#finale was Peak (I may elaborate more later)

[autisticace]

So I've done it again. Spoilers for Gotchard's finale, of course. (and technically Games Wizards Play...)

Also here:

[goldsbitch]

Right? p4

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2, part 3

warning: 18+ i guess?

It was a bit tricky to find a safe moment of solitude for the two of you to have your promised photoshoot. But in two days, your plans might finally become true.

What seemed easier, surprisingly, was finding little moments for quick make out sessions. In the driver's room, in the PR office, in that little hallway just next the mechanics gear storage.

You were a bit more careful outside the garage, but could not help one little kiss between the trailers.

It wasn't like Lando was shy at the beginning, but the more you got into the, the cheekier he became. He was so touchy. Grabbing your boobs and ass during make outs, brushing your hand when he walked by you and getting a little too close when discussing his photos.

You must have missed it before, or the frequency of him putting his hand on your shoulders has skyrocketed in the past few days.

You loved how you got to know him more. Learning the secret tricks that worked on your little, minor, definitely not massive, crush.

Zak Brown has requested a general meeting of the whole crew once you all landed in the next location. A tiny part of you suddenly got worried it might concern your little endeavor. Keeping this under the radar was of utmost importance, no matter what Lando said. You hoped you could trust him and his confidentiality. It felt strange to depend on that, but the adrenaline rush was hard to resist. The meeting turned out to be the introduction of a new sponsor and the obligation that this entailed. You had never been more happier for a new sponsor.

-"I might have one request for our photoshoot," was a text from Lando that popped up on your laptop screen. He was sitting on the other side of the room, at the front with all the important folks, while you were in the back right next to your other colleagues making notes. You looked at Lando, who was already watching you. Once your eyes met, he turned to his phone again. Having a feeling this might be one of his inappropriate games, you quickly disabled all notifications on your laptop. Instead you took your phone out, hoping no one was paying any attention to you.

-"Can you move just little to your left?" he continued. You gave him a questioning look and did as he asked.

-"Great, thanks sweetheart."

-"May I ask why, Lando?"

-"It's very closely connected to my request."

"Which would be....?"

"Be as kind to me as you are today" Again, you reacted with another questioning look. Lando took a moment to reply to a question from Zak and only after that quickly took his phone again to elaborate.

"Tight t-shirt with no bra is the peak of kindness in my opinion. Remember this next time I'm sad, I'm sure it'll help."

There is a certain kind of mad, that's not really angry or serious even, but still manages to rile up the blood in ones veins. Lando noticed your disbelief and tried to hide his amusement by pretending to be super interested in what Zak has been saying. For his own sake, he should stick with a driver's career, rather than acting.

In the meantime, to cut his fun short, you gracefully took out your sweater and put it on.

5 seconds later you received a ":(" text from the one and only.

"Sad already, Lando? I recall some cure for that. But probably for a closer inspection."

Lando was biting his cheek while reading it, only to be lightly reminded by Oscar of all people, that Lando's full attention is required to other things than his phone.

You were also pretending to be super interested in the presentation, but in the corner of your eye, you felt the rookie McLaren driver pointing his attention in your direction.

Probably nothing, right?

//

The change in your mood has been noted by those closest to you. All of a sudden, you were like a lit up candle, shining around every room you walked in. This did not play well with your need to stay as lowkey as possible. Oh and you were dyinggg to speak about this with someone to help you process what the fuck was actually happening. But it was all just pretty delicate. Mentally, you'd settled on the idea that once this is over, it will be a cool and unbelievable story for you and your friends. You did not usually fall for people, but when you did, you fell hard. You were currently overrun by adrenaline and dopamine to make much of a room for any of this to worry you.

Lando seemed to be followed by someone from the team all throughout the week. He was very vocal to you over texts about his impatience and that you both would need to be creative. Lando also wanted to catch the golden hour for your photoshoot. Wanted was an understatement, he was obsessed with it.

So when is the best time to avoid everyone? When they're busy getting ready for a new sponsor welcoming party. It was easy for your to get out of it, it was impossible for Lando to skip it completely - but arriving fashionably late was something he could very much afford. Which gave you an hour or two to have fun.

When the taxi dropped you off over at a location he sent you, he was already there. You agreed that at the moment, him picking you up would be risky. His car here on a random hill near Monte Carlo was suspicious enough. Then again, normal cars seemed to avoid Monaco.

He was leaning over centuries old abandoned wall on a make shift parking spot next to a forest, light shining directly into his face. You were not sure whether he was trying or if it just really came naturally, but when took his sunglasses off to look at you properly, he looked like he was put on this Earth to break hearts, to capture and allure anyone he decided.

So, into the lion's den you went. Nowhere you'd like to be but here.

"Good girl," is what he opened with. Shamelessly looked you up and down and continued: "I like it when you listen to me." Yes. You wore a tight crop top without a bra. And you had zero regrets for using cheap tricks.

"Well, Mr. Photographer. You're the boss. Now it's your turn to tell me what to do." The way how him telling you what to do made you so horny was freaking you out a bit. You were usually the dominant one, right?

"Like the sound of that. Come over there with me and let's see how this light works."

You were 100% sure he wanted to kiss you. Just like you wanted to kiss him. But this cat and mouse vibe was making it all just a bit more exciting. So you immediately went to where he was pointing.

"Taking a girl in the forest, alone. You sure you're not planning anything I should be worried about, am I right?"

"If I recall, you're the one who dragged me to a forest at night. Perhaps it's our thing."

"We'll see."

//

Lando had a different kind of a photographer personality than you had. With him doing this just for fun, he was super relaxed, chatty and playful. You were more "crazy eyes" "in-the-zone" type of a person when it came to photography. But his approach worked on you. You were actually bit worried coming here, because being on that side of the camera was not your comfortable spot. He managed to get all of this out of the window without even trying. At first he gave you over the top instructions as a joke, suddenly speaking with a horrifyingly bad French accent.

"I'm not doing that, Lando," you laughed out when he requested you run away from him so he could take some blurry back shots.

"Monsignor Norris for you, madame, let's be professionale," he kept his act and looked at you and rolled his eyes. "These young hot girls, they always think they are ze shit. How can I work with these material. My art will suffeour."

You looked at him, trying not to laugh at his theatrical expressions. Apparently, you were now into bad accents jokes. He was getting under your skin in parts you had no idea is possible. "This was maybe more German than French, monsignor Norris."

"Papa must have been German then." He then swiftly moved his camera up, completely taking you by surprise.

"Yes," he abandoned the accent. "The face of a total disbelief suits you the best. I want to see that."

It was fascinating to watch someone walk so gracefully on the line of serious hot and goofy cute. You were doomed.

You sighed loudly. He smiled. You bit your lip and butterflies flew as if they were on drugs. Because spending time with him was having the same affect as drugs would have on different people.

"Can I take one photo of you?" you asked. "The light is just too perfect to miss this out."

He stepped closer. Handed you the camera. When his hand touched yours, it felt like being burned in the best way possible.

"Yes. But only if this goes to your special secret folder with the other ones."

You nodded. His fingers played with yours. You looked up at his face and lips he just licked. And then you kissed him again. This was probably the slowest kiss you ever shared. Not a quick "hurry up before someone sees us" type of kiss. No, this was the one where you explored, drowned in the moment. You were becoming used to the texture of his lips, the way his tongue moved and how his teeth lightly bit your own lips once in a while. This wasn't a rushed moment. This was a study session. It continued to surprise you how great of a kissing partner he was to you. Putting most of your previous kisses you had with other people in shame.

When his hand slowly traced a line starting down your neck and ending right above your nipple, you could feel him smile into your kiss. "Shall I continue?" Lando had his line of asking for consent and making it sound hot mastered to perfection.

"Yes."

"Yes...?"

"Yes, please."

"That's more like it." And he went on to circle and squeeze your nipple. It was as if he had unlocked a new level. The further you went the more had the curiosity about how it must feel when he'd be inside you grew into a need. Desire transforming to urge. Intrigue growing to lust. Lando studied what kind of an effect each of his move had. And used what he had observed to toy with you even more. He gently pushed you to the nearest tree, pressed his body against yours and bit your nipple through your shirt, causing you only wanting more. You grabbed his hand it on your other breast and make him squeeze it. While you yourself started exploring his torso under his t-shirt. He returned back to kissing you, while his hands roamed around your body. You reached all the way to his belt and pulled him forward. "Careful, Y/N," Lando joked in between kisses. "Might be hard to turn back and stop if we keep it at this pace. Here in this forest. Anyone could walk by."

Your hand started to trace the outline of his growing erection. "Is it bad that I'm finding that hot?"

He smiled. "Yes. And I guess we are both bad people."

You gently grabbed him. The reaction his body was giving you was everything. "So we'll stop here. We need to get you to the stupid event anyway."

Lando took a deep breath. "Right."

"Right," you smiled, finally seeing that you have some effect on him, which was only making you want to go further in the future.

You both stepped away from each other, burning each other with eye contact. Once Lando came back to normal a bit, he winked at you. "Come along, I need to smile at people who are making sure we get paid."

"Fair enough." You snapped an unexpected photo, getting his flustered face in the perfect light. Cheeky smiles were shared again.

The sun was almost set as you reached his car. "I'll drive you to the hotel."

"You sure?" you asked. "I'm happy to get a cab to be safe."

"Nonsense, you'd be waiting here for half an hour. Come, I'll drop you off in the parking lot of the hotel, quickly dress and head to the event."

You got into his car, reluctantly. Once you were settled, he promply started the car, did 180 drift and had the car sprint to the road entrance.

You laughed. "Show off...."

"Ha, as if."

The drive was silent for few minutes, but after that Lando started asking you quite a lot of questions. It seemed a bit strange to you. He was suddenly interested in how you like your colleagues, what got you to the world of F1, how your family handled the fact you were away all the times. You made a joke about this feeling like an interview. He joked back, saying he is continuing on trying different roles and progressed from a photographer to an interviewer. You had a lot to say about this - how come he would consider this a progress?

It felt like you could spend hours talking to this British idiot.

In the middle of your conversation, he put his hand on your leg for a moment. It really should not make you lose focus on the outside world so quickly, right?

part 5

_______________________

@i-wish-this-was-me @lqvesoph

[canonically47]

episode starts in like two minutes so might as well put in my review request now!

OH MY FUCKING GOD GUYS... HOLY FUCKING SHIT /POS

disventure camp all stars epiaode 13: "dis-vengers" - review

spoilers!!!! (but you knew that.)

they killed my aroace alec headcanon... they took it, stomped on it and burned it to the ground... yet another dsvc man who has fallen victim to the whiny lovestruck baby trope god i am so fucking sorry alec

the saddest thing is i could see them together if riya liked him back. like when they kissed and i saw riya give in i was actually excited and then she pulled away two seconds later and i was like oh.. we're doing this then.

krysderek and trevor yada yada does anybody care?? did anybody give two shits???? no? okay good NEXT!

poor alec, this episode treated him like shit. i'm starting to believe he may not make finale. this episode gave him such a visceral downgrade

connor not knowing what VR is he's so unserious 😭😭😭

ally and connor were boring this episode (as always imo) but i'm glad to see them have more moments together!!

JAKE AND AIDEN. god i'd be lying if i said this episode didn't make me adore them individually and as a pair. can we forget tomjake and instead shove jake between james and aiden and make them poly. i really need a poly couple in this show i'm starved for them

even from a non-shipping point of view, these two have come so far and i'm so peoud of them. just... argh they make me so happy now wtf i've done such a 180 on them and i'm not even complaining?!!?!!???

FUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU YULLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!

top ten moments that made me cheer and yell loudly this episode!!!!!!

grett and gabby... grett has with gabby what the fandom wishes she had with riya. they're so,,, yeah let's shove grett between gabellie as well. maybe we should also add tess. and ally somehow. and hunter can be there as some sort of treat??? i gotta make a chart for this

FUCK!!!!!! YOU!!!!!!!!!!! YULLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! here's a small collection of everyone hating on him

fuuuuuck you have no idea how happy and relieved i am after this episode. now that the love triangle has been cast aside, i feel like the show is finally returning to its peak. i'm gonna elaborate more on that on another ask i got from this same anon but just know i'm starting to be much more excited and look forward to episodes now. i hope they don't immensely fuck it up

9/10 because .. the kiss. but otherwise it was an amazing episode

look at those queer couples . fantastic stuff. peak gay onc era is coming back

[gxdmade]

@lovehungered asked: [Birthday Boy!]

ㅤㅤ“Oi, that’s enough for one day. Finish up and come down.”  A cloth and a bottle of water are placed down on the ground besides Usopp, the late afternoon sun commencing to set with wondrous streaks of vibrant orange and rose gracing the canvas of the expansive sky, the plants of the garden being tended to having been abundantly sated by caring hands  (  peut-être que le cuisinier devrait envisager de placer ses herbes en pot ici…  ).  An emergent grin edges into place as fair hair sways in the opposing direction to beckon the sniper to follow, hands slipping into Sanji’s pockets as light-footed steps steadily traipse away, following a path of fairy lights curled sound the railings towards the lawn. ㅤㅤㅤㅤA sprawling series of blankets are set on the lush grass with comfortable cushions, a series of draped sheets arcing across the area in elaborate peaks on the odd chance that they may get a sprinkle of moisture later in the evening, iridescent colours catching the light to create a cornucopia of sparkling patterns that dance about the fabric wafting in the breeze. Having consulted with Franky to setup a sound system, there are plans for music as well as some karaoke a little later when more drinks have been flowing  (  Marimo est coupé pour le moment pendant qu'il soigne une gueule de bois  ).  A broad medley of prepared bite size party food originating from the Gecko Islands awaits to bring the other a taste of home, a large black forest gateau set aside alongside layers of genoise sponge with tropical fruits, the blond having painstakingly spent much of the day egaged in culinary feats a means of providing some variety for the occasion. ㅤㅤWhile everyone gets ready to join the festivities, a box with gold wrapping and an intricately looped blue ribbon awaits the birthday sniper, a brand new pair of goggles nestled within.  “I had to make an exchange of a thing or two…”  (  ne demande pas  )  “...but I called in a favour with one of the Vegapunk satellites. The lenses have an embedded HUD system in place. It makes tracking targets easier both during the day and night.”  Sanji hands over a glass of pumulani cocktail with an extra shot of blue curacao, a curly straw surrounded by mini umbrellas.  “Happy birthday to the great captain Usopp. Take it easy for the rest of the week, you deserve it.”

The sniper was meticulous about everything he worked on, whether it be art, weapons or gardening. He refused to do them half-way, sometimes to the detriment of his sleep schedule and spine. The latter of which currently screaming at him from his hunched position over his little garden. His focus outweighed the pain that began to turn numb, saying to himself that he'll get up in just a second. Just one more thing-

The thud of something being put next to him finally catches his attention, the words being lost to the noise-canceling setting on his headset. Turning, he realizes it's Sanji, a smile instantly forming on his lips. (Always the caretaker, their cook.) "Thanks!" Swiping up the water, he chugs about half of it, not realizing how thirsty he actually was til now. The other half is used to wet the offered towel, doing a quick wipe of his face to get rid of the sweat and dirt he was sure found it's way there.

Unheard sentence aside, he gets the hint when the blond gestures for him to follow. Standing, he stretches his arms high, several pops sounding as he finally uncurled from his painful hunch. Rolling his shoulders for good measure, he follows after Sanji, not noticing the fairy lights until about halfway down the stairs. "Huh..?"

The sight he steps into blooms very fond surprise in the sniper, taking in the aesthetics, food and hints at the promise of a festive time. There were even foods from his home! A bittersweet twist in his chest when he realizes, jogging over to the dishes. "Whoa... this is insane!"

The question on what the whole shindig was for was on the tip of the sniper's tongue when a prettily wrapped box is put in his hands, the surprise returning to his wide eyes. He listened to the cook speak, and the realization hit him like a brick. How did he forget his own birthday?? Well, not entirely forget, exactly, more like distracted himself a little too deeply. (How did he not notice all this set up..?)

Opening the package, an excited gasp sounds at the new set of goggles inside. (He wanted to ask. He wanted to ask so bad.) Giggling like a toddler, the sharpshooter switched the goggles in the box with his current hat (a sun hat, of all things) and immediately started fiddling with his present. "Sanji, this is amazing!!" His voice was breathy with awe, grin incredibly wide.

Pulling the goggles up to rest on his bandana, he yanks the cook into a tight squeeze. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

[kudosmyhero]

Batman (vol. 1) #232: Daughter of the Demon

Read Date: May 12, 2023 Cover Date: June 1971 ● Writer: Dennis O'Neil ● Penciler: Neal Adams ● Inker: Dick Giordano ● Colorist: {uncredited} ● Letterer: John Costanza ● Editor: Julius Schwartz ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● (looks like I'm reading this one on my phone because the DC app is messing up again on my iPad. grr, I wanna love the app, but dammit DC, get your shit together!) ● (though after I uninstalled/reinstalled the app, the log-in screen was actually rotated properly for landscape--gaspu! it still didn't recognize my credentials, however) ● (anyway) ● opening page: holy shit, the art is amazing, the story prompted the "holy shit" back there… I'm invested. claps hands, leans forward let's go! ● (still no option for full page view in addition to panel-by-panel. git yer shit together, DC) ● first appearance of Ra's al Ghul! ● nice, Neal Adams recreated a common Batman pose in the comics from the 30s and 40s

● the art and inks are just brilliant ● no! kitty! ● btw, I live for Ubu constantly pushing Batman aside, saying, "No! Master al Ghul goes first!" ● Bruce, last time you used your parka as a distraction, you nearly froze to death (Legends of the Dark Knight, "Shaman") ● now won't you guys feel silly if you came all this way just to find that Robin and Talia have been back in Gotham somewhere this whole time? ● Robin has got to be freezing ● Batman is all out of fucks ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: As Robin returns home from a night of adventuring, he finds himself the target of two gunmen armed with tranquilizer darts. They shoot the Boy Wonder and take him prisoner.

Hours later, Bruce Wayne receives a photograph of his kidnapped partner along with a challenge to find him. He returns to the Batcave to investigate further, but when he arrives he finds a man named Ra's al Ghul and his servant Ubu waiting for him. Ra's' contacts have deduced that Bruce Wayne and the Batman are one in the same, and he has called upon the world's greatest detective to help him find his daughter Talia, who has likewise been kidnapped. Suspecting that Talia's kidnapping and Robin's are related, Batman agrees to aid Ra's al Ghul.

Their journey leads them first to Calcutta where they find clues linking the kidnappers to a cult known as the Brotherhood of the Demon. Batman interrogates a local thug about the Brotherhood's whereabouts and the man points them towards a building in the Alley of Widows. As Batman enters the building, a poised leopard leaps out and attacks him. Batman catches the animal's jaw with his elbow and is forced to snap its neck. With the danger past, Batman finds a map that points them towards the Himalayan Mountains.

Ra's al Ghul finances a mountain-climbing expedition and the three begin scaling the frozen mountainsides. A sniper begins firing at them, and it appears that one of the bullets strikes Ra's. Ubu pulls him inside of a crevice, while Batman deftly evades repeat gunfire. Ascending the peak, he finds a temple belonging to the Brotherhood. He enters the temple where he finds Robin bound with rope under armed guard. Batman frees Robin, and the gunmen begin to advance on him. Turning around, Batman reveals that he is not fooled by this elaborate ruse. The masked "leader" of the Brotherhood approaches him, but Batman tears the mask off of him revealing the face of Ra's manservant Ubu. He knew all along that Ra's was the true perpetrator of this crime. Ubu and Batman fight, but Batman's speed and skill prove more than a match for him. Ra's finally enters the chamber along with his daughter Talia. He confesses to staging the entire episode to see if Batman could prove to be a worthy successor to Ra's role of leader of the Brotherhood. He also reveals that Talia is in love with Batman, and Ra's wants assurances that the Dark Knight would be a worthy son-in-law.

(https://dc.fandom.com/wiki/Batman_Vol_1_232)

Fan Art: Talia al Ghul Color by Protokitty

Accompanying Podcast: ● Relatively Geeky: Uncovering the Bronze Age - episode 02

[taleasnewastime]

Stuck with you

Summary: It’s the first Christmas since your dad passed away. You, your mum and sister are going to his favourite place to do his favourite thing, skiing. And yet you’re not there. Stuck. Stranded. Trapped. In seemingly the single hottest place in the world. Your transfer flight cancelled so you’re now stuck between home and your family. A snowstorm that causes all flights to be cancelled, heat that just seems wrong at Christmas, your sister crying and shouting down the phone at you, and to top it off, the most annoying man in the world who’s in the same position as you and seems to think you’re friends because of that fact. Merry Christmas to you.

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Genre: Strangers to lovers; smut; angst; fluff; Christmas fic!

Word count: 29.6k

Warnings: First Christmas since fathers’ death, a lot of emotions off the back of this fact, sisterly bickering, family disputes, anxiety, sadness, crying, not going to lie this gets very sad in places so if this is a triggering subject please do not read, probably really inaccurate knowledge/description of stuff (e.g. the storm, fishing and places – note that I talk about skiing in Chamonix but flying to Geneva, that’s because to get to Chamonix you have to fly into Geneva, probably obvious but just in case), there’s fishing but no fish are injured/killed, explicit sexual content, oral (m receiving), fingering, safe penetrative sex, misunderstanding, some more sadness, but it’s still soft and ultimately happy.

Authors Note: Whoops I’ve done it again, a fic that I thought would be 15-20k and yet here she is, another beast. It’s a heavy topic for Christmas, but I promise it is soft and nice in places. Please, please, pleeease check the warnings before reading this as I can understand why it would be a triggering topic, otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

CANCELLED.

The word written in big bold red letters as if to further rub in the point. But there has to be a mistake, because that can’t be right.

You read it again. Check the destination name. Carefully look across to see the time of take-off. But there is no time there, just that stupid, horrible word. Cancelled.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a feminine voice sounds out overhead, your eyes are still firmly fixed on the sign above you. “We regret to inform passengers on the 14:55 flight BA0288 to Geneva that due to unforeseen bad weather the flight has been cancelled. Please can passengers of the 14:55 flight BA0288 to Geneva go to the boarding desk for further information.”

The voice continues to repeat the information while bodies start to shift around you, grumblings following them. But all you can look at is that one word. Cancelled.

You still refuse to believe it’s true. There must have been a mistake somewhere. Someone must have mixed up the flight numbers. Or maybe this is an elaborate prank, something someone thinks is funny. Because your flight can’t be cancelled. It can’t. You’re supposed to be on your way to the snowy peaks, not stuck in the airport of your connecting flight.

The announcement is made again, the same calm female tone. It’s as if they’re saying it for the first time though, the words only just sinking in. You finally look away from the sign, look around the boarding hall, the place you should be getting on your connecting flight full of angry people, a small queue forming at the boarding desk.

Everything is pointing at that sign being right, yet you still don’t believe it, can’t believe it.

You should get your phone out and text your sister to warn her that you may not be turning up at the time you thought. But you don’t take your phone out, still thinking there must be a mistake, or maybe there will be another flight in a few hours. There’s no point in worrying your sister if you don’t even know what’s happening yet. Better to message her later when you know the time of your next flight than messaging her now with only the information of your flight being cancelled. It will worry her, stress you out further and you don’t need that right now.

You stand, gather your bag and massive coat and head to the back of the queue.

It doesn’t take too long to get to the front of the line, but it feels like a lifetime, everyone seemingly taking their time talking to the people behind the desk. Complaining about the cancelled flight, or just rebooking themselves onto the next one, you hope (though hopefully not taking all the available seats).

You threat all the way to the front the line, don’t realise you’ve somehow ended up being one of the last in the boarding area, you’d spent so much time not believing it that now you’re at the back of the queue.

“Hello there, how can I help you?”

It’s almost the last straw, the words spoken with such happiness it seems to be mocking you. You take a deep breath, attempt to compose yourself before you start.

“Well, my flights been cancelled.”

“Yes, I can only apologise for the inconvenience. Unfortunately, there’s been an unforeseen storm which has meant the plane won’t be able to land in Geneva.”

“I really don’t understand how weather can be unforeseen,” you force a smile, the words coming out of gritted teeth. “But what I’d love to know is how you will be overcoming this problem?”

“Of course. Well, we don’t have any accurate information on when the storm will pass, so all flights have been cancelled for the next few days. But I am happy to offer you a hotel room while we wait to book you onto the next available flight.”

“I’m sorry,” you pause, thinking over all the information and trying to decide where is best to start. “You don’t know when the storm is going to pass?”

“I don’t want to give you any misinformation, or false hope. All flights have been cancelled for the next few days and we are unsure whether the ones after that will be going ahead so I can’t book anyone on them yet. Please be assured you will be on the next available flight to Geneva.”

“But that’s just it, I’m flying into Geneva?” You realise you’re being rude, your voice rising in volume and squeakiness as panic and disbelief takes over. “Aren’t snowstorms common there? Don’t plane’s just, I don’t know, fly through them?”

“I’m so sorry miss,” the woman gives you a more genuine smile than you deserve.

“But I need to be in Geneva. It’s Christmas. I booked this flight with you so I would arrive in time to celebrate the holiday with my family. In Geneva. Not fucking Cape Verde.”

“Again, I can only apologise. We will be happy –”

“I picked this airline because I’ve always had good experiences with you. But maybe I should have gone with someone else.”

“All flights have been cancelled to Geneva, otherwise I would happily transfer you to a different airline at no cost to you.” She looks down at the screen in front of her, clicking away for a second before looking back up at you. “I can get you a flight to London, but again, due to the weather all flights globally have been cancelled to Geneva so it would be another problem of how you get to your final destination from there.”

“A flight to London isn’t going to fucking help.”

You bite your tongue, close your eyes as you turn your head to the side and take a shaky breath. You don’t know if she’s trying to be helpful or if she’s mocking you now. All you can see is red. All you can think of is of how much your sister is going to shout at you when you tell her. You can’t think of how rude you’re being. This lady is helping you as much as she can, it’s not her fault the flights cancelled.

“I’m sorry,” you pause, take another breath. “I just really need to get to Geneva.”

“I understand. And I’m sorry,” she almost sounds genuine even after how rude you’ve been and even after she’s probably had a long line of similar dealings. “Listen, I’m going to book you into the hotel, and someone is going to get in contact with you as soon as we can get you booked on a new flight. I know I can’t promise when that will be, but Christmas is still a week away, I’m sure you’ll get there in time.”

You nod, the anger seeping out of you as you realise that there truly is nothing you can do. You’re stuck on this island. Sure, you could fly off it, closer to your destination, but you’ll just be stuck there instead. Closer, but still stuck.

“Ok.”

Her face does truly light up now. She looks down at the screen again, her typing ringing out around the now quiet boarding room. You give your details when prompted.

“I’ll print off a voucher that you will give to the front desk of the hotel. It includes a room as well as any food and drinks you want, please make the most of it. If you head out of the airport your luggage will be waiting for you on the conveyor belts and there is a bus to take you to the hotel,” she continues to tap away as she spiels off the information, only looking up to hand you the vouchers she’d mentioned.

“Thanks,” you say lightly, feeling completely deflated as all fight has left you, you take the paper off her.

“We truly are sorry for all of this. And believe me when I say that the first flight out of here, you’ll be on. The hotel’s front desk will be kept updated too as there will be a few guests staying in the same hotel in your position. But feel free to call us with any concerns.”

You nod, all the fight now out of you. What can you really do? You’ll just have to suck it up.

“Have a nice stay. At least you can get some winter sun and heat.”

It doesn’t feel like a good consolation. In fact, it feels crap, especially with the massive, thick coat currently hanging off your arm. But you nod and turn away from her all the same, bite back the words rising on your tongue.

You hear a chirpy “bye” the same second you meet the eyes of a man stood a few meters away, clearly still waiting for his turn to complain about the cancelled flight. He’s tall and handsome and is staring at you in a way that makes you realise that he heard every word that was just spoken, heard your pleas and complaints. A rush of heat in the form of embarrassment goes through you. You hadn’t realised you had an audience, let alone such a good looking one.

You tear your eyes away from him, duck your head down as you rush away, follow the signs that point you to the exit.

The lady wasn’t lying when she said you could enjoy some winter sun, even sat on the minibus, still sat dwindling outside the airport, air-conditioning on, you can feel the beads of sweat starting to build. You’re not sure if it’s the combination of heat and the layers of clothes you’re wearing in preparation for the snow you won’t be seeing today, or because of the phone that sits in your hand, or more accurately the name at the top of the message you have open.

The last message you have from Carys, your sister, is about her organising a pickup for you from the airport in Geneva. Carys and your mum had arrived a day earlier than you due to work and the fact you live in different cities and therefore would be travelling from different airports. It was easier that way, you remember convincing Carys when she tried to demand you travel all the way to them before then travelling together to Geneva. It made sense to go separately at the time, but now, stuck in Cape Verde, you can’t help but think maybe she was right.

She’s always right. Or she at least likes to think and tell everyone that she is. But then things do generally work out in her favour. The straight A student, landing the dream job straight out of uni, getting a boyfriend who your parents approve of and treats her well, generally the perfect daughter. She never fails to make you look like the unaccomplished one even after everything you’ve achieved; she always somehow tops it.

You love her as much as any sister loves each other. You get on, are happy when she reaches a goal. But it still doesn’t help make you feel any better about yourself. She’s the high achiever, you’re the strong, reliable one. Which is fine, but you know which one anyone would prefer to be.

You’ve typed out five different versions of the same message now, deleted every single one of them. None of them sound good enough. One made it sound like there was no problem, as if there’d only been a misunderstanding and you’d be on your way in no time; something that lady behind the desk had been firm to tell you wasn’t true. Another message had implied this was all your own fault, that you were so sorry, that you’d messed up. The others varied on being too vague and then too detailed. Basically, none of them sounded good.

You should just call her. It would be easier, possibly quicker, things less likely to get lost in translation. But you knew the shouting and tears you’d receive no matter how you delivered the message. She’s been harping on about how crucial it is everyone makes this Christmas in Chamonix to ski. It was dads favourite place, he’d have wanted everyone there, and mum needs us all to be together this year. She’d tell you she needs you there, that you can’t leave her alone to deal with mum.

There it goes again. You, the strong one of the family, as if you’re not also currently dying inside and needing to deal with your own grief. But for your family you’ll push that aside. For your mum you’d be strong enough.

Yet here you sit. Not there. Nowhere near there. Not helping, if anything making everything worse. Possibly about to miss the first Christmas since your dad died.

Screaming and possible tears were all you would receive if you text your sister or mum. And being the family fuck up, you can’t help but think you’d get a few huffs of this is so you and none of that is what you need right now. So no, a text would only make things worse, twist the message, make it look like you were avoiding them on purpose. A call it is, you can better manage expectations on a call.

You’re just deleting the line hey sis (you have never once called her sis, so why are you now?), when someone walks onto the minibus. You hear the bus driver announce they’re the last person and we will get on our way to the hotel in a minute.

Glancing up is a mistake. You once again make eye contact with the gorgeous man from the boarding desk. Now bent over so that his head doesn’t bang against the ceiling, you miss the smile that flicks onto his lips as you quickly look back down at your phone. Try to focus on the now blank message box instead of the heat rising in you, now from embarrassment and not the heat.

Pretending to focus on your phone becomes impossible when a large body plops down into the seat next to you.

“Phwoar, it’s hot in here.”

You’re met with an armpit when you turn to gape at the intruder. Clothed at least, and not smelly, so it could be worse, but it’s still not ideal. He leaves his arm in the air as he fiddles with the blowers that sit above you, none of what he’s doing seeming to work, but none of that seeming to put him off his attempts.

Incredulous, you look from his hand around the minibus. Yep, you’re not going mad, the place hasn’t increased in occupation since you last looked. There are at least three empty seats he could have filled where he wouldn’t be sitting next to anyone, and yet here he sits, next to you.

He doesn’t seem as bothered by the fact as you are. Maybe he thinks you’re someone else, someone he knows. But even when he’s lowered his arm and even after he gives you a quick glance and smile, you know that’s not true. He’s just one of those annoying people that takes up spaces that people so clearly don’t want them to take. What part of you shouting at the boarding desk lady did he not understand meant you aren’t in the mood for whatever this is?

“I guess it’s a good consolation though, I mean it doesn’t feel that Christmassy, but god knows I need some heat,” the man carries on as if oblivious to your clear annoyance.

“That’s what the woman at the desk implied,” you grumble.

“Skiing or snowboarding?” He either ignores or doesn’t hear your comment.

“Urm, skiing,” you reply.

He gives you a look as if weighing your answer and then nods as if it all makes sense. You’re not sure whether to be insulted or whether he’s implying he’s impressed. You go for being insulted.

He doesn’t reply though, his answer implied through his body language. The fact he doesn’t follow it up with a comment only helps to imply that he doesn’t approve of your answer. It also helps answer the question you definitely weren’t thinking, he snowboards. Instead, he looks around muttering to himself. It’s then that you notice the white, fluffy, thing that he holds in his arm.

“What’s the dog called?”

The question clearly throws him, and you regret asking it immediately. You shouldn’t be engaging him in conversation, you should be swivelling in your chair, putting your back to him, looking out the window. But he cottons on and the way his eyes light up seems to only emphasis the fact you shouldn’t have opened your mouth.

He swings the white toy out from under his arm, holds it up in both his hands as if it’s a child and gets its face to eye level.

“This is RJ,” he says as if it answers everything. “And he’s not a dog, he’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry,” you say, insincerely. “What’s that dog that owns him called?”

The man lets out a squeal as if deeply offended, shoves the toy, RJ, back under his arm as if to protect him from you and then frowns at you. The whole thing is highly amusing and also highly unusual. You force the smile down while also reasoning that this may be more evidence as to why he has chosen to sit by you and not anywhere else. Maybe the heat is affecting this man's sanity.

“I bought him at the airport. For me. I don’t own a dog. And even if I did, RJ would still be mine.”

You nod, slowly, raising an eyebrow at him before turning away and looking out the window. The bus starts to move as you stare. You pray to god that the hotel isn’t far away.

“I’m Seokjin by the way,” the man continues, now to the back of your head.

You don’t reply, don’t even turn to look at him. Rude, but he should already know that about you from the desk when you shouted at the woman. Plus, he’ll be out of your hair soon enough, as soon as this bus stops you plan to never see these people again. Unless it's on a plane to Geneva.

“And you’re Y/N.”

Your head whips around at that, met with a sweet smile. Your eyes are wide, mouth possibly popped open in shock. Is this guy stalking you? Is that why he is sat next to you? Was that why he –

“I heard when you told them at the boarding desk,” he says, lifting every weight off your shoulder.

“Right. Of course.” When you had to hand over your details for the hotel voucher, makes sense.

“You seemed pretty upset,” he comments casually, but the words cut right though you. “I’m pretty bummed about not going snowboarding too.”

“I will be skiing,” you bite back, turning your head so you’re looking out the window again. “Just not as soon as I planned.”

“Right,” he sounds enthusiastic, still oblivious to your mood apparently. “Who can complain about two holidays in one? By Christmas we’ll be skiing, but for now we’ll be basking in the sun.”

You frown out the window. The airport disappearing from view. And then something clicks in your mind.

“Have the airline sent you?” You’re looking back at him now, your neck might get whiplash at this rate. “Are you damage control? Trying to appease my inevitable complaint?”

“Inevitable complaint?” He smiles, nodding lightly. “When we have been so accommodating. Paying for your hotel and board?”

Your frown deepens. You open your mouth to reply but are cut off by a squeaky laugh.

“You should have seen your face. No, I’m not employed by the airline. No, I’ve not been sent to do damage control. Though, maybe I picked a good seat if you think so highly of yourself, you know, so I can skimp some freebies off you and all.”

You roll your eyes. Of course. How stupid of you. No one would employee an idiot like this guy.

You turn back to look out the window, you hope for the last time. Even if this guy opens up the conversation again, you’re determined to ignore him. But that doesn’t seem to deter him. You think that even if he was sat on a chair alone he may have whittled on like he does as you go to the hotel. It’s not far, but Seokjin doesn’t shut up the whole way.

You fix your eyes firmly out the window the whole time while Seokjin goes on about snowboarding, RJ, what he’s hoping the hotel will look like. It all starts to wash over you at some point, like a radio playing in the background.

Not quickly enough, the hotel comes into view and the minibus stops. You can’t help but gape a little, it’s not quite a five star, but it’s way nicer than you would have thought. You imagined being shoved in a grotty Travel Lodge close to the hotel, something cheap as the airline is paying out for it. But this place actually looks nice.

“They have a pool and it’s only a five-minute walk to the beach,” Seokjin says from behind you. “I made sure to request a room with a sea view.”

He has a cheeky smile on his face when you look at him, not offended in the slightest you’ve been ignoring him.

“But the woman said to book the room with my voucher at the hotel desk,” you say.

“Ah, did she?” His smile widens as he watches you thinking back, no, she didn’t explicitly say that, but at the same time, yes, it’s almost exactly what she said. “You see Y/N, it’s all well and good screaming and shouting, but those who get the best things know that the way to complain is through charm.”

“Charm? I’d never associate the word with you.”

It’s not true, as you watch Seokjin stand up, towering over you while he looks down and shoots you an amused smile, you can imagine anyone and everyone falling down to do anything for the man. Still, you barely know him, and you still know you’d never let him know that. It seems he has a big enough ego as it is.

“You may not want to insult me,” his lips twitch knowingly. “We are back of the queue now. And I have the fabulous room. You may need my help at that check-in desk.”

You frown before looking around the minibus, everyone else having already left. Looking outside you realise Seokjin is right, the whole bus is now walking into the hotel. Not that many people, but still, he’s right, first come first to get the best.

“It’s a big hotel,” you huff even as you start to stand and gather your things. “I’m sure they’ll have something left for me.”

“I’m sure,” Seokjin agrees, following behind you as you make your way off the bus, you can still hear the smile on his lips. “That lady at the desk would have called ahead for you. It’s just a shame you didn’t think to ask her to do it in your presence. You know, so you could assure you got the best room.”

You grind your jaw. You miss the man who couldn’t stop talking about his plush alpaca toy. You thought he was annoying, but this man is truly asking you to kill him.

You step off the bus and wait for him to step up next to you before looking at him. To his credit, the amusement doesn’t fall off his face even with the thunderous look that you’re shooting him.

“Listen,” you start. “I’ve had a truly shit time. I need to be in Geneva now, not in a few fucking days. And I don’t appreciate you acting like we’re friends, because I don’t know who you are and I don’t want to know who you are. I also don’t want to hear you lording over me about your fucking fantastic hotel room. I will get a room, and you know what, I don’t care if it has a view of the sea or is the fucking penthouse. I’m only going to be here a night, max two, because then I’ll be in Geneva. Where I’m supposed to be. Not here, in this fucking shit hole, with you.”

The smile on his face lessens in intensity the further through your rant you get so that when you’re done he is almost straight lipped. But the look in his eyes has changed too. He’s now looking at you with that stare from the airport, the one that looks like he’s trying to work something out, trying to calculate something about you. You don’t like it, so you look away.

You take a breath, consider apologising, you’d definitely been way too harsh, had just taken your anger and frustration out on him. But it’s probably a testament to how you’re feeling that you don’t say anything, just set your eyes on the hotel entrance and walk.

Your leg bobs up and down as you look at your phone, your sisters contact glaring back at you on the screen. You try not to overthink it, just click the screen, it’s your sister for god’s sake, she’ll understand, your mum will understand, this situation isn’t your fault.

You’re sat in your hotel room, the view of the sea is as amazing as Seokjin predicted. There’s a big pool, you can hear the last few people splashing around, soaking up the last rays of sun. Your hotel is way nicer than you would have predicted given the airline are paying for it. A double bed, a large TV, a chair for reading and a small bathroom with a surprisingly large bath. It’s somewhere you’d love to stay for a week, just not this week.

Carys answers after the third ring.

“Why are you calling? I thought you’d be in the air by now?” Her tone is chirpy, happy, something you don’t expect to last long.

“Y/N?” She speaks after a silence you don’t fill. “What’s up? What’s happened?”

You take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Prepare yourself for the shit storm that’s about to unfold.

“I’m not on the plan. It’s been cancelled.”

“It’s what? But you’re supposed to be a few hours away.”

It makes you cringe how similar her reaction is to your own. You’re both stressed, but you thought you would have dealt with this better than her. You’re the strong one after all. Well, it appears maybe you’re not.

“There’s a storm, surely you can see it out the window,” you realise how your words could be interpreted so carry on quickly. “The plane can’t land, it’s not safe.”

“Ok, ok,” she says. “This is fine. So you arrive a day late. When’s the next flight? What time are you getting in?”

You push the phone away from your head, close your eyes again in an attempt to calm yourself.

“I don’t know Carys. They haven’t got any flights set up yet because they don’t know when the storm will pass.”

“Can’t you just fly somewhere else?”

“And then what? Be stuck there?”

“Well you can’t stay where you are. You can’t leave me here with mum. It’s Christmas for Christ’s sake. We’re supposed to be here, together. It’s the only reason we came to Chamonix. To be together. To be somewhere dad would have wanted.”

You want to cry at the tone she uses. She sounds desperate. You can understand, you’d probably feel the same in her situation. It’s not like your mum is hard work, but since your dad died, she’s not been herself.

It’s the first Christmas without him. Your mum needs you there, as Carys keeps so thoughtfully putting it. But more than that, you want to be there, need to be there. Christmas is always about family, but even more so this year.

You really don’t want to be stuck here in this stupidly nice hotel, you want to be in the cold, skiing, with your family.

“I’m sorry Carys,” you mumble into the phone.

“I’ll get onto the airline. There has to be something they can do, they can’t just abandon you there,” she seems to ignore your small apology, and still you’re reminded of how similar to your reaction at the boarding desk it is.

“I’m sure it’s fine Carys,” what you really mean, I don’t think there is anything you can do, just let it be.

“Keep me updated. We’ll get this sorted. You’ll be here before Christmas.”

She barely lets you respond before she’s saying goodbye and hanging up the phone.

You flop backwards onto the bed, look up at the ceiling as you let out a long breath. You try to bite back the tears but it’s so, so hard. You may have reacted the exact same way as Carys, but hearing it directed straight back at you only makes the situation sink in more.

It’s not your fault. You’ve not chosen to be here. You’ve not chosen to leave your family when they need you most at Christmas. So why do you feel so crap?

There’s a knock at your door. You’re pretty sure you put the sign on your door to say no housekeeping, but there’s that knock again meaning it’s not a mistake.

You groan. You’d fallen asleep pretty soon after ending the call with your sister, the exhaustion of the day catching up with you. Today your plans were to make the most of your food allowance in your room, with room service, little to no human interaction, possibly call the airline for an update, but that was it.

It feels early for someone to be coming to clean your room, but that logic doesn’t go through your head as you trudge to the door, just annoyance at having to interact with an unnecessary human.

You fling the door open harder than you mean to and the person on the other side jumps a little and then chuckles.

It’s not housekeeping, it’s Seokjin, the fact not squashing your irritation, only fuelling it.

“I’ve come to collect you for breakfast,” he’s way too chirpy, his whole demeanour the complete opposite to your own.

“I’m not going,” you state and then as if only just seeing him add, “What are you wearing?”

He perks up at your question, if that’s possible, his stance changes slightly as if to better show you his obscene outfit. Bright yellow swimming trunks paired with a pink and white checked shirt the tops few buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled to the elbow. He has sliders on his feet and a straw hat on his head. None of it matches. He looks ridiculous.

“Well, these are swimming trunks, good for when I take a dip in the pool later. This is a shirt, not as sure how to describe this, but as you can see –”

“I know what a shirt is,” you cut him off.

“Well, you did ask what I was wearing.”

You roll your eyes and try not to grind your teeth. Does he think he’s funny or is he really just like this?

“I more meant, you look ridiculous.”

He looks down at his outfit at that as if he needs to see if you’re right or not. It takes him a second before he looks back at you and shrugs, completely unbothered by your pretty rude comment. You’re never like this, never this rude to someone so openly. But this situation coupled with this irksome man is bringing it out in you.

“I wasn’t particularly planning on having a summer holiday. I didn’t pack for heat; this is all I had.”

He’s right of course. You’re not dressed yet, still in your pyjamas and hotel gown, but when you think about your wardrobe it’s all layers and thermals, the only cool weather attire would probably make you look as bizarre as Seokjin. You don’t apologise though you probably should. And again, Seokjin takes your rudeness in his stride, doesn’t seem too bothered that you’ve insulted him and then not apologised.

“So, breakfast?” He smiles at you.

“I was just going to order something to my room.”

“But if we go down we can also reserve some sun loungers.”

“I was planning on staying in my room all day,” you say the words with no shame, you don’t know this man, don’t know why he’s even at your door asking you to breakfast, you don’t care if you’re rude to him or if you brush him off.

“Well, that’s no fun,” and still he doesn’t seem bothered, doesn’t even seem to notice how you’re being so blatantly rude. When it becomes clear you’re not going to say anything else he takes a breath and carries on. “Listen, I know you’re pissed about this, but you should at least milk the airline for everything. We’re getting free food here, but we can use all the facilities too. You should make the most of it.”

He’s right; you know he is, he knows you know he is. It’s why he lingers, it’s why you don’t close the door in his face.

You should enjoy your time here, or at least attempt to, or if nothing else do what Seokjin’s saying and milk them of the free stay. You don’t have to do that in Seokjin’s company, but you kind of want to. He’s annoying and way too chipper all the time, but it would mean you’re less alone. Plus, he seems to do a surprisingly good job at distracting your mind away from all your current anxieties. He may not be you’re first choice, or even any choice after that, but he’s someone, and you feel like you may need someone at the moment, if only to get your mind off things.

You let out an audible sigh, roll your eyes; try to make it clear that you are less than happy about this. Seokjin still smiles widely before you reply as if he knows you’ve given in.

“Let me get dressed.”

The weather is stifling, without aircon it is almost unbearable, even lay on a sun lounger with a parasol blocking out the sun. There are kids screaming as the jump into the pool, a general murmur of noise from all the adults occupying the other sun loungers, a scent of chlorine and sun cream in the air. It’s relaxing enough, but it’s still a lot, not the kind of relaxing you were hoping for, in fact you weren’t expecting this Christmas to be anything close to relaxing, but it would still be a lot better if you were with your family.

It also feels far from Christmas, more like a summer holiday than a winter one. Still, the hotel at least is trying to make it look like Christmas. There were trees decorated in a red and gold theme when you entered the lobby. A few of the staff walk around with Santa hats on. Here, at the pool, there is tinsel hanging from the parasols, another decorated tree in the corner and some fairy lights you’re sure will look cute at night along the fencing. A nod to Christmas, but still the heat just makes it feel like an odd situation for you.

“Pina colada or mai tai?”

You look away from the book that you are struggling to read to Seokjin who’s sprawled on the lounger next to you. He’s still wearing that obscene hat even though he’s in the shade as much as you. Apparently, the look isn’t complete without it, what the look is you’re unsure.

“You’re going to drink at 11am?”

“It’s five somewhere, that’s what they say right?” He flashes you a smile before looking back at the cocktail list. “Plus, I don’t think I’ll be classed as the least responsible person in this place. That mum and dad over there are already on their second glass.”

You glace to where he tips the menu and sure enough there is a man and presumably wife sipping drinks adorned with cocktail umbrellas, their small child running away from them. It’s not the point you’re trying to make and Seokjin knows it. You chose not to say anything, just lift your book back up and try to show you don’t want to be disturbed. Seokjin obviously doesn’t get the message.

“So what are you going to go for?”

You let out a huff of air as you once again set your book down. Seokjin, as always, ignores your clear displeasure.

“I’m not going for anything Seokjin. Because as I said, it’s 11am.”

“And we’re on holiday. Don’t tell me you weren’t planning on drinking when you were skiing? Après skiing, isn’t that the whole reason to go?”

You don’t answer, look away from him and focus on the pool instead. No, you weren’t going to ski just so you could drink. And though skiing is technically a holiday, you knew it wouldn’t feel like that time you went to Venice with your best friend, it wouldn’t be like Magaluf when you were 18 and wild, it wouldn’t be like all those ski holidays with your family in the past. It would be fun, you hoped, but you also knew it wasn’t going to be a normal holiday.

You don’t know Seokjin, and he doesn’t know you. His comment and general attitude remind you of that. But also, that should be enough to not be rude to him. If he doesn’t know your situation then he doesn’t know that you don’t appreciate the jokes.

“What about a mocktail then? Or a dip in the pool?” His tone is different, but you hardly notice as you’re still gazing out at the pool.

Guilt is starting to seep into you. This situation isn’t your fault, you haven’t chosen to be stuck here, and yet you’re not making much effort to try and leave. The lady at the boarding desk made it clear there are no flights to Geneva anytime soon, but Carys is right, there are other ways to get there, you should be looking into that and not sat here at the pool.

Guilt not only about possibly enjoying a holiday you didn’t ask for, but also for feeling so anxious and kind of dreading the ski Christmas holiday in the first place. You knew it would be nice, but it would also be seeped in sadness, something that would happen anywhere in the world this year, but you knew that you were deemed the strong one out of your sister and mum; you’d be expected to be doing more of the heavy lifting this holiday. Something you could do, something you wanted to do, to support your family, to help them through. But also, what about you? Who’d be there for you?

Selfish. And another reason the guilt pulses through you.

A waiter walks past you with a tray and two glasses. You don’t take much notice of him until you realise he’s stopped and is placing the drinks on your side table.

“Uh,” you sit up straighter, turn to look up at the man who essentially ignores you.

He places the glasses down, turns and walks away before you can say you didn’t order anything.

“They’re non-alcoholic, don’t worry,” Seokjin picks up one of the drinks and starts to sip it through the straw. “Plus, they’re on the house. We’ve got to stay hydrated in the heat so may as well do it in style.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s a nice gesture even if you didn’t ask him to do it. Plus, you don’t really feel like snapping at him, all the fight in you having seeped out.

“Thanks,” the words come out as weak as you feel.

Seokjin looks at you, his eyes flick around your face as if trying to read you. There’s a couple of beats before he speaks and you fully expect him to ask you if you’re ok, to ask what’s wrong. But he doesn’t.

“It’s all thanks to BA I guess,” he says, his smile returning as he lifts his glass in the air in salute.

You nod your head, pick up your drink and tip it lightly in his direction.

You look back out at the pool. Watch as the children jump up and into the pool, scream as their dad splashes water in their faces. Your heart aches as you watch. You miss your dad so much, but at the same time you love watching moments like this, love remembering all the times you spent with you dad doing that exact same thing.

You start talking before you really think about it, all you know is you owe Seokjin an explanation.

“So, uh, I’m not actually going to Chamonix to ski,” your heart is thumping hard in your chest, you can’t meet Seokjin’s eyes even though you can feel his eyes boring into you. “I mean, of course I’m going to ski, but that’s not really the reason I’m going. God, I’m bad at this.”

You let out an awkward laugh, but Seokjin sits silently. Patiently waiting for you carry on when you’re ready. Why did you decide to tell him this? It’s not like it’s something you want to keep hidden, but it’s also not something you go around telling everyone, not a subject you voluntarily bring up or want to talk about.

You take a breath before carrying on.

“My dad died earlier this year,” you pause, expect apologises and comforting words to flow out of Seokjin, but they don’t. “Skiing was his favourite thing to do and Chamonix was his favourite place to do it. It’s the first Christmas without him, so me and my sister decided to take mum there.” Except I’m not there, you add silently.

You look at Seokjin when he still doesn’t say anything, expect to see pity in his eyes but don’t, there’s sorrow there but there’s also something else, possibly understanding. It’s more comforting than any words he could have said.

“He used to snowboard. I think he kind of hated that I took up skiing instead,” the corner of your lips tweak at the edges into something akin to a smile. Your mum and sister always avoid talking about your dad, friends avoid bringing him up like the plague, and while you can understand why it might be upsetting to some people, you’ve always found comfort in reminiscing. It’s nice to finally speak about him with someone.

“He’s right, snowboarding is better,” Seokjin’s voice is soft, the same small smile on your lips is on his.

“He snowboarded since he was young, went to the snow parks and did jumps on the ramps, everything. Even when he was a grown man, way older than anyone else there, he’d still go. I think he thought he could still keep up with them, used to come back to the chalet at night with this beaming smile on his face,” you let out a more genuine laugh now, picturing your dad walking through the door with snow all over him, clearly having wiped out but looking so proud of himself regardless.

“Sorry,” you say, as if remembering yourself, the smile falling off your face, head turning away from Seokjin. “I shouldn’t be talking about that.”

“Why not?” You can hear the frown in Seokjin’s voice. “If it makes you happy to remember, then you should.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, can see he means the words. Your heart swells even though you remain silent. You don’t thank him or carry on with stories about your dad.

“Right,” Seokjin claps his hands, beams as if nothing bad has just been discussed. “You coming for a dip?”

“Maybe in a minute.”

He nods, stands and removes his shirt before walking and jumping into the pool. Your eyes follow him.

You like that he offered but didn’t pressure when you said no. Your friends at home tended to fall into two camps, those who thought they knew best and wouldn’t let you say no, and those that didn’t know what to do so avoided all mention of what had happened. It wasn’t their fault, they were doing what they thought was right, but what Seokjin is doing felt so nice; giving you an option and then not forcing you. Well, he kind of forced you out this morning, but you can see now that was probably for the best.

You watch as Seokjin swims a few strokes, his large shoulders moving in a way that causes his back muscles to ripple. He stops when a ball falls near him and he childishly throws it back and splashes around with some children for a minute before carrying on his lengths.

Ok, so maybe he isn’t so bad.

“There’s still no news Carys,” you sigh down the phone to your sister.

You’re sat in your room, the sky fully dark now. You’d spent the whole day by the pool, had even taken Seokjin up on the offer of a swim at one point. The stress and anxiety had lingered the whole day but you had actually enjoyed it. Not quite the surprise, free, hot Christmas holiday that most people would imagine, or as enjoyable as you would have expected if someone had told you this would have happened a year ago. But still, far more enjoyable than when you initially found out this was your situation.

Still, you have to call your sister, keep her updated and let the stress seep back into you.

“Have you tried calling them? What did they say?” Carys asks.

You fall backwards on your bed, look up at the white ceiling, the colour somewhat calming.

“They said they’d get in contact when they know something.”

“They say these things Y/N, but they never do it. They’re trying to appease you, keep you quiet.”

“I’m going to be booked on the first flight out of here.”

“And when will that be? Do you know? No, because you obviously need to call them.”

You feel like you’re having two different conversations, as if she’s only hearing what she wants to hear.

“Well, I tried to call them today,” of course she did. “They couldn’t give me much detail because I’m not you, which is why you need to call them. Anyway, I’ve looked online, the storm is basically gone, I don’t see why they can’t resume flights already.”

“I’ll give them a call in the morning.”

There’s a pause, you can almost see the way her jaw is grinding in annoyance. But what can you do? You can call the airline, which you will do, but you know what they’ll say; you’ll be booked on the first flight, there’s no update and they’ll give you one as soon as they have it. Exactly what you’ve just told Carys.

“Listen, it’s late, I’m not going to call them now. The hotel is being kept up to date with everything because there’s a few others in the same situation here. I’ll talk to them in the morning, I’ll make sure they know how important it is I get there. I’ll sort it out.”

You hear a shaky breath being released from the other end of the phone and your heart cracks. There's a rustling as if she’s moving into a different room, further away from your mum.

“I need you here Y/N,” her voice is soft, whispered but full of emotion.

You close your eyes, the emotions welling inside you at the sound of her tone. You push them down, will yourself to stay strong, you won’t cry with her on the phone, can’t let her know how much this is affecting you, it’ll only make her more worried.

“Mum is heartbroken. We came here so we could all be together, but now she’s thinking we should have stayed home,” her voice is soft and croaky with emotion. “We came here for dad. He would have wanted us to be here.”

Tears are falling silently down your face, your heart cracked, but your voice still comes out strong, no indication of your current state.

“I don’t want to be here Carys. I want to be there with you. This isn’t my fault.”

“I know,” she sighs. “Sorry, it’s just, I don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll talk to the front desk first thing. I’ll get it sorted. I’ll be there soon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok Carys. We’re all stressed.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “Just, let me know how it goes.”

“I will,” you say before saying your goodbyes and ending the call.

You stay lying on your back staring at the ceiling tears running down your face. You don’t even climb under the covers, just fall asleep crying like that.

“Hi, can I help you?”

It’s early, you slept so poorly and your thoughts couldn’t get off talking to someone about the flight that as soon as the sun was in the sky you were up and dressed and on your way downstairs. At least you could get to the breakfast before most people ransacked it.

You step up to the desk and try not to fiddle with your fingers.

“Yeah, I hope so,” you say to the smiling man. “I was booked onto a flight in Geneva which got cancelled so the airline has put me up here. Anyway, they said you might have updates for me?”

“Of course,” the man seems to burst into action, moving over the computer and typing away. “So, I’ve not seen anything recently, but let’s see if there’s anything on here.”

You hum, tap your fingers on the countertop as you listen to him tapping away.

“Right, so, they’re still not booking people onto any flights yet. There’s an update on the weather though, it’s starting to clear, not enough for the time being but they think they’ll be getting people on flights on the 23rd which is the day after next and will mean you’ll land just in time for Christmas eve.”

He looks up at you and you continue to tap your fingers on the desk. How are you supposed to tell Carys that? How can you tell her that at best you’ve got two more days away from them?

“It’s obviously less than ideal, but we will of course do anything to make your stay here as easy and comfortable as possible.”

“Ok, thank you,” you say because what else can you say?

You give him a small smile before walking off, an improvement from the screaming at the boarding desk at least.

The restaurant is near empty, everyone choosing to lie in on their holidays. You make a tea and then pick a small table in the corner of the room, not hungry.

Your head flops down onto the arms you’ve crossed on the table. What a fucking mess. This literally couldn’t have happened at a worse time. You may still get to Chamonix for Christmas, but is that really the point? Maybe you should have asked that guy about looking into flying to a different European country and somehow getting transport from there. It’s not really his job though, it’s something you should do.

Fuck. Ok. So you’ll message Carys, tell her the situation and then you’ll spend your day in your room researching alternative routes to Chamonix. It’ll probably take longer, by the time you work out a new route it may even just be quicker to hang on until the 23rd. But at least you’ll be moving, at least you’ll be doing something and not just sitting here.

“There you are.”

You lift your head so your chin is resting on your arms instead of your forehead, enough so you can look up at the beaming Seokjin staring down at you. You don’t smile back, can’t muster the energy, and anyway, Seokjin has seen enough, knows enough now that you don’t really care around him anymore.

“Stay there. I’m going to get some food and I’ll be right back,” his eyes flick back to you a few times as he walks away, as if really worried you’re going to get up and go.

The most movement you achieve is sitting up and taking a sip at your tea. You look out the window, the view of the pool allowing you to see a sleepy dad laying out some towels in a prime spot for his family. A smile flickers on your lip at the sight.

“I’ve gone for an array,” Seokjin reappears, placing an abundance of plates on the table. One has a full English breakfast, another has an assortment of pastries, a third has a more continental style of watermelon and ham. “Pick at whatever you want, I can always get more.”

You watch as he stabs a sausage with his fork and shoves half of it in his mouth.

“I’m not really hungry,” you say meekly.

“Well, you’ve gotta eat something because I’ve booked a surprise for us,” he says before shoving the other half of the sausage in his mouth. “Well, a surprise for you, because I know what it is, but you get the idea.”

“Oh,” you look at him eyes finally focusing on him. He’s got a white long-sleeved top on, the sleeves pushed so they bunch around his elbows, the material tight enough to cling to his muscular arms and broad shoulders. He looks good and actually normal for once, though you can’t see what he’s wearing on his bottoms from here. “I’m sorry, I can't really do anything today.”

“Already booked to do some skiing?” He lets out a squeaky laugh, seeming not to care how much of a touchy subject that is with you. “I’m sorry, but really, you’ll love this surprise. Plus, bonus, you guessed it, the airline is paying for it, so it’s really a win on every level.”

“I need to work out how to get to Chamonix,” you say bluntly before reaching out and picking up a croissant.

“Ah, well, I actually looked into that last night."

Your eyes shoot back to look at him. He sounds nervous, his voice more awkward then normal. Did he really look into it? You guess he wants to get to Geneva too, it was his original destination just as much as it was yours, but he seems to be basking in the free holiday, not wanting to leave as much as you do.

“So, to get into the closest French airports are all a no go, either fully booked or cancelled. From what I could tell, you can fly to Paris but then we’re talking a seven-hour train to Chamonix. I looked into Lyon, but again some flights are being cancelled there, so that felt out of the question. You could look into Germany or Italy, but honestly, I think it will be the same sort of timing as Paris. I don’t know when the next flight is, but I’d say earliest you could get to Chamonix is early the 23rd.”

Your eyes dance across his face. He really did look into then. That’s what you should have done last night.

“You really want to get to Chamonix?”

“Oh, well, not as much as you,” he can’t keep your eye contact as easily anymore, his ears have gone crimson and he’s shoving a hashbrown in his mouth. Did he really look into all of that for you?

“Oh,” you sigh out the word, unsure what to say. “Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.”

You look back at your pastry, pick a corner off before putting it in your mouth. He’s a stranger, and yet he would be nice enough to do that for you? You really have been way too harsh on him.

“So, this surprise,” Seokjin says. “We have to leave the hotel at 10.”

“Oh,” you repeat as if it’s the only thing you know how to say now.

“Just wear something you don’t mind getting wet, and uh, I think they’ll give us everything else,” he carries on. “It’ll be good. I can’t wait.”

He seems so genuinely excited that you feel bad saying you don’t feel like going. But you really just want to stay here today, at most do what you did yesterday and lie by the pool all day. You need to call your sister, you should probably still look up alternate routes to Chamonix, there’s so many things you should do instead of going on this surprise.

“I’m telling you; it’ll make you feel so much better. It’s only going to be an hour or so and then we’ll be back,” it’s like he can read you like a book. “And you know what, I’ll even promise to help you work out how to get to Chamonix when we’re back.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you say softly.

“But I want to.”

You take a breath. It would be so much easier if he was a dick, you wouldn’t feel bad about pushing him away. But when he’s so sweet and nice and is just trying to help, you can’t help but feel like maybe you should just say yes.

You have no idea what he has planned, you feel like you’re putting all your trust in a man you barely know, someone who 24 hours ago you couldn’t stand. You look at him, see the small smile on his plump lips, see the hope swimming in his eyes.

“Ok,” you say gently but Seokjin jumps onto the word, his face erupting with joy as he begins to push plates of food in your direction.

“Great. You’re seriously going to love it. Now, eat up, you’ll need the energy.”

“Fishing?”

“Isn’t it great!”

“Uh, I’ve never been.”

You’re buckling up the high vis life jacket someone handed you, looking at the small boat Seokjin had pointed out to you when you climbed out of the minibus that drove you here. Fishing would have been your last guess of things you’d be doing today, it’s not something you’d ever thought you’d do if you’re honest.

“Apparently we could get a Yellowfin Tuna today or a Blue Marlin.”

He could be speaking a different language and he’d probably make more sense, you have no idea what he’s talking about, but he seems very excited, so you nod along.

“They’re massive, and beautiful. I’m so excited to catch one.”

“I’m guessing you fish in your normal life?” You smile, his feelings infectious.

“Not as much as I’d like to,” he says as you start to make your way to the boat. “And never in the sea, I normally go on lakes.”

“Wow, big day then,” you laugh, your voice full of sarcasm.

He bumps his shoulder against yours, the smile not leaving his face. “Just prepare yourself to get addicted.”

“I’m more hoping I don’t get seasick.”

“Dear Cod I hope you don’t.”

You narrow your eyes at him, a frown forming between your eyebrows as you watch him lean forward, shoulders shaking as a squeaky laugh escapes him.

“Cod – like God, you know, the fish,” you give a small nod at his attempt to explain the joke you got. “It was a joke.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you say flatly.

“Then why didn’t you laugh?”

“I don’t want to encourage you,” you reply but still have to bite the inside of your lip to stop the smile.

“At least I know I’m funny,” he replies, unbothered. “And you won’t get seasick, the trick is to focus on the horizon. But anyway, you’ll be way too engaged in fishing to notice the bobbing of the boat.”

You hum, not as sure you’re going to be as into this as Seokjin is suggesting. Still, you’re happy to just be doing something. Especially happy that Seokjin wanted to do this and thought of you when booking it.

The boat is small and as rocky as you expect, but it doesn’t affect you badly. You’re given a safety briefing and are shown the equipment before the boat sets off.

It’s another hot day, but the spray of the water coming off the boat and the breeze of the air is nice. You look out at the coastline, can see small dots of people playing in the sea, can see other boats bobbing on the water’s surface, can see the line of hotels lining the coast, can see the sun glinting off the ripples in the water. It’s beautiful. Even if you hate fishing, you’ll feel happy with just this.

Seokjin’s right, you already feel calmer. If you’d stayed in your hotel room you know your mood would have only taken a deep dive.

The boat comes to a stop, the man who gave you a small guide when you got on the boat starts to move around, picking up fishing rods and bait to give out to people. He hands you and Seokjin one, and while Seokjin holds his like an extension of his body you hold yours as if worried you’ll immediately break it. Possibly highly likely, that or you’ll smack someone over the head with it.

“Come on, I know a good spot,” Seokjin says before walking towards the back of the boat.

You’re not entirely sure how he knows a good spot when this is his first time here, but you don’t question it as you follow him.

You end up at the back of the boat, away from the group at the front, just the two of you, a view of the coastline.

“Right, it’s easy, all you have to do is cast like this and let the fish come.”

You watch as Seokjin pulls his rod back over his shoulder, does a weird little flick that you’re sure is much harder than he’s making it look, and the string and hook disappear into the water. Elegant, graceful, words you associate with what he’s just done, and yet you know will be the complete opposite for you.

You look forward, out to sea, and throw your rod over your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Seokjin’s panicked voice sounds out before his hands land on you, stopping your movements.

You look to your side, eyes wide as you’re met with Seokjin’s face now a lot closer. A beaming smile comes to his lips as he looks down at you.

“You haven’t put any bait on your hook,” he says.

When you don’t move Seokjin lets out a little chuckle before reaching behind you to grasp your rod. You watch as he hooks something onto the little hook at the end of the string and then drops it back behind you.

“There, now all the fish will come,” he smiles at you.

You look back out to the sea, your body feeling a lot hotter after that interaction. And just when you think it can’t get any worse Seokjin moves closer. His one hand comes in front of you, encompasses your hand on the rod so he can move it down and then goes to your hip so he can twist your body to the side.

“Like that,” he almost whispers the words into your ear. It’s not supposed to sound erotic, but the way your body reacts would make you think it is.

Flushed and embarrassed, you don’t think much as you fling the rod forward, are hardly aware of the hook flying over you into the water. But Seokjin is obviously more focused on the task at hand, as he steps away from you, his hands doing a small but fast clap.

“That was so good, well done.”

You turn and smile at him, see the genuineness in his face. You can’t look at him for long, have to look back out to the sea in an attempt to cool back down.

“You know, you don’t have to grasp the rod quite so tightly,” Seokjin chuckles as he picks his fishing rod back up.

You loosen your grip without looking at him. Still have a tight hold of it, worried that the smallest of tugs will have it slipping out of your sweaty hands.

“So you fish a lot?” You ask, still unable to look at Seokjin.

“My dad taught me,” you can sense the glance he does in your direction, but don’t react. “We used to go on Sundays, and it was nice to get away from everything. Just the two of you on a lake, chatting about our weeks and the feeling of catching a fish, there’s nothing like it.”

“That’s nice,” you comment, unsure what to say.

“Yeah, we still go from time to time now, not as often, but I’m always transported back to my childhood when I go.”

“I used to go to the cinema with my dad,” you say, glance to see Seokjin giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Not quite the same, we couldn’t chat during the film, but he’d always take me out for milkshakes after. It was our thing. A new film comes out and we’d be there. I’ve not been to the cinema since he passed.”

“You should go,” he says easily. “I mean, it would be hard I get that, but it might help. The things you used to do with your dad, I know when my dad passes, I’ll still go fishing in our spot and it’ll help me remember him. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll definitely cry like a fool and it’ll be hard, but it was our thing, and even without him here I can’t imagine not doing it.”

You nod, look back out to the sea as you think about it. Even just the thought of going to the cinema causes a lump to form in your throat and tears to well in your eyes. It never felt particularly special when he was alive, just something you did, a tradition, but at the end of the day you were just going to the cinema with your dad. But now, it feels like an impossibly personal thing you did together.

Maybe Seokjin is right. Just like how you want to talk about your dad, like to reminisce on all those funny things he used to do, maybe going to do something just the two of you did would help you feel closer to him.

There’s a small tug on your rod, not enough for you to think anything of it. But then it’s harder, your whole body lurching forward with the movement.

“Uh,” you say as you try and keep a grip. “Seokjin, I think I have something.”

There’s a clatter and Seokjin lightly curses but you don’t turn to look at him too focused on not trying to lose your rod. You go to reel it in, start to twist the handle so that the line gets dragged in. It’s hard, it feels like the whole thing is going to snap in half.

“Stop,” Seokjin is beside you, his whole body almost completely against yours, his hand coming down on top of yours to stop you. “Don’t wind. Let the fish go.”

“But -”

“Trust me,” he cuts you off.

You let it go, feel the line go slack, feel the fish pulling as it swims away and then the line goes completely slack as if the fish has stopped swimming.

“Now,” Seokjin makes you jump as he says the word, his hand tightening on yours as if to try and help you.

You reel the line back in again until the line goes taught and the fish starts to fight. You let the fish go again without Seokjin having to tell you. You feel his hand squeeze yours in slight delight before he speaks.

“That’s it,” he praises.

It takes longer than you’d have guessed to get the fish near the boat, patients and a steady mind. When you can almost see the fish over the edge of the boat Seokjin moves away from you.

“Now hold it steady,” he says and you can see him grabbing something out of the corner of your eye before moving back towards you. “Just keep it there,” he continues as he places a large net in the water.

You hold a breath. Anticipation and excitement bubbling in you as Seokjin starts to lift the net back up. There, in the bottom of the net, is a fish, hook in its mouth, flopping around slightly now it’s out of the water.

It’s not as big as you had expected, it felt like you were pulling a shark in, but this is about the size of a salmon. Not small, but certainly not big. Still, you start to almost jump with excitement, very unceremoniously dumping the rod on the floor as you go to Seokjin who’s removing the hook.

You never squeal, but you think a noise close to that falls out of your mouth as Seokjin holds the fish up to you.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim. “I caught that.”

Seokjin’s wearing a large smile, his eyes focused purely on your face as he pushes the fish further into your direction. You hold your hands out to take it off him and Seokjin gently directs how you should hold it.

It’s cold, slimy and a bit slippery. But you did that, had the patients and skill to catch it. You beam as Seokjin takes a picture and then you both slide it back into the water. You watch the spot it disappears from for way longer than you should before turning to Seokjin, that wide, proud smile still on his face.

“Let’s go again,” you squeal.

Seokjin doesn’t reply, just bends to pick your rod back up to he can add some more bait.

You’re almost bouncing off the walls to get the rod back off him earning a small chuckle from Seokjin. The two hours you spend on the boat, you and Seokjin spending time in comfortable silence while also talking about your lives. You get to know him more than just the funny and slightly weird guy you’ve known him as.

While you both catch a few more fish, neither of you get a Yellowfin Tuna or a Blue Marlin. You feel bad for Seokjin, he’d been so excited, you even apologise to him, but he still can’t get that stupid grin off his face as he looks at you. He says he doesn’t care, would have had the best day even if he caught nothing.

Back on dry land you and Seokjin part for an hour, you spend the time looking at alternative ways to get to get to Chamonix but soon find out everything Seokjin told you was right. There is no other way to get there. That is unless you want to spend hours on a flight to then spend hours on a train.

Your mood dips, but you don’t let it control you like you have before. You expected it to be the case, didn’t really think you’d be able to get to Chamonix any quicker than the airline is telling you. But there are thoughts of what if they push the flight back again? What if you can’t fly on the 23rd? What if the storm lasts longer than they expect?

You push those thoughts away, there’s no point even thinking like that now.

Instead, you focus on getting ready for the beach. You and Seokjin decided that you should sit by the beach instead of the pool, for variety as Seokjin put it. You keep busy by packing a bag, getting dressed, doing anything you can to keep your mind occupied now you’re alone.

Back in Seokjin’s presence you feel better, the weight lifting off your shoulders enough for you to function. It’s not like he even has to say or do anything, him just being near you is enough, not being alone is enough.

You spend the afternoon on the beach, reading in the shade, going in the sea to cool off, ordering those delicious mocktails Seokjin got on the first day. It’s nice, but all too soon you’re once again alone in your room.

Again, you try to keep busy, but there’s less to do now that you have nothing to prepare for. You riffle through your bags searching for nothing, refolding clothes that were perfectly fine before. You send a text to your sister, enough for her to know what’s going on, but after the call last time you can’t go through that again, so after sending the text you put your phone on your bedside table and try to ignore it. You go into the bathroom and shower the saltwater away.

The hot water helps, but it’s still not enough, that feeling creeping up inside you as you change and dry your hair.

Stood in front of the bathroom mirror you’ve run out of distractions, the steam from the shower slowly dissipating away, you’re met with your own reflection. You look hollow, the skin under your eyes sagging as if you haven’t slept in weeks, your eyes lacking any sort of emotion. Your lip starts to quiver and you know you won’t be able to hold back the emotion bubbling in you any longer.

You’re not entirely sure where it’s come from or why it’s only coming now, but it hits you like a wave. You can feel it creeping up and then all of a sudden it crashes down through you. Seemingly nothing but time setting you off.

You buckle to the floor, bring your knees to your chest as your body convulses with sobs.

It’s as if the weeks of stress and anxiety for this trip have only just caught up with you, everything you’ve been pushing down finally coming to the surface.

You miss your dad, you miss your mum, you even miss your annoying sister. You want to be skiing. You don’t want the guilt of feeling like you shouldn’t be enjoying your time here. You just want Christmas to be over. This time of year where everyone is so happy, and you just feel so down.

You hear your name being shouted. You’re distantly aware that Seokjin must have walked into your hotel room and is searching for you, asking if you want to go down for food.

Not now, you think, please, don’t find me like this.

You can’t stop the tears however hard you try, your whole body taken over in a way you can’t control. You pull your knees tighter to your chest, bury your head deeper into your legs, try to crawl into yourself as if that will help you disappear.

The bathroom door swings open and you hear the way Seokjin’s voice turns from happy to concern. Calling out your name before rushing towards you. No questions are asked, he just falls onto the floor in front of you, his long legs opening so there’s a space for you as close to him as possible, his arms encasing you as he pulls you into his chest.

“I miss him so much,” you babble into his chest, fully aware he hasn’t asked but you feel the need to explain. “I miss him so much.”

Your tears are making his shirt damp, but he doesn’t care, if anything he pulls you closer to him. His head resting on top of yours, so you’re fully encased in him, a protective bubble around you that’s wholly him.

“I know,” he whispers into your hair, his hand starting to rub soothing circles on your back. “I know, and it’s ok.”

He continues to say gentle words, makes soothing noises, holds you as you sob into him. This man, who could have left you the second you were rude at that boarding desk, who could have abandoned you any moment you were rude to him after, is here for you. He holds you until the last sob goes through you and then continues to hold you until you pull yourself away.

You remain essentially sitting in his lap as you look away from him and wipe at your tear-streaked face. You let out a humourless laugh before apologising.

Seokjin encompasses your wrists with his hands stopping your movements, the act enough to get you to look at him. His eyes search your face, full of worry and pain. He lets go of one of your hands so that he can gently wipe a tear you missed off your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is hoarse, it feels like your throat is clogged with cotton.

“Please don’t apologise,” he shakes his head from side to side as if deflecting your words. “You have nothing to apologise for.”

You give a small nod, unsure what to say. You take a deep breath, the air becoming shaky as you release it back out, but it feels better, you still feel like crap, but it all feels a bit better to let the emotions out.

“Well, thanks for being here then,” your voice is a bit stronger but not much. “I didn’t really expect you to be here.”

“Your door was open, and when you didn’t answer I just decided to come in,” he explains, his fingers gently brushing some hair off your face.

You’re silent for a second, sat against Seokjin’s chest, your head still cupped in his hands. It doesn’t feel awkward, in fact, you’d happily sit right here all night, but you know that’s not feasible. You only shift a centimetre but it’s enough to let Seokjin know your feelings. He stands and then leans down to offer you his hands.

“Come on, we’ll get room service in bed.”

You look up at him, eyes probably bloodshot and puffy from tears. He looks like an angel framed by the bathroom light behind him. That guilt from earlier pangs through you; you really have treated him like crap when all he’s been is nice.

“Come on,” he smiles and bends down to take your hands into his when you don’t offer them.

Pulling you up he doesn’t let go as he guides you into the main bedroom and only pulls away from you long enough to pull back the covers so you can get under them. He remains standing by your side as he picks up the room service menu.

“What do you fancy?” He asks as his eyes skim the page. “Pasta? Pizza? Noodles? What about a slab of the chocolate cake and ice cream?”

“Are you staying?”

He looks at you over the top his menu, eyes wide. “If you want me to.”

You give him a small nod. You feel like a child, Seokjin doing everything for you. But he doesn’t seem to care, just takes it all in his stride as he looks back at the menu again before picking up the phone and calling the front desk. He doesn’t double check what food you want, seemingly already knowing.

Once he’s put the phone down, after ordering a mountain of food, he walks around the bed and plops himself next to you on top of the covers. You look up at him, watch as he easily settles down and picks up the remote to turn the TV on.

“What we watching?” He asks, eyes firmly on the TV. “It has to be something Christmassy.”

“I bet your favourite is elf,” you say, your voice still flat even though you try to make it jokey.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who hates it,” he looks at you already offended, fully hearing the joke you intended.

“Arthur Christmas is better,” you shrug.

He smiles at you. “Then Arthur Christmas it is.”

You snuggle into the duvet as he finds it and presses play. Your eyes keep flicking to Seokjin, your favourite Christmas film on the TV and still you can’t concentrate on it. Seokjin doesn’t even look at you, just raises his arm so he can drape it behind you, his hand resting on your shoulder so he can lightly drag you into his side.

Your heart steadily pounds as you settle down, you both remain like that until the food arrives, only separate long enough to eat before settling back down into him.

You wake no longer in Seokjin’s arms, but you can hear his steady breathing. Twisting you’re met with his face, his mouth popped open, light gusts of air leaving him. He’s still on top of the covers, never climbed under them. He looks peaceful, his face void of that wide smile you’re so used to.

You have a desire to reach out and brush a hand across the strands on his forehead, but you refrain.

You lay staring at him like a creep for far too long, but he doesn’t wake and so you bask in it. He really is beautiful. You’d noticed since day one, when you saw him stood watching you at the boarding desk, but it feels like now he has even more beauty. You know it’s because of everything he’s done for you, his good looks coupled with his personality are a killer combo.

It’s dangerous, you know, to grow attached to him. Maybe it’s why you pushed him away for so long, because now he’s helped you emotionally, it’s going to be that much harder when you’re back alone. After all of this is sorted he won’t be in your life. You know where he lives, a few hours from you, close enough that you could see each other if you wanted, but far enough to make it difficult. And really, wasn’t this just one of those holiday flings? Not even a fling, because nothing has happened. A holiday friendship, one of those people you grow impossibly close to for a few days and then never see again.

Lay next to Seokjin now, looking at the way his eyelashes flutter against his skin as he sleeps, your heart threatens to crack. You should have never let him get close enough to allow this.

You roll, slip out of the covers and then trudge to the bathroom. You splash cold water on your face, try to gain some sort of composure, a better perspective of this situation.

Even if you’re feeling like this, Seokjin probably isn’t. Sure, he’s shown you a lot of care and respect over the last few days. Sure, he didn’t need to, doesn’t know you. But that’s probably just him. He would have done the same for anyone.

Your heart dips, something you assure yourself is nothing to do with Seokjin and wholly to do with the whirlwind of emotions leftover from last night. But even that thought does something to you. Last night. The way he held you in his arms. The way he tucked you into bed. The way he held you close to him.

What is this man doing to you?

You splash some more water on your face, brush your teeth and then go back to the bedroom.

Seokjin is sat up running a hand through his messy hair when your eyes fall on him. You watch as his tongue flicks out to moisten his lips, your heart flips at the simple gesture and your eyes quickly go back to his eyes. They’re still half closed, puffy with sleep, as he realises you’re stood in the corner of the room.

“Morning,” his voice is gruff with sleep.

“Hi,” you say more flatly, unable to control your emotions in this moment. Embarrassed from thoughts of how he found you last night. Flustered from being in his presence after he’s just woken up in your bed. Ashamed you’re even feeling any of this towards Seokjin, the man who makes jokes about fish and laughs at every single one.

You turn abruptly away from his gaze, go to the small kettle in the corner of the room and switch it on. You stare at it as if you’ve never seen one before, so interested in the way it boils water as if it’s magic, but really you just need any distraction from the man sat behind you.

“Don’t people piss in those?”

And so the spell is broken.

You still don’t look at him but roll your eyes nonetheless.

“Please don’t say that when I’ve been making teas from this.”

“Everyone knows it Y/N, it’s not my fault if you choose to ignore it.”

You risk looking over your shoulder at him, see the wide smile on his face. It’s devastating and though everything tells you to look away, you hold his gaze.

“Does that mean you don’t want one?”

“Oh god no, I definitely want one. The piss probably adds to the flavour, right?”

You frown at him but can’t hold back the small laugh, he looks delighted by the noise. You focus on making the drinks and when you finally can’t avoid it, you turn back to Seokjin, two cups in hand.

He pats the space next to him, the space you’d slept on last night. You heat further and focus on not spilling the drinks as you make your way over to him. He takes the mugs off you as you shimmy onto the bed and then hands one back to you when you’re comfy. There’s a beat or two of silence before Seokjin speaks.

“How are you feeling?”

Right, last night, the whole crying in his arms thing and then him sleeping in your bed. You’d expected him to ask and yet you still flush with the question.

“Ah, yeah, better thanks,” you say it awkwardly. “Thanks for being here and also sorry that you had to deal with that, with me.”

“Oh, no,” he seems genuinely surprised by your statement. “If anything I’m annoyed you didn’t tell me. Do you know how it felt to walk into you like that?”

“Sorry,” you say softly and though you’re not looking at Seokjin you can feel him shaking his head.

“Don’t apologise. Just promise me if you feel that low again, you’ll tell me?”

You nod your head only because you know that’s the answer he wants. But really, when will this happen again? The airline are hopefully going to reopen flights tomorrow. One more day with Seokjin. You should feel happy that this is potentially your last day here, isn’t that what you’ve wanted all along? And yet you somehow don’t feel happy.

As if reading your mind Seokjin speaks.

“Right, what shall we do today? I’m thinking something festive, I feel like we’ve not done much to celebrate the holidays yet.”

“Probably because it doesn’t feel very Christmassy,” you reply.

“They have Christmas trees in the lobby,” he says it with mock offence. “And what about the music. Mariah Carey makes everything Christmassy.”

“Not in this heat.”

“Ok, I take the point. Still, we can do something here.”

“Go on, what are you suggesting?”

He turns to look in front of you both as if in thought. He takes a sip of his tea, really ponders the question. It makes you smile.

After what feels like five minutes, but can only have been thirty seconds, he looks back at you.

“Snow angels, but in the sand?”

You laugh, full bellied, the kind where your eyes close and your body loses the capability to hold itself up. You flop closer to him as your laugh turns to a giggle.

“What?” He says lightly and though you can’t see him, you hear the smile in his voice.

It still takes you a second to recover. It wasn’t even that funny, but something about you this morning is causing slight delirium.

“You thought about it for that long and the only thing you came up with was sand angels?”

You’re still giggling, and when you look up at Seokjin the smile you imagined is sitting on his face. Your faces are closer now, but you don’t pull away, you stay close, bask in his warmth.

“Well, have you got anything better?”

Your eyes flick between his, try to memorise the different strands of brown you find there. If this is the last time you’re this close to him, you may as well make the most of it.

“Something Christmassy, in this heat?” You pause to think. “It’s not like they’ll have a Christmas market, though may be worth looking it up. We can’t exactly bake anything in a hotel or decorate a tree of something. Maybe we should just do a movie marathon.”

He smiles at you, eyes flicking around your face making you heat.

“We already watched a film last night, and I’m banning indoor activities,” he says it in such a way that you’re not sure if he’s purposefully making it sound like an innuendo or not.

You straighten, suddenly feel a need to create some distance between the two of you. You expect the smile to dim from Seokjin’s face at your move, but when you look back at him it only seems to have brightened, as if he knows exactly why you did what you just did.

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for something un-Christmassy then,” you say as composed as you can. “Anything you fancy doing on hopefully your last day here? Snorkelling? Sand-castle building? Skinny dipping?”

“Don’t push your dreams onto me, Y/N,” Seokjin beams.

“Just seemed like something someone like you would enjoy,” you mumble, wishing you’d avoided attempting to tease him altogether.

“Snorkelling, yes. I think we can borrow stuff from the lobby. Also, there were some cute pedalos we could rent,” you must have a look on your face that shows you need more convincing as he carries on in a more pleading voice. “Some of them had slides off the back. They looked fun.”

“For a six-year-old maybe,” you mumble but you know it’s only to try and save face, you know you’ll say yes to the pedalo. As the past few days have shown, you find it hard to say no to Seokjin.

The pedalo is as fun as Seokjin promises. He pays for, says he’ll send the expense to the airline and though you’re not sure if he’s telling the truth, you let him. You peddle out into deep enough water and then take it in turns to slide down the small slide, laugh when Seokjin screams so loud he swallows a lung full of water on entry.

He doesn’t baby you per se, but you can tell after breaking down the night before, he looks after you a bit more, is gentler around you.

You spend the designated hour you paid for on the pedalo before going back to the beach. You walk along the length of it, try to enjoy the heat until it becomes too much and then have to find some shade.

You go back to the hotel and drink mocktails in the shade. Do laps of the pool and chat about nonsensical things.

Nothing too wild. It’s calming and distracting and exactly what you need. It’s fun.

You eat so much you worry your trousers won’t fit you when you change out of your swimwear. You drink so many mocktails that the sugar starts to go to your head, and you laugh at Seokjin’s crap jokes so much you worry they actually contain alcohol. But really you know it’s because you feel more relaxed around him now, understand him better, actually enjoy his company.

There’s not a minute of the day you don’t spend apart (bar toilet breaks). You go to the restaurant to eat your food together and it’s only when you start to go back to your rooms that you start to think about that fact. You’d ‘slept’ together last night, or at least shared a bed and room. You really don’t expect to share one again tonight, but still, it feels weird to say goodnight to him.

You both linger in the hallway outside your room for too long. Become bashful as you say your goodbyes, but finally you turn away and slip into your room, closing your door behind you.

You bang open your door, it crashes on its frame, but you don’t care, you’re already halfway down the hall. Phone in hand, screen lit as you bang on Seokjin’s door.

It’s hardly been an hour since you said goodnight to him, not long since you were last together. But as soon as you looked at your phone and read what you did, you didn’t think as you started to run.

It takes him a second to get to the door and when he opens it you’re almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“They’ve got flights. I’m booked on a flight first thing tomorrow. I’m going to Geneva.”

You haven’t even told your sister yet, the moment you saw the email confirmation you were running to Seokjin’s room. He’s wearing a beaming smile, so clearly happy for you.

“Are you on it?”

“I haven’t checked.”

“Well look,” you push past him, walk until you’re cross legged on his bed.

You watch as he looks at his emails, anticipation bubbling in you as if he’s looking at his exam results not for flight information.

“Well,” you push when he takes too long.

He lets out a low chuckle, the noise goes right through you, causes your stomach to bubble and whirl.

“I’m on it. Quarter past ten?”

“What seat are you in?” You ask, looking down to check your own information.

“12b.”

You heart drops an inch. There’s not much that can put a downer on this moment but the realisation you won’t be sat by Seokjin somehow chills your excitement.

“I’m 33d.”

“But you’re going to Chamonix,” he beams at you, so obviously picking up on your disappointment and trying to lift you back up. “You’re going to see your family.”

“Yeah,” you beam at him. “Mum’s going to be so happy.”

He smiles at you, big and genuine, before looking back down at his email reading through it.

This is it then, you realise. You’re not sure what point your feelings toward Seokjin changed over the last few days but you feel sad that after tonight you probably won’t ever see him again. You don’t know him well only know who he is when he’s not on holiday. But you know how bad his jokes are, know the tone of his squeaky laugh, know he loves to fish and know what it’s like to be held by him while you sleep. It’s enough for you to want to know more.

“Shall we go out for celebratory drinks?”

Seokjin looks at you like you’ve grown an extra head. And really, you’re not surprised by the reaction, this is the first thing you’ve suggested doing, the only thing you’ve shown an interest in doing with him.

“I just figured, one more night, we may as well make the most of all our free BA vouchers?”

The smile starts to spread back on his face and the anxiety that had started to spread in you slowly disappears at the prospect of him being onboard.

“If we’re drinking, I should make sure I’m fully packed now,” he says.

“Ok, meet outside your room in half an hour?”

He gives you a firm nod, “I look forward to it.”

You linger, eyes looking all over his face as you smile back at him. He lets out a small laugh, the noise breaking you out of your trance. You flush, apologise, before turning abruptly and leaving the hotel room.

“I knew you’d be a Mai Tai person,” Seokjin bellows at you across the loud bar. “I only asked out of politeness that first day, but I knew you wouldn’t go for a pina colada.”

You hum up at him, a noise you’re sure he can’t here, but he can at least see the beaming smile on your face. Four drinks in, the sky pitch black, your minibus to the airport leaving in six hours and you feel so happy. For once you have no anxiety, whether that be because you know you’re heading to your family or because you’re here with Seokjin, you’re not sure.

“What did you think I’d drink?”

“Something sweet,” you shrug.

“Is that because of my amazing personality?” He accentuates the word and you naturally roll your eyes even with the big smile still on your face.

“And something pink,” you carry on.

“I love pink.”

“Noted,” you say before taking a sip of your drink.

“But, don’t you think we should be drinking something more Christmassy? Do you think they do Eggnog or mulled wine?”

You give a glance behind the bar as if the answer’s going to be written there. “Surely not.”

“Maybe we can ask them.”

“To whip up some mulled wine?”

“Yeah, I’m a paying customer,” he shrugs as if it’s no big deal, as if anyone could just easily make any drink at the drop of a hat. “It’s just red wine and spice.”

“Heated. I think that’s the key thing that you’re missing.”

“Listen, in this heat, the stuff will boil without a fire,” he beams at you, gestures to the room your stood in and to be fair, he’s not wrong. What with the heat lingering from the day and then all the bodies crammed together, it’s almost unbearable.

“Yeah, probably more a reason not to get it. I don’t want anything warm right now.”

He nods in agreement, takes another sip of his drink before speaking again. “Noted. We’ll just have to get one in Chamonix.”

He says it casually and your stomach flips. Does he even realise what he’s just said, what he’s implied?

We, as if this isn’t the place where your friendship ends. Hope sparks inside you, and you find it hard to drown it out. But again, you’re reminded of waking up this morning, of thinking that you could maybe see each other when skiing, but that would truly be the end.

You take a sip of your drink, look at Seokjin who’s completely oblivious to your inner turmoil. His head is lightly bopping to the song playing in the background, straw pushed between his plump lips, cheeks puffy as he sucks up his drink. He’d look cute if it wasn’t for his hair pushed off his forehead. You know it’s just because he’s warm, wants his hair off his face, but it also makes him look incredibly hot. You’ve seen more than one person eyeing him tonight, but none have approached, whether that be because of your presence, or because Seokjin hasn’t looked remotely interested in anyone, you’re not sure.

You’re not even aware of the song changing, are too caught up in ogling Seokjin to notice. But his eyes widen and then he’s turning to you.

“I love this song,” Seokjin says before downing his drink, slamming the empty glass on the bar top and then holds his hand out to you.

You look at his hand as if it’s an alien. You know exactly what he’s asking and you know exactly what you want to do, and though the two marry up, you struggle to take his hand.

“You’re supposed to take it Y/N,” Seokjin wiggles his fingers in invitation. “You know, so we can go dance to this song I love.”

You look from his hands to the eyes that are already looking at you, wide with expectation. He lifts an eyebrow at you, still waiting. You down your own drink, throw the contents down your throat before slapping your palm in his hand. You’re not sure if you’ve taken him by surprise, can’t meet his eyes as you end up being the one who drags him onto the dance floor.

The song Seokjin loves is Fireball by Pitbull. Not really the sort of song you can slow dance to and yet your heart still pounds in your chest. It’s like you’re at a high school disco and your crush has asked you to dance. But it also feels a lot more than that.

You find a space big enough for the two of you to dance around. Seokjin’s grip on your hand tightens when it threatens to leave his, he gives you a light tug, pulls you a step back towards him.

It’s not a slow dance, nowhere near, but the two of you are dancing together. Hands encompassed, as Seokjin spins you around, throws your hands in the air, to the side, between your bodies. You loosen with time, alcohol coursing through your body and Seokjin being Seokjin, you start to enjoy yourself.

You find yourself giggling as you watch Seokjin throwing some wild shapes and the noise seems to spur him on, encourages him to get wilder with his moves.

Songs blur into songs and now the two of you are on the dance floor you can’t seem to leave it.

You dance around each other, when your hands aren’t touching, it isn’t for long. None of it is sexual, no grinding on each other, no arms around necks and chests touching as you look into one another’s eyes. It’s dancing that reflects the cheesy bangers playing out. It’s playful and silly and fun.

You don’t have any more drinks, just continue to dance and though you are probably dancing off the alcohol, you still feel like you get more and more drunk. It’s not because the alcohol is only just hitting you, it’s because of Seokjin. Because of the way he smiles at you, the way he looks at you. Because of the way his hands always seek yours out when they’ve been out of his for too long, the way his touch feels against yours.

You become drunk on Seokjin.

The smile is still wide on his face as he dances around, seemingly oblivious to every feeling currently coursing through you. You can’t keep your eyes off him, the smile dipping slightly off your face, but only because you’re so focused on drinking him in that you don’t have the capacity to also smile.

It’s his hair, swept off his forehead showing off those thick, strong eyebrows. It’s the perfect row of white teeth, the plump lips and the way his tongue occasionally runs along them. It’s his neck, the way the top few buttons of his shirt are undone as if to better frame it. It’s his shoulders, the way they pull the shirt he wears taught, the buttons straining against his chest when he throws his arms wide.

But it’s also more than all of that. It’s something purely Seokjin. Something you can’t necessarily see but have learnt. You’re not sure what it is about this place or this night or the drinks you’ve just had, but whatever it is something seems to click in your brain as you look at him.

The smile drops off Seokjin’s face when he finally looks down at you, his movements becoming less wild as he takes you in. You don’t know if he can read everything you’re feeling on your face, you’re not sure if you want him to be able to or not.

He steps closer to you, your heart pounding with the movement as your eyes stay focused on his face. You swallow thickly, try to at least not show how affected by this you are, but the way that his lips turn up at the edges suggests he’s cottoned on.

His hand starts down by yours but moves in a ghost like touch up your arm, along your shoulder before finally cupping your cheek. His thumb smooths the skin under your eye and your eyes seem to glaze over. You still don’t break eye contact, it feels like there’s something, some sort of energy that you’re unable to snap to look away.

Wannabe by the Spice Girls is blasting in the background, you can feel the bodies behind you jumping and dancing around as they crowd your space. But all of it seems to fall away, the noise, the heat, everyone. It’s just you and Seokjin stood in the middle of the dance floor, his hand on your face, his body pressed into yours, his eyes never losing contact with you.

You move closer, or maybe it’s him, though it’s possibly both of you. Dragged closer together. You push upwards while he dips lower. The hand on your face moves to cup the back of your neck while his other hand goes to the dip in your back, pulling you closer. Your hands go to the tight material on his chest, curl any spare material into your fists as you drag him closer. A silent dance, one so smooth it feels like you’ve done it a thousand times, but the energy flowing between you is so taught and your heart is pounding with such anticipation you can at least feel that this is the first time.

Your eyes flicker shut when you feel Seokjin’s breath on your face. You don’t immediately feel his lips on yours though, have to wait longer than you would have expected. It’s the moment you’re about to open your eyes to check he’s still there that they finally hit you though.

They’re as soft as you expected. The fact that they’re so large just makes everything that much better, they consume you, fully take you over. You can’t imagine it getting any better, it is everything you dreamed of and better, but that’s until his tongue swipes along your bottom lip.

You arch into him, try to get closer as you let out a low hum, an act you hope lets him know you want him to do that again. He takes the hint, this time his doesn’t draw away after he’s run it along you lip, it moves instead along the seam of lips. You open up with another low hum, allow him to consume you that bit more.

It’s hot and heavy, his arms stay where they are but he also bends one of his legs a bit and manoeuvres you over it. You resist the urge to grind down into him, but it’s so hard. After a few minutes you almost subconsciously start to move your hips a little on him and that’s the moment he pulls away.

He doesn’t retreat far and while your eyes are blown wide with the realisation of what you’ve done and that maybe you’ve just overstepped some sort of line, his are blown wide with pure desire.

“Shall we get out of here?” His voice is unusually deep as he places his mouth by your ear so you can better hear him.

You nod in response, and though his head is still next to yours so he can’t see it he must feel it as your hand is in yours in seconds and he’s dragging you across the dance floor and out of the loud bar. You’re giggling when you make it outside, the noise drawing Seokjin’s eyes to yours, a smile spreading on his face before he tugs you to him and reattaches his lips to yours. It’s sloppy and a lot of teeth as both of you are both smiling too widely to fully kiss properly.

You push against his chest with another giggle and Seokjin catches your hand before it can get too far away.

“I thought you meant back to the hotel, not the street,” the words are dripping with sarcasm as you smirk at him.

He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly surprised by your confidence, this is the first time you’ve acted like this this holiday, but you refuse to be embarrassed. It’s the first time in what feels like a long time you feel pure happiness and you aren’t going to try and dim it.

“Then to the hotel we go,” he says.

The walk isn’t long but you’re both giggling the whole way, neither of you able to keep your hands off each other. You stumble into the foyer and it’s the first time you attempt to be serious, but as Seokjin urgently tugs you to the elevator you can’t keep the giggle contained for long, especially when you watch him jamming the up button.

He pulls you into the elevator before the doors have fully opened and then repeatedly pushes the close door button. As soon as you’re once again alone he turns and pushes you against the wall, his body on top of yours as his lips go to yours.

It feels like there’s more urgency in the kiss now, as if now you’re so close to something more Seokjin’s finding it hard to contain himself.

His hands roam your body, go up and down your sides, squeeze at the flesh of your ass. You huff a laugh when his lips travel away from your mouth down to your neck, his hands still trying to feel every inch of you they can access. You flop your head backwards, the crown of your head hitting the wall as you give him more space to nip at your neck.

“You know there’s a camera in here,” you say, though you don’t push him off you.

“They probably get it all the time,” he replies, the words mumbled as he doesn’t bother pulling away from your neck.

You hum, eyes flicking to the small camera in the corner. “Do you think someone’s watching then?”

You feel the way his mouth turns into a smile and you could have guessed the words before he says them.

“Do you want them to be?”

You don’t answer, instead roll your eyes, an action his can’t see. Slowly, he pulls away from you, his head coming back level with yours, that shit eating grin back on his face.

“Is that some sort of kink of yours?” He asks. “Want me to push you up against the window for everyone to see later?”

You clench around nothing, not because of thought of people watching the two of you have sex, but more the implication that you’ll be having sex with this man soon. It’s pretty obvious, you knew that’s what was going to happen as soon as you left the bar, but hearing Seokjin say it, hearing him talk like this is something wholly different.

Still, you lightly smack his side, to show that no, you don’t want to have sex with him with anyone watching. You want it to just be the two of you, a memory only you will have.

He chuckles still highly amused. And when the elevator dings signalling your stop he pecks your lips before stepping away from you and out of the elevator. Your come to a stop next to him, both of you waiting for you’re not sure what.

“So, who’s are we going to?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, really?

“Fine,” he says, grabbing your hand and starting to move down the hall. “Mine has a nicer view anyway.”

You trail after him, become highly amused as you watch him dig in his trousers for his key card and then messily try to shove it in card reader, missing the first time but succeeding the second.

“Don’t you dare make any jokes about that,” he says lightly over his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you say sarcastically, stepping up behind where Seokjin has walked into the room so that you can lay your hands on his waist. “Nothing about how keen you must be to miss the card reader. No comments on how I hope your fingers don’t fumble like that when they finally get to touch me.”

You let Seokjin spin so that he’s looking down at you. You place your hands back on his hips as he puts his on your back, pulling you flush against him.

“I like this you.”

Your stomach flips at his softly spoken words. Flush at thoughts of how you’ve treated him over the past few days, at all the lows he’s seen you at. You know he doesn’t necessarily mean it as anything other than that he likes seeing you happy and confident, but a pulse of guilt still goes through you at the implications.

You keep Seokjin’s eye contact as you move one of your hands, watch as he sucks in a breath when your hands comes to rest on the growing bulge in his pants. Neither of you break eye contact or say anything as run your hand up and down can almost feel the way his cock twitches even with the many layers between you.

Seokjin’s eyes flutter with growing pleasure, his breathing deepens and the hands on your back clutch you as if to help ground him. But when you move your other hand and go to the button of his trousers his eyes fly open in surprise. As if he has no idea that this was your intention all along. Yeah right.

“Relax,” you purr the word out, moving your hands to his hard abs as if the touch will settle him.

You give him a second, and when he doesn’t say anything you start to sink to your knees. Seokjin’s hands loosen enough to let you go. They drag along the expanse of your back, lose contact when they reach your shoulders, but he’s quick to rectify that by placing a hand on your head, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face before cupping your cheek the same way he did in the bar.

“Fuck,” he sighs the word out, fully concentrated on your face while you’re fully concentrated on his still done up trousers.

You don’t grace him with a reply or even a look as your hands go back to your earlier task. It’s easy to drag the zip down, easy to tug the material of his trousers down and even with that massive bulge, it’s easy to drag his pants down.

You leave them hanging around his ankles, don’t care now that you’re met with the sight you wanted to see. He’s thick and though you can tell he’s not fully hard yet, he’s already very large. It may be cliché, but just proves to you that there is literally nothing wrong with this man.

You wrap your hand around him, apply some pressure as your thumb circles around his tip. Seokjin lets out a hiss from above you, his hand letting go of your cheek to rest on top of your head. You smile, satisfied with the noise and then slowly start to run your hand up and down his length. You’re both nervous and excited to get him into your mouth, you’ve never been the best with your gag reflects and you already know his size isn’t going to help, but you also so want him in your mouth, want to please him in every way possible.

“You don’t have to.”

You chuckle at Seokjin’s words, glance up to see his eyes fluttering closed in that fucked out way. It’s as if he’s only just thought that maybe he should let you know that you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But he never asked you to do this in the first place, never even hinted that he’d like you to do it. This is your idea and something you want to do, and clearly, something Seokjin wants to receive.

You look away from his face back to his now fully hard cock, your hand still slowly pumping him. You don’t answer his statement because if you didn’t want to do this you wouldn’t be doing it.

You hold the base of his cock in place as you swipe your tongue from his base to his tip. The hand on your head tightens and you smile before you fully take him into your mouth.

You don’t take him too deeply to start, just take what you can comfortably. Run your tongue in patterns as you bob your head. You stop at his tip and fully suck that before taking him back into your mouth.

Seokjin is almost panting above you. You can hear the low, soft noises he releases as his hand remains on your head. It spurs you on, makes you want to keep pleasing him. But it also pleases you. You can feel the dampness increasing between your legs and you have half a desire to reach a hand between your legs and relieve yourself, but you don’t.

Mentally prepared, you start to take him deeper into your mouth. You hear the sharp in take of breath from above you and feel the way his hand almost grips your head in a vice, but he doesn’t stop you. He’s clearly enjoying it too much to stop you.

You gag a little on him, your eyes tear up as your nose hits his skin, but you keep him there. Bob in small movements and enjoy the way he encourages you with a scratch on your head. All too soon though you’re drawing away, a string of saliva the only thing keeping you connected to him as you gulp in lungful’s of air.

Seokjin’s hand sooths the top of your head while you attempt to compose yourself. When you’ve caught your breath and go to pick up where you left off Seokjin steps away from you.

You look up to him all wide eyed in question. He let’s out a laugh, shaking his head.

“As much as I love seeing you on your knees, I think I said something about pushing you up against the window?”

He lets out another laugh at the look of surprise that passes over your face. It takes you longer than it should to realise he’s joking, not about enjoying himself or having sex with you, but about where it will happen.

You roll your eyes as you push yourself up off the floor. This time he doesn’t step away as you go towards him, just welcomes you with hands on your waist and lips on yours.

“You look ridiculous,” you laugh against his lips.

His trousers are still around in ankles, his cock out and still hard, and yet his shirt is still done up as if ready to party.

“I got the impression you always thought I looked ridiculous,” he says with pure amusement.

You hum in response, push into him forcing him backwards as your lips moving against each other. His legs hit the bed earlier than either of you expect meaning he falls backwards and you don’t have time to catch yourself before your falling with him. He lets out a gush of air with the impact of you on him but chuckles straight after.

“Sorry,” you laugh with him, twisting so that you roll off him.

“Where you going?” He follows your movement, rolls so now he’s on top of you, though unlike you, he supports his weight on his elbows.

He doesn’t let you answer his rhetorical question, just puts his lips back on yours. They move just as desperately as the first kiss, your tongues toying with each other as he shifts his weight down onto you. You’re still fully clothed, a fact Seokjin seems to notice the same moment you do.

He pushes off you, eyes raking your clothed body before settling back on your eyes.

“Shuffle up,” he nods his head in the direction of the headboard.

You glance in the direction before doing a double take.

“Get that fucking llama out of here,” you laugh at the plush toy you remember from the bus resting against one of Seokjin’s pillows.

“He’s an alpaca,” Seokjin corrects.

“I don’t care, I don’t want him watching me have sex.”

You don’t wait for Seokjin to do as asked, instead you awkwardly shift backwards as Seokjin stands. When you get close enough you chuck the toy as far as you can manage and then try to refrain a laugh as you watch Seokjin awkwardly jump around so that he can get his trousers off. The laugh fully dies when he takes his top off and he’s there, stood naked in front of you.

It’s a sight you could get used to. A position you could get used to; lay on the bed staring up at a naked Seokjin.

There’s amusement glinting in his eye as he looks down at you and all you think is that you need to level the playing field as your fingers go to the hem of your top and pull it up and off over your head. As planned, his amusement dies for a more wide-eyed gaze.

“Ok, fuck,” he says. “One sec.”

He turns abruptly and heads into the bathroom, his feet almost scrambling over each other. The smile is wide on your face as you make use of the time, ridding your body of clothes, so that when Seokjin walks back into the room, rolling a condom down his cock, you’re also fully naked.

“Jesus, it only gets better.”

You scoff while rolling your eyes, watch as Seokjin pumps his cock a few times as he walks over towards you, then crawls up the bed so that he is lay over you again.

“Hey,” he smiles.

“Hi,” you laugh.

He lightly kisses your forehead, moves to kiss your cheek and then the edge of your mouth before encompassing your lips. It’s soft, feels strangely more intimate than anything else you’ve done tonight. There’s passion there, a need for something more, but there’s also something else, as if each of you are pouring feelings into the kiss.

One of his hands moves from beside your head to your chest and the spell is broken, the desperation from earlier pours back in. His hand kneads at your flesh, his thumb and finger lightly pinching your nipple before soothing the spot. You arch up into him as he grinds down into you. The combination of his hand on your breast and his cock finding your folds becomes too much. Moans escape you but get swallowed up by Seokjin’s mouth which is still attached to yours.

“I think you mentioned something about hoping my fingers didn’t tremble when they were inside you?” He mumbles against your lips the same moment his hand leaves your breast and trails down your skin. “Shall we find out?”

There’s not enough time to answer Seokjin before his fingers find your clit. He doesn’t add to much pressure to start, just gently rubs a circle there, slowly adding more and more pressure. Just when he’s got the pace and hardness that’s hitting you just right though he stops. While you huff out some air in annoyance, he huffs out air in amusement.

His lips come down on to yours as if it’s his way of saying sorry. And while his fingers have moved off your clit it becomes obvious why when you feel them move through your folds until they start to circle your entrance.

It’s at the noise of your first moan that they dip inside you, as if the noise was the secret password. Your lips fall away from Seokjin as you arch up into him. He stays above you, looking down and watching your face contort in pleasure as his fingers pump in and out of you. You can’t open your eyes to look at him, don’t see the way he’s staring at you.

Your orgasm is quick to come, you blame it on the long build up to this moment, the anticipation so that when Seokjin’s fingers finally entered you it doesn’t take much. It could be down to his skill, because he is very skilled, knows exactly what to do with those hands, but you’d never willingly admit that to him. You’re pretty sure the way you came told him enough anyway. The way your back fully arched of the bed, the way your hips ground down into him, the way your forehead scrunched up in pure pleasure.

It’s now that Seokjin chooses to place his lips back on your skin. His fingers still in you, moving slowly now to help you down from your high as his lips peck along the skin of your neck. He’s patient, waits until your hands comb through his hair before he fully pulls out of you and away from you.

“Ready for something a bit bigger?”

You scoff. “Full of confidence aren’t you.”

“Well, if that’s how hard you come from my fingers then I don’t know, I don’t think it’s going take much skill with this.” You can see the vague gesture he makes down at his cock but you don’t follow it, just continue to stare at him with an unimpressed look.

“Not much skill?” You say as flatly as you can manage. “Then maybe I should help.”

You push on his shoulders and though he could have easily not moved, he does as you’re suggesting, hands holding your hips as he turns so that you twist with him. Now on top, Seokjin’s hands still on your hips, you move backwards until his cock is under you. You don’t press your weight down too hard, just enough for you both to feel the way he moves through your folds, his tip hitting your clit with every stroke.

“Ok, ok,” Seokjin sounds breathless even though all he’s doing is lying there. “I hate to be the mood killer or whatever, but please, can we just get on with it?”

You laugh, your heart dropping at the start of his sentence only to soar by the end. Is he really so affected?

You lean forward so your chest is on top of his and kiss him before moving your hand between your bodies so you can guide him to your entrance. You stop before he goes inside.

“Seokjin, you really are keen.”

“Fuck, I love it when you say my name,” he says it with a wide smile on his face, half joke, half serious.

You smile despite yourself, peck his lips before wiggling your hips and sinking down onto his length. Fuck, he’s big, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable or too much, just a lot. You keep going all the way until he completely fills you up and don’t give either of you time before you start moving. Truly, you don’t think there would be enough time for you to grow used to the feeling of him inside you, so it’s probably better to just start moving straight away.

It’s more of a grinding down into him, your chest still fully on him you can’t pull out too far. It feels good though, the slow grind of your hips down into his, your chests moving against each other, faces inches apart.

When it doesn’t feel enough you sit up on him, your pace suffering as you readjust, but now you can draw further up off him and crash fully down. You place your hands on his chest, use it as leverage as you focus on your rhythm and the feeling gathering in your core.

Seokjin is looking up at you, fully enraptured by you. Again, you don’t notice, your gaze is instead on the wall and the backs of your eyelids. You do feel the way that Seokjin’s hands tighten on your hips though, not helping nor hindering your pace, just there, clinging to you, feeling you.

The feeling builds and builds in you but doesn’t burst, you keep chasing it and though you feel amazing, could do this all night, it also somehow doesn’t feel enough. You lower yourself back onto Seokjin and peck his lips.

“Can you move?”

“Like this?” He asks.

“I don’t know. I just need it hard.”

He gets the idea. His hands now gripping your hips so that they don’t move as he drives up into you. You moan out at the feeling of him hitting your incredibly deep. How is he already making you feel like this?

“I thought you said you had no skill?” You’re not sure how the words come out of you, your brain too dazed to create too much coherent thought.

“I said I wouldn’t need much skill to make you come, not that I didn’t have any.”

His hand moves down your leg, grasps your knee and then flips you both so that he’s on top. He seems to never lose pace, his cock still fully in you and then just as quickly he’s grinding down into you.

You drag the leg he’s still clinging to over his back, dig your heel into him as if to pull him closer. But he’s hitting you just right. He literally couldn’t be doing anything better. His hips slapping against yours, before drawing away and then driving back in.

His head bends down to pull a nipple between his lips and the way his tongue flicks against it makes you arch into him while your hand goes to the back of his head. It’s a lot of stimulation. Your mind unsure where to focus, which pleasure to draw from. And the combination builds up to a crescendo, you reach a peak of pure pleasure before crashing down into it.

Seokjin continues to chase his own pleasure, his lips still on your nipple. You’re unaware of anything but the pleasure Seokjin is continuing to draw out of you, you think you may be making strained noises you hope the people in the next room can’t hear, but you’re also in no fit state to stop them or care.

You can tell that Seokjin is close when his lips pop off your breast and instead of his tongue you feel his hot breaths. You are still coming down from your own pleasure when his hips start to sputter, are just about to reach that point of overstimulation when he gives a few final slow grinds into you and lets out a strained noise.

He collapses on top of you, must be holding his weight partially on his knees as he doesn’t crush you, but he’s still fully sprawled over you.

You run fingers down his slightly damp back, trail unknown patterns there as his chest heaves into yours and he attempts to regain some composure. You like it, this soft moment after all that pleasure where you’re in each other’s arms. Like it so much that there’s a drop of disappointment when he finally pushes away from you and then pulls his now soft cock out of you.

“Do you want something? Water? Or a tea?” His tone is softly spoken as he perches above you.

You shake your head, no.

“You sure?” When you nod he gives a gentle smile before leaning down, pecking your lips and then moving off you.

Your eyes silently trail his movements around the room. Watch as he expertly ties the condom and puts it in the bin and then goes to get a glass of water. He downs a whole glass, his neck bobbing before he fills it back up and walks over to you.

He sets the glass on the bedside table before flopping down next to you, the bed wobbling making you giggle. His hand goes to your face, cupping your chin as he looks at you.

“You look happy.”

“I am,” you smile at him.

There’s something in the look he’s giving you that you can’t read and he doesn’t give you enough time to decipher it before he’s shuffling forward, planting a kiss on your forehead before encompassing you in his arms.

It feels safe against his chest. It feels nice to have his arms around you again. You move your feet to tangle in his legs and just bask in the feeling of Seokjin. You feel completely different to how you last felt when he held you like this, and yet it still brings you the same comfort.

“It’s so hot I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to lie like this.”

Despite your light tone, the way you’re trying to deflect the feelings coursing through you, Seokjin still moves so he can plant a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Just enjoy it for as long as you can,” he mumbles into your hair.

The feeling of his steady breaths combined with the feeling of his thumb rubbing soothingly at your back is enough to make you start to feel drowsy. You wish you could stay awake in this moment forever, but the post sex bliss gets to you and all too soon you’re drifting off to sleep

It’s like déjà vu, waking up in a bed with Seokjin beside you. But this time you’re wearing far less clothing and there’s a blaring alarm going off in the background. It’s not quite as picturesque as last time, but it strangely feels just as nice.

There’s a groan above the noise of the alarm and then a light banging as Seokjin obviously tries to seek out a way to quieten the sound. It takes him a second, but he eventually manages it. When he turns you’re met with the same sleepy look from the morning before.

“Morning,” it’s the same gruff voice from the previous morning too and it goes through you the same way.

“Hey,” you say back.

This is another difference. Last time you weren’t in the bed when he woke up, you had watched him sleep for a minute, but you’d gone to the bathroom before he was awake, had come back into the room after he’d woken.

Lay here now, staring at a just woken Seokjin, post sex, hits you like a tonne of bricks. He looks fluffy and soft and cuddly. You’re not touching, your bodies lay parallel as you look at each other. It would be easy to reach out and touch him, but neither of you do. Somehow it feels more intimate to lay staring at each other like this.

“Hi,” Seokjin smiles at you.

“Hello,” you giggle back.

There’s a few more minutes where you continue to just stare at each other. You feel like you’re having a silent conversation. Thinking about what happened last night: the drinks, the smiles, the dancing, the giggling back to your rooms, to his room. Then the making out, the need to be rid of every item of clothing. Like everything had built up between you over the last few days and last night was breaking point.

Well, it can break again if that’s the outcome.

“I can’t believe we’re flying out of here in a few hours,” he beams at you.

“Same,” you whisper with just as big a smile.

“I can’t believe we’ve only been here a few days, it’s felt like a lifetime,” he lets out a huff of a laugh but remains looking happy.

You don’t reply this time. The smile on your face dips ever so slightly as you search his face to try and work out where he’s going with this. His smile suggests good, but something about the words makes something uneasy tingle in you.

“And I can’t believe last night,” he finishes. “Like, wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” you reply, but your voice is losing the perky edge. Seokjin doesn’t seem to notice, just carries on.

“I mean, I really wasn’t expecting that,” he releases another small laugh. “Like, at all.”

“Ok,” you frown and again, Seokjin seems oblivious.

“What a way to end the holiday.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, turning onto your back so you can look at the ceiling and not Seokjin.

The words he’s just spoken run through your head though. You weren’t really expecting that, but at the same time, hasn’t this whole holiday been building up to it? Or at least since last night? And then the whole what a way to end the holiday as if that was all that was.

You’d poured a lot of feelings into last night, but maybe all it was to Seokjin was a bit of fun, a drunken mistake.

It’s partly your fault, you should have spoken about what it would mean before you did it. You’re in no position to have your heart broken. And yet that’s exactly what feels like is happening.

You should clarify, discuss everything, not jump to conclusions. But emotions are starting to bubble up into your throat and you know if you start talking there’s a strong chance you’ll start crying and you really don’t want that to happen.

You wouldn’t have taken Seokjin for one of those guys, not after the short period you’ve grown to know him. It just shows that even the nicest of men can turn out to be dickheads.

“And now we can spend Christmas with our friends and family in the snow. We’re really living the best life.”

Right. A ‘summer’ fling, albeit fraught with emotional baggage, but he got what he wanted in the end. Just in time for his Christmas holiday. Without you.

You try to remain hopeful that you’re misreading this situation, but any way you look at it is dismal. He’s not tried to arrange anything after this. Hasn’t asked for your contact details. Hasn’t tried to book a date. Nothing.

You feel stupid. Have you been blind this whole time? But then you remember the way he’s looked after you these past few days. The way he held you when you cried. The way he was so attentive to you last night. It didn’t feel like nothing.

You roll to the edge of the bed, scramble around on the floor for an item of clothing that will cover you. You settle for a large top you know is Seokjin’s but don’t care.

“Everything ok?” Seokjin is sat up watching your movements, a tinge of worry in his tone.

“Sorry, yeah,” you glance around, unable to look at him and his bare chest. He really does look devastating in the mornings.

“Want me to give you a hand with your bags or anything?”

You look back at him. He’s being sweet again. You probably completely misread the earlier comments, your emotions off kilter at the moment. But it still doesn’t take away from the fact that this is the last you’ll be seeing of Seokjin. Still doesn’t take away from the fact that last night was a mistake purely because it’s making saying goodbye that much harder.

“Uh, yeah, that would be nice.”

He gives you a gentle smile before getting out of bed himself.

You’re both packed, so it doesn’t take long to take your baggage downstairs and get breakfast before checking out. You feel weird leaving the hotel. A place you so dreaded walking into and not can’t stand to leave.

Seokjin stands in front of you at the boarding desk, like two lovers who are saying goodbye for a weeklong trip, will be reunited soon but even a week feels long. But this is different. You’re not lovers, not in a relationship, not going to be reunited. Just two people who got stuck for a few days together, who befriended each other, who slept together. Nothing more.

This is the end. Truly a goodbye.

Too many feelings are coursing through you and you try to convince yourself that they’re all because you’re finally going to Chamonix. Happiness to finally see your family, anxiety about what’s going to happen and how hard it might be. But there’s sadness lingering there, disappointment and regret, none of which you can fully connect to your family.

This is goodbye. The man that you once wished would leave you alone and now wish would stay with you.

It’s not going to happen though, you live separate lives, the only reason you know him is because of some mad coincidence. You’re heading to the same destination now, but even there you’ll be living separate lives, in a place that thousands will be it will be unlikely you bump into each other and you’ll both be so busy with your own plans to make time for each other. After that you’ll be back to your normal lives, he’ll probably forget about you, possibly only have memories of that one girl he helped comfort on that island where he was trapped before skiing.

Yeah, it’s better if now is goodbye. Not easier, but the smarter thing to do. You don’t think your heart could take it if you planned to meet up only for Seokjin to back out.

“I guess this is goodbye?”

You swallow as you look up at Seokjin. You really don’t want to cry.

“It doesn’t have to be,” he replies softly. “We might see each other in Chamonix.”

You nod, look away from him, can’t bear to see the hope shinning in his eyes. See each other in Chamonix, it feels like it only confirms everything you thought, he doesn’t mind seeing you for the next week or so when you’re close, but it would be too much effort to travel to see each other after that. This was purely a holiday thing for him.

You hate goodbyes. Who likes them? But since your dad passed away it’s made everything that much harder. And knowing this goodbye is final makes it harder. This is the last time you’ll ever see Seokjin and you can’t even look at him.

“Yeah, maybe,” you say weakly.

Both of you are silent as you shuffle closer to the boarding desk. You still don’t look at Seokjin, focus instead on a spot in front of you, watch as people hand over their passports and tickets and start to walk to the plane.

You don’t look at Seokjin, can’t see the way he’s looking at you, don’t realise the inner turmoil he’s having. Don’t see the way he is trying frantically work out what to say before it’s too late.

“I really liked spending time with you here,” Seokjin finally breaks the silence, and it’s enough to get you to look up at him. “I mean, I know it wasn’t easy for you, but I really did enjoy it.”

You search his eyes, try to work out if he’s saying this to appease you, to try and make the goodbye easier or because he’s leading to something else. You can’t read him. He looks nervous, but you put that down to this situation being a bit awkward.

“I mean it though; I’d really like to –”

“Next please.”

You turn away from Seokjin, realise that you’re next in line to board. You look back at Seokjin, wonder if he’ll finish what he’s going to say but he just looks at you and gives a small smile.

“You should go.”

“Ok,” your voice sounds small and thick as if you’ve had to force the word out of you.

You give him one last long look, then turn and head to the man at the boarding desk. You head towards the smiling man who has a Santa hat on his head.

“Hello, how are you today?” Why do these people always sound way too happy?

“Yeah, great thanks,” you say flatly, your tone contradicting your words.

“Geneva, are you off skiing?” He asks as he scans your ticket and then looks at your passport.

“Yep.”

“Well, have the most amazing time, and the most amazing Christmas,” he’s undeterred by your bleak mood, just beams at you as he hands back your documents.

Taking them off him, you don’t even look backwards as you start to head to the plane.

You walk down the air bridge, try to focus on your family that you’re about to see and not the man you’ve left behind. But then you hear some loud steps, someone running behind you and before you can turn to see who it is, a hand lands on your arm and turns you around.

Seokjin is panting lightly, his eyes wide as he looks down at you, cheeks slightly pink.

“You don’t regret it do you?”

Your heart pangs in your chest. Is that what he thinks, that you regret sleeping with him? Your face scrunches before you start talking.

“No, Seokjin. No, I don’t regret it. I –”

“Good, because I really don’t,” he cuts you off. “I really like you Y/N.”

Your heart gives another pang. What is he doing? And why is he doing it now? You’re steps away from the plane, can see people approaching behind him, why is he choosing now to break your heart?

“I can’t let you go without saying this,” he carries on, his hand still holding your arm, your eyes still boring into one another’s. “Please can we just –”

“Hi, sorry, can we get past?”

It seems to be becoming a trend that the two of you keep getting cut off. This time a couple behind you trying to get past so they can get on the plane.

You look over Seokjin’s shoulder, give the couple an apologetic smile. Looking to your side you already know there isn’t enough room for the two of you to make way for the couple to comfortably pass by.

Maybe it’s a good thing, the two of you are just extending the inevitable. You need to get on the plane at some point. Maybe it should be now.

“Uh, Seokjin, maybe we should just,” you raise your shoulder, a gesture you hope shows what you mean.

He looks where you point, eyes widening in realisation. When he looks down at you, they’re filled with something you can’t bear. You look away.

“Oh. Oh, ok,” he says, then glances behind him at the couple. “Sorry.”

A gentleman till the end.

You’ll never know what he was going to say. Never know what he wanted to say to you. You can’t look at him as you enter the airplane, both of you show your tickets, get sent down different aisles. You give Seokjin one last glance before leaving him.

Both on the same plane, going to the same place and you never see the man. Make it all the way to Chamonix without bumping into him. It’s good, you have to keep reminding yourself, better this way.

It’s not until you see your mum and sister stood waiting for you as you get off the coach that you break down. Wrapped up in their arms you cry not sure if it’s because you’re happy to be back in their arms or because you’re sorry for everything left unsaid. They hold you, cry with you, comfort you, and all you can think is part of you wishes it was someone else.

All I want for Christmas is playing in the background. A distant noise that’s drowned out by the noise of everyone who’s gathered inside the cafe. There’s a Christmas tree decorated in bright lights in the corner, tinsel hanging from any point it can, paper snowflakes have been cut and hung from string from the ceiling, mistletoe hung above the cash register.

Christmas has been and gone; though only just, it’s only the 26th. The day wasn’t as bad as you thought, full of more happiness than you expected. Chamonix was a good place to be, a place that helped you remember your dad for the happier moments, a place away from home that was still connected to your dad – a place far enough away that didn’t make it feel like you were running from it all. The shock of you being trapped before getting here might have helped too, made everyone realise how special it is that you can at least be together.

Tears were still cried. A lot from your mum, a lot in sorrow, but some in laughter.

You’d actually talked about your dad a lot of the day, shared memories, something you never thought you’d do with your mum and sister. It seems that time is a healer of a lot, or maybe it was just the Christmas spirit.

You’d eaten your weight in turkey and then gone for an hours ski. You thought you were going to throw up, but it was nice to be in the cold, to be on the slopes your dad so loved, to be with your mum and sister.

You still have a few days left before you fly home. The holiday not as long as you thought given the situation where you ended up somewhere you weren’t expecting. You all vowed to make the most of it, to ski as much as you could before you left, to keep busy, to spend time together.

In the café you walk to the end of the queue, your layers of clothing making it hard to move. They’re vital for outside but make everything hot and stuffy when you’re inside. The ski boots make you walk funny, angled in a way that means your legs are bent weird, the top of the boot digging into your shin. It’s not comfy, but at least everyone else in here is in the same boat. Your mum and sister have somehow managed to find a table in the corner of the room, pounced on it as soon as the people sat there stood up. It’s a prime seat that they can’t lose and therefore you’ve been told to get the drinks in.

You look at the menu as you wait, small snowflakes and mistletoe drawn on any surface there aren’t words. The queue shuffles forward at an almost excruciating pace. Why is it they always only have two people on when there’s a queue nearly out the door? Still, you make it to the register, order your drinks and then start the next wait, the wait at the end of the bar for your drink.

There’s a queue even at this end, more people having ordered than the single man making drinks can cope with. You’re in no real rush though, happy to stand and let your eyes wander as you wait.

It takes a second to realise your name is being shouted, another second for you to glance over your shoulder to work out who’s saying it. Your eyes are wide as they scan the room, try to find the location of the voice saying your name. It’s not the biggest room, but it’s densely packed so probably takes you longer than it should to locate the beaming smile and waving hand.

You don’t know whether to smile or not when you see Seokjin. Your heart does a weird skipping motion; you really didn’t expect to ever see him again and even though it’s only been a few days since you last saw him, it feels like a lifetime.

He does a motion with his hand to suggest you go over to his table. You glance behind you, half to check on the status of your hot drinks and half to check your mum and sister. Neither are a problem, your drinks are still going to take forever to make, and your mum and sister can’t even see you from here, don’t care what you’re doing. Still, when you look back at Seokjin you hesitate a second before walking over.

You’ve never been more conscious of the way you’re walking. In heavy ski boots you feel like an actual fool, especially when Seokjin’s eyes follow you the whole way. You shimmy between people’s chairs, push your way gently to Seokjin’s full table. All eyes land on you when you awkwardly come to stand by them.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Seokjin introduces you and there are a few knowing looks and some hellos are exchanged as you glance around the table, before your eyes finally land back on Seokjin.

“How was your Christmas?” He beams at you.

“It was good. Pretty chilled, but actually really nice,” you reply. “How was yours?”

“Manic,” he lets out a light laugh. “But also good. It’s been busy, but I’m happy we’re finally here.”

“Yeah,” you let the word out like a sigh.

Why do you feel so awkward? Why do you have no idea how to communicate with this man you felt so impossibly close to not long ago? Probably because you can’t get out of your head how things ended. Are trying so hard not to picture his face when you left him to walk onto the plane, are trying not to think about the words you exchanged, all those things he said implying that he wasn’t in it as much as you were.

But it’s near impossible. Seeing him now, everything comes flooding back.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come over here. Maybe you should have ignored him calling your name. You were praying to see him before, but now, met with him, it’s only making things harder, reminding you of what you can’t have.

“I’m glad I saw you actually,” his voice is softer, words only meant for you and while the rest of the table can clearly hear every word, they pretend to ignore you and talk amongst themselves. “I feel like we kind of left things in a bit of a rush.”

“Yeah,” you agree, because it’s true, though he’s acting like it wasn’t done on purpose.

“I mean, I was thinking how I don’t have your number to contact you. I don’t think I even know your last name to try and hunt you down on Facebook,” he gives an awkward chuckle but you can tell he’s serious, he’s been thinking about you, it surprises you.

“Oh?” The surprise you feel is obviously clear in your tone or on your face as then Seokjin’s face falls into a frown.

“Yeah,” he says it firmly, eyes searching your face before he carries on. “Y/N, did I say something to offend you or something?”

You don’t reply but his eyes continue to search you. You’re not sure if he finds an answer or if he guesses or already knew the answer, whatever happens when he starts to talk again his voice is softer and his words come out quicker as if he feels the need to get everything out before you can cut him off.

“I feel like we didn’t end things the way I was imagining. I mean, I know you were excited to get here and everything, but, you seemed kind of in a rush to get on that plane.”

Right, he’s really not beating around the bush. You glance around the table at his friends who are still trying to pretend to not be interested in your conversation. You’re clearly uncomfortable but when you look back at Seokjin he’s still looking at you, still silently waiting for an answer.

You owe it to him to at least talk about this. You have so many feelings attached to this too, it would be good for you to discuss what’s going on. It might kill you if you find out that you were right, that Seokjin didn’t view you as anything more than that holiday fling, but at least you’ll know.

You haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since you left him. Haven’t been able to stop thinking about what he was going to say to you before you left him. And now he’s here, it’s as if the universe is trying to tell you something.

“We don’t have to talk about it now,” he either sees your discomfort or realises the situation you’re in and the hordes of people around you.

“Yeah, sure, that might be nice,” you don’t sound convincing and yet the answer seems to cheer Seokjin up, the smile slowly returning to his face.

“Great,” he shuffles, pushes himself off the chair so he can reach a hand into his trouser pockets and then produces his phone. “Here, give me your number and we can work it out. Maybe go for a drink or something.”

You take the phone off him, distract yourself with adding your details, try not to remember the last time you had a drink together and what happened after. You know you must look flustered when you give him his phone back though.

“What are you doing after your coffee then?” He asks, there seems to be no motive behind the question, he’s just genuinely curious, but in your flustered state you can’t help but become even more flustered.

“Uh, I’m with my mum and sister,” you look over your shoulder as if to check they’re still there, you can just make out your sisters bright red jacket, otherwise they’re near invisible.

“Skiing?” He smiles, still so patient with you.

“Yeah, are you guys snowboarding?”

It’s as if the question is an invitation for the table to join in your conversation. The man next to Seokjin turns to look up at you through thick curly hair.

“Snowboarding is Jin and Jungkook’s bag. The rest of us are skiers.”

You look down at the man and smile but before you can reply someone else is chipping in.

“The rest of us are skiers? I think you’ll find Tae isn’t a skier Y/N. He’s purely here for the drinks.”

You’re thrown by the fact they’ve said your name. You have just been introduced to them, but the way they so casually say it, as if they know you, as if Seokjin has talked about you, just throws you. No one seems to notice, or at least no one makes a big deal about it as the conversation carries on around you.

“I’ve been on the beginners' slopes.”

“The baby slopes,” the man corrects.

Tae, as he seems to be called, shrugs, unbothered.

“Do you go on any of the jump's Y/N?” All eyes back on you.

“Uh,” you flick your eyes away from the man that asked the question and down to Seokjin who wears a comforting smile. You flick your eyes back at the man before you carry on. “I've gone on some, but I’m not very good.” You pause a beat before saying, “my dad used to love it, so I sometimes went with him.”

“We’re heading out there later. You should join us.”

There are a few nods in agreement, everyone seeming to be in on the idea. Tae even adds that you can just sit with him and watch if you want. It’s sweet, but there’s only one person’s opinion you care about.

Of course Seokjin has a hopefully look in his eyes when you look down at him. No pressure there, as always, but you can see what he wants you to answer. You let out a noise that shows you’re thinking about it as your eyes dance around Seokjin’s face, trying to read what he’s thinking.

Your name is called out before you can say anything else. Turning your head shows the man at the front has finished making your drinks and they’re ready for you to pick up. You look back at the group, see them still waiting for an answer.

“Uh, maybe,” you say weakly, but a ripple of smiles still shine back at you.

You say a light goodbye and turn to leave but are stopped by a hand on your wrist. A look over your shoulder shows Seokjin.

“If I don’t see you before, then check your phone. I’ll message you.”

He gives your wrist a light squeeze, a smile flashes across his face and then he lets you go. You give him a small smile before walking to get your coffees.

The tray is small and wobbly with your three drinks, that coupled with the ski boots, makes the journey back to the table slow and cautious. You luckily make it without spilling a drop.

“Who was that?” Your sister jumps on you before you’ve even sat down.

“Who?” You ask acting oblivious, looking down as you hand out the drinks.

“You know who.”

You really thought they couldn’t see you from over here, a room full of people and the coffee counter blocking their view. It seems your sister has heightened senses.

“Seokjin.”

“That is Seokjin?” She’s leant across the table, trying to get closer to you, your mum is just contently watching, sipping at her tea. “I’m sorry. You never said he looked like that.”

You shrug, cover your silence with a sip of your own drink. Of course you’d told your mum and sister about your non-holiday, had to give them a rundown of what happened, though you of course left out a lot of details. They were surprisingly ok with everything, though they generally seemed more chilled after you arrived, the stress of that situation disappearing seeming to take everything away.

“What run are we going to head on after this?” You direct the question at your mum, try to divert.

“No, no, no, we’re not moving on from this,” Carys cuts in.

“What do you want me to say? Yes, that’s Seokjin,” you say with a bit more bite than you intended. You take a sip of your drink to try and calm down. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect to see him here.”

“I still don’t understand what happened between you two,” your sister is more casual now, leant back in her chair with her hands wrapped around her mug.

You narrow your eyes slightly at her, did she not pick up on the way you don’t want to talk about this. She merely gives a small shrug and you let out a small sigh.

“I don’t know. He just doesn’t want to see me again I guess.”

“He seemed pretty happy to see you just then.”

“Well, I guess it was just a surprise for both of us.”

Your sister hums as if she doesn’t buy it. As with most things your sister does, the noise irritates your more than it should.

“He very clearly implied that he only saw our friendship as a holiday thing. He probably only looked excited to see me then because he said we should meet here but I thought it would be easier to end it rather than drag out the inevitable.”

There’s a small frown between your sisters eyes but you try to focus on the liquid swirling around your mug. You feel hot at the fact that you’ve just admitted all of that to your mum and sister, relationships are not something you would normally go into detail about, and though you’ve not gone into explicit detail, the connotations of what happened are still there.

“Implied? Y/N, are you sure you just didn’t misread the situation?”

She doesn’t say it nastily or to rub it in or anything. In fact, she says it gently as if knowing the way you would snap back at her. But you bite back the words and instead look at your mum for help. Luckily she jumps on it, starts to answer your previous question and your sister and her discuss different ski runs they’d like to do.

You tune out and they let you, all of you with a silent understanding not to talk about Seokjin.

Still, you can feel the glances they shoot you. And still, you can’t help but think that your sister is probably right. You’d thought it as soon as you jumped to the conclusion the morning after that night, after you’d so thoughtfully left him at the airport. But none of that takes away from the fact that being with Seokjin would be impossible, the only thing that brought you together an unwanted holiday.

You join in the conversation with your mum and sister, all decide on some routes that you’d try out that would take back to your chalet. It takes a second to get all your gear back on before heading outside and finding your skis in the mass that have gathered.

“Y/N,” that same voice from the café shouts out and you don’t need to turn to know who it is.

You concentrate on buckling up your skis, don’t meet the look you know your sister is shooting you. When you stand back up Seokjin is in front of you.

“Hey, I caught you again,” he smiles at you and then looks past you to your sister and mum. “Hey, I’m Seokjin.”

“We know,” your sister leans as far forward as she can without falling over on her ski’s. “I’m Carys.”

Seokjin shoots you a smirk that you know is him picking up on your sister’s comment. You try not to react and he only looks at you for a second, hopefully not long enough to see your flustered state. You watch as he takes your sisters hand and then gives a small bow to your mum when she introduces herself. God, you should be falling out of love with this man not more in love with him.

“We’re heading to the snow park if you fancy it?”

“Uh,” it seems to be one of the only things you can say around the man at the moment. You look to your sister and then to your mum before landing back on Seokjin. “I think we were going to –”

“No, you should go,” your sister cuts you off.

You look at her, eyes wide as if offended while also trying to convey that she should shut up. She seems to be oblivious or just chooses ignores you.

“Well, you can all come if you want,” Seokjin says, ever the angel.

“Oh no, I don’t think we want to do that …” your voice drifts off as you turn to look at your mum, worried if even the mention of the snow park is going to upset her. To your surprise she’s smiling.

“I think that would be nice actually.”

You share a shocked look with your sister. Your mum has been better than you imagined she would be this holiday, she’s cried, but you didn’t expect her to so willingly do something that was so memorable of your dad. She smiles at you and Carys.

“It’s why we came here isn’t it?” She says, looking between you. “It’ll be fine girls.”

“Are you sure?”

She gives you a warm smile and nods. “If it gets too much I can always go back to the chalet.” Then she looks at Seokjin and says, “it’s as if they’re my mother and not the other way round.”

You look to your sister as Seokjin let’s out a more than generous laugh, exchange a silent conversation with her. You came to be together, but also she’s right, she is your mum. You want to look after her, don’t want to see her upset, but she’s also a grown woman. She can look after herself and make her own decisions. It’s not really your job to be babying her.

“Ok,” you look back to Seokjin who’s smiling looking between you all. “Ok, if you’re sure?”

“I’m sure, come on.”

He waves his hand and starts leads the way back to where his friends are. You hang back, wait to make sure your mum and sister really are ok with it and aren’t doing it because they think it’s something you want. They seem genuinely happy to go though.

When you reach Seokjin and his small group of friend's, you mum and sister ahead of you have already started talking to the group. It’s kind of baffling to watch, the smile on your mum’s face, the laugh escaping your sister. And you were considering declining this invitation.

You all set off down the mountain, someone on a snowboard leading the way, Jungkook you assume. He cuts clean lines through the snow, easily keeping ahead of the group even though a few of them try to keep up with him, he easily darts away as soon as anyone gets close.

The rest of you spread out behind. You think you can hear strange noises that could be interpreted as giggles escaping your sister who’s doing a good job of keeping up with those at the front. And though you feel like you should stay back to check on your mum she seems to be enjoying attempting to teach Tae and whoever the girl is with him that keeps falling over is.

For what feels like the first time since you got on that first plane to leave your home, you uninhibitedly enjoy yourself.

The cold air freezes the small amount of skin you have on show, your cheeks, your chin, your lips. But the beaming smile doesn’t leave your face. You don’t try to go fast, in fact you carve large turns down the slope, try to elongate the route rather than make it shorter. Try to stretch out the joy.

The group all wait at the bottom of the slope, have to wait a lot longer for your mum, Tae and that girl, two of them covered in heavy snow, but all still smiling. You jump on the ski lift to take you to the snow park, end up sitting by a rosy cheeked man who introduces himself as Yoongi. He ends up being a very calming figure after the talkative group.

After all those thoughts of Seokjin and you hardly see him, don’t even talk to him.

You reach the snow park and while your sister and Jungkook almost leap onto the slopes, you take some time to take it all in. Yoongi skis with you to a quiet spot before realising that you probably want to be alone and then silently skis away, leaving you alone.

You very un-ceremonially plop down, don’t even take your ski’s off as you look out at the slope.

There’s a man taking on the big ramp everyone’s avoiding, he does a flip that makes you think he must be some sort of professional. There’s Jungkook showing your sister and one of the other guys how to best slide on the rails. Tae is still with your mum, she’s skiing backward over the small mounds, hands in front of her holding Tae’s, wide smile on her face as she teaches him the same way you remember her doing to you when you were young.

You’re so focused on the different scenes playing out in front of you that you don’t realise someone has sat down next to you. So caught up in the moment that you don’t realise you’re crying until a hand gently runs along your cheek to wipe a tear away.

“Sorry. You always seem to be wiping my tears away.”

You turn your head away from Seokjin, run a rough hand over your face to try and clear it before looking back at him.

“And you always seem to apologise when you don’t need to.”

You look away from him, the sight of the snow park a far easier sight to gaze at.

“So your Christmas was good?”

Great, and now he’s being awkward. As if reading your thoughts he carries on before you can even think to reply.  

“Ignore that. I’m being an idiot, you already answered that.” You finally look at him, his words coming out a bit more rushed and you smile when you see the just as awkward look on his face.

“What do you want to ask instead?”

He turns so you’re looking at each other face on. His eyes flick between yours, an almost pained looked there.

“I don’t want to ask you anything,” he slowly shakes his head and you start to frown. “I want to tell you what I was going to say at the airport. Or at least, something along the same lines.”

“Oh, ok,” you say limply.

This is it then. No time to prepare, you’re just going to jump right into it. You take in a breath as if it’s the last one you’ll be able to take in a while. Try to mentally prepare for what Seokjin is about to say while coming up with responses to statements you’re unsure he will say.

“I really want to see you again,” he starts and your heart stutters. You feel so on edge that you think he could have said anything and your heart would have had the same reaction. “I mean I was originally going to ask just to see you here, in Chamonix, but I guess we’ve kind of gone past that,” he lets out an awkward laugh letting you know how nervous he is. “So, I guess, now I want to say that I want to see you again past this. I wanted to ask for your number so I could message you. I wanted to ask you out for a drink when we get back home. I wanted to ask if I could get to know you, because I really like what I already know and I’d like to get to know more.”

It’s seemingly everything you wanted to hear and also everything you feared. You don’t know what to respond, how to respond. And you can tell that your silence is only making Seokjin more and more nervous.

“What did I do Y/N?” His voice is soft, barely above a whisper and slightly husky as if it pains him to ask or maybe to think that he’s hurt you. “Because I’ll do anything to make it up to you.”

“I – nothing, you didn’t do anything wrong,” the frown on his face suggests he doesn’t believe you and you sigh as you carry on. “I think I just realised that this can’t go anywhere after this. We don’t live anywhere near each other; it would be so hard for anything after this holiday to carry on.”

“But not impossible.”

You shake your head, look away from him and back to the slopes. It’s everything you’d hoped. Really you knew that this was how he felt, that he didn’t see this as just a holiday thing. You just read into it that way because it was easier to pretend he didn’t want you, then string a relationship along only to realise he doesn’t want you months down the line when you’re in too deep.

A hand encompasses yours. Seokjin tugs it lightly towards himself so that you have to look back at him.

“Do you not even think it’s worth a try?”

“Of course I do.”

He takes in your firm words, stares at you for a second before looking down at the slopes. You continue to look at him. He looks eternal like this. He looked great in the sun, but here, the white of the snow contrasting against his skin, his head now in profile to you as if to better exhibit his sharp jaw line. He makes your heart ache.

“I should have asked you for your number sooner,” he says in the same soft tone. “I should have clarified my feelings towards you. But, you were so sad and all I cared about was trying to make you happy. I didn’t think it was right to bolster in there with my own feelings. I thought you might have guessed because I didn’t exactly shy away from it. But that was until you left.”

“You were great,” you whisper.

There’s another pregnant pause. Neither of you seemingly wanting to say the words that both of you want to say. Seokjin gives in first.

“I can understand if you don’t want to. I will accept if we can only be friends. But I want to try if you do?” He looks at you, those big eyes sparkling with hope while yours only swim with more tears.

“Yes. I want you.”

You’re blubbering, tears streaking your face as Seokjin pulls you into his arms and half kisses your temple, half kisses the ski goggles you have rested on your forehead. You giggle through the tears. Pure, unadulterated joy.

Seokjin continues to kiss your face. Lips moving from your temple to your forehead to your cheek to your nose, slowly making their way down your face as you continue to giggle.

“I’m so sorry,” you say when he finally is eye level with you, his lips having touched every inch of your face apart from the one spot you want them.

“Stop apologising,” he scolds you with a wide smile on his face.

“I’ll never doubt you again.”

“Or at least talk to me about it.”

You smile at him. He’s sat so close, only a breath away, and your heart is doing weird flips because of it. The man you thought you’d never see again and yet here he is.

“I promise.”

He beams at you, clutches your head in between his hands before leaning in.

His lips are as soft as you remember. The kiss feels better as if even the few short days you’ve been away from each other have been too much. It’s short, but passionate, your lips moving together in an almost familiar fashion. You chase after him when he starts to retreat and you can feel the smile on his lips when he leans in a couple of times to peck yours.

“Come on, I’ll show you how good at the jumps I am,” he says, clambering to his feet before offering you a hand. “It’s almost as good as my fishing skills.”

“Not good at all then?” You beam at him, pushing your way down the slope before his hand can lightly slap your side. You hear his giggles following you all the way to the bottom. You have hope that this year will be better than last.

[beevean]

Season 2 was supposed to be peak. I was promised peak, before the torture fest that is Season 3 and “let’s fix everything ASAP” that is Season 4.

Well, fuck me if this is the best season.

We see more of the dynamic between the main trio, finally. Trevor lost most of his gruffness of Season 1 and is now more melancholic, perhaps because he spends most of the season cooped up in his old family home. I appreciated how they also tried to elaborated on the family lore, such as how the Belmonts originated from France but moved to Wallachia to hunt vampires. Sypha is still cute, nice and talented but a little spoiled and sheltered, compared to Trevor’s roughness. They finally start to build some chemistry in episode 4, where Sypha makes fun of Trevor’s name and calls him Treffy, and okay, they’re cute. By the end of the season, they put a smile on my face :)

And Alucard? For the first six episodes or so, Alucard is horrible. He’s nothing but smug and condescending (okay he may have an understandable distaste for the Belmonts, I get it, but you’re way more of an asshole than the supposed asshole Trevor), he calls Trevor “unreliable, emotionally damaged, drunk and self destructive” after a few days with him when Trevor did nothing around him to deserve these words (Sypha has seen more of his worse side than Alucard), he curses already, he says stuff like “Villagers, pitchforks and torches, that sort of thing” which is very much not how Alucard should sound... How am I supposed to take seriously the running gag of Trevor turning everyone around them into cussing assholes, when they start out that way already? (yeah we already know that literally everyone here swears like a sailor, even characters that really should not. I will get there.)

Yes, they handwave it by saying that Alucard is actually a teenager in an adult’s body. He’s still a jerk. And this only makes a Very Infamous Scene much worse.

Strangely enough, they say that he’s called by others Alucard, it’s apparently not the name that he chose for himself, although he adopts it. Weird way to deprive him of his agency? Ellis, darling, Alucard is a silly nickname no matter how you slice it, no need to change the lore :P

Anyway, he gets better at the end when he stops being an OOC jerkass, and he becomes more like his kind but self-loathing game counterpart. I guess I’m insisting on this because I genuinely didn’t expect to dislike him this much. Hopefully he gets better later on.

Well, the trio spends most of the season doing exposition and supposedly bonding. And I mean. A lot. Of Exposition.

At one point, Alucard takes 2 full minutes to explain the tragic nature of his father and another 2 to drive home how terrible it is that Dracula doesn’t want to “destroy the world”, he wants to kill humans, which will result in a sad, empty world. I get it, man. It is a genuinely harrowing description of how mad Dracula’s plans are, but it comes so out of nowhere and it adds nothing other than “we must stop him”.

Another weird detour is the one about Trevor’s name, which isn’t “local”. Get it, because Trevor’s name was changed by Konami of America and he’s actually Ralph in the original Japanese? The explanation is that he was named after a Celt who rode with Leon himself, and it should be spelled Trefor, which, a little random, but okay. Well, good luck trying to explain all the weird names in Castlevania :) I’ll especially wait if you’ll ever justify the Germanic Richter.

Sypha goes on another speech about how both Trevor and Alucard are sad, but Trevor is still there under his sadness, while Alucard is completely consumed by it. Very poignant, but I only see smugness from him so far, so thanks for telling me instead of showing me? Who talks like that anyway?

I did appreciate Sypha defending Trevor from Alucard’s assholery by pointing out that he didn’t get to grow up normally, something that Alucard should relate to. That was actually a normal conversation to have.

I also find odd how the Morning Star, supposedly a powered up version of the Vampire Killer, is found in a chest as a separate object - I’ve already seen a clip of Trevor double wielding them. Speaking of which, was the Vampire Killer named in Season 1? If it was, I missed it thanks to the sleep-inducing pacing.

Speaking of weird writing... Sypha. Darling. Baby. Why in the sheer fuck did you move Castlevania on top of the Belmont hold? Like, she doesn’t even try to explain herself, she’s just like “oopsie, my bad”. girl???????

Yes it gives us the genuinely awesome moment of Trevor leaving the Belmont hold in Alucard’s hands, which is one hell of a friendship offering if I’ve seen one... but still.

I don’t know how to feel about the decision to leave Alucard behind. In-universe, Alucard explained his reasons well, I don’t blame him. In a meta sense, it’s an odd decision to split the trio so early on, after they barely began to bond. And I know how it’s going to affect Season 3 :\

Onto the villain side! The war council gets introduced, and with this, Dracula’s portrayal takes a nosedive. While he was genuinely intimidating yet tragic in Season 1, here Dracula can’t even intimidate a room by yelling, and all the new OCs take turns into painting him as a dumbass who just wants to destroy himself with no logical thinking. Which is true, and an interesting thing to point at, but let’s just say that I’m very tired of OCs existing purely to make fun of the canon villain :\

Basically, Dracula is clinically depressed and getting worse. By the second half of the season, his modus operandi is “fuck it, I don’t care”. And I do feel sorry for him, I do, Graham McTavish is perfect in conveying his tiredness, and there is an excellent payoff at the end, but I only see a forced reason for the OC villains to be right and surpass him. I think I’m biased at this point :\

As for the OCs, you have Godbrand who keeps insisting that he doesn’t want to fight this war, that it has no order, why does Dracula trust two humans over his other generals, and most smartly, if Dracula manages to kill all humans, how will the vampires feed? Dracula doesn’t have an answer for that other than “welp i have stored blood”, which is not a good solution for immortal creatures. I don’t have much to say about Godbrand on his own, he wants to be funny but insightful at the same time but I just felt that he hogged too much screentime for someone meant to last 4 episodes.

Then you have Carmilla who can march to Dracula and ask him why hadn’t he turned Lisa, did he really want to keep a pet, and Dracula for some reason doesn’t turn her into a smear on the floor. This is hard to go through. And it gets worse.

Oh, Carmilla. You wonderful radfem #girlboss, you. You are the Starline of this show, without any of the cute shipteasing. It’s really funny to compare her to her game counterpart, who not only looked more frilly, but was one of the many Dracula simps of the series.

Here her design is more generically sexy (really, no skull motif? Boring) and, well, her personality is #girlboss. She’s a smug snake, she constantly speaks in a fake sweet voice, always with a hand on her hip, she #slays in her pretty dress and high heels, takes no shit from no man, her introduction is all about intimidating men, and no wonder fans love her, she has no depth other than “man bad” :^) (the implication that she and Godbrand have a sexual relationship is... uhhh interesting ig?)

The way her backstory is told is so forced too. She kicks Godbrand down the stairs to subdue him, and then rants about the Stupid Old Man who kept her prisoner. We don’t see how she was “bound” to her master, but we see her in her #girlboss moment as he murders him with a smug smirk on her face. God forbid we see her in a more vulnerable moment of her life. I feel nothing for her. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to feel nothing for her. I only know that at this point the mere sound of her clicking Girlboss Heels pisses me off and I want to use them to stab her in her obnoxious smirk.

Carmilla is the Mephiles of Castlevania. The show tries so hard to paint her as a Machiavellian mastermind, pulling everyone’s strings to get what he wants... but realistically, who is she dealing with? Dracula, who is depressed and doesn’t have the strength or will to fight her; Godbrand, who has only one braincell and it’s boat-shaped; Isaac, who agrees with her plan while knowing that it doesn’t benefit them simply to make her shut up (not that I blame him); and Hector. I am not impressed, I’m just constantly rolling my eyes because everyone is such a dumbass!

We have here another instance of weird writing, the running water rant, which is basically Carmilla, Godbrand, Hector and Isaac arguing about the validity of the superstition and what counts as current water. This smacks to me as Ellis trying to use logic to explain old vampire lore, although at least it’s not as stupid as the cross explanation in Season 4. Yes, vampires can’t touch running water because it was seen as purifying, much like garlic, and this is present in the games sometimes: Alucard in SoTN needs a relic to go underwater, and Joachim was imprisoned in the Dark Palace of Waterfalls, much like Carmilla mentions the ancient practice of burying vampires on small islands to trap them. So... I guess this is supposed to flesh out the lore? But it comes out of nowhere and, unless I’m proven wrong later on, it leads to nowhere. It’s a big filibuster that takes time from things like showing stuff.

“oh but these conversations make the show more realistic, it’s like how real people talk!” unpopular opinion then but I’m getting tired of all this pointless exposition, it’s not even that entertaining. All these people do nothing but talking, and I don’t feel a damn thing! And I adore dialogue, characters interacting is usually my favorite part of every story! Here, I’m not sad, I’m not amused, I’m not intimidated, I just want them to shut up. Godbrand is the only one who is mildly entertaining, but of course he doesn’t last long.

Oh, and people have already pointed out the inherent contradiction of a cursed zombie bishop being able to bless the waters. By all logic it shouldn’t happen - hello, the magic is called Devil Forging for a reason, maybe you shouldn’t drop it! But hey, everything to make Carmilla look as smart and powerful as possible, look at her, destroying Dracula’s forces like a total #girlboss! Or to yell that CHURCH BAD, in case we missed it the last 4383532 times.

Well, I’ve ranted enough. Positivity time! This won’t be long :P

The fighting scenes are still top quality (although admittedly the general animation has its dips), and I really liked the fight in the Belmont house. I have the smallest of nitpicks, which is that I would have preferred if Trevor stuck to the Vampire Killer/Morning Star instead of having a sword as well, but it’s no big deal. I also appreciated the more precise references to the games: while Slogra and Gaibon are a little “obvious”, I genuinely liked the inclusion of Malphas and the presence of four Save Room statues, that’s more deep cut. The sequence of Castlevania moving around Breila, being flooded with blessed water, and Carmilla jumping around with Hector in tow to avoid it is also actually original and cool. (it also has the only instance of “fuck” that made me genuinely laugh)

And of course, I can’t not mention episode 7, which feels like it was written by completely different people for a completely different show. First of all, Bloody Tears.

Chills. I love this track despite being used to death: I can only imagine how long time fans felt at the time.

I’ve watched the fight scene plenty of times, and it never gets old. Animation on point, good choreography, excellent use of every character’s abilities, this is the real peak of the show and I’m finally feeling something! It’s so good :D

Speakin of feeling. God, Dracula.

When I saw the scene of Dracula sending Isaac in the desert, I thought that it was a nice way to show how much he cared about his friend, but that it was also much dumber compared to how the manga justified Dracula being left defenseless (why are you sending away your best fighter?). But it was not about protecting Isaac at all: it was to ensure that he’d die in peace without Isaac laying his life for him. And, well, it got me. Finally, some good telling instead of showing!

(although sending Isaac in the middle of the desert with no help whatsoever is kind of cruel)

The ensuing fight is also awesome. After a whole season of moping around, we get a good reminder that no, Dracula is not to be fucked with. He shrugs off every attack, even the OP Sypha can barely scratch him. (and alright, him recognizing Trevor as a Belmont from his ineffectual punches is funny)

By the second half, it becomes more of a Dracula vs. Alucard fight (and tbf, the other two were clearly outmatched, although I liked the moment where Trevor supported Sypha with his back to allow her to push Dark Inferno away - yay, battle couple!); this is, of course, to fully explore the family tragedy, how much Lisa’s death wrecked both of them, and how Dracula is so lost in his grief that he’s beating his own son to death. Which leads to the absolutely best moment in the show, which still makes me tear up: “Lisa, I’m killing our boy” :(

This fucking sequence makes me cry almost as much as Lee’s death goddammnit I can’t handle this

if only this was the last episode. But no.

So, that was Season 2. Much meatier than Season 1, although still rather slow for most of its run, but I really thought I would have enjoyed it more, especially since I know the hell that it’s awaiting me. The core of this season was Carmilla setting up the stage to replace main villain Dracula, which I can’t say I found entertaining. Well, episode 7 was a masterpiece, but it took so long to get there, and episode 8 had to shit all over me.

... speaking of which...

:)

I had to split my thoughts into two parts. Because now, I get to talk about the Devil Forgemasters. And it’s going to be fun :)

[gffa]

Do you think one could follow the Jedi Code/Lifestyle in real life as a positive manner of living or do you think it only works in Star Wars? I asked this on r/Mawinstallation and the answers I got were either:

''The Jedi code is oppressive so no'' ( this was the most upvoted answer )

''The Jedi code works but only for the Jedi''

''The Jedi code requires the force to work and since the force doesn't exist in the real world, the code cannot work''

And finally, I got only a single reply that said

''Yes, the Jedi code does work in real life, that's the entire point of Star Wars''.

What is your take on this?

This is going to be sort of a long, roundabout answer, but the short version is: In the finer details, we're not space psychics, but as a general idea? Yes. First of all, what even IS the Jedi Code?  Are we talking about the whole “there is no emotion, there is peace”/”emotion, yet peace” meditation mantra, which we should point out is nowhere in the movies or TV shows, but is entirely in the novels and comics supplementary material?  Are we talking about a more generalized idea of Jedi philosophy?  And what, precisely, does that mean?  I mean, what’s oppressive about it and what scene evidences that that’s what the Jedi taught? Second, there are two talks that George Lucas gave that I think really illustrate this view of emotional navigation and how that impacts Star Wars and the Force: There’s the writers meeting of The Clone Wars where he talks about the light side and the dark side and there’s an Academy of Achievement Speech from 2013 where he talks about joy vs pleasure:     “Happiness is pleasure and happiness is joy. It can be either one, you add them up and it can be the uber category of happiness.     “Pleasure is short lived. It lasts an hour, it lasts a minute, it lasts a month. It peaks and then it goes down–it peaks very high, but the next time you want to get that same peak you have to do it twice as much. It’s like drugs, you have to keep doing it because it insulates itself. No matter what it is, whether you’re shopping or you’re engaged in any other kind of pleasure. It all has the same quality about it.     “On the other hand is joy and joy is the thing that doesn’t go as high as pleasure, in terms of your emotional reaction. But it stays with you. Joy is something you can recall, pleasure you can’t.  So the secret is that, even though it’s not as intense as pleasure, the joy will last you a lot longer.     “People who get the pleasure they keep saying, ‘Well, if I can just get richer and get more cars–!’ You’ll never relive the moment you got your first car, that’s it, that’s the highest peak. Yes, you could get three Ferraris and a new gulf stream jet and maybe you’ll get close. But you have to keep going and eventually you’ll run out.  You just can’t do it, it doesn’t work.     “If you’re trying to sustain that level of peak pleasure, you’re doomed. It’s a very American idea, but it just can’t happen. You just let it go. Peak.  Break. Pleasure is fun it’s great, but you can’t keep it going forever.     “Just accept the fact that it’s here and it’s gone, and maybe again it’ll come back and you’ll get to do it again. Joy lasts forever. Pleasure is purely self-centered. It’s all about your pleasure, it’s about you. It’s a selfish self-centered emotion, that’s created by self-centered motive of greed.     “Joy is compassion, joy is giving yourself to somebody else or something else. And it’s the kind of thing that is in it’s subtlty and lowness more powerful than pleasure.  If you get hung up on pleasure you’re doomed. If you pursue joy you will find everlasting happiness.”  –George Lucas And how I like to compare that to The Hijacking of the American Mind by Robert Lustig, MD, MSL, which is a book about how corporations have hijacked our pleasure centers to make us focused on reward over pleasure.  It talks about the exact same concepts, with only slight word adjustments, but otherwise might as well be verbatim: “At this point it’s essential to define and clarify what I mean by these two words—pleasure and happiness—which can mean different things to different people.     “Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary defines “pleasure” as “enjoyment or satisfaction derived from what is to one’s liking”; or “gratification”; or “reward.” While “pleasure” has a multitude of synonyms, it is this phenomenon of reward that we will explore, as scientists have elaborated a specific “reward pathway” in the brain, and we now understand the neuroscience of its regulation. Conversely, “happiness” is defined as “the quality or state of being happy”; or “joy”; or “contentment.” While there are many synonyms for “happiness,” it is the phenomenon that Aristotle originally referred to as eudemonia, or the internal experience of contentment, that we will parse in this book. Contentment is the lowest baseline level of happiness, the state in which it’s not necessary to seek more. In the movie Lovers and Other Strangers (1970), middle-aged married couple Beatrice Arthur and Richard Castellano were asked the question “Are you happy?”—to which they responded, “Happy? Who’s happy? We’re content.” Scientists now understand that there is a specific “contentment pathway” that is completely separate from the pleasure or reward pathway in the brain and under completely different regulation. Pleasure (reward) is the emotional state where your brain says, This feels good—I want more, while happiness (contentment) is the emotional state where your brain says, This feels good—I don’t want or need any more.     “Reward and contentment are both positive emotions, highly valued by humans, and both reasons for initiative and personal betterment. It’s hard to be happy if you derive no pleasure for your efforts—but this is exactly what is seen in the various forms of addiction. Conversely, if you are perennially discontent, as is so often seen in patients with clinical depression, you may lose the impetus to better your social position in life, and it’s virtually impossible to derive reward for your efforts. Reward and contentment rely on the presence of the other. Nonetheless, they are decidedly different phenomena. Yet both have been slowly and mysteriously vanishing from our global ethos as the prevalence of addiction and depression continues to climb.     “Drumroll … without further ado, behold the seven differences between reward and contentment: Reward is short-lived (about an hour, like a good meal). Get it, experience it, and get over it. Why do you think you can’t remember what you ate for dinner yesterday? Conversely, contentment lasts much longer (weeks to months to years). It’s what happens when you have a working marriage or watch your teenager graduate from high school. And if you experience contentment from a sense of achievement or purpose, the chances are that you will feel it for a long time to come, perhaps even the rest of your life.Reward is visceral in terms of excitement (e.g., a casino, a football game, or a strip club). It activates the body’s fight-or-flight system, which causes blood pressure and heart rate to go up. Conversely, contentment is ethereal and calming (e.g., listening to soothing music or watching the waves of the ocean). It makes your heart rate slow and your blood pressure decline.       - “ Reward can be achieved with different substances (e.g., heroin, nicotine, cocaine, caffeine, alcohol, and of course sugar). Each stimulates the reward center of the brain. Some are legal, some are not. Conversely, contentment is not achievable with substance use. Rather, contentment is usually achieved with deeds (like graduating from college or having a child who can navigate his or her own path in life).       - “Reward occurs with the process of taking (like from a casino). Gambling is definitely a high: when you win, it is fundamentally rewarding, both viscerally and economically. But go back to the same table the next day. Maybe you’ll feel a jolt of excitement to try again. But there’s no glow, no lasting feeling from the night before. Or go buy a nice dress at Macy’s. Then try it on again a month later. Does it generate the same enthusiasm? Conversely, contentment is often generated through giving (like giving money to a charity, or giving your time to your child, or devoting time and energy to a worthwhile project).       - Reward is yours and yours alone. Your sense of reward does not immediately impact anyone else. Conversely, your contentment, or lack of it, often impacts other people directly and can impact society at large. Those who are extremely unhappy (the Columbine shooters) can take their unhappiness out on others. It should be said at this point that pleasure and happiness are by no means mutually exclusive. A dinner at the Bay Area Michelin three-star restaurant the French Laundry can likely generate simultaneous pleasure for you from the stellar food and wine but can also generate contentment from the shared experience with spouse, family, or friends, and then possibly a bit of unhappiness when the bill arrives.       - Reward when unchecked can lead us into misery, like addiction. Too much substance use (food, drugs, nicotine, alcohol) or compulsive behaviors (gambling, shopping, surfing the internet, sex) will overload the reward pathway and lead not just to dejection, destitution, and disease but not uncommonly death as well. Conversely, walking in the woods or playing with your grandchildren or pets (as long as you don’t have to clean up after them) could bring contentment and keep you from being miserable in the first place.       - Last and most important, reward is driven by dopamine, and contentment by serotonin. Each is a neurotransmitter—a biochemical manufactured in the brain that drives feelings and emotions—but the two couldn’t be more different. Although dopamine and serotonin drive separate brain processes, it is where they overlap and how they influence each other that generates the action in this story. Two separate chemicals, two separate brain pathways, two separate regulatory schemes, and two separate physiological and psychological outcomes. How and where these two chemicals work, and how they work either in concert or in opposition to each other, is the holy grail in the ultimate quest for both pleasure and happiness.”                                – Robert Lustig, MD, MSL And then lets add in what Dave Filoni has said about the Force and the core themes of Star Wars:     "In the end, it’s about fundamentally becoming selfless moreso than selfish.  It seems so simple, but it’s so hard to do.  And when you’re tempted by the dark side, you don’t overcome it once in life and then you’re good.  It’s a constant.  And that’s what, really, Star Wars is about and what I think George wanted people to know.  That to be a good person and to really feel better about your life and experience life fully you have to let go of everything you fear to lose. Because then you can’t be controlled.        “But when you fear, fear is the path to the dark side, it’s also the shadow of greed, because greed makes you covet things, greed makes you surround yourself with all these things that make you feel comfortable in the moment, but they don’t really make you happy.  And then, when you’re afraid of something, it makes you angry, when you get angry, you start to hate something, sometimes you don’t even know why.  When you hate, do you often know why you hate?  No, you direct it at things and then you hate it.  And it’s hard because anger can be a strength at times, but you can’t use it in such a selfish way, it can be a destroyer then.        “These are the core things of Star Wars.“  –Dave Filoni So, the core things of Star Wars and the Jedi teachings (because Jedi teachings are basically almost word for word how GL described how the Force works) can very much be a reflection of real world teachings and ways to live by, because all of the above are about how GL viewed the world and what he wanted to put into his movies. Further, Jedi teachings are basically just reworded Buddhism + Acceptance and Commitment Therapy.  And both of those are very livable by our real world standards, if you so choose.  GL was very much about how SW had themes that were meant to be picked up on by the audience and even DF has said this:  “ Jedi have the ability to turn the tide, to make a significant moment, to give hope where there’s none.  That’s their ultimate role to play, to be this example of selflessness.  And that’s what makes them a hero, when no one else can match that heroic thing.  And then our job is to emulate that, to use that example, and further our own lives.” --Dave Filoni Ultimately, the Jedi are specifically focused on disciplining themselves (which GL has said is the only way to overcome the dark side, in that TCW writers’ meeting), probably to a degree most of us wouldn’t have the room to devote to, but that doesn’t mean that the broader strokes aren’t meant to be applicable to our lives or don’t echo real world teachings.

[delos-mio]

He Looks Up Grinning Like a Devil

Just a short, sweet, **light smut** and domestic fluff Logan one-shot. It's been a long. time. since I've posted a one-shot. Needless to say, I haven't been able to get this scene out of my head (also side note: in this universe, Juliet married a nice man after William fucked off forever and she is happy like she DESERVES). So, hope you enjoy! Thoughts and feelings always appreciated <3

-----

He told you last night that it’d be a long day, but you didn’t anticipate it to be nearing 11pm and for Logan to still be gone. There had been days like this before, but you never looked forward to having to wake up as well as fall asleep without his warmth by your side. Logan took awhile to finally settle down, but once he’d asked you to live with him, it was like a switch flipped on him and he became the one to cling to you. Two years later and it still made you smile when he pulled you into his lap once he got back from the office and demanded to hear all about your day while he looked at you like you’re the one who put the stars in the sky.

You finally decided to say fuck it and got ready for bed. Logan said it could be awhile, so maybe it was time to accept reality and prepare to fall asleep without him. Face washed, teeth brushed, and naked as the day you were born, you crawled under the covers before picking up where you left off in the book you were reading.

Right in the middle of a particularly exciting paragraph, a shadow lingered in your peripheral vision, making you jump out of your skin and clutch your chest. Logan leaned in the doorframe, laughing to himself at your brief panic.

“Asshole,” you sighed out with a smile.

Logan was still chuckling as he crawled next to you on top of the covers. “Missed you, gorgeous,” he hummed, pulling your lips up to meet his, a strong hand cradling the back of your head.

“Missed you too,” you mumbled into his kiss, unable to fight off a grin. “I didn’t think you’d be home so late.”

“I wasn’t planning on it either, but you know once my dad starts going, he doesn’t shut the fuck up,” he sighed.

Clearly not wanting to elaborate, Logan pulled back to look you over, really taking you in for the first time. A playful look danced in his eyes as he hooked his index finger over the edge of the comforter where it covered your chest.

“You naked under there?” Logan pulled back the duvet just enough to investigate for himself. You simply nodded, eyes fixed on his face.

Without another word, Logan slid under the covers and pulled your warm, naked body flush to his. Your stomach did somersaults when his dark gaze met yours with that ravenous look he got when all he wanted was to have you. He ran his fingertips lightly along your bare spine, making you shiver slightly in his arms. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he muttered before kissing you deeply.

Logan still managed to take your breath away every time he kissed you. Even after years of partnership, you felt like a teen finally getting to kiss her crush. Every move of his lips was reverent, emphatically expressing how there was nothing else in the world he’d rather be doing. Despite having a nearly 16 hour day, Logan still smelled so uniquely him- that perfect blend of clean laundry and amber you found so intoxicating. It was a scent you’d be able to place anywhere and one you loved to have linger.

As your make out session picked up even more steam, Logan let his hand wander over your chest. His fingers were light over the curve of your breast, not in any rush to a particular destination, simply reveling in your smooth skin and holding you close. The little flicker of anticipation in your stomach was quickly burning brighter and you found yourself arching your body further into him. Logan just smirked against your lips as he realized what you were doing. His touch moved down your stomach, petting slow circles into your skin as he continued to enjoy every minute that he drew out your torture. Logan always did have it in him to be a little tease.

“May I?” he asked, voice low and laced with lust. His hand rested just below your belly button, one of his long fingers stroking gently down, signaling where he hoped to be.

“Please,” you breathed out, sounding much more desperate than you’d planned on.

Without hesitation, Logan ran his index and middle fingers between your folds. Your legs fell further open on their own accord, an involuntary reaction to his touch. When he pressed the pads of his fingers firmly onto the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, you let out a long moan that simply couldn’t stay behind your lips.

“Mmm, already so wet for me,” Logan mused, his kisses moving down to your neck. The short hairs of his beard tickled as his teeth scraped the sensitive skin under your jaw. “The most perfect girl in the world.”

Your breathing became more labored as he continued to swirl his fingers along your clit, knowing exactly the amount of pressure you needed from him. He let his thumb take over and smoothly buried his digits inside your heat, making you gasp and groan. Logan loved all the little sounds he could draw out from you using only his fingers. They went straight to his head and only spurred him on further.

With just a little twist, just the tiniest adjustment, Logan’s fingers hit that sweet spot inside you dead on. Your eyes snapped shut as you writhed on his hand, trying anything you could to keep the contact. Logan lapped over the pulse point on your neck, humming in approval at your reaction to him. You distantly felt him pull away from your throat, but your eyes were still screwed shut as you wantonly ground down on his fingers. As you moved, something tugged in the back of your brain that told you to open your eyes, that you needed to see Logan.

You slowly opened your eyes and Logan’s gaze was hot on you immediately. He held your stare, a small lock of dark normally pushed back hair falling over his eye. He arched an eyebrow and bit down on his lip. There were still times you looked at Logan and couldn’t believe this man- this handsome, silly, impulsive, sexy man- was yours. This was one of those times. The look he gave you made your stomach completely bottom out.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, feeling yourself on the edge of peaking. He knew it as well as you did. The short breaths, restless hips, and string of curse words all signaled to Logan that your release was just around the corner.

“That’s my girl,” Logan smiled, still looking in your eyes. He adjusted to a spot where he could take your earlobe between his teeth and tug. “You gonna be a good girl and come for me?”

All you could manage was a whimper and nod. He ran his thumb over your clit once, twice before you were clutching his bicep, nails digging in hard as you tightened around his fingers, finding your release and panting against Logan’s skin. As your breathing evened out, Logan gently pulled his fingers from you, cradling you close and placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“Thinking about making you come was the only thing keeping me going today,” Logan said, kissing your forehead.

“Well, you certainly delivered,” you laughed. You rolled onto your side and tugged at his belt. “My turn.”

But Logan held your wrist still, shaking his head. “I just wanted to do that for you.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “There’s plenty of time to repay me,” Logan said with a devilish smirk. You both laughed a little before he kissed you one more time. “Come on, keep me company while I grab a drink.” He stood from the bed and held out his hand, which you happily took. On your way out, you grabbed your robe from the back of your vanity chair to throw on, but Logan caught the motion from the corner of his eye. He quickly turned around and snatched the cloth from your hand, throwing it blindly back into the bedroom. “Please. Like I’m gonna let you cover up,” he tutted, rolling his eyes.

“So, what? I’m supposed to walk around here naked while you’re fully dressed? Just for your entertainment?” you teased, leaning over the island in your kitchen.

“Yes,” he smiled, swatting your ass as he passed by on his way to the fridge.

“You’re so lucky I like you.”

“Oh, don’t I know it, princess.” Logan grabbed a rocks glass and some ice before walking over to the other end of the room where he kept his preferred alcohol. “Jules sent me a picture this afternoon of the girls at their soccer game,” he said offhand. He was trying to sound casual, but you knew better. Though he never particularly liked children and certainly was never going to have any of his own, the minute his first niece came into this world, Logan turned into a doting uncle, always eager to show off the girls and brag about everything they were involved in.

“Did they win?” you asked with a massive smile.

“Obviously,” he laughed, taking a sip of his drink as he walked back over to you. Logan pulled his phone from his pocket and pulled up his conversation with Juliet. And there they were- semi-toothless grinning on a field, holding a little gold trophy with a soccer player on the top.

“Oh god, they look so grown up,” you smiled.

“Tell me about it,” he sighed. “I think we should bring them something this weekend for winning their season. I don’t know, like a new playhouse or something.”

“Juliet is going to kill you,” you laughed. “Uncle Logan is going to spoil them rotten.”

“What can I say? I love to spoil my girls,” he winked, running a finger along your jaw. You rolled your eyes fondly, but a yawn found a way to creep out of you. “Wanna get back in bed, princess?”

“Yes, please.” Logan led the way back to your bedroom, almost letting you in before leaning down to kiss you one more time. “I love you,” you whispered to him.

“Love you too,” he smiled back, shutting the door to the outside world and leaving just the two of you to enjoy each other.

[evilzoldyck]

Goosebumps

You should have taken the offer to go through the Haunted House together with your friend. The ominously decorated attraction that appeared fun and harmless from the entrance now became unnerving as you lonely walked down the hall, hands gripping tightly to your chest. It was your friends’ idea to visit this low-key haunted amusement located in the middle of nowhere, deep into the woods and far from the metropolitan area where the main entertainment took place.

Initially, you were opposed to the idea as the infamous ‘Haunted House’ your friends extolled was too far away and thus didn’t carry any signal in the area. Also, the ticket fee for one was way too pricy that it was enough to sour your night despite one of your friends, Jay, offering to spot you in which you politely declined.

The drive was far and so the place was about to close up soon when you arrived and after seeing all your friends’ enthusiasm in the pursuit for adrenaline, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for bringing the mood down. In the end you acquiesced, paid the fee and entered the house at your own discretion.

You thought it was ridiculous that company made you sign a contact beforehand, something about promising not to sue or whatever. You knew it was all just an act to heighten the customers’ anxiety instead of an actual legal precaution. Things wouldn’t be so bad inside as it was policy that their employees mustn’t directly touch or use an object to make physical contact with the customers.

However as of right now, you wished you could take those words back. For an underground seasonal business, they’ve managed to pull off an incredible event. The house was situated like a maze in which each room had a different elaborated concept which sometimes included your participation to get to the next stage.

The last room included a very convincing Witch with decent prosthetic makeup on her face and a shrilling laugh concocting a death potion in her black rusty cauldron. She instructed that you bring her the eyes of a goat, toad spit and a rotting tooth in return for your life, which generally meant she’ll show the exit. The challenge was a bit stress inducing as her ‘un-dead servants’ kept trying to grab at you while she wickedly reminded you to hurry up or else she would feed you to them.

In just a few minutes you’ve managed to collect all the ingredients, thankfully the spit and the eyes came in a jar. She begrudgingly took them from your hands and pointed to you a hidden exit before her servants came running at you in full speed, making you stumble into the small door and closing them shut. You could still hear her laughter through the door as you heaved out a sigh. Though your blood was pumping and your heart was beating out of your chest, it was a scare that left a smile on your face. Perhaps you now saw the appeal of haunted houses and rollercoasters.

In the end of a long narrow corridor was a red door. The sign underneath a glowing green exit read another in ‘blood’ to push hard for the ghosts in the mansion wishes to keep you here forever. You let out a small laugh and began to push at the handle, frowning when it wouldn’t budge. Putting all your weight against the door you whined when you made no progress.

Feeling chills down your spine, you grumbled at your Halloween costume, it didn’t help either that the place went crazy with the AC and the fog machine. Fixing your bloodied nurse outfit down and rubbing your arms to soothe the biting cold, you turned around and jumped back slightly in surprise at the sight of someone else with you.

A tall and large-build man stood imposingly from behind you. He wore dark pants and a single sleeveless shirt that was so thin you could make out the shadows of his bulging muscles and pectorals which made you blush and look away for a second. Either he was very serious about his character concept or he was just built like a Greek god. You cleared your throat and reverted your gaze to see that he was holding a large blood stained machete and a mask to cover his face.

“Um could you help me?” while pointing at the door you managed to ask guessingly. “What do you need to me to?” You asked once again, figuring out this was supposed to be the last challenge. However the man didn’t say anything, he just stared at you through the mask and though you couldn’t clear see his line of sight, you felt him raking his eyes up and down your body.

Growing uncomfortable at the stifling silence, you see a glint in his hand which revealed to be a key that he was holding. “Is that the key?” you hopefully questioned as you reached out for the key, knowing you won’t get a response anyway. “May I-“ you gasped when he held it out of your reach suddenly. You wore a tiny smile as you played this rather childish game, reaching out and jumping on your toes as he held it high above his head. You could feel the deep reverberations of his chest as he chuckled at your feeble attempts.

It was at that time you noticed you were far too close to him. Letting out another sharp gasp, the man pulled you close to him by the waist. With your hands to his chest, you could feel his strained muscles from underneath his shirt; his thumb softly rubbing your hips. You were sure this guy just violated one of the rules of this place.

When you were about to push him away, he brought the key close to your face finally allowing you to take it. Squeaking out a small ‘thank you’, you felt his grip reluctantly loosened as you turned back to the door to hastily unlock it. You noticed he was still boring his eyes into you as you closed the door from behind, not making a single movement as he stoically watched you close it. Stepping into the cool night air, you shrugged the strange the interaction off and decided against reporting him to the place. You didn’t really want to deal with the confrontation.

You heard a call of your name from the distance and smiled in relief. Reuniting with your friends around the car you joyously shared tales of your experiences inside. “I don’t know how you did it alone, I was with Mina and I almost went crazy.” Your friend Leigh-Anne exasperated, holding her hand into her still pounding heart.

“You should have gone with us!” Mina quipped. “I nearly socked the clown when he came out of the box- and when he came charging towards us I swear I nearly fainted.”

“Well you were fine enough to run and leave me behind!” jested Leigh-Anne, “you closed the door while the clown was still chasing after me. My heart was about to burst at that moment.”

“For real we were screaming so much you’d think an actual murder was taking place.” She sighed. “But it’s not as crazy as you two,” Mina pointed to you and Jay. “How could you both go alone?” you shrugged at her question and replied that you wanted to make the experience scarier for you as Jay agreed. Now thinking about it, maybe going as a group would make it more fun.

“The last one though,” you trailed. “Don’t you think it was a little weird?”

“The Witch?” Jay asked, raising a brow.

“No the last one, just by the exit.” You clarified to your friends, pointing at the door where you just left. However their expressions didn’t shift. “You know the guy with the machete and a mask? He was the one that held the key.” Your friends continued to look at you like you grew a head. You furrowed your brows in confusion. “You couldn’t possibly miss him he was so tall and huge.”

“There was no one there,” Mina laughed. “The exit was unlocked anyway why would there be a key?”

“I didn’t see anyone either on my turn too, the Witch just pointed the way out then it was over.”

“Holy shit, did you see an actual ghost then?”

“What? No, no he was real.” You awkwardly chuckled along. “Are you guys being serious right now?”

“That’s three to one, you’re being haunted.” Leigh-Anne made spooky noises and played with your hair teasingly as you rolled your eyes light-heartedly. When the lights finally shut from the establishment you all made a move to get inside the car.

“He was there.” You enunciated once more before getting inside.

“I believe you,” playfully sang Jay from the drivers seat.

The moon was at its peak, shining so brightly it made the drive just a bit easier without the streetlights to assist. Your friends were still happily engaging on sharing the stories of the place, occasionally making jokes at you and the mysterious ‘masked ghost’. Waving them off you returned your attention back on the window, it just came to you how deep inside the forest you were as trees were all your eyes could see. Not a moment later the car suddenly stopped as the engine sputtered and died out.

Jay cursed and propped the hood open before letting out another curse. “Um I’m going to go back and get help. Something wrong with the battery.” He quickly explained as he retrieved a flashlight from the glove compartment, getting ready to sprint.

“Wait! I’ll come with you,” you offered, getting out of the car. Jay refused, saying it would be quicker if he went alone. “You calling me slow?!” you called out as he was already far into the distance.

“There’s a reason why I was school’s best track and field and you weren’t!” you heard his faint yet breathy voice retaliate back at you as you scoff out a laugh at his remark.

Half an hour went by and you all started to get worried when he didn’t return. “I’m going after him,” you finally stated, getting ready to get out and run. Mina stated that she’ll go too while Leigh-Anne stayed back, suggesting that someone should stay in the car in case he came back.

Trekking down the road with your hand in hers MIna suddenly asked, “you know when you said you saw someone else in the Haunted House back then,” you hummed back in reply. “You were just joking right?” She gripped your hand tightly as you looked at her worried face. “It was just a joke to rile us up, there wasn’t actually a huge masked man with a machete?”

Knowing full well what she wanted to hear you replied back, “yeah of course.” Nonchalantly shrugging it off like it was nothing. “It was a poor joke now that I think about it.” Guilt tugged at your insides but you knew you couldn’t scare her even more, now that you were all at an extremely unpredictable environment.

You heard her sigh in relief and hugged your sides, “I knew it. You’re such a bad liar.” You weakly laughed at her jest and tried to push the thoughts of the strange man away. When you finally arrived back to the place it looked like a proper abandoned house. All the lights were off, you should’ve expected that as it was way past their opening hours, but all the cars that you assumed were the employees’ were gone too. You and Mina knocked on every door and window to get a response but your own voices echoed back at the empty place.

What’s stranger is that you couldn’t find Jay anywhere too. His flashlight, however, was found on the ground near the exit of the house. You figured there was no way that he could have went inside for all the doors and windows were barricaded shut. After a good twenty minutes of searching around the perimeters of where he could have gone, you and Mina decided to get back to the car with a heavy heart. The walk was fast but silent, neither of you had anything to say to each other.

It was when you saw the car with one of the door opened that you two began running towards it. “Leigh-Anne?” Mina gasped at the sight of the empty car. “What’s going on?” she exclaimed, tears springing up her eyes and as you were about to reply, you finally saw him. The masked man from the Haunted House with his machete freshly coated in blood, stalking leisurely towards the both of you. Mina turned and widened her eyes at the sight, grabbing her hand in yours you both made a run for it into the woods.

Breathing heavily through your nose you could hear his boots thumping against the ground, his speed gaining close to you both. At one point you both let go of each other’s hands to run faster and soon you couldn’t hear or see her anymore.

 Knowing better than to call out her name and give out your location you began to look at your surroundings but it was so, so frustratingly dark. The kind of darkness that made your head ache from trying to see anything. The moonlight couldn’t offer any help for the trees’ thick foliage covered it all. Your eyes couldn’t make out anything and only when you heard Mina’s terrifying screams and a sudden silence through the dense forest did you find the strength to keep running.

Tears stung your eyes while your lungs burned like fire from overexertion. Tripping on a rock, you sobbed out a pathetic weep as you crawled forwards, not doubting that your knee was badly scraped in the process. Seeing as you were grabbing onto rocks, you glanced up to find a raging river in front of you.

Thick pairs of hands grabbed at your sides making you scream in response, kicking away at your assailant and scratching at his arms. The man grunted as he pinned your arms down with one hand swiftly and locked your legs together with his thighs. It was only then could you see your perpetrator clearly, his green eyes wide and dilated as he took in your form. Your breath was caught in your throat at how truly menacing he was up close. There was blood sprayed on his white mask and the smell of him thick with iron and sweat. For a moment you were paralysed with fear as he studied your face, fingers trailing your wet cheek softly along with your lips and nose.

The man came closer and placed his head between your breasts, breathing in the scent of you deeply. He must’ve lost himself in you for a moment as he caressed the curves of your body, relaxing his other grip on your hands. You made a quick decision to grasp onto a nearby stone to hit him straight on his temple. The man grunted in pain from your attack but didn’t fall in the end, your heart was at your throat when you realised you had messed up perhaps your only chance to escape. He glared angrily down at you and when you attempt at another swing, he blocked it by capturing your small wrists in his strong calloused ones.

“Agh!” you cried when he broke it with a simple squeeze, letting the rock fall from your hand. Nevertheless, that didn’t relent you from trying to fight him as you squirmed in his powerful hold. It was as if he knew that you weren’t planning to stop fighting him did he pick up the same rock you used to hit him with to successfully knock you out in one swift strike.

Groaning softly in pain, you feel yourself move through the air by a pair of secure arms. Looking ahead of you with your blurry vision, you saw the man stare ahead at a light that slowly came into view. There was a cabin dimly lit inside, tucked deep into the forestry and not that far from the river. You couldn’t bear to take a guess of what’s to happen to you the next time you woke up and so you let sleep cloud your consciousness instead.

[nafeary]

Napoleon, Theo, Dazai, and Jean reacting to College Student!MC Stressed by Deadlines

Requested by @hqissodelicate:

hey toni boo, sara/delicateikemenmemes here ❤ i've been Going Through It with school 😔 so i was thinking of how my boos napoleon, theo, dazai & jean would react to MC who's a (stressed, exhausted) student who got yeeted to the mansion in the midst of a bunch of deadlines? thank you boo & i hope you're drinking your water 💙😤

✧✎ A/N: I’m sorry it took me this long to finish... but this was super fun to write and it helped me get back into writing after such a long break due to school bs. I’m not too satisfied with Dazai’a and the haphazard scenario/headcanons mush, but I still quite like this I think. Thank you for the request dear! Take care and drink water, everyone!

Warnings: Stress and mild mentions of anxiety, and like one mention of sexual intercourse

Napoleon Bonaparte

“You’re just a chore, after all.”

You whirled around. “Don’t act like your job is going to be that hard,” you could only scoff in annoyance, “I’m going to be inside my room all day, anyway.”

At first, Napoleon was slightly confused by your statement. Wouldn’t you want to explore this new world at all? But according to code, he’d just smirk and go (sleep) do smth

And true to your statement, you did stay inside your room for the most part

It’s not like your quadrillion essays would write themselves

It’s not like your college would just excuse your tardiness

It’s not like—

“Nunuche, you sure you don’t need a break from... whatever you’re doing?”

Napoleon was quite suddenly standing besides you, trying to read the mess that you’ve created.

“And who gave you permission to enter?”

“Me, obviously. I did have the impression that you were in danger, judging from the amount of curses I perceived.”

You could have died from embarrassment. Of course he had to hear your yells of frustration, stemming from the fact that your laptop was out of order, that you had no idea how to use ink properly, and—

“Have you realised that you regularly zone out?”

“I suppose? But if you wouldn’t mind, I really need to finish...” you trailed off, gesturing to the papers in front of you.

However, at his inquisitive gaze, you decided to explain that these were essays that could very well decide how you’d pass university, and, upon further inquiry, elaborated how a modern student’s life looked like

He never interrupted you unnecessarily, only to ask questions when a concept was too modern for him to comprehend

Your cursed assignments certainly made your life in the past harder to enjoy, but it also brought you and the emperor closer than ever

Unable to access the internet—or visit the college library—you had no proper sources for you references (considering that Comte’s library had no modern content, naturally)

You also didn’t want to bother Sebastian, especially since him and Comte had shown so much understanding for your peril that they practically forbid you from helping him out around the mansion

Their reasoning didn’t make you feel less bad though

Hence, you only had one option left that could complete your last essay

Which oh-so conveniently encompasses the Napoleonic Wars, something you truly did not want to burden him with

“Napoleon? Remember those essays that I have to finish for my university courses?”

“Of course.”

You were twiddling your thumbs, contemplating whether your grades are worth revisiting unpleasant memories, aka the taboo of the mansion

Abruptly, he grabbed your cheeks with just enough force to turn you away from looking at your feet, but not enough to inflict pain. “If there is anything I can help you with, I’d never shy away from it.”

Begrudgingly, you inquired him about his reign with as little focus on the gruesome details as possible your professor be damned

And holy shit, he’s amazing at writing? And Not just cringey love letters? Panty Sniffer Napoleon brrrrr

As you grew closer, he’s spoil you with vitamin-rich snacks (going as far as asking Arthur and Sebastian for medical advice)

He enjoys carving cute shapes out of fruits and eggs because he knows that their and his adorable presence will prompt the perfect amount of distraction to allow a small moment of rest

Says that it’s his duty as your guard and boyfriend to take care of your overworking habits

Expect frequent complaints from your beau, ranging from “how could they assign so many essays? Aren’t students just humans, too?” to “‘Reasons Why Edison Is Better Than Newton’? Do they even know what they’re talking about? Tch!”

Theodorus Van Gogh

You gleefully indulged in his charades for the first few days. They were a welcome distraction from your college work, after all

But the procrastination was accompanied by guilt, your anxiety building up every second you spent helping Sebastian with the chores, and gallivanting around town with Theo

A week passed before your sense of responsibility finally kicked in. So when Sebas came to wake you up just as the sun peaked past the horizon, you were already scribbling away on some sheets you’d found in your drawers

“Ah, good morning, Sebastian-san.”

“Good morning... what are you writing, if I may ask?”

“Just some essays for my college courses...” you said, glancing dejectedly at your notes.

Now that you didn’t have access to the internet, and your laptop’s battery was all used up, it made your work all the more tedious, but you had to set your teeth and do this.

“Give me 10 minutes, and I’ll join you in the kitchen.”

He had wanted to argue, but you didn’t let him. And when he saw you leaving the house with Theo later in the afternoon, he could only shake his head.

You felt like you owed the art dealer, especially since you blurted out his secret the literal next moment, so you committed to helping him while also keeping up with your work

Although, him calling you dog wasn’t nice either—even though, according to Sebas’ explanation, Hondje wasn’t exactly the equivalent to mutt

That cycle continued for days. Helping out around the mansion, getting pulled around by Theo, and writing your essays deep into the night

Not to mention all the worries that pressured your shoulders further and further into the ground

You were missing so many group project deadlines, disappointing people that relied on you... it was safe to say that sleep did not come easy, if barely

Just before you arrived at your room after a late night art exhibit did your body decide to fail you, tripping over nothing multiple times.

It prompted Theo to call you out before you could even think of rushing past the door, steadying you with a hand more gentle than you had ever experienced it to be.

“Sebas informed me that you’ve been working yourself to death.”

You silently cursed the butler. “I haven’t—“

“Give me your laptop.”

Perplexion ran across your mien, wondering how he could possibly have remembered such a modern detail from your countless rambles. “It’s batt— it doesn’t work right now, so it’s not like it would stop me from working.”

Arguing with the devil was a mistake.

He snaked his arms around you, holding the door handle in place with one hand while the other still kept you upright. “I don’t care whether you work or not, I’m not your mother. And regardless of its abilities, hand it over, knabbletje.”

What other choice did you have but to comply?

He ordered—yes, ordered—you to go to bed right that instant

If you hesistanly ask him to do the same (we all know what a hard worker he is), he’ll just press a guileless kiss to your forehand, telling you not to worry about him

The next morning, you were already worrying for your baby’s safety within the sadist’s hands when the devil invited himself into your room

“Ever heard of knocking?”

“Morning to you, too, Hondje.” He sent you an overly handsome smirk, handing you the laptop tucked underneath his arms. “You won’t be able to use that spider web Sebas told me about, but writing should work.”

You stared at Theo in disbelief, all the while internally laughing at him misinterpreting the World Wide Web. Deciding to trust in him, you clicked the power button. And sure enough, it sprang to life. “What... how in the world did you...”

Leo overheard you and Sebas talking about solar energy sometime… hush, just run with it

He fell into the seat next to you, propping his chin upon his fist. “I didn’t do anything. Just asked Sebas whether there was a way for you to use this. Leonardo took notice and tinkered around with it. Don’t ask—ah!”

You threw your arms around his shoulders, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you for taking care of me, Theo.”

Would you have lifted your face, then you’d have caught a glimpse of the vermillion shading his cheeks. “I didn’t do it to help you. I simply can’t risk having you become a liability at work. That’s all.”

Anyway, tsundere tendencies aside, you know what another big factor of dating Theo is?

King if you’re not allergic, understandably, if so, he’ll change his clothes before even thinking of visiting you

On days that you decide to be especially stubborn, he pulls you outside, all the whilst whistling for the jolly golden retriever

And as soon as he comes running, your mind goes brrrrr cute dog

Although, he’ll try his best not to distract you from work. He knows from personal experience that it’s a much bigger annoyance than help

Thus, he’ll certainly use his connections and amiable rip Shakes relationships with the residents to help you out with the research process

Also, with his superior memory, he knows what generally makes you happy and relaxed, so he’ll be his usual observant self to decipher just what would help you perfectly relax/finish your work

Hardworking boi, please love him

Dazai Osamu

Dazai is the type of person that doesn’t mind upsetting people and risking someone’s disdain if it supports that person in the long run

And he’s able to read people like books, so it shouldn’t be surprising that he knows you’re overwhelmed before you even realize it

You’ve been going to sleep too late and waking up too early? He’ll gently force you (if you’re 100% against it, he won’t do it ofc) to sleep beside him, making sure that you won’t rise with the sun for once

You’ve been exposing your wrist to heavy sprain? He’ll teach you some handy-dandy 5 Min Crafts techniques that are guaranteed to send your hands on a vacation

You've been suffering from writer’s block? Time to go on a lovely stroll through nature with your boo

Your shoulders and neck are hurting beyond sanity? He swears by hot springs, so the thermae is his go-to for when you need to relive some muscle kinks

He never fails to procure the perfect amount of bubbles and temperature. And depending on how comfortable you are with it, he’ll offer to wash your hair.

And since dude got Disney princess hands, you most probably fall asleep, but our man is there to hold you above the water

His bare thighs are an added bonus, sending your mind into spirals faaaar away from college work

After you’re done bathing, he’ll ask you whether you’d like him to braid your hair (if it’s long enough), and his Disney princess hands will not disappoint

In the beginning, it was incredibly vexing to have a security cam in the form of a handsome man always on the qui vive

But at some point, you started embracing Dazai’s overwhelmingly passive—you knew exactly what he was doing whenever he’d do something random—protectiveness

Especially since it didn’t only help you complete your work; on the contrary, you were always excited to spend time with the Japanese writer

But that didn’t curb your confusion at the whole debacle. Why was he this focused on your well-being?

So, you decided to confront him

“Dazai?” Once again, you were relaxing in his arms, his fingers threading through your hair lulling you into a dreamlike state.

He ticked his head to the side, pulling your entwined hands closer towards his heart. The sun streamed into the run at just the right angle, yet the golden light was not as bright as his vivid citrine orbs.

You sighed, unable to look at his stupid handsome face for too long. ”Why is it that you insist on taking care of me?”

“Someone has to, Toshiko-san.”

You’d have blurted out your feelings if it wasn’t for the sudden embrace you found yourself in. As guileless as it appeared, you knew he was trying to stop you from acting on your thoughts.

Deciding that you didn’t want to pressure him further (after all, you knew that he had a hellish first life), you accepted the unclarity of his feelings—even though his actions spoke loud enough for you to understand.

It was that day that you decided to repay him for all he’s done for you

And you wouldn’t let him yeet himself through a window in an attempt to evade the love sent his way this time

Even if it took decades, you wanted him to feel just as safe and loved as you did in his company

You were glad to have such a caring man by your side who helps you with managing you self care

You could only hope that he’d allow himself to be treated the same way

Please just take our love, boo. We love you

Jean d’Arc

Well fuck, how could he possibly help someone who’s stressed when he himself is a 24/7 McDonalds that only sells Chicken McStress?

Anywho, I feel like he’d be the complete opposite of Dazai when confronted with a stressed MC

He’d care just as much, of course, but he thinks that it would be better to give her space, since he himself understands the desire for solitude well

So yeah, I can see him not going out of his way to check up on you if you weren’t super duper close friends/lovers IF it wasn’t for his friend Napoleon

After all, it was him who gave your boyfriend a lil talk, convincing him that, perhaps even if someone needs space, they probably still need someone to look after them

Living with Jean is basically Ted Talks everyday

Anyway, he embarked on his journey to hopefully help you and and to relieve some stress that was wearing you down (according to the statement of several residents)

And, finding himself halting abruptly, our pessimistic little bean realised that he’s got zero idea what did help you attain bliss

So he opted for the next best option—things he knew that made his friends relax

Plan A

Hearing a few oddly reluctant raps on your door, you went to open it. As soon as you did, the beautiful man who’d captured your heart entered your vision, your eyes finding his amethyst ones immediately.

You two stayed like that for a moments, only breaking eye contact when he sighed and simultaneously thrusted a mug into your hand, already in the process striding back to his own room.

“Uhm… Jean? I’m a bit busy right now, but would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t you find it inappropriate for a man to enter your room, mademoiselle?”

“Jean,” you giggled at his archaic mindset, gently rubbing your thumb between his brows to even out the crease. “We’ve had sex before, you know. Of course you ca—“

Wrong thing to say. He stormed past you, vermillion cheeks practically leaving a trail.

Chuckling to yourself, you turned to the mug’s contents. “Hm? Hot chocolate?”

Plan B:

“If this doesn’t harbor your discomfort…” Your boyfriend reluctantly stood in your room’s corner, standing straighter than a rod.

Frankly, your essays have kept you entirely too busy, and you longed for the warmth of the French man’s feather-like embrace.

“On the contrary, I enjoy your presence.” And you went right back to scribbling away.

Jean frowned. “Haven’t you been writing stories since this morning?”

“They’re not stories… and, yeah? I believe so.”

Stepping towards your seated form, he extended his hand; you grabbed it without thinking twice. “Is everything alrig—whoa!”

With the ease of a seasoned soldier, he picked you up before haphazardly tugging you into bed with bewilderment maring your features. “You should sleep.”

“—what?”

He stared at you blankly, as if expecting you to fall into the land of dreams right that instant.

“Did something prompt,” you slipped your arms out from underneath the duvets, gesturing wildly, “this?”

It was hard to be upset with Jean, his clueless but genuine persona the reason why you fell for him, yet you couldn’t disguise the irritation coursing through your veins—you had work to return to, after all.

“I think you need to rest, mademoiselle.”

Your blinking made him avert his eyes, explaining quietly, “I am uncertain what supports your release of tension, so I thought that perhaps sleeping could help since it certainly does show affect with Napoleon.”

“Ah, and you made me hot chocolate since that’s what calms Mozart.”

After internally simping for his soft and wholesome dumbass energy, you pulled him to bed beside you, claiming that it would help you relax (but only after telling him that it was okay for him to ask for your preferences)

And falling asleep to the heartbeat underneath his broad chest is definitely a 5-star-resort vacation

He’d eventually ask his relationship advisor Napoleon whether it is okay to have you help them out with his reading/writing lessons (you

You, alongside Napoleon, steadily agreed, despite knowing that it was a ploy to keep you away from overworking

Please also love this boy, thanks

Tag List of the most wonderful sweethearts (just message me if you’d like to be added <3): @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[dinner-djarin]

dar'manda (Mando x f!reader)

Chapter 1: The Only Way Out is Through

Summary: Things have been quiet since The Mandalorian's disappearing act on Nevarro. However, things change quickly at his sudden return, and the changes are sure to impact your own life. That is, if you don't screw it up for yourself.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, yearning/awkward flirting/reader doesn’t know how to act around Mando, Cara Dune lol (I feel like she needs a warning)

Word Count: 3.8k

Prologue - Next

In the weeks that the Mandalorian had been gone, things on Nevarro had taken a turn for the worse. Ever since making his grand escape, remaining Imperial officers seemed to get word of a Mandalorian bounty hunter gone rogue. He took some sort of “package” right out of their hands, and they really didn’t like that. So, they sent out every bounty hunter idiotic enough to go after a Mandalorian. And to double their efforts, they effectively made Nevarro their new base.

Well, that probably wasn’t exactly accurate, but either way it seemed like every stormtrooper left was sent to keep watch in case their prize ever returned.

You could not imagine that anyone would be stupid enough to come back to the place where they so flagrantly disregarded every rule of the Guild, and yet – there he was. Walking into town at the side of his...former boss. As he approached however, you noticed he probably wasn't there by choice. His hands were bound in front of him, and a muscley looking woman, with a very large gun, was not too far behind them. Well then, you think to yourself, I guess no one crosses the Guild, not even Mando.

Just as they enter town you being to consider the precarity of your own situation. With the town being occupied by stormtroopers, times are tough. Curfews have been put in place and wandering through town is highly discouraged. The marketplace has turned into a ghost town as people have become less and less inclined to spend time outside of their homes. They might come by for the basics, but business is definitely not what it used to be. So, you often find yourself with “free time” – moments you should realistically be working – where you instead spy on the invaders who have ruined your already unpleasant life. Basically, the exact thing you were doing in that very moment.

It's a matter of fate that he showed up just as you made your way to the town entrance. Even more so when you overhear a conversation between the Guild leader and the Mandalorians captor.

“Things got really heated once Mando crashed the safehouse” you hear the Guild leader say.

“Slip him his blaster” whispers the woman. These words bring you utter confusion. Did she mean slip Mando his blaster?

“Not yet,” he says under his breath.

And suddenly you are more confused than before. Why would she say something like that? How did any of this make sense? You’re thankful you were not seen as they pass by you, but you think you perceive a subtle change in the reflection from the shiny metal helmet that your eyes have been locked on to. His gaze fell to the metal orb that was trailing the trio through the city centre. When he looked back up however, he did not return his gaze to the direction he had been looking previously. Now you think, and you know it’s completely self-centred of you to do so, but you feel like he is staring straight at you. You don't think he would be able to see into the shadows that were providing your cover, but something about the angle of his visor as he walks by sends a shiver down your spine.

The three of them and the metal orb enter the cantina and you adjust your position in attempt for a better view. Only a few minutes later does a blaster shot eviscerate the long transparisteel window on the front wall of the building, allowing you a glimpse of the chaos inside. A plethora of various blaster bolts ricochet through the building, evidence that the situation was drastically more complicated than you initially observed. However, the next events prove that things could still get worse for the group inside.

From the safety of your hiding spot, you see the scene unfold. The entire courtyard of the village is filled with stormtroopers in seconds, and then you hear it. The unmistakable screech that has haunted you since you were young. A sound that would forever be branded into your head, as it signaled the end of your childhood. The last time you heard that sound was the last time you saw your father and brother.

The Tie Fighter lands right in front of the cantina, completely blocking your view of any further events. You take that as your sign to get the hell out of there, knowing the level of destruction that is sure to follow. Even with the high amount of adrenaline pumping through your veins, you manage to keep a level head and find your way back to the marketplace, where most other citizens are gathered.

You quickly alert everyone to the impending danger nearby, and although some are slow to react, they begin to gather their belongings and search for safety.

Luckily, you recall a nearby alley that would lead to the part of town furthest away from the calamity, and you tell them all to make their way there immediately. Once you were sure that no one was left behind you head towards the alley only for an explosion to go off somewhere near the cantina. And although the source of the blast is far enough away not to injure you, the shockwave ripples through a one of the buildings, whose integrity was already questionable, causing it to crumble and block your previously secure exit route. With your mind in panic mode, you glance over to a spot which had caught your eye a hundred times before, a spot you kept noticing the Mandalorian disappear to.

You quickly run for cover hoping no other buildings decide to fall apart in the meantime, and you find the passageway was actually concealing a staircase which led to the sewers. Unsure of where to go next, your adrenaline high mind keeps you moving fast, taking random turns, having no understanding of where the tunnels lead to and where the safest exit may be. It wasn't until you rapidly took a corner and ran straight into an armoured chest plate that your mind stopped running wild.

A few second too late you realize it wasn’t the armour you would have hoped to see. The Mandalorians captor stands in front of you, with a package wrapped in her arms. Beside her is the Guild leader. You stand there dumbstruck and panting, unsure of what move to make.

The Guild leader approaches you, but you recoil, stepping back.

“What did you do to him?” is all you can think to growl at them.

“He’s just sleeping.” She attempts to assure you, “Wait how do you know the kid?” the woman asks, evidently confused by your accusation.

“What kid? No, the Mandalorian. You captured him. I saw you two walk in to town with him handcuffed”

“Young lady, I think you are confused. Please allow me to explain our situation.” the leader states, taking another step closer to you. This time you stand your ground, making clear you want answers.

He explains his name is Greef Karga, and the woman is Cara Dune, an ex-rebel shock trooper. And despite walking into town with Mando handcuffed by their sides, they were actually all in on the plan together. However, it seems that once they got inside things went south, a habit Mando seemed to be making for himself. It turns out that this elaborate scheme was set in place in an attempt to save a tiny green baby from the Empire, which now rests in the woman’s – Cara’s – arms.

You have no idea what to think. There's no way any of this can be true. Although, you then recall the conversation you overheard as they entered the town, and everything else seems to line up with your own experiences of the past hour.

You also realize that the Child must be the reason Mando went rogue in the first place. And after sneaking a peak at his resting wrinkly face, you completely understand why. After only one look, you’d probably jump in front of speeder for that little guy.

But before you can make up your mind on whether to believe Karga or not, Mando rounds the corner being supported by a very tall, very thin droid that you recognize to be an IG unit. As they approach, Cara hands off the baby to the droid and attempts to support Mando, and for some maker-forsaken reason you decide to help too. As you slide your arm under Mando’s shoulder and rest your hand on his back you feel him tense – you know you’ve made a mistake. But it’s too late to turn back now, so you carry some of his weight and continue on down the ominous path. The only way out, is through.

Your mind is running at 100 parsecs per hour. This is the closest, physically, you’ve been to anyone in years, and if that weren't enough you seem to be in the middle of both your wildest dream and worst nightmare. You can’t remember the last time you were tucked under someone's arm, and pressed up against them so tightly, if you ever were. And in your panicked state you start to realize you’ve basically been holding your breath this whole time, making your heart beat erratically and your head throb. But just as you think you might pass out from your stupidity, the Mandalorians voice shakes you back to reality.

“Stop.” His word sends you into a new panic. Were you thinking out loud? Could he read your heartbeat through his helmet? Did he know what a complete mess you were at his touch? “I can stand,” he says, finishing his thought.

Oh thank the gods.

He lets go of you and switches something in his helmet to look for tracks, and you allow yourself to finally take a deep breath.

“We’re close,” he states. After a moment of stabilizing your heartbeat and focussing on your breath900, you quicken your pace, subtly placing yourself just behind Mando’s left shoulder as he leads the group through the tunnel. You’re close enough to catch when he mumbles, “I know you.”

“And I know you,” you respond playfully, disregarding the severity of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You’re not quite sure how Mando’s mere presence can affect you so brutally, to the point of forgetting how to act like a normal human being.

“From the market.” He doesn’t ask.

“That’s me, good to see you in one piece. I was worried when I heard about the stunt you pulled. Crossing the guild...not sure I've ever heard of anyone getting away with that.” Oh man why are you talking so much. You just need to shut up now. Literally no one wants to hear-

“Worried?” a hint of genuine curiosity hidden in his question. Well of course he found the one word in your entire sentence that incriminates you. There’s no way he doesn’t know about your crush now.

“Umm well of course, I think everyone was. It’s all anyone could talk about for weeks. Nothing that exciting has happened around here in a while,” you quickly blurt out. He turns his head for a moment and examines you.

He is silent, evidently noticing the way you awkwardly avoided his question. You stare at him trying with every muscle in your face to remain composed. You know he sees right through you – must be that bullshit reader – but you think if you maintain eye contact long enough, he’ll just move on from your stupidity. And he does.

“How did you get here?” He returns to his task of following footprints. The question and abrupt change in topic jars you, although if you had to guess, you think he must have picked up on your complete awkwardness, possibly confusing it for suspicious behaviour. You hope he doesn’t think you untrustworthy because if it.

“There were explosions, and I tried to help everyone out, but the path became blocked and the only way out was some curtain hiding a staircase.” Your explanation, you realize, now sounds completely ridiculous, especially in the flustered manner you are depicting it in. Even so, you continue, “I went to hide but it turns out it led straight down here. So, I tried to find an exit, but I bumped into them instead,” you finish, glancing behind you towards Cara and Karga.

“If you came in from the market you should have passed the covert,” Mando stated almost accusingly, increasing your worry over whether he thought trusted your story.

“I’m not sure I didn’t really see any-” but his question is immediately answered by the pile of discarded Mandalorian armour in front of you.

The Mandalorian stops, and you can see just how suddenly his body language changed. Even injured, he looked deadly as he led you through the tunnels, but at the sight of the remnants of his clan, he is weak. You can feel the sadness, remorse, and pain emanating from him all at once. And as you stand beside him you barely realize you’ve gently reached for his hand, gripping it tight and squeezing it to convey your condolence for his immense loss.

But after a moment, he moved forward and away from your grasp to kneel at the sight of his fallen brethren. Cara suggests the group leave, but he won’t. He will not leave the armour in its discarded state.

Suddenly, the mood shifts, and you see the Mandalorian transform before your eyes. He storms towards Karga, accusing that he and the Guild members must be responsible. Karga denies, but you think Mando might be on the verge of strangling him when suddenly another modulated voice fills the tunnel.

A golden warrior stands before you. Her presence shocks you. It reveals some element rooted deep, a feeling you can only describe as warm… or familiar? She explains, as she gathers the scattered armour, how revealing the covert brought the presence of Imperials. When Mando offers her to join him, she rejects, maintaining that her place is to gather the remains of her people.

You all follow her into a small room with a forge in the centre of it. “Show me the one who’s safety deemed such destruction,” she demands.

“This is the one,” Mando responds. Gesturing to the baby that was wrapped tight to the IG unit’s chest.

“This is the one that you hunted, then saved?” she asks.

“Yes. The one that saved me as well.” And with that statement you find both an answer, and more questions. That baby saved him? How the-

“From the mudhorn?” she asks.

“Yes.” he responds, making you even more confused than ever. The baby saved him from a mudhorn?

“It looks helpless” she states.

“It’s injured, but it is not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.” As if this conversation could get any weirder. Move objects...with its MIND.

The Armourer begins to detail battles between Mandalore the Great and some species of wizards; the species this child belongs to. She also tells Mando that he is now responsible for the baby – his foundling. And finally, she tasks him with finding these sorcerers and returning the baby to them. When Mando questions the outrageous turn of events the woman has only four words in response:

“This is the Way.” Suddenly that warm comfort you felt before resurges, but only for a moment, as Cara reminds the group of the urgency of their situation. You need to find a way out before Imperials catch your tracks. The Armourer then suggests the group find a river of lava that will lead all of you out of the tunnels. Right…

River of lava, or Imperial Troopers. What the heck did you get yourself into? Either way it seems you don’t have much of a choice. After receiving a mudhorn signet on his pauldron, the Armourer pronounces that he and the child are bound as father and son; a clan of two. Cute little family they’ll make. When the droid gets ready to defend the group from incoming Imps, it hands Cara the child who looks very uncomfortable with it, so she passes him to you.

Stunned and confused you look to the Mandalorian who shows no sign of discomfort with you holding his now adopted son, not that you’d probably be able to tell. Either way, it seems you’ve acquired a new responsibility.

Blaster fire rings just outside the room as the woman hands Mando some flying contraption, and your group decides you might need to get a move on.

You approach the lava river, only to notice the boat has melted to the docking point. Karga and Mando struggle to free it, but Cara just gives you a smug look. “You boys mind getting out of the way?” she warns only to blast the points where the boat was attached, successfully freeing it from its molten chains.

The boat quickly begins to drift from the dock, but just as you start to lift your foot over the edge to make your way inside, you feel a strong hand against your lower back, guiding you the rest of the way. Once you steady yourself on the boat you glance up at the visor which is pinned straight ahead, unwavering and unwilling to meet your gaze. His seemingly disinterested reaction makes you anxious to know the true intention of his touch. He must just realize your safety is attached to the bundle you are currently cradling against your chest. Obviously, he is only looking out for the child, you just happen to be the person responsible for his transportation. If Cara were the one holding his son, he’d probably be helping her instead. Right? Simple as that.

Even so, you can't help but notice the way his hand flexes after it returns to his side.

For just a moment your mind slips, and you let yourself think that there might be something there. That the short conversations and fleeting looks shared all those weeks ago might have held more weight than you believed. That when you were admiring his head-to-toe armor upgrade, he may have been examining you back. That he might have actually liked the fact that you worried about him in his absence. You allow yourself to think that underneath that metal, stands a man who might be gentle, and kind. A man who helps you into a boat when he himself is injured. One who is willing to leave behind everything he knows in order to ensure the security of a child.

You snap back to reality, however, when Karga notices the light at the end of the tunnel. But just when you think that your journey is almost over, Mando informs you otherwise. A battalion of stormtroopers line the edges of your only exit route. No one in your group can come up with any satisfactory solution, until the IG unit comes forward.

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child. This is unacceptable. I will eliminate them, and you will escape.”

Mando is quick to point out that the droid would never make it past the troopers, but the droid insists. Apparently, his manufacturer's protocol dictates that he cannot be captured and must self-destruct. He asks that Mando look over the Child once he is gone, and you swear you can hear a hint of sadness through his filtered voice. Your hypothesis is confirmed by the IG unit, and your heart warms slightly for the metal man. The droid reaches over to say goodbye to the child for the last time, patting him gently on the head, then steps into the lava river and heads down towards the mouth of the cave. You all stare silently as you watch him approach the troopers when suddenly-

Fire consumes your vision, and it overwhelms your senses. Not having actually seen an explosion in your life you seem to be the only one on the boat who is at all fazed by the sudden wall of heat and deafening boom created by IG-11’s sacrifice. In the process you cover the child with your body and wince back into the hard wall behind you. Cradling the child and shielding yourself, you almost don’t notice when the wall grabs your hip and steadies you in front of it.

Suddenly, you’re flushed with embarrassment, realizing all at once the wall was the Mandalorian and both of his hands were still gripped onto you, holding you tight against his chest plate.

But your shock only lasts a moment before the unsettling screech of a Tie Fighter pierced your ears for the second time that day. And before you could process, the Mandalorian was using his body as a shield, protecting you and the child from the blasts, and simultaneously shooting at the new threat barreling towards your group.

Will this day ever end, is the only thought in your head before Mando is flying through the air using the jetpack given to him by the Armourer only minutes ago. However, you distinctly remember her saying he would need time to get used to it before it would ‘listen to his commands’. Nevertheless, he jerks through the sky in a desperate attempt to bring the Tie down.

You watch as one of the wings are ripped off by an explosion and the tie crashes to the ground. The Mandalorian lets go just in time and falls quickly towards the ground, igniting his jetpack at the last second to make a rough landing right in front of you.

The child squirms in your arms at the first sign of peace so you set him down gently. He awkwardly runs over to Mando and hugs his leg, creating possibly the cutest sight you had ever seen. Again, your heart can’t help but melt for the new little family, and you wonder how these two are going to get by. A child with magical powers, and a father who’s built to kill. Not a pairing you would bet on.

Cara and Karga then try to convince Mando to stay on Nevarro and help the both of them sort out the aftermath of today's events. But the Mandalorian insists on sticking to his mission. The child is now his first priority and finding a group of near-extinct ancient sorcerers does not sound like easy work.

“We have a long road ahead of us, but the journey is necessary. I must return him to his kind, no matter how long it takes.” You hear him reason with the pair, refusing their kind offers to remain on the planet with them.

If you know one thing about the Mandalorian it's that everything he does is completely intentional. No one could force Mando into something he doesn’t want to do. If he is sure of this path, he will follow it through till the end.

And from your short interactions, you know he spends time forming his thoughts in order to get his point across. Each sentence is carefully crafted so that they are clear and concise. You know he means every word.

Maybe that's why the next words out of his mouth come as a complete shock to you.

“Would you like to join us?” he asks directly to you.

What the kriffing heck did he just say? You're so taken aback that you embarrassingly bark out your response, your brain evidently getting no time to process the question, so instead if vomits out the first word it can think of: “No”.

You follow it with polite ‘thank you’s’, hoping to erase the awkward tension in the air, and the Mandalorian jetpacks off with the child leaving you to dwell on your utter stupidity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2

Notes: Honestly, I hate this chapter too wow. I really spent so long trying to edit this into something I could bare to publish, but I still really hate it. I did not want to write a chapter like this, but I also needed a way to put the reader into the story and the only way I could think to do that was by using an existing episode. So here we are. But I SWEAR, after this it gets good. Like not only does the story get good, but so does my own writing (relatively) so if you just bare through this, I think you’ll enjoy the rest.

Taglist: @peppywitch @tobealostwanderer @thecraftyartist

If you wanna be included in the tag list let me know! The next parts are gonna get great. I hope

[beepen]

all I did was buy Hades and play it. now it’s been 3 weeks and 

than and zag are idiots, here’s a thing. i love them. fuck. 

hypnos is a little shit

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There was something about Death that Zagreus believed should be savored, or rather, handled with great care. He didn’t know much about the ceremonies mortals held for their dead, only that Than had mentioned rituals and burials in the few conversations they’ve had about it. Thanatos wasn’t willing to give more than that, claiming he never had time to stay so long and observe the culture in which mortals laid their dead to rest. He simply followed the calling deep within his chest that led him to whatever unfortunate soul he was to take next, and afterwards, leave.

Zagreus hoped there was more to it, though. Not Than’s work—he hoped it was as simple as he described—but the mortals and how they deal with death. Did they honor it? Did they honor him? Did they understand that death was part of life, that they went hand-in-hand; that death...that Death was beautiful….

And gentle, Zagreus quietly mused, peaking around the corner to the West Hall with a bottle of Nectar carefully cradled in his arms. He didn’t even want to jostle it; it had to be in perfect condition. Nothing short of perfect should ever be gifted to Death Incarnate. It wasn’t a rule or anything, of course, just Zagreus’ own personal belief. It should be, though. It should be a rule. If he wasn’t on such bad terms with his father, he would ask that he make it so.

“You just missed him, Zagreus.”

The familiar voice lured Zagreus’ gaze from the empty spot at the end of the hall to Achilles standing at his usual place, just outside the King’s chambers. He had a knowing look about him, subdued yet piercing in his read of Zagreus’ dejected body language.

“He left moments before you arrived,” he informed, and Zagreus huffed in frustration, straightening from his little sneak position and walking towards the old warrior, still mindful of the bottle curled in his arms.

“You mean to say he left after having seen me emerge from the river.” Zagreus meant for it to be witty, but he couldn’t help the bitterness in his tone. Nonetheless, Achilles gave him a warm smile, albeit more out of pity than anything.

“Perhaps. Although he does have a rather demanding job.”

“Of course.”

Zagreus would have thought himself a narcissist for assuming Thanatos would leave in spite of him rather than because he had a duty to fulfill, but the accusation didn’t transpire simply because Chaos was feeling a little bored. Than had been avoiding him, that much was clear. If it weren’t for his obvious absences over longer-than-usual amounts of time, then it was the way in which he disappeared before Zagreus could get a single word in. Zagreus had known Than long enough to realize when the god was hiding away. And right now, Than was hiding from him.

Sighing, Zagreus loosened his hold on the bottle of Nectar and held it up to Achilles, keeping his gaze on the extravagant marbled floor. If Than was hiding from him, then it was probable he wouldn’t take too kindly to an unwanted gift. And Zagreus didn’t want to pressure him….

“For you,” Zagreus forced out, lifting the bottle higher for Achilles to take. “A token of my appreciation for everything you’ve done for me...you’re more of a father than my own—”

“Zagreus.” The interruption prompted Zag to shift his gaze from the floor to meet Achilles’ fixed stare. “I am honored, truly, but I’ve yet to find the time to drink the one you have already given me. Surely this one belongs to someone else?” He raised an eyebrow, as if trying to hint at something, trying to help Zagreus understand without outright saying it. The twinkle in his eyes was all-knowing.

“Yes, it was for....” Zagreus stared briefly at the little balcony, where Thanatos would be, if only he were there. He wanted more than anything to somehow find him and ravish him with gifts. Though, that would be too overwhelming for the gentle, moody god—and far too forward. Not to mention impossible, given how Zagreus is practically chained to the Underworld at the moment. There weren’t many places he could travel to in search for him.

Sighing, he shook his head and forced the strange desires to untangle their greedy threads from his heart. He nearly shoved the bottle of Nectar at Achilles.

“First come, first serve,” he joked, waiting for the old warrior to accept the bottle. Achilles didn’t bother even looking at the gift, instead reaching past it to comfort Zag’s shoulder.

“Thanatos will come back—this is his home, afterall.”

“Well, yes. But he won’t come back to me.” Zagreus immediately regretted the words the moment they slipped out, feeling unbearably selfish and exposed to his true feelings that he had, up until now, successfully avoided.. “I mean—that’s not how I meant to say it. It’s just...he’ll be back for you, for Nyx, Meg, and Hypnos, even. But not me. I’m not part of the reason he returns home.”

Not that Zagreus had any right to be. He was trying to leave the place Thanatos called home, for gods’ sake. And without telling him. Than had made it known he was upset about it based on their latest, and perhaps last, confrontation, but Zagreus knew Thanatos hardly revealed even a glimpse of what he truly felt. He couldn’t imagine how hurt Than really was….

Achilles’ grip on his shoulder tightened just barely, laughter twinkling in his eyes. “Prince, you are far too dramatic.” He didn’t elaborate further, almost as if the words were for his own amusement rather than to appease Zagreus’ worries. He backed off, hand slipping from Zagreus’ shoulder, and finally acknowledged the bottle still held up for his taking. “Keep that, and wait for him.”

Zagreus didn’t know what was so funny; the possible end of his friendship with Than was no laughing matter. And he didn’t want to give this bottle to Than anymore, anyway. It was all shaken up.

“Really sir,” Zagreus stepped forward, ready to shove the bottle in Achilles’ embrace if he had to. “It’s yours. I bestow it upon you.”

“I’m fine, dear Prince. In fact, I’m a little offended you would offer me a gift meant for someone else.”

Zagreus balked, interpreting Achilles’ slanted smile to be one of mockery. “Well I’m offended you won’t accept my gift! A gift I quite literally died for, might I add. Besides, I’m only going to offer you more in the future; there’s an abundance of them in Tartarus. Far too many for me to keep but enough for everyone to have multiple. I’m quite certain I will have another by the time Than shows his pretty face. Now, please sir, I demand you take this!”

He couldn’t possibly outstretch his hand farther, but he certainly tried his damned hardest, only for Achilles to cross his arms and shake his head. That slight smirk still adorned his face.

“Forgive me, Prince, but I do not accept your gift.”

Zagreus nearly growled. “Take it! I’ll stand here forever if you don’t!”

“You know as well as I that every soul, shade, and god alike are aware of your inability to stand in one place.”

“I—! I can stand in one place! I’ll do it now!”

It was only a few moments later that Zagreus was seen stomping away from the Great Achilles in humiliated anger, for the old warrior was correct: the Prince could not, for the life of him, stand still.

“Oh, shut up,” Zagreus grumbled, red hot in the face and fire at his heels (literally).

*****

Achilles was not his father, so he would not directly defy him as he did Hades, but he’d be damned if he walked away with a hurt pride and did nothing to make himself feel like a winner. So it was no surprise when he gave the wretched bottle of Nectar to Hypnos, practically announcing it to the entire House as if he were awarding a hero. Hypnos was glad to accept it, feeding off of the Prince’s drama and loudly proclaiming his thanks with a big smile until they were shouting back and forth, like kids playing pretend. That is, until Nyx urged them to be quiet, warning them that Lord Hades would be back any moment and that he did not tolerate the smuggling of Nectar.

And if Nyx heard them, then Achilles most certainly did too, and Zagreus walked back to his chambers with an inflated ego and his pride back in order, ready to tear through his father’s domain once again with the viscous intent to cause problems.

And caused problems, he did. The more chambers Zagreus tore apart, the more he began to think Achilles had purposely infuriated him. He was the one who trained Zag, afterall. He knew how to stir up trouble even better than the Prince himself, and it was a surprise to no one that the old warrior irritated Zagreus enough that the wretches of the Underworld cowered before his wrath.

Zagreus didn’t even know what he was so mad at. He was just riled up, stuck in his thoughts, so distracted he paid no mind to the aches and strains of his body from unconsciously pushing himself. He thought of nothing; just let the time pass and the monsters be slain, allowing his irritation to consume him entirely. It was almost impossible to recall the conversation he had with Meg, if any. The Fury may have said something upon his arrival, but Zagreus was in no position to respond, so they just fought.

Zagreus only acknowledged her defeat after the Lernagon Hydra crumbled to dust. By then he had ripped Asphodel a new one, with little to no recollection of how or when he got to this point.

“Must be a new record,” he mumbled to himself, the first he’d spoken since he jumped out of his window. He never made it this far….

His awareness came back to him, dragging himself down from the clouds he had been lost in. He took a second to catch his breath as he was made aware of how much his body hurt. Drinking from the fountain dulled it somewhat, but, gods, he must have been one hit away from collapsing. He wanted to collapse now, let the Styx consume him and heal him. And perhaps, now that his little fit was over and he had ransacked enough chambers to appease his emotions, apologize to Achilles for how rude he was back at the House. But up next was Elysium, and he had never been there; never was allowed to step foot in there. He wasn’t going to quit without going as far as his body physically allowed.

He didn’t expect Elysium to nearly blind him with its lush plants and sparkling sky, just as he hadn’t expected Asphodel to be so hot. It was far cooler up here, thank the gods, but he had to stay in the first chamber a few moments longer so his eyes could adjust to the brightness. He broke some precious pots too, of course. All of them, actually, and with a conniving grin on his face as he recalled his father yelling at him to stop being an ignoble brat.

Never.

Laughing almost maniacally, Zagreus dashed into the next chamber with newfound vigor, completely aware this time and not shrouded with overwhelming adrenaline. Every hit he suffered hurt more, but his focus allowed him to dodge more often and think properly, and he completed the chamber with only a few more scratches added to the ongoing list of wounds.

He was feeling good, confident. Anxious still, because he had never survived this far and had no idea what awaited him behind the next door, but what was the worst that could happen? Death? Ha.

And as he practically skipped into the next room, the toll of a bell stopped him in his tracks, draining all the warmth from his body as the already green chamber flashed an even greater, colder shade of green. Zagreus, although yielding under the sudden chill, still found himself wrapped in a blanket of familiarity, of something so beautiful he couldn’t find the words to describe it. That alone was enough to keep him from freezing to the bone.

“Thanatos…?” He whispered. He hoped. He dreaded. His heartbeat picked up, and his soul tried to rip itself from his body, drawn to the figure zapping into existence right in front of him. For a split second, wings encased Death’s godly form, dissolving as soon it appeared. A detail that was hardly noticeable, but Zagreus noticed it everytime and wished it lasted longer. He yearned to see those wings again.

“You’re easy to track down,” Than said, in a voice that was soft yet piercing, the pronunciation of every word perfect and clear. It caught Zagreus’ immediate attention, keeping his feet planted where they were. He smiled; he couldn’t help it.

“Aw, you were looking for me?”

And there it was: the slight downward twitch of his lips, the furrow of his brows, and of course, the subtle scrunch of his nose. Teasing Than was the best.

“No,” was Than’s indignant answer, and Zagreus of course didn’t believe him. “It was simply an observation of the debris you’ve left behind. I just happened to be in the area.”

“And you also just so happened to follow the trail, knowing it would lead to me?”

“No—! Ugh.” Flustered, lovingly so, Thanatos wielded his scythe. “Fight or die, Zagreus. Or, perhaps, do nothing, while I do all the work. Like how it's always been.”

Zagreus smirked. Well, he definitely wouldn’t mind sitting back and watching Death annihilate Elysium’s best warriors. He knew the god would make swift work of them. But to miss the opportunity to fight alongside the God of Death? Why, how could he decline such an offer?

Before the first shade could even materialize, Zag was on them, hacking and slashing like his body didn’t scream for him to follow Than’s advice. It was exhilarating, exciting. They worked as a team rather than competitors, Zagreus even pushing enemies into Thanatos’ dark circle of death. Than took notice, stopping to give Zagreus a confused look, before disintegrating three Brightswords at once.

Beautiful. Beautiful.

A few more Brightswords materialized, including a Greatshield and some Chariots, but they met their demise quickly before they could so much as breathe. Not that they needed to breathe; they were dead.

And now you’re deader, Zagreus mused, finishing off the last one while Than, ironically, floated and watched him do the work, perhaps giving him a pity kill. Zagreus didn’t keep track of their last competition and he wasn’t about to now; he’d let Thanatos worry about that. Though, he could estimate that he himself killed about five, while Thanatos...more than that, probably?

With the last warrior slayed, Elysium was quiet and peaceful once more, as Zagreus imagined it would be if he was sentenced to live his eternal life here. He took this opportunity to gather and absorb the dark energy a few enemies dropped, thinking about Nyx’s gift when he felt eyes watching him.

Goosebumps riddling his skin, he turned towards Thanatos, who continued staring a moment longer before offering his hand. Zagreus, confused, tilted his head and waited for an explanation. Upon receiving nothing except for Than’s unreadable expression, he took the invitation and shuffled closer.

“Your reward,” Thanatos mumbled, yet it was clear as day. Energy popped in his upturned palm, the remnants clinging to Zagreus’ skin and melting into the tissue, the bones. Zagreus watched a few scratches heal themselves. His body still ached, but his vitality grew stronger, like he could withstand more.

“Centaur heart,” Zagreus muttered, and he tilted his head back, traveling up Than’s floating form before stopping at a pair of two golden orbs. “Why?”

“It was a tie.”

“Oh.”

Zagreus was suspicious, but he didn’t speak on it. If Thanatos wanted him to stay home, like everyone else apparently, then he wouldn’t have given him something to keep his body going unless it was well-earned. Death was honorable like that.

“Ah,” Than cleared his throat, and standing this close Zagreus could see the beginnings of discoloration dusted across his cheeks. “My brother—Hypnos, that is—gave me a bottle of Nectar a little bit ago.”

Zagreus didn’t react to the random statement at first. He wondered why Thanatos was telling him, but also, how Hypnos could have gotten another bottle himself. The God of Sleep didn’t travel nearly as much as his older twin, or even Zagreus for that matter. Though, Zag supposed maybe he didn’t really know where Hypnos went when he wasn’t dozing off by the entrance to the River Styx. He always assumed the god was off sleeping somewhere more comfortably. Or maybe—

Wait. Zagreus frowned. He sensed something was amiss; something wasn’t right. The bottle, the one he gave Hypnos just before his most recent escape...he wouldn’t...couldn’t have…?

His eyes widened. No. Nonono—

“He said it was from you, Zagreus. That you asked he give it to me...as a gift.”

For the second time that day—or night, whatever—Zagreus found himself sputtering with disbelief. Irritation, embarrassment, anger, betrayal, amongst other feelings he refused to acknowledge—he couldn’t sort out which ones he felt the most.

“That—” he tried, but the words were locked in his throat, clogged together so he could hardly talk, hardly breathe. How dare Hypnos give away a gift Zagreus had given him. And how dare he thus give that same gift to Thanatos, lying in his name on top of it all!

“Zag?”

The nickname made Zagreus flinch and want to wilt away, perhaps turn into a butterfly and hide in Than’s chiton forever. At least until Than eventually ran into Hypnos, where Zagreus would then use the element of surprise to strangle the sleepy god. But to hear Than call him by his childhood nickname rather than cruelly addressing him as ‘Zagreus’ enveloped the Prince with so much nostalgia and belonging it ached. What was the point of rewarding Zagreus a centaur heart if he was only going to wound him like this moments after?!

“I...Than.” The exchange of nicknames felt natural, but Zagreus was ashamed. It was enough to zap him out of his momentary panic, and he briefly locked eyes with Death before taking in not only the concerned tilt of his brow, but also the specks of flustered gold alighting his face. Than was...flattered, to say the least. Zagreus wasn’t so oblivious he couldn’t figure out that much. But it wasn’t because of his doing; not really. He could go along with it, pretend that it was, but. That wasn’t right. Death should be honored. This was not honorable.

Upon the sigh Zagreus released from his emotionally-constricted lungs were everything he had managed to feel in less than a second after the reveal of Hypnos’ betrayal. Whatever the reason for it, Zagreus wouldn’t accept the benefits of it, if any. He wouldn’t accept the outcome if it wasn’t truthful.

“Thanatos,” he began, the name not as sweet on his tongue, “That gift...was for Hypnos, not you. I never asked him to hand it off to you.”

The look on Than’s face was hard to read at first—perhaps a mixture of confusion and horror—but Zagreus hated it. Desperately did he wish to replace it with the bashfulness from before. That feeling he had felt earlier, to bask Thanatos in gifts, was back full force.

“You mean to say…” Than’s voice trailed off before his expression hardened. “This is a prank, then.”

“No! Of course not. Not by me, at least.” When Than didn’t look convinced, Zagreus stepped closer, reaching for his dark Chiton but pulling back when he noticed Than’s shoulders stiffen. “I swear, Thanatos, on my father’s name. I gave him the bottle and that was it. Maybe...maybe there was a miscommunication? Or perhaps he overheard—”

He stopped himself there, looking past Thanatos at nothing in particular. Maybe Hypnos overheard his back and forth with Achilles? He was right around the corner, afterall. And if Nyx could hear Hypnos and Zagreus, then Hypnos would have no problem eavesdropping on the happenings of the West Hall. If that’s the case, maybe Hypnos believed he was doing a favor by giving the bottle to its original intent?

“Overheard what, Zagreus?”

With another sigh, Zagreus gave up. “Okay. The Nectar was for you.” Before Thanatos could process the words, Zagreus rushed the next sentences out, fearing the god would think it was all a joke again. “Originally! It was intended for you, at first, but you weren’t at the House. You—you’re rarely at the House, and it’s clear you’ve been avoiding me as of late, so. And the bottle, it was shaken up. I couldn’t just give something like that to you! I wasn’t sure you would even accept a gift from me anyway so I tried to give it to Achilles but he wouldn’t accept it because he said it wasn’t for him even though I was obviously giving it to him and we may have argued about it loud enough for Hypnos to hear but he didn’t say anything about it when—”

Zagreus, whose words were starting to blend together as he quickly rambled his explanation of things, abruptly stopped when something small and hard was thrusted against his chest. He was nearly pushed back from the force of it, and he scrambled to hold onto the object when Thanatos pulled his hand back. Confused, Zagreus stared down at his hands.

“Do you ever stop talking?”

Zagreus had to force himself to look away from what appeared to be a butterfly, mesmerized by the intricate designs he could briefly make out before giving Thanatos his attention once more. He wasn’t looking at him, rather, his head was turned to the side, arms crossed with his scythe cradled between the bulge of his biceps. Dust of gold once again sparkled the soft glow of his cheeks.

“You shouldn’t worry about giving me anything, Zagreus. I’ve no interest in the little souvenirs you find in your futile attempts to escape this place.” Slightly, he cocked his head, fixing his golden stare on the small artefact held gently in Zagreus’ grasp. “But if you insist...you’ll have no choice but to hold onto that.”

A flash of green, a schlink, and Zagreus was alone in Elysium.

Than’s swift exits always left a hole in his chest, but this time he didn’t bother dwelling on it, the weight of the butterfly in his hands keeping his heart full and healthy and...happy. His fingers smoothed over the coolness of it, its subtle ridges and edges a fine testament to the workmanship it must have taken to create something so beautiful. And the colors—shades of purples and grays with a green tint on the outer rims of the design, giving the butterfly a glowing effect—reminded Zagreus so much of Thanatos, and the beauty of Death.

The Prince’s tendency to ramble, although grating to the ears of most in the House of Hades, seems to have avoided what would have been a terrible rift between the likes of Life and Death, courtesy of a telltale lie; but the Prince’s desire to strangle the God of Sleep still stands as is.

Blood trickled to the tips of Zagreus’ ears. “What are you talking—? Ugh, just shut up!”

[nikadd]

i didnt get to experience the beginning of the empty's deal arc live, but im just so obsessed with the whole concept of it.

first of all, i know for a Fact that i would have instantly assumed it would have meant destiel. i've always been a diehard heller with probably too much blind optimism a person could ever have about this show, but that's just how my brain works, and i don't have to defend myself about this. that's just me.

second, the framing of it is 1) Romantic As FUCK - like, even without the whole concept the confession is very much a romantic confession, but the curse makes it even more so, and anyone who calls it a confession of platonic feelings has probably struggled in high school literature classes; 2) a Great parallel of Cas saving Jack to Dean saving Sam, which would have been a Great culmination of Cas being later saved by Dean (which they obviously dropped the biggest ball on!! FUCK i could have had all the Disney's Hercules gif comparisons i could ever handle) to parallel Cas saving Dean; and 3) the ticking bomb set-up HAD to have come into fruition, and i love plotlines that make you ask how something is going to happen, rather than whether it even would.

third, which is probably my favorite part of it all - and you may question the amount of faith i had in the writers to have planned this, idc, i'm not subscribing to the idea that anything good ever on this show was an accident - which is that the fact that the requirements for the deal to work deny a possibility of an earlier or less substantial trigger. to reiterate, the condition for the moment to be the PEAK of cas's happiness required the story to 1) strategically build to that point; 2) compare/contrast other happy moments to emphasize just how special this particular moment is; and 3) create a new understanding of everything prior. in my opinion, it has more or less succeeded on all those counts.

the build-up has definitely come from placing dean and cas's relationship at the forefront of this season from the divorce arc and on. i definitely think there could have been more of a development of that dynamic in terms of cas's grace failure and an elaboration on dean's relationship with jack.

the last part adds to my second point. in 15x15, cas gives a speech about finding a new source of faith that is not deicentric. he speaks about his trajectory as a person, about finding family, about jack. that moment is very much a happy moment for cas. it is not THEE moment of happiness required to summon the empty, both stemming from and proving the fact that the confession that does lead to the empty taking him was not, in fact, about finding family, purpose, and all those things. if the articulation of him being happy about finding where he belongs was what was necessary, cas would have been taken right out of that church.

my third and final point is what i mean by the fact that the confession was such a major revelation that it echoed back throughout the series' narrative to highlight every single moment of cas's expression of love for dean and the world at large. just the concept of something that had that much power to not alter but reveal something so many of us saw hiding just underneath the veil of subtext is both groundbreaking and inspiring.

[jaz-xedarix]

The Return of the Star

So here we are. Finally after sooo many years of hiatus, I am able to go back to the action by translating this amazing work from our beloved Mr. Yoshida. 

I want to thank to the proof readers that helped me checking this English version. As you know, English is not my mother tongue and plus it is not perfect at all, less in this late times that I haven’t talk at all with English speakers as before, as you see I manage to comunicate with you quite well but it is different when one need to comunicate someone else’s ideas XD So there might be some little mistakes in this text, feel free to tell me if there’s something wrong with it. 

As for some words, one of them that is still making some noise in my head is “Hansom”. Usually I use google translate to help me with the job and usually it gives me some words that I have never seen before and that’s why I depend on you guys to help me correct XD So mr.G.Translate said “hansom” is “a two-wheeled horse-drawn carriage accommodating two inside, with the driver seated behind.”. And you can find this word a couple of times in this text, and reading the novel I think this is the best word for it, if there’s another word for it, please tell me. 

Maybe this is the only word I had trouble with. Anyways I hope you enjoy this as I did translating this for you guys. 

Thanks so much to Buffalo Borgine and Lamy for helping me correcting the text.  ❤ Part II is in process, so wait for it soon ❤ So, with no more to say, here it is: 

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

And I have given to them

knowledge of your name, and will give it,

so that the love which you have for me

may be in them and I in them.

JOHN 17.26

                                                              I

 “Aaahh, I can't take it anymore!”

“Why are you whining again, father?” Esther Blanchett asked, in an annoyed tone to her companion, who was putting on a face like a man condemned to death.

 Surrounded by the steam from the train, halfway down the ladder, she turned her slightly tanned face towards her interlocutor.

 “Don't waste your time and come down immediately. If you stay there, you will disturb the other passengers.”

“Esther... couldn't it be possible for me to go straight back on this train?”

 The evening light that was filtering through the stained-glass ceiling of the international arrivals platform had a reddish hue. In the wintry air, hard as a witch's kiss, the station passengers and employees moved busily.

 The one who continued to complain stubbornly was the tall priest with the rebellious silver hair who accompanied Esther. If he had been quiet, it could be said that he was attractive, but he did not leave his miserable expression as he descended from the train with a suitcase in each hand.

 “What is this so urgent that the Cardinal wants? If it's a report, we could have done it in Rome. Coming just here... I have very bad omens. I know something horrible will happen to me again.”

“Father, isn't it a common thing for Her Eminence to scold you? I thought you were used to it.”

 Father Abel Nightroad nodded, still murmuring as Esther shook her long red hair theatrically. After a year of working together, she had already learned that there was no point in reasoning with this complainer. Lifting her suitcase with both hands, the nun started down the platform, expressionless.

 The international arrivals area was packed with people. The participants of the ceremony that was to be held three days later must have been arriving. All the travelers carried large suitcases, and the air was filled with incomprehensible conversation. In the midst of the confusion, the nun began with a steady pace...

“Ahhh...!”

Feeling the night air in her lungs, Esther heaved a little sigh. As if finally realizing where she was, she stopped dead and looked out of one of the station windows.

“Sure... I'm back...”

 The landscape that unfolded before her eyes was not that of Rome, where she has spent the year before. It was neither the one in Byzantium, where they had been until a few days ago, nor the one in Skopje, where they had stopped that day. The city surrounded by gentle hills and crossed by a meandering river was certainly like Byzantium or Rome. However, the twisted capitals and ceramic tiles gave the panorama a personality of its own, it was the landscape that had surrounded Esther for as long as she could remember.

  The city of Istvan, protectorate of the Vatican.

It was the easternmost of the cities controlled by mankind… and the place where Esther had grown up.

“Nothing has changed... nothing...”

 Facing the city that she saw again a year later, Esther heaved another sigh.

She had changed a lot, but her city remained the same. The running of the Danube, the cracks in the cobblestones... The sweet evening light embraced the same landscape that Esther had left back a year before.

 However, even if you thought your city was still the same, could you feel at ease? There she had sad and painful experiences, the memory of which made her suffer. Maybe that was inevitable when one returned to one’s homeland...

“Aaaaah, what did they get me this time?”

 The young woman was now absorbed in her warm memories but she came to herself as a rumbling voice rose like coming from the depths of Hell. Annoyed, she turned, and was met by a long figure who was sighing wistfully. The spectacled priest stroked his hair like a bad actor of tragedy who wanted to convey the idea of ​​bearing all the pain in the world.

 “Have they heard that I've set up a garden at the seminary? Or have they discovered those peaks that I added to the invoices...? Aaaah, Lord, protect your servant! Can't get them to turn a blind eye?”

“I have the feeling that before you became religious you were already a failure as a human being...”

 Lord! That she could not even have a moment of peace being with that companion! Esther sighed deeply, feeling sorry for herself. Come to think of it, it was precisely in that place where she had seen the father for the first time, a year ago. That meeting had been the beginning of the person she had become. Under normal circumstances, it would be a very important memory. Why was she unable to get excited?

 “But the truth is that you have some reason, father…” Esther continued speaking, being careful not to meet her eyes with her companion’s. “Why did Her Eminence make us come to Istvan? Even if they do the ceremony for the fallen, we don't have to attend ourselves… Do she want to hear the report about the Empire as soon as possible?”

“If that's just it, we'll be in luck... To get back to Rome from Skopje, going through here doesn't mean much of a change in route in terms of distance either. But the Cardinal does not like to change plans. That she had given a counter order is extremely rare... Aaaah, they must have caught me on something!”

 At the surprised look of the nun, the priest squatted and clutched his head.

 Two days before, once their mission was completed in Byzantium, they had reached Skopje, capital of the Marquisate of Macedonia. According to the original instructions, from there they were to take the road that go straight to west, to Rome. However, he had received an encrypted message ordering them to change their plans: «Instead of going back to Rome, go to Istvan to participate in the ceremony for the fallen. Report your mission when we meet».

 The ceremony to which the message referred was in honor of the fallen in the battle of Istvan the previous year. It was promoted by the Archbishop of the city, the Vatican's Public Relations Minister, Antonio Borgia, and Pope Alessandro himself were going to be present. As Secretary of State, Cardinal Caterina Sforza was also going to participate, and that is why she was in the city at the time. In that regard, meeting in Istvan to present the mission report made sense.

 What Esther did not understand was something else...

 «Participate in the ceremony for the fallen.» Why had she explicitly summoned them to participate in the ceremony? Those who organized it were the Archbishopric and the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations. Esther, who worked for the Secretary of State, had nothing to do with them. Could it be that there was a new mission? Telling the truth, it looks a little strange

“Well, the easiest thing will be to ask the Duchess of Milan directly… Hurry, father.”

  The agglomeration was considerable. If they didn't hurry out of the station and take a hansom, they would have to walk to the hotel the Secretary of State had reserved for them. To try to avoid it, Esther forcibly lifted her partner. Taking the tickets from the two of them, she headed purposefully toward the checkpoint.

“Staying here raving doesn't help much either. We have to meet with the Cardinal at once and make your report.”

 For security reasons, the international arrivals platform was separated from the outside by revolving doors. Esther showed the officer her passport, which identified her as an employee of the Holy See, and quickly went through the doors to go outside. While the priest went through the same process, she turned to look for a hansom.

 “Sister Esther!!!”

 A brutal, deafening scream rose around her.

 At the same time, her eyes were filled with white lights. She didn't even have time to realize that it was the flashes of a multitude of daguerreotypes. The nun turned her face away as a wave of voices washed over her.

 “Sister Esther! Finally, you are here! A few statements, please!”

 The chorus of voices followed by a crowd of men and women armed with notepads and fountain pens. Dazed by the flashes, Esther couldn't make out their facial expressions, but it didn't seem like those violent voices were directed at her by mistake or that it was all an elaborated joke. Among the mass crowded around the nun and the priest, the flashes continued to shine.

 “Eh, eh?”

But what was happening?

 Esther was stunned, surrounded by the sparkles.

 All those people seemed to be reporters and journalists. Those who carried that heavy tape recorder, were they from the radio? They were of all ages and aspects, but they all wore press passes issued by the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations on their chests. But why would the media be so interested in her?

 Stunned by events, Esther could do nothing but stand there. It was then that a laughter rang out behind them.

 “Heh, heh, heh! Finally, my time has come! At last, the world recognizes my charisma!”

 Abel, who had been just as surprised as she, began to show off with a boastful air, turning so quickly it looked like he was about to break a bone, he offered the cameras the profile he thought suited him best.

 “Hello everyooone! As I see that you are so interested, I am going to tell you some secrets about myself. My full name is Abel Nightroad. I am an itinerant priest of the Vatican. I am Virgo and my lucky number is 13. Regarding my career, I am precisely considering writing some memoirs that… Eh !?”

 With a cry like a toad, the priest was swallowed up by the mass of journalists who huddled mercilessly. Ignoring his painful moans, the reporters began bombarding Esther with questions, who remained motionless in the center of the crowd.

 “Sister Esther, what impressions do you have when you return to your homeland?”

“It's been a year since you finished with Gyula, how do you feel now?”

 Screaming echoed through the clicking sound of the flashes. Unconsciously, Esther recoiled from the throng of journalists and cameras.

 “What... what do you want?”

 When her brain began to function normally again, she realized that the goal of all this was her. But why? What did all those journalists expect of her!?  She was just a simple nun!

 Esther's questions were immediately answered when a middle-aged journalist, dressed in a dirty coat, showed her a piece of paper.

 “Sister Esther, have you had a chance to see the script for this new opera? Do you have any comments about it?”

“Eh... huh...!? I do not have any idea of what is happening... An opera...? What opera!?”

Looking at the paper, Esther stood with her mouth open with the surprise.

 It was a flier printed in high quality paper. One couldn't say that the colorful design or the propaganda phrases were the best taste, but whatever. More than that, what stunned Esther was the central illustration.

 Against the background of a striking cross, a beautiful nun struck down a man with a sword blow, dressed in aristocratic clothes, the fallen one twisted his monstrous face and showed two long fangs between his lips. And the legend of the drawing said:

 «The Star of Sorrow. Next release. Saint Esther and the devil Gyula: An apocalyptic fight!!! ». But what does this mean?!

 “It is a commemorative work for the liberation of Istvan, Sister Esther. It represents your fight against the vampire... Didn't you know anything about it?”

 The journalists looked at her, puzzled, but Esther didn't realize it. She was not for those things. Squeezing the paper in her hands, she tried to put the chaos of her thoughts in order.

“Saint Esther?”

 But where did that come from?!

 “Well, it's a very important work...” continued the journalist, with a certain pride in his voice, as if he were the scriptwriter himself. “Not only the casting, but also the production has had the support of the Ministry of Vatican Public Relations. The script was written by the Archbishop of Istvan himself and a budget of one million dinars has been invested. Tonight is the premiere... Ah! Is it for that why you've come today?”

“Eh? Well, no…”

 At the question, Esther only had the strength to shake her head.

 What was happening before her eyes seemed so unreal that it would be said that she was dreaming it. She wanted to return to her hometown to walk quietly through the streets again, visit the bishop's tomb, go to greet the families of her fellow partisans one by one... As she remembered her plans, a distant noise made her come to her senses.

 “Sister Esther Blanchett,” a monotonous voice sounded over the sound of a horn.

Looking for that familiar voice, she saw that, beyond the mass of journalists, there was a car parked. The face staring at her from the driver's seat was one she knew all too well.

“Father Iqus!?”

“The Duchess of Milan has ordered me to come and find you. Get in the vehicle, please” explained Tres Iqus, Ax Gunslinger's agent, with his hands on the wheel. “Ignore the media and present yourself immediately. Those have been the words of her eminence. Get up at once. The Duchess awaits you at the Opera House.”

“Agree!”

 What was all the fuss about? And what was the Duchess doing at the Opera House?

She had many questions in mind, but she nodded and followed the instructions she had been given. Her superior's orders were clear and Caterina herself would surely know how to explain something more about that bad taste joke.

 “Father Nightroad, get up, we're going!”

“I ... it's my moment... I'm so charismatic...”

 Dragging Abel, as if he were another suitcase since he was still semi-conscious, Esther ran with all her might amidst the rain of flashes and questions from journalists. Without turning to the chasing mass, Esther yelled as she approached the car:

 “Father Iqus, open the opposite door!”

 They had not seen each other for three months, but now was not the time for long greetings.

 “Who they're chasing is me… I'll meet you later, but decoy me now, please.”

“Understood. Request fulfilled.”

The short priest did not hesitate for a moment. Probably, thinking about the possible courses of action, his circuits had reached the same conclusion as Esther. Quickly opening the other door, he added:

“Current time: eighteen-zero-zero. The Duchess of Milan is in the Opera House. Head there as soon as you can. I will mislead the media.”

 Nodding firmly at the cold but confident voice, Esther let her luggage into the back seat and ran out the other side of the vehicle. Just when she had finished hiding behind some construction materials there, she adjusted the bonnet around her head, the car started.

 “Wait, Sister Esther! Some statements!”

The plan worked and the journalists came out in droves after the vehicle that had left behind only the smell of the tires burned. Those who had been so sufficiently farsighted were set up in their own cars, and the other took hansoms. Between the whirlwind of yells and engines, no one noticed the place where the nun had hidden.

“They've already left...”

After checking that everyone had moved away, Esther got up and dusted herself off.

“What did it all mean?” Looking at the flier again, the young woman bit her lip.

«Commemoration of the first anniversary of the liberation of Istvan».

«Saint Esther».

«Devil Gyula.»

 Esther crumpled the paper into a ball and put it in her pocket. Those sensational expressions had left a very unpleasant impression on her chest.

 She had to speak to the Cardinal as soon as possible. She had to talk to her and hear from her own lips the truth about all this charade...

 “Wait, Sister Esther, I still have a question for you”, a hoarse voice stopped her just as she was about to walk.  

 Turning around, she found a man in a soot-stained coat. It was the same journalist who had given her the flier earlier, so he was the only one who had noticed her ploy.

 “I expected no less from the young woman who defeated the Marquis of Hungary. You are very clever. And thanks to that I have my exclusive… Ah, but I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Clement from the Picadilly Gazette in Albion.”

 The man handed her a yellowish business card. Although he was smiling politely, he did not miss the opportunity to scan the young nun with his eyes.

 “I've told you before that I don't know what you're talking about,” Esther replied, somewhat frightened, instinctively turning her face away from that penetrating gaze. “If you want to know more about the ceremony, I recommend that you go directly to the cathedral, Mr. Clement. I don't know anything...”

“No, no, what interests me is your personal circumstances, sister.”

 So the one who smiled slightly mockingly at her on the deserted street was one of those famous paparazzi from the gossip press.

 “I've been investigating your family... I know you were abandoned as a child and that the bishop raised you... Vitez, was her name? Therefore, do you not know who your real parents are?”

“I... I know something about my father...”

What right this man have to intrude like this in her private life? Lifting her face decisively, she snapped:

 “But I only know he was from Albion. Are we finished with the questions, Mr. Clement? I'm in a hurry. We will talk another time.”

“Well, well, you don't have to be like that either.”

 However, the journalist did not seem to be affected by her serious tone. Still smiling, he took a few yellowed sheets from his pocket. They were official documents of the city council, as indicated by the seals with the emblem of the city.

“What do you think this is? It's a copy of your birth certificate, which was filed at the town hall. According to these documents your father was Edward Blanchett, knight bachelor of Albion. The lowest rank of the nobility...”

“But how did you…?!”

 Seeing the documents the journalist had, Esther flushed with anger and her breathing began quickening. She stood up to face him and said:

"Give me that! You have no right to snoop there!”

“If you tell me what I want, I will give it to you soon. It costs me a lot of money to get this copy. I cannot give it to you just like that. So... back to what we were talking about...”

 Clement laughed, satisfied, as if enjoying the fact that he was once again in charge of the conversation. Waving the paper in the air, like a lure, the journalist continued:

“Well, your father was Edward Blanchett, but do you know what kind of person he was?”

“Didn't I tell you that I don't know anything else about him!?”

“Oh yeah? Well, me neither. And I am not the only one. In fact, absolutely no one knows anything about him. Because the truth is that he never existed…”

“Eh?”

 Esther had reached out to grasp the document, but stopped short. She furrowed her eyebrows and stared at the reporter. What did he mean by “never existed”?

 As if enjoying his interlocutor's confusion, Clement continued to speak slowly.

“According to our investigations, there is no trace in Albion of an aristocrat named Edward Blanchett. We have examined the noble records, the files of appointments, even the secret documents of the Institute of Heraldry, but there is no trace of anyone named that.”

“Uh... huh... But that...”

 Hesitantly, Esther tried to find a way to answer him.

The truth was, she had consciously avoided investigating her father. Because of her work, she wouldn't have had a difficult time if she wanted to know more about him, but she was afraid of what she might find.

 However, Clement's words were too impressive to ignore. Had there never been a nobleman named Edward Blanchett?

 “Of course, identity theft or falsification of one's own past are not so rare things either. He would not be the first to arrive in the provinces and say that he is an aristocrat from a distant country... But there is one thing that intrigues me: that he used the name Edward Blanchett eighteen years ago...

“??”

It was clear that it was a trap. Even she is aware that the verbiage of her interlocutor was captivating her, Esther tried not to escape. In fact, she even encouraged him to keep talking with a fearful question:

“What puzzles you, Mr. Clement?”

“Well, now is when you and I can do business, sister.”

 Seeing that his prey had swallowed the hook, the journalist shook the documents again and continued to speak slowly, showing nicotine-stained teeth.

 “Why don't you join me for a moment? It would be better to go to a quiet place, where we can talk without being disturbed by anyone.”

“B... but now I don't have time...”

“Are you not interested in the deal?”

 Clement's gaze narrowed like a reptile locating its prey. With a theatrical sigh, he put the document back in his pocket.

 “Then there is nothing to do. I will publish the results of my research in my next article. «The secret of the origin of the Saint»... Ah, I'll send you a copy when it comes out. Do I send it here, or better to your office in Rome?”

 Esther tensed her face and, instinctively taking her arms to her chest, moaned:

“Are you trying to threaten me!?”

“Ah, I see you have understood perfectly, sister,” replied the journalist, as if enjoying the young woman's reaction. And he added in a threatening tone: “You come with me now and you grant me the exclusive, or your father's secret...?”

“Threatening others using family secrets is not a very respectable hobby, sir.”

The voice that echoed in the twilight was contrasted with Clement's in its serenity. Turning quickly, the veteran journalist encountered a man who was slowly shaking his head.

“And more in the case of an innocent sister like this… Is it that those of your profession don't know the meaning of the word moderation?

“And who are you?”

 Looking up, Esther saw the dark shape of a man.

He looked to be in his early thirties. His shapely face and the black Inverness coat that wrapped him were impeccable. Under his dark hair, intelligent black eyes shone through silver glasses.

 “I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself. My name is Isaac Butler. I am a steward of one of the aristocratic houses of Londinium.”

 The young gentleman lifted his top hat with his cane as he bowed gracefully.

 “I did not mean to meddle in your affairs, but I was waiting for someone and by chance I overheard your conversation. Sir… Clement, right? The truth is that I cannot praise your professional ethics too much. Thus violating people's privacy and using it as a tool to threaten others… You should be ashamed.”

 “What does it matter to you!?” The journalist snapped, looking at him with hyena eyes, in a tone that sounded more like a bully than anything else. “If you go where they don't call you, you can get scalded… Besides, I'm not threatening anyone. Here we are just talking without any coercion. I have not done anything bad.”

“Taking unauthorized copies of someone else's birth certificates is a crime,” Butler muttered, raising his hand. Seeing what was in it, Clement was dumbfounded.

“B... but when did you...?”

 The butler showed him a paper stamped with the city hall letterhead.

 Clement reached into his pocket, but… Esther's birth certificate was missing!

“Y… you're a thief! Give me those documents back immediately!”

 The paparazzi paled for a moment and then turned red. Showing the teeth in a horrible grin, he reached for the man to try to forcibly get back the paper... but did not even touch it. There was a thud, and the journalist rolled on the ground.

“Good work, Guderian” whispered Butler to the man who had appeared like a wall between him and the reporter.

He was a somber man with gray hair. He was not too tall, but his body was athletic, and his pupils had a flash of predator gleaming. He made a move to approach the paparazzi, but Butler stopped him with a gesture and politely addressed the fallen man:

 “Good, Mr. Clement. My companion, Mr. Guderian, is, unlike you, a gentleman, but he is also very ruthless. I do not recommend that you face him hand to hand...”

 The butler lit a pipe and began to smoke while he continued speaking indolently.

 “Besides, don't you have anything more important to investigate than disturbing the young lady? For example ... Oh yes! They say that this year the damage caused by the wolves has been extraordinary, after feeding on the corpses of the war last year, it seems that the wolves have begun to attack the cattle and the inhabitants of the place. Isn't that interesting news?”

“...”

Clement sat up, eyes full of hatred, but careful to take enough distance.

“Okay, I'll go... But sir... Butler was it? I never forget a face. We will meet again. You'll see what it means to antagonize with the media...”

“I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again. Until next time, Mr. Clement.”

 As if he had instantly forgotten the reporter who had cursed him, the man quickly turned to Esther. Slightly bending his waist with a smile, he respectfully offered the document which the journalist had used as a bait.

“What a bad night you’ve had, sister!”

“T... thank you very much, sir...”

    Did they know each other before?

 With a strange feeling of having seen the man somewhere, Esther lowered her head as she thanked him and took the document he offered her.

“Lucky you have appeared. I will never forget what you have done for me”.

“It was nothing. Helping a lady in distress is the duty of any gentleman. Oh, and please don't think now that in Albion we are all like that journalist. Most of us are true gentlemen.”

“Are you from Albion?”

 At the hearing the name of the country of his father, the expression of Esther softened for a moment, but at once recovered the tension before. The man had claimed to be an aristocrat's butler, but what was someone like him doing there? Wouldn't that be another trick to gain her trust?

Suspicion was probably written on her face, because Butler gave a sheepish smile and proceeded to introduce himself in detail.

 “You are probably wondering what a poor butler like me is doing here. The truth is that I am looking for someone. He is a friend of my lord, who disappeared a long time ago… Someone who had some problems… He caused a scandal in his youth and had to flee the country. My lord has found out that he arrived in this region and has sent me to search for clues as to his whereabouts.”

“It seems like very hard work...”

Butler's words made sense and he had explained without hesitation. He was probably telling the truth. Esther decided to believe that the man was who he claimed to be.

Butler's partner jerked his pocket watch to him, and the butler snapped his fingers. After putting out the pipe, he respectfully took Esther by the hand.

“What a disappointment! Seems that it is late! Sister, if you do not need us at all, we will withdraw, with your permission.”

“Oh, sure! I'm in a bit of a hurry too... Thank you very much for your help; really, Mr. Butler.”

“Oh, please, I don't deserve that much respect.”

Bringing the nun's hand slightly to his lips, the man smiled and whispered in Albion's language:

“It was nice meeting you. I hope to see you again soon…”

As the young woman flushed, the butler bowed politely and turned. The man named Guderian followed half a second later.

Esther was lost in her thoughts, watching the two figures move away down the dark street.

 When she came back to reality, she realized that the streetlights had come on.

“Ah, I have to hurry!”

 She had no time to waste. Clicking her tongue, the young woman ran to the opposite side of the street.

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

So this is it, Stay tunned for next part, we’re having a nice coloring next time. Love you guys! ❤

[theawkwardterrier]

Blossoms Every Day

Summary: When you work at a flower shop requests for elaborate bouquets are just part of the job. Requests for bouquets this specific, on the other hand...

The other of my rejected Steggy Secret Santa stories. I was looking for AU tropes to play around with, thought of flower shop...and immediately began to write it in the weirdest way possible.

Read on AO3

After three years of being the only employee of Asters to Zinnias other than Michaela, the owner, you are fairly familiar with the peaks and valleys of the business. Valentine’s Day is big, of course (and the day or two afterward are even bigger for more elaborate apology arrangements) but considering the shop’s proximity to the university campus, there’s also an uptick in sales around graduation time and about a month after the fall semester starts each year, when the kids who’d met and fallen for each other at orientation have their first tiny anniversary.

Summer and winter breaks, though, are generally...well, you don’t want to call them dry spells because it would give Michaela an onset of migraine face, but they’re certainly less busy. That’s why on a drizzly Wednesday morning at the beginning of January, you feel certain enough about having the shop to yourself that, while you dust the vases behind the counter, you have your earbuds in playing an episode of the soothingly-voiced serial murder podcast you love.

The volume is turned up pretty loud, so you don’t hear the bell over the door (don’t tell Michaela) or the approaching customer’s footsteps, or your own shocked squeak when you turn to water the spider plant on the counter and find someone standing there.

“Sorry,” you gasp, pausing mid-murder description and hastily shoving your earbuds into your pocket. “How can I help you?”

There’s something of a stunned look on the man’s face, and he stares for a moment as if he doesn’t quite know how to answer the question and would have preferred you stay oblivious to him for another few moments while he gathered his thoughts.

Finally he says, “I—I think I need a recommendation. Can you think of what flowers would say ‘welcome to campus’ to a really smart visiting professor in the history department who specializes in European women's and gender history in the mid-nineteenth to mid-twentieth centuries?” And then, as if he wants to make sure you have every bit of information which might be helpful, he adds, “Her last book was an amazing collection of oral histories about women in the UK during World War II.”

You’ve picked out plenty of arrangements for people who didn’t know daffodil from a delphinium, for students who’ve walked in asking simply for “something pretty,” and you consider yourself pretty quick on your feet at this point. After a moment of staring, you offer weakly, “A nice plant always brightens up a new office. Maybe bamboo, for good luck?”

He walks out with his potted bamboo twenty minutes later. You spent two minutes wrapping the pot. He spent eighteen writing and rewriting cards. Hopefully the professor really likes bamboo.

Two days later, a woman walks in, comes right over to where you’re finishing up a new baby bouquet to send over to the hospital, and asks for “something to show gratitude for making me feel welcome. An arrangement expressing appreciation for brightening up my office.”

“Oh,” she adds, “and his eyes are a lovely shade of blue, if you have something that might suit.”

Holding back a groan, you start to offer some options. Apparently she liked the bamboo well enough.

You don’t see either of them for three weeks, long enough for you to have told the story to Michaela then to a couple of friends over beers, long enough that the pair of them are fading into a slightly amusing anecdote.

The man shows up just after you’ve come back from lunch break. You’re still wiping a few tricky crumbs off your sweater as he tells you that he’s looking for something that says “sorry about that horrible meeting, and here’s hoping for less exposure to jerks in the future - although since too many of them are tenured, I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Sunflowers are cheerful?” you suggest. “Maybe mixed with some tulips or snapdragons, plus white poppies - they symbolize consolation - and some greenery?”

He’s pretty young, probably too young for tenure or a significant salary, and you can see that his dark, tidy dress pants are getting a bit soft around the hems, but he doesn’t back down when you quote the price.

That evening, when it’s dark and the wind is blowing chill outside and you sit at the counter with your face in your hand dreaming of getting out of here and going home to hot soup and a blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cloak, there’s a call on the store’s phone. You hadn’t talked to the woman long enough in person for her voice to be familiar, but you have no doubt as to the identity of the person requesting a “thank you for speaking up to our terrible colleagues” bouquet.

The thing is that they never seem to show up or call when Michaela or any of the regular customers are around, or when any of the neighboring shopkeepers are popping in for a break and to share some gossip. You’re the only one who ever sees or speaks with them. Every month that the receipts tally with the inventory, you have a flash of relief at this small proof that they actually exist.

But this means that it’s up to you to suggest red tulips to represent “those journal reviewers were idiots to turn your paper down” and yellow poppies for “congratulations on the high average on your students’ last exam.” You’re the one charged with making arrangements in honor of “I had a great time at trivia last night,” and “best wishes on your sports team making the championship, even though I’m sorry you can’t be at the game,” and “you looked like you were a bit down yesterday,” and “that book you recommended was so great that I’ve already started on the sequel,” and “sorry I was short with you in the hall this morning, my neighbors threw a raging party last night even though it was 2:30 on a Wednesday.” In April, you help choose the three most perfect crimson roses in the shop to add to a birthday bouquet of calla lilies and orchids, and you don’t say anything about how the shade reminds you of a certain hue of lipstick or about what everyone knows red roses mean.

You’ve kept up with your schoolwork through it all, acquitted yourself nicely. Graduation day is approaching quickly now. But somehow, between helping Michaela find your replacement among the newer students and saying a slow goodbye to all your campus haunts, you can’t help but wonder how things will end for your two most politely irritating regular customers. Visiting professors aren’t meant to stay, after all.

The arrangement you put together in early May, tiger lilies and sweet peas and irises, is the largest yet. You’ve been told that it’s meant to say “I’m sorry that you can’t stay, but I know that there’s something amazing waiting for you,” although the sadness is obvious in his eyes as you hand it over. Nevertheless, he thanks you sincerely for all your help.

“I’m sure you’re glad not to have to see me anymore,” he jokes. You shake your head. Once, maybe, you would have secretly agreed, but in a certain way you’ve come to look forward to the challenge that only these two seem to give you. More than that, you’ve enjoyed seeing two people so eager to demonstrate their affection for each other. They seem to have said more with flowers over these last months than most people say with words in a lifetime; sometimes you wonder if they even have to speak when they encounter each other.

With a last smile, he turns to go, just as the bell above the door jingles, and she steps through.

“Peggy,” comes the surprised exhalation. You can’t see his face, although you can imagine the widened eyes, the parting of his mouth. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” The enormous bouquet in its vase lowers just a bit, so they can look each other in the face over your handiwork.

“Steve. Hello,” she says, surprised too but covering it better. “I suppose it was only a matter of time before our schedules overlapped here.”

You’ve seen people grin and shriek and tear up when presented with flowers before, but there’s something entirely new about the particular quiet tenderness with which they are regarding each other. It sort of makes you want to just stand quietly and perhaps hold the hand of someone you love.

“Your order is ready,” you say instead, hefting her vase forward onto the counter, filled with primroses, violets, and camellias. And before you can think better of it, before you can imagine what Michaela would say, you add, “One ‘Thank you for everything. If you ask me, I’ll find a way to stay’ bouquet, as requested.”

For a minute, nothing moves, and in the drowning silence you wonder if your last memory of this job is going to be filled with shouting and humiliation and demands to speak to your manager. But instead their eyes seem to shift into deeper focus on each other, as if you aren’t even there.

“Do you really—” he swallows, voice somehow even softer as he continues. “You don’t usually say things you don’t mean.”

“No,” she responds. “And I’m not now. They offered to have me stay on, if I want to.”

“But Cambridge—You can’t just tell Cambridge to go screw themselves.” The vase in his hands seems to be preventing him from gesturing the way he wants to, but he holds himself very still and her eyes don’t leave his.

She laughs a bit. “Of course not, but I can tell them that there are greater opportunities available to me here.” She places a hand on his arm. “And Steve? To be clear, I don’t simply mean academic ones.”

And suddenly the spotlight turns back onto you as he turns abruptly and says, “Can you send these over to the hospital instead? I don’t know that I need them anymore.” As you give a quick nod, somewhat shocked by the rapid turn of events, he strides over to set the vase gently back onto the counter beside hers.

“You can deliver mine there as well,” she tells you. “I think this is the sort of conversation you have in words rather than plants.” She steps forward and extends her hand. He glances at it, at her face, then intertwines his fingers with hers. The bell jingles behind them as they step out the door together.

A year later, you’re waiting for your lunch order at the specialty salad place near your new job when your phone vibrates with a text. You’d given your number to your replacement just in case you were needed to shed light on the location of the fancy twine or what to get Michaela at Starbucks when she was groaning over the January billing, after the holiday sales had dropped off and before the Valentine’s orders had started coming in. This is the first time it’s been used.

What in the world do I put in a proposal bouquet that’s meant to symbolize “You are the best, most brilliant woman in the world, someone who knows herself better than anyone I’ve ever met. I can’t fully describe when you are to me and I’d wait for you forever, but if you’re ready, I would love to be married to you”???????

You give a shout of a laugh, right there in the crowd, not caring about the glances thrown your way or the call of your name at the pickup area. You’re too busy typing back: Okay, you’re going to want to have orange blossoms in there…