashed down onto a group of the gang members!

The group jumped in shock, then Dawn reappeared on Nelen’s shoulders in her animal form. “Hahahaha! BOOM! NICE THROW!” she shouted.

Nelen stared at her, then back at the source of the voice. “Dawn, what the hells did you do?” he asked.

“Weeeeeeeell… I was gonna get Loren, but Shaman said she was out on a job… soooooo…” she grinned, “I went with Plan D.”

Nelen blinked, “Plan… D?” he asked.

Dawn smirked, nodding to Natasha and Lupe’s confusion. “They can’t understand you. That earclip is working too well. We’re not talking in English right now.” she smirked as another crash echoed, the gangsters falling into chaos as they tried to work out who was attacking them.

“Wait…” he listened to his own voice, trying to force himself to recognize the sounds, “… Greek?” he blinked. His earclip was designed to ‘dispel the Curse of Babel,’ basically bestow omnilingualism upon the wearer… but once you got used to understanding everyone you stopped paying attention to what you’d actually heard unless you concentrated on it.

“Plan D.” she grinned, “… for Drusilla.”

There was a loud roar and several gunshots cracked off in rapid succession, then suddenly a group of gang members were stampeded out of a nearby alleyway by a quite literal giant of a woman wearing a purple toga wrap, with only one massive eye on the center of her face. Drusilla the Sicilian cyclops stormed into the square, grabbing one of the gang members who’d become caught in her charge and flinging him into the retreating backs of his allies.

“MONSTERS!” screamed one of them.

“FUCK THE FOREIGNER’S DEAL! ITS NOT WORTH THIS!” yelled another as the gang members scattered into the city.

Drusilla laughed, glaring around her with a wild grin. “Really?! There’s SO many of you and you’re RUNNING? HAH! COWARDS!” she called out to their retreating backs. Of course it was in Greek so they had no idea what she was actually saying, but they didn’t seem to care. They wanted to be wherever the giant one-eyed monster woman wasn’t!

Drusilla turned to Nelen and slammed her hand down on his shoulder, causing the warlock to bend double as the wind was almost knocked out of him. “Good to see you again Many-Scars!” she grinned, “Your cat told me you were in trouble and wanted me to come join the fight, and I owed you guys for saving my tribe so I did! But this is what she meant? A bunch of cowards with little toys?” she snorted.

It was at that point that they realized Drusilla was bleeding from multiple bullet wounds.

“Uh…” started Simoni, pointing to her arm, which was sporting no less than six entry wounds. “Are you… alright?” she asked.

Drusilla looked at her bicep, then snorted, “These? HAH! I get worse stings gathering honey! Those humans were nothing but talk!” she grinned widely.

Simoni blinked, “Wow… jeez… I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone as tough as you…” she muttered, then paused as her own words caught up to her, “Wait… I haven’t! Nelen! This woman can out muscle most of Clan Fullmoon!” she gestured to her.

Nelen raised his eyebrows, looking her over. She was a gigantic woman, pure muscle and clearly a hell of a fighter, “Yeah, son of a bitch she can…” he nodded slowly, a grin spreading across his face, “Hey, um, Drusilla right? How’d you like a job?” he asked.

Drusilla thought on it, tilting her head, “Job? Ehhh, whats in it for me?” she replied.

“Live in a big house with us and probably get in a lot more good fights?” he suggested.

The woman grinned widely, “You promise?” she chuckled, cracking her knuckles.

Dawn grinned, “Ooooooh girl the stories we could TELL.” she cackled.

Arja blinked, “Uh… guys, we gotta ask my dad still…”

Nelen glanced back, “Actually, after we came back with Lupe and Natasha, I had a chat with Rajesh. He put me in charge of recruiting anyone we might find who could help us make sure Clan Fullmoon can’t cause trouble here… and, well… I think the only thing I know more indestructible than her is probably Emet, the golem from the Wulfshead Club.” he nodded.

Drusilla grinned, “Oho, look at the silver tongue on you Many-Scars. If you offer, I accept! My tribe is well again, and I would be glad to stand by strong warriors like you and your monkey friend!” she nodded back, putting her arm around him and looking around, “Now, show me where this ‘big house’ is eh?”

Nelen gasped as he felt his shoulders grind together, the warlock managing to squirm free before nodding, then reaching into his bag. “Uh, one thing first… we can’t really head back unless we look more… human. All of us. Do me a favor and put this on.” he said, handing her a bracelet. It had a quartz carving on it, making out the shape of a man-like figure.

She tilted her head on it, then slid it on… and there was a strange flickering before a tall human woman stood there. Strong looking yes, very muscular, but with two eyes instead of one big one.

Arja blinked, “Woaaaaaaaah… where do you get all these things?” she asked.

“Make ‘em, mostly. That’s just an illusion though, she still has just one eye, it just LOOKS like she doesn’t.” he nodded.

Drusilla blinked, then stomped over to a nearby fountain and gazed into the water. “Huh… neat trick Many-Scars.” she smirked, “Whats wrong? No cyclopti in this place?”

Nelen shrugged, “Well, ONE cyclops now.” he replied, “And, its Nelen.” he nodded.

Drusilla smirked, “Heh, I like Many-Scars better, makes you sound STRONG… but Nelen… may scare humans less.” she shrugged, “If I wish to be polite…” she grinned, “Now then! Back to your ‘big house’ so I can show you what cyclops do after a good fight!”

A few hours later, the Barjar residence

The police had been and gone, and the members of Rahu’s Fangs who hadn’t fled the scene had been taken into police custody, save for the ones that Drusilla had gotten to which had to be airlifted to the hospital. They were likely to survive, but all the talk of giant monsters and such caused the doctors to grow concerned they’d suffered brain damage.

The power had been restored and thankfully there had been no damage save to the locks on the front door, which would easily be repaired tomorrow. Even the guards that the members of the gang had attacked, while injured, were not dead and expected to make a full recovery. “All in all things turned out pretty good.” nodded Simoni as she sat on the couch next to Arja, watching Samrat Prithviraj. For all her tomboyishness, Arja was more than a bit of a history buff, and the movie was a dramatization of the life of the last Hindu king of Delhi.

Natasha nodded, “Mmm… still concerning to know so many of the kine saw us…” she muttered, scratching Lupe behind her ears, the werewolf in her animal form with her head in the vampire’s lap. Kine, the vampire’s word for ‘mortal humans.’

Simoni frowned, “Yeah… I mean the cops might ignore a few of them, but India has to have its hunters too…”

Arja grinned, “Oh don’t worry, our hunter families aren’t coming after us. Vanara are sacred, we’re the bloodline of King Hanuman remember.” she nodded.

Simoni shrugged, “Well, hopefully they don’t spread word to the wrong ears in any case… so where’s Nelen?” she asked, looking around, “Are he and Drusilla still drinking?”

Dawn grinned from atop her bookshelf. “They weren’t drinking.” she said.

Simoni blinked, “Huh? I thought Drusilla was going to show him what she does after a good fight.” she replied.

“Yeaaaaaaaaah, and she diiiiiiiiiid… its why I’m out here.” she laughed, “You guys ever watch Futurama much?” she asked. Dawn had seen a lot of cable TV growing up in various hotel rooms.

Simoni glanced at Arja, then nodded.

“Remember that one episode? The planet of big amazon women?” smirked the Cheshire.

Simoni blinked, thinking, then her eyes went wide… and she made a face, “EWWWWWW!” she squirmed. “Daaaaaawn! Don’t make me think about my brother doing THAT!” she protested.

Natasha just looked confused. “Doing what?” she asked.

Dawn grinned, “Snu-snu.”

Nelen’s room.

The warlock stared up at his ceiling as he lay in bed, wearing only the bandages on his hands and a stunned expression.

Next to him lay Drusilla, covered only by the blanket on his bed, her toga thrown into the corner, as she stretched. “Not bad Many-Scars…” she chuckled, folding her hands behind her head.

Nelen blinked slowly, “… yeah… not bad…” and tried to stay still as he got feeling back into his legs.

A woman who was built like four brick shithouses stacked ontop of each other, who was even more battle-crazy than Loren, and who could not only look at his scars without screaming in horror, throwing up, or running for the door but who actually saw them as a bit of a turn on…

That… was both intriguing and terrifying for a lot of reasons. Thank fuck she’d at least let him explain what a condom was first. He did NOT want to have to worry about getting her pregnant.

Next Story

Previous Story

[thebirdandthebee]

Easy As

A Carmen Berzatto Universe

Vanessa Monaghan is the breath of fresh air that Carmen had been gasping for.

Page 2: Sugar Mama

Vanessa checked her watch as her heels clicked down the street, a Cartier tankard that was a gift from her father for finishing undergrad. The Bear was just closing down between lunch and dinner service, and she was sure she’d be able to catch Carm for a few minutes.

Her meetings had wrapped up early that day, and after sending her employees home to enjoy the beautiful weather, she thought she could swing by and see her favorite chef for just a short while. He’d no doubt be at the restaurant until late, and their schedules hadn’t lined up in a few days.

Late night and early-morning kisses seemed to be the current pattern. He’d schlep over a few nights a week to sleep in her bed and watched as she got ready in the morning. She hoped the two coffees in her hands would sweeten her odds.

Peeking her head inside the glass door, she couldn’t hear much outside of the kitchen, which had The Fratellis playing loudly – a sure sign the crew was cleaning up between shifts.

“Nessie girl!” She was spotted immediately upon pushing through the half door to the back of house.

“Hi Richie,” she greeted with a warm smile.

“Nessie, how come we never see your angelic figure gracing our doors anymore?” Richie asked, pretending to take an arrow to the chest as he ambled toward her.

“I know, work’s got me so busy these days,” she replied, leaning into his side as he squeezed her in a tight hug. Richie was always overly friendly with Vanessa, mostly because he knew it made Carmen’s skin prickle, but also because he found her incredibly attractive.

“Hi Ness!” Sydney called from the other side of the expo.

“Hi Syd,” Vanessa called back. She loved Syd – a lot. Syd cared about Carmen in a way that he really needed at the restaurant and she firmly believed they pushed one another to be the best they could be. That, and Syd was usually the reason Carm would get a few nights off each month.

“Nessie, when you gonna stop it with this corporate bullshit and come join us in the mud, huh?” Richie asked, walking her through the kitchen and further from Carmen’s office.

“Come on, Rich, you know I’m the sugar mama in this relationship,” she winked. It was true, Vanessa made a very comfortable living as the Vice President of Marketing for a well to do firm in the city, but she also came from family money – something she never took for granted. “Someone’s gotta keep my baby in those vintage Levi’s and stocked with Wusthofs,” she joked – she only learned what Wusthofs were after meeting Carmen over a year ago.

“I’m just saying, business is booming, the new spot is burnin’ up the review pages,” Richie shrugged. “Maybe we could use some new marketing, huh?” He asked.

“You know what, you make an excellent point,” she said as they rounded the corner, Carmen’s office door in sight. “Let me bring it up with the big boss and see what he says,” Vanessa winked, hip-checking the office door and only mildly surprising Carmen at his desk. He thought he could hear his staff singing his girlfriend’s praises.

“Miss honey, you’ve been talking to the big boss,” Richie spread his arms. Vanessa wiggled her finger at the tall man just before the door could close behind her.

“Hi baby,” she greeted. Carmen had abandoned the few items on his desk, his chair turned to face her with a smug grin on his face. Vanessa clicked right over, settling herself between his spread legs, perched to the side on one of his thighs. “Coffee?” She offered, holding up the paper cup. Black, just like he preferred.

“How lucky am I?” He asked, taking the cup, but kissing her first. “What’s Richie on about now?” He took a long pull of the hot coffee.

“Wants me to quit my job to come be a topless server,” she replied casually, taking a sip of her caffeine-free tea.

“What?” Carmen’s eyes popped open, Vanessa let out a tinkling laugh.

“Just kidding,” she grinned. God he loved her smile. He nipped at her side with his free hand.

“Finish up early today?” He asked. She crossed her outer leg over the other, leaning fully against his upper body.

“Yes, the weather was too stunning to be at the office,” she sighed. “Wanted my team to go enjoy it for once.”

“What a nice boss lady,” Carmen replied.

“We’re not curing cancer, it’s marketing,” she shrugged. “Soon we’ll be in the hell of winter and cutting out early won’t be nearly as fun.”

“Maybe we can take a trip this winter,” Carmen said, brushing an errant bang away from Vanessa’s face.

“A trip?” She asked, eyes lighting up. In 15 months of dating, the pair had yet to take a trip together and she was dying to get him out of that apron for more than 24 hours. Though she did really love the sight of him in that blue apron. “To where?” She asked, raking a hand through his curls.

He loved when her nails were freshly manicured.

“Somewhere warm? We can drink out of coconuts and get sunburns on our ass?” She suggested excitedly.

“I’d never let you burn those cheeks, baby,” he grinned. She tightened her hold on his hair, tugging his head back just harshly enough to send a warning bell down to his cock.

“Want me to plan something?” She asked, batting her eyelashes at her boyfriend, who, at this time, would do just about anything she asked.

“How about February?” He suggested, “that’s usually about the time I start really hating winter.”

“Valentine’s Day,” she grinned viciously. “I’d just die to be on a beach with you for Valentine’s Day,” Vanessa simpered, running a hand up his chest.

“Book it,” he grinned, blue eyes scanning her stunning face. He loved seeing her happy. “I don’t care if I gotta pay Syd triple, we’re going.” Carmen insisted.

Vanessa tucked her heels under her, dragging her hand back down Carmen’s chest as she stood to her full height.

“I’ll go book the trip,” she said airily. “You enjoy dinner service…” She trailed, “and I’ll send you some pics of which bikinis I plan to bring with me.” Leaning down, she pressed a long kiss to the corner of Carmen’s mouth before collecting her coffee cup and pulling the office door open.

“Bye, chef,” she blew a kiss, the door closing behind her.

Carmen ran his hand down his face before dropping his head back against the chair.

February felt a lifetime away.

[kyosmommy]

Minors DNI

contains: friends to lovers, oral (fem receiving), tiddy worship, implied squirting

You aspired to be a great chef and open your own restaurant one day. So naturally you decided to work at a restaurant to get a feel for it. You decided that working with your best friend was your safest route considering he already owned his own restaurant. You ate here all the time anyways so what's the harm. Plus you know free food.

“Hey boss!” you teased, placing all your belongings in your usual spot in the kitchen. The back of the shop was all very home-like. The counters were filled with small nick nacks. Your favorite being the volleyball salt and pepper shakers.  

“Hey pumpkin, bad news. We have to work pretty late today.” he spoke over his shoulder and continued cutting away at vegetables. There were small neat piles on his cutting board of all types of veggies.

“I don’t mind but may I ask why?” you questioned as you tied your apron strings. It was canvas colored with a small cartoon origini on it. He loved hearing you ramble about how cute it was.

“My stupid brother wants to pass by with his team which means 10 professional athletes will be eating here tomorrow. Hence all the sacks of rice on the counter,” he points to the table with rice cookers and rice bags lined up ready to be prepared. He places down the knife and walks over to you. “And who better to help me than my pretty little assistant.” He flashes you a taunting smile. 

“Alright big guy, where do you want me?” 

“Preferably on my bed but getting the meat from the freezer is fine too.” he blew you a comical kiss which you gladly caught and placed on your cheek with a fake lovey dovey sigh.

And so the day began. The third staff member was in charge of the front counter and attending to the guests while you and Osamu made the meals for tomorrow. He was a shy but funny highschool student looking to get some extra cash for video games. Osamu had a soft spot for him so he was often given raises. Hours flew by as the two of you made rice and all kinds of fillings to suit the players' tastes. There was endless chatter about random nonsense, some tv shows you both watch and a shit ton of middle school humor.  

“Does it taste good? Or is it too salty?” you gave him a spoonful of the meat and sauce mix to try. You decided to try something new and surprise him, mixing his favorite meat in with his homemade sauce. 

“That’s what she said.” he giggled at his own flat joke before trying it. “Hmm goof.” he hummed in satisfaction. 

“Swallow!” He couldn’t handle it. He spit out the mix at your face and burst into laughter. Gripping your shoulders to stabilize himself. 

“Do you think before you say these things!” He clutched his chest as his breath stabilized. 

You gave him a sour look and so he shuffled over to grab his towel and clean your face off. Your eyes were closed as he worked away, wiping all the food off you. He stopped at the side of your cheek to admire your features. “Pretty” his voice was so hushed you didn’t hear him. He leaned in closer, your faces inches apart. 

“Sir my shift is over and the shop is all closed up and clean so have a good day!” The poor kid knew he walked into something. He quickly waved goodbye and left as quickly as he came. Slamming the door on his way out. 

“Yeah thanks kid, have a good ni- and he's gone. Alright let’s get back to work.” 

“Good idea” you cleared your throat and looked away. 

Things got really awkward after that. He stopped making eye contact and his terrible jokes stopped. You had to think of something to ease the tension. You still had so much to do and you couldn’t bear to have it be like this the whole time. 

“Hey ‘samu can you help me over here real quick!” you shouted from the sinks at the wash station. They were in a separate room to the rest of the kitchen so that spilt water can go down the floor drains. Which you thought was genius of him.

“Yeah whatcha need.” The second he turned the corner you sprayed him with the handheld nozzle. “Oh so that’s how we’re playing.”

He grabbed a nearby cup and filled it, chasing you around for a bit trying to catch you. When he finally caught up to you he wrapped an arm around you from behind and drenched your shirt, laughing into your neck. You couldn't help but laugh along. Your laugh made his chest feel all warm. 

The water had soaked through the apron and your shirt, making your shirt translucent. He could see everything from his view above you. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’s always had a thing for you and this wasn't making it any easier. 

“Didn’t take you as the lace bra type.” His grip on you tightened slightly. “I’m so glad I made the staff uniform white” his hands come up to grope your pretty tits. Pushing them up and releasing them. “You’re gorgeous, you know that.” 

“Can’t tell if you’re talking to me or my tits and my shirt’s still soaked.” he softly chuckled. 

“Both.” he whispered into the shell of your ear. “Can I make it up to you? Maybe help you clean up?” his hand slowly trailed down to rest in your inner thigh. 

“M’yeah.” You hummed in approval. His hand came behind to undo your apron knot, letting it fall gently to the floor. 

“Spread your legs for me baby.” his hands smoothed over your stomach before making their way into your pants. “You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this.” He rubbed small circles at your clit, eliciting satisfied hums to fall from your lips. 

You’ve always thought he was hot but god did he just go from a 10 to 50 real quick. “Oh so you planned this, didn’t you pretty boy? Asking me to stay late, all the little hints.” you tried your best to make your voice not sound strained. 

“Maybe a little, all with your permission of course.” His other hand made work of your shirt buttons. Taking in all you had to offer when your shirt finally came off. You were so pretty to him. All your small gimmicks and reactions to situations had him so in love. 

“Ah. Such a gentleman.” a small moan escaped your lips when his fingers ghosted your entrance. You gripped his forearm and he stopped immediately, looking for any signs of discomfort or hesitance. 

“Are you ok?” His voice was soft. 

“Yeah can we just adjust positions?” you dropped your head back onto his shoulder. 

He had a moment of thought, resting his head against yours. “Do you trust me?”

“One hundred percent.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“God fuck! Right there!” your head knocks back into the wall and hips roll into his face. He doesn’t hold back any sounds either, grunting and obscene licking were the only things echoing in the room. He absolutely loved this. It was so messy. Cum and spit dribble down your thighs and onto the floor, his face was slick with your cum and he adored it. He could cum from this alone.

He’s had you against the wall with both thighs wrapped around his face for about 30 minutes now. His idea of trusting him was just another way to show off his strength. Gripping at your thighs like it’s his life line. You thrash against the wall, pawing at his hair and shoulders. 

“‘Samu s’too much.” your words were barely understandable at this point. He had reduced you to a babbling mess. He hummed into you and that’s all it took. Your orgasm came crashing down hard. You didn’t even notice what you had done at first. 

He looked up at you with cum dripping off his face and chin. The proud smirk on his face made you squirm in embarrassment.

“Hey pumpkin, I said I would help you clean up the mess. But I think made a bigger one.” 

[marvelsuperfangirl]

Angel among demons

Biker!Bucky x Reader

Being a biker didn’t mean that holidays weren’t appreciated, but not obviously exciting either.

Nonetheless, Bucky and his crew found themselves hanging out in their favourite bar on the 31st of October. Usually itw as populated by bikers only, but tonight, the said bikers had reveted a whole new childish mood.

The place had undergone a drastic change to fit the Halloweeny atmosphere that had taken over the whole town.

Orangey lights, fake tombstones, bat garlands running along the ceiling, and automats representing monsters. The staff was wearing costumes, as well as some customers, who Bucky barely recognized under their new appearance.

But the change which grabbed Bucky’s attention the most was the bartender.

Y/N.

A cute girl who got hired a few months ago and in which the biker found great pleasure in admiring from afar and the few times she got close, dared use flirty lines to pull soft giggles out of her.

An angelic being along all those fierce demons. Tonight, she was wearing an actual angel outfit.

Corny feathery wings sprouting from behind her back, a headband on which a glittery halo perched on thin transparent threads, and to complete the look, a cute white dress that floated around her form.

Bucky sat on a stool at the bar, completely entranced by the sight before him. Hi slips formed a small smile but parted slightly, at loss for words.

« That was my idea ! » a voice pulled him out of his observation.

Tony, the owner of the bar , had slid on the stool next to him.

« Usually those commercial holidays suck but this time, it’s not so bad » he smirked, eyes never leaving the young woman.

« Only touching with your eyes, Barnes hum ? »

He simply hummed and kept his focus on the angel.

While she was preparing drinks for a group of customers, their eyes met and she gratified him with a toothy grin and a wave before she went back to her task. His heart leaped in his chest when he noticed how the smile of her lips lingered for a moment longer.

And while Bucky was busy smily like an idiot, Tony shook his head and hit his shoulder lightly.

« I mea nit Barnes ! No frickle frackle in my bar and don’t you break my bartender’s heart ! »

Bucky forced himself to tear his eyes from Y/N to stared at his friend.

« Who said anything about breaking hearts ? »

« Please ! You don’t exactly inspire romantic dates and cuddles… »

He threw him one last glare and turned back to Y/N.

« That’ll be hers to decide and I’ll follow » he whispered, already losing himself in his daydreams.

On that lovey dovey stuff, Tony wandered off leaving Bucky in his lovesick trance.

All along the night, the bar filled with more and more customer, causing Y/N to become busier as the time passed.

And among the partygoers, one was getting way too attached to her side ; at least to Bucky’s taste.

He followe her movements around the barn changing spot as she shifted to the left of the right, in order to serve the customers. And at one point, he chose to settled on the empty stool next to Bucky, which was rarely occupied because of his reputation among the usuals of the place.

« Please love, you don’t know what you’re missing, and I bet you want to let loose. Come on, just one date ! »

She glanced at the stranger, then at Bucky, offering him an eyeroll, clearly telling him that she had enough of the yapping little man, before shifting her attention to the latter.

« My boyfriend won’t be too happy about that… »

Bucky opened his mouth to ask about that mysterious lover of yours but was cut short by the stranger.

« What he doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, right ? »

Bucky abruptly turn to him, a death glare darkening his eyes.

« Listen, she said, no, so let her be »

Without paying any attention to the words of the idiot, who was about to get his ass handed by Bucky if he didn’t stop harassing his angel, Y/N leaned over the bar and grazed her fingertips along Bucky’s lower arm. His eyes fixed the very spot she was stroking before he managed to lift his gaze to hers.

She maintain the eye contact the time of a blink and looked over her harasser.

« See that tough biker, That’s my man and he doesn’t like to share his stuff. Even less with his girl being bothered »

Bucky was melting under her delicate touch and her words only managed to agitate the butterflies flying around in his stomach.

Then her attention went back to him, this time she was sporting a pout and her eyebrows were slightly furrowed. He also noticed that he fingers had made their way to the back of his hand, drawing abstract pattern along his skin.

« Baby, please, tell him »

At your words, he felt himself ready to burst, in any sense of the word, adding your touch to the mix, his heart as well as his pants wouldn’t last long.

Then it hit him.

He turned to the guy, a glare set on his face, keeping his hand under yours.

«  Like she said, I don’t share. Get the hell away from my girl if you don’t want to lose your teeth »

The guy gulped and threw a brief glance your way, which resulted in Bucky clasping his free hands to his shoulder , making him jump at the contact.

« Don’t even dare look at her ! » he growl.

He nodded furiously before stumbling off the stool and pushing through the crowd and out of the bar.

Before Bucky could fully turned back to you, he felt his hand being squeezed.

« Thank you so much Bucky ! I didn’t know how to get rid of him. You’re my saviour ! »

Here goes his heart…

« Ah, it’s nothing doll. Couldn’t let a damsel in distress without help »

She put both of her hands around his, craddling it delicately while smiling at him.

« You’re so nice… All of your drinks for the night are on me, it’s the least I can do »

And with a last caress to his calloused hands, she pulled away, threw him a wink before going back to work.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on her retrieving form then looked down at his hands, or more precisely the spot where her hands were a few moments ago. The memory of her touch made his skin tingle.

And with a deep, full of love sight, he looked back at her, knowing fully that he’d follow her every moves for the remaining of the night.

Even when his mates joined him for a few drinks ; he gave himself the right to look away for a few instants and when he turned back to the other side of the bar, she was already there, leaning against the counter toward them, a small smile playing on her lips.

« What can I get you, gentlemen ? »  she asked, mostly focusing on her fake boyfriend.

« A round of beer for all of us, on this guy’s tab » Sam proudly passed an arm around Bucky’s shoulders while smiling up at you.

« I’m sorry, but I’m offering this man all his drinks tonight, and only his or else I’m gonna get fired in no time. But i’ll still get those beers right away. »

While you went to fill the pints the guys all stared at their leader.

« You get free drinks from a cute girl, Barnes ? » Steve bumped his shoulder against his friend’s.

« Did you finally make your move and seduced her ? »

The biker turned to his two friends and smiled. »

« That’s none of your business. Only between my girl and I »

You’d already returned with the drinks, settled them on the wooden surface of the bar.

« Enjoy guys »

But before you could turn for the umpteenth time, leaving Bucky to his misery, he called out to you, reaching for your hand.

« Y/N, wait ! There’s something I need to ask you »

She appeared to be surprised then looked at his hand, messily wrapped around hers, starting to display a thin layer of pink upon her cheeks. She moved herself to be standing right opposite him and wrapped her own fingers with his his in a surge of boldness 

« Yes, Bucky ? »

« As you boyfriend. I…I mean fake boyfriend, I have to take my girl out to show her how much of a good time she can have with me. How about diner when you’re off duty ? »

She reddened even more, especially with the three other men staring at her, waiting for her answer.

« Ugh…Yeah. Sure. I mean, I’d like to… »

Bucky tightened his hold on her hand while the biggest grin she’s ever seen broke out on his face.

« Awesome ! »

«  I’ll take my night off tomorrow, is i tokay ? »

He nodded eagerly.

« Then it’s a date ! But I really have to go back to work, let’s keep some things to say for our diner »

You brought your joined hands to your lips and pressed a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, eyes never leaving his, while your face heat up and mind boiled at your own sudden boldness.

And with a last wink, you detached yourself from Bucky and walked to another customer in need of refrshments.

Bucky was left speechless and grinning like an idiot under the eyes of his friends who’d finally get some peace after he pinned for her all this time.

[nanaminokanojo]

BLOOM | Sukuna X You | Part 1/3

CHARACTERS: Sukuna X You | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Maki | Fushiguro Toji | Baby Megumi | Megumi's Mom (OC) CHAPTER COUNT: 1/3 WORD COUNT: 8900+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | (eventual) smut | ooc sukuna | female reader CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity/strong language | alcohol use | cigarette smoking | age gap | unhealthy simping XD SPOILERS: N/A

collection masterlist

one two three | Bloom Masterlist

His hair was the color of cherry blossoms, that's the first thing you noticed. It was the softest shade of pink, easy on the eyes, reminding you of the tendrils of filtered rays of the sun lightly touching the edges of clouds very early in the morning. Or your favorite angora wool sweater.

The man stole your attention from the book you were reading when you chanced a look from your periphery just to check who sat on the stool beside your usual spot on the bar – the seat at the very end by the wall. Your planned glance turned into a furtive stare at the sight of him from his candy-floss-hued hair, the rippling muscles hidden under his white oxford shirt and the array of tattoos that peeked through his neatly folded sleeves. And boy, since when did men smell like vanilla and spring while also exuding such a virile scent?

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth at the thought, internally shaking your head at your behavior. You should not be staring at people, and though you weren't exactly ogling him, you were still observing him enough to associate him with your favorite article of winter clothing.

"Hey. The usual for you?" you heard Maki, the bar owner, ask, giving you the idea that the man was a regular. How you haven't spotted him before was a mystery.

If it was already hard concentrating on the novel you were reading, you've completely forgotten about it when you heard him say, "Make that single-malt." It's either the gates of hell opened at the sudden heat you felt on your skin at the sound of his voice or the gates of heaven did with how delicious it sounded in your ear, thick like honey and deep with a distinct ring to it. It got you wondering what his mother craved for when she was pregnant with him, and your brain said, "Greek gods," when you lifted your eyes from the current page you were reading and briefly exchanged looks with him as he shifted his line of vision from Maki to you.

You turned your eyes back to your book, making it seem like you were just absently looking about, but in reality, it took herculean effort to wrench your gaze from him. In that brief meeting of your eyes, the features of his face registered in your head like a bar code scanner, etching itself in your mind like a white-hot brand. He wasn't shockingly handsome, but he was beautiful in his own right with those intense eyes that reminded you of drowning pools and the rugged yet refined planes of his face. It was as if an artist painted him in passionate anger, slowly fell in love with the piece and began redefining his features with gentler strokes.

You turned the page of your book despite not getting any reading done. Well, it has been the case for a considerable amount of minutes now, but you tried anyway, furiously staring down at the new page but not comprehending anything. Your eyes kept scanning the same sentence over and over again but it was not sinking in at all.

"Excuse me, miss," that deep voice you've already developed a strange affection for assaulted your senses again, making your head snap up to the direction it was coming from. Hell, you think you'll do its owner's bidding just hearing it at the rate you were going, reacting automatically as if you were programmed with a voice prompt or something.

You were about to look at him but Maki caught your attention as she pushed the smoothie you ordered towards you, placing it precisely in front of you on the hardwood surface with her fingers. She arched a brow at you, causing you to stiffen on your seat.

You've been coming to the quiet little bar since you grew old enough to drink. In fact, you considered it your regular watering hole, going there whenever you can even in the day as it doubled as a gastro-pub. You've already come to know the staff who reserved the spot for you every single time you told them you were coming, particularly the tough but very lovable Maki. She's basically a friend now, and you knew you were acting off if she was giving you odd looks.

"Thanks, Maki," you said just in time, even managing to smile. She just shook her head at you before walking away to tend to another client.

"I have to know what book you are reading," the person beside you said just as you began sipping on your drink, which, you've noted, was a cherry blossom tea smoothie that reminded you of him.

You let go of the straw between your lips, swallowing hard. Turning your attention to him, you found him sitting sideways, chin propped on the heel of his palm as he regarded you. "Huh?" was all you could manage to say to him.

A slow, crooked smile etched itself across his mouth, the action appearing sensuous with the gradual way his expressions changed. "That book," he said for your benefit. "May I know what it is about?"

You just blinked, still questioning yourself if he was addressing you.

"If you're that engrossed about it, it must be great," he said. "Mind telling me the title?"

"Book?" you asked dumbly. He was really frying your brain.

He pointed at the book you were holding with his lips, protruding them slightly before smiling again. Jesus, you loved the way he smiled. The gesture didn't belong there when you've already thought he was the smirking, grinning-devil type. It was too soft a gesture, but then again his hair was shell-pink – a contradiction to his stridently brawny features.

"Oh." Despite yourself, you found yourself chuckling. "I'm sorry, I was distracted."

"Not by the book, I hope."

You looked away, smiling to yourself as you closed the object in question and slid it over to him. When you looked at him, you were surprised to see him actually reading the synopsis at the back, interest flickering in his dark eyes. You were already expecting him to just read the title, probably the author, too, thinking he was just flirting with you judging by his last words. But he was actually reading it.

"It's about an architect," he stated. "He must be mind-blowingly awesome if you're too transfixed on his story."

"No, Howard Roark is mostly a recalcitrant bastard who breaks rules here and there, doesn't cooperate or collaborate and is stone-faced about most anything."

"But it's what you like about him," he supplied.

You nodded. "He’s a breath of fresh air in a world governed by stuffy archaic principles. The spring to a long, stagnant winter of conformity. I'm in love with him." Noticing the look of amusement on his face, you were quick to add, "What?"

"Nothing." His smile didn't waver though. "Are you an architect, too?"

"Too?" you repeated with inflection then tilted your head. "Ah, you're an architect, huh?"

"Guilty."

"Any projects of note?" you asked, tilting your head in wonder when he seemed flustered. "What is it?"

He shook his head slowly. "You're very straightforward."

At that, you grinned. "Should I take you out to dinner before I get that information?" You sipped leisurely at your smoothie, glad that you throw him off as much as he flusters you.

"You don't have to," he found himself answering anyway. "But I work for a firm, so they get most of the credit. We built that new hotel at Shinjuku."

"Eh? Didn't pin you for a baroque kind of guy."

"You know..." He was all ears now judging by how he leaned closer to you. He leveled his expression to yours then. "So, what kind of guy did you think I am?"

There it is, you thought, the smirk you've been waiting for. Without giving it much thought, you said, "The Howard Roark type, of course."

***

"You seriously don't remember, do you?"

It wasn't that you didn't. You simply had no idea how you got home, considering how you ended up all smashed after enjoying too many margaritas after your smoothie. You seriously just didn't know certain things. You didn't know what happened after you reached your limit. And out of all the things you know you should not have missed, you didn't know his name.

You were sitting on the kitchen counter, nursing a headache, trying to fill in every bit of information your friends were trying to leech out of you in your addled state. You've been expecting it - the great inquisition - especially after you returned in a state lesser than they've been expecting, unconscious, according to the collective stories of your roommates, when you told them you were just stepping out to get some reading done. And on a school night, no less. Very atypical of you indeed.

"What should I be remembering?" you responded to Ieiri. You weren't exactly fond of her worrisome nature although you knew she was just watching your back especially since she has been rather disapproving of your escapades with these guys you somewhat dated back then. You appreciated it, but it didn't mean you liked it.

"Oh, I don't know, Y/N. Strawberry blond? Tats? Drives a Jeep? Ring any bells?" she said, jogging your memory. "He came knocking at two in the morning, carrying you in his arms. I mean he was hot according to Satoru, but do you even know the guy?"

“Cherry blossom,” you absently corrected the color Ieiri mentioned.

“Huh?”

“Him, I remember.” You smiled at the thought, not hiding your delight from them. You were sure they were just annoyed that they weren't in on the action since Satoru, your other friend and roommate, who seem nonexistent recently, was the one who interacted with the man you met and supposedly brought you back to the house you rented with all of them. And Satoru doesn't know basic decorum to actually ask what the man’s name was. "Howard."

"Howard?" Suguru, another one of your friends who was in the literature department as you were, asked. "Howard Roark?" He knew the reference, obviously. You forced him to read the book before it even became one of your study materials.

You nodded enthusiastically. "He's an architect."

"He didn't look like a 'Howard,' apparently," Ieiri said.

"That name is from her favorite book," Suguru supplied, his dark eyes shifting to you as he tucked some stray strands of his long, raven locks which were currently tied in a half-up. "So your guy's an architect, too."

"That, but he isn't 'my guy' and I don't know what his name is."

He grinned then. "If you're openly calling him by the name of the character you claim to be in love with, I'm assuming..."

"No!" Ieiri gasped.

You laughed despite the action making your head hurt. You were still hungover after all, but you didn't mind, not when you knew you had a good night. Probably a great night to allow yourself to be hammered like you have been. You only ever drank to your fill when the company is great and when you were in a jovial mood.

"It's nothing like that. He just feels like spring time. Looks like it, too." You waved your hands in front of you for emphasis. Still, your expressions said otherwise.

You weren't in love with the man because you didn't believe in mushy things like love at first sight, but you knew you liked him, just that you weren't getting your hopes up cause there's a chance you might not see him ever again, assuming your meeting was something transient like the blossoms his hair made you think of. Even if he was a regular at Maki's, if your schedules didn't coincide with one another, it would not be easy to meet. You've been coming to the same bar for years and yet, you've only ever seen him that time. You never really know.

But then, you got your answer pretty quickly.

From: Satoru

See you at 7 tomorrow night. Same place.

That’s how Satoru's message read, sent late the previous night. You almost forgot about the agreement you’ve had with him to get unlimited barbecue after sleeping the rest of the day but you made it out just in time. It was something you did with all three of your friends as a way to bond with them individually.

You glanced at the clock on your phone, feeling the stares of the restaurant staff on you. Well, you’ve been there for more than an hour waiting for him. One hour and thirteen minutes to be precise. All you’ve ordered so far was a glass of lemonade and you were able to finish that in the first half hour, sitting on a table for two when evidently, you were alone. All your texts were ignored and your calls were always being redirected to voicemail.

“Where the fuck are you, Gojo Satoru?” you asked him in one of your messages, hissing low into your phone just so the other diners would not be offended by your words. You got a message another twenty minutes later, the sound of your phone almost making you jump from your seat. However, when you looked at it, it was from an unknown number.

You were about to check the message when one of the waitresses came to your table, pad and pen on the ready. She’s always the one who served you whenever you and your friends would go there for a dose of beef and pork fat, and she has always been nice to you.

“Not to be nosy but I think your friend isn’t coming.”

You nodded, grimacing. “Tell me about it.”

“The boss has been giving you the stink eye, too.”

Looking over the counter, you saw the elderly man really looking at you. He looked away when you met his eyes, muttering to himself. You knew how the owner could get, but you simply loved going there since their food is good and the service is just the same. You smiled ruefully at the woman before you. “I’ll have a sukiyaki set and warm sake, please. Thank you.”

“Would that be all?”

“Yeah.”

“Coming right up.” She flashed you a bright smile before disappearing into the back rooms.

You almost forgot the message you saw earlier, but then, your phone lit up again with that familiar tone. The new message was from the same number.

From: Unknown

How are you?

From: Unknown

I hope you’re okay.

You frowned, not having the slightest clue as to who could be texting you.

From: You

Who is this?

Your order came but there was no response from the mystery texter or Satoru. You felt pathetic looking at your phone every once in a while as you ate and drank. Normally, you wouldn’t even have given anybody, including your best friends, the time of the day, making you wait for longer than an hour without as much as a message. You don’t ever wait for people over the agreed meeting time. You hated it with passion. And you were already thinking of ways to make Satoru pay.

You were about to eat a mouthful of beef when you heard the chair across you being dragged back. Your eyes flicked to the direction, and to your utter shock, you almost dropped your chopsticks if it weren’t for the hand that reached out and held onto your hand, securing the utensils.

Once again, you were sitting on your usual spot at the bar, eyes clashing with those intense ones owned by the pink-haired guy who apparently drove a charcoal grey Jeep and reminded you of spring, the same one who drove you home the other night.

“Careful,” he said, his scent assaulting your senses.

A lump formed in your throat, making you unable to form proper words, so you settled for putting down the chopsticks. You folded your hands together on your lap, recovering from your consternation before you finally looked at him, unable to help it but grin. He looked different that day, more laid back in a white baseball cap mussing his candy-floss hair down, a loose-fitting shirt in the same hue and jeans. He looked so fresh, you felt the air around you cool down considerably.

“How did you…” you hesitated and shook you head. “Hello.”

He broke into that crooked smile. “Crazy how the moment you sent the message, I saw you through the glass walls while I drove past.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it again, not quite knowing how to react to it when suddenly, the first part of his statement registered in your mind. “Wait, message?” You picked up your phone, showing him the messages. “This is you?”

He nodded slowly. “Looks like you’re doing great.” He regarded the bottle of sake on the table. “I had to get your number to check up on you. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Y-yeah, I mean, no, not at all. Thank you by the way.” You chuckled, saving his number and naming him Spring God in your contacts. “I wasn’t really expecting you to bring me home.”

“I got your address from your driving license.” He grinned then. “I thought of taking you back to my place, but I didn’t know how that would sit with you.”

Who says chivalry was dead? “I’m sorry for acting crazy, if I did anyway." You chuckled. "I don't remember…and for having to bring me all the way to the house.”

“It’s fine. It was lovely meeting Satoru.”

At that, your face flushed red. You winced. “I’m sorry for whatever he did while I was out of it.” He could be crazy at times, and you wouldn't be surprised if he did something untoward.

He shook his head, letting out a slight chuckle. “He was very nice to me, don’t worry.” He furrowed his brows then. “I also got your name. Y/N. I don’t know if you forgot to tell me or you just didn’t trust me enough, but I’d like to think it’s the former since you didn’t seem to think twice about getting wasted with me like you did.”

You deliberately didn’t tell him your name, but he was making it sound a little nicer. It wasn’t really something you planned on doing again, meeting him, but somehow, he found you. You shook you head, coming clean. “If you put it that way, okay, but really, I thought it was better if you didn’t know.”

“Hmm. Why is that?”

You found it endearing that he tilted his head a bit to the side when he asked the question. Your lips curled upwards at the corner. “I just never thought I’d meet you again.”

“That would be unfortunate.”

You laughed awkwardly at his remark. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way.”

“I’m not offended.”

“Okay.”

You requested for another order of barbecue for him. He declined but you insisted. “Come on. My treat for your act of kindness.” You snickered. “Besides, my supposed date bailed.”

“Date?”

Sighing, you said, “Well, not really. Satoru. We agreed to meet here over an hour ago but he hasn’t been answering my messages or calls. Something probably came up.”

He eyed you thoughtfully. “If you don't mind me asking, is he your...?"

"My what?"

"Your boyfriend…maybe."

You chuckled at the thought, but then you realized you didn't even know his name. "I don't really tell strangers about things like that," you teased.

“Okay, but I thought we’re past being strangers.” He smirked then and you swore you felt your stomach flip.

“We’re in the getting-to-know-each-other phase,” you told him with a laugh, acceding. "Since I didn't tell you my name, I didn't expect you to tell me yours. Plus I didn't ask, so may I have yours?"

"Sukuna," he said. "Ryomen Sukuna."

"Su-ku-na," you repeated, liking the feel of the syllables as they rolled out of your tongue. Finally, the person you've gotten so fond of in just a short time had a name. You didn't know what his name meant but it seemed to match him well regardless of how arbitrary it was to his person. You couldn't think of any better name though. "I like your name. It's pretty." You smiled brightly at him then. "And no, Satoru is not my boyfriend."

Ryomen Sukuna was an absolute puzzle to you. How he could look so badass and pretty much intimidating with his strapping physique and inked skin – throw in the multiple piercings on his left ear which you were noticing or the first time – while also pulling off all these adorable little actuations was a quandary to you. Tall, solidly built men like him should not be reminding you of soft, cute things, but the moment he blinked in confusion, you knew you couldn't get enough of it.

"Nobody ever said that about my name, but thanks," he returned in that deep voice after a moment's pause. And was that a dusting of roses over his cheeks? The surprises you were getting from this man was endless. He really was such a breath of fresh air, so far from the usual stereotypes.

Your face seemed to be perpetually pulled into a smile whenever you were around him, and you didn't think you were doing a good job suppressing the urge to be beaming like an idiot around him. "So, anyway, what made you think that blue-eyed idiot is my boyfriend?" you asked, changing the topic.

"Well, he was a bit hostile at first when he took you from me, making me explain things but then started apologizing after. He told me you could be a handful when inebriated..." He let his voice trail off as if letting you chew on his words.

"You agree with him." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Sukuna pretended to frown. "He also calls you 'his princess'."

You threw your head back, covering your eyes momentarily in embarrassment. "Now I wish you met Ieiri and Suguru instead," proceeding to explain that the nickname was something akin to what a father would call his precious daughter.

"He was rather intimidating, but I guess he's just looking out for you."

"He's still not off the hook for standing me up," you quipped, "But you finding him intimidating is funny."

"Why?"

You scoffed, gesturing over to him. "I think you can snap him in two if you wished, too."

"He was scary," Sukuna insisted.

"He's harmless...most of the time, but yeah, he’s rather protective. That’s one of my dads for you."

He laughed then. "There's nothing scarier than a fiercely protective friend…or a doting father. I can't muscle my way out of that for sure."

"Ah, then you'll find Ieiri scarier."

The night pretty much went well and ended on a good note. Sukuna did most of the talking for the rest of the night. You learned he was six years older than you at twenty nine, one of the head architects at the firm he worked for, has a love-hate relationship with his job cause he wants to draw portraits instead, was a delinquent when he was younger but got away with things cause he was a straight-A student, loved dogs so much that he cries when they die in movies, was closer to his mom, got his tattoos on a sudden whim, and was pretty much a sweet, charming genuine person which contrasted his appearance. What you see isn't what you get. That just isn't how it worked with him.

You loved it when he talked. It was rather entertaining as he had a way of telling stories which made you feel like you were actually there when it happened. Eventually, you forgot the reason why you were at the restaurant in the first place. It was as if you went there for the purpose of meeting Sukuna himself. Satoru was all but forgotten as you dissolved into carefree laughter and playful banters, and you felt at ease and more like yourself around him, pretty much like when you were with your three favorite people in the world.

“It’s not really that funny,” Sukuna told you, watching you laugh heartily at that one episode in his freshmen year when he made a mistake of going on a date with the wrong girl who happened to have the same name as his supposed date. You continued to laugh as if he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just crazy that both of them were there at the same time. I mean, what were the odds?”

He parked by the sidewalk in front of your house, killing the engine. “That’s the reason why I have never agreed to a single blind date ever again.” He pulled the key out of the ignition, glancing at the direction of your house. “We’re here.”

Your laughter died down when you followed the direction of his gaze. The lights were off except for the one lighting up the porch of the house you shared with your friends. You returned your gaze to him then. “Thanks for driving me home. Again.”

“I enjoyed your company. It’s the least I can do.”

You smiled warmly at him, reaching over to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek when he suddenly turned his head a fraction towards you. That minute change made your lips end up against his instead. He was surprised at first and remained immobile against you, but when you pulled away, he chased you back, connecting your mouths, his lips feeling soft and warm yet emitting that air of dominance as it coaxed yours to move in sync with his. You were kissing him back in no time, but you immediately caught yourself and withdrew, utterly flustered.

Your heart thudded heavily as he held you in his intense gaze, his tongue slowly running over his lower lip, making you even more mentally incapacitated. It made you want to just pull him back to you and covet those lips with yours again. You snapped out of it though. You already knew he was capable of hot-wiring and hijacking your brain.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you told him when you were able to form words again.

Sukuna looked at you from under his lashes, smiling slightly. “I’m not.”

Taken aback, you chuckled nervously. “No?”

He shook his head, reached over and ruffled your hair a bit. “Go inside. It’s late.” You nodded and disembarked from the car while he leaned on the steering wheel, watching you. You were already on the pavement, about to close the door, when he spoke again. “Can I come see you again?”

“Sure,” you said without thinking. “Good night, Sukuna.” Man, you just loved saying his name.

“Bye, Y/N. Good night.”

He drove away while you made your way towards your doorstep. Your fingers flew to your lips once you were standing on your porch, smiling to yourself at the realization of having kissed him. Shaking your head, you fished for the keys from your pocket and entered the house, not quite remembering how you got to your room, but you slept that night with pleasant dreams of running your fingers through pink locks of hair.

***

"I'm really sorry. Something came up and my phone died."

You acceded. It wasn’t as if Satoru did something so big. You went to the outdoor kiosks near the parking lot by the football grounds to catch up on some reading while Satoru ate and told you bits of his past few days, since he got held up at their family estate. Having such a traditional, high-ranking family in the country sure had its downsides, and you weren't about to make him even more agitated than he already was. He had it difficult, you knew that, and you weren’t about to be petty over him not coming to your supposed bonding time. He may be happy-go-lucky but you felt tension simmering just under the surface when you squeezed his hand in assurance.

Suguru and Ieiri followed shortly after Satoru fetched you from class, also surprised to see him there. "So, you finally decided to show up," the former said.

"Don't ask," Satoru said.

"Wasn't planning to," Suguru scoffed, his attention shifting to you. “What are you working on anyway?” he asked, flipping the file you were reading haphazardly to peer through the contents.

“I’m making an analysis report on ‘The Romantic Manifesto’.” you answered, looking up from the notes you were writing when your eyes suddenly strayed over his shoulder. You almost did a double-take, glancing at Suguru before returning your line of vision at the spot beyond where he sat.

“It’s due…” your voice trailed off when you realized just what, or rather who, you were looking at. You weren’t so sure whether what you were seeing was real or a mirage, a very familiar, specific and detailed one, but then, you figured it was the former when the person smirked and cocked his head to the side, beckoning you over to where he leaned against his grey Jeep as he raised a cup of what looked like cherry blossom tea.

Suguru arched a brow at you, looking behind him but not really noticing the object of your distraction. “Hey, you okay?”

Ieiri followed the direction of your gaze and nudged you when she saw who you were looking at. "Is that your Howard? Damn, girl. He’s sizzling."

You nodded, but at that same moment, you rose from the table without any explanation, your feet immediately leading you towards the outdoor carpark. When you were within earshot, you said, “What are you doing here?”

You stopped a few feet from him, glancing behind you to where the others had already turned their heads to follow the path you took, flashing you shit-eating grins. It wouldn’t surprise you anymore if they had pieced together who the person was before you. They claimed to be your ‘parents’ but acted like children at times.

“I brought you tea.” Sukuna walked towards you, standing so close that you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds as you inhaled his scent and took in his appearance, looking immaculate in a plain white shirt and faded jeans, but your brain only seemed to register those lips and the memory of how they felt against yours.

You shook your head, snapping out of your trance, mentally cursing at yourself. “Hi.” You exhaled loudly, trying hard not to smile like an idiot while you absently twirled your hair on your finger, suddenly seeing the world through a pinkish filter. "How do you keep finding me?"

Sukuna's smile dropped. “Did I come at an inconvenient time?” he asked gently, trying hard not to sound miffed, but he obviously was taken aback by your words.

“No.” You shook your head, placing a hand over your forehead. You finally smiled at him, letting out a choked snicker. “No, Sukuna. It’s good to see you. It’s just that I wasn’t expecting to see you here. And you didn't really tell me you were coming.”

He grinned at you then but he still appeared unsure, placing a hand behind his neck. “Right.”

You flashed him a helpless look. “Please don’t look at me like that. I’m just really surprised.”

“Hmm." He moved closer to you, wrapping your hand around the transparent disposable cup. His proximity was affecting you in ways you couldn't admit out loud. "Are you happy to see me, too?"

"Too? So, you're happy to see me?"

"Always."

That's it. You're done for. Trying to avoid his intense gaze and escaping his scrutiny, you glanced over your shoulder to find everyone on your table observing you blatantly. Satoru raised a thumb at you while Ieiri was giggling with Suguru.

"Are those your friends?" Sukuna commented, his minty breath fanning against the side of your face which made you turn a little too quickly to face him again only to be confronted by his face leaning towards yours, mere centimeters away.

“Y-yeah.” You leaned a bit backwards but he moved forward. “That they are.” You stepped backwards again, nearly faltering on your feet, but you immediately gained your balance when he grabbed you by the arm, steadying you.

"Are you alright?" Sukuna asked, looking at you with concern written all over his face which morphed into wonder when you said, "Yeah, you're just overwhelming."

"Huh?"

"I can't think properly when I'm around you," you stated casually, your expressions not giving anything away as per usual. You arched a brow at him when he did the same. "You hot-wire my brain."

"I know what you mean." He smirked despite his confusion. "Is that good or bad?"

You eyed him thoughtfully, biting on your lower lip. "Good for you, bad for me. You can probably tell me to eat dirt and I'd do it in a heartbeat."

He chuckled, looking at you tenderly. "You're too honest."

"To a fault," you agreed, "Suguru tells me all the time. Wanna meet them?"

He ruffled your hair. "Sure."

***

While you weren't exactly expecting to see Sukuna again after the night you met, he became of constant presence around you. You have gone out with him several times over the course of two months. He was a busy person and you also had your priorities, but he always makes you feel special whenever you two would be out and about, behaving like such a gentleman opening and closing doors for you, naturally shifting closer to traffic while you walked, bringing an extra jacket in case you felt cold or a larger umbrella so you don't get wet, bringing you your favorite tea whenever he could.

He picked you up from school for lunch twice, making the most of the hour, and one time, you brought him lunch at work when he suddenly canceled on you, saying he was swamped with work. He sounded really upset so you decided to go to him instead. You brought Suguru with you as a buffer, but Sukuna's colleagues still teased him. He was different in the office – gruff and strict which fitted him more – but he still beamed at you happily when you brought him food, not caring who saw.

Apart from the brief phone calls, you two never really texted. It wasn't really your thing and he didn't like it either, so it could go days on end without you saying anything to each other, but when you do get a chance to speak, it would always be like picking up on where you've left off. He has only ever sent you two messages. One to remind you to take good care of yourself because he was going to be away for a while and another one a week later asking if you wanted to go out with him that coming Friday night.

"Your timing's off," you told him over the phone. You really wanted to say yes, but, "Ieiri, the boys and I are going out that night. Gang tradition."

"Some other time then?"

"Sure."

You hung up after a few more exchanges of words, getting started on reading some notes when Ieiri entered the kitchen. "Was that Howard?"

"Yeah. He's inviting me to go out on Friday, but I already said yes to clubbing with you guys."

She grinned cheekily, wrapping an arm around you as she poked you on the cheek. At times, it feels like Satoru was rubbing off on her. "Are you sure you don't want to ditch us for the hot architect?"

"Hot architect –" You snickered. "Did you just say that?"

"I was supposed to say 'sugar daddy,' literally and figuratively. Sugar and his cotton candy hair. Get it?"

You narrowed your eyes at her, shaking your head. It was supposed to be amusing, but when Ieiri says it, it just sounds weird. "Can I read in peace now?"

She left you alone, but laughed at your expense.

Friday couldn't have rolled around fast enough and you headed out with your friends at the club owned by a friend of yours, prepared to party in a pair of tight-fitting jeans, a crop top and your hair hanging about in wavy layers. You were already expecting the place to be cramped as hell given the day of the week so much so that Suguru had to hold onto you tightly so as not to lose you when you entered until you found the area you had reserved for the night. It was for good measure too since the place was drenched in purple, blue and green laser lights which were disorienting at first. And so, your night began as such.

You were in the middle of dancing, only pausing when you had to down your nth shot for the night when your eyes suddenly strayed to the bar area at the elevated part of the club adjacent to the the leather seats. You looked away but returned your gaze towards said direction when you realized this very familiar guy was looking at you. He was watching you as you danced and let loose, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

You craned your neck, looking back and thinking the guy looked a lot like Sukuna, but then he couldn’t be. He was engaged elsewhere, still you continued to ogle him until you were pretty sure it wasn’t the same person. But the longer you looked, the more it was being proven to you that it was him.

That lopsided smile drew itself across his lips, seeing as how you were doubting yourself about his identity. There was no mistaking that look on his face, the way his dark eyes seemed to sparkle whenever he smiled even if the action didn't belong there.

“Sukuna?” you mouthed his name and he nodded, motioning for you to come over with his head. It had been a solid ten days since you last saw him, and for some reason, your heart raced at the thought of seeing him there.

Without saying a word to the people you were with, you squeezed yourself through the crowd, your feet carrying to the upstairs bar, to Sukuna. It took you a while to traverse the space between you, and when you finally stood before him, all you could do was smile up at him, taking in the soft look about him as he regarded you which were at odds to those fiery eyes that had the capability to turn into bright orbs of light when he beamed down at you.

“Hello, Y/N. Once again, fate has brought you to me,” he said rather dramatically, a smirk drawing itself across his pretty mouth.

Laughter escaped your throat, unable to say anything when you realized that you actually missed him, missed looking at him. Unable to help it, you stood on your toes and reached out to touch his hair, the action surprising the both of you. He eyed you, his expressions that of a half-smile and a look of confusion while you retracted your hands as quickly as you felt his soft locks with your fingertips, wincing at the realization of what you were doing.

At that, he laughed heartily, stealing your hand and pressing it over the side of his head. “Go ahead. I don’t mind you touching me,” he told you, staring into your eyes that you felt like all the air in the room was gone.

You blinked at him, processing what he said and joined in his mirth. “You're here!” You shook your head when it dawned to you that you were stating the obvious. “I’m sorry. How are you, Sukuna?”

“Pink?” he offered and chuckled at his own joke which made your face heat up. “Kidding. I’m great. I missed you these past days. How are you?”

“You did?” You felt your insides melting at his statement, made worse when he nodded to confirm it. “I’m fine. Great. Where have you disappeared to anyway?”

He snickered a your question. “Madrid.”

Your jaw dropped. “As in Spain?”

He nodded. “Had to do something there.”

“Uh-huh.” His words were rather obscure, but you didn’t want to encroach on his private life.

“What are the odds that we’re at the same club?”

“The owner is a friend,” you answered, smiling awkwardly as you glanced at the direction of your friends on the dance floor. You saw all of them looking at you. Suguru winked at you, giving you the thumbs up, making you laugh at his silliness.

“The gang’s all here, I see.”

“What?” You faced Sukuna, finding him leaning close beside you against the metal balustrade. Just then, a waiter passed by holding a whole tray of shots, and before you could duck, he grabbed you by the waist so that you were leaning against him with no quantifiable space between your bodies. Your eyes widened in shock and you froze, your thoughts clouded by the familiar smell of rain in a bamboo forest during Maytime. “T-thanks…”

He hummed in response to your gratitude, but he didn’t let you go. “I didn’t know you enjoyed places like this, too.”

“Why is that?” you asked, feigning ignorance to how close you two were.

"I never pinned you for the party animal type. I kinda developed a fondness for that quiet, nerdy girl sitting at the corner of the pub."

"Not exactly. I prefer Maki's place to be honest but coming here once in a while doesn't hurt. Especially with those three." You frowned slightly at him then as you thought of something. “So, why didn’t you approach me?” You motioned towards the dancefloor. “I'm sure the three-headed monster won't mind if you joined us. You alone?”

“Yes, sweetheart, but aren't you supposed to be hanging out with them?" You grabbed his arm before he could refuse you and started leading him towards where the others were.

However, he had other plans in mind. Again, he hooked an arm around your waist until your back was leaning against him. You eyed him sideways, startled by his actions, but unable to counteract it anyway as you’re just stunned speechless all the while. “You can go back to them, Y/N, but I don’t think I should go with you.”

You turned around, gently easing away from his hold. “Why not? They already know you, and they like you.”

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a party pooper.” He leaned towards you, tilting his head to the side while his lower lip slightly jutted out.

"What are you talking about?” You rolled your eyes at him then snickered.

He eyed you seriously then. “Just in case this is a friends-only affair?”

“Satoru already ruined that by bringing his girls into the mix.” You laughed at him when you saw him hesitate. “Come on, Sukuna. Join us. For me?” You showed him your best impression of puppy-dog eyes. “Pretty please?”

When you saw that he wasn’t budging, you changed your argument. “Fine. Dance with me then.” You didn’t give him any time to contradict you as you took him by the hand and dragged him to the dancefloor.

He was just standing still, looking uncomfortable as you started to groove to the beat, so you took his arms and started moving them until he was moving on his own, finally breaking into that smile. He looked too awkward that you wanted to laugh but decided against it, simply raising your hands and feeling the music.

“Aren’t you having fun?” you asked him as you were bobbing your head to the bass.

“I am!” he answered above the music.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun. Are you shy?” You chuckled openly at that.

“No.”

“You don’t dance?”

“I can dance.”

You giggled. “Then show me what you’ve got!”

Without a warning, he started moving in sync with you, taking your hands in his and finally letting loose in such a graceful manner as you both got into the beat and started waving and swaying against one another, his hands slowly running at your sides in sensual rhythms that got you reeling in excitement. You almost forgot that you were with other people as you danced with him. It was fun and it felt good to be that carefree, not minding your friends, drinks flowing in nonstop.

Soon, the group you’ve left joined you and Sukuna. They all greeted him excitedly while the boys exchanged high-fives with him as they were dancing. Satoru and the two girls who were with him also joined in and somewhere along that, Suguru offered everyone cigarettes, and you gladly took one when you saw Sukuna taking one as well. You didn’t really smoke on a regular basis but you didn’t exactly shy away from the so-called cancer sticks.

After taking another shot, you pulled Sukuna out of the dancefloor, hollering at the others as you raised your cigarette, signaling where you were going in case they wanted to come with. You made your way to the smoking area at the veranda situated at the back of the building with the older male in tow. You were pretty much buzzed, calming down from the high you had while dancing, grinning wide as the cool night air met you, making your lungs expand as you breathed in.

Sukuna watched you as he took his place against the banister, following him shortly as you produced a lighter from your pocket, something that you always carried just in case.

“You smoke?” he asked, toying with his own battered stick, twirling it around his long fingers.

“Sometimes,” you admitted, watching his reaction. “And you?”

“Not really.”

“You took one anyway.” You wedged the item in question between your lips and raised the lighter, but before you could light it, it was pulled out from your mouth and the next thing you knew, Sukuna was kissing you, his lips pressed against yours as he pulled you closer by the hips which he seemed to have a fixation for since you came up to him. It was a soft yet urgent kiss that cajoled you to respond, and not long after, your lips were submissive clouds moving to the will of the wind that was his luscious mouth.

Like the first time you felt his lips against yours, electricity ran through your body as if he was touching you elsewhere apart from your mouth. It was driving you off the edge of sanity, and you knew you’d probably jump off a cliff for the male. He grinned at your dazed state when your eyes met after he finally pulled away, showing you the cigarette that was supposed to be between your lips before he unceremoniously laid claim to them.

“You’re going to ruin your lips by smoking. I’m keeping this,” he told you.

You were too mesmerized with the tingling feeling in your mouth while your eyes stayed glued to his as you blinked slowly, your mind and heart racing at a thousand miles per second. “W-why would you do that?” you stammered, feeling your throat go so dry that you had to drag the words out.

“Apart from the fact that it’s terribly unhealthy, it ruins your sense of smell and taste.” He waved the cigarette in front of you before shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “Scientific fact.”

You couldn’t quite process what he was saying. You were asking why he kissed you, but he misunderstood. “Are you going to taser me with your lips every single time I’m about to smoke?”

“Taser…” He chuckled and narrowed his eyes at you. “I might just if it means these dangerous things don’t touch your pretty mouth.”

“What the –” You didn’t know if you would be scandalized by what he said or if you were going to laugh. The latter won and you tittered. “That’s a good one.”

“I mean it, Y/N.”

Boldness engulfed your whole thought process as you stepped closer to him, looking straight into his eyes. “And if I insist on it? Placing dangerous things in my pretty mouth? What are you going to do then?”

He, too, leaned forward, eyes flicking to your lips. “Then I guess I just have to keep your mouth too busy to even think about smoking again,” he whispered to you, his breath hitting your lips.

You smirked at him then. “I guess I just have to make sure you aren’t around if I do feel like smoking.”

He pouted. You burst out laughing.

You reached over and pinched both of his cheeks. “You’re so adorable.”

Sukuna swatted your hands away, but smiled nonetheless. "You're the only one who says I'm adorable."

"You are. You just don't know it."

“Okay then. If you say so.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear then, your skin tingling where he touched you. “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“Not really.”

“Good. I wanna do something for you.”

You eyed him questioningly. “Hmm. What?”

“That’s a surprise.”

It was already around two in the morning when everyone had the unanimous decision to leave the club which was still packed. You, too, were getting tired especially after Ieiri ended up hammered and Satoru was emptying his guts through his mouth. Suguru was a bit drunk, too, but he was trying his best to help you take care of them. Sukuna had been very nice all night, even helping you load Satoru and Ieiri into the backseat of Suguru’s car.

“Would you like me to drive you home?” he asked you after shutting the door to the backseat.

“No, I’m gonna be fine. Besides, I can’t just leave Suguru to deal with them both.” You motioned to his Jeep. “You should go ahead, too.”

Sukuna grimaced as he nodded. “I guess that would be for the best. Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay. You take good care now.”

“You, too, sweetheart.” He stepped forward and pulled you against him, hugging you, enveloping you in his warmth and that scent you loved profusely. “It’s really great seeing you tonight.”

You returned the gesture, smiling up at him as you tried to compose yourself. “It’s great seeing you, too.” You stood on your toes and pecked him on the cheek before giving him a gentle shove towards the car. “See you, Sukuna.”

He waved at you then boarded the car. You watched as it disappeared down the street before turning away to enter the club to get Suguru who was left to settle the bills. You found him seated on one of the couches, finding your way easily since the crowd thinned a bit.

“You okay, dude?” you asked when you reached him. He was pale and he looked like he was going to throw up anytime. “Do you need to go to the restroom?”

He shook his head. “Just get me out of here.”

You chuckled, leading him faster out of the club. You sat him down on passenger side and soothed his back, asking after him again as you started the engine. He said he was fine, laughing when he caught a glimpse of the two who were already passed out on the backseat with Satoru lying on Ieiri’s lap while her head was lolling limply to the side.

The drive was rather short without much cars on the road, but Suguru was still able to squeeze in a conversation, and of all the topics he could broach, it had to be about Sukuna.

“I thought Sukuna will be driving you home,” he began, glancing at you.

“He offered, but I can’t just leave you.”

“That would have been okay.” He glanced at the rearview mirror then, checking on the two, you could only guess. He could be such a mother hen at times. “I think he’s cool.”

“Mhmm.”

“And he’s really good-looking,” Suguru threw in with a chuckle. “Just date already.”

You chuckled. “Why don’t you date him instead?”

“Don’t you want to try it out with him?”

“He hasn’t even asked me to date him.”

“Yeah, but he already kissed you –”

“How did you know about that?” you demanded, mortified. Your cheeks were heating up again at the memory of it.

“Well, you’re in a public place.” He laughed. “So, it’s bound to end in dating anyway.”

“Not necessarily.” You turned sideways to look at him. “He’s older after all, not that I see the age gap as a problem. But you know, he might just be passing time.”

“He obviously likes you. If you date him, it’s a win-win situation. You like him, too, you just don’t know it.”

You scoffed. “How can you say that?”

He blew a raspberry. Typical Suguru behavior. “You can be yourself around him. You’re all smiley face around him, too. I saw you. You can’t lie to me.”

“Really now?”

“Yeah. You look your best that way. And don’t ever think you are just a pastime. I’ll kill him if he treats you as such.” He smiled knowingly at you. “Besides, you should date properly. Enough with your flings with stupid boys in campus.”

“Okay, dad.” You sighed, trying to contain your excitement. “I do like him though. He’s so nice to me.”

Suguru reached over patting you on the shoulder. “Ah! My daughter is a grown-woman.”

You swatted at his hand, laughing at his antics.

-end of part 1-

If you're curious who Howard Roark is, he's one of my fave literary characters from Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead." He's excellently made. That's it.

Can architect!sukuna please call me "sweetheart," too?

If you want to be included in the tag list, please DM me :) I'll be posting every week (or I'll try to anyway). Someone remind me to post the next chapters please?

Additional notes are available in the masterlist, particularly on the reasons why I wrote some things the way I did. I don't know what I'm trying to prove there, but haha!

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210618]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES FULLY CREDITED TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

[spinster-sisters]

Criminal. khj

TW: Violence kinda, weapons kinda, illegal stuff obviously, exhibitionism, marking, posesiveness, gang? au? possibly, I honestly dont know what this is.

WC: 6k

I normally dont do summaries but I got a funny one:

You and your boyfriend escape a bank robbery.

-

The toe of your shoe clicks against the marble floor as you tap your foot. Across the room, high up on the wall there is an analog clock ticking down the seconds. It’s getting late, and the bank teller couldn’t be going any slower. Only two people ahead of you now.

You check your phone for the fifth time in the past 10 minutes, no update. Must not be running as late as you thought. You shift your weight to your other foot only to start taping once again. Ok sure, you weren’t late, it doesn’t mean you like how long this damn lady is taking.

The line moves up as the teller begins helping the next person. You attempt to swallow your impatience as best you can, pulling out your phone again to quickly slide between apps, but the longer you stand there the louder the ticking of the clock seems to echo around the room.

Looking away from your device, you take another look around the room. Nothing has changed since you came in. In between the doors and the lines, there was a seating area filled with two uncomfortable-looking couches facing each other and a coffee table between them. There were still 3 tellers sitting at their desks, 10 customers in line counting you. Two in the first line, three in the second, yourself, and two others in the last. About as busy as you would expect at this time of day. But the waiting still sucked.

Finally, you hear the teller ask “is there anything else I can help you with?” And you know that soon it will be your turn at the window. Pulling out your phone again you shoot a quick text.

[ it’s my turn next, hopefully, I’ll be out of here soon ]

1:24pm

Just as the woman in front of you steps away a notification dings on your phone.

[ See you soon ;) ]

1:25pm

You sighed at your boyfriend's message, thinking the winky face was a bit on the nose for your taste. But Hongjoong liked to tease.

Dropping your phone back into your pocket, you look up just as the teller motions you forward. The click of your shoe against the tile seems almost deafening in the quiet room as you step forward, trying to mask the small smile Hongjoong’s message had given you.

“what can I help you with today?” The lady at the counter-question with subdued chirpiness. Clearly, she has had a long day, already ready for it to be over. The thought made you wince.

“Hi, there seems to be a problem with the direct deposit on my account. My last paycheck didn’t go in.” You start, placing both hands on the counter.

The teller nods, with mock understanding, clearly just an impulse for years of customer service. Somewhere outside several car doors slam, but no one inside seems to notice the sound.

“Could I have the number of the account?” The teller asks, placing both hands on the keyboard and frowning at the screen, prepared to type whatever comes out of your mouth. You don’t have time to say it.

All the lights on the monitor suddenly shut off. The woman helping you looks taken aback for a second, looking over to her coworkers only to see them doing the same. The hairs on the back of your neck shoot up as nerves build in your stomach.

The next thing happens so quickly you barely register it. The glass door slides open and a metal canister flies into the room. Acting on instinct your hands fly to your ears, your eyes screwed shut, and you drop to your knees. Even with your ears covered it does little to silence the ear-splitting bang that rips through the room. It sends the rest of the room's inhabitants to the floor seconds after you, either from shock or from the disorienting mix of light and sound that came from the small device.

Flashbang.

Your heart jumps up to your throat. You open your eyes but did not let your hands drop just yet. The ring was still sounding in the room, but the blinding light had gone. Just as the last of the ringing fizzled out the doors slid open again.

A group of masked figures took confident strides into the room. Your eyes searched the street behind them, looking for anyone who might notice what’s going on. There was no one. Your stomach dropped again. The others in the room finally seemed to be regaining their hearing and sight, only to shriek when the men came into view. Swallowing your nerves you do a headcount of the patrons. Three tellers, ten customers including yourself. All adults, no children. That was good, children would cause problems.

After assessing the situation and taking a few deep breaths, you look over to the group of men who were starting to spread out around the room. The more you looked at them the more frightening they appeared. Each of the men were were dressed head to toe in black with a mask covering the bottom half of their faces, but even as you sized them up you avoided looking at their eyes, drawing attention to yourself now would be stupid.

Every one of them carried a gun. But as they fanned out across the room only one had it pointed. The same one that spoke.

“Anyone not on the ground better get that way. We don’t have all day.” The voice that spoke was calm but had a clear edge. The tones meaning ran clear in your ears as much as everyone else’s, calm does not mean forgiving. You kept your head down, trying your best to sink into the shadows trying to avoid drawing attention to yourself, that’s what people always said to do right?

You heard a few thuds as the few people in the room who remained standing dropped to the floor. None of the other patrons or staff said a word. Thank god, fighting would make this much more difficult.

“Great, now I want everyone’s hands on the ground in front of them. Try to call anyone and one of us will put a new hole in your head, so why don’t we make this easy and nobody make a sound.” The voice continued in that same tone. Your eyes shot up to make sure everyone was following orders as you placed your own hands on the cold tile next to your bare knees, they were already getting stiff and you hoped this would be over quickly.

A few of the men began walking through the people on the floor, hands on their guns but not drawn, checking just as you did that everyone was behaving. As one of the taller ones drifted toward your spot you stared at the same tile a few feet ahead of you, matching the other patrons around you.

You heard the heavy thuds of footsteps as they paused in front of you, just for a moment. You felt the gaze burn into the top of your skull as you stared forward, holding your breath.

“You don’t look nearly scared enough.” The new voice spoke, completely nonchalant. The next moment, a heavy leather boot pressed down onto your hand, crushing it against the tile. You winced and let out a small cry as pain shot up your arm. It stung as he dug his foot harder onto your hand. Both hands started to shake as the pain built, the knot that had formed in your chest from the moment the flash-bang fell through the air tightened till your breath became choked and shaky. Suddenly the pressure was gone.

“Much better,” the voice all but giggled before moving on.

You took a heaving breath as soon as the boots left your field of vision. You felt sweat start to form on your brow bone. You looked up again. A few terrified faces of other patrons looked at you with fear, clearly expecting that the man was going to blow your head off.

The man who spoke first stepped forward and motioned to the middle teller who was watching petrified from behind his desk, head barely peeking over the edge.

“You,” he started again, taking long strides across the room, walking within a few feet from you on your right side to the opening that led behind the counter, “Why don’t you show me to the safe?” He asked, voice still disconcertingly cordial. The teller gapped for a moment, and the man tilted his head expectantly. The teller stumbled to his feet, eyes not moving from the shiny gun trained on him. He did little more than gesture vaguely for the man to follow him before they both disappeared behind the doors that lead to the back of the bank, 2 of the other men followed behind him.

The room was stiff with tension. For the patrons at least. All of you seemed to be holding your breath, but the men could not seem calmer. Their postures were relaxed, many of them had their arms crossed over their chest or were leaning against furniture. None of them even had their weapons drawn, but they were still visible. Enough to keep everyone shaking with fear with their heads down. It was bizarre but effective for the time being.

Your head was absolutely swimming. Trying to keep notice of the positions of everyone in the room, taking shooting glances around for a few seconds at a time, checking the faces of your fellow hostages. Everyone knows in situations like this it’s best to just comply, you sure fucking hoped the others knew that as well. You tried to lead by example anyway. And then there were the men. You didn’t dare look any one of them in the eye, knowing what kind of consequences that would bring. But you tried to keep tabs on them. They weren’t moving much in the few minutes since the three men disappeared with the teller, but any slight movement they gave was noteworthy into your mind. You had to keep things under control.

The minutes ticked on in almost complete silence, save for the one man who was humming of all things. How could they possibly be relaxed right now you did not know. The sound was harsh against your ears for how gentle it was, it kept distracting you from your thoughts.

The thought in question was a dangerous one. Your back was beginning to ache from being hunched over and your palms were sweating uncomfortably against the marble. From where you sat against the furthest teller window you were blocked from the direct view of every robber by either furniture or walls. What you wanted to do was risky, any slight movement on their behaves would land you in their line of sight. That was an opportunity for anyone who could take it.

You need to text Hongjoong. He needed to know what was going on. You watched the men carefully for the next few minutes, looking for any sign that they might start looking around, but they all seemed perfectly content in their places. With a shaking hand, you slowly began reaching into your pocket. You managed to pull the device out without anyone noticing, but as you slid it into your lap and under your shirt one of the other patrons saw, and their eyes shot wide open. Shit.

They looked at you with frantic, pleading eyes that screamed call for help. They were looking too obvious. You swallowed and shook your head, trying to get them to look away, but they didn’t.

“Heads down,” a deep voice called. Both you and the other patron snapped your eyes to the floor, but after listening for a few seconds it didn’t sound like anyone was moving toward you. You were still blocked from view. With a shaky breath, you slowly pulled the phone out. Unlocking it silently, you pressed on the messages app.

“Well, what’s this?”

Dread shot through you. The man had reappeared from the back, slinking quietly to your side somehow without you noticing. Your head shot up to look at him as he stood, barely 5 feet away from you staring down at your phone. The entire room's attention was now on you. You felt your blood freeze in your veins as the eyes above the mask narrowed into a glare. You didn’t even move to hide the phone, you didn’t move to do anything. You just sat there, staring dumbly back into his eyes. You heard the distant sounds of fear from the hostages and soft chuckles from the men.

The bag he had slung over his shoulder was tossed to the nearest member of his crew, the two that had followed him into the back of the back reappeared, took one look at the scene, one shaking his head before they both carried on out the door with the three bags.

A hand shot into your hair, grabbing it by the roots and pulling you to your feet. Your scalp burned, the pain was so sharp and sudden your eyes screwed shut and you lost Yoruba balance. Disoriented, you let out a shriek at the pain and if it weren’t for the grip on your head you would have fallen right back down. The phone was ripped from your hand. The man slid his hand from your hair to grasp the back of your neck firmly as he looked over the screen. When your eyes opened he was scrolling through the messages from half a moment before laughing a full and wicked laugh.

“Texting your boyfriend? How cute.” He all but cackled. He observed your face, your eyes hard and pricked with tears, and he giggled again. Shoving your phone into his pocket, he motioned to the others before pulling you towards the door. You stumbled over your legs multiple times, letting out cries and hisses as you went but doing little to resist.

The other hostages, let out distraught sobs but you blocked them out, their sympathy would do nothing for you now.

You were pulled out of the building at the same moment the sound of engines roared to life. In one quick glacé you saw that the street was still deserted.

Your back was slammed against the wall of the bank, just out of view of those inside and the barrel of the man's gun was trained on you. You shut your eyes tight.

You heard a bang. And the wailing cries of the hostages inside.

Then familiar lips crashed onto yours. It wasn’t really a kiss, more of a peck. The man's lips moved against yours for only a few seconds, so little you had no time to react before they were gone.

You opened your eyes. His mask was pulled back up, and he had taken a step back. His gun was already holstered at his side.

You didn’t have to see the bottom half of the man's face to know he was smirking. You pushed yourself off the wall and glared at him. At that moment two cars pulled out of the parking lot, one stopping directly in front of you. With a huff you pushed past the man who you could almost guarantee was still grinning.

Opening the door you slid into the backseat against the far window and crossed your arms over your chest. Seconds later the man got in and closed the door. And you were off.

“Come on your not actually mad are you,” he giggled, pulling down his mask.

“You damn near pulled my hair out Hongjoong! Of course, I’m mad!” You spat. You heard the two in the front seat chuckle.

“Oh don’t think you're off the hook Yunho. What the fuck was that? Since when was breaking my hand apart of the plan?” You hollered, kicking your foot against his seat. This only lead to more giggling. You resiliently stared forward, not looking at to boyfriend. He didn’t seem bothered by this in the slightest. Hongjoong slid across the back seat to wrap an arm over your shoulder that even in your rage you didn’t have the heart to shake off.

“But it’s not like I was lying! You looked way too calm. If any of them had looked at you it would have been obvious something was up.” Yunho defended, gesturing with the hand, not on the steering wheel.

“Come on, darling. You know we have to make it believable. I can’t have my best spy get their cover blown because I’m too gentle with you.” The arm around your shoulder tightened, urging you to look at him. Finally, you turned to him, smiling at you so brightly you’d think you were on a friendly road trip.

“Besides, I thought you liked it when I pulled your hair?” Hongjoong said with a cheeky wink. At that Wooyoung howled with laughter from the front seat. You blushed crimson and promptly reached your foot over to kick his seat as well.

“Oh shut up. You were going overboard and you know it.” You grumbled with much less enthusiasm. Hongjoong smiles softly at your pout before leaning back in his seat, giving you a bit more space. Comfortable silence lasted only a few minutes as you drove on before Hongjoong spoke up again.

“Why did you pull your phone out anyway? That was dumb, even if you are on our side.” He asked, fingers rubbing circles comfortingly against your shoulder. You sighed.

“Because the rest of the boys fucked up.” You replied plainly, but still easing into your boyfriend's touch. Both Yunho and Wooyoung made offended noises from the front seat, but you carried on.

“The way they were positioned was wrong. There were blind spots, several actually. You’re just lucky I was the only person in one. I figured I should let you know in case it became a problem.” You continued.

“Hmm,” Hongjoong muttered. While he heard the sound of your voice, you doubted he was listening, as his hand instead taken to playing with your fingers in your lap.

“Isn’t the whole idea of having someone undercover on the inside, so they can tell us where the blind spots are?” Wooyoung asked from the front seat, still clearly offended at your statement.

“I told Yeosang, it’s not my fault you guys planned to take him in the safe this time instead of keeping him in the lobby like always.”You shot back. But even that was half-hearted. Your body really did ache after being hunched on the hard ground for 10 minutes without moving, and the comforting touch of your boyfriend's hands made you melt into the seat, all the tension and worrying about ways it could go wrong eased off your body in waves.

You all could talk about how it went and what needed to be tweaked next time later, right now you just wanted to rest. Hongjoong pulled you against his chest by your shoulder sensing your quick drop in energy.

Just as you were about to doze off a thought popped into your head.

“Hongjoong?”

You could feel the hum he gave in response against your cheek, telling you to continue.

“Are you sure you should have pretended to shoot me? I mean, best case scenario local police add murder onto our rap list. Worst, they find out you have a man on the inside. Either one is bad.” You murmur into his chest. Your group had never killed before as there had never been any need to, and it wasn’t something that any of you really wanted to do.

“That’s only a problem if they catch us.” He replied. Sounding, as always, perfectly certain of himself.

-

Living like this had its pros and cons, much like anything else. The main con being having to drive long ways away for jobs, just as a way to keep yourself safe. Which sometimes meant pulling over on the side of the road at any ditch or shitty motel for the night before getting back to your homes.

As your vehicles pulled into a run-down motel about a mile off the main highway, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had gone into the lobby parading as drunk college students on a road trip to rent the rooms for the night. Needless to say, it had been a long day, the other boys meandered to their rooms and probably fell asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows. But not you.

You had been patiently waiting on the hood of the car you arrived in, for the moment Hongjoong got back. And when he did reappear and the others disappeared, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to go lay down as quickly as they did.

As the crunch of their footsteps on gravel faded till they were indoors, you turned your head upwards to the sky. It was late at night and in the middle of nowhere like this, you could see millions more stars than in your home. Hongjoong kept his place, leaning on the car hood next to where you sat, looking up as well but not at the infinite sky like you. No, he was watching your face.

You don’t know exactly how long you sat there, looking up at the sky but you know your neck had begun to ache when Hongjoong finally pulled himself onto the hood of the car next to you. You naturally came to rest your head on his shoulder, still looking up at the stars, but now in your peripheral vision, you could still see Hongjoong studying your expression carefully.

“Something on your mind?” You ask in a quiet voice, still looking up. Hongjoong stirred, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You tear your gaze from the stars to look at him. The moon cast a pearly light on his face that in your eyes made him glow.

“Sometimes I think I ruined you,” though his words were serious the giggle he gave at the end showed he had no real remorse. You still scoffed.

“I was a criminal long before I meet you Kim Hongjoong, don’t go thinking you

drastically changed the course of my life.” You reply in a dry tone, even if he was joking, it was still a point you wanted to drive home. He had no reason to be guilty with how you turned out, you were probably safer with him and the others than where you were before. He laughed at you again.

Hongjoong laughed at everything. And his laugh was one of the best things about him. Looking at him now, it gets harder and harder to imagine what your life would have been like without him.

“Babe, you were a petty thief, I turned you into a serial bank robber. I consider that pretty drastic.” He shot back, reaching up to pretend to fix your hair.

“If it wasn’t you, it would have been somebody else, and between us? I’m glad it was you.” Your words came out slightly more sentimental than you had anticipated and when Hongjoong fell silent next to you, you promptly blushed and turned back to the stars.

You and Hongjoong very rarely spoke about stuff like this. Even if neither of you would ever admit it, the truth of living life like this is that all it takes is one day, one mistake, for the family you created and the life you live to come crashing down around you. The span of a few minutes could be the difference between running off into the sunset and quite literally never seeing each other again. And after the slight hiccup, you had today that only you had noticed at first, that thought was at the forefront of your mind.

So basically you liked to live in the moment.

It was quiet for a few minutes, him watching you and you watching the sky. There was a very slight breeze in the air, but the summer air was made it more of a gentle cool wind than an uncomfortable chill.

“It’s getting late, you should go to sleep,” Hongjoong muttered. Quieter than his usual quip.

“I slept in the car.” You replied easily. Which was true, and while that nap had been anything but restful with the constant bumps in the road, he didn’t need to know that.

“Oh well, here I was trying to get you in bed but I guess you don’t want to.” He sighed, regaining some of the playfulness from earlier while running a teasing hand up your spine. It gave you shivers, but you had no desire to give in to him so easily.

“Who says we need a bed?” You ask matter of factly. Turning to give him the same wink he had laid on you earlier in the day. Jobs like the one you did today always put you on edge, no matter how many times you did it. Unlike the rest of them, it took you hours to fully relax and admit safety enough to let your guard down. You would never call Hongjoong carefree, but he did have a habit of trying to jump you the moment you were a safe distance away. Hongjoong leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Are you asking me to take you on the hood of this car? Because trust me, darling, I would.” Shivers his your spine once again, but you weren’t quite down bantering yet. You turned your head away from him to look at the beat-up old motel and the deserted parking lot you sat in. Motioning to it all you replied.

“Is this the most romantic place you could find?” You ask, each word oozing with how unimpressed you were by the scenery. At that Hongjoong placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up to look at the millions of shining stars once again. You could feel his next words before they came.

“I don’t know, I think I did a pretty good job.”

It’s true, looking straight up and nowhere else gave the impression that you were sitting on the top of a mountain, the entire world below you and nothing but heaven above. Cheesy, but effective.

Hongjoong accurately assumed your silence meant he had won. Pushing you by your shoulder till your back hit the cool metal, your eyes stayed trained on the sky above. Your legs hung over the front of the car, pushed up only slightly till you lay with most of your body on the hood. Hongjoong’s moonlight face still hung in your peripheral, hanging over you slightly.

You stared straight into the sky as Hongjoong slung his body over yours, trapping your hips to the metal with his own.

“Please tell me you're not going to be super dramatic about this?” You as with your last dreg of defiance. He smirked at you.

“Babe, this is going to be the most dramatic moment of your life.”

And with that, Hongjoong leaned down over you, connecting your lips with a heated kiss. Your arms automatically slung around his neck, pulling him closer. Your breath hitched almost immediately, feeling all strength leave your body as you melted into the kiss. Hongjoong took time to switch between a long slow-paced drag of his lips across yours, to nipping and sucking gently at your bottom lip as he pleased. The air no longer seemed like a necessity, when staying like this forever got more and more appealing.

Running his lips down to your jaw you almost rolled your eyes when you felt Hongjoong suck a rather impressively sized hickey right onto the underside of your jaw. It would perfectly match the fading ones that dotted your collar bones and the base of your neck, though the placement of this one would be much more visible.

Hongjoong’s hand took hold of your waist, slipping his fingers under the hem of your shirt and pushing it to bunch up over your chest, exposing you to the cool night air. He hadn’t removed it completely, but nonetheless he leaned back to admire. The ghost of a smirk wormed its way onto his lips as he ran his soft fingertips along the marks he gave you.

Staring at the ones lower on your stomach, trailing up your body with feather light touches. Your eyes screwed shut when he brushed over the ones on your breast. The bra you had been wearing today was nothing special, if not a little plain, but you could barely stand the heat of his gaze as it traveled up your body along with his hand.

Eventually, he reached the newest addition to the collection of purple splotches on your body. Cupping your cheek with his hand he urged your eyes open.

“I go through all this work to get you out under the stars and here you are with your eyes closed. That’s rude of you.” He stated with an exaggerated frown.

“It’s rude to tease,” you tried to sound as playful as him, but it came out as more of a whine. He giggled at you and carried on.

“I’m not teasing, I’m admiring. Now let me continue or you’ll get nothing.” He replies sternly. The mood suddenly shifting as the sparkle in his eye shifted to a darker hungrier look. You gulped slightly before letting your head fall back against the metal to stare up at the sky again. You felt Hongjoong’s mouth on your body again. His warm lips giving new life to some of the more faded marks on your chest. The cool air suddenly felt incredibly hot as your boyfriend's hands ran up and down your sides, occasionally stopping to squeeze whatever flesh he could grasp. Each time pulled another sound past your lips, although you did your best to muffle them.

“You look so pretty like this baby,” he remarked, barely pulling away, “I want to hear how pretty you sound too.”

It wasn’t spoken like a command, but you took it as one. Letting your mouth hang open in a moan when Hongjoong took one of your breasts in his palm, kneeling it slightly before pulling your bra down just enough to free it. He wasted no time in dragging his tongue over your nipple, then sweeping back down to suck a mark directly on the underside of your boob.

Your legs clenched together as he worked, the small amount of friction it gave in your shorts only served to drive you to more extremes when you rolled your hips against his. You groaned startlingly loud at that, the sensation of his hard dick pressing against your core even through the denim of both your pants pulled wetness from your core quicker than you would ever care to admit.

Hongjoong pulled away with a laugh, sitting up straight to look down at your already keening expression.

“Calm down baby, we have all night. No need to rush.” He chuckled at you. Despite his words, he took almost immediate action, running his hands up your bare thighs till his fingers hook on the waistband of your shorts. He pulled them down, but only just enough. Slipping his hand between your legs to cup your heat, while palming himself over his jeans. You whined again and clamped your legs around his hand, holding it in place. Despite your body’s subconscious efforts, he slid his finger over your cunt through your damp underwear.

Under any other circumstances, it would have been incredibly embarrassing how wet he made you from just touches to your body, but at the moment all you could think about was how desperately you wanted him to continue.

“Your soaking wet already, it feels like cheating with how quickly your body reacts to me.” He mutters, pressing two fingers against your hole, with nothing but a thin scrap of fabric keeping them from pushing inside you.

“Hongjoong, please fuck me. I’m begging you.” You groan, rolling your hips against his hand repeatedly. He broke out in a wide smile.

“I like the sound of you begging. Do it again for me.” He commands, voice laced with honey. You took a shuddering breath, turning your eyes to meet his with a pleading look.

“Please, I need you to fuck me.” You beg with all the desperation you have.

“Oh course baby, all you had to do was ask.” He lilts, tilting his head to the side with a sickly sweet smile.

Hongjoong pulled his hand from your core, which left an unhappy feeling in your stomach. But he used said hand to assist in pulling his dick free of his pants which spurred your legs even further apart. Your hands had been hanging uselessly at your side since this all began but as he leaned over your body once again, staring straight down into your wanton face, your hands flung themselves behind his shoulder to hang off of him.

Hongjoong pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, running it through your folds twice, watching as your face shifted from bliss to desperation each time he almost slipped in. And of course, he laughed. But that was the last bit of torture he gave you before sinking into your cunt.

Your synchronized groans sounded throughout the empty parking lot when he finally filled you to the hilt. And with his own patients starting to run as thin as yours he wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting again.

Your back arched more each time he pushed into you, feeling him stretching your walls and brush against the most sensitive spots inside you made your toes curl. And as he began to build pace his deep pants and groans rang in your ears.

He was doing anything but going fast. Long hard and deep thrusts shook your body in a steady rhythm. Your nails dig into his shoulders through his shirt and your mouth hung open as he fucked into you.

“Come on baby, you're not that far gone already are you?” His voice carried a teasing tone, but his own breath had gone shaky. You both stared into each other’s faces, watching each other’s expressions shift with bliss at every thrust. You were moaning and whining freely now. Words have failed you.

You felt the muscles on Hongjoong’s shoulder strain beneath your fingers, and with your orgasm fast approaching your nails practically clawed down his back. Hongjoong hissed above you, but the action did nothing but spur him on.

“Your gonna cum baby? Gonna cum already on my cock? How desperate you must be, to let a criminal have his way with you like this.” He growled the words down at you. His words shot to your core, making you clench around him, with a whine you forced words past your lips.

“I don’t care, just want you.” The words were barely a whisper. But the effect was the same. With a ringing cry, you came undone underneath him. You shook and threw your head back, staring directly into the stars above you. Your body moved of its own accord, but that was all beyond you. The only thing you could think about was the look on Hongjoong’s stunning face as he came hovering above you.

You both basked in the feeling of waves of pleasure rolling over your bodies. Continuing to grind against each other subconsciously as you rode it out.

The cool air returned with a nip. Hongjoong had all but collapsed above you. As you came back to reality the cold metal of the car suddenly felt so comfortable you could fall asleep right there. You felt your eyes being to drift shut.

“Oh no baby, I’m taking you to bed for real this time.” Hongjoong chuckled, pulling himself up to look down at you again. He gave a small smile at your pout.

“Your pretty cute for a dangerous criminal.”

You gathered up the last of your strength to hit him on the shoulder.

-

and this my friends is why I dont make a habit of writing longer things, they just get away from me.

I meant for this to be a short hot sexy lil thing and it turned into this long ass sappy thing

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

“Thanks, I owe you guys one.” (Fellowship x Reader)

Synopsis: you’re being chased by men who enjoy hunting down humans, but fortunately, you run right into the middle of the Fellowship’s camp.

The night was dark and barren throughout its snowy wasteland—a temporary home for the Fellowship to call that evening, as they set up camp around a flickering fire at the base of a pine tree-lined slope.

Low hushes made their way across the cold camp, as each tired member spoke of their glum day through the snow. They had since trekked through the forest to find their little snowy slope—a haven for mortal and immortal eyes alike to observe the stars above.

It was almost as if you could see them clearer in the piercing cold, Pippin mused at one point. Legolas softly agreed, and confirmed that to be true.

However, for all the distant howls of wolves and hoots of owls, none could possibly expect nor imagine what was happening on the other side of the slope.

Y/n ran desperately through the snow, chattering through her teeth as every inch of the white powder slowed her down. The stars above taunted her and reminded the girl of another wasted night.

Three days she had been on the run from these cruel hunters—hunters well-versed in the game of mounting human heads on their log cabin walls.

Naturally, as to be expected of a fatigued human, Y/n’s strength failed.

She could hear the thudding of the hunters’ dogs behind her—gaining with every second she slowed. They were unmistakably some variation of wolves, as evident from the gnashing teeth and vicious growls.

She next made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. She barely had time to dodge, as a homemade arrow whizzed past her ear. It caught the flesh and produced a new wound. It matched the dripping gash on her temple, leaving a clear trail of red in the white for them to track.

A sharp gasp escaped Y/n, as she ignored the arrow and instead paid attention to what it meant—they were gaining on her, and very fast, too.

“You can run, but you can’t hide!” one of the cruel men laughed out. He had his bow forever ready in his hands, always pointed at Y/n.

The other two also had bows, as well as long hunting knives. They glinted bright in the moonlight, brighter than the teeth of the wolves.

Y/n willed her legs to go faster up the slope, praying for it to descend soon. However, the snow was thick—up to her knees. She would not go any faster, not at this rate.

“Back off, you spooky bastards!” Y/n shouted in vain. It sounded more annoyed at this point, though, but fear was evident in her tone.

At the bottom of the slope, Legolas lifted his head and knitted his brows. He sat on a log before the fire, and looked at all his friends to see if they had heard what he did.

Aragorn caught his blonde friend’s antics, and questioned him aloud. “Legolas, what do you sense?”

At this, all in the camp lifted their own heads, and paid attention to the elf.

“Foul language and foul omens approaching,” he replied.

Legolas threw a glance over his shoulder and up at the slope, where he eyed it off apprehensively. With the dawning of hunting howls, he quickly shot to his feet, as did everyone else in the camp.

“Is it wargs?” Boromir asked, breathlessly.

“No,” Gandalf answered, drawing his staff at the ready. “These are no wargs…but they are not entirely friendly, either.”

The Fellowship, practiced in their stances, formed a protective huddle around the hobbits, and drew all their weapons. Their eyes, either wide in alarm or narrowed with precision, sized up the snowy slope, where the howls were growing from.

Now at the top, Y/n gasped—for two reasons. At the same time a wolf lunged at her from behind, she tripped over her feet, and fell down the long slope. The wolf did the same and skidded to the side.

Both tried desperately to find their footing again, to which Y/n did. She ran down the snow at a rapid pace, yelping with every snap at her ankle.

“There!” Gimli shouted, pointing up at the approaching girl.

“Shoot the wolf, Legolas!” Aragorn ordered.

In a swift manner, Legolas did as told. The next yelp upon the slope came not from Y/n, but from the nearest wolf, as it tumbled down the slope behind her—dead and leaving a reddened trail of its own.

Y/n caught this exchange and snapped her gaze down at the campfire. Before she could register the ushering hands of the hobbits for her to hurry towards them, the shouts of the men from atop the slope caught her ears.

Her heart hastened in its pace, as did her legs, as she realized they were angrier than ever at the shooting of their hound. They yelled louder and drew more arrows, running faster now downhill to catch up with her.

Y/n looked away from the men and continued running down the hill, where she soon met a flatter surface again. With the acceleration of her descent thrusting through her legs, Y/n, melting in her knees like jelly, flew through the huddle of foreign men.

They welcomed her quickly with a parting of Aragorn and Legolas, as they herded her in with protective ushers of their arms. She then soon found her way to stand with the hobbits in the middle.

In a warrior’s instant, the front line of the Fellowship’s weapons were drawn again, this time pointed at the hunters, rather than their hounds, which had since been called off.

The men slowed their gait to an arrogant strut at the bottom of the slope, and they upheld two fingers each to halt their snarling wolves.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” the leader of the hunters greeted. He had a coat made of animal fur, and a flappy hat of the same material. A row of human teeth crafted a necklace around his collarbone.

“We are not looking for trouble, but we have no issue getting involved,” Aragorn cut to the chase. His sword was drawn idly, and his expression unnervingly neutral.

Y/n creased her brows and sucked on her lower lip, with a quick glance thrown at the back of Aragorn’s head. She soon looked back at the leading hunter, however, the moment he cracked a breathless smile and spoke again.

“I can assure you; we’re not looking for trouble either,” he began. “Just hand over the girl, and we’ll call it even for killing our dog.”

“Try it, I dare you,” Legolas warned, tightening the drawstring of his bow. “I’m in the mood.”

The man huffed a laugh again, and momentarily looked back at his two comrades. They, too, had bows drawn, and were looking to their leader for direction.

He, in turn, slowly rolled his tongue over the inside of his cheeks, and nodded with a faltering expression. He knew they were outnumbered by the Fellowship, wolves or not.

He looked at Y/n, who stiffened in response. Lifting his crusty hunting knife, the man gestured to Y/n. On cue, every member in the Fellowship huddled in closer, and darkened their eyes.

“We’ll be seeing you around, runner,” he said.

Reluctantly, and with a prolonged stare held on Y/n, the man turned on his feet. Snarling, his wolves followed, as did the other two men.

Once they were far enough away up the slope, the Fellowship collectively sighed, eased their shoulders and dropped their weapons.

Y/n shifted uncomfortably and nodded around at all of them, as they looked to her with softened eyes and gentle smiles, as if to say, “You’re safe now.”

“Thanks, guys,” she said, sincerely. “I owe you one.”

“Think nothing of it,” Gandalf promised, nodding his chin high. “An occupational hazard at this point.”

“Exciting careers?” Y/n laughed.

“You could say that,” Boromir laughed back. He walked back to his spot on the log, and ran a tired hand through his hair.

“Going anywhere exciting?” Y/n asked next, shrugging slightly in hope.

“You could also say that,” Frodo answered, sharing a nervous smile with Sam.

Smiling, and considering all her options, Y/n tried her luck.

“You’re not going east by any chance, are you?”

“Welcome aboard.”

[lemonjoonah]

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.”

[alrightberries]

honey, honey (how you thrill me)

request: i loved strawberries and cigarettes but levi just can’t catch a break :(( can we have a super fluffy modern au with boyfriend levi instead? thanks!

request: hi i’m new here and had read your fics. i love your take on levi’s character! Also that your writing is very great to read!😘 (tho that angst really made me cry HARD) if i may request umm... i want a levi x reader fic about them being like an old married couple but they’re not in a relationship ‘yet’ so like everyone ships them. Its a fluffy crack fic/ Reader is like “well you’re clean and I kinda lilke you so...” then levi be like “you’re tolerable and knows how to properly clean.” and then they really ended up married. It’s like the easiest transition from friends to lovers that one day they just said lets get married we act like it anyway whats new 😂. I want fluffs and laughs! Aot is angsty enough we need fluffs with our favorite characters!!

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack.  ❈ word count: 4.6k

❈ summary: modern au. In which you and Levi are both professors at the same university, and are painfully unaware that all the students and other staff members have a bet that’s been going on for years now. What’s it about? When you’ll both finally confess to each other and just date already.

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of sex

a/n: made it gender neutral as per usual. this was really fun to write! makes me think about writing fluff more often (pffft sure)

Trost University was home to many brilliant minds. It was a prestigious school with an acceptance rate of 600 out of 4000 yearly applicants, and producing the finest students; those of which would almost always graduate with high honors before starting a successful career of their choosing.

Its professors, undoubtedly, were of the finest quality as well. They were professional, extremely skilled, and highly trained. It was a workforce full of almost over qualified educators excelling in their respective fields, with master and PhD certificates framed on cubicle walls being the norm in the faculty room.

Erwin himself was proud to be a professor here. He started working as a high school teacher when he was still studying for his master’s degree, shifting from high school teachings to college teachings as years passed by, before eventually getting recognized and offered a job seven years ago by the prestigious school.

His friends— a loving and longterm couple who, as far as he knew, were high school sweethearts and still going strong today— had joined him on this journey as well. He’d known them since they were in college, all studying different fields but aiming for the same career of teaching.

The three of them shared a strong bond; a bond built on study groups, mutual dislike for crappy teachers, and a certain love for education. They were there for him, and he was there for them. He especially disliked it, however, when their relationship went through rough patches. He didn’t like picking sides, and listening to the same story being told from two different perspectives almost always made him want to grab Y/N and Levi’s heads and bash them together for how dumb they were acting.

But despite the differences and occasional fights, he wouldn’t hesitate to say that he trusted them with his life.

So Erwin, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why he was just now finding out that the power couple he knew and loved wasn’t even a couple at all.

“So, wait.” He speaks, trying to be heard over the crowded cafeteria chatter. “You’re telling me... they’re not a longterm couple?”

“They’re not.” Moblit confirms easily. “Apparently, they’re not even dating.”

“Or so they claim.” Hange interjects. “Y/N and Levi have actual matching rings. Literally— I asked Levi about it once and he said Y/N was his fiancé.”

“But not romantically.” Moblit quickly adds on. “I was there too, he said not romantically.”

“Why would Levi propose to someone he’s not romantically interested in, huh?!” She counters back, a little louder than the brown haired man’s volume.

“I don’t know! Citizenship? Money? Sex—“

“They’re in love! You know they’re in love, you’re just denying it because you want to get in Y/N’s pants.” She huffs. “And because you’re about to lose the bet.”

Erwin’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Bet? What bet?”

“Oh, you don’t know about the bet?” Hange asks. “It’s been going on for, like, five years now. The entire faculty’s in on it.” She begins to chow down on her soup, not offering more of an explanation. Moblit takes this as his cue to expand when he notices Erwin’s blank stare.

“Since you guys joined maybe... seven or so years ago? Everyone just assumed Y/N and Levi were a thing. Because of, y’know, the way they interact with each other. But then five years ago Hange and I asked them when their anniversary was so we could get them some wine, and both of them full on denied even being in a relationship.”

Hange nods, more than a spoonful of soup and a more than generous bite of bread in her mouth. “Yeah, but then I peaked at their faculty files—“

“Peaked at their faculty files?” Erwin murmurs, but he’s ignored.

“—and they have the same home address. They live together!”

“I can confirm that much, at least.” The blonde man answers thoughtfully. “They’ve been sharing a dorm since college but Y/N moved out at some point. They live together in Levi’s apartment now, though.”

“That doesn’t prove anything.” Says Moblit. “They could just be roommates and really good friends.”

“Well I’ll say!” Hange throws her hands in the air. “I caught Y/N sucking Levi’s dick at a party once. Must be one hell of a friendship they have, aye Moblit?”

Her elbow begins nudging the brunette beside her, and Erwin stares with amusement when Moblit starts getting irritated from the eccentric woman’s teasing.

“So what’s the wager?” Erwin asks.

The two professors stop their bickering and share an evil smile. Hange gestures for Erwin to come closer, as if she were about to tell him a secret, and he does just that.

“Whoever wins the bet gets a free meal from Shaw’s Bistro.”

Erwin’s eyes widen. Shaw’s Bistro; the classy high end restaurant with the fancy wine, fancier atmosphere, and the best Japanese Salted Salmon he’s ever had.

It was an expensive restaurant— even for someone with his salary. Erwin knew he could rarely ever eat there unless he wanted to run his bank account dry. And he concludes that this petty bet must be a Pretty Big Fucking Deal.

He squints his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Hange giggles as she continues. “Basically, you have to guess how long it’ll take for Y/N and Levi to finally admit they’re couple. But you can’t choose the same answer as other people in the bet, we can’t afford two winners. Literally.” She gestures to Moblit. “Unless you’re like dumb dumb over there who wagered they’ll never admit it because they’re not a couple—“

“They’re not!”

“—I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

Erwin nods his head, one hand on his chin in thought. He never did explicitly ask whether they were dating or not, he just assumed they were.

He carefully considers his options; be a snoop to his longterm friends and possibly break their trust for joining a foolish bet? Or Japanese Salted Salmon from Shaw’s Bistro?

Hange and Moblit look at him expectantly, smiling when he nods.

“Deal me in.”

The cafeteria was noisy when you walked in.

Students mingled amongst themselves, chatting idly about academics and gossip. Cutlery scraped against each other as people took bites of their meals. Your eyes scanned the crowd, spotting your friends sitting around their usual table and having what seemed to be a heated discussion.

You turned to look at the man beside you. “Did you bring your own lunch today?”

Levi nods as he lifts up a small black bag. “Always do. But I’ll stand next to you in the lunch line so you don’t look like a loner.”

That was Levi Speak for I’ll wait for you.

You smile. “Thanks.”

The brief silence between you is broken when you start talking about your students— how proud you were that Armin was tutoring some of the struggling students in his free time, how terrible Jean was at hiding his crush on Mikasa, how terrible Mikasa was at hiding her crush on Eren (“I don’t even think she’s trying to hide it. At this point, I’m convinced that Eren is either dumb or dense.”)

Levi nods along to your tales, seemingly uninterested and bored. But anyone who knew him well would know he was listening intently as you spoke, every word heard loud and clear and processing in his mind as soon as they left your lips. Occasionally, he would pipe in with his own comments (“Eren’s just dumb.”) but he didn’t engage too much, opting to let you speak and rant on.

Your talkativeness never got on his nerves, contrary to popular belief. He liked listening to your stories, listening to your voice, and seeing the little glint in your eyes when you start talking passionately about your students. He overall just liked being around you. You were cleaner than most people he knew. You were tolerable. Sometimes a pain in the ass, but still tolerable.

But what does get on his nerves, however, is being ‘secretly’ watched by his friends.

Once he’s sure you’re not looking, he turns his head in the direction of their table, murderous glare prominent on his face. Hange, Moblit, and Erwin quickly snap their heads down and pretend to eat, but Levi knew they were definitely staring.

“Oh crap, I forgot my free meal card.” He hears you mumble beside him. He hadn’t even realized you were already standing in front of the counter.

“Figures. You have the memory of a gold fish.” Levi comments off-handedly. 

He hands the cashier his free meal card and grabs your tray for you, and you silently took the coat that Levi had swung over his arm to carry with you instead. You knew he’d hate for it to get dirtied by any accidental soup splashing.

“So, what’s happening on your end of the gossip?” You ask, both making your way to your usual table with friends.

Levi shrugs. “The brats are doing well on their thesis. Their grammar is shit though; makes you wonder how they graduated high school.”

You snicker. “You say that now but tomorrow pull an all-nighter to help them study and revise.”

“You’re not one talk. You scheduled two different consultations between classes and three more after your shift.”

“I can’t help it, okay?! You know I have a soft spot for the kids from the 104th.”

Of course he did. He knew of your affection for that specific group of students— admittedly, he held a twinge of affection for them too.

They were part of the first class you ever taught in your entire teaching career. At the time, you both worked at some crappy school in the 104th district. And to see the kids now, all grown up and studying at a prestigious college, it made your heart swell. And Levi’s heart... well, suffice to say it cracked some of the ice around it.

“That soft spot of yours is making you lose sleep.” He scolds. “I’ll take some of the consultations off your hands. The lil shits deserve a teacher who isn’t half asleep.”

Again, that was Levi Speak for Don’t overwork yourself, let me help.

You jokingly slap his arm. “That’s rude!”

“I know.”

Your conversation is interrupted when you finally arrived at the table, Levi setting down your tray in front of you and you handing him back his coat as you sat down next to each other.

“Hey.” You greet your friends, and Levi silently unpacks his lunch. “What were you guys talking about? It looked pretty intense.”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Hange waved off. “Just the usual. Grading papers, grading lab experiments, grading essays. The usual.”

You nod, unconvinced but letting it slide. “I see.”

The table is once again filled with laughter and conversations. Banter was thrown around here and there, mostly between you, Hange, and Moblit as you debated about films and TV shows. Levi and Erwin stuck to light chatter, but it didn’t go unnoticed to the shorter man when Erwin’s eyes squinted as Levi placed his arm around the back of your chair like he always did, or when Hange tried to hide her squeal when he wiped some excess soup from the corner of your lips.

Something was up.

It was about ten minutes into lunch when your phone began to ring, a notification from a reminder app you downloaded. You picked up your phone and sighed as you read your schedule.

“Gotta go. I have a meeting in a few.” You mutter, beginning to clean up your tray and utensils; you were a little disappointed. You didn’t even get to finish your soup.

Levi eyes you and the way you kept glancing back and forth between your soup and the clock. He sighs before he speaks, “I’ll take care of your dishes and buy you lunch later. Just go.”

“No, no, I can— fuck!” You yell when the bowl of soup is accidentally knocked over, spilling over your jacket.

Levi silently offers you his handkerchief to clean yourself up. He starts using napkins to clean the table as well, before taking the coat he brought and giving it to you.

“Use this for now.”

You smile at him once again, taking your coat off and slipping on his as you stood up. “Thanks.”

He doesn’t flinch (or react for that matter) when you kiss his cheek before you left, only letting out a small hum of acknowledgement as you waved goodbye to your friends and made your way to the meeting.

Once you were out of view, Hange’s smile immediately drops in favor of too serious eyes as she starts interrogating Levi.

“Okay, cut the crap, Ackerman. How long have you—“

“Hange, no, we’ve talked about this.” Erwin tries to reason but his pleas fall on deaf ears as she continues.

“How long have you and Y/N been dating?”

Ah. So that’s what it was about.

Levi sighs and continues to chew on his bread. He unenthusiastically stares at the woman yelling at him, swallowing his meal before speaking, “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again: we’re not.”

“Bullshit!” She yells. “You guys are a disgusting old married couple who have two adopted children—“

“Dogs.” Levi corrects boredly, but just like everyone else at the table, he’s ignored as Hange continues her tirade.

“—have matching sweaters, do small bullshit for each other like paying for meals and lending your coats. And for god’s sake, they literally just kissed your cheek even though you hate human contact.”

She finishes her rant but Levi looks unphased. God, she wanted to punch his dumb and oblivious face so bad.

“Those are normal things normal friends do. I’m not surprised you wouldn’t know, four-eyes.” Says Levi, but Hange is unaffected and already used to his abrasive words.

Levi continues. “We don’t do anything beyond what’s considered friendship.”

Hange squints her eyes in suspicion. “Didn’t Y/N move into your apartment?”

“Yeah. Their landlord was shit.”

“Where I caught you having sex?”

“We’re fuck buddies and you don’t know how to knock.”

“But you introduced them to your mom as your fiancé?”

“I lied so she would stop bugging me about getting married.”

“You literally have a shared bank account and a shared retirement fund!”

“It’s easier to keep track of.”

“Damn it, Levi!”

Armin stares at the study guide in front of him, mind half processing the words and half... not. Quite frankly, he starts to wonder if the papers you’d given him were written in gibberish or some dead language no one spoke anymore.

You see him struggle to understand the sheet of paper in front of him, and sigh.

“Need a little help there, Armin?” You offer but he shakes his head. “I’m okay. I think I can understand this if I read through it more, it’s my friends I’m worried about.”

He glances beside him where the rest of his study group also stared the papers, each face painted with a unique mixture of confusion and dread.

You weren’t surprised, however. The readings for this module were quite complex, and the fact that your brightest students— Armin and Mikasa— were struggling with it made you feel a little bit hopeless for the rest of your class. Truth be told, even though you taught this topic countless of times, you weren’t entirely sure how to simplify it without leaving out too much information.

“Okay, how about this, we could—“ A soft knock interrupts your sentence, and you stare at the students in front of you to remember if you were expecting any more. It seemed like everyone was here, however, so you weren’t sure who was at the door.

“It’s me.” Came Levi’s voice, almost like he heard your inner monolgue.

“Come in!” You called out, focus shifting back to the paper in front of you as you heard the door open and close.

Okay, so I guess I could take this part and summarize it for them? Or would that still be too complicated? No, maybe I can—

“Ah, it’s that topic.” Levi mumurs, snapping you out of your thoughts. His face was directly next to yours as he stared intently at the papers you held. “No wonder you all look like you’re about to crap your pants.”

“Language, Levi. Not in front of the students.” You scold.

“They curse more than I do.”

“Still.”

He ignores your comment as he hands you a brown paper bag, pulling a chair out to sit next to you. He grabs the paper from your hands to look over the study guide you prepared, undoubtedly trying to figure out a way to simplify it as well.

“What’s this?” You ask, opening the paper bag.

“Bought you dinner.” He replies, eyes not leaving the paper in front of him. “I figured you’d forget again.”

As if on cue, your stomach suddenly starts feeling empty. It was impossible that you were hungry, though. You just had lunch. And after lunch you had some meetings to attend to, a couple classes, some last minute consultations, and— okay. Maybe it’d been a couple hours since lunch, but it couldn’t be that bad. A brief glance at the clock confirms that—

“Holy shit, it’s almost 8pm.”

“Language, Y/N. Not in front of the students.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“Gladly.”

The students in front of you let out a loud groan, faces over exaggeratedly contorted in disgust at your and Levi’s conversation.

Levi glimpses up at them and raises his eyebrow in question, while you jokingly roll your eyes.

“Alright, I think we should continue our consultation another time.” You said, beginning to pack up your teaching materials as the students did the same. “It’s getting late and curfew’s at 8pm. I’d better not see any of you outside the dorms.”

You knew you would though. It’s Friday night, there’s a bar across the street, and they’re teenagers. What could possibly go wrong?

You turn to Levi and hand him the keys. “You go ahead to the car, I’ll finish packing up.”

“It’s alright, I’ll wait for you in the hallway.” Levi takes the car keys as he stands up, walking out the door once again and leaving you alone with your students.

As you began to arrange your papers and clear the table, you start to remind them, “Okay, so we can discuss chapters—“

“Are you and Professor Ackerman dating?” Eren asks curiously, earning a shove from Jean and a silent threat to shut up, dumbass.

You chuckle. “No, Eren. We’re not.”

He gives you a doubtful look, one which you only return with a curious face.

“What’s with that look?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“You should date him— ow, what?!” He speaks, getting shoved by both Reiner and Jean this time before Mikasa pulls them off of him. You pause from your task.

“Okay, I’ll humor you. Why should I date him?”

The students share a look, daring each other to respond to your bold question. A few tense moments pass by and you smugly continue packing your papers. Yeah, you figured no one would—

“He’s nicer when he’s with you.” To your surprise, it was Mikasa who answers.

Unsure how to answer but still wanting to remain professional, you nod your head without looking up from your task. “Duly noted. Now go on, I know you have parties to attend to. I won’t hold you here much longer.”

The students laughed as they said their goodbyes; you held the door open for them until everyone was out before you left as well, shutting down the lights and locking the room once more.

A warm hand makes its way to the small of your back, and you smile.

“Hey.” Levi greets.

“Hey.” You repeat. “You read to go?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share my dinner when we get back home?”

“...yeah.”

He takes the stack of paper from your arms, his free hand reaching out for your own. You walked down the hallway in relative silence, interlocked hands swinging slightly from every step.

From the opposite corner of the hallway, the students’ prying eyes observe the small interaction; the two professors remained completely unaware that they were being watched.

“Told you they were a thing.” Ymir gloats, and the group snickers as Reiner irritatedly hands her some money.

Something was wrong.

If there was one thing Erwin knew from the nearly two decade long friendship he shared with you and Levi, it was when something was wrong.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him when Levi didn’t open your side of the car door as he usually would when you arrived at the parking lot; when he made a beeline for his cubicle in the faculty instead of helping you get settled first; when you didn’t make a fresh pot of tea for him before classes started; when your small sweet gestures throughout the day were kept to a minimal; and most importantly, when neither you nor Levi wore your matching gold rings.

The faculty was nearly empty, save for himself, Hange, Moblit, and the two people who were having a lover’s quarrel. The entire day went by without seeing you two walk side by side like you usually would, and Erwin was pretty sure Levi’s permanent frown somehow got deeper.

Yeah. Something was horribly wrong.

“Pssst.” Erwin hears from the desk next to his. He turns around and is met with Hange and Moblit’s curious gazes.

“The hell happened to those two? Trouble in paradise?” Hange asks, eyeing Y/N and Levi’s grouchy faces and refusal to acknowledge each others’ existence as they each packed their things. She adds on, “Are they getting divorced?” Only to be reminded by Moblit that “They’re not dating.”

Erwin shrugs, answering Hange’s question. “No idea.”

Moblit chimes in, “I heard Petra tried asking Levi out yesterday and now Y/N is jealous.” 

She scoffs. “Y/N isn’t the jealous type. Besides, Petra’s part of the bet so that means she thinks they’re going to get together.”

“I’m part of the bet and I don’t think they’re going to get together.” Moblit points out. “And Petra stares at Levi the way Levi stares at Y/N.”

“Full of disdain and irritation?” Hange asks.

“No,” Erwin finally interjects. “Full of love and admiration.”

“Can the three of you creeps keep your mouths shut?” Hange, Erwin, and Moblit’s heads snapped to the direction of the voice, eyes meeting a pissed off Levi with a pissed off Y/N beside him. It seems like their hushed whispering wasn’t so hushed at all. 

“When you gossip about our private life the least you could do is wait until we’ve left the room.” You gritted.

“No, it wasn’t-” Hange tries to defend herself but is cut off by Levi, “We already heard you talking. Now out with it before I change my mind about letting this slide.”

The three guilty professors sigh, sharing a look before Erwin decides to come clean. “We’re concerned for you.” He starts. “You’ve been ignoring each other the entire day and whatever this fight is, it’s the worst one I’ve seen you have.”

You sigh. “Listen, it’s not that we don’t appreciate your concern, it’s just that-”

“-it’s just that it’s none of your goddamn business.” Levi interjects and you immediately glare at his rudeness. 

“Shut it, Levi. I don’t have time for your bull.”

“And I don’t have time for your petty lies.”

The three watched as you and Levi begin to quarrel, sharp words and irritated glares thrown around with each passing second. Your voices overlapped with each other as Erwin tried to make sense of what it was you were even fighting about, some words about betrayal in the highest degree and ruining a good thing and a relationship built on lies being the few words he understands. 

Finally, he has enough.

“Stop.” Erwin says loudly but firmly. The two of you pause from your bickering him and stare at him incredulously; he continues to speak, “We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re grown adults. I’m getting tired of playing mediator whenever you fight but if I have to do it again so you stop yelling, then I will.” 

He sighs. “Now what the hell are you two fighting about?”

“Y/N started it.” “Levi started it.” You say at the same time, and Erwin feels a headache coming but decides to ignore it.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

The two of you stare at each other angrily, almost daring the other to back down. This goes on for a few seconds before Levi finally sighs and speaks.

“Y/N thinks lemon scented detergent is better than lavender scented detergent.”

Hange and Moblit snicker but quickly shut up when Erwin gives them a look. He wasn’t even surprised that a fight as small and menial as this would be the fight that tears his favorite power couple apart.

“It is and you know it.” You reply defiantly and Levi groans in frustration, hand holding his head in disbelief as he quietly mutters, “I can’t believe I’m marrying someone who thinks lemon is better than lavender.”

At that, Hange’s ears perk up. “You’re getting married?!” She screams, and the two of you look at her in confusion, fight suddenly forgotten.

“Yeah, next week.” You reply wearily. “We emailed you the invites.”

If Erwin thought your bickering was loud, then the squeal that Hange let out was nothing short of deafening as she suddenly lunges at the couple, forcing them into a group hug as she cheers, “I knew it! I fucking knew it! You are together.”

Levi scoffs. “Don’t be silly, it’s for tax purposes. Apparently the bank won’t approve the loan for our new house unless we’re legally wed; something about tax fraud.”

“House?” Moblit echoes. “Don’t you already live together?”

You nod. “Yeah, but we figured the kids-”

“Dogs.” Levi corrects.

“-deserve a yard to run around in. Our apartment’s getting too cramped for the four of us.”

“Don’t ruin this for me!” Hange yells. “I have a wedding to plan.”

Levi sighs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, four-eyes. There isn’t going to be a ceremony. We’re going to a court house to get our marriage license approved. That’s it.”

“And we invited you and Erwin to be our witnesses.” You explained. “There isn’t going to be a celebration but we’re going to host a small dinner party for close friends and family.We’d greatly appreciate it if you can RSVP to the emails within the week so we know how much food to prepare.”

The three professors nod, each exchanging pleasant smiles. It wasn’t the wedding invite they were hoping to receive but it was still a wedding invite nonetheless, and they weren’t about to burst your bubble.

“Hold on a second,” Erwin mutters, suddenly remembering one detail. “Where are your rings?” He gestures to your ringless hands.

“We had them engraved with our initials. Makes things more believable.” Levi answers. “If you’re done with the dumb questions, we’ll go ahead now.” 

He doesn’t wait for them to answer as he holds your hand in his, walking you out of the faculty room and into the hallway as he pretends not to notice his friends giggling like teenagers at the information you just shared.

“So...” You start, giving him a warm smile as you squeezed his hand. “Do you think they’re catching on?”

Levi lets out a rare smile, eyes softening as he looks at you. “No. They’re too dumb to know we’re actually together. They’ll eat up whatever bullshit explanation we come up with.”

“Okay, but remind me again why we have to keep pretending like we’re not actually together and not actually getting married next week?”

He brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles affectionately before placing his hand on the small of your back.

“Does it bother you that they don’t know?” He asks, and you hum as you think it through. “No. It’s actually really entertaining.” You laugh. “But why don’t you want them to know?”

He shrugs, pulling you closer to him. “That’s what they get for placing stupid bets.”

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